Dun dun dun! The Spin Off has arrived!

InChrist-Billios has been amazing enough to allow my rookie hands to type up a plot of my own invention with her wonderful character Faidn and his family.

In this particular chapter, I do not own a single character of consequence. Except maybe the horse.

Check out Billios' latest work, 'I Do, But That's It', which takes place in the same time frame as this story.

Read on, if you are daring! Or even if your not. And try to enjoy.

"Then I must have a steed on land," I said, "and a steed surpassingly swift, for I have never had such need for haste before."

—from The Lord of The Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien

Faidn gripped Emers' black mane until his hands hurt. His father had hold of her bridle and was leading them to the twine stretched across the track as a makeshift starting line.

"Remember," Hollen was saying, glancing up at his only son, "this won't be at all like the racing we used to do in Venshire. These are rough men, on rough horses, probably all having a run of tougher luck than we are."

Faidn glanced at an unshaven man on a powerful-looking chestnut. The man had rouge's murder for eyes. Faidn turned his attention back to what his father was saying.

"So be careful. If they can reach you, they'll try to knock you out of the race-physically. Emer's probably the only filly out here, and the smallest by far, so they'll try to bully her around. She has the speed, so get out front and stay there. Watch your opponents, don't let them sneak up on you. Don't get boxed in, you'll never make it out. Any misunderstandings?"

"Take the lead, keep the lead, and don't get killed." Faidn replied as they reached the twine. He felt Emer's nervousness in the tremble of her taut muscles, and tightened his hands accordingly as she tried to start forward.

"Basically." Hollen smiled grimly, "You know I'd be on her if I could, but I'm too heavy. We wouldn't have a chance with my bulk on her."

"Even so," Faidn added, "I seem to be the largest rider out here."

Hollen glanced at some of the other jockeys. Taking a swill of gin he shrugged,

"Not really. Tallest certainly, but you haven't filled out yet. You all set?"

Faidn eyed the metal canteen his father clutched with hidden disapproval. Whatever had been bothering his father over the past several days had driven him back into his old habit of drinking.

"Yes sir. I'll be careful, we'll be fast. Anything else?"

"Win." added Hollen sternly, "We can't afford to lose."

Faidn raised an eyebrow and patted Emer thoughtfully. He hadn't known his father was betting on them. Hollen turned and moved off the track, calling back over his shoulder:

"And whatever happens, don't let your mama know."

Faidn rolled his eyes, shouting as a nearby gelding nearly crashed into his mount.

"Easy, Emer," he murmured to his steed, trying his best to keep both of them out of harm's way.

The gelding was a huge dark bay, Faidn's experienced eyes measured him up to be about seventeen hands. Big enough to squash the petite Emer into a pastry. While the rider on the bay struggled to keep his horse under control, Faidn sized up the competition. The bay next to him was the largest, he could also see a golden palomino that he judged to be fairly swift. He was certain he could hold his own against the rough crowd, but the short, stocky, ill-looking man on the chestnut had him intimidated. When the flag was dropped, Emer, with Faidn on her back, sprang forward like a doe out of a trap. They managed to scrape out the lead position, and tore away down the wide path, scared hearts pumping in unison.

Faidn glanced back over his shoulder to see how much lead they had. The palomino was right along Emer's right flank, the bay just behind. Both their riders gave him looks of ill intent.

"More like a fox hunt then a race," Faidn gasped to Emer, pushing her forward, "And we're the vermin."

A few moments more, and the palomino was right alongside them, pushing them to the outside. Emer lengthened her stride as much as she could, her eyes wild with fear. She was certainly not used to situations like this. The palomino was tiring, they were on the last stretch, and pulling ahead.

"We've got it." he whispered, relaxing, and leaning back.

Suddenly, there was a flash of color beside them, and Faidn discovered himself not only trying to ride a frightened mare at top speed, but struggling with another rider who was attempting to knock him to the ground. He found himself yelling, though it wasn't doing much good. They were only seconds away from the finish line, when the savage blows took their toll, and Faidn fell violently onto the hard packed earth. He rolled instinctively away from the pounding hooves, and lay gasping and stunned in the grass. Emer crossed the finish line first, but it didn't matter. They were disqualified. Faidn hadn't remembered the chestnut and his rider until it was too late. Half of him didn't care; he really hadn't felt like racing. The the other half felt terrible for his backside once his father was done with him. He heard the ferocious stamp of Hollen's boots, and struggled to his feet.

"How dare you!" his father yelled, and Faidn could smell the alcohol on his breath, "How dare you take it easy in the last stretch! You were almost there, and you blew it!"

"Yeah, well I didn't want to ride your stupid race anyway." Faidn gasped honestly between heavy breaths, green eyes dark with embarrassment.

Furious, Hollen raised his hand to strike his son, and Faidn's left arm came up to block it.

When the two collided, the boy let out a scream louder then the crowd's roar. He bent over in pain, tears leaping to his eyes.

"What's the matter with you, boy? Huh?" Hollen demanded angrily. Faidn was too pained to realize that his father's anger wasn't directed towards him.

"Oh, my arm!" he gasped, settling down a little, "I think I broke it in the fall."

"Probably, knowing you."

Broken bones were a common occurrence for the men in the O'Neil family.

"Let me catch Emer before some horse thief does," Hollen said, heaving a sigh, "and we'll get home."

Faidn felt along his arm tenderly, trying to decide how bad the break was. It wasn't good. He groaned a little, but growing accustomed to the pain, was silent. He watched his father's retreating form, half-hating the man, and almost smiled when he heard him mutter:

"No hiding this from Liza."

There it is for the first chapter. Final word count is 1009.

Oh, the T rating is just to be safe. Hopefully it won't be necessary.

Love to know your opinion, and you can certainly influence this story with it!

Root Beer floats to reviewers!