Authors Note: Before anyone asks just what I think I'm doing, let's just
say that I have absolutely no idea. Anyway, this story is set a couple of
years after the War of the Ring, and is set in Rohan. So, I'm not going to
beg for reviews in any way. If you like my story, I hope that you will
review, and leave constructive comments which I trust that you will have.
If you detest my story and wish that I would go to hell and burn slowly and
painfully, then please don't tell me so. I believe that that will happen
anyway without you wishing it upon me also.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, Gimli, Legolas, Éomer, Rohan, or anything else recognisable from Tolkien's work. They all belong to him. He is God. I do, however, own Torfi, which is an old Norse name, and since the Rohirrim are rather Nordic people, and so are Dwarves, I thought the name would be good for that character, who I am rather fond of.
*************
The sight of that pony did something to me I've never quite been able to explain. He was more than tremendous strength and speed and beauty of motion. He set me dreaming...
~Walt Morey~
*************
"Éomer, I do not think that this is a good idea."
"Legolas, the best thing for one's fears is to overcome them! Avoiding the object of one's fear only makes it worse when confronted with it!" Éomer proclaimed enthusiastically, spreading his arms wide to emphasise his point. Legolas merely shook his nut-brown hair, staring into his wine.
"It's not as if he *does* avoid his fears, though. He rides upon Arod and Firefoot, does he not?"
"Aye, but never alone!"
"Éomer, I believe it is a tremendous achievement that he is willing and happy to ride behind either you or myself. I do not think it right to force him to do something he is not happy with. Besides, he is happy around the horses now more-or-less."
"Legolas, I will not force him if it is too much. But I have the steadiest, safest pony you could possibly wish for." Éomer paused at the relieved look on Legolas's face. "You did not possibly believe that I would make him ride upon one of our war-horses?" The horse-lord let out a shout of laughter at Legolas's sheepish nod, before turning away.
"I am not quite as cruel as all that. I will retire for the night, I think. Good wishes, Legolas."
"Farewell and good sleep, Éomer King."
The Elf watched Éomer leave the hall where they had been talking. A few Rohirrim still lingered, talking casually among themselves. Legolas drained his wine, and set the wooden goblet down on the table, before taking his own leave.
He reached his own quarters which he shared with Gimli, and let himself in quietly. The dwarf was asleep, curled on his side. The window above his bed was open, and a warm breeze filtered through, every now and again stirring his red hair. Legolas sat on his own bed on the other side of the room, watching his sleeping friend, lost in the realms of mortal sleep. What did he dream about, Legolas wondered: the past? The future? Things that would never be? Whatever it was he dreamt of, Legolas knew for certain that it would have nothing to do with the horrors Éomer had in store for him on the morrow.
Legolas watched Gimli for a long while; it could have been hours, he did not know. Until eventually the wonders of Elven sleep took him, and he drifted to paradise.
*************
"Legolas, you are being strangely quiet. Are you ill?"
"Nay."
"Then why do you not sing? Not that I am unhappy to be rid of that confounded habit, but it is worrying."
"It is nothing. Do not worry, Gimli. I-I merely have much on my mind this morning."
Gimli grunted in response to that, obviously happy with Legolas's answer. It was a bright morning in Edoras, the brightest there had been for a while; the sun was newly risen, and the sunlight was young and soft, spreading over the fields of Rohan, which stretched away into the distance like a rippling green sea. The rooves of houses and stables were stained a new, fresh copper colour, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld shone with astounding, simplistic beauty. It was altogether a perfect morning, yet for once Legolas did not see it. He did not know why he felt such dread, but he felt that Éomer was not taking what he was about to do seriously enough.
When they were guests in Edoras, Legolas and Gimli both took it upon themselves to help as much as they could in the stables. Both Elf and Man had been surprised at how much Gimli actually knew when he tried; he had informed them that the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain had ponies for mining work, and to be used for trading. Gimli was a craftsman first and foremost, but he was one of the few dwarves who enjoyed being above ground, so he traded fairly often also. He did not ride, as a rule, so he traded around the area of Erebor and Lake-Town, having only a pack-pony to help with the goods he was taking there and back. This meant that he actually knew a decent amount of horse-care, though he tended to just get on with what he was doing and not let on what he knew.
