Fearful dreams

[Grima Wormtongue]

It was a cold, windy morning today. Frost lay in a thin layer upon the grass, the stones, and the roofs of the houses below. Even such a large city as Edoras was quiet at this hour. The sun had not yet emerged over the eastern horizon; the only sign that it was coming up at all was the line of light blue that rolled over the hills like a layer of ice. Here it was still quite dark, and to the west the sky was black, a few straggling stars visible near the horizon. It was somewhat unusual for Grima to be up so early. Normally he awoke after the sun rose, matching his schedule roughly with King Theoden's. However, something had bothered him this day. He'd had the nightmare again.

This time, it had been less detailed, but it frightened Grima no less than it had the night before last. The barren wasteland, the armored man, the volcano... And that Eye. That Eye was the thing that terrified Grima the most. The way it looked at him, almost staring through him, as though it could read his every thought.

The counsellor's heart was still beating quickly, his face even paler than usual and his movements a bit twitchy, as though every little sound startled him. Grima had been standing here on the balcony for the past half hour, possibly more, willing the images in his mind to go away, but they wouldn't stop replaying themselves. Removing a hand from his outer cloak, Grima brushed a few strands of black hair away from his eyes and behind one ear, but the effort was useless. The wind had been whipping about the balcony for hours, and wasn't about to let up any time soon or leave Grima alone.

Perhaps fortunately, it seemed that everyone else was leaving the counsellor alone as well. Grima knew very well that there were always a few people up no matter what time of day or night it was, but he had not seen any of them since his own screams had awoken him yet again. They seemed to be avoiding the hallway where his bedchamber was of late. Well good for them. Less bother for him.

The flag hung a ways above the door to the balcony snapped in the wind, and Grima started, taking in a short, sharp gasp before he turned his head and realized what the sound was. With a slight sigh, Grima turned back to watch the slowly lightening horizon once more. He hoped Theoden slept in late this morning. Grima did not feel like following him about and telling him what to do in all tiny matters throughout the day today.

A noise came from behind Grima again, and even though he had just done so a moment ago, Grima started slightly, glancing back at the flag automatically. However, it was stuck to the wall by the sudden blast of shifting wind. Grima's grey eyes turned instead to the doorway, where he now realized the sound had come from. Apparently there was someone up after all.

[eowyn]

She couldn't sleep. But truly, this wasn't a surprise in the slightest. She hadn't been able to sleep in months. Everything was crumbling around her and the walls just seemed to be closing in. It was as if the decay of her uncle was only symbolic for the decay of all of Rohan that she had ever loved.

No, of course Eowyn could not sleep. She haunted the corridors of the Golden Hall every night, not knowing what else she could do. This feeling of helplessness was the absolute most sickening thing she had ever experienced, really. She just had to watch all of this decay occur, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Eowyn could only watch as her world crumbled. And it was enough to drive her mad.

Her recurring dream, or perhaps it was a nightmare, did nothing to help matters. She was a bird, a beautiful songbird with strong wings that were meant for flying. However, she was locked up in a cage and no amount of pecking or flapping would release her. Theoden sat next to her, and she did her best to sing for the king, but he would never respond to her attempts. His adviser, Grima Wormtongue, gave the Eowyn bird more than enough attention. He would reach into the cage to stroke her feathers, but his touch chilled her to the core and turned whatever he touched black.

She would always awake just as the Eowyn bird resigned herself to a fate of captivity and huddled down in the far corner of the cage, preparing herself for death, hoping that it would come sooner rather than later.

Eowyn was not sure which element of the dream frightened her the most, the cage or her acceptance of it.

She knew not where her feet were taking her, but she simply let them lead as she gnawed on her lip, completely oblivious to her surroundings. She only knew that she was trapped in a cage now, and she direly needed to find a way to free herself, before the sadness and hopelessness which were her daily and only companions reigned supreme over her.

[Grima Wormtongue]

For a moment, Grima's eyes searched the darkness of the archway without seeing anything, then he spotted a feminine figure moving towards the balcony where he stood. Grima did not turn around fully until the figure showed itself to be none other than the neice of King Theoden, Eowyn. Grima's eyes appeared exceptionally dark in this light, especially given the shadow that his heavy brows threw over them, and the dark turquoise nearly matched the shade of the sky overhead this early morning. These eyes looked at Eowyn, taking in both face and figure in a glance that did not seem rushed.

