Aragorn almost found himself wishing for winter again. For the last four days since he had passed the eastern border into Rohan, the heat had been astounding - mosquitos and flies swarmed everywhere, the ground radiated heat well into the evening, and during midday..
He trudged along, Lhach plodding along behind him - the horse's coat was damp and dark with sweat from the minor exertion of just walking, and walking slowly at that. Aragorn was not faring much better, having shedded as many layers of clothing as possible without baring too much of his skin to the biting flies; it didn't help. Perhaps he should have found someplace cooler to stay for the summer. An oven, maybe, he mused; behind him Lhach snorted, as if reading his thoughts and dismissing them with utter disdain.
When darkness fell, he set up camp beneath a small rocky overhang from the ruins of some great stone of ages past. In the growing shade, he could see from afar tiny spots of firelight - a village. Lhach slept standing nearby as Aragorn took out his knife, still sharpened from his stay half a year ago in Mirkwood, and carefully cut away a year's growth of hair until his locks once again cleared to his jawline. After a brief, restless sleep he was riding toward the village before dawn broke, keeping Lhach at a canter while the day was still dew-misty and cool.
They reached the village even before the sun had scorched away the last vestiges of damp from the ground. A sentry must have reported his approach, for most of the shutters on the houses were drawn shut, and a small gathering of men and boys was congregated ahead, a few armed with long spears. Aragorn brought Lhach to a halt, dismounting after a moment's indecision and walking the rest of the way with Lhach striding along behind him. "Men of Rohan!" he called, stopping again no more than ten feet away. "Would you let me pass? I bring no evil to the Riddermark."
One giant of a man stepped forward, a full head taller than any other in the group and broad-shouldered to match; keenly dark eyes regarded Aragorn beneath darker hair. "Whether you would pass or join us, we would know your name, stranger."
Name? It had not occured to Aragorn before that he should not give his true name to all of Arda, but then, most of his time spent before had been in the company of elves or his horse. He discreetly cast his eyes upward, catching sight of a huge winged silhouette above-- "Thorongil," he said. The eagle of the star. "My name is Thorongil."
"Well then, Thorongil," the big man drawled, clearly knowing that the name was false but sounding amused nonetheless. "We will hold you to your word that you do not bring ill to the Ma--"
At that moment, a boy burst out of some obscure door - Aragorn had not been paying enough attention to know from where - out of breath and red in the face. "Selinethas, Corcharod says that his horse has gone lame! He says to.." he trailed off, seeing the interrupted conversation, and ducked away back into the darkness again with a muttered apology.
"Tell him that we will leave without him, then!" the man - Selinethas - called after the boy before turning back to Aragorn. "Where're you headed?"
"Edoras," came the guarded reply.
"That's good, for we're going to Edoras as well." Selinethas cocked his head slightly to the side as the group behind him began to disperse slowly, eyeing Aragorn and Lhach critically. "Will you come with us?
Aragorn hesitated again, glancing at the disintegrating group - a dozen or so tall lads, with Selinethas being one of three men there. Selinethas himself hadn't said anything about it, but Aragorn knew from experience that they would be looking for another adept hunter for the group as well, particularly in weather this harsh, when few game would be in the open of Rohan's plains.
"If it would be for the best, I will go with you," he said, stepping forward.
"Are you ready to ride? We're late to leave already - you can have Corcharod's provisions, if you have none for yourself."
Aragorn nodded.
"We'll go, then." Selinethas turned toward the stables with some indistinguishable roar of orders to those within, and in minutes the boys came rushing back, leading bridled horses laden with packs. "Mount up! We ride south!"
That day seemed cooler than the last four had been. Aragorn wasn't sure if the weather had actually taken a turn for the better, or if the company he was in simply made the sun's ferocity dim in comparison. For the moment, he was riding ahead of the group with Selinethas while the other two men had had the job of watching the overly-rowdy boys foisted upon them. After hours of doing that particular duty, Aragorn felt somewhat sorry for the men, and more than a little annoyed at the boys' continual immaturiry. It was easy enough to ignore the intermittent shouts and the random squeals of an irritated horse from behind him.
