A/N: This was orignially written for a competition some years ago on the Lotrplaza where we should make a song about the Mark. I have done some rewriting since then, and some re-structuring, but basicly it is the same. I wanted to make something a bard from the Rittermark would or could have made, that is why I choose to use alliteration, though it makes it more of a narrtive poem than a song. It is meant to be recited, not sung, but with the audience joining the little courus. I am avare that allitrative poetry usually do not have a courus, but I have made my own rules for the meter here.
I would love to get some feed-back on this, it might help me make the second song (already written) better.
Edit: A big "thank you" to MerryKK that pointed out some grammar/ spelling mistakes. I have fixed them now
Edit 2: I recently looked at this again and saw to my great embarrassment that I had spelled Felaróf's name wrong! I have fixed it now.
Diclaimer: I do own a horse, but it is not Felaróf. Nor do I own anything else that Tolkien made.
The Taming of Felaróf
Horsemasters hear the legend of our horses!
Silence your speech, to my story give ear.
I will tell a tale of Eorl the Young,
The lord that first lead us to this land.
Swiftly under the sinking sun
Over high hills the hunters rode,
Pursuing their prey, the proud stallion.
First in the flock came Eorl the Young
He sought the steed that slew his sire,
His fury flaming hot for his father's death,
In wrath he rode to be revenged.
Never resting, ever running
Forth the fast hunters flew,
The Manbane ever before them.
The hooves of the horses hit the grass,
Trampling the ground like roaring thunder,
Running wild with thundering wrath,
They drove him down into deep valleys,
Up high hillsides they hunted the horse,
Ever on and on till the sun sank
The Riders rode. As the moon rose
Under dark skies they drove him on.
Never resting, ever running,
Forth the fast hunters flew,
The Manbane ever before them.
Fleeing fast to preserve his freedom
The horse ran quickly, racing the Riders.
Eorl was ever ahead of his men:
"Ride!" he cried. "Ride! The race's not ended,
Felaróf, the noble foal, shall not run free.
The long leagues of the land will not prevent his capture,
Compensation I'll demand from the killer of my kin!"
Then spoke the men: "The slayer of our lord shall not escape!
We will not grow weary of the hunt till we have vanquished our foe.
Lead us, son of Léod; he will not elude us long!"
Never resting, ever running
Forth the fast hunters flew,
The Manbane ever before them.
That first night they came not near him,
At the dawning of the day doubt sized them,
For their prey had parted with them, the proud hunters
Could not find the footprints of the foal;
The horse's hooves had not left any mark on the hard stone.
As they searched the slopes for signs of the steed's flight
A cry called the hunters: "Come all! To me!
Waste no more time on tracks: to me! Come all!
The stallion is spotted, swiftly running from us; come!"
All the hunters heard the high voice of Eorl,
Young and clear it called them to him,
On a bare hill he had seen the bane of his father,
In haste the hunt of the horse continued.
That day they drove him down form the hills,
Fleeing the hunters he found the forest,
Disappearing in the dusk under the dark trees.
Still the son would not cease the search
Nor rest. In wrath he rode on through the night.
As the sun burst in eastern flame, the foal broke free from the forest;
He was like a white sail over a green sea sailing.
His speed helped him escape the hunters hot on his trail.
From dawn to dusk they drove him before them,
From the setting sun till sunrise they pursued him
Till the endless hunt was all they ever thought of,
Till their world was nothing but the wild chasing,
On and on and on rode Eorl,
Never resting, ever running,
Forth the fast hunter flew;
The Manbane ever before him.
After days the strength of the stallion was spent;
The hard hunt had taken its toil.
Fearless it faced its relentless foes
That had brought it to bay and bent its strength.
Still proud, hooves pawing at the pursuers,
It awaited the vengeance that would come.
The horses of the hunters stood with lowered heads
As the son of Léod leapt from the saddle.
One hunter brought a bow to the bold youth
And gave an arrow to the Éothéod's young lord,
But gazing at the great steed he refused the offered gift.
"Manbane!" he called. "Murderer of my father!
Wild-runner, wind-chaser, wide-roaming horse!
You loved your free life on the sweet grasslands,
I blame you not for breaking free from your bonds;
Your freedom you treasured, in that I find no fault,
But compensation I will have for the killing of my kin;
Payment you must give for the proud prince's death.
Surrender your free spirit and serve me from this day,
Give up your freedom and follow me, foal.
This weregild you will give me, great-hearted horse,
From this day to your death-day, then my loss is repaid."
The horse tossed his head; one hoof beat the ground,
But Eorl stood still and moved not form the spot,
He awaited the answer of the wild beast,
With his hand stayed his men so the steed could decide.
Calmly the horse came to his hand
And surrendered his free spirit to Léod's son.
From that day to his death he served the strong lord,
But his pride was not broken, he obeyed no others
And no man could mount him but Eorl the Young.
Thus came Felaróf the free to the first Lord of the Mark
And the mearas has ever been the mounts of Eorl's kin.
My story has ceased, your speech you may resume,
I have told the tale of the taming of Felaróf,
The story's tread spun and laid out before you;
Here ending the legend of Eorl the Young,
The lord that first led us to this land.