The Heart of the Maze

Title: From Rauros to Isengard
By: Ithiliana
Overall Rating: Variable, PG at start and in places but as part of overall AU, NC-17
Section Rating: Part 4 is PG
Pairing: Boromir/Aragorn, Boromir/Aragorn/Éowyn, Boromir/Éomer (10 years previous)
Feedback: Always Appreciated!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the Tolkien estate. This story is written for fun, not for money, with no intent to infringe upon copyright.

NOTES: Chronology: I am taking the 'five days' that are mentioned in the film and adding them to the chronology in the book. Need those extra five days…for character interaction! hot sex and hot talk about sex Éomer: I am working from book rather than film, so he was briefly imprisoned at Grima's instigation then freed. He is NOT out wandering around the Rohan with 2000 or whatever Rohirrim. On horses that can tiptoe up to a Ranger. *snort* One of my (few) real gripes about film. Helm's Deep: Am blending elements from book and movie. And making up some stuff. Quotes: Éowyn's cup-bearing speech is taken from The Two Towers , "The King of the Golden Hall," as is Théoden's speech.



My earlier AU in this series can be found by accessing my Memory Page:

From Rivendell to Rauros 1-22 Here

The current AU parts will be identified at the same place as I post them.

FRR is posted entirely on my journal since it consists of both interspecies and sons_of_gondor narratives intertwined. For those who don't wish to read all 22 parts (137 pages if memory serves), you can read a brief summary of the main premise and action I posted here:

Summary FRR

From Rauros to Cirith Ungol (4 part Frodo/Faramir AU) was posted in my lj (listed on memory page) and on the interspecies community.

From Rauros to Isengard will be posted in my journal and on the sons_of_gondor community. Part 3 of this WIP can be found:

FRI 3






Daymeal that night was quieter than the night before, Boromir realized as he drained his tankard and pushed it, and his empty plate, away. Last night, the healing of Théoden had been celebrated. Tonight, the news that Théoden had ordered all to prepare to retreat to Helm's Deep was being spread. All in Edoras would leave early the next morning, the second hour after sunrise.

Boromir shared Aragorn and Gandalf's frustration with the king's decision. And yet he understood Théoden's reasoning as well. The news brought to Edoras by those sent from the villages in the Westemnet and the Eastemnet made it clear that many bands of roving Orcs and Dunlandings were abroad in the Riddermark. The people of the land were suffering, yet no single sortie could save them. To retreat to a well-defended place, to draw the multiple bands into a strike there, was a good tactical decision.

A silence fell over the tables at the front of the Hall, and Boromir looked up to see that the king had risen. A slim young woman, clad in shimmering blue, with blonde hair falling to her waist, came forward bearing a large golden cup.

"Ferthu Théoden hál. Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at thy going and coming!"

After Théoden drank from the cup, she came to the table where Boromir, along with Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, and Éomer were sitting. All rose. She offered the cup to Aragorn.

"Hail Aragorn son of Arathorn," she said.

"Hail Lady of Rohan!" he said as he took the cup and drank from it.

Boromir noted that Aragorn smiled as he looked upon her and the colour that rose in her cheeks as she looked back. He found himself watching her with new attention as she moved around the table, greeting each of the guests by name and offering them the cup.

He vaguely remembered seeing her at the feast last night but had not recognized her then. Éowyn! When he was last in Rohan, he had come to know her after he became involved with Éomer. His memory was of a coltish girl, all legs and arms, often clad in a boy's tunic and leggings, hair carelessly tied back, smudged with dirt and spending her time in the stables. She had resented Éomer's involvement with Boromir, he thought at the time, perhaps because of the loss of their parents, and was too young to hide it.

Now, grown to a stunning beauty, she approached him, last of all, her eyes down, to offer him the cup of wine.

"Hail Boromir son of Denethor."

Boromir took the cup from her hands and sipped after greeting her in return. Her voice seemed cold, her manner distant. When he returned the cup to her, he held it a moment, trying to win some recognition from her.

"Lady Éowyn, I am glad to see you again," Boromir said. "Would you care to join us?"

She did not look up when she replied. "My apologies, Lord Boromir. I have duties elsewhere."

Boromir flushed at the tone of her voice, allowed her to take the cup from him and sat, feeling rebuked.

Éomer said, "Sister, you can spare us a few moments, surely."

She hesitated, then sat next to him on the bench, still looking down.

After moments of silence, several conversations hastily began. Gandalf asked Éomer about his encounters with Saruman's Orcs, and Legolas and Gimli began another round of their debate concerning the relative virtues of axes compared to bows and knives. This topic was of great interest to them at least.

But chill silence seemed to surround Eowyn, sitting across the table from Aragorn and Boromir. He thought she seemed frozen, a far cry from the laughing, vital girl he remembered from a decade ago. Even though she had disliked him, her energy and openness had charmed him. He wondered what had happened to change her.

After what seemed an eternity during which Boromir passed from embarrassment to anger, the king rose and passed down the Hall to the great doors, calling to him the heralds and chiefs. Silence fell over the Hall.

"Behold, tomorrow I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding. I have no child. Théodred my son is slain. I name Éomer my sister-son to be my heir. If neither of us return, then choose a new lord as you will."

The king and his chiefs left the Hall. In their wake, others began to leave. Gandalf rose and left, closely followed by Legolas and Gimli.

Aragorn spoke quietly, "Lady, what can you tell us of a young man named Dernhelm? We met him earlier today."

