Ch. 19: Hope

Eówyn drew in the bracing February air in an effort to calm her racing heart. She looked down at the path leading to the main gate and once again saw nothing but emptiness, the ripped pennon blowing away amid the tall grass that grew on the slopes of Edoras. She threw her shoulders back as ever ready to face what duty commanded her to endure but behind the face she knew she must present to the world she was tired, so tired.

Entering the atrium to the Great Hall she saw an almost deserted space, those who had been in attendance departed apparently with haste.  She looked about the atrium of what had been her home for most of her life, Aldburg only a distant memory of childhood, and instead of familiarity she felt a distance that she could not readily explain.  Her mind fled back to the day she arrived in Edoras.  Eight years old clutching her brother’s hand.

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Edoras 3003 TA

Eówyn looked around the Great Hall, tall gilt wooden timbers seemingly flying to the skies above.  She clutched Eowara closer to her chest and gripped Eómer’s hand tighter and felt her brother’s hand respond in reassurance.  She looked up at her brother, “Eómer!  It is so big!” she whispered.

“Aye that it is.” Eómer looked down at his sister and smiled in what he hoped was a confident, reassuring fashion because in truth he felt neither of these emotions but with his father’s words still fresh in his heart he would be her comfort and protection always.

Guthhild chimed in with forced cheerfulness, “Come along must’nt dawdle.”  The attendant Riders who had ridden with them from Aldburg stayed awaiting Deorgar, the king’s Counsel to relieve them of their precious charges.

The chief Rider averred, “Mistress, I do believe we are to wait here for the King’s Counsel for the king did wish to see his niece and nephew the moment they arrived.  We have sent word of our arrival.”

“Yes, or course!  Master Rider! We quite understand!” Guthhild stumbled out and fell silent not wishing to speak out of turn again.  She too was quite awed by her surroundings.

Deorgar appeared seemingly out of nowhere, somewhat round with what appeared to Eówyn’s young eyes to be a jovial look and a smile that seemed incongruous with this grand place she was now standing in.  The King will be here shortly.” He said to the Master Rider who had spoken to Guthhild.  He looked at Eómer and then to Eówyn, “You are most welcome to Meduseld,” he said, Eówyn felt a warmth in his voice and she immediately liked him.

“Thank you!” Eómer said tentatively, unsure just how he was supposed to behave.

Eówyn looked up at the sound of footsteps suddenly hyperaware of her surroundings.  She had always heard stories about her uncle Théoden from her mother, but she had never actually met him.  She looked up into blue eyes filled with kindness that were so like her mother’s that she burst into tears.  She found herself bound up into an all-embracing hug as she poured forth the pain in her young heart.

“Shh!  Sh!  My sweetling!  It will be all be all right!  I will make it right.  You will see.” Her uncle spoke in a big grumbly voice.

***

And he had, until this moment.  Her uncle was a shadow of that bear of a man and this no longer felt like home.  She ran unthinking to the only home she still knew, her brother.   As upset and as jumbled as her thoughts were something inside her made her pause.  Grima.  He was even more dangerous than she had previously suspected.  He had planned this plot against Eómer and had people in place to execute his plan.  She had to be careful, unsure of what his actions would be.  She hated subterfuge in all forms, political subterfuge most of all.  It held no honor in her way of thinking.  She would see her brother though.  She needed to see him.  She would go down to the cells and if the rider on duty was known to her then she would ask to see her brother.  If the rider were unknown to her then she would come back until the guard changed and hope for the best.  For good or ill it was at least a plan; she breathed a sigh feeling better having charted some path.

She knew where the cells were; she had just never had a reason to visit them before.   Still dressed in her Audience finery because she did not want to take the time to change she made her way down.  To her great relief Heruling, one of her old attendants from her weekly visits was on guard.  

She entered the cell corridor and approached the Rider greeting him, “Heruling.”

“Oh my lady! So good it is to see you!”

“And I you.  How goes the apprenticeship in the Eored?” she asked.  He had just been appointed in the new year to apprentice standing with the Muster of Edoras.

