Dead on his feet. Erm, actually, try decomposed on his feet. That definitely fits better.

A very white Théoden was slumped in a richly carved throne, several pelts and quilts wrapped around his almost frail body. He was unsteady and his head lolled onto one of his shoulders. His eyes were clouded with Saruman's spell: he was no longer his own man. His hair was a limp and greasy yellowed white, and his skin was wrinkled and creased in a bazillion places.

Even Gríma looked better than Rohan's king. And that is an insult of the deepest kind. Gríma Wormtongue was as pale and pasty as they come. His eyes were shifty under their heavy lids and his black hair looked like someone had dipped it into a McDonald's fryer. To put it in a nutshell, he was all kinds of nasty.

I was so busy observing Ick and Ack that I didn't realize the doors were shutting behind us until the noise made me jump. I spied Gríma's followers from across the room, glaring darkly at us— no surprise there. I watched as their leader whispered his lies into the King's ear.

"Gandalf the Grey... herald of woe... not welcome here..."

Will he just shut up?

"The courtesy of your halls has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King.', Gandalf stated in his booming voice as we walked toward the throne.

"And why...', came the rasping voice as Théoden made an effort to lift his head. "Should I welcome you... Gandalf Stormcrow?"

Gríma studied his king with a hungry look in his eye before rising to his feet from his crouched position.

"A just question, my liege.', he hissed. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him..." The treacherous man approached our small group. "Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent!', Gandalf ordered. "Keep your forked tongue behind your yellowed teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." He held up his staff threatening.

"His staff!', Gríma wailed as his eyes lit with recognition. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

Gríma's little group of equally disgusting men swarmed to the center of the room. The men, elf, and dwarf in our group quickly began to knock them out one by one as they dared to come the slightest bit close to Gandalf. And let me just say, they all have one heck of a punch.

As one of Gríma's followers came closer to where I was standing he eyed me an evil smirk.

"Heck no!', I yelped as he came nearer. I quickly ducked his groping fingers and led him on a chase to where Aragorn was standing. The ranger didn't even spare me a glance as he threw a left hook and uppercut into the man's jaw, knocking him out cold.

"Well he's out for the count.', I muttered as I glare darkly at the fallen man.

"Rielá—"

I caught Legolas' warning glance too late as a grimy hand wrapped around my stomach. The being's other hand held a cold blade to my throat.

Whoop dee do. I'm so dead. If I do get out of this one, I'm going to make them call me Riley in an emergency. Rielásse is a mouthful when it comes to saving lives.

"Desist or the lady dies."

Gah! I thought Gimli pinned you down with his clunky boots or something!

Yup. You guessed it. What a typical thing for me to do, right? I automatically assumed the dwarf had somehow pinned down Gríma, therefore leaving myself vulnerable. Which is exactly why Mr. Slimebag had sought me out— I was a woman. And in Middle Earth women were thought to be weak.

Ever the heroic ones, the males in my group obeyed the worm (or 'snake' as Eówyn would have indelicately put it).

Ugh. You guys just had to be chivalrous didn't you?

"Listen here, Pale n' Pasty. I'm going to give you to the count of three. And when I get to three, my tolerance of traitors goes up in flames."

Gríma laughed grimly (A/N: Good tongue twister!).

"Women are strengthless. They can do nothing to protect themselves."

"One...Two...', I counted through gritted teeth. "Three. Time's up, Elmer's Glue!"

I quickly reached up and grabbed the hand that held the knife. Pinching hard at a pressure point to render Gríma's hand momentarily useless, I wrenched his hand hard enough to dislocate his wrist bone and cause him to drop the blade. He cried out and strongly gripped my stomach with his other hand. I twisted in his grasp and kneed him in the stomach. I think that's what I hit anyway.

Gríma shouted in pain as I shot away from him. His good hand reached for me one last time and took hold of my pendant. Before I could yank it out of his hold he screamed and writhed as he jerked away from me, a red burn appearing on his hand.

What on earth?I thought as Gimli quickly stomped over and pinned Gríma to the floor.

"I would stay put if I were you!', the dwarf spat.

"...I release you from the spell." I barely caught Gandalf's statement as I continued to stare at Gríma's hand.

I shuddered as bone chilling laughter began to spill from Théoden's lips. Gandalf opened his closed eyes and gripped his staff so hard that his knuckles turned white. Aragorn's head was tilted in confusion and Boromir's expression was puzzled.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey."

