An Ending for Grima

Author - Michelle

Rating - PG

Disclaimer - Grima belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, I am merely borrowing him for a short time.  Honest.


The Shire.


Heavy blows from behind had forced him to the ground as he ran. 
 A knife lay in his hands stained with - what exactly?  Sharkey 
and Saruman blended in his memory, which was beginning to seep 
from him as was his blood, staining the innocent ground of the 
shire, their last resort.

Some refuge.  Sharkey's greed had tarnished this place as well.
  And Grima had helped, reluctantly but his actions still counted. 
 He did not deny what he had done; it was too late to lie now.

The pain was not just felt in his back.  Memories flitted across
 his vision, obscuring the group of hobbits who looked on.  Why
 were they watching him?  Where was he now?  

They has travelled far, long after the flight from Isengard,
 that hateful dark place, filled with grinning Orcs, obscenities
 that capered long into the night. The white wizard's insults and
 blows sent Grima frequently to hide, to try and immerse himself 
in Isengard's vast library.  Hiding in the dark, alone with memories 
of a fair haired cold lady of Rohan, the one who had his heart even 
now, after all this time away from her. Her proud features, flowing 
hair, her frightening prowess with a sword, a true shieldmaiden of Rohan.
  Both trapped in their own prisons; for who would allow her to wield her 
weapon now? 

Another woman approached him as he lay, rolling slowly to stare at the sky.
  She dressed as a Lady of Rohan, yet in a style years gone.  Not his Eowyn 
then, but then she never was his.  Except in dreams , before Saruman's contact,
 and corruption and deceit, for hadn't the wizard promised him his heart's 
desire?  The wizard was charming, and powerful and deadly.

Eowyn.  Was she safe?  Was she?  

Just one touch, one kind word.  Maybe that would have saved him from this
 existence in shadows, in a deep despair.  He had made the wrong choice - 
if he had gathered his courage and followed Gandalf... The young hobbit,
 offered him shelter.
If he had chance to choose...
But both times Sharkey had intervented, kicked out and ...

"He cannot hurt you now.  Come with me."

What was this knife doing in his hand.  Why was he surrounded with light 
now?

"Drop the knife, Grima.  Don't look back."

Who is this woman? Why does she speak to him instead of the natural repulsion 
she must obviously feel?

Fear grasped him as he struggled to breath.  Memories and references were 
fading; where was he now?
A few gasps and the tightness in his chest receeded.  He seemed to float, as
 four shades walked past him to stare at the heap on the ground. Standing, he 
looked back at this heap, not recognising what it was.  Four arrows stood proud 
of it's back.

A gentle hand turned his face from the scene.

"Don't look back, beloved.  Only pain awaits you there." 

She has the same blue eyes.  Where are we going now? I know her, I think. The
 light, the beautiful light...

They drifted away together.