“It was well my Lady until…” pained earnest blue eyes sought hers. “Oh my lady…why is my lord Eómer in these cells…and why have I been told to deny access to all that might seek him?”

Eówyn paused and pondered how quickly Grima had changed things.  “What have you been told, Heruling?”

“That he is a traitor to our Eored and to Théoden King!  But my lady,” Heruling added quickly, “I cannot believe that!  My lord Eómer would never do such a thing!”  He spoke fervently.

Eówyn smiled at his earnestness, “You are right, Heruling.  He would not.  But there are forces holding sway here that do not bring honor to the Mark.  But I must ask you not to voice your opinions in this matter.  At least not yet.  We will need to wait to put things right.  And right them we will.  I just do not know how yet.  Now I know you have your orders, but I must speak with my brother.”

“Or course my lady,” Heruling immediately complied, “My duty is always yours to name.”

“Many thanks, Heruling,” Eówyn said inclining her head and wondering how she managed to inspire such loyalty.

As she approached the cell she could hear Eómer pacing furiously, like a caged animal yearning to pounce. “Eómer!”  she whispered as loudly as she dared.  She trusted Heruling completely, but she could not know who else might come near to the cells.

The pacing immediately stopped.  She came into view of the front of the cell.

“Sister! What are you doing down here?” Eómer asked incredulously.

“Coming to see you, of course!”

“Aye!  But is it not dangerous!”

“Be that as it may, I needed to see you!”

Eómer gave her a look that said he would like to take her to task for putting herself in harm’s way for him, but he swallowed any such caustic retort knowing it would do no good with his headstrong sister. Instead, simple inquiry, “What happens?”

“I do not know.  I do not wish to put myself in Grima’s company to find out.”  Eówyn paused meaningfully.  “But I can tell you this.  Grima has laid orders that you are not to be spoken to.”

“Then how did you…?”

Eówyn shrugged, “Apparently Uncle had always chosen my weekly attendants very carefully.  Heruling let me through.”

Eómer stared at his sister knowing that she did not realise her own ability to inspire those she was close to.  “You should go!  I trust Heruling but others like the ones who hauled me away, it pains me to say this of any Rider, but I fear they will not make the same choice.”

“But—”

“Go!  What can you do down here that will not land you down here with me!” Blue eyes snapped with anguish and anger in equal measure.

Eówyn started to voice a rebuttal but stopped, realizing that Eómer was right.  She put her hand through the long bar slats pressing until she could feel his fingertips meet hers.

Eómer stared at her; his eyes full of frustration and torment that he could not protect her from behind cell bars.  “My sister, be safe! Do not take unnecessary risks!” he plead, knowing her nature.

“Who is to say what risks are necessary or unnecessary in such times as these.” She stated rationally.  “I will do as I must to protect what I love.”  She gave him one last anguished look before she departed the cells.

Ascending from the depth of the cells Eówyn’s heart was heavy.  She knew she must do something, but she did not even know where to begin.  Straight forward action had always served as her NorthStar, but she knew that approach would not work.  Grima had so muddied the waters that it seemed that subterfuge was her only path. Anger flared that it had come to this for it was not her way.  But for the present moment she needed rest, the energy that had carried her through much of the day had ebbed away and she was mentally and emotionally exhausted.  She barely made it to her bower but Waerith had fight to get her to take a morsel of food and drink and needed to convince her that sleeping in her court finery was not the best notion she had ever had.

The next morning she awoke early having had a fitful sleep.  She could not bear to think of the night that Eómer had spent.  She longed to slip in to see him again, but he was right to tell her to stay away and as much as she hated to shy away from danger there was wisdom in biding her time.  And besides she could not be certain that today’s guard of the cells would be as compliant as Heruling.  Yesterday she had been lucky.  But still she needed to think about everything that happened the past few days and she always thought better out under the skies riding Lightning, a get from her dear Wildefyr.  Dressing quickly before Waerith was about and would try to talk her out of a morning ride Eówyn slipped into a simple gown of pastel yellow, leggings and boots.  She left her night braid in place and made for the door.

