Since her final encounter with Wormtongue and his memory-altering powder, he’d become a pathetic, wheedling nonentity in the eyes of most of the Roh...rrim. He retained full control of the King — which was, to her mind, proof that what bewitched King Théoden was sustained by something beyond Wormtongue’s usual tricks of voice — but slowly lost his grip on most everyone else. And then came his groveling capitulation to the Wizard. She felt a rush of immense satisfaction at that, yet so much else. Your hands are on my arms, pulling me close, holding me there. Then you are kissing me, as they say in romance novels, thoroughly. Suddenly, you stop kissing me and stand before me, naked and aroused. You sit on the chaise and I move slowly before you, humming and floating dreamily, thinking of you and what is about to happen. ‘Shall we dance, on a bright cloud of music, shall we fly?’ Oh, I want to fly with you. I dance for you now, the silver gray fabric floating about my legs, my arms. More

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