On the Wings of the Storm

Chapter 11

With a bow Wulfstan opened the door to King Théoden's rooms and held it open for me. "If you please, my lady."

Hesitantly, I crossed the threshold. A soft thud behind me marked the door closing. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw that the room was deserted, the king's chair standing empty. The fire in the grate had burnt down to embers, but as before, the air was stifling hot. What could King Théoden possibly want from me at this hour? Or had I been called at Wormtongue's instigation? I told myself that surely there wasn't anything he could do to me in the king's own quarters, but the thought held little comfort. My slippers sank into the thick furs as I advanced a few more steps, and feeling unsteady on my feet, I stopped.

The door to the king's bedroom opened, and Gríma emerged. "Ah, Lady Lothíriel," he greeted me, "how kind of you to come so promptly. I hope the summons did not inconvenience you?"

He too let his glance linger on my body, making me feel exposed in my low cut dress. "Not at all," I replied, lifting my chin. "The king has asked to see me?"

"Yes, he has."

However, the councillor did not elaborate, but instead crossed over to a low table that held glasses and a decanter filled with red wine. His back to me, he poured two glasses. He offered me one, but I declined with a polite smile. Not even my good manners could make me accept a drink from his hand.

Gríma took a small sip. "King Théoden is worried about you," he stated.

"Worried!" I could not believe the king had uttered any such sentiment, dazed as he had been all evening. What did Gríma mean to accomplish by that statement? My headache worsened.

"The king feels he stands in a father's stead to you, for you are a member of his household," the councillor explained in such a soft voice that I had to lean forward to catch his words. In the gloom his eyes glittered deepest black, like splinters of obsidian. The only thing alive in his bloodless face, they seemed to exude a strange power, drawing me towards him. I blinked to clear my mind, but was unable to look away.

He took a step forward. "King Théoden is worried you might have been led astray."

Nonsense, I wanted to say, but somehow my tongue refused to form the word. The room was so quiet that I could sense the slow, rhythmic pulse of my heart. Not even a muffled sound reached us from the corridor, as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

"You are so young," Gríma said with a kind smile, "and far away from your father's protection and guidance. Unfortunately there are those who would take advantage of your situation."

Under his steady gaze I felt my will eroding. I meant to protest that I was perfectly able to look after myself, but could not formulate a coherent sentence. A strange lassitude had spread through me. I wanted to rub my eyes to clear it away, but could not lift my arm, all my limbs felt heavy as lead. How stifling the air was.

He took my hand and caressed it with slow, mesmerizing strokes. "Sadly, some men make a sport of preying on inexperienced maidens like you. They take their pleasure and then abandon them to find a fresh victim."

Looking into Gríma's dark eyes, I found myself nodding agreement. In some weird, convoluted way his argumentation made perfect sense. He was right: I had been reckless earlier on and had not behaved in a way my father would approve of. Perhaps I had really let myself be led astray. "Yes," I whispered. Just saying that single word took an effort.

Gríma smiled his approbation at me. "I knew you'd come to see it my way." He continued to massage my hand. "What you need, my pretty princess, is a protector."