Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire.

Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire. Part Four

The morning sunlight began to illuminate the darkened room, warming the stale air and casting a soothing glow across the dense wooden walls of (Y/N)s chambers. The girl stretched her arms across the bed and sat up in a state of sedation, finding herself having to peel away the thin cotton sheet that had replaced the thick furs during the heat of the night. Once (Y/N) was up and had rubbed at her eyes to clear her vision, she tossed the old rickety wooden shutters open, letting the gentle scent of the surrounding wheat fields drift in on the delicate morning breeze, and then grabbed at a clean pile of clothes that were tucked away in the small chest that sat by the foot of the bed. It was half way through getting dressed that a loud, harsh knocking rang out from the door of her room, making the poor girl jump with fright as a small gasp managed to escape from her chest. Every second that it was not answered, the knocking became louder and louder, earning disgruntled moans from anyone who was still sleeping in the surrounding bedrooms crammed along the servants corridor. 

"Hurry up!" spat a slimy voice on the other side of the wood, tutting in disgust when the maid flung it open wildly, looking dishevelled and in a state of panic.

"Gríma?! What is it? What do yo want??" (Y/N) spoke with a thick venom in her tone, with a dislike that ran so deep that the devious little man faltered for a moment before he squeaked out an answer.

"Your duties for today have changed at the request of the king-" Wormtongue shot out a calculating smirk as he quickly gained back his confidence, thriving on the pure discomfort that was evident between the two of them being near each other. "-You will now be cleaning the cellar, and it will need to be spotless. No breaks."

(Y/N) smiled sweetly, not allowing the bitter hatred that was rumbling its way through her body to show itself. She certainly did not want to hand over any satisfaction to Gríma. "Oh thank goodness, it does seem like it will be another hot day. The coolness of the cellar is exactly what I need! Please, do pass on my gratitude."

The diminutive man suddenly dropped his sickly grin as she spat out her words, stepping forward menacingly to inch slowly closer to the young maid with an outstretched palm. "The rats will need to be taken care of, the whole room scrubbed from top to bottom, it will take you until dark...and you do not stop until then, are we clear? I will be watching." Gríma hissed and jabbed a stubby finger in her direction.

"But, however will you find the time to keep an eye on my work, what with following that young princess around all day, along with whispering sweet nothings into the ear of the king?...You are a busy snake-" (Y/N) taunted Wormtongue, who had finally come to be standing directly in front of her while hissing out a threatening snarl. Without warning, he drew back his chest and spat at her feet, grimacing as he looked her over with a distasteful eye.

"When the day comes, I will enjoy getting rid of you most of all..." Gríma jeered before loosing his grip on his volatile temper, suddenly lunging towards the girl as his greasy hair flew behind him manically, his fingers grasping for the tanned skin of her throat. Fortunately, a stern voice echoed steadily across the commotion, causing Wormtongue to come to a still as he towered over the maid, who was now scrambling on the floor to get back on her feet. 

"And until then, you bastard, you will get down on your knees and wipe up that mess you have made, foul beast." Éowyn had unexpectedly burst into the room, her face flustered and contorted into a snarl.

"My lady...I swear to you...You did not hear what she was saying..." Gríma glanced back at the princess in horror, tears swimming in his eyes.

"I heard enough-" The young royal barked, tossing a handkerchief into his dirty hands. "-Now, clean it."