"Good morning, Eowyn." he spoke softly, nodding his head towards her slightly. His eyes however, never left her face even though his head turned down. For once, his greasy-looking hair did not hang like spiderwebs in his face. The wind was strong enough that it kept the strands blowing rather wildly about his head, but they never stayed in his face for long.

His expression changed then, brows drawing together slightly as he pulled his robe tigher about his thin body. Eowyn did not appear well. His expression was worried as he spoke, "Is something the matter?" he asked, voice tinged with worry and care. "You do not appear well. Are you unwell?"

Inwardly, his heart both rejoiced(if Grima was truly capable of such a feeling) and fell at seeing her. He knew all too well how much the princess hated him, loathed him even. She acted that way, at least. There had been times when she had come close to trusting him, a couple far-between circumstances where she had recognized that he understood her at least in part. Always though, she had rebuked him. Grima's understanding of her was not returned, and Grima could not comprehend why.

This was why he waited for a moment where Eowyn was weak to approach her. Why he followed her and waited for her loneliness to nearly consume her before he came close. It was only then that she would listen to him, and only for a minute even at those times. Still, he remained her shadow. That was all he ever was, really. A shadow. A shadow behind Eowyn, a shadow behind Theoden's throne, a shadow behind the White Wizard... Grima wondered if he was really anything but a shadow, someone who didn't really exist.

A now-familiar tingle of cold ran up Grima's spine, but it didn't come from the chill morning air. The sadness, bitterness, and loneliness that caused this was shown partially behind the mask of compassion he wore. It lasted but a moment before it was covered up once again by his disguise.

ooc| Tangent alert, tangent alert...

[eowyn]

Eowyn heard Grima's voice. Clenching her jaw, she glanced his way, straining to keep her countenance strong. She wanted to hate him, to loathe him with every fiber of her being. And she always could when she watched him stand behind her uncle, poisoning him, turning a great man into nothing more than a shell. But when she was out of the Great Hall, she could feel her resolve weaken. Theodred was dead, Eomer was off fighting with his Rohirrim. Eowyn was in Edoras with her crumbling king. She was so terribly alone.

She had tried hard to convince herself that she needed nobody but herself. She was strong and intelligent, was she not? But that plan had failed. Her nights were so silent, so cold, so deadening. The isolation was slowly and painfully killing her. Eowyn needed someone to talk with, someone who could understand with her, who could sympathize with her.

Grima could. He paid attention to her. Yes, he followed her around, and she was well aware of it. Eowyn knew that such attention was supposed to disgust her. And it used to when she had Eomer around to question Grima's glances and footsteps. And it still did to some extent, but Eowyn simply needed someone to confirm that life was still in the blood flowing through her veins, that she was dead like everyone else in Edoras.

Yes, Eowyn could muster up enough disdain in her voice and eyes to keep Grima at a distance most of the time. She could do it now, she was sure. She could play that she could survive in this solitary confinement, like the bird in her dream trapped in the cage. She could understand why the bird Eowyn let Grima stroke her feathers, though.

Is something the matter? Eowyn could have laughed at the irony of Grima's question. It seemed like absolutely everything was the matter.

"I am quite well, thank you," Eowyn lied in a hushed tone, pushing any emotions out of her cold voice. "I simply could not sleep."

[Grima Wormtongue]

Grima suppressed an almost eager expression as Eowyn turned her gaze on him. Her expression was controlled and chill, as though she had to exercise considerable self-control in order to keep from either slapping him across the face(as she had done on more than one occasion previously) or storming off the balcony back into the castle.

It made a tingle run through Grima's body, from head to toe.

Eowyn appeared strong. Grima could sense her resolve as though she'd told him that she was determined to remain aloof to his attentions. In many ways, she had. But it did not make Grima give up. But her resolve had weakened of late, especially after the news of Theodred's death reached Edoras... And now that Eomer was away. Grima had hated it when Eomer was around. He had always been there to send Grima away when Eowyn began to break down her defenses, and he had threatened Grima when no one else was around(or at least when Eowyn was not around).

