So I enter the realm of sequels. Yes, with the impending Return of the King
film about to make it's debut, I am becoming very worried about how the
story will be presented. I am in no doubt that it will be the ultimate in
cinematic history, but as for lending it the essence of Middle-earth, I
have my doubts. So, I am consoling myself with a good bout of story writing
for my, and hopefully your, enjoyment.
Disclaimer: Everything here that you recognise from Tolkien's works, including places, names and characters, are not mine, as I wouldn't have a clue what to do with them. Torfi, however, is mine, and is making a comeback from my first ever story, 'Worth More Than Riches'. I do reccomend you read that first though it is not, of course, essential.
*************
"To be loved by a horse, or by any animal, should fill us with awe- for we have not deserved it."
~Marion. C. Garretty~
*************
Even in the later days of autumn, closing in on winter, the Kingdom of Rohan was beautiful. The grey, overcast sky set a stark contrast against the swaying, rippling sea of grass that stretched across the land as far as the eye could see, exquisitely tinted with all imaginable hues of green, ranging from the sun streaked paleness of the taller stalks to the deep jade of the shorter tufts peeping out from beneath their overshadowing companions. The White Mountains usually set a magnificent, sharp-cut horizon, but today their peaks were cloaked in cloud so that they appeared to simply merge into the sky.
The only beings visible on the landscape were making their steady way towards a city vaguely discernable in the distance. One of the figures was very obviously a dwarf, fit and in the prime of life. He was seeingly a traveller, his garb was simple and light, he carried only an axe at his belt, well-crafted and sharp, and on his back was a leather travelling pack.
The other figure was a small, shaggy pony, who followed the Dwarf nose-to- shoulder. It's thick hair was brown, and it's fly-away mane an ebony black. Bright eyes peeped out from beneath a thatch of forelock, it's face split by a crooked white blaze.
They walked on for a while, with the steady, rythmical stride of those who have been travelling long and far, and whose legs were moving with a mind of their own, whilst their thoughts drifted to food and rest. Eventually, the Dwarf stopped and dropped his pack.
"Well, Torfi, my lad," he said, turning to the pony. "We've gone a good step today, a good step too far, my legs are telling me." The pony tossed his head and nudged the Dwarf's chest. "You're tired!" he exclaimed. "Well, my lad, at least you have four legs, all of which are a good deal longer than mine. And I didn't ride you today- too nice for my own good. The Elf is a bad influence." With that, he sat down on the ground and opened his pack. Torfi dropped his head and nosed towards him, and as soon as he caught his chance, his ferreting nose disappeared inside his companion's pack. Ignoring his master's exclamation, the pony refused to withdraw his nose until he had found his bounty. He retreated at last, a rosy red apple in his teeth.
Gimli- for that was the Dwarf's name- rolled his eyes at his pony. "If it weren't for the fact that I was so tired and that apple belonged to you anyway, I would be angry." His voice was threatening, but his eyes sparkled. Torfi's nostrils fluttered his disbelief at the Dwarf's words.
"Talking to horses..." Gimli muttered to himself as he struck a fire with flint and tinder. "Soon I shall be singing to the trees and finding my words roaming off into a foreign language." His supplies were getting low, he noted. He had perhaps enough for another day, so he would just have to hope that he would reach Edoras, the capital city of Rohan, by tomorrow evening. When he had finished his meager supper, he lay down and rested his head on his pack, gazing upwards at the stars. He smiled to himself, remembering his friend Legolas's attempts to teach him the Elvish constellations. Gimli remembered them all perfectly, but by feigning a complete inability to grasp Legolas's teachings, Gimli had succeeded in irritating the Elf.
"If every Master were to have a student as infuriating as you, then it is a wonder that anyone anywhere is being taught at all!" he had cried eventually, throwing up his hands, even more put out by Gimli's snickering.
After a while, Gimli drifted into a doze, that remarkable phase when one hovers between sleep and wakefulness. The cool autumn air had a distinct chill, and he was glad of his blanket. Torfi stood close to him, and the creak of his joints as he shifted slightly and the swish of his tail were loud noises in the still night, accompanied only by the rustle of the grass as the breeze stirred through it.
