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Chapter 6: A Marriage Proposal
The next morning Théodred invited the travelers to break fast with him, and Mithrandir used the opportunity to gather news about Rohan and its people.
"Your father Théoden, how fares he, Théodred?" he asked as he spooned porridge into his bowl.
"He begins to show his age, but I suppose that is only natural. I wish, though…." Here the Rider hesitated.
"What is it you wish, Théodred?"
"I wish he would not listen so much to the counsels of that wretch Gríma. Wormtongue I name him, for he writhes like an eel. I am sure he does not have my father's interests at heart."
Muttering broke out amongst the nearest Riders, and Mithrandir could tell that Théodred's sentiments were shared. Good. It had been a long time since Mithrandir had trusted the words of the Man who rode post between Edoras and Orthanc. Yet Saruman always seemed to welcome the visits of Gríma Wormtongue. Mithrandir wondered what the white wizard saw in the obsequious human.
"And how is your cousin Éomer?" asked Mithrandir.
Théodred grimaced a little. "You may consider yourself fortunate that you encountered me instead of him. He grows grim and unsmiling. He might have taken you for spies and acted accordingly."
"You can hardly blame him if he views the world with suspicion," Mithrandir pointed out.
"True," Théodred said sadly. "My father yet lives, whilst his was slain by Orcs when he was only a child. His mother died soon after, from grief, my father tells me. He has reason to be grim."
"And Éowyn?"
Théodred smiled fondly. "She is restless, that one."
"She has ever been so," Mithrandir observed. "I remember one time I was visiting Edoras, that she stole a horse from the stable and rode to Helm's Deep." The wizard chuckled. "How flummoxed the guard must have been when she galloped up the causeway and announced that she had come to inspect the fortress."
Théodred chuckled as well. "I remember the uproar the household was thrown into when she was discovered missing. But do you know," he added thoughtfully, "that when she returned, she had some very sensible things to say about the state of the Hornburg and its defenses. My father even acted upon some of her advice. He never told her, though, for he feared encouraging her waywardness."
"He acted upon some of her advice?"
"Yes, regarding the strengthening of the walls. Indeed," the Rider went on, "I think he should have acted upon all of her suggestions."
"Why do you say that?"
"'Tis true woman are slight of frame compared with men, but their eyes are as sharp—mayhap sharper in some respects, for they know they cannot rely upon their strength to keep them safe. They must be observant and clever where a man may rely solely upon force, perhaps to his peril if he overlooks a subtle threat. Éowyn is troubled by a culvert that breaches the Deeping Wall. It is small, an outlet for waste water, but she declares that small as it is it might be made use of by a clever foe. She begged my father that he would give orders for the redirecting of the water through some other channel. Gríma, however, argued that the expense in goods and labor would be too great, and as has all too often been the case, my father allowed the Wormtongue to rule him in this matter."
Théodred had been chewing on the heel of a loaf of bread, and with a sudden angry gesture, he threw it into the fire, glaring at it moodily as the flames consumed it. "And then there is the matter of Éowyn's marriage," he went on when the heel had been reduced to cinders.
"Ah, Éowyn has been promised to someone. Who is the fortunate man?"
"No, she has not been promised, as she should have been by now. Many names have been put forth, but Gríma finds fault with every suitor and will not even permit that the names be mentioned to Éowyn. Long ago my father swore to her that she would have some say in the matter of her marriage, but it seems that the promise is to be broken."
"Éowyn will not bear that well," Mithrandir observed. "She has the spirit of a Shield-Maiden."
"Yes, and Gríma uses that as an excuse for rebuffing all who would espouse her. He says none is her equal, that she must marry only a man who will someday wield great power. However, I am the only one hereabouts who will someday have the mastery, and Éowyn and I are too close to be espoused."
"Cousin marriages are permitted," Mithrandir pointed out.
"True, but I was not thinking in terms of the blood-connection. Gandalf, Éowyn and I were raised as brother and sister. I could no more marry Éowyn than Éomer could. I could never think of her as a wife, and I could never act toward her as a husband."
"That would be an impediment," said Mithrandir dryly. "Have you not considered looking outside the realm of Rohan for a suitable spouse for your cousin?"
"I have, Gandalf. Not three months ago I rode to Minas Tirith so that we might renew a trade agreement with the Steward of Gondor. There I met again the sons of Denethor."
"They are worthy Men," Mithrandir said cautiously. "I assume you are thinking that Éowyn ought to be espoused to the older one, who would be expected to succeed his father as Steward."
"I would not wish Boromir upon my cousin," Théodred replied heatedly. Mithrandir raised his eyebrows. Théodred flushed at his having spoken with such vehemence.
"Do not mistake me, Gandalf. Boromir is an honorable Man, but he is not suited in temperament to be husband to Éowyn. He has a pride tending to arrogance, and he would be oblivious to the fact that my cousin has claims to dignity equal to his own. He would appreciate neither her cleverness nor her spirit. She would be very unhappy as his wife. He would put her on display, a token of his puissance, but he would never grant her the scope for her own talents."
"It is Faramir, then, that you would have your cousin marry."