The pair reached the royal stable block, where the horses of the King and higher ranking Rohhirim were kept. During the stays of Legolas and Gimli, Arod was stabled there also. It was the only block where there were lose- boxes, as opposed to stalls. As a way of making sure every horse in Edoras was adequately cared for, each Rider was to look after his own horse, tack and stable. The spare horses (the ones kept in case of an accident or a horse going lame, or something of the like) were looked after by grooms, employed from the city just for that purpose. It was an efficient system, and was rarely let-down.
Éomer was already present, and his horse, Firefoot, was tied outside of his stable, and the King of Rohan was vigorously brushing the stallion's sleek muscled neck. He looked up as the two entered, and smiled.
"Good morning! I hope you are both well?"
Elf and Dwarf replied that yes, thankyou, they were both well, and gave short bows. Legolas went to Arod's stable, and the tall grey horse looked over his door, knickering a greeting to his master. Legolas fondled his great head, murmuring softly to him in the graceful Elven tongue. Looking over the well built barn, Legolas spotted movement in the stable next to Arod, which was usually reserved for mares in foal. He frowned slightly; it was not yet the breeding season, and none of Éomer's mares were ready for foaling as of yet. He bid Arod patience, and stepped over to make sure his suspiscions were correct.
They were.
Glancing over to Gimli, Legolas saw that his friend was talking comfortably with Éomer, and brushing out Firefoot's long silken tail. Satisfied that Gimli need not know just yet, Legolas looked back into the stable.
Standing, gazing at him with large dark eyes, was a little pony. Unlike most of the animals in Rohan, he was not grey, but a nut brown colour, with a thick black fly-away mane and tail. His face was split by an off-centre blaze, and his ears were overly-large; they were pricked as he watched Legolas with intense interest. Slowly, Legolas extended his arm over the wooden half-door toward the pony, who stepped forward, eyes bright with curiosity. He sniffed Legolas's palm, then nuzzled it, obviously looking for food.
With a smile, Legolas turned his head, but still gently stroking the pony's face. "Éomer? What is this lad doing in here?"
A pause. "Oh. Well..."
"Who?" Gimli asked, dropping his brush into Éomer's grooming bucket and crossing over to where Legolas stood. Gimli looked over the door, and stared.
"What did you do, Éomer? Leave him in the rain?"
"No. His name is Torfi. He belonged to Éowyn once, but he's an old fellow now. Just needs someone to look after him. He largely has nothing to do nowadays, and he gets bored." The Horse-Lord joined the two friends at Torfi's door, who looked puzzled yet pleased to have such an audience, and pushed forward so his head came between Legolas and Gimli. Arod, disgusted with being neglected for that little ragamuffin, began kicking against his door in indignation. Legolas immediately crossed over to his horse, and began fussing him dreadfully.
"What is he in the royal block for?" Gimli asked.
"I-" Éomer broked off, not entirely sure how to break his idea to the notoriously obstinate Dwarf. He looked over at Legolas, who ignored him, obviously a way of saying 'this was your idea, you sort it out' and continued to rub Arod's ears.
"I-I-I'm... I'm giving him to you, Gimli." Éomer said very quickly, after a long pause. There was a silence, in which Legolas shut his eyes, leaning his cheek against Arod's mane, and Éomer began pulling his fingers through his blonde hair. Gimli stood, watching the little pony for those moments, Torfi merely looked back at him. Then, slowly, his hand visibly shaking, he reached out and touched the pony's velvet muzzle. The old pony obviously sensed Gimli's nervousness, and leant against his hand, stepping as close as he could in an attempt to comfort him.
"To me?" Gimli asked eventually.
"Yes." Éomer replied, hope and disbelief fighting for dominance in his tone. Another pause. Legolas looked over at Gimli, who did not look angry, scared, confused, or any other way Legolas would have thought he would look. Instead he looked thoughtful, though apparently more confident by the way he was stroking the face of his newest acquisition.
"Thankyou."
