Okay, so I'm not overly proud of this one but I gotta get this plot moving in the right direction. Those of you kind enough to review have expressed some interest in Dagaz so guess who's here to stay? (But not in this chapter). Instead, let's look in on my personal fav character, Grima…

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"You have promised me something, Saruman." Grima Wormtongue stood before his superior, arms crossed. Not in the way a petulant child does, but in the way a man readying himself for a fight would. His eyes darted this way and that, like a frightened alley cat. Don't let him know you're scared shitless, Grima.

"And what's that? The promise of a Wizard?" Saruman spat back, but otherwise seemed to ignore Grima entirely. As of late, Saruman had worsened at keeping his word.

"I've been reliably informed that it frequently means a great deal. And although at this point it would be impossible for me to have Eowyn as she is most likely dead, you still promised me Edoras, at the end of things." Grima's jaw tensed. "And my part is finished. You have Helm's Deep."

"What would you do, Grima, if I never held up my end of the bargain, hm? What is the worst you could do? I do not fear you. Rohan has fallen by my hand, with my army. What have you done?" Saruman didn't have the patience to deal with Grima's souring mood. He had other, more important things to attend to; the next step in his plans, for instance, which he was unsure of. All the more reason to think on that then deal with his pesky human spy.

Grima laughed, which caught Saruman's attention. It was not often he did that.

"Is this a ploy, Saruman? Did you think you could buy intelligence with empty promises? Is this your last ditch attempt to double cross me?" Grima seemed amused, looked at Saruman he was some fantasy-ridden teenager. It angered the Wizard.

"Where are you going with this, Worm?" His eyes narrowed, grasping his staff tightly, making sure Grima hadn't had any plans to attempt physical assault. Not that it would have mattered, as his smaller stature and submissive attitude put him at an automatic disadvantage. However, in this moment,

"I wouldn't have gone into dealings with a powerful wizard such as yourself without knowing for sure I was going to get my slice of the cake." Grima said, almost snarled, "I have… insurance."

"Oh? I'm sure this 'insurance of yours is going to stay my hand from smiting you when I feel the time is right."

"Oh, indeed, it is, my lord. I have insurance, and her name is Kaali."

Grima watched with glee as Saruman's eyes flashed with anger, hatred, and maybe a little bit of fear.

"Now that word has probably gone out that the Deep is taken, she is making her way to Edoras as we speak. And if I am not there, sitting on Theoden's throne and pissing on his memory, she knows where to find you. I'll have my reward for endangering my life at the hands of those straw-headed barbarians."

"She is no Wizard, Grima." Saruman said, scrambling to get the upper hand in this argument. "My race was blessed with magic. My powers far outshine that of some mountain-dwelling elf shaman. I do not fear her." Saruman was trying harder to convince himself than Grima. It had been hundreds of years since anyone had heard out of the anarchic and far more liberal party of Forest elves moved away from their brethren and into the mountains facing Dunland. They were not as powerful, nor did they live as long, yet found themselves to be gifted shamans of the Dunlending Pantheon.

Any average shaman, especially one who turned away from the Valar, would be of no threat. But he heard rumour that Kaali had gained the affection of a power darker and more powerful than either of them.

"It isn't her I would fret over, my friend."

The usage of the word "friend" coming from the Worm grinded on Saruman's ears.

"Fine! Send for your wretched family and take any soldier stupid enough to go with you and have your forsaken city. I hope it burns to the ground." Saruman picked up a quill and bottle of ink and lobbed it across the room, which Grima ungracefully managed to dodge. Grima straightened and walked out of the room, on his way out saying,

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you." And the Worm's unpleasant laughter filled the halls of Isengard.

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"Sir, the whole of Helm's Deep is teeming with orcs. It's over." Ingwaz bowed his head before Eomer. He had been trying to tell his thick-headed cousin that going to the Deep would be a grave mistake.

"I still don't understand why you're trying to talk me out of action. They are just a random assemblage of Orcs and Goblins." Eomer said sourly.

Ingwaz narrowed his eyes, Eomer was his superior, but this was getting ridiculous. "Just Orcs?" Ing's voice raised. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do think I'm lying? Exaggerating? You think this is some kind of fucking joke? I watched them kill an elf. Sliced him right open like a Yule-tide ham." Eothin, who had been silent the whole time, widened his eyes. Ing had refused to speak to him the whole way back. He knew now why. "There's nothing we can do to save the Deep. Not now."

"I don't believe he is lying, Eomer." Gandalf intervened, attempting to defuse the situation a bit. Then, directing his attention to Ingwaz, said, "What did this elf look like?"

Ingwaz looked about, trying to draw the memory back to him. "Uhm… tall, blonde, pretty boy. Just like every other elf I've ever seen. It was very far away…" He said, obviously slightly taken aback by the sudden change of topic.

"Was he armoured?"

Ingwaz thought another moment. "I don't think so."

Gandalf's eyes closed and his brow furrowed. Thinking it was Legolas, his eyes watered. "We have to do something, Eomer. But we'll need more men."

"Why?" Eomer asked, truly itching for a fight.

"You underestimate Saruman. I can guarantee that if there was enough Orcs to take down Helm's Deep, there are too many for just the Rohirrim to fight. We must ride to Gondor. Now."

Eomer tensed. "We were too late."

"It isn't your fault."

But this was what Eomer felt. His mind went immediately back to the times when everything was at least semi-normal. Before Helm's Deep and exile and Orcs and war. He should have come to Theodred's aid sooner, should have saved his life, killed Grima, or had him fired, held on to his Uncle's sanity for dear life and, at the least, should have died at Helm's Deep with him. Should have told Eowyn he loved her, and that she was the best sister he could ask for. Had he done this, he would have died far more content than this moment, knowing spear and club had saved his limb. But now it was too late. They were dead.

All he could do now was avenge them. He would divert his attention from protecting the family he no longer had to protecting the rest of Middle Earth, he decided.

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Eowyn was having a rough time surviving in the mountainous wilderness. But, at least she was alive. She had set up camp near a cold spring, and found a few edible plants and freshwater clams. She never got enough to eat, but in her opinion, she was doing remarkably well considering she was injured and totally bereft of tools. For now, her shoulder was wrapped in a haphazard patch of grass and stems. Better than nothing. She hoped that not all was lost. Perhaps this war was still salvageable. But Helm's Deep was to be such a paramount turning point, how could the free people of Middle Earth ever tip the scales in their favour? At a different time, she may have thought it could be done, but having seen the horror she had experienced this week, she was not quite so optimistic.

The loss of her hope killed her inside.

It was the one thing she had left. And did she not say, more or less, that the loss of hope was what she feared the most?

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Oops, I created an entire new race, silly me….

So… yeah… If I start to get a little overboard with the OCs or OC mentions, lemme know.