Here follows is a coming of age story set in the time before LOTR. The events culminate in the war which Aragorn rode to in his youth, against the Orcs with Théoden's grandfather.

The cart rolled forward slowly, the horse pulling it being both old and tired. The sun was setting behind the great mountains which formed the backbone of the great land of Rohan. The driver of the cart was at the cusp of manhood, grown old in all but his attitude and named Mather. He lazily flicked the horse as it had slowed to almost a stop and considered the telling off he would receive for not returning before sundown.

The cart bumped up on a large boulder and he cursed the state of disrepair which the once great road had fallen into. The sun slowly sunk lower until the moon could be seen. Mather thought of lighting a lantern but decided it would be worthless, he was but a short distance from home.

As the horse lazily continued along the road Mather listened hard, bored by the journey. He swore that from the small woodland to his right he could hear voices. They sounded harsh and within seconds Mather realised that they were not the sound of men and thought as to what they could be. He had heard stories of talking trees, but thought them no more than children's tales which no longer affected him. Deciding on the way of caution he whistled for the horse to slow. In the darkness the wagon rolled to a stop and Mather could hear the talking.

"What do you mean looting? You stupid idiots. We're scouts - we ain't supposed to make noise!" cried a rough voice.

"Me and the boys got bored," replied another, "What you care?"

"Cos I got to report to the boss. You do something silly again I'll have you, got it?"

A snarl was the only reply. Mather had never seen or heard Orcs before, they had not been in the Eastfold for years scared away by the power of the rider's. Mather knew however that war was coming and that if he did not hurry his family could be in danger. He whipped the horse to ride off and prayed the Orcs would not hear him.

Yet it was an old cart and as the wheel turned it squeaked raising the attention of the Orcs.

"What's that?" shouted the leader.

"I smell manflesh," roared an Orc who had not previously spoken.

Mather whipped the horse hard and it increased to a gallop. The Orcs charge from the bushes just ahead, a party of twenty or thirty. Mather whipped the horse to run through them and the Orcs scattered off the road or were hit.

"Get the bastard!"

The Orcs snarled at the boy and charged after the cart. Some grabbed the back of the cart whilst others ran to grab Mather. It was clear he could not outrun them at present and Mather felt fear flood into him. An Orc dropped into the cart behind him. Mather wished that he were a rider and carried a sword but instead he drew his short knife and stabbed the Orc, his impetuousness winning the first confrontation. Orc blood poured over his hands and in disbelief he grabbed the rough cleaver of the Orc.

Mather realised that with the cart he stood no chance of escape and swinging the cleaver wildly to keep back another Orc he leapt to the horse. He then slammed the weapon into the reins that held the horse and kicked at the horse to move faster. Driven forward by desperation it found reserves of strength previously unknown. Mather seated himself as comfortably as possible and sighed in relief at his escape. He patted the horse and then hurried it with the intention of losing the Orcs and getting home.

The journey was quick and his rode dread rose up in his stomach. The gods told him that all would not be well.

As he rode up to his farm he saw it aflame. A tear welled in his eye and he understood now what despair meant. In those brief seconds the boy became a man, and the man a warrior. He felt his despair turn to hatred for the Orcs and he perceived that it was now his destiny to join the Rohirrim and become a rider. A lone tear rolled done his cheek and the man did not disguise it. He heard a groan and ran to a fallen body, pierced with two arrows. By the light of the flames he saw his father, a smile began to spread across the old man's lips.

"You are alive. Then our family is not destroyed and the Orcs have not won. Take my sword. It was my father's and was destined for your elder brother. He has no need of it now. We are called elsewhere. Ride, ride to Edoras, raise the alarm. Make the Orc scum pay for their wrongs. I have faith in strength unseen in you boy. Look for your destiny now, and remember that you are not alone, we all ride with you in spirit."

So it was his father passed and Mather was all that was left of his family. He buried his father that night and took from him the mail, shield and sword of his family.

"I swear here that I will take my revenge against the Orc scum who did this and that while I draw breath they will not be safe in the Eastfold. Once this task is done I will rebuild my home." Mather bowed his head as he spoke these words and then silently saddled his horse. He looked back to the place of his happy youth, of his first games and where he learnt to fire a bow. Then he rode forth, destined for conflict.

The start is slow but it does get better. Please read and review. Thanks.

Matt