The fires that had burned over night throughout the field of battle had gone out, but the midday sky was grey with cloud and remnants of smoke. Daenir had woken just after sunrise, so by the time it was high noon and his sister hadn't seen to the horses, he was beginning to worry. He found her in one of the tents, sleeping like the dead in her bedroll. She was so still that he feared she had succumbed to something in the night, but after shaking her for a minute she snapped awake.
"Is it my watch?" She mumbled, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.
"No," Daenir laughed. "But everyone is awake."
"What is the time?"
"Past noon," He said, walking to the door of the tent. "Someone is waiting for you, says he wants oats and hay."
Daeril groggily got up and dressed, then left the tent. She hadn't slept that deeply in days, and waking up was not an easy task. It being daylight made everything all the more confusing. Rocky was munching on grass in the small corral they had set up, standing next to a stunning grey horse that dwarfed him in comparison. A satchel of grain in hand, she went in with the horses, ignoring the other steeds who were now very interested in what she carried. Rocky did not lift his head up, instead turning so his hind end faced his rider, continuing to consume his precious green grass.
"Fine, if you don't want this, someone else will enjoy it."
The grey walked over to her and sniffed at the grain bag, and she got a better look at him. He was not one of the Ranger's horses, that was for certain. His coat was too clean, and not rough like all of theirs were. He was a stallion, she could tell without inspecting underneath, his thickly crested neck was a dead giveaway. His coloring was the most beautiful grey Daeril had ever seen on a horse, and seemed to shine like silver when the light touched him. His eye was soft and kind, and he turned his head to examine her more with one of them. Deeming her not a threat, he lowered his head, extending his nose towards her once more.
"You are beautiful," She told him, holding out her hand. He sniffed it, and came in closer. Knowing he wouldn't run off or bite her, she stroked his forehead, marveling in how smooth his coat was. Daeril reached into the grain bag, holding out a handful for the kind stallion. He gently ate it right out of her palm, snorting his gratitude when he had finished.
Rocky's attention had now been drawn to his girl, who was feeding his grain to the newcomer stallion. He walked over, nudging Daeril in the shoulder, then nipping at her arm. Daeril yelped, turning to scold Rocky, but apparently the grey horse had already taken care of it. Rocky squealed as the stallion bit him on his withers, and then settled down, dropping his head to wait patiently for the food to be offered to him. Satisfied her horse wouldn't try anything stupid again, she poured some grain onto the ground, letting Rocky graze it.
"You're a good lad," Daeril told the silver stallion, stroking his great neck. "Someone could use some lessons on being a proper horse from you!"
Daenir stood at attention as Aragorn and Mithrandir emerged from the large tent, followed by Éomer King, Prince Imrahil and their captains. They had been in talks all day, and it seemed by the determination in their steps that they had finally come to a decision on the war ahead. Daenir bowed, not to Aragorn who was not yet king and likely would castrate him if he did so, but to Éomer the young, and new, King of Rohan.
"Daenir, I have a task for you." Aragorn said, leaving Mithrandir's side.
"Anything, my lord." He replied.
"We set out for the Black Gate in two days," He explained. "I know not how many fighting men we can muster in that time. Many were killed or are wounded. I need you to bring word to the messengers of this city, to muster all who are able and willing to join ranks for one final march."
"Aye, my lord."
"Daeril, tolo hí!" Aragorn called.
Daeril, who speaking was speaking with Mithrandir, obeyed, coming to her leader's side.
"Yes, my lord?"
"I need you to go with King Eomer. The Rohirrim are rounding up riderless horses on the battlefield. Find any that can still be used, we have need of many."
"Aye, sir."
"Take Roheryn, he is already saddled."
Daeril bowed to the young king of Rohan when she approached him readying his own horse.
"I fear I will never grow accustomed to that," He laughed, mounting Firefoot.
"I'm sure it will grow on you, my King."
Daeril mounted Roheryn, noting the stirrups were just slightly too long for her. She was tall, for a woman, but nowhere near Aragorn's height. Roheryn began to walk at a slight squeeze of her legs, and she took off with Éomer and his men. Roheryn was a smoother ride than her own horse, and she knew she need not fear him spooking or bolting for anything.
Even a day later, the battlefield was still smokey in some parts where flames had been doused. There had been pyres burning through the night, sending off the remains of many who had perished in the battle. The bodies of the enemy had been put in separate piles, and disposed of a bit less ceremoniously. Corpses of fallen horses, mumakil, and trolls still littered the field, waiting to be moved once enough people had the strength to get back to work. The air was still heavy with grief and exhaustion, but slowly the call to the next battle was spreading and hope was kindling.
Soon they were joined by more Rohirrim, coming from all angles. Éomer King ordered everyone to spread out, combing the entire field of battle. There were loose horses all over, and they had only to form a line of sorts and herd them. Slowly the horses were gathered, first only seven, and then a dozen, and by the time they reached the Quays on the far side of the battlefield, they had seventy head. A corral was hastily put together, and the riders trickled out until only the horses were inside, kept from wandering off again.
Éomer was speaking to his troops in their own language, of which she understood not one word. She waited patiently for more orders, watching a majority of the men ride off while a few stayed back. The king laughed when he saw Daeril's lack of comprehension.
"My apologies, Lady Daeril, I mistook you for one of my men. You make a fine Rohirrim."
"I am honored that you think so," She laughed.
"This herd should do. my men will bring those who are horseless to choose their new mounts. Some of these are horses of this city and not ideal, but in times like these we cannot be picky."