Out past the back gate she trotted Lightning until she was on a good footing for a gallop and then she just let Lightning have her head.  A loud whoop was heard only by the wind and the waving grass; girl and horse alone in nature.  Eówyn felt better than she had in many a day, but she knew she could not stay out for long. Reluctantly she turned back to Edoras.  As she was currying Lightning she heard a call of “My lady!” Eówyn shook herself from her pleasant musings to see Waerith coming upon her.

“I am here as you see.” Eówyn spoke, somewhat nonplussed by Waerith’s apparent and altogether unusual fluster.

“You are sent for,” Waerith stated without preamble, eyes full of apprehension.

“By whom?” Eówyn asked, her hard-achieved equilibrium destroyed with those four words.  A pit of dread in her stomach replacing calm as she awaited the response.

 “Grima,” came the reluctant answer to which was added, “In the Great Hall…there is to be an audience.”  Eówyn looked at Waerith in puzzled inquiry. “I know nothing more, my lady but you best hurry, I have been looking for you for many minutes already…”  Her voice trailed off.

Point taken, Eówyn gave her longtime lady-in-waiting a resigned half-smile, “I shall attend, Waerith. Thank you.”  She handed the curry brush to Hrogar the young stable boy asking him to finish currying Lightning.  Hrogar nodding enthusiastically and grabbed the brush from Eówyn’s reluctant hand.  Once again Eówyn found herself wishing she was only a carefree stable boy and not who she was, niece to the King with all its attendant duties and current tragedies.

Having quickly donned court finery once again Eówyn’s mind was racing as she made her way toward the Great Hall.  So many emotions and so many happenings had taken place within the space of just so many days. She reached the side entrance to the Hall and all thoughts and emotions stopped as she spotted Grima on the other side of the small archway to the Hall.  He looked to the entrance way upon hearing an approach.  They caught eyes and Eówyn felt herself grow cold under his gaze.  She straightened her shoulders with effort and entered the Great Hall determined to avoid Grima’s gaze which she could feel trained upon her.

Her uncle was seated upon the throne.  Eówyn knelt at his side, “I have come my king!  What is your will?” Her uncle looked upon her vacantly and Eówyn once again felt despair pierce her heart like a dagger.  A voice behind her drove the dagger further in.

“He wishes you to attend him, so I had you sent for.” Grima’s now-not-so-unctuous voice said.

Eówyn drew a steadying breath and kissed her uncle’s gnarled hand and stood behind the throne to one side, “I shall do my duty to my uncle.” She spoke in a quiet controlled voice still avoiding Grima’s gaze. She felt the brief threat of a hand upon her shoulder drop as Hama, the Door Warden, rapped his staff on the ground to announce the entrance of the supplicants wishing the king’s counsel.  Grima scurried to the other side of the throne as Eówyn looked upon the first supplicant. She was shocked to it was Gandalf who she had always held in affection for he always seemed to see her as herself not as her uncle’s niece or Eómer’s sister, which she valued beyond jewels. It was curious he was treated as a common suppliant and not the honored guest as usual befitted his visits.  But she realized to her dismay that this was Grima’s influence.  She inwardly cried at the unwelcome changes coming so swiftly.  

To Gandalf’s side was a man who drew her eyes like a magnet.  Tall, stern and clad in grey, the man held Eówyn’s attention as the party walked up the center aisle.  As they drew nearer, she was surprised to see a gentleness in the man’s grey eyes and yet another emotion she pondered upon unrecognized until it dawned upon her.  It was hope and with it curiously but not incongruously a feeling of latent power that she would not have suspected from one clad so inauspiciously.  So long it had been since she had felt anything much beyond duty and despair.  She could not look away from him, oblivious to all else.  The man noticed her gaze and nodded slightly with a respectful smile.  It broke the spell and embarrassed she tried to return her attention to what was being said.  Still though, her heartbeat continued wildly until she saw Gandalf gesture; a flash of lightning and Grima was suddenly in a crumbled heap at the throne’s foot.

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