But had Grima not won? Surely he must have, for Eomer was now away, far away absorbed in battle, and Grima was in Edoras. He may as well have been alone with Eowyn for all the protection she had left. Still, Grima too-often felt as though there was something left, as though something was wrong, and everything he had here could come crumbling down around him at any moment. It was a very unsettling feeling, but Grima blamed it on his fear of Saruman... Fear, and more than a tinge of dislike for the power that the White Wizard held over him.

"I am quite well, thank you," Eowyn lied in a hushed tone, pushing any emotions out of her cold voice. "I simply could not sleep."

Another shiver ran through Grima at the sound of that voice. He heard her dislike within it, and Grima wished that he had some power to push that dislike away, if only for a little while. But if he did, wouldn't she just hate him all the more for it? No, gaining her trust was certainly better. He had broken down the will of one so great at King Theoden... Certainly he could make a young woman trust him?

"Troubled minds don't sleep through the night, Eowyn..." Grima said, in a tone equally soft as before. She could be as cold as she wished towards him, but Grima was determined to show no aggression towards Eowyn. He took the smallest of steps towards her, his expression showing only the deepest of care and concern.

"You can talk to me, Eowyn." he whispered, his voice scarcely carrying over the rushing wind. "I'll listen." He emphasized that last part. He knew that Eowyn was lonely. She needed someone to talk to, someone who understood her. Grima would make sure that he was there when she finally did break down. He would be the one to comfort her, and perhaps she would love him for it.

[eowyn]

She watched as Grima took a few steps toward her. Eowyn had to remind herself that she was supposed to move away from him. She matched his steps in the opposite direction as an almost afterthought.

It was a farce, she thought, a complete farce. Her playing such a cold, heartless, emotionless being... it was laughable. She had always been the girl filled with so much life, so much happiness, prepared to accomplish anything that anyone believed she could not do and to accomplish it far beyond anyone's expectations.

Now she was here, pretending to be as one dead, pretending that she didn't need anyone else to continue on with her life. How did it come to this?

Eowyn suppressed a shiver as she looked into Grima's eyes and found the care and concern he planted there for her. It was so deeply unnerving. Eowyn hated feeling so unsure of what she was supposed to do. And she hated Grima for looking so sympathetic when she felt so vulnerable. She couldn't help but to feel that she was slowly walking further and further into a trap and that soon she would be past the point of no return.

She should get back to bed, back to her cold, dark, lonely room. But she simply could not move. Her feet were stuck in place and her eyes weren't moving from Grima's face. She could feel his words flowing through her veins. You can talk to me, Eowyn. I'll listen. She had thought that her uncle must have been weak to allow himself to be so overtaken by this man in front of her, but now she fully understood. Grima somehow knew just what she needed so desperately to hear from anybody, and he voiced it. She needed to hate him, but she just simply could not.

What did he want with her? Why should he show such kindness to her in a house that refused to acknowledge that she was still alive? Part of her knew that those were easy questions to answer. She was the only woman in the house. Eomer was most likely right; lust goaded Grima's slow advances.

But. There was most definitely a but. Something just seemed wrong with that. Perhaps it was something else that Grima was after. Perhaps...

Eowyn physically shook herself. She could not venture down that path of thought. It could led nowhere positive. She would be the good sister and the loyal niece and shield maiden and she would heed her brother's advice about Grima and... and she would crumble in her loneliness and despair. She would shun the one person who was trying to understand her who apparently wanted to comfort her.

This confusion and heartache and confinement was simply too much for Eowyn to bear. Before she could stop it, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

[Grima Wormtongue]

Grima advanced his steps towards Eowyn only twice. She matched his steps backward, but he noted the instant of hesitation, as though she was reluctant to retreat from him. He did not press onward, lest she feel as though she was being backed into a corner and flee from him. So Grima stayed his steps, allowing Eowyn what space she wanted.

Grima almost glanced away from Eowyn as the flag above snapped in the wind, but he held her gaze, staring just as deeply into her eyes as she did into his. He knew that probing look, knew it well. Eowyn's own eyes showed a shadow of uncertainty, one which he had noticed had appeared with an increasing frequency in these past few months. He also saw - or perhaps he sensed it some other way - something resembling fear. Not of him... Not directly anyway. No, Grima was certain that Eowyn did not fear him. But what exactly it was that the princess was afraid of, he could not tell.

