DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognise belongs to Tolkein!
Chapter 1 – Introductions
Fork, broom, shovel.
It was another typical day for Freya, daughter of Hathor. It was about an hour after the door in May, two years after the War of the Ring and she had already done more work than some would do in the entire day. Not much to look at, she blended into the Edoras populace with her straw-like blonde hair tied back in a bun at the nape of her neck. She was not particularly tall but neither was she particularly short, a tad on the slender side, and already a very slight tan to her skin. Unusually however she was wearing trousers and a shirt, with sturdy boots and a cap on her head, not the regular attire for women of the Rohirrim.
Approaching her seventeenth summer, Freya was the only female working in the stables at Edoras, a job she knew she had been extremely lucky to get. Were it not for the lack of men after the Ring War she certainly never would have secured the position. She had worked in the stables since shortly after the end of the war and her main duties were for the care of her designated stables on the left side of the highest barn up the hill. Freya had just finished mucking out the last of her ten stables and returned her tools to the store area before going to the tack room for breakfast.
Nodding to the other stable hands she grabbed one of the stools that they often sat on when taking care of the many articles of tack stored in the stables and unwrapped a small plain bread roll which she ate quickly. As she ate Freya allowed the conversations of the other stable hands to wash over her as they discussed various things, with the most excitement about the year's foals.
This was the first year of the new breeding programme in Edoras, as the Rohirrim started to plan for the future of their treasured horses. Very few foals had been born the year before as the ring war had taken an enormous toll on the breeding stock of the Rohirrim, but Eomer King had plans to make the Rohirric horses a valuable trading commodity in addition to their value to the Rohirric army and farming. Many of the mares had foaled the month before after eleven months in foal and the stock was promising, with Master of the Horse Wulfstan already deciding which should be shown to the King. Freya often thought that although it was said it was impossible to know everything about horses, the stable master came as close as anybody ever would. He was gruff and could have a temper if the stable hands did not do their work to his satisfaction, but when it came to the horses he seemed to have endless patience and knowledge. Watching him work with them was always a pleasure.
Her roll quickly finished, Freya had a mug of weak ale then returned her stool to the edge of the room and went back into the aisle of the stables. Picking up a box containing one of the many grooming kits she went into the first of her stables and began to groom the bay stallion inside. It was easy to lose herself in the gentle rhythm of grooming. While all stable stains had been brushed out first thing she liked to get her stables mucked out before grooming the horses after breakfast.
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Clean. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Clean.
This particular horse, Firewell, was one of her favourites, belonging to Eothain, head of Eomer King's guard. He had survived the Ring War and was in the prime of his life at eleven years old. Standing a touch under 17hh he was not the prettiest horse, but there was something noble about him, with a small star between his eyes and a snip on his nose. Freya knew that being in charge of this horse was a sign that Wulfstan had faith in her abilities and secretly she was very proud. Only by taking care of the Royal horses could she be more honoured.
The grooming finished, Freya picked out the horse's feet and checked the clenches of his shoes. It would be highly embarrassing for Lord Eothain's horse to lose a shoe when on duty as a result of her failing to notice if he needed to see the blacksmith. All done, she gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck, and smiled slightly as he nudged her pockets.
"My friend, if I didn't know better I would say your master gives you treats" she said to the bay, who it was rumoured was related to Eomer King's Firefoot by the other stable hands. "You should know by now that I do not have anything for you."
Leaving the stall, Freya spent just as much time grooming her other charges, before going back to the tack room to check their tack. Every good Rohirric rider checked his own tack, but Freya took it also as her responsibility, so checked the stitching on every piece of tack at least once a week.
Once morning stable duties were done, Freya was able to leave the stables and walk down the hill to her home. Freya lived with her mother in a small cottage lower down in the city, and was the main breadwinner for the family. Her father had been killed on the Pelennor, and both of her brothers had been lost in the Battle of Helm's Deep, a situation many Rohirric families had found themselves in after the war. Her mother, Freywin, earnt a few coins by doing mending and washing for those who could afford to pay to have it done for them, however this was not a dependable source of income. Freya would spend a few hours helping her mother before going back up the hill to the stables to see to 'her' horses for the night. It was a busy life with very little time for rest and relaxation, but after the war many Rohirrim were still picking up the pieces and getting their lives on track. It would take time, but they would get there.
Author's Note: Well, this is it... the first chapter of my first ever fanfic. Chapters two and three are planned and I hope to write them this weekend. Many thanks for reading.