Frostbite

Éowyn, Théodred, Grima and the King sat in a small room of Meduseld.  A fire spat and smoked in the grate – the wind was from the East making it difficult to light a flame.  Théoden’s shoulders were far down in his chair, and there were deep shadows under his eyes.  A silence had fallen over them, and Éowyn watched as her cousin drank deeply from his mug.  Grima steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and, cocking an eyebrow, said, “My lord, this must be decided today.  Else the rider shall not reach the Dunharrow before the snows fall.”

Théoden sighed, saying, “I wonder what Eldwyn would have done with this.  My father always said that he knew the hearts of men.”  Grima sighed with great piety and said, “It is true my lord.  Wita Eldywn was the very wisest of men.”  Éowyn looked at him with suspicion – it had been no secret that Grima had hated Eldwyn, who had reciprocated.  The old man had left Edoras in Éowyn’s tenth year, and though Théoden had seen him on occasion their friendship had been greatly strained.  Eldwyn had died with the onset of this year’s winter and Théoden mourned the death of his friend more than he had mourned the death of the friendship. 

Théodred cleared his throat and said, “Father what is your mind?”  Théoden flexed his hands and said, “I know not Théodred.  In such cases as these it is normally the case that we would hold a court and decide the truth of the affair, but you tell me it would not be wise to travel to Dunharrow, and the matter cannot wait.”  Grima interrupted him and said, “And besides my lord, your health would surely forbid you from such a long journey.”  Théoden looked to him and said, “Read us the accusation once again.”

Grima spoke his voice seeming to slide across the floor of the room and twist around Éowyn’s ears.  “That Besyrwan did haunt and follow Claennis for many days, and that on the evening of the seventh night, upon hearing her complaint, he did ravish her.  We have heard of these things and have thought them fit for the King’s judgement.”  

Théoden sighed and said, “Without greater knowledge I can not make this judgement.  Know neither of you anything of this man?”  Both men shook their heads, but Éowyn spoke up, “Uncle, if I may…”

“My lord, Lady Éowyn is not a member of this council…”

“What I have to say bears upon this subject Uncle.”

Théoden looked at her, considering, and said, “Continue.”  Éowyn swallowed and said, “I have spoken often with freocwene Blostma, who is from Dunharrow, and she told me once of man she named Besyrwan Fyren for that he was often cruel to his horses and once beat a maidservant till she was blue.”

Grima smiled at her indulgently, “My lord, while this woman from whom Lady Éowyn received this information may have heard some story of Besyrwan’s conduct, surely it should be borne in mind that this woman, Claennis, has been named a whore.”  Théoden looked at his niece and said, “That is of import surely Éowyn.”

“But the words naming her as such came from the lips of the man accused Uncle; surely it is in his interest to paint such a picture.”

“He claimed, Lady Éowyn, to have received willing embraces from the woman many times.  Why should he lie?”

“But why would she accuse him if such were the case Hala Grima?  What benefit would it bring to her?”

“I know not, Lady Éowyn, but I have never claimed to understand the secrets of a woman’s heart.  My lord, we must not allow an honourable man to be traduced by a woman of such light virtue.”

Théodred cocked an eyebrow at Grima’s tone and said, “Father, surely we could postpone judgement until the spring?  If you cannot go, which I am sure you could, you could send Éomer or I in your stead.  We cannot judge the truth from Edoras.”

“And allow a man’s honour to be held in doubt all through the winter Prince?  Surely you must place some greater value on an unstained reputation than that?  We cannot allow light words and rumour to traduce him all winter long.”

Théoden straightened with a groan and said, “Théodred, Éowyn you both may be right, but without further knowledge we cannot hold this man guilty of such a crime – and he has been accused by a woman he names whore, let us not forget.  She may be merely attempting to safeguard her reputation with this story, but do we truly believe that one of the Rohirrim is capable of such an act?  I shall send to Dunharrow that he is absolved, but who is the captain in Buhr Marling?”

“I do not know Father, but Dúnhere is lord of Harrowdale, he would know.”

“Very good.  I shall send word that Besyrwan is to be watched for a year or more, and if any other accusation be made, or the captain is suspicious, than he shall bear the penalties.  Now you said you have something of great import to say.”

“Well father I have spoken with the other Marshals, and it seems we have all noticed a change in the last year or so.”

Théoden leaned forward, his eyes shining with anticipation – hearing of his Riders was one of the few things that could now kindle a light in his eyes.  “What has changed Théodred?”

