Sword Maiden of Rohan | Of Every Race Saga Book IV

Chapter 16: Wings of Doom

Déorhild stepped lightly down the corridor, holding the sides of her cloak closed against the cold. She heard the sounds of horses and looked down to see Éomer and his men enter, a body draped over one of their steeds. Hurrying, she ran back and opened a door into a hall way leading into the Golden Hall. Crossing the large, mostly empty room save for Gríma and Théoden at the throne, she opened a door opposite and continued walking till she arrived at a small room that overlooked the valley and mountains. "Éowyn!" she called to the woman bent over an old tapestry. "Your brother's returned," she continued once Éowyn looked up.

"And Théodred?"

"I don't know. I just saw them enter the court and then came to tell you."

"Thank you," she replied, rising and retracing Déorhild's steps to the courtyard, Déorhild following.

When they entered the courtyard, however, it was mostly empty, the last few horses being led away to the stables while the men who rode on them were walking down to their homes or to the great kitchens of the Golden Hall. Undeterred, Éowyn walked up to one and demanded, "Where is my brother?"

The man turned around and pointed up the way she had come. "He went up there, through the main entrance."

"Why there?" she questioned quickly as the man turned away.

"I don't know. He was carrying Théodred's body with him." The man walked away with the others, leaving Éowyn and Déorhild standing still, stunned.

"Why carrying his body?" Déorhild asked, not expecting an answer nor receiving one.

Éowyn picked up her skirts and hurried across the courtyard to the front, running up the stairs, Déorhild on her heels. She tore through the entrance and into the hall, turning sharply to the left and running a short ways down a corridor to an open door. Éowyn paused momentarily before running inside, calling out, "Théodred!"

Déorhild saw her run to the bed in the dim room where her cousin's body lay. Éomer, still fully dressed in chainmail and leather armor, as was his cousin also, sat by the bed. Déorhild stayed in the doorway, watching in silence.

Éowyn touched her cousin's face which Déorhild could see was dark with dried blood. Éomer nodded his head in direction of Théodred's torso. His sister looked, pulling back the torn and bloody clothing. She recoiled from the sight, turning away in grief and slight disgust. Her gaze met her brother's gaze and Déorhild could see sorrow in their glances. She stepped back, feeling no part in this. Together, the brother and sister exited the room, heading for the throne room, Déorhild following in the shadows.

The Golden Hall was dim, the faint light dancing with the dust motes in the air. Théoden, indeed looking sick and old, stared, as if dead, into nothing. He did not see his niece on her knees before him as she gently said his name. "Your son is badly wounded, my lord." Her voice was soft and Déorhild had to strain her ears to hear it from her hiding place behind one of the pillars as she watched from among the shadows.

Éomer stood on the left side of his sister, standing. "He was ambushed by Orcs.If we don't defend our country,Saruman will take it by force," his tone was more forceful and... Pained.

The king showed absolutely no reaction, as if he had not heard. There was a slight scuffling noise and Gríma appeared from behind the throne, slumped in his posture, his appearance, as always seemed to Déorhild, to be soaking wet like a frog. "That is a lie. Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally," he said in a smooth yet sinister tone. Déorhild felt a chill go down her back.

Théoden turned to his evil advisor and murmured repeatedly, "Gríma. Gríma... Gríma..."

Déorhild could feel the brother and sister's frustration. "Orcs are roaming freely across our lands. Unchecked. Unchallenged. Killing at will. Orcs bearing the White Hand of Saruman," Éomer dropped an orc helmet onto the ground at the King's feet. A white handprint was on the top of it.