Hello all! I've come back with ANOTHER story about a horse. I really am obsessed with the animals of Middle-Earth. Ha! I should write about each and every one of them, from fell beasts to horses to wargs. These stories are just too easy to write about. Ain't that interesting? Well, here's the story of Arod, horse of Rohan.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even Arod. But, however I own Caruryn, Adran, Ember, Knight, Patch, and Kiva. Oh, and maybe a few more.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review! Reviews make me happy!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 1:

Blood pounded in my ears, adrenaline rushing in my veins. My heart pounded fast, and my breathing ragged and panting. A sharp jerk, shriek of pain and then a dull thud of another body hitting the ground. I smirked. Finally, seventeen down for Caruryn and Arod...er, a lot more Orcs to go.

Shadows couldn't be darker than the night over me; the trees seeming to be shaking in anger as Rohan soldiers and Orcs fought fiercely. It's all I've ever known my life. Born and raised as a horse to be ridden on during wars, I've seen countless battles with Caruryn. I've always been around death and blood; so many times I don't really care about it anymore.

Cries of pain or fury rang throughout the forest, like a horrible death song that chills you right down deep to the bone. I whirled around as the rein jerked to my left, and I met another Orc. Narrowing my eyes in concentration, I reared up, kicking with sharp hooves, hitting it in the face. It hissed as my hooves hit its soft flesh. Then I twisted a bit to my right, so Caruryn could easily cleave off its head with a clean slice of his razor-sharp sword.

"Good boy, Arod!" He congratulated me, a pat on my head. I neighed and tossed my head in return. Then the nice times were over. Back to fighting.

A mess it was in that battlefield - a bloody mess indeed as well. It was a chaotic place of forest and land, Orcs and men and horses tossed from a frying pan and into the fire. Bad to worse.

Then there was a shout. "Prince Éomer!" I heard my master call. A tall man with long, blonde hair came into view, sweat on his forehead and a cut on his cheek. I gazed at him with admiration and confidence. Éomer wasn't originally the heir to the throne of Rohan, but Théodred, son of King Théoden, had died during the First Battle of the Fords of Isen. Then Éomer became the heir.

Grief and sorrow, I remember, was on his expression and face and attitude for many days before he got over his cousin's death. They were like brothers, I remember. But I do know that Brego was Théoden's horse, and he went wild and unmanageable for some time. Poor horse; he had lost his master. Master and horse alike are brothers. I think he is still in the Edoras stables at the moment, stable boys trying to help him. No doubt that he might have bitten one of them by now.

"What is it, Caruryn?"

"The Orcs are nearly finished! What shall we do with them when we are finished?"

Éomer thought for a second, while I touched noses with my friend, Firefoot. He was a gray stallion, lean and tall with powerful leg muscles. He always outran me in any race, any day. Or else he would always kill more Orcs than me. Either way, he would win any war and I would have to accept defeat grudgingly. "How many?" I challenged him, determined that maybe I could win against him someday. "Nineteen." He replied smugly, his black eyes glinting in amusement. "And you?"

I couldn't help but have a defeated scowl on my face. "Seventeen." I grunted.

He let out a neigh of laughter. "What?" I asked defensively. "You had a head start, remember? Five before I got to start!"

Firefoot's dark eyes twinkled in pleasure. "That is why, my friend, you always pick a spot in the front, not a few rows back!" He chuckled, taunting me playfully. I shrugged, feeling slightly sheepish at the fact that I did, indeed, chose a spot a few rows back. "So what, seventeen isn't that bad. Caruryn broke his wrist so he has to use his other hand for his sword, so I've got the excuse." I said.

It was his turn to snort. "That's not an excuse!" He said. "It's your fault, you reacted too late when he made you step back from that blasted Orc. Or else his wrist wouldn't be broken." Firefoot had a reprimanding look directing straight towards me. As always. He always found a way to teach me something. But the thing that he didn't realize was that I was no young foal that stole apples or sugar cubes from the market or bit the stable boys by their hands when they tried to comb my mane to free it of its tangles. I glared at him back.

"Well, I'm sorry that I reacted an eighth of a second too slow, Firefoot!" I snapped.

He rolled his eyes. "Every part of a second counts, Arod, I thought you knew that."

I sighed, feeling my fiery temper beginning to burn. I was known for quite the fiery personality in me. I was also quite restless. But although I didn't know it, there was something slowly creeping up behind Firefoot while we argued about whether or not it was my fault that Caruryn got a broken wrist or not while Éomer and my master discussed the next plan.

"So what? I didn't mean to do it!"

"Still, it's your fault!"

Our argument was getting very intense. We never fought like this before, and when we did, it was never this cold and biting. Firefoot and I, were very good friends. Old friends as well. We were playmates since I was born.