Her expression grew to one of questioning. Not overtly, but not quite subtle enough to avoid Grima's eyes. He was, after all, adept at sensing the feelings of others. Some suggested he even had some sort of power to read minds. It was nonsense. Grima possessed no mystical abilities of any kind. He had simply learned to 'read' other people, almost as though their thoughts and current emotions were written on their foreheads.

Eowyn had answered her question, Grima saw it, and he guessed by the subtle down-turning of her mouth(which she may not even have been aware of) that the answer had something to do with him... Nothing good, most likely. Ah, but there was the uncertainty again. Uncertainty and doubt...

Grima allowed himself the smallest of smiles as Eowyn took her eyes away from his, shaking herself as though trying to rid her mind of something unwanted. What that something was required no exceptional insight to guess. Without being able to look her in the eye, Grima could tell less about her, but he saw a fleeting determination before a return to sadness, and even despair.

Taking three slow, steady steps(or as steady as he could with the wind buffeting him so), Grima approached Eowyn. He began to reach out a hand towards her, but stopped just short of touching her arm. A tear rolled down Eowyn's cheek, and Grima felt a very peculiar sensation that seemed to affect both his heart and lungs. It felt like an ache, and for a moment, Grima found himself unable to draw breath.

"Eowyn..." he began, leaving his hand hovering just over her arm. His touch, if unwanted, was likely to turn her away and make her leave him.

"Eowyn, don't distance yourself from me." Grima said, softly. His voice was just above a whisper, but he knew that Eowyn heard every syllable. "I want to understand you." He wanted to say more, but Grima held his tongue in check. Gently, he reached up and brushed the tear away from her cheek. His fingers were cold as ice, but his touch was so gentle that it could barely be felt apart from the slight chill.

[eowyn]

Eowyn froze and silently cursed that single tear. That tear which allowed the opportunity for Grima to reach out to her. That tear which opened the door for Grima to gently touch her face. That tear which made her unable to recoil from him.

She inhaled sharply. His fingers were so cold, and shivers ran down Eowyn's spine. She was a living contradiction for hating Grima for pursuing her so, for his reaching out to her when she was so lost, and yet she loved that someone was here to dry her tears. She wanted to scream, to pound her fist against the wall until everything righted itself and it became clear what she was supposed to do and feel. She hated herself more than she had ever hated him.

"You want to understand me?" she asked; her voice seemed to ring through her head too loudly yet she was sure it was little more than a whisper. Grima should have an interesting time of that. She did not even understand herself. She choked back a bitter laugh. No one attempted to understand her. No one attempted to acknowledge her existence. She was alone in her cage, yet Grima claimed that he wanted to understand her.

She focused her intense blue gaze upon Grima's face.

"Why?"

[Grima Wormtongue]

He could see it. In her eyes and her face, though she didn't meet his gaze. He saw self-loathing(an expression he had grown familiar with over the numerous times he'd looked in a mirror), he saw confusion, and he saw... He saw something he had not seen in a long time coming from anyone in Edoras. He saw happiness. For an instant, his heart soared.

Quickly though, Grima brought himself back to earth and back to his own deeply-hidden self-doubt. There was no apparent reason why her happiness should have been directed towards him. Furthermore, he felt the slight tremor as she shivered at his touch. His expression unfathomable, Grima withdrew his hand, but slowly.

"You want to understand me?"

Grima nearly bit his lip in anticipation. He could tell that she had something else to say. But her question, combined with the sudden intense stare, caught him completely and utterly off guard.

"Why?"

Such a simple question, and yet it sent Grima reeling, his ordinarily silvered tongue suddenly seeming caught. One word, but one that gave a question which he did not truly know the answer to. Certainly, he could spin lies. He could spin lies within lies and layer those upon still intertwined lies. But that stare stopped him.

For several moments, it was he who was caught. He who had held so many in his power previously through the intensity of his own gaze. Now though, he hesitated. He was barely even thinking actually. Lies did not come to him as they often did in times when he was uncomfortable with a situation.

Grima hesitated, uncertainty painted almost plainly on his face for the quite possibly the first time since he'd arrived in Edoras years ago.