"Yes," Théodred said eagerly. "He is as honorable as Boromir, but his pride is of a different sort. He has a greater desire to do good than to be powerful, and he does not scorn those who are lower or weaker than he." There was no mistaking the look of frustration that now came upon the Rider's face. "Alas! When I mentioned his name to my father, Gríma sat at his right hand and had his judgment in his keeping. 'Faramir to espouse your cousin!' he scoffed. 'Would you have the Lady Éowyn marry a Man who is despised by his own father? Truly, little love must you bear for cousin if you would have her join her fate to that of a Man whose future will be blighted by the disgust he arouses in his closest kin'. Gandalf, I would have struck him down, but the courtesy of my father's hall forbade it. I would not bring shame upon the grey hairs of Théoden son of Thengel!"
Théodred sighed and fell silent. After awhile, he heard the sound of whinnying and looked up. Legolas had gone among the horses, and they were greeting him, butting one another in their eagerness to nuzzle his neck. Legolas was laughing and kissing every muzzle within reach. Théodred's eyes widened. "Gandalf," he said, turning again to the wizard, "your friend is named 'Legolas', is that not so?"
"True," replied the wizard.
"I have heard of a Legolas. He is the son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. Is this the same?"
"Yes," answered the Istar, keeping his face neutral.
"He is a prince, then. He is, moreover, estimable in his own right, both as a great archer and as the trusted companion of Gandalf the Grey."
"Yes," said the wizard again. He suspected he knew where these questions tended.
"I suppose," Théodred said carefully, "that his father has arranged a most excellent match for him."
"Not yet," said Mithrandir, trying not to laugh.
Théodred looked surprised. "Yet the maidens must flock about him."
"Legolas," said the wizard, "seldom alights long enough to give the maidens the opportunity to flock."
"Ah," said Théodred wisely, "much like a Rider. We are forever on the move."
"Rather more peripatetic I should say," replied Mithrandir. "Although you ride out on frequent sorties, you look to Edoras as your home. Legolas has no home. Or, rather, he has many. He is equally at home in Mirkwood, Lothlórien, and Imladris. And," the wizard added pointedly, "for an Elf he is yet young. It will be centuries before he develops any interest in settling down—if then!"
Théodred subsided. "Well," he said gloomily, "if in your wanderings you should encounter a Man both unwed and destined to wield power, kindly send word to me at Meduseld."
'I have encountered such a Man', Mithrandir thought to himself, 'but he is not for Éowyn'. Aloud he said, "I should not give up on Faramir if I were you. Perhaps circumstances will change, and a marriage will become feasible."
"I don't see how," Théodred grumbled. "Not as long as Gríma is in the picture."
Mithrandir briefly considered hinting to Théodred that one might perhaps take steps to remove Gríma from the picture. In the end, though, he refrained. The wizard was not certain that subornation of murder was part of his charge. 'In any event', he said to himself, 'it may be that Gríma is destined to play a role that I do not yet comprehend. It is best not to adopt the methods of the enemy unless it is indeed clear that such steps are unavoidable'.
Breakfast was now at an end. Mithrandir arose and politely bade Théodred farewell. "I am grateful for your hospitality, Théodred, but Legolas and I must now resume our journey."
"Where are you headed, Gandalf?"
"South."
"Ah, to Gondor."
"Perhaps I should be more explicit. Now that we have reached the Gap of Rohan, we shall travel east for a time before again turning south."
Théodred blanched. "Not Mordor," he whispered.
"The same," Mithrandir replied cheerfully.
Théodred quickly recovered himself. "Would you like an escort to our southern border?" he asked.
Mithrandir shook his head. "Nay, Théodred. 'Tis kind of you to offer, but we would lose the element of secrecy if you accompanied us."
"Will you accept the loan of two horses, then, to ease your passage?"
Legolas had drawn near, and at the word 'horses', he looked hopeful. "Aren't you tired of walking, Mithrandir?" he appealed. The wizard ignored him. "My young friend and I have already discussed whether or not to ride," he explained to Théodred. "Your offer is very generous, but we must decline it."
Legolas huffed. Stalking away, he pretended to busy himself with checking the straps of his quiver. As he adjusted them, he muttered elvish words that even Théodred, Man though he was, recognized to be oaths. The Rider nodded toward the Elf and grinned. "Your friend does not seem to be in accord with your wishes, Gandalf."
"Ah, youth," Mithrandir said, making a show of rolling his eyes. Then he grew serious. "There will come a day, Théodred, when neither I nor my friend will spurn any assistance that you or your fellows may proffer. Look to it!"
Théodred swung himself up on his horse. "You may count upon me and all who hold to me, Gandalf." With that he shouted to his comrades, "We ride north! Hah!"
Spurring their horses, the Rohirrim thundered forth. When they had crested the swell of the plain, Legolas came to stand by Mithrandir.
"They have magnificent horses," he said wistfully.
"Legolas," said the wizard, laying his hand upon the young Elf's shoulder, "I assure you that you will someday become better acquainted with the steeds of the Rohirrim. But not today, my lad, not today."
With that, Elf and wizard resumed their trek.