I immediately knew it was Saruman speaking and not the king. As Saruman continued to rain out insults through Théoden's vocal chords Gandalf cast off his grey cloak and stood with his arms outstretched.

The king's eyes widened and he pushed further back into his chair as he hoarsely gasped.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." Gandalf held up his staff and the struggle began. Théoden grunted as the two wizard's fought for control of his mind— one to free him, and the other to keep him in darkness. The king's hands clawed at the throne's armrest, his nails delving grooves into the ancient wood.

The white clad figure I had earlier seen on the steps of Meduseld walked quickly into the room. Eówyn's expression tightened and she began to run towards her uncle before Aragorn shot out his hand and snatched her arm, tugging her back to stand at his side. He kept a firm grasp on her elbow as she helplessly watched her uncle squirm in his seat.

"If I go,' Saruman growled. "Théoden dies."

"You did not kill me, and you will certainly not kill him." Gandalf slammed Théoden's body into the wood.

"Rohan is mine!', Saruman shouted.

"Be gone!', Gandalf commanded.

The king lunged from his seat, only to be thrown back one last time. Saruman's dark spell was lifted and and the room grew lighter. As the darkness dissipated so did Théoden's deathlike appearance. Eówyn leapt forth and caught her uncle as he went limp and fell forward. His hair darkened to a healthy dirty blonde and his eyes deepened to a dark blue.

"I know your face...', Théoden murmured as he stared at his niece. "Eówyn, sister-daughter."

Tears filled her eyes and she stifled a happy sob as she caressed her loved one's face.

"I will take care of him, my lady. Leave him in my care for a few moments.', Gandalf told her kindly.

"Nay, I will stay by his side.', she said decisively.

"Go, sister-daughter. All shall be well."

She searched her uncle's face before nodding and fleeing the room.

"Breathe the free air again, my friend.', Gandalf beamed at Théoden.

"Dark have been my dreams of late...', he whispered as he studied his hands, turning them over to look at his stiff palms. He slowly stood and the people who filled his halls bowed before him.

"I believe your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword.', the wizard suggested.

Háma quickly brought the desired object and bowed before his king as he offered it. Théoden slowly drew his sword and ran his fingers lightly up and down the sparkling blade. His gaze hardened as it turned to Gríma, who began to shake at the withering glare.

Two guards quickly begun to drag the greasy haired traitor out of the Golden Hall, and we followed.

"Remind me never to anger you, lassie.', Gimli solemnly requested as he huffed in-between Legolas and I.

"Oh?"

"Douh!', he harrumphed. "I believe you succeeded in de—"

"Gimli! You are forgetting that she is a lady.', Aragorn warned.

"If she can kick like she did with no qualms then she is no lady.', the dwarf snickered in a teasing voice.

I went silent for a moment before I began to blush like nuts as I understood what Gimli had been about to say.

"I didn't knee his stomach, did I?', I asked painfully.

"No, lass. That was most definitelynothis stomach." He chuckled at my discomfort before Boromir slapped him upside the head. Gimli muttered something in Dwarfish before giving his head a good shake and continuing to walk.

The doors were opened and Gríma was thrown out of the palace. As he rolled down the steps, his lip busted in several places as it collided with the rough stone.

"P-please.', he sniveled. "I've only ever served you, my lord. Send me not from your side!"

"You're leech craft—', Théoden snarled. "—would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!"

He raised his sword and swung it towards Gríma's neck.

"No, my lord!', Aragorn shouted as he leapt next to the king's side and stilled the blade's movement. "Let him go. Enough blood has been spilt on his account."

The ranger offered his hand to Gríma, but the disgusting man spat in his palm before stumbling to his feet and disappearing into the crowd.

"Hail, Théoden King!', Aragorn bellowed. The inhabitants of Edoras bowed before their ruler and the bloodlust in Théoden's eyes turned to panic as he surveyed the crowd.

"Where is Théodred? Where is my son?"

Gimli, who was not paying attention, stared after Gríma as the man rode his horse out of the city gates.

"It's a miracle he can even sit down after what the lass did to him.', he mumbled to himself. Legolas bit his lip to keep from laughing and I glared at the both of them.

This is just like those terrible movie scenes where the characters accidentally laugh during a funeral...