"So you said you're from further north."
"North of the Riddermark," Aragorn corrected absently, casting his gaze over the flat grasslands ahead. Rohan's summer heat had dried the ground to a dusty dun, and the grass that covered it was not much darker in shade, with only rare patches of true green showing through.
"North of here," Selinethas repeated, somewhat dubiously. "The Wilderland, perhaps?"
"No."
"The Lone-lands?"
"No. Does it really matter," Aragorn inquired, somewhat irritably, before the man could ask again, "from whence I came? All you need know is that I go to serve Thengel King in Edoras." The silence after his words fell uncomfortably, and the sudden silence from the group behind them only doubled it, until he sighed. "I am sorry."
"No, you're right. It's not my place to ask after that if you don't want to tell it." Selinethas glanced over at Aragorn with a crooked smile. "Mind me asking something else, though?"
"I cannot guarantee that I'd have an answer."
"Well - why do you ride reinless?"
Aragorn blinked, looked down at Lhach's sweat-dark neck. No, there were no reins there, nor a bridle. "I'm accustomed to riding without them. I was taught that way, and it's easier to handle a weapon if you don't have to hold the reins."
"And if your horse there were to run off?"
"I trained him myself, and he has not failed me yet in courage." Aragorn shrugged. "I have no reason to believe he'd run off anywhere unless it were at my bidding."
"Looks like he'd be quick enough to run off, to me," Selinethas said doubtfully, looking down at Lhach from atop his own huge steel-grey mount. Aragorn glanced at his horse, too, and was forced to admit to himself that, compared to the other larger destriers of the group, Lhach did look somewhat -- lacking. He seemed almost dainty, fine-boned and light-footed over the harsh terrain; while a chestnut coat was common enough in horses, the flame-red mane and tail which had given him his name seemed too bright beside the other horses. Aragorn found himself wondering if, in comparison to other men, he seemed more elvish, or human? Ethereal or earthly?
"He's quick enough to beat any horse I've raced him against," he admitted, reaching down to pat Lhach's damp shoulder. "But my brothers once told me that it should not be in my nature to run from my foes, and Lhach seems to have taken the advice, too."
Selinethas let out a bark of laughter, startling his own horse into a nervous sidestep. "Your brothers, eh? So they taught you to ride that way, too?"
"Yes," Aragorn replied evenly, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled. "My brothers."
That night, he and Selenithas led two of the more mature boys on a brief hunting expedition that took them in a half-mile chase on horseback across the plains for one of the fragile-looking deer of Rohan that had wandered too far from a herd. Aragorn's wry conclusion, about a quarter of a mile into the pursuit, was that their quarry was much tougher than it looked. It was his arrow that finally took the beast down, and as they trussed up the carcass to take it back to their camp, he found himself plagued by a barrage of questions from the two boys.
"Thorongil, how did you learn to shoot like that?"
"Can you teach us?"
"Where did you get such a fast horse?"
"How can such a little horse run like that, Thorongil?"
"Is that why you don't ride with a bridle?"
His hands slicked with the deer's blood, Aragorn resisted the urge to cover his ears and flinch his way back to Lhach's quiet company. Instead, he picked up the deer, unceremoniously dumped it in the taller lad's arms, and announced, "Questions after the food. The others are waiting." Selenithas was laughing as Aragorn mounted up and rode back ahead of them, shaking his head.
When the fire had burnt out, the endless questions answered, and the deer eaten, Selenithas and the other two men rounded up the horses to tie them on a line that led to a stake just pounded into the dry ground. Aragorn was jolted out of his postprandial thoughts by Selenithas's booming voice. "Thorongil!"
"What?"
"Come and hold your horse. How are we to tether him if he has no bridle?"
