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In the Dungeon


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Disclaimer: Don't own Eomer or any other LOTR character mentioned in this fic. I'm just using them to entertain you guys out there, so there's no money making in here.

Rating: G

Character: Eomer

Summary: Eomer's been thrown in the dungeons of Meduseld after having disobeyed Theodens orders. (See, LOTR: TTT, chapter: King of the Golden Hall)

He sits in the dungeon and ponders about what's happening to his world.



In the Dungeon


Darkness. Everywhere around me is darkness. Who would have ever thought the dungeons of the Golden Hall would be so dark? I smirk sadly at the next thought. Who would have thought the Third Marshall of the Riddermark would end up in the dungeons of the Golden Hall? My enemies must be laughing now.

The dungeons smell of dust. There is not much room in here. All I can do is sit against the walls of stone and stare into the darkness. I think I will be stuck here for quite a while.

How could it have come this far? I only did what I thought best. Look where it brought me. I lost 15 men and a lot of horses during the fight with the Orcs. What a black day that was. I knew my Lord had ordered me not to go, but I did for I knew what danger the Orcs would be to our country.

Rohan is not the country it used to be and I know it. I know how it started and many with me, but never did we dare to speak our thoughts out loud or to do something about it.

It all started when Grima Wormtongue became the Kings advisor. I do not know what he did to my uncle, but slowly and surely my uncle became older and weaker in body, he grew sick and dependent of that man with his twisted tongue. Things changed rapidly and my cousin Theodred took the military command on his shoulders.

Often did I discuss my uncles state with Theodred and my sister Eowyn, who never left my uncles side. We were all worried and we knew Wormtongue was responsible for it. Yet there was nothing we could do. If only I had done something, violating the code of the Golden Hall earlier. Then we would not be stuck in this situation.

Theodred is dead. I am stuck in the dungeons. And that Wormtongue is out there lose. I know what he's after. I've seen him look at her, Ive seen him following her every move when I was here in Meduseld. The more I think about it, the more angry I become. Yet it will help me nothing. All I can do is sit here and wait until my faith has been decided.

Times have never been so dark in Rohan. With Theodred dead, the most important line of defense against Saruman, the traitor, has fallen. The Westfold is in chaos. My help is needed there. But I can do nothing now. All hope is gone. Wormtongue can bring Rohan to ruins with his council.

My hope rests with one man. The man I encountered a few days ago in the company of an Elf and a Dwarf. That man is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I pray he will come to Edoras quickly. The Sword of Elendil could help Rohan in its time of need. Perhaps he will be able to do what I could not: to drive Wormtongue out of my home.

Until that time comes, I must sit here in the dungeons and await the faith chosen for me.



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