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Broken - Chapter III

Poison

Edoras, Mid-February 3018 T.A.

When Èomer entered the King's Hall, he found to his great dismay that Grima Wormtongue was there to greet him. He usually didn't mind the advisor's presence, but he didn't like his stolen glances at Èowyn.

"I see you have returned, Lord Èomer." Grima said. "What news do you bring from the Eastfold? The King didn't expect you to return so soon."

"I will speak with the King, Grima. I have news of great importance, and I won't waste them on a mere advisor." He moved past Wormtongue, but the King's advisor didn't let the matter drop.

He looked scornfully at Èomer. "Watch your tongue, Èomer son of Eomund. You are only here because the King wishes so."

"I am aware of that." With that Èomer turned his back on Grima with a grim look on his face, and kneeled before his uncle at the throne. "My King."

"Èomer, you have returned. I take it everything is fine at our eastern borders." Théoden said with a hint of a smile on his face.

Èomer stood up. "I'm afraid not, my lord. We drove back a large band of Orcs earlier this month, but there will be more. I'm afraid we cannot hold the them all at bay with the scarce forces we have."

Théoden frowned. "Go on."

"They moved past Entwash and the strong hold of Darrowdale three weeks ago…"

Grima walked up to the King and spoke quietly, "If Mordor has sent Orcs over our borders we need to send more men to the Folde, my lord."

Eòmer, having heard the remark, shook his head. "But there are none, my lord. Westfold and Edoras…"

Théoden raised his hand and Èomer fell silent. "Grima is right, Èomer. We need to stop these foul beasts of the east."

"If I may, my lord…" Grima said and stood up. "I think we should send men from the Westfold and Helm's Deep. There is no threat to our western borders and there are not enough riders in Edoras alone."

Èomer opened his mouth to speak, but the King silenced him again. "Yes, send word to Helm's Deep. The companies and eoreds there are to join the riders in Aldburg."

"But, my lord… those are Théodred's men, and I think it unwise to leave Helm's Deep and the western borders defenseless."

Théoden seemed slightly angered. "What threat is there to the Westfold when the riders protect our country in the east? Orcs don't come this far…"

The words hang a long time in the air before the King spoke again. "Those are my final orders, Èomer. You are to summon the riders of Théodred's companies and ride to Aldburg. From there you will take the men to Darrowdale and fight back the enemy."

Èomer bowed, not intending to question the King's orders. He knew all too well that he was not in the position to argue with the King. Èomer was about to leave, but the King stopped him with silent and weary words, "And please... do not mention Théodred again when it comes to matters like these. For the moment I think he is incapable of being in command of any eoreds. Now go. You are dismissed."

When Èomer left the throne room and made his way to his quarters, he wasn't at all surprised to find his sister sitting on his bed. She stood up as he approached her. "I'm sorry. I heard all that, Eòmer... and I don't think you should go. At least not with the men of Helm's Deep. Théodred ordered them there for a reason."

"I know, sister. But what can I do? In the King's eyes I'm merely a warrior. Even as the Third Marshal I have no true authority."

Èowyn sat down on the bed again. "You are wrong. He thinks of you as more than that. In fact, you are quite possibly to be his heir."

"What?" Èomer looked shocked beyond reason and Èowyn sighed.

"I heard him speak with Théodred and Grima. If our cousin doesn't meet the King's requirements, he will make you the heir of Rohan."

Èomer finished taking off his armor and sat down beside his sister. "What in Bema's name has been going on these last few months?"

"Too much. Far too much for you to hear." She looked up at him, her face expressionless. "You know that Théodred rode to Helm's Deep despite the King's orders."

"Yes."

"Well… uncle, or rather Grima, called him back a few days ago and Théodred had a talk with the King... and as you might guess, it didn't end very well."

Èomer took Èowyn's hand and squeezed it, but he was at a loss for words. He had always admired Théodred, but these revelations made him uneasy.

"The men trust him, Èomer. Militarily he's been considered half a ruler already."

Èomer sighed. "Èowyn, you don't need to tell me this. You know I hold our cousin in high esteem… but I agree with the King. He can't keep fighting his father's will. I wish I had more time to try and talk to him, but soon I'll return to Aldburg again and I don't know when I will be back in Edoras again. I'm sorry, Èowyn."

He walked up to the table and poured himself a cup of water. When he turned to look at Èowyn, he found her gone and heard the door slam shut behind her. Èomer cursed. Would things never settle down in this household?

Èowyn stormed out of the hall and slowed down her pace as a cold breeze touched her cheeks and wiped away her tears. Her gaze swept over the open plains below the city and shivered at the shadow that had engulfed the grasslands. Reluctantly she turned her gaze away and her eyes fell upon Grima Wormtongue who was standing in the doorway of the Golden Hall.

"Why so upset, my lady?" Grima spoke softly and Èowyn quickly turned away. She had no desire to talk with the King's advisor now. However, to her great dismay Grima never let go once he had the chance.

"I understand this whole situation with the Prince is confusing and unbearable."

"Don't speak of my cousin in that tone." Èowyn said bitterly and looked away.

"I'm sorry if I've given offense, my lady. It's sad, it is… that the Prince should be in such a state."

Èowyn glared angrily at him. It was disgusting how he managed to make such crude words sound so sensible and kind. "What do you want?"

Grima walked closer and touched her arm gently. Surprised, Èowyn withdrew from the sudden and unwelcome touch, but the King's advisor grabbed her arm in a tight, yet gentle grip.

"What do you fear, my lady? You are the white lady of Rohan."

He pulled her closer and Èowyn grimaced in disgust. "Every day I see you on your King's side, weeping tears that have no reason… and every time you leave, you give him that same look of sadness. Èowyn... your fairness doesn't need to suffer this fate."

Èowyn looked into Grima's grey eyes and for a second she felt almost soothed by their coldness, but then she saw the lies and falseness behind the frame and she shook herself free from his grasp.

"Leave me alone, Grima. I do not wish to be treated like a child. If you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to." She stepped past him and walked back inside the Hall.

Grima looked long after her with a small smile on his lips and his eyes ablaze with greed and desire.

Èowyn didn't know what to do or where to go. She wandered aimlessly through the hallways of Meduseld and ended up outside Théodred's bedroom. Out of habit she opened the door and closed it behind her. She walked up to the bed where her cousin was soundly asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She bent down on her knees beside the bed, resting her head in her arms. And that's when she truly wept until she no longer had the strength to fight the doors of sleep.

-0-0-0-

At the break of dawn two days later, the men of Aldburg were preparing to leave. Èomer had summoned his eored and had sent a courier, carrying a message from the King, to Helm's Deep.

He was alone in the royal stables, saddling Firefoot when someone appeared outside the stall. When Èomer looked up to see who it was, his mouth fell open in surprise.

Théodred chuckled slightly at the image of his cousin, but then his face became as expressionless as it had been. He took a few steps closer to Èomer and his voice was wavering as he spoke. Still, he managed to sound like the brother and cousin Èomer knew him as.

"Good morning, cousin. It has been far too long."

Èomer, not knowing what to say, simply nodded. But, as a weak smile appeared on Théodred's face, Èomer returned the smile. "Yes. It has been far too long."

They embraced and for a moment Èomer forgot everything that had happened in the past few months. That was before Thédored spoke again – all traces of a smile gone from his face.

"Èomer, I don't ask this lightly..." The words surprised him as much as the fact that Théodred had come down to speak with him. "But I must ask you... not as your Prince, but as your brother... don't summon the riders of Westfold."

"You came down here to tell me this?" Èomer asked, but seeing the hurt in his cousin's eyes made him regret his words.

However, Théodred continued before he could apologize. "I know I should have spoken to you earlier… but there was nothing to say. You, like the rest of Edoras believed everything the King's advisor said of me… and then you were always in Aldburg whenever I rode from Helm's Deep."

Èomer looked into his cousin's dim eyes. He noted that Théodred looked unusually pale and even frail. He tried to read his cousin, but Théodred shielded his emotions well. When Èomer finally spoke, his words came out harsher and colder than he had intended.

"Théodred, you shouldn't be here. Grima…"

"Don't mention his cursed name." Théodred spitted the words out as if they were poison. "What authority does he hold? Èomer, I never thought I would have to tell you this… but either you choose to trust your kin… or then a wretched stranger who claims to be the King's advisor."

Théodred didn't release his gaze from Èomer and his eyes pierced into Èomer's like burning arrowheads. "Tell me, cousin. Is it by the King's words you ride to Eastfold… or by Grima's?"

"Théodred." Èomer began, a bit unsure on how to approach his cousin, who for the moment seemed perfectly sane. "Don't…"

"Do I really look that ill to you, Èomer? Am I out of my mind?"

"I don't know, my lord." Èomer turned his attention back to Firefoot, but as he heard a thud from Théodred's direction he quickly turned to look at his cousin who had collapsed against the wall and was barely able to stand. Èomer reached out to help him, but Théodred waved him away.

Instead he said in a quiet, almost hollow voice, "Just remember what you fight for. That's all I ask..."

Èomer looked deep into those blue green eyes and saw the sense and conviction behind the weary and dimmed lenses. However, before Èomer got another chance to speak to his cousin, he could hear approaching voices and a moment later Èowyn and the court healer Fréya appeared outside Firefoot's stall with Èlfhelm following soon behind.

By then the poor horse was totally confused about the sudden amount of people around his stall and probably wondered whether he and his master would be going anywhere that day.

When Èowyn saw that Théodred was there, she quickly bent down beside her cousin and gave Èomer a questioning look – a look he answered with a shrug. He and Èlfhelm then helped a trembling Thédored to his feet and Èowyn took his hand.

"Please, cousin, let us take you back to your chambers. You are burning with fever and shouldn't be outside. I'll make sure you'll be left alone for a while."

As Èomer watched them go, he got the strange feeling that he might not see his cousin again in a long time. If ever...