Title: Rain Rated: PG13 Warnings: It can be sad, for one with emotions. Summary: What if Saruman had taken over and Grima was given Eowyn, as promised? Dedicated to everyone in the grimawormtongue Yahoo! group I'm in. XD The man walked timidly down the corridor, stopped in front of a door. He placed his ear on it, listened intently. No noise came from within. "Eowyn?" He didn't get a reply, but opened the door anyway. Once inside, he saw the still figure of his wife lying facedown on her bed. The blinds were drawn, and the room was dark as possible. "Eowyn..." Grima took a step towards her as she raised her head, sat up as she realized who had entered her chambers. "I was sleeping," she said defensively, subconsciously pulling a blanket over her chest, covering herself. He noticed she wore one of the dresses he had given her as a wedding present, among a score of other things. He gave a small smile. "It's allright... I was wondering if you'd like any dinner tonight? We're having samli." Eowyn shook her head. "No, thank you," she replied politely. Grima shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glanced at himself in her dressing mirror. He looked scared, and of this woman in front of himself. 'And I'm one who can control people?' he thought to himself. 'I look as though I've no authority for anything. Not even my wife! What kind of man is that?' He turned back to Eowyn, angry now. "I will not take 'no' as an answer!" he yelled suddenly. Eowyn looked up with large eyes. "You are my wife, you listen to me! When I say you eat, then do so! Is that understood?" Eowyn said nothing, just trembled slightly of fear. "Do you understand!" Took a step towards her, raised his hand to hit her. She gasped, closed her eyes tight, scrunched her body down under the blanket, as if trying to hide. "Please don't hurt me..." she wailed. Grima froze, his hand just inches from her face. "Oh my God..." He dropped to his knees, shocked at himself. He looked up at Eowyn, who sat with her teeth clenched in a pathetic attempt not to cry. A fat tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Eowyn, please forgive me, I'm so sorry..." He dropped his head, willed himself not to cry with her. After a minute, Grima cleared his throat, stood up. "I'm sorry, and if you don't want any dinner, then you shouldn't have it." She didn't reply. He nodded to her, trying to remain casual about what had just happened. "I'll see you later, then." Turned and left the room. Back in the large dining room, the cook was waiting. "No, Hyean, she's not hungry, I suppose," Grima said to him, took a seat opposite of Saruman, who was watching this exchange intently. "You should take better care of your wife, Worm-tongued," Saruman snarled. "If she's not hungry I'm not forcing her to eat," Grima hissed back. Saruman leaned back in his chair, lit his pipe. "But you forced her to marry you." Grima didn't reply, looked down at the table. "You said I could. You promised I could have her." "You didn't have to. That's not true love if she doesn't feel the same about you." The pale man shook with anger, raised his head back up. "What would you know about love!" he snapped. He got up from the table, rushed out of the room. Saruman didn't reply to Grima, but told Hyean that he would be dining alone tonight. - - - Grima stood in his chambers, staring out the window calmly. From there all that could be seen was Theoden's grave marker, the trees beyond, the sky. Just the Sun in the day and the Moon at night. Sighing, he turned from the window and chose instead a chair in front of the fireplace, which was filled with cold ashes. Eowyn had started crying again, and Grima shut his eyes tightly, as if that could block out the sound that was ripping him apart. All he wanted was that she be happy; have anything her heart desired, but he also wanted her. He wanted her to be his. It couldn't be like that because then she was miserable. She was depressed, disconsolate, cried all night and most of the day. She hardly ever left her chambers. Grima only wanted to touch her, just once even; breath in her amber scent; kiss her milky skin, but he didn't dare go too near her, minus the earlier incident. She didn't like him, and he doubted that she ever would. Tears formed in his eyes again as he thought that; they were so close, they were married, he could hear her sobs in the next room, but he never laid a finger on her, probably never even for comfort. "All she wants..." he choked out, "is to be rid of me..." he leaned his head into his white hands, trying to compose himself. - - - Eowyn clutched the blankets tighter around her body, dreading the morning. She would have to get out of bed again, or Saruman might call a healer; then he would be mad at her because of the expenses. She rolled over, fixing her gaze on the wall that separated her and her husband. Eowyn was glad Saruman had approved Grima's request for separate chambers, but felt so alone that she thought she wouldn't mind a body next to hers right now, even if it were Grima. He seemed to genuinely like her, and wouldn't do anything unwanted, if you forgot about the small fit of rage last