DEFINING MOMENT

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

TA 3019

Edoras

"Where have you been, Éomer sister's-son?" Théoden looked weakly at Éomer.

Éomer carried his helm under his arm, and his sword was sheathed in its scabbard. He was still sour from the raid, but he had to tell the King.

"I have been to the eaves of Fangorn Forest, and there I made an end of the orcs who came from Emyn Muil."

Wormtongue made a shocked face, then turned his malicious eyes to the king. "Violation," he whispered, and Éomer heard it.

"My lord, Saruman must be stopped," Éomer took a step forward, wishing he could shove Wormtongue away from his uncle. "I had to kill these orcs. What is more, they are Uruks. They are able to travel in daylight. The wizard grows crafty, my lord."

Théoden said nothing. His low moan echoed through the halls.

Éomer hesitated for one moment. It was his duty to tell the King of his doings. "I met the Heir of Isildur. He passed through Lothlorien and the Mines of Moria. He told me that Boromir, son of Denethor, has fallen by the orcs. And Gandalf Greyhame has fallen to darkness as well."

The look on Wormtongue's face was one of joy. How evil was this man? Éomer felt disgust. He'd been in these halls for too long. He couldn't continue to turn a blind on Wormtongue any longer. That man was like a poison. Wormtongue whispered something to Théoden.

"Where is Isildur's Heir now?" Théoden asked.

Éomer looked at the engraved horses on the floors of the Meduseld. "I let him go."

"What?" Wormtongue stood himself. He advanced towards Éomer, his face contorted in rage. He was a short man, and Éomer wanted to punch the lights from his eyes. "You let him, a stranger, wander about freely in Rohan?"

Éomer glared at Wormtongue and said nothing. The guards about the King's pillars looked uneasily at each other. They were Théoden's guard, and if Éomer made any move against Théoden or Wormtongue, they would have to use force on Éomer.

"Do the laws of your country mean nothing to you?" Wormtongue was circling Éomer. Éomer kept an arm behind his back. Should Wormtongue continue to rage, there was no telling what harm Éomer might do him. And Éomer was in a precarious situation already.

"You are a threat to the king, are you not?" Wormtongue's voice was slick poison. "You disobey every single command, and you think yourself loyal to Rohan?"

He spoke nothing more, for Éomer's rage overtook him. Never would any man call him unloyal. He grabbed Wormtongue by the neck and rammed him against a pillar. Wormtongue choked.

"How long has it been since Saruman bought you?" he twisted the fabric around Wormtongue's neck, cutting off his circulation. Wormtongue looked terrified. Gone was the gloating sneer. And as Éomer glared into his dark eyes, he knew he'd hit the truth. Wormtongue was a servant of Saruman.

This was worst trick the wizard could play to them—set up one of his servants in the courts of the king.

"What was the promised price?" his voice broke as he ground Wormtongue's back against the pillar. "When all the men are dead you will take your share of the treasure?"

Wormtongue's eyes strayed to something at his right. There was no treasure in the Meduseld. Surely Wormtongue didn't expect he'd be king! Confused, Éomer turned to look at whatever Wormtongue's eyes had been fixed on.