I stiffened when I saw an Orc creeping up besides Firefoot, a sword ready at hand. Firefoot was still ranting on and on and on about how ashamed I should be, when I wasn't exactly listening. "Arod!" he hissed, nudging my cheek with his nose to regain my attention back to him. "Are you listening to me?"

Obviously not.

"Move, move, move!" I made a frantic dart to shove Firefoot aside. He let out a neigh of shock as he was pushed to the side, stumbling in the dark. The Orc snarled angrily at my sudden movement. Both Éomer and Firefoot was knocked to the ground by accident. Caruryn, I could feel, was tensing on me, and he swung his sword with a yell.

Though it was no use.

The Orc was already prepared for the move. It was as if it knew that my master was going to swing his sword.

And then, it was quick, fast, and unknown to my senses. I didn't even feel it. Not a single thing.

Yet it did feel weird. Odd and out of place. My back was interestingly too light. I twisted my head around to see my saddle empty, and a jolt of alarm ripped through my mind. A neigh of panic escaped my mouth, and I looked around wildly for my master. "Caruryn!" I shouted loudly. "Caruryn!"

Please don't let him die, wherever he is, I prayed to myself silently.

When it seemed like years before I spotted Caruryn, not far away. My master fought with the Orc, desperately clinging onto his life as he attempted to stab the Orc. I sighed a breath of relief as he seemed okay. Only then did I look away to find Firefoot and Éomer getting up and looking around, dazed. Yet a fraction of a second I was late again like I had let Caruryn's wrist break.

I always had a terrible sense of when to look and react. I always was at the wrong place in the wrong time. And my master wasn't at all alright too. Staggering, the Orc took the advantage of my master's weak arm and grabbed his wrist. Caruryn let out a cry of pain when the Orc twisted it, and was caught off-guard.

"No!" I shouted.

Immediately, I was about to bolt towards the Orc. Time seemed to slow down as the sword was poised about Caruryn's chest. I was already running, but when time slows down, you are slow to run as well. Too late to react, as I always was, the Orc raised his sword and stabbed his chest. Curse my faults and stupidness. They always get the best of me.

Then time sped up and I crashed into the Orc, trampling it successfully to death, careful not to step on my master.

My heart beat rapidly as I searched his face and body for signs of breathing and life. His eyes were opened, glassy and almost glazed over, just staring into empty space instead of my frantic face. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth and left a wet, dark trail as it fell onto the damp and bloodied grass. "Caruryn!" I nudged his cheek, desperate. "Caruryn!" It was like calling to nobody in the darkness of fog and coldness. "Caruryn!" I neighed again.

Don't leave me...you promised you wouldn't...

I felt a shadow on me, and when I looked up, it was only Éomer and Firefoot, who had looks of sorrow on their faces. I let Prince Éomer kneel by my master and felt for a pulse on his neck. His present frown turned into a deeper frown of grief and he bowed his head. For a moment, my head was spinning. Was he dead? Was he alive? Or was he unconscious? I would've been smarter and known what happen, except for the shock that was leaving me in the dust.

Firefoot stepped up besides me. I felt lost and depressed. I knew that Caruryn wasn't with me anymore. He wouldn't ever be. I lowered my head in my grief, touching his gloved hand, fogging up the scratched and dirty armor. The armor showed my white-colored face and body, tears threatening to fall that I wouldn't let.

"Arod?" Firefoot's voice was hesitant and soft.

I looked up, swallowing past the painful lump in my throat. "What?"

"A-are you okay? I mean - Caruryn..." He trailed off, his eyes shining with condolences, sadness and sympathy for me. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. "It was my fault as well. If I had been paying more attention to our surroundings than to you then - "

I cut him off. "No, it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault." I raised my grey and white colored head, my eyes glittering with a new fury at Orcs and worst of all, Sauron. "It's the Orcs and Sauron's fault. They wanted to kill all of the good Men in Middle-Earth, and that's wrong." I was shaking in fury and I wanted revenge for the kind master who raised me up since I was a young foal. Who would want to do such a thing? Only insane ones would.

Only cruel ones would.

Éomer stood up, stroking my head softly. "I'm afraid, Arod, Caruryn is...dead." He pronounced the three words I didn't want to hear, although I knew them already. I dipped my head, and he took the reins and Firefoot's as well.

Though I was feeling more hurt and lost than ever before, I knew that Éomer was probably feeling worst. He had lost his cousin. Now he had lost one of his best soldiers. One of his best friends that had supported and held him when all seemed lost in despair.

We looked around, surveying the scene, seeing Orcs and Men all lying on the ground, dead. The grass was damp with blood. "Burn all of the Orcs!" He announced to the waiting soldiers, all on horses. "And we will grieve for the dead soldiers of Rohan tonight, those who had died in great honor and value, to defend their homes and family."

