Chapter the Eighth- In Which Our Heroine Hones her Diplomatic Skills.

As if emerging from a black ocean, Madiya slowly regained consciousness.

For a few moments, she lay there in a daze, not knowing where she was. Her head was foggy, and a nasty taste lingered in her mouth. Not only that, but her breasts, shoulders and thighs were sticky and crusty. She knew that she hadn’t drank too much last night… but all in all, she felt quite disgusting, and direly in need of a wash.

Then slowly, surely, as her sluggish mind tried to think as quickly as it could, she realized just where she was. She was in her own guest room in Edoras; and as the dawn light shone through the windows, she saw that a black greasy head lay right between her breasts. She was pinioned to the bed, and she couldn’t move.

As she realized just what she did, her stomach sank to her feet.

How, by all the gods, had it all happened? She knew, intellectually, that it only happened last night, but her tumble with the snaky councilor who now lay sprawled on top of her like she was a Trestian divan seemed centuries ago. Carefully, she tried to wiggle herself free without waking him; and after a few minutes, managed to free herself and place her feet on the icy floor. By the Goddess, she observed with a shudder, the entire front of her body was covered with dried semen, and her hair was a perfect rat’s nest! She cursed herself and her penchant for getting into impossible situations.

Madiya, you think you’re so damned clever; you’re so smug and sure of yourself; but why in the name of the Triune Goddess did you bed the most dangerous man in Rohan? What were you thinking?

She paused and took a deep breath, her eyes stealing back towards her erstwhile bedmate. At the thought of how they had occupied themselves, she found herself sighing, grimacing and blushing at the same time.

Well, darling, she answered herself wryly, knowing you, you did this because he was the most dangerous man in Rohan. And, as her mother used to say- it seemed like a good idea at the time!

For all her calculating nature, Madiya knew perfectly well that she still had the unfortunate tendency to jump, feet first, into situations that really required a bit more caution. She probably should not have thrown herself at Grima Wormtongue; but there was no use in crying over spilled wine, as the old proverb went. And it couldn’t be said, she thought, that she didn’t enjoy it. But now, as she glanced back at the inert form lying among the blankets, with the chill early light shining off his body like the sun off plaster, she had no desire to go back near him. All she wanted, she thought, her teeth chattering as she picked her shift off the floor, was to plunge into a scalding hot bath and scrub herself with a sponge and a thick bar of soap…

But as she pulled on her shift, a pair of white hands wrapped themselves about her waist and pulled her back towards the bed. Behind her, a honeyed, husky voice whispered:

“I bid you good morning, my beauteous Sultana of the Raj. Will you not tarry a little bit longer? For seeing you in all your glory has enthralled my senses once more.”

Madiya turned around and stiffened. Gríma’s hair, which last night had seemed like a mass of black serpents, now looked merely limp and oily; and his skin, which had seemed so alluringly, deathly pale, appeared this morning to be merely the color of uncooked porridge. Also, with the sun hitting his face, she noticed for the first time that, while one of his eyes was a very light blue, the other was a darker blue-gray, which only added to the asymmetrical oddness of his face.

“Uh, good morning, my lord,” she said after a pause.

His hands dropped. His mismatched eyes were already narrowing with a sort of wary suspicion, and his lips pinched. “Well! You’re up rather early.”

“Oh,” she blurted out nervously, “I’m feeling rather disheveled… and I desperately need a bath.”

“Ah, yes. To wash away my filth, I assume?” There was a pause, and his eyes narrowed even further. “I take it that- since the sun is rising- you would like me to leave?”

Madiya opened her mouth, and closed it again. With a shiver, she realized that she treaded upon thin ice; that if she said the wrong thing, her newfound lover, so quick to take offense, would find a way to destroy her. Considering how anxious and fearful Rohan had become with all the recent orc attacks, Lord Gríma could merely mention the fact that she wore a hand-shaped amulet about her neck, and she could be thrown out, imprisoned or even killed…

So- despite the fact that her instincts were screaming at her to run away from this man as quickly as possible- Madiya sat down on the bed. Smoothing the crumpled linen of her shift with her hands, she carefully picked out the words in her head before she began.

“My lord,” she said, “we have shared a bed this night, and surely I would not wish to wash away what pleased me so strongly just a few hours before. This is merely the way of women; I do not wish for you to see me in this state with my hair in tangles and my clothing wrinkled. Even my own mother, the Lady Manat be with her, woke up an hour before my father so she might bathe, lest he see her so unkempt in the morning light.”

She could see the struggle within him, his suspicion warring with the desire to believe her. At last- to her relief- she saw his posture relax, and his features soften.

“Well, then my dear,” said he graciously, “once you have completed your morning rituals, you may accompany me to the Great Hall, where we may break our fast, as is the custom.”

As he reached forward to caress her arm, she cleared her throat. “But my lord, you are the king’s advisor, a truly wise man. Do you wish for others to whisper that you have lain with a woman that you have only known for one day?”

Gríma stiffened again. “You are embarrassed to be seen with me…?” Somehow, this managed to be a question and a statement at the same time.

Goddess help me, Madiya thought desperately, this is like navigating a rocky sea! She took a deep breath, summoning up all the diplomatic eloquence at her disposal.

“My lord, if I were embarrassed, which certainly I am not, I would remain as yet unfazed, for I shall be leaving Rohan very shortly; whereas you must walk the halls of this palace every day of your life. Would you truly care to hear the lowly mutterings of the servants as they gossip about the woman who left so quickly after she bedded you? Do you not think that they will say that you are the reason she left such haste? And,” she added, “what would the Princess Éowyn think of all this?”

Gríma’s eyes became slits. He surveyed her so intensely that Madiya found it hard not to squirm, like a felon under the gaze of an unforgiving magistrate.

“Well, my dear,” he said sardonically, “you seemed to have mulled over this most extensively.”

Clearly it was time to make a bold move. She leaned towards him, conscious that the drawstring of her shift was loose and provided an excellent view of her bosom. When she was only a few inches away from his lips, she said, her voice throaty and low:

“But my lord, being a suitable lover isn’t possible without loving every aspect of a person, including their honor.”

She then placed her mouth on his, and started to kiss him as if she really wanted to, as if she wasn’t sore and crusty and generally in a foul temper. But when he responded convulsively, wrapping his fingers in her hair, the insistence and assiduousness of his lips and tongue reminded her how last night hadn’t been a complete loss. But, she thought dizzily, it’s still a good thing I’m leaving soon…

When she at last broke away from him, he gave a ragged sigh. “In that case, my lady, I shall depart so you may tend to your toilet. My eyes shall be able to feast upon you soon enough.”

At that moment, his fingers twitched where they still gripped the coverlets, and his eyes flickered towards the pile of his clothes. With a slight smile she picked them up and passed them to him. “If you would,” he rasped, “I should prefer it if you look away whilst I… make myself presentable.”

“Yet if you should need any help with the fastenings, my lord-” Madiya replied, before he interrupted.

“Yes, yes. I shall call you if you are needed.”

As if she was only a tiring maid! she wondered, amused more than irritated. As she turned away and examined the whorls of the wood grain on the opposite wall, she heard the rustle of wool, velvet, damask and tissue, sounding almost like a creature rousing itself from hibernation.

As the minutes passed, and all she heard was the soft whispers and susurrations of fabric, she gave into temptation and glanced over her shoulder. By this time, Gríma had donned all the layers of his elaborate attire, and was fussing with the ties that secured the tapered points of his sleeves over his hands. “You could not bear to wait until I was finished, could you?” he snapped, glaring down at her, as if his newly clothed state somehow added inches to his stature.

Madiya stared back at him. Somehow, while she had been looking away, he had become Lord Wormtongue again- armored in his silks and velvets- with the sun glinting off the silver and onyx of his medallion and belt. As she was still only in her shift, she felt somewhat at a disadvantage.

Yet she raised her chin anyway. For all his grandeur, she observed that in his haste he had not tied the front of his robe. Crossing over to him, she picked up the loose cords, dangling beneath the fur collar, and tied it into a neat little knot. Then, she sunk her fingers into the deep nap of the raven-black velvet, lifted her head, and pecked him quickly on the lips- which, she noted, were still warm.

“How fine you look,” she murmured. “You must allow me to return the favor. Permit me, my dear lord, to set myself to rights, and you shall see me anon, within the Great Hall.”

For a moment he gazed at her obliquely, with his odd-colored eyes. For all her cleverness, she had to admit she had no idea to what was passing through that brain of his; once robed, thought Madiya uneasily, the councilor was no longer the clinging bedfellow of hours before, whose emotions lay as naked as the rest of him.

Gríma sketched, then, a small bow.

“I count the minutes until I may be able to see you again, my lady,” he whispered… and with that, withdrew. Indeed, after a moment it was if he had melted into the very shadows. His natural habitat, Madiya told herself cynically- given how poorly he looked in the full glare of day.