*************
End of chapter one. I know it is rather dull insofar, but I hope it will get better, If you liked it, please review, if you thought it was alright, but could do with improving, please review and tell me how, if you hated it and think it's the worst thing you've ever read, there's not point in reviewing. If no one wants me to write another chapter, tough. It's coming when I next have time and, shock horror, Gimli realises just what Éomer has in store for him...
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, Gimli, Legolas, Éomer, Rohan, or anything else recognisable from Tolkien's work. They all belong to him. He is God. I do, however, own Torfi, which is an old Norse name, and since the Rohirrim are rather Nordic people, and so are Dwarves, I thought the name would be good for that character, who I am rather fond of.
*************
The sight of that pony did something to me I've never quite been able to explain. He was more than tremendous strength and speed and beauty of motion. He set me dreaming...
~Walt Morey~
*************
"Éomer, I do not think that this is a good idea."
"Legolas, the best thing for one's fears is to overcome them! Avoiding the object of one's fear only makes it worse when confronted with it!" Éomer proclaimed enthusiastically, spreading his arms wide to emphasise his point. Legolas merely shook his nut-brown hair, staring into his wine.
"It's not as if he *does* avoid his fears, though. He rides upon Arod and Firefoot, does he not?"
"Aye, but never alone!"
"Éomer, I believe it is a tremendous achievement that he is willing and happy to ride behind either you or myself. I do not think it right to force him to do something he is not happy with. Besides, he is happy around the horses now more-or-less."
"Legolas, I will not force him if it is too much. But I have the steadiest, safest pony you could possibly wish for." Éomer paused at the relieved look on Legolas's face. "You did not possibly believe that I would make him ride upon one of our war-horses?" The horse-lord let out a shout of laughter at Legolas's sheepish nod, before turning away.
"I am not quite as cruel as all that. I will retire for the night, I think. Good wishes, Legolas."
"Farewell and good sleep, Éomer King."
The Elf watched Éomer leave the hall where they had been talking. A few Rohirrim still lingered, talking casually among themselves. Legolas drained his wine, and set the wooden goblet down on the table, before taking his own leave.
He reached his own quarters which he shared with Gimli, and let himself in quietly. The dwarf was asleep, curled on his side. The window above his bed was open, and a warm breeze filtered through, every now and again stirring his red hair. Legolas sat on his own bed on the other side of the room, watching his sleeping friend, lost in the realms of mortal sleep. What did he dream about, Legolas wondered: the past? The future? Things that would never be? Whatever it was he dreamt of, Legolas knew for certain that it would have nothing to do with the horrors Éomer had in store for him on the morrow.
Legolas watched Gimli for a long while; it could have been hours, he did not know. Until eventually the wonders of Elven sleep took him, and he drifted to paradise.
*************
"Legolas, you are being strangely quiet. Are you ill?"
"Nay."
"Then why do you not sing? Not that I am unhappy to be rid of that confounded habit, but it is worrying."
"It is nothing. Do not worry, Gimli. I-I merely have much on my mind this morning."
Gimli grunted in response to that, obviously happy with Legolas's answer. It was a bright morning in Edoras, the brightest there had been for a while; the sun was newly risen, and the sunlight was young and soft, spreading over the fields of Rohan, which stretched away into the distance like a rippling green sea. The rooves of houses and stables were stained a new, fresh copper colour, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld shone with astounding, simplistic beauty. It was altogether a perfect morning, yet for once Legolas did not see it. He did not know why he felt such dread, but he felt that Éomer was not taking what he was about to do seriously enough.
When they were guests in Edoras, Legolas and Gimli both took it upon themselves to help as much as they could in the stables. Both Elf and Man had been surprised at how much Gimli actually knew when he tried; he had informed them that the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain had ponies for mining work, and to be used for trading. Gimli was a craftsman first and foremost, but he was one of the few dwarves who enjoyed being above ground, so he traded fairly often also. He did not ride, as a rule, so he traded around the area of Erebor and Lake-Town, having only a pack-pony to help with the goods he was taking there and back. This meant that he actually knew a decent amount of horse-care, though he tended to just get on with what he was doing and not let on what he knew.