Aragorn blinked, squinting out into the darkness against the flaring brightness that staring into the embers of the fire had left on his eyes. "You can leave Lhach free. He won't leave the camp." He took the vague muttering as assent, and rolled onto his bedroll to sleep.
He woke again to the roaring of Selinethas's voice, and he wondered if coming along with others had been such a good idea after all. Sitting up, he rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, tried to find out what was going on from beneath the overcutting clamor that was Selenithas. The man was looming over four of the most juvenile-acting lads, and the entire quartet was looking quite young indeed as they found themselves all but cowering under his wrath. The rest of the camp was waking up as well, though it was not yet morning. And then Aragorn noticed one thing that made him rub his eyes again in disbelief.
The entire picketed line of horses was gone with nothing more than a spot of hoof-trampled dirt to signify that they'd ever been in the camp at all. Lhach was -- Lhach was behind him, Aragorn found out, as a velvety chestnut nose nudged his back. But the other fifteen horses were most definitely absent.
At least we won't have to worry about Orcs ambushing us, he thought dryly, climbing to his feet. He was fairly certain the sheer volume of Selinethas's voice would frighten off anything living in the area. "Selinethas--" No luck. "Selinethas. Selinethas!" he shouted the last, and finally caught the man's attention, turning it away from the boys as complete silence fell over the camp. "What has happened?"
"These fools," Selinethas growled, jabbing one finger accusatively at the four boys, "these clods decided it would be fun to test your word by trying to scare your horse into fleeing the camp."
"Well, since that obviously did not work.." Aragorn looked between the shamefaced lads and the incensed man. He clenched his jaw for a moment, fighting to dampen his rising ire at the thought of anyone attempting to abuse an animal for such an idiotic reason. No elf would ever do such a thing. "What happened to the other horses?"
"One of them probably spooked when one of these idiots here tried to rush your horse, and they all panicked. They took off, every last one."
"We didn't mean to," said one boy, sullen.
"Didn't mean to?" Selenithas bellowed. "You meant to frighten one horse away to test his rider's word. I would say you have succeeded!"
There came a surprised murmur from the boys, though no definite reply.
"Yes, succeeded," he continued, suddenly soft of voice, taking a step toward them. To their credit, only a few backed up. "You have broken the word of the Rohirrim that says that their horses, when tied, will stay in their camp."
"So we have," said one youth, brasher than all the rest. "What of it?"
"What of it?" Selenithas repeated, all too pleasantly. His eyes blazed. "There is little of it. So little, in fact, that I will tell you of it now." His voice turned suddenly harsh as he straightened, sending an even look at the quartet. "We will continue on foot. Thorongil -- as you've the only horse in camp, I'd be obliged to ask you to ride to Edoras alone and give the king our excuse."
Aragorn paused a moment and nodded, but said, "It would still be better for you, I think, were I to go after your horses and bring them back -- if all goes well, 'twould only be a day's delay."
Selenithas frowned as he mulled that over, but at length he nodded. "You're a good man, Thorongil, to risk your spot in the recruit for us."
"Then I will take out my horse in search of yours, and I will return by sunset, with or without them."
"Even if you do return with the horses, you four'll be walking the rest of the way to Edoras, carrying your horses' packs, in return for slowing all of us down this much," Selenithas directed to the boys with a scowl.
"I will accompany them, if that is the case, until we get there," Aragorn supplied quietly, kneeling to pack his bedroll. At Selenithas's protesting look, he managed a hint of a smile. "The recruit is not so important to me as it is to you, I fear."
"But we'll be late!"
"You'll be late in any case. Get going. 'Twill be morning soon." Amid the grumbling and the muttering, Aragorn quickly saddled Lhach up, adjusting straps and buckles for an long moment.
"You're kind, Thorongil," Selinethas said from behind him. Aragorn didn't turn, just went on fiddling with buckles that didn't need to be refastened. "Most anyone else wouldn't care if those lads were left alone and eaten by wraiths on their way up, after what they did to those horses."