Théodred looked at Éowyn and said, “Do you remember the case of the woman Elfara?”  Grima seemed to stiffen but he said nothing and Théoden said, “A little.  She vanished did she not?”

“She was captured by orcs, father, that at least was clear, but for all the destruction of the camp it did not seem as if they had killed her immediately.  Of late we have seen many more camps where the people have vanished.  Gamling ventured that perhaps they were captured to some purpose.”

“Did anything link them?”

“They were almost all from Edoras, with some few from Aldburg, and all had served the House of Eorl at some point, but that is all we could discover.”

“Does it worry you?”

“Yes, father.  I do not like it – they seem to be moving now with some purpose though I cannot yet tell what it is.  Éomer says his men have been drawn into pursuit twice now, as though his strength were being tested.”

“And what Prince is you suggestion?  Surely you do not think we can understand the strategy of mindless Orcs?”

“No, but it might be of some use, if the next time someone vanishes, we follow the trail and see where it leads.  We might gain some insight into their purpose.”

Éowyn stared into the fire; she was sick of these tales.  A new happening of that year’s summer, they terrified her.  Every few weeks an éored would return bearing news of another disappearance.  Thoughts of the tortures those men and women were forced to endure drove sleep from her bed, and she could almost smell the fear when she walked through Edoras.  She could not drive the image of a noose from her mind, and often fancied that she could feel it being slid around them.  Yet even these thoughts were swallowed by her anger; how could they assume such things?  How could they find in favour of Besyrwan, when they had no evidence to suggest that he had any honour?  The captain of Buhr Marling, who had written to Théoden, signing himself as such, seemed to have no high opinion of Besyrwan’s honour, and she herself had provided information shed light on the case, and yet they had absolved him completely.  At the least he should have been brought before the King for judgement, and the story, from both sides, heard in full before the King’s will was decided – it was a serious accusation and would have been seen as such under her Grandfather Thengel.  Yet Théoden passed it in a matter of minutes, swallowing contently the hearsay that Claennis was a whore when they had only the word of an accused ravisher to support it. 

She looked up – the men had finished talking, and as it was clear that Théoden was going to retire she was free to go.  She hefted her cloak onto her shoulder and left as quietly as possible.  Walking quickly through the hall she placed the heavy cloak about her shoulders and walked through the doors.  She raised her hood as the wind hit her hard.  Standing on the parapet she looked out over the valley.  A wild wind blew into her face, pushing back her hood, and to brace herself she had to spread her legs far apart.  An ice-cold rain was carried in the harsh winds, and the drops hit her face like stones.  She had to bend her head away from them, and as she did so, she looked to the city.  Fires blazed in every house, and yet, Meduseld was dark inside.  There were no bands of warriors singing songs of battle or fair women granting favours to the honourable – no, there was only a dark hall and a few gusts of smoke from the fire that smouldered yet in the hearth.  Éowyn sighed, despite it all she could not cry, she felt too weak for tears and eventually she turned and made her way back into the hall, her fingers blue.

She would seek her bed, and bury herself under as many quilts and furs as possible.  She felt chilled today – not just her hands, but all over, and what was worse, inside.  Yet Théodred came between her and her desire and called to her, saying “I would have some speech with you Éowyn.”  She sat with him and met his eyes, not without impatience.  “What is it that you would know?”

“Earlier, when we discussed the accusation of the woman Claennis, you seemed, angry or…I do not know, but I wondered why it bothered you so.”

“Did it not bother you cousin?  My uncle’s judgement was wrong in this case, you know it as well as I.”

“I agree with you Éowyn, but, it was more than that.  I could see it.”

“There is nothing more.”

“Éowyn.”

“How could he call her a whore?  For making an accusation against a man who robbed all her honour?  That is the highest proof that she is not Théodred – if she truly were, she would seek to hide this tale, not publish it.”

Her cousin looked her over with worry in his eyes, and took her hand in his, “Éowyn if there…if there is aught you wish to tell me, I shall hear it with open ears.  You need not fear anything you know.”  She laughed bitterly, but smiled at him with sorrow in her heart; she would not tell him – he would only be ashamed of her, and she could not stand to bring grief to him and her Uncle.  They had given her a home, and she would not stain it with dishonour.  Her sorrow would be kept in her own heart alone.  She said softly, “I have no secrets Théodred.  Goodnight to you.”

Author’s Note:

Claennis = Purity

Besyrwan = Ensnares

Fyren = Wicked

Eldwyn = Wise Advisor