The pair reached the royal stable block, where the horses of the King and higher ranking Rohhirim were kept. During the stays of Legolas and Gimli, Arod was stabled there also. It was the only block where there were lose- boxes, as opposed to stalls. As a way of making sure every horse in Edoras was adequately cared for, each Rider was to look after his own horse, tack and stable. The spare horses (the ones kept in case of an accident or a horse going lame, or something of the like) were looked after by grooms, employed from the city just for that purpose. It was an efficient system, and was rarely let-down.
Éomer was already present, and his horse, Firefoot, was tied outside of his stable, and the King of Rohan was vigorously brushing the stallion's sleek muscled neck. He looked up as the two entered, and smiled.
"Good morning! I hope you are both well?"
Elf and Dwarf replied that yes, thankyou, they were both well, and gave short bows. Legolas went to Arod's stable, and the tall grey horse looked over his door, knickering a greeting to his master. Legolas fondled his great head, murmuring softly to him in the graceful Elven tongue. Looking over the well built barn, Legolas spotted movement in the stable next to Arod, which was usually reserved for mares in foal. He frowned slightly; it was not yet the breeding season, and none of Éomer's mares were ready for foaling as of yet. He bid Arod patience, and stepped over to make sure his suspiscions were correct.
They were.
Glancing over to Gimli, Legolas saw that his friend was talking comfortably with Éomer, and brushing out Firefoot's long silken tail. Satisfied that Gimli need not know just yet, Legolas looked back into the stable.
Standing, gazing at him with large dark eyes, was a little pony. Unlike most of the animals in Rohan, he was not grey, but a nut brown colour, with a thick black fly-away mane and tail. His face was split by an off-centre blaze, and his ears were overly-large; they were pricked as he watched Legolas with intense interest. Slowly, Legolas extended his arm over the wooden half-door toward the pony, who stepped forward, eyes bright with curiosity. He sniffed Legolas's palm, then nuzzled it, obviously looking for food.
With a smile, Legolas turned his head, but still gently stroking the pony's face. "Éomer? What is this lad doing in here?"
A pause. "Oh. Well..."
"Who?" Gimli asked, dropping his brush into Éomer's grooming bucket and crossing over to where Legolas stood. Gimli looked over the door, and stared.
"What did you do, Éomer? Leave him in the rain?"
"No. His name is Torfi. He belonged to Éowyn once, but he's an old fellow now. Just needs someone to look after him. He largely has nothing to do nowadays, and he gets bored." The Horse-Lord joined the two friends at Torfi's door, who looked puzzled yet pleased to have such an audience, and pushed forward so his head came between Legolas and Gimli. Arod, disgusted with being neglected for that little ragamuffin, began kicking against his door in indignation. Legolas immediately crossed over to his horse, and began fussing him dreadfully.
"What is he in the royal block for?" Gimli asked.
"I-" Éomer broked off, not entirely sure how to break his idea to the notoriously obstinate Dwarf. He looked over at Legolas, who ignored him, obviously a way of saying 'this was your idea, you sort it out' and continued to rub Arod's ears.
"I-I-I'm... I'm giving him to you, Gimli." Éomer said very quickly, after a long pause. There was a silence, in which Legolas shut his eyes, leaning his cheek against Arod's mane, and Éomer began pulling his fingers through his blonde hair. Gimli stood, watching the little pony for those moments, Torfi merely looked back at him. Then, slowly, his hand visibly shaking, he reached out and touched the pony's velvet muzzle. The old pony obviously sensed Gimli's nervousness, and leant against his hand, stepping as close as he could in an attempt to comfort him.
"To me?" Gimli asked eventually.
"Yes." Éomer replied, hope and disbelief fighting for dominance in his tone. Another pause. Legolas looked over at Gimli, who did not look angry, scared, confused, or any other way Legolas would have thought he would look. Instead he looked thoughtful, though apparently more confident by the way he was stroking the face of his newest acquisition.
"Thankyou."
*************
End of chapter one. I know it is rather dull insofar, but I hope it will get better, If you liked it, please review, if you thought it was alright, but could do with improving, please review and tell me how, if you hated it and think it's the worst thing you've ever read, there's not point in reviewing. If no one wants me to write another chapter, tough. It's coming when I next have time and, shock horror, Gimli realises just what Éomer has in store for him...