When morning came, sharp-aired and grey, Gimli woke refreshed. Looking about, he saw that Torfi had wandered a little way and was grazing at his leisure. There was a thick blanket of mist low on the ground that morning, and there was a definite chill in the air. The grass and Torfi's coat were netted with dew, and when Gimli drew close to his pony to bridle him, he shook his mane hard, showering his master with water. If a pony could have snickered, this one certainly would have been doing so.
"Off with you!" Gimli exclaimed, stepping away. "Now what was that for, eh? Start showing some respect, Torfi, my lad, else all the rest of these here apples will be mine and mine alone!" At that, Torfi dropped his shaggy head and peered balefully at Gimli from beneath his scruffy forelock. Gimli sighed, and quickly pulled the supple, worn leather bridle over his pony's head, before trussing his pack and slinging it over his broad shoulders.
"We should do a good step today," he told Torfi, vaulting onto his back. "Which means, unfortunately, that I shall have to ride you, as it will be far quicker." Torfi shook his mane and set off at a brisk walk, his head high and ears pricked, his nostrils fluttering as he took in the crisp morning air. The clouds were too low for Gimli's liking; they gave the omnious feeling of rain, and soon he urged Torfi to a trot. Edoras was still too far away and, though the Dwarf would rather cut off his beard than admit it, he was beginning to long for company, particularly that of a certain Elf. He shook his head quickly, driving those thoughts away. He sat deep into his pony's back and pushed him onto into a canter. The autumnal feeling in the air was making the old pony fresh, and he gave a joyous half- buck before falling into pace. A few months ago, this would have terrified Gimli, but now he was used to the pony's ways and just kicked him onwards.
*************
Ah, the joy of short chapters! Can you believe it took me three months to write this much? But there we are- business comes first! For those who asked after 'Riches', my youngster is coming on brilliantly, and much better than I expected. Soon, when the nice weather comes back, I should be able to work on my writing a little more. The next chapter will be a lot longer, and I promise a lot more drama than in 'Riches'.
Thanks ever so much for reading. I love you all!
~Shieldmaiden~
Disclaimer: Everything here that you recognise from Tolkien's works, including places, names and characters, are not mine, as I wouldn't have a clue what to do with them. Torfi, however, is mine, and is making a comeback from my first ever story, 'Worth More Than Riches'. I do reccomend you read that first though it is not, of course, essential.
*************
"To be loved by a horse, or by any animal, should fill us with awe- for we have not deserved it."
~Marion. C. Garretty~
*************
Even in the later days of autumn, closing in on winter, the Kingdom of Rohan was beautiful. The grey, overcast sky set a stark contrast against the swaying, rippling sea of grass that stretched across the land as far as the eye could see, exquisitely tinted with all imaginable hues of green, ranging from the sun streaked paleness of the taller stalks to the deep jade of the shorter tufts peeping out from beneath their overshadowing companions. The White Mountains usually set a magnificent, sharp-cut horizon, but today their peaks were cloaked in cloud so that they appeared to simply merge into the sky.
The only beings visible on the landscape were making their steady way towards a city vaguely discernable in the distance. One of the figures was very obviously a dwarf, fit and in the prime of life. He was seeingly a traveller, his garb was simple and light, he carried only an axe at his belt, well-crafted and sharp, and on his back was a leather travelling pack.
The other figure was a small, shaggy pony, who followed the Dwarf nose-to- shoulder. It's thick hair was brown, and it's fly-away mane an ebony black. Bright eyes peeped out from beneath a thatch of forelock, it's face split by a crooked white blaze.
They walked on for a while, with the steady, rythmical stride of those who have been travelling long and far, and whose legs were moving with a mind of their own, whilst their thoughts drifted to food and rest. Eventually, the Dwarf stopped and dropped his pack.