If one listened carefully to his voice, then you could detect hidden grief. Something that was rare in that particular confident, brave and strong man.

Then he led us to another man, probably a mere stable boy or something. "Adran." He said. "This is Arod, horse of Caruryn and Firefoot, my horse. Take care of them, and make sure they have fresh hay and water and clean blankets. They have done well tonight." Then he walked away, leaving us.

The man that was named Adran was skinny, shy-looking and constantly nervous to be around someone with a rank as high as Prince Éomer. A jittery man that he was, he kept fumbling around us. Like he was even scared to be around Firefoot and I, although we were just horses. But it could've been the fact that we were Éomer and Caruryn's horses, I guess. He bowed low to Éomer, not saying a single word, but just leading us away, back to camp.

We had our saddles and bridles taken off, scrubbed down and fed. We were also covered with a warm blanket covering our backs and shoulders. I gulped down great mouthfuls of water while Firefoot, next to me, dove into a bucket of oats. Adran leaned against the fence casually, watching us gorge down food and water hungrily yet gratefully. "I've always wanted to be a soldier." He said quietly, more talking to himself than to us. I flicked my ears, politely letting him know that I was listening.

I wasn't so sure about Firefoot though, as noisy eating was heard from my left.

"But here I am, stuck as a servant for horses." He said jokingly. I eyed him from my bucket of hay, and swatted flies with my tail. Is it just me...or..is he a little out of his mind...? I thought to myself. He laughed to himself. "And you don't even understand what I'm saying! What am I doing, talking to horses?"

Firefoot also raised his head curiously to see what Adran was going on about. The camp was quiet except for crickets. He shrugged. "I knew I'd never be a soldier."

I hesitantly neared Firefoot, inching away from the man. I didn't really know what he was going on about. Something about a soldier. My knowledge of the language of men was pretty bad. I whispered, "What in the name of Mearas is he going on about?" My friend shrugged, as perplexed and confused as I was. "I don't know." He said back. "Must be a little paranoid, don't you think?" I nodded, agreeing.

"Absolutely."

As time past, then there were other soldiers entering the camp, tired and sore. There were all heading for the healing tent, where other men quickly helped them in and bandaged their wounds. Éomer appeared to Adran, and the skinny man nervously fidgeted as he stood straight, taunt as a bowstring. I watched in amusement as the two started a conversation, though Adran was much more tense than the prince. I nudged Firefoot, who kept sneaking into my bucket oats and stealing my meal. "Look," I gestured to the two.

We snickered the entire time. It was fun.

Finally, when Éomer walked away, we both quickly went back to feeding instead of snickering behind their backs. Adran reached out with a pale hand and brushed my mane out of my eyes. "Prince Éomer says that he burned all the bodies," he explained. I sniffed the air, and winced at the smell of smoke. Of course, how could I miss it?

"And Arod - since Caruryn is gone, he's going to have to find you a new master." I raised my head, unexpecting this new piece of information that reached my ears.

"I'm getting a new master? Excuse me? Can you repeat that again?" I asked, dumbstruck. No! Caruryn is mine, and always will be! No other master will be as good and kind as he was to me. No other person knows anything about me as much as Caruryn did...I don't want a new master...

Firefoot raised an eyebrow. "He said that Éomer's going to have to find you a new master. Because you're still a strong horse. You're still capable of riding into battle, like me. You're not crazy like Brego, or have a broken foot or something. It would be stupid to let a good horse like you just sit around all day in the Edoras stables and do nothing." He told me, speaking slowly, like I was a toddler that didn't know anything.

I was lost for words for a minute, then, "A new master? For me?"

"Apparently."

I let out a snort and whinny at the same time. "This is stupid." I muttered.

"This is life. You ought to get used to it. It's the best you can do right now."

I quietly grumbled to myself. I didn't want a new master, although it would do me good. All I wanted was Caruryn, but he was gone. If he was gone, then I wouldn't want another master. Not one. Not anyone. They could try to tame me all they want, but I would buck and rear and trample them until they were a bucket of slop. Even if I had to go mad like Brego did. I vowed silently to that.

Now full, Adran took away my bucket of oats, and Firefoot's as well, to his dismay. As he kept yelling for Adran to bring back his dinner, I leaned against the fence post lightly as sleepiness swept over me. Men were all around me, laughing and talking and drinking to their victory, but my little world around me was fading into darkness as I fell asleep...

Sorry, it's a little too short to be a chapter. I'm working on trying to extend chapters without making it slow and boring.

So how'd you like that, the story of Arod? Hopefully you like it. :)

Now just click that little link right there, at the bottom of the page - right there, it says "Review Chapter". Do you see it? You should. Now click it and review! :D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes