A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update. This chapter was something of a struggle for me, because I had to figure out how Gríma was going to get in and everything and how Èowyn was going to react to his presence. Plus, I was just writing Incredibles fanfiction and there is a completely different sort of language used in The Incredibles as compared to Tolkien's language in Lord of the Rings. So anyway, I'm hoping that doesn't show. Also, I decided that Aragorn's almost-dying and then seeing the Uruk-hai and warning Théoden sequence from the movie was completely unnecessary and I therefore acted as though it didn't happen. So Gríma is bringing them some new news when he tells them about the giant army. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Helm's Deep was a threatening presence, and Gríma loathed it already. He had visited it a few times, but not for any particular purpose, and he had hated it then, too - a monument to war and battle and senseless butchery, and that disgusting sense of Rohirric honor. Gríma glared at the fortress, focusing all of his hatred and anger and fear upon it, as though this would cause it to crumble.

But Èowyn… beloved Èowyn is there.

Gríma sighed almost angrily. Èowyn. He would see her again soon, if he weren't killed upon sight. He'd be extremely lucky if Théoden was merciful.

Théoden had always been merciful to him, even when everyone else had hated him.

Gríma felt a stab of guilt at what the thought of what he had come to do. He had been surprised, of late, at how frequently guilt for his deeds had plagued him. He had done so many things in his lifetime, so many things worthy of remorse, but he had never regretted them. And now, to lament this…?

Gríma jabbed his heels into his horse's sides. His feelings were not important in this matter. He had come to save Èowyn, and to complete Saruman's mission, and he would do it, if only for the prize he would receive in the end.

His horse galloped swiftly across the plains and approached the gate. He reined in his horse upon arriving at the heavy wooden doors and looked up at the guards who stood atop it. They glared coldly at him. "What are you doing here, snake?" one of them snarled.

"Saruman is sending a vast army!" Gríma cried in his most frightened voice. "Ten thousand strong, at the very least! I came to warn you!"

"And to betray us," another guard hissed. "Why should we believe you? You lied to us before."

"Please!" Gríma begged fervently. "It is urgent that I speak with Théoden King on this matter!"

One of the guards was about to reply when Gríma heard a familiar voice - a voice he loved more than anything in the world.

"Gríma?" Èowyn appeared above the gate.

A sincere smile crossed Gríma's face. "My princess," he breathed.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, and although she sounded angry, she was slightly less harsh than the guards.

Gríma bowed slightly. "My Lady, Saruman is a cruel man. He had mistreated me until I thought I might lose my sanity. This mark you see upon my face is from him." Gríma motioned to the ugly, bluish-black bruise that had formed from Saruman's staff. "I could not remain with a master so wicked. I came to warn you and your uncle, and all the army of the Rohirrim, that Saruman has unleashed his Uruk-hai - a band ten thousand strong or more."

There was silence from above. Then Gríma heard Èowyn command, "Open the gates."

"But my Lady -!" one of the guards protested.

"Open the gates!" Èowyn repeated angrily. "Do you think my uncle would not wish to know this?"

"Someone else can tell him," the guard said. "Please, my Lady, he may be lying."

"We cannot risk that," Èowyn said firmly. She turned and disappeared from his view, but he still heard her call, "Open the gates for him!"

Reluctantly, the guards obeyed. Gríma entered, relieved that this first stage of his plan had fallen into place.

Once inside the gates, Gríma dismounted, extremely sore and tired from riding so long and so hard. He knew how abused and bedraggled he must have looked, which, he assumed, would only help his story's success.

He was obviously correct in this judgment. Èowyn - charming, beautiful, glorious Èowyn - was suddenly by his side, and she wrapped her arm around his shoulder - oh, Èowyn, my precious, my love, thank you - and helped him to walk up the many stairs. "You and I," she said in a frigid tone, "Have much to discuss, Lord Counsellor."

"My Lady, please," Gríma began. "I beg your - "

"Don't play your twisted games with me, Gríma," she spat. "You aren't here to help us at all, are you?"

Gríma looked at her evenly. "If you believe that, then why did you allow me entrance to your fortress?"

She bit her lip and looked away. "I had to speak with you," she said carefully. "There are… many things that I need to know."

"Such as?" Gríma questioned, raising a nonexistent eyebrow.

Èowyn did not reply to his question. "I will take you to my uncle," she said stiffly.

"And afterwards, my sweet, sweet princess?"

"Do not address me so informally, snake," she spat. After a moment, she said, "I will speak with you later. Gamling will bring you to my quarters when Théoden King has finished with you."

Gríma bowed as best he could while still walking and being supported by Èowyn's arm. "As you wish, my Lady," he said.

They continued their walk in silence, but Gríma silently exulted the fact that Èowyn did not once remove her arm from his shoulders. So even the lovely princess cares somewhat for the worm, Gríma thought with deep satisfaction. I am glad of it.