Aragorn shrugged slightly, running one hand over the saddle before swinging himself up into it, rubbing Lhach's neck briskly. "Rohan's dedication to its horses is admirable, but you do not have time to do worse to them, and it is not in my nature to leave anyone alone on these plains." With a quick nudge of his knees, he turned Lhach toward the direction of the tracks the other horses had left. "I'll find you by sundown." And he was off, spurring his horse into a light canter across the sun-lightening fields.
It did not take long to find the horses - still tied together, they left a swath of tracks that he probably could have found when he was seven years old, all leading to a vaguely hilly area that still sported green grass at its peaks. The group of horses was grazing, barely flickering an ear when Aragorn rode Lhach up beside them.
And how am I to bring them all back? he wondered, looking at them. The tie was not so long that he could use it to lead them to the camp, at least not without some serious fear of tangling the horses in the middle, and it already looked to be fraying in a few spots. As he watched, one of the horses stepped a little too close to another in its eagerness for a bite of grass, and was rewarded with flattened ears and an irritated squeal. Great. A lovely task.
Two hours into their grounded trek across the plains, Selinethas was treated to the sight of what looked like an entire herd of horses galloping toward them, kicking up dust enough to leave clouds in their wake. And there, going behind the group, was a rider atop a dainty little chestnut, swerving out to the sides every so often to keep the horses from straying away. As they approached, Aragorn nudged Lhach into a faster pace, circling around to the front of the herd to slow them down, until the horses came to a stop, sweat-streaked and dusty, and no more than fifty feet away from the group of riders. And six days later, he and the four boys trudged up the steep slope to Edoras, their horses trailing behind.
Selinethas was waiting for them in front of the stables; Aragorn wondered if the man had seen them from afar, or if he just had an incredible sense of timing. "Welcome again, Thorongil. You four," the big man said, nodding expressionlessly at the quartet of boys, "will return home with the next patrol group that goes north. You are too late for the autumn recruit, and Thengel will not take on riders who do not respect their mounts. Go," he added, rather forcefully, when one of the boys started to protest. "You will stay in Edoras until then. Go find lodgings with whoever will take you."
Aragorn watched the boys retreat, one hand reaching back to idly scratch beneath Lhach's forelock. "And I?" he inquired in a low voice, glancing up at Selinethas. "The recruits must have all been ridden in at least two days ago."
"Ah - I hope you don't mind that I took a few liberties for you, then."
"Liberties?"
"Well, I explained your absence to the First Marshal," Selinethas explained, turning toward the stables and beckoning Aragorn to come along. "And I told him of your skills, and of what you've done for the group while we were coming here.."
"Yes?" Aragorn led Lhach into one of the empty box stalls at the end of the stable, stepping in as well to unsaddle the horse as Selinethas leaned on the side of the stall entrance. Done quickly, the saddle was passed outside the stall to be set on a rack, and Aragorn went to check the stall's hayrack.
"He decided to let my vouch for you stand. They put you into the sixth eored."
Aragorn straightened up so fast he smacked his head into the top of the hayrack, doubling over as a result with a grimace before turning to stare at Selinethas. "The sixth eored?"
Selinethas chuckled, the rumbling sound filling the air. "Don't sound so surprised. You might've made it into the third or fourth, but they'd never seen you yet, so they went for the safer choice." He backed out of the stall doorway as Aragorn came out, and nodded at the basket of brushes across the aisle. "I'm in the sixth, as well. Try not to outdo me in every way, will you?" The last was delivered with a grin, which Aragorn returned as he came back with a stiff body brush and slipped back into the stall to brush off the saddle marks on Lhach's back.
"I'll do my best."
"You're a good man, Thorongil." And with that, Selinethas stepped away, leaving Aragorn alone in the stable with only the horses and the hay for company.