week. Eowyn had to admit; she didn't mind Grima too much. The black man made positive her every wish was granted. Even if it was like that with Theodon, she had to do all the pink-collared work in the castle when he was alive. Eowyn sat up, stretched, let the blanket fall off her onto the bed. Walked to the door, opened it and went to her husband's door, knocked softly. He looked incredibly surprised to see her. "E-eowyn..." he stammered in disbelief. She looked to the ground. "I was wondering..." He stood quiet, waiting for her to continue. "It's... it's just that it's awful cold in my room, and very lonely..." He nodded, and held the door open wider. - - - The next few days were much better. If Eowyn continued to see the good in Grima, life would be much easier. And he was happier just seeing her. It was difficult to not think about what had happened the one night before dinner, and with Theodon. She had to keep reminding herself that Grima had been forced to do that, he was a victim as well as she was, and her uncle. She rose early the next morning, tidied their chambers, went into the dining area where Saruman and Grima discussed some plan or other, both smoking their pipes. Eowyn sat down, nodded to each of the men, tried to eat the morning meal served to her. - - - That evening, each spouse in their own chamber. Eowyn wondered if she should go see Grima again. She thought hard for some excuse, as she found she was in very good company with him. "Well... these chambers are so large for a woman," she said out loud to herself. "Especially for one as petite as myself. And it's quite drafty..." - - - Grima sat in his chair again, thinking. About Eowyn, of course. "It doesn't matter what seems," he muttered into his hands. "She doesn't love me, she was feeling alone. It's such a big, dreary castle and she's such a small, beautiful woman. I still think she needs to be happy..." his words trailed off as he recalled his thoughts from a many nights ago, before Eowyn had come into his chambers. He stood up and left the room. - - - Having heard footsteps in the hallway two or three times, Eowyn wondered where Grima was. Eowyn walked to the door, opened it, looked up and down the corridor. Empty. She slowly walked the few short steps to Grima's door, knocked softly. No answer. She tried again. Still no answer. Feeling nervous about it, she opened the door. It was her husband's room after all; there was no need to feel like a trespasser. Eowyn stepped into the warm room. The fireplace still burned a few small embers, and Grima was asleep in the red chair placed before it, her back to him. The drapes were open; night sky filtered in through the tightly-closed window. "Grima?" she asked timidly as she went over to his chair. As his face came into view her blood turned to ice. Grima lay still, blue eyes wide open; face whiter than one ever thought able. His hand was still loosely draped around the silver-handled dagger in his chest. A few drippings of blood had coagulated onto his black clothing. Eowyn trembled, willed herself not to scream. She backed out of the room, unable to tear her gaze away from her husband. "Saruman?" she called down the corridor. "Saruman!" - - - Saruman glanced up at Eowyn. Rain fell gently onto her dark clothes and blond hair, making her look like some misplaced goddess. The rain mingled with her tears until Saruman couldn't tell which was which. Any sparkle in her eyes was completely gone now. The workers, called from the village, covered the casket with dirt as Eowyn turned, walked back into the castle after tossing a single red flower onto the coffin. - - - Saruman sat across the table from Eowyn, who had eaten next-to-nothing so far. "Eowyn, dear, eat your supper. It's good for you," he said shortly to her, lighting up his pipe. She hadn't eaten much since the day she found out she was to be wed to Grima. Her cheeks were caved in, face sallow, and movements were sickly, slow, especially now that he was dead. Her sad, watery eyes flickered up to his wizened ones. "I'm not hungry," she said hollowly. "Excuse me." Eowyn got up from the table, left the room. She never smiled anymore. Saruman finished his pipe, then followed a few minutes later, searching for the small lady. He found her in Grima's chambers, sitting on the bed, as Saruman hadn't gotten his belongings removed just yet. Eowyn was looking out the window best she could; the window was quite high up. The old man stood until she looked up at him. "Oh, Saruman..." her voice cracked; she placed her handkerchief to her lips. "Why the tears, my fair-haired lady?" His voice was mocking. "He's dead, almost a month now, you should be smiling." Eowyn kept her gaze with him until he walked over to the chair that her late husband had been found in, sat down. "You told me you had something to share?" Saruman asked. Eowyn looked back over to him, questioningly. "This morning, over the morning meal, you mentioned you wanted to tell me something. What is it?" The blond woman licked her lips nervously, wrung the lace handkerchief. The one from Grima, Saruman noted. Eowyn cleared her throat. "When... I'm pregnant with Grima's child."