It was true that the Rohirrim valued their own horses higher than all others, and theirs were amazing, but horses are still horses. Her own was of unknown breeding and rather unremarkable at first glance, but he had more heart than horses double his size. She stroked Roheryn's dark mane, thankful that he had carried her without incident. Soon he would be carrying the King of Gondor into battle, and he would continue to behave admirably. Rocky, on the other hand...
"If I have your leave, my King, I believe I should be getting back to camp."
"Hm?" Éomer had been staring out at the battlefield, lost in thought. "King? Oh... right, yes. Beric will escort you back to your encampment. I must ready my men for our march."
The King of Rohan took his leave, and his captain, Beric, rode forward towards Daeril.
"I can find my way back, you do not need to escort me," She told him.
"Nobody should be on this field alone. One of our men was attacked only this morning by a seemingly dead uruk."
"Oh. That is comforting."
The two began the long ride back towards the encampment outside the city in companionable silence. Soon another rider joined them.
"I see you've found yourself another mount!"
"Aldrych!" Daeril smiled. "This is Lord Aragorn's horse, I am only borrowing him."
"I am glad you have not given up on your own," He said. "And you have met my son!"
Beric's chestnut warsteed began moving at a faster clip.
"I did not know that Beric was your son," Daeril said, keeping pace with Aldrych and letting Beric go ahead. Now that she saw them near each other, she could see the resemblance between the older and younger men. Aldrych's hair and beard were dark blonde with a lot of white, but despite being older he was strong and stern. Beric had a golden mess of hair tied up under his helm and a week-old beard, but Daeril could tell he was attractive under the post-battle grime.
"Do you ride with us tomorrow?" Aldrych asked.
"I will follow my chieftain wherever he may go. And if that is Mordor, than so I shall."
"You do not sound afraid."
"I will be when I see that gate," She shivered. "Right now it seems so far away. I hope it doesn't live up to how I imagine it to be."
"What do you think it looks like?" Beric asked from just ahead of them.
"Black iron. Spikes on the top. Guarded by all manner of orc and beast. Fire, possibly."
"I'm sure you have the color right." Beric chortled. "I don't think there would be spikes, however... who would even think of climbing over?"
"That is true."
"Well, when we reach the gate we will see," Aldrych said. "And if Lady Daeril is correct, you owe her a drink."
"And if I'm wrong?"
"Then you owe me two," Beric smirked.
They reached the Dunedain camp, and the two Rohirrim took their leave. Daeril took Roheryn's tack off, then returned him to the corral, where he gratefully went right to the pile of fresh hay. Rocky waked over, rubbing his head against Daeril's chest before going to push Roheryn away from his hay. The young Dundedan sighed at the foolish gelding, then left them to sort out their own grievances.
"Where have you been?" Thannor asked as Daeril sat next to him by the fire.
"On an errand," She replied, helping herself to some of the freshly cooked meat. "Where were you?"
"The city, fetching armor," He replied, gesturing to one of the supply tents. "If you need anything, best raid what we have before everything good is gone."
"Mine is good enough," She said. "Gondorian armor seems quite... heavy."
"Yes, it is. Shiny though. At least I'll look nice when I die."
"We're not going to die, Thannor."
"We're marching on Mordor, young one. Our odds for survival are slim."
"You're quite the optimist."
Thannor laughed half-heartedly.
"There is hope we make it through, but I'm trying to come to peace with things. Best prepare for the worst and hope for the best."
The dawn brought with it a sense of trepidation, yet there was a faint glimmer of hope. Aragorn seemed to have risen before anyone, and was already suited for battle. Daeril was taken aback by how different he looked dressed in livery of Gondor, the white tree emblazoned on his chest and the finest armor and cloth she had ever seen him wear. He looked like a king.
Soon everyone was scrambling, readying horses and getting into armor, loading supplies into saddle bags and sharpening swords last minute. Daeril quickly donned her armor, checking it over for any missing links or weak points. Satisfied it would protect her, she moved on to preparing her horse.
"Rocky, I promise if we get through this, you will get to live the rest of your life in a field," She told him as she cinched his saddle. "And you can have all the mares you could ever dream of."
Rocky turned to nip her as she tightened the girth.
"Fine, no mares then."
Already the armies were assembling on the Pellenor Fields. The Dunedain were to ride in the Vanguard, along with Aragorn and Gandalf, leading thousands of men of Gondor and Rohan. Daeril's anxiety was growing taking in the massive force they had assembled. The Paths of the Dead was the scariest thing she had ever done, and the following battle was a blur... but this felt different. The darkness in the East was foreboding beyond belief, and they were heading straight for it. She rode over to the rest of her kin, coming to the side of Daenir. He had been speaking to Elrohir, and looked up as his sister approached.
"You do not have to join us, if you wish to stay behind," He said. "Nobody will begrudge you for it."
"So can you, brother."
"My place is here."
"As is mine," She pulled on Rocky's reins as he dropped his head to graze. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
The Dunedain took their place in the formation on the field, and with the morning sun shining brightly on thousands of spears all around them, they followed Aragorn, their King, marching onward to Mordor.
A/N: I am back from camp! My pony enjoyed being with me for a couple weeks (i'm in the military and don't get to see him often), and I even came home with another horse! My boy is a 28 year old former dressage champ, and his new little sister is a 9 year old western trained registered quarter horse... very excited to have two awesome horses! Fortunately they are both better behaved than Rocky ;) I hope to start posting more often now that I'm back in civilization. Thanks for reading, please review!