They seemed to walk on forever, the silence heavy around them and cold stares following them wherever they walked. Gríma was aware of this, but made attempts to remain aloof; he was better than these peasants, yes, wiser and better educated, and he would not deign to acknowledge their feelings. He bowed only to those that he considered on a level with or above himself, and there were relatively few of those.

After a flight of stairs that were of such great length that Gríma suspected they would kill him before they reached the top, Théoden finally appeared, followed closely by the strangers that Gríma had seen in the Golden Hall and a few guards. Gríma straightened a little, and Èowyn's arm dropped from him. Gríma did his best to hide his disappointment, but it was so great that he guessed that it must have shown at least a little.

At first, Théoden did not notice him. He continued giving orders to his soldiers, a king once more. But after a moment, he glanced towards his niece and former counsellor and stopped dead. "Gríma," he said icily.

Gríma bowed deeply. "My liege," he murmured, aware of the extremely dangerous position he was in.

"I did warn you that if we met again I would kill you, did I not?" Théoden spat.

Gríma dropped to one knee. "Do what you must, my liege," he said heavily. "But I have news of the utmost importance. Before you kill me, you should at least hear me."

Théoden glared at him, but glanced warily to Èowyn.

Èowyn came forward, never groveling in the slightest. "He claims that Saruman is sending an army, my Lord," she said. "A great army - large enough to destroy us. At least, I believe that was his implication at the gate."

"Why do you bring us this news?" Théoden demanded. "Do you turn on every master who has the misfortune to have you in his service?"

"My liege, please," Gríma practically whimpered. "You do not understand what Saruman is like. He is violent, and cruel, and heartless."

"And you are not?" Théoden said frigidly.

Gríma lifted his head. "That should have been made obvious," he said in a low voice, "By the prize which I was offered."

Èowyn blushed deeply at this, and Théoden looked grave. "The method by which you made to gain this prize showed your true character," he said, looking at his sister-daughter. "I do not trust him."

"My liege, I beg of you to listen to me!" Gríma pleaded. "I know what I have done is unforgivable in the eyes of your people, but I did not come here to betray you again!" Ah, how easily the lie slipped from his lips. "I came to warn you, and to aid you if I could! Do you not see the mark that Saruman himself left upon my face? Mayhap I was deserving of such abuse, but even so, one can only take so much punishment!"

Even the cold glares of the peasants softened slightly at the sight of the bruise crossing Gríma's face. It made sense, of course, that he would flee from such harshness. And why would the traitor not do the same to his true master as he had done to Théoden previously?

Théoden seemed to think on this for several moments. The strangers stood silently behind him, staring down at Gríma's kneeling figure. He returned their gazes one by one - the dwarf, who had held him down; the Elf, who fought with such grace and could clearly see so much; and the Man, who had saved his life at the Golden Hall. Gríma silently wondered where the wizard could possibly be, but put the thought aside. He had had enough of wizards. Gríma would not have been at all sad to learn that Gandalf was not present.

Gríma's attention was drawn back to the present when Théoden reached down to help him rise once more. "I do not believe," Théoden said softly, "That you are lying to me. This does not, however, mean that I trust you. You will have to earn that."

Gríma bowed once more. "I fully intend to do so, my liege," he said.

Théoden did not smile. "You will be guarded at all times, to ensure that you do nothing to harm us," he told Gríma. "You will never be left alone until I feel that you are trustworthy. For the time being, you will go into Helm's Deep and remain inside the fortress during battle."

Everyone looked surprised to hear this. "My lord, should he not fight?" Èowyn questioned, bewildered.'

"It would be too easy for him to betray us in battle," Théoden said. "We would be distracted and unable to stop him if he chose to open the inner fortress to the Uruk-hai."

"But could he not do the same from the inside?" Èowyn demanded. "You will not be able to spare the men to guard him!"

Théoden glanced at her and said calmly, "That is why I am entrusting you with this duty."

Both Gríma and Èowyn gaped at him. "But my Lord -!" Èowyn protested.

"Èowyn," Théoden said firmly, "You have a duty to me and to your people. I know how you long to fight. I cannot allow you to join the battle, but you can do this - for me. I trust you."

Èowyn glared at him angrily, but said nothing further against this. Gríma did not object, either; time alone with Èowyn was something he had previously only dreamed about. Surely Théoden knew that?

Then again, maybe Théoden did know and was simply using that to his advantage. Gríma could not determine what Théoden thought he was doing by charging Èowyn with this task. He didn't like that. Typically he knew what his opponents planned to do, but the meaning behind this was too ambiguous.

Èowyn finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen over the small group. "Very well, then," she said flatly. She turned to Gríma and said, "Shall we go, then? As I said before, I have many things to discuss with you."

Gríma bowed slightly to her. "Whatever my Lady desires," he said, almost mockingly. She glared icily at him and then turned away. Gríma was left with little choice but to follow.