The Eastern Woman

Spells

"Why did you let her in?"  screamed Grima.  "Who told you to ..."

"Guests ... unexpected guests ..." Théoden said.  He slowly looked up at the woman.  Goneril immediately noticed that his eyes were fogged: as if there had been a veil to cover the celestial irises. 

"Right, my lord. I think Gamling didn't understand your orders."
Grima raised his voice, angry at the soldier.  "We had said: close the gates and no foreigners admitted! What part of this order is unclear to you, vice-captain?"

Gambling replied dryly: "Our kingdom has always welcomed those who offer agreements. Outside there is a mercenary army. King Théoden has never rejected visitors before your arrival, Grima."

"Mercenaries ..." Théoden said, in a rattle.  "No ... agreement."

Grima showed a smile of triumph.  "Did you hear the King, Gamling? Do you think you can fulfill the order of our lord, and kick this woman and her people out of our territory, or would it be too difficult?"  He said

"The only one who should be kicked out of here is you."  Goneril suddenly said.  "Your mere presence offends this place."

Grima and Gamling remained silent for a few moments, surprised by that impertinence.  The woman looked at the King's counselor: if her eyes had been blades, Wormtongue would have fallen into small slices on the stone floor.

Then the little man reacted. "Are you insulting the most devoted subject of the King right in the presence of the King? Do you want your life to end today?" Grima said, trying to stand up. But he couldn't. Goneril had the impression that he was hunchbacked. His greasy hair, black as pitch, framed a grotesque, pale, sick face. Deep brownish circles surrounded his eyes: he seemed not to have slept in years.
Overall, the woman found him revolting.

"I have not offended you." she answered anyway. "I said that you are inappropriate in this place. So let me clarify what I mean: I find that you would be more suitable in the role of jester ... your deformed body would be perfect for the mask of a fool. Every king has one."

Gamling felt a flicker of perfidious joy in his heart. He had no sympathy for the mercenary soldiers, but that girl was the only one who had treated Grima exactly as he deserved. He would almost shake her hand to congratulate. Until that day, only Éomer and Théodred had rebelled against Grima's evilish presence.

Everyone hated that filthy worm, but the unconditional trust that Théoden had put on him made him virtually untouchable.

"Guards!" Grima shouted, in disbelief. "Guards!"
He was about to give the order to arrest her, Gamling could bet on it. The woman had also sensed it: the soldier's experienced eye immediately noticed that Goneril had bent her arm behind her back, and was about to pull something out from under her belt.

Gamling imagined it was a weapon. Quickly, he moved behind her and blocked her wrist. "No." he whispered. "Not this way. Leave it to me."

Grima's face, meanwhile, had lost its pallor, and had blushed furiously, with anger and embarrassment. "To the dungeooooons!" he kept shouting.

"I'll deal with her."  Gambling told him.  Goneril tried to twist her wrist to free herself while two soldiers ran in the Palace, called by Grima.  "I will personally take her out of the realm."  Gamling  promised.

"Out ... of the realm."  Théoden was murmuring.  "Far away ... forever ..."

Goneril looked at the King.  She felt something in her stomach, a sudden and violent feeling of unease.  Far away ... forever.