Boromir had to stand quickly as Éomer upset his goblet, wine streaming over the table.

Boromir helped Éomer clean up the mess as Éowyn spoke.

"He is a young relative of ours," she said. "From a distant line. He came to Edoras some years ago after losing his parents in an Orc raid. Why do you ask?"

Boromir sat again, wondering at the difference in her when she spoke to Aragorn. Her eyes shone as she looked at him.

Aragorn shrugged, "He seemed to be burdened by an unnamed sorrow," he said to Boromir's confusion.

He had not thought Dernhelm sorrowful. Shy perhaps. But then Aragorn tended to see more than most did.

"I would help him if I could," Aragorn continued.

She smiled. "That is kind of you, my lord. But I think Dernhelm would prefer to be left to deal with his problems on his own. Would you agree, brother?"

"Yes," Éomer said firmly. "He has always refused to live here, to trade on his relationship with us, preferring to go his own way. He is…somewhat older than he looks. He would not wish to be singled out, I think."

"Very well," Aragorn said. "I will do nothing…unless asked."

Boromir saw that Aragorn addressed his words mostly to Éowyn. Watching them all, Boromir was confused. He had the feeling that more was being communicated than was being said.

Éowyn rose, drawing the formal manner with which she had borne the cup to the king about her as a cloak, and bid them goodnight.

Boromir watched her as she left the Hall, passing silently through the columns to leave through a door that was behind the beautifully carved throne. She was a mystery to him, one that he found he wished to understand.

"Come," Aragorn said. "We had best go to our sleep." He stood, and Boromir hastily followed. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Éomer.

As he and Aragorn walked to their room, Boromir tried to understand how it was that his life had gotten so much more complicated in ways that had nothing to do with the war.

* * * * * * *

Éowyn left the Hall through the side door near the throne. As soon as the door was shut, she stopped, leaned against the wall, and began to breathe easily again.

Aragorn had seen the truth behind Dernhelm. She was sure of it. In fact, remembering this morning, she thought he had seen it at the training ground. But he seemed to be promising her that he would not reveal her secret.

Boromir had not seen. She remembered him clearly from ten years ago, and did not think he had changed greatly since then. Both now and during his brief stay at the Golden Hall last summer, he seemed the same. Honest and open, uncomfortable talking to women, or perhaps only to her, but not one to lie or hide his feelings. Had he realized her deception, he would have spoken.

She remembered how he had been so taken with Éomer for a time although that seemed to have passed before he had left to return to Gondor. Even though she had treated him badly during his time with her brother, he had always been honest and kind to her. At thirteen years, all she had seem was a strange man who had stolen her brother's attention from her for a season or two. Now, she saw him with different eyes.

As well as Aragorn.

Éowyn realized she should return to her room. She still had to pack what she would take to Helm's Deep, and it was growing late. But even as she walked, moving through the familiar passages without seeing them, she could not stop thinking of this evening.

From a table across the room, she had watched the two of them sitting side by side, their shoulders touching. One dark, quiet but conveying the sense of great authority masked for a time. A dark green tunic, a large knife worn casually at his side, an unusual jewel at his throat. Silver and crystal, finely made, gleaming in the torchlit hall, it seemed more a woman's ornament. The other light to his dark, blond, carrying himself as he always had, as a lord's son, a warrior and leader of warriors, in a red and gold tunic of silk. Two who seemed to be always aware of each other, communicating with a look and a word. She wondered what their relationship was. It seemed closer than battle companions, reminded her of Éomer in his first days with Éothain.

Since her cousin's death a double handful of days ago, Éowyn had drowned in sorrow. Her brother's disagreement with Grima, his imprisonment, her uncle's illness, had been too much to bear. She had roused herself only once, when Wormtongue had approached her, offering his protection in the wake of her brother's disgrace. He was lucky she had not been wearing a knife at that moment.

And now, in a day, all had changed. The uncle and king she remembered from her girlhood, before Grima had arrived, had returned, healed. Like a fresh wind from the West blowing through a dark room, Gandalf and the others had arrived and the Eorlingas would go to war. And more than that, training with Boromir this morning, talking to Aragorn and Boromir this evening, she felt alive in a way that was new to her. Anything seemed possible now. Where before she had seen only one path, a dark one leading into endless night, now many opened before her. She did not think she could sleep this night.

Éowyn opened the door to her room and entered. The rich designs upon the floor, tapestries she had woven on the wall, shone in the light of the lamps. It was a beautiful room. But more than ever, it seemed to shrink in upon her. A cage. The loom sat in the corner of the room, a tapestry half-finished. The elaborately decorated chest contained dresses. The bed was narrow, a maiden's bed, she thought scornfully. She had been alone too long.

She looked around impatiently. She realized that she could go to Helm's Deep tomorrow leaving all in this room behind without a single regret except for the carved horse that sat upon a shelf on the wall, made by Théodred for her fourteenth birthday, and the gold necklace that had been her mother's.

Coming to a sudden decision, she left her room. She met no one as she left the Hall by a little-known back door and hurried to the stables. As always, she felt calmed by the horses, now dozing, unaware of what was going to happen in the morning. Windfola woke and nickered happily at her when she entered, and she stroked his nose, apologizing for not bringing him a treat. Then she went to the chest in the back of the stall and pulled out her gear. This was the most important thing she had to pack.

She would travel to Helm's Deep as Éowyn. But once there, she might choose to take on a different role than sitting with the women and children in the Caves. The time for that was over.