"Well, Torfi, my lad," he said, turning to the pony. "We've gone a good step today, a good step too far, my legs are telling me." The pony tossed his head and nudged the Dwarf's chest. "You're tired!" he exclaimed. "Well, my lad, at least you have four legs, all of which are a good deal longer than mine. And I didn't ride you today- too nice for my own good. The Elf is a bad influence." With that, he sat down on the ground and opened his pack. Torfi dropped his head and nosed towards him, and as soon as he caught his chance, his ferreting nose disappeared inside his companion's pack. Ignoring his master's exclamation, the pony refused to withdraw his nose until he had found his bounty. He retreated at last, a rosy red apple in his teeth.
Gimli- for that was the Dwarf's name- rolled his eyes at his pony. "If it weren't for the fact that I was so tired and that apple belonged to you anyway, I would be angry." His voice was threatening, but his eyes sparkled. Torfi's nostrils fluttered his disbelief at the Dwarf's words.
"Talking to horses..." Gimli muttered to himself as he struck a fire with flint and tinder. "Soon I shall be singing to the trees and finding my words roaming off into a foreign language." His supplies were getting low, he noted. He had perhaps enough for another day, so he would just have to hope that he would reach Edoras, the capital city of Rohan, by tomorrow evening. When he had finished his meager supper, he lay down and rested his head on his pack, gazing upwards at the stars. He smiled to himself, remembering his friend Legolas's attempts to teach him the Elvish constellations. Gimli remembered them all perfectly, but by feigning a complete inability to grasp Legolas's teachings, Gimli had succeeded in irritating the Elf.
"If every Master were to have a student as infuriating as you, then it is a wonder that anyone anywhere is being taught at all!" he had cried eventually, throwing up his hands, even more put out by Gimli's snickering.
After a while, Gimli drifted into a doze, that remarkable phase when one hovers between sleep and wakefulness. The cool autumn air had a distinct chill, and he was glad of his blanket. Torfi stood close to him, and the creak of his joints as he shifted slightly and the swish of his tail were loud noises in the still night, accompanied only by the rustle of the grass as the breeze stirred through it.
When morning came, sharp-aired and grey, Gimli woke refreshed. Looking about, he saw that Torfi had wandered a little way and was grazing at his leisure. There was a thick blanket of mist low on the ground that morning, and there was a definite chill in the air. The grass and Torfi's coat were netted with dew, and when Gimli drew close to his pony to bridle him, he shook his mane hard, showering his master with water. If a pony could have snickered, this one certainly would have been doing so.
"Off with you!" Gimli exclaimed, stepping away. "Now what was that for, eh? Start showing some respect, Torfi, my lad, else all the rest of these here apples will be mine and mine alone!" At that, Torfi dropped his shaggy head and peered balefully at Gimli from beneath his scruffy forelock. Gimli sighed, and quickly pulled the supple, worn leather bridle over his pony's head, before trussing his pack and slinging it over his broad shoulders.
"We should do a good step today," he told Torfi, vaulting onto his back. "Which means, unfortunately, that I shall have to ride you, as it will be far quicker." Torfi shook his mane and set off at a brisk walk, his head high and ears pricked, his nostrils fluttering as he took in the crisp morning air. The clouds were too low for Gimli's liking; they gave the omnious feeling of rain, and soon he urged Torfi to a trot. Edoras was still too far away and, though the Dwarf would rather cut off his beard than admit it, he was beginning to long for company, particularly that of a certain Elf. He shook his head quickly, driving those thoughts away. He sat deep into his pony's back and pushed him onto into a canter. The autumnal feeling in the air was making the old pony fresh, and he gave a joyous half- buck before falling into pace. A few months ago, this would have terrified Gimli, but now he was used to the pony's ways and just kicked him onwards.
*************
Ah, the joy of short chapters! Can you believe it took me three months to write this much? But there we are- business comes first! For those who asked after 'Riches', my youngster is coming on brilliantly, and much better than I expected. Soon, when the nice weather comes back, I should be able to work on my writing a little more. The next chapter will be a lot longer, and I promise a lot more drama than in 'Riches'.
Thanks ever so much for reading. I love you all!
~Shieldmaiden~
