A/N: It's been a gruesome five years since my last new chapter, and I seriously never thought I'd get back to working on this story again. Not because it hasn't been on my mind, but because I had kind of lost the plot line and inspiration.

I have also edited all the previous chapters and changed both minor and major details in the plot, so if you are an old reader, then I suggest that you at least skim through the previous chapters.

Broken – Chapter XVI

The Crow and the Eagle

He was moving through the forest with light strides, the soft grass and the dry leaves tickling his bare feet. Winter was approaching, but the cold didn't bother him. He embraced it. Soon the days would grow shorter. Perhaps there would be no daylight at all…

A small rustle among the trees made him freeze in his tracks. Quietly he placed an arrow on the bowstring and waited. Nothing moved. Just as he was about to lower his bow, a crow flew over his head and landed on a low tree branch. He drew back the string and the crow tilted its head curiously.

Then it shrieked loudly and the arrow burst from the bow.

But, the crow was gone long before the arrow reached its target… and in its place stood the White Wizard, surrounded by a blinding sphere of light. The arrow fell down by the Wizard's feet, harmless and unmoving.

The forest was deadly quiet.

"Son?"

He turned around to look for the source of the voice, but there was nothing in the forest – just the Wizard and him. Still, the voice kept repeating its mournful question. He told it to stop, but the voice was ever present.

When he looked in the direction of the Wizard again, he could see more clearly the shape standing in the beam of light. The light faded even more and suddenly he was face to face with his father. Or at least what was left of him…

Then the voice spoke again, sounding like his father but much deeper and darker. It was the Wizard's lips that moved. "You cannot hide from me forever..."

There was a burst of light, followed by searing pain, and then the Wizard and his father were gone. As he looked down towards the source of the pain, he found his own arrow embedded in his chest...

Fangorn Forest, October 23, 3018 T.A.

With a start, Théodred woke from the dream and looked around. It was still dark, but soft chirping of the morning bird told him it was just before dawn. Still shaken by the dream, he rubbed life into his numb body. He was tired from the lack of sleep that his dreams brought him, but he knew that he wouldn't fall asleep again. He never did.

As dawn slowly began to break, he picked up his bow and quiver, and made his way southwest through the woods. The moon still shone faintly through the treetops, but he would have fared well without its light even in the dead of night.

He moved quietly with certain footsteps and listened to the rustle of leaves with alert ears – so unlike before, when he had ridden the plains in broad daylight, listening to the sound of hoof beats and clanging armor. Back then he had been a proud warrior… and now he was just a shadow among the trees.

He wasn't sure how long he walked, but when rays of sunlight started to stream through the trees, he finally reached the crest he sought. Climbing his way to the top, a shiver ran through him as the landscape below him met his eyes.

Isengard.

No longer lush with trees... but a stronghold of iron and stone – as dead and harsh as the heart of the traitor who resided in the black tower.

Théodred looked at the sight before him with cold, lifeless eyes. Then, as two pheasants hooted in the trees, he finally turned his back on the abomination and began the hunt.

-0-0-0-

Dríana sat shivering by the weak flames of a fire when Théodred returned with the two birds around mid-morning. Seeing his distant eyes and thin frame brought a lump in her throat. She watched silently as he gave the fire new life and then started to pluck the birds.

"My lord?"

He froze so suddenly that it looked like he had been slapped. Cursing her own carelessness and stupidity, Dríana muttered an apology. She knew that he didn't want to be reminded of his past… or the present for that matter.

Prudently she took another approach. "You left early this morning. It was still dark."

"Yes." He answered without looking up. The first bird was almost done, its feathers spread out on the ground beneath it.

"Why?"

"I wanted to make it higher up the mountainside..."

It wasn't hard for her to tell that it was a lie. "You went south, didn't you?" When there was no answer, she continued. "You went to Isengard..."

At those words, he finally looked up at her. "Yes."

It had been reckless, he knew. Orcs and Uruk-hai roamed the woods both day and night, and that close to Isengard he could easily have been seen. Not even the eerie chill of Fangorn Forest kept them at bay.

Dríana repeated her earlier question. "Why?"

Théodred put the plucked bird aside and shrugged. "I wanted to see… with my own eyes. You know, what the old man told us…"

Dríana noted that he avoided the word 'Wizard', despite the fact that he knew exactly who that old man had been.

-0-

About a month earlier, an eagle's screech had alerted Théodred from his light sleep… and as the eagle had circled towards the ground, Théodred's bow had fired. But, instead of hitting the mighty bird, a flash of light had stopped the arrow... just like in his dream with the crow.

The voice that had spoken had been both stern and kind. "Shooting an eagle is not something you want to do unless you have a death-wish…"

Standing beside the great eagle had been an old man with tattered grey robes and a long silver beard. Théodred had only seen the man once before, but the face of Gandalf the Grey was a face one hardly forgot.

With a nod from the Wizard, the eagle had ascended to the skies, with Théodred looked longingly after it. And not out of hunger.

"Perhaps I do, old man."

The Wizard had then fixed him with an odd stare, a look of recognition passing over his wrinkled features. But, he hadn't said a word, and for that Théodred had been grateful. He doubted that even his cousins would have recognized him in his present state.

His clothes were ragged and torn, his hollow features covered with dirt and cuts, and the bow he carried was a hand carved hunter's bow… not a horse bow. Even if they had been in Edoras, the Wizard couldn't possibly have recognized Théodred son of Théoden.

And still Théodred had seen how Gandalf's gaze had lingered on his blue green eyes, a frown appearing on his old face… and then fading away.

"Very well, I shall be on way then. I do find myself in a bit of a haste to se an old friend."

Théodred hadn't bothered with kind words. "Unless it's one of the tree herders, I doubt you'll find anyone here… except Orcs."

"Well, I found you, didn't I?" The Wizard had turned to look at Théodred, his strange wise eyes studying the young Rohirrim.

"Were you even looking?"

A mysterious smile had appeared on the old man's cracked lips. "Sometimes it's easier to find what you are looking for when you don't make an effort of it."

Théodred had almost smiled. But just almost… and that feeling had quickly passed away when he had made the error of asking the Wizard what had brought him to Fangorn Forest on one of the proud eagles of the north.

-0-

As Théodred looked at Dríana again, he found her studying him curiously. With a slight blush she averted her eyes. His clothes might have been ragged and his skin more of a Wildman's than a Prince's, but in her eyes he was still her Lord.

After a moment, he broke the silence that had fallen between them. "I had another dream."

"Like the ones before?" She asked, knowing quite well that the answer was yes. He always dreamed the same dream. A little different than the one before... but still the same.

The first one had occurred three nights after the Wizard's visit, and she had been awakened by him squeezing her wrist so tight that she had feared that it might break. However, the sight of his face had made her forget about the pain. Cold sweat had been running down his forehead and his eyes had stared into emptiness while he whispered, "The snake is clever... but the eagle will catch it."

And there was no doubt in her mind that in his dream her hand had been the snake.

Edoras, October 26th, 3018 T.A.

At the sound of the horn, the gates of Edoras closed for the night. The city quieted down and only a few lights stayed on here and there. From her window in her private chambers, Éowyn watched as the stars lit the dark sky above the plains and the moon rose above the White Mountains.

She hadn't dared hope for a very long time, but now she found herself contemplating the Wizard's words once again… and it brought her hope. If her cousin wasn't dead, then whose body had the riders found by the river? And who had put that body there, and why?

You cousin is probably the sanest of you all...

Gandalf's words echoed in her mind. What had Théodred seen that neither she nor Èomer had? And why…

Èowyn's eyes narrowed. It was simple. Someone had wanted Théodred out of the way… and when failing to find him, framed his death instead to drain Rohan off all hope.

Thinking back to those days and weeks before and after her cousin's disappearance, she came to think of Grima Wormtongue's relentless persistence to try and find him. He hadn't even tried to conceal his fury. And then, a few days later he had been practically smiling… as if he knew something that no one else in Edoras did.

Èowyn had never liked nor trusted the man, but that had mainly been because of his lustful glances in her direction. Now, however, there was a different reason, and she knew exactly why she had come to hate him. The King listened to no one but him… and who knew what lies and corrupt words Wormtongue was whispering in the King's ear?

Whatever it was, one thing was clear, though. It was no longer Théoden son of Thengel who ruled the Riddermark. They could all see that now… and yet they did nothing, knowing quite well what the wrongs words and actions would bring them.

Èowyn laughed at the irony. The brave men and riders of Rohan… scared of a snake. Only the Prince had been brave enough to face those poisonous fangs.