Éomer did not come the next morning. The stable boy was forced to work up the courage to throw some hay into the pen. I believe he was supposed to clean it as well, but the child was too frightened to enter and scurried off the moment he could. To my credit, I did not threaten him in any way, partially because I was very tired and sore from the day before, and partially because I was actually deep in thought. It was an odd feeling, to be thinking rationally for hours on end without feeling the need to express my rage at the race of men.
Éomer had finally understood me, and I him. I wondered what had caused this sudden breakthrough. Had he really opened up his mind, or had my mind in its drugged state enhanced my communication abilities? If that was so, would I be able to talk to him again, and would he understand me? If I could now communicate with a man, I would have to decide if I still hated people. I decided that I did. But did I hate Éomer? I wasn't so sure.
I wondered why he hadn't come this morning. Yesterday he had spent the day catching up on missed work and practices, but he had stopped by in the morning to provide me with fresh hay. Perhaps he was discouraged, convinced that he would make no progress after the events of yesterday. Perhaps he was in some sort of trouble. Maybe he was shaken from hearing me speak and wanted nothing more to do with me. I couldn't really blame him, but I hoped he would come back.
When I realized that perhaps I did like Éomer, or at least was willing to give him half a chance, I was mildly shocked. I had, after all, spent most of my life believing I hated men, and that men hated me.
I was startled from my musing by a sound behind me. I jumped and whirled to face the possible threat, only to find Éomer watching me quietly from the other side of the fence. I wondered how long he had been there. I didn't not like being snuck up on. For a moment we both stood still, each waiting for the other to say or do something.
It was Éomer who first broke the silence. "Firefoot, they tell me you are not acting yourself today," he said. I stared at him, and Éomer continued, "The stable boy claims he managed to put hay in here without you so much as pinning you ears."
I had an urge to tell Éomer that the stable boy lied, and that I had in fact, ripped his arm clean off, but I felt that he would not appreciate it. I waited for Éomer to continue.
"I don't understand you, Firefoot," he continued, "Any other horse would be either acting more violent toward humans, or would have been broken by yesterday's events, and you are neither. And then I could have sworn you spoke, but such a thing is not possible." He shrugged and climbed though the fence. "I do not know what to do with you, Firefoot. You are not like any horse I have ever met before."
That, Éomer, is because I am not your average horse. I am different, I told him.
Éomer visibly jumped. "You, you spoke!" he exclaimed, startled.
Yes, I have spoken, but it is nothing new. I have been speaking for years. What is new is that you understand me. Éomer was now gaping unashamedly at me. Now, are you going to close that mouth of yours, or are you going to say 'I must be going mad' again? I said, annoyed.
The mouth shut. Clearly trying to pretend that talking to horses were perfectly normal, every day occurrences, (and failing miserably) Éomer eventually worked up the courage to ask, "Can you speak to other people?"
I considered my response carefully. I don't know weather you are the only two- legger I can speak to, or if others simply cannot hear me, I told him. As an after thought I added, I do understand all men though.
"You understand the speech of men, yet none could train you! How could this be?" asked Éomer, forgetting, or perhaps not realizing, that this could be insulting.
I felt rage at his ignorance. I have never been very patient. I reared. It can be, Lord Éomer, I shouted at him, because I am not some slave to do man's bidding! Poor Éomer was cringing as he attempted to cover his ears, but my voice was in his head, so his hands did not help at all. I am a thinking horse, which no one has yet realized. I do not take to being ordered about any more than a freeman! I am not 'untrainable' because I do not understand, I am 'untrainable' because I do not like men, because I do not trust men, and because I find the lot of them are simpletons! Not once has any of these 'trainers' dared to think outside the box, or to try something new, something that has not been tried by someone before them!
Stunned, Éomer stared at me, "Firefoot you hurt my head," he groaned.
I do not care, I told him angrily. The man winced.
"I apologize for my ignorance," he said, once he had recovered, "but perhaps you have not given Men a fair chance. The Men of the Rohirim love their horses almost as their children."
That may so, I told him, but that does not mean that they respect their horses as thinking beings. A parent may love his child, but as the child grows, the parent may not respect the child's opinions and ideas. It is the lack of respect that has driven many a father and son apart.
Éomer stared at me, lost for words. Evidently, a talking horse was quite a shock for his system, but a talking horse that was (at the very least) as smart as the average man was just a little too much to handle. I waited for him to say something, but he simply stood there, probably trying to work out the situation.
When I tired of waiting, I moved away and went back the scattered remains of my hay and set to work on picking up all the little stems and leaves. There were quite a lot of them, as I had the tendency to spread my hay ration everywhere before eating it. So I really had about half of the hay left. It gave me something to do, as eating hay that was everywhere was more time consuming than eating it out of a nice, neat pile. It was also much more challenging to eat hay in this fashion.
When I snuck a look at Éomer, he was sitting on the ground near the fence, head in his hands, looking rather ill.
Now, I rarely experience headaches, and I did not experience my first one until much later, when Éomer and I were doing some experimenting. But that does not come into the story until later. Éomer on the other hand (or hoof) seemed to develop headaches constantly on a fairly random basis.
At the time, though I had no idea what was wrong with the man, just that he was acting very strangely, completely different from what he was like previously. He was acting different than any other man I had ever encountered, actually. I absently wondered if this was how Éomer felt around me. It was a disturbing thought.
I was beginning to wonder if Éomer was going to move, or just sit there all day, or what he was doing. Then I remembered that I could just ask him. I could have hit myself. If I had hands, that is.
Ummm… what are you doing? I asked.
Éomer looked up. "I am waiting for the herd of horses in my head to stop galloping and calm down," he replied.
Ouch. Maybe I had hurt his head with my screaming. I felt twinge of guilt. Did I do that?
"I believe so."
Sorry about-
"Don't. Say anything."
I must have hurt his head more than I though when I had lost my temper at him. I hoped it wasn't permanent. It seemed as if my just talking was overloading his brain and making it hurt more. I wondered if I should be doing something, but I had no idea what that something would be.
Eventually he must have started feeling slightly better, or else summed up the energy, because he managed to stand, inform me that he was departing, and walk back towards the hall. I didn't realize it at the time, but Éomer adjusted to me fairly well, much better than I would have done if, say, I found the barn cats suddenly able to converse one morning. Figuring that Éomer would be feeling better in the morning, I went back to my hay.
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So, what do you think? Please leave a review, with your comments, suggestions, complaints, threats….. Well, threats aren't THAT welcome.
For those of you who want longer chapters, I have obliged. This chapter is at least 200 words longer than the last one. (Just the text.) Yes, it isn't THAT much longer, but it IS an improvement, right? I will continue to work on making chapters longer…
I also made an effort to have more paragraphs, with fewer lines per paragraph.