[eowyn]

He was silent. Dead silent. It was as if Grima had lost his footing. He had no reply, no pretty story for her to listen to. He had no easy answer for her to swallow.

Eowyn felt it built up in her gut and work its way up through her throat. She could have stopped it if she wished. Eowyn almost always had immaculate control over her own words and actions. However, she did not stop it. Eowyn threw back her head and laughed.

The sound from her laughing reverberated off of the walls. She knew that this must be startling Grima, to put it gently, but Eowyn did not care in the slightest. With that cold, crazy laugh Eowyn felt as if she had regained control, leaving Grima scrambling now. His weakness gave her the strength which she so desperately needed.

"What? No answer?" Her mouth was smiling, but her gaze was frigid. "You truly want to understand me? Let us start with my laughing."

Now it was she who was advancing. She took a few steps toward Grima, her eyes blazing intensely. "I can admit it now. I laughed because you had me under your spell, Grima. I have been so alone for so long. I would have eaten up any response from you. Absolutely anything."

She tilted her head slightly. "And yet, you completely lost me in your silence. Your tongue, which has served you so admirably in your dealings with my uncle, has failed you! It is your loss entirely."

She spun away from him, her skirts rustling, triumph flitting across her face. She silently promised herself to avoid Grima at all costs from this point forward. Something slight was still nagging at her, though. Eowyn dismissed it as she began to walk away.

[Grima Wormtongue]

For a moment, Grima thought that he could regain the influence he had held with Eowyn, thought that he could somehow gain back the ground that he had lost. Her expression though, that determination in her eyes... It was the same look she gave him when Eomer stood between the shield maiden and the counsellor. Grima hated that expression, hated it and everything it meant. He could practically see Eomer standing beside Eowyn now, something which made him want to hurt the man. His anger lasted only a brief moment though. It soon dissolved into uncertainty in the face of that stare.

He jumped, almost literally, as Eowyn suddenly laughed. Not a normal laugh either, not any mere chuckle. No, she threw back her head, and the sound of that mocking laughter reverberated off of the stone walls to echo back at Grima, as though ten Eowyns were mocking him. His mouth opened slightly, eyes widening just a little in surprise. Certainly he had never heard such a sound from her, and it caught him completely off guard. When Eowyn suddenly snapped her gaze back to Grima, he unconsciously took a small step back, wanting more than anything else at that moment to be far away, possibly on the hills to the east - no, the west. There was no light there yet.

"What? No answer?" Her mouth was smiling, but her gaze was frigid. "You truly want to understand me? Let us start with my laughing."

Grima could think of no reply, did not try to think of one. As Eowyn advanced on him, he matched her steps in a mirror image of the movements the two of them had just made. Now it was he who retreated, and not she. Now it was he who was uncertain, not knowing what she would do. He doubted that Eowyn had ever feared him, and he was not exactly afraid of Eowyn herself, but that gaze, that ice-cold glare, set him back on his heels, giving ground with her every step towards him.

"I can admit it now. I laughed because you had me under your spell, Grima. I have been so alone for so long. I would have eaten up any response from you. Absolutely anything. And yet, you completely lost me in your silence. Your tongue, which has served you so admirably in your dealings with my uncle, has failed you! It is your loss entirely."

No sound came from Grima in reply. He doubted whether he would have been able to say anything even if something did enter his mind. Eowyn's eyes, they held him as he knew he had held her before. He tried to step backward again, but the railing of the balcony was closer to his back than he thought, and instead he clutched at it, white-knuckled, as Eowyn's eyes bored into him.

Indeed, it was his loss entirely. Eowyn certainly felt no remorse whatsoever for her sharp-tongued speech. No, it was Grima's loss, and he knew that very well, knew it perfectly as Eowyn spun about, leaving him on the balcony, the sun rising behind his back and the cold wind whipping about his face and chilling his nearly emaciated body. After what seemed like an eternity, Grima turned around, putting his back to the door that Eowyn had just stepped through, and turned his gaze eastward, towards the rising sun. It didn't seem fitting that he should stand outside staring into the sun. He felt very exposed then, and turned his back to the sun as well, crossing the balcony to watch the darkness shrink back over the horizon.