Fairё

Gildor's POV

Beleriand, FA 125/126

It was a cold evening in late winter when Faire and I ran down the last Orc of the group. The leader, the one who had killed her. The villain chief who dared to kill an enemy from behind. I remembered the face, the stench of the creature. I would pound him to mash. I was not finished until this Orc was minced meat, until even the dirty armour was fragments disappearing in the mud.

'stop now'

I ignored the mind-voice.

'mad. stop'

She nudged my shoulder, and I shoved Faire's head away. A moment later she almost bowled me over, driving me away from the mutilated corpse relentlessly.

"Damn you horse" I made a grab for the halter to pull her head towards me. I had lost my sword when she hit me. Faire tossed her head slightly, coolly flicking the reins out of my reach. Her grey, dirt-smudged shoulder loomed like an impassable wall in front of me. My blood was pounding in my head, fury and pain making me shake.

"You tell me to stop?" I demanded furiously "You should be raging! She was yours, horse, your rider! You chose-" I broke off abruptly. Faire turned away slightly, relenting her forbidding pose a bit. Her fore-hooves squelched in the bloody mire. I dropped my eyes in embarrassment, staring at her legs spattered with Orc blood and gore. Though I was panting breath seemed to avoid me. Faire turned, resting her soft muzzle lightly on my shoulder.

'I have. So have you'

She blew warm horse breath across my cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut for a long moment. Red sparks still seemed to dance before me. Rage and sorrow mingled incoherently, still as fresh as if it had not been almost a year ago. We stood motionless for a while. Somewhere in the canopy the first ravens croaked hopefully. Yes I thought savagely. Come, pick their cursed bones clean. Better even, scatter them over the cliffs -.

I raised a trembling hand and touched Faire's head lightly. A glancing swipe had cut across her brow and the red stood out against her greyish coat.

I laid my dirty and bloodied hands on her head, calling up the few direct healing skills I had. I could not concentrate properly, but it would be enough. She would not retain a scar.

'I'm sorry, Faire' I said finally, stepping back to look at her. The general-sized armour of our horses was too large and heavy, so Silmarusse had designed and built leather-padded but light steel pieces to fit Faire. By necessity it could only cover her chest and rump, leaving her legs and belly unprotected. All her coat was covered in mud and blood, bits of gore and flesh clinging to her. But except for a few shallow cuts she was unharmed.

I had not known horses could kill with their teeth –.

Faire could. I remembered their doubts, back in Valinor, that she was a hunter's horse and not a warrior's. Even Orome had doubted her suitability for combat. Numbly, I turned back to the remains of the Orc-leader and retrieved my sword out of the mired carcass. They should have doubted mine I thought bitterly. Faire had survived the Ice, sometimes carrying both Silmarusse and me at once. She had survived our first encounters with Orcs, the first battles.

I stared at the dead Orcs. I felt the burning, wrenching desire to destroy even more. Hate rose, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I clutched my sword so hard I thought my knuckles must pop. Nothing I could do would abate what I felt. Nothing. I spat at the corpse and turned abruptly.

'Let's go'

It was many days still until the first dawning of spring and the forest was silent and empty. There was no green yet, and only a few birds piped occasionally. I trudged through the bleak forest almost unseeing. The dead leaves underfoot swallowed all sound, it seemed. Only the occasional thud rang loud in the early evening when Faire hit a root hidden under the leaves.

She trotted wearily just behind me on the game trail, her head low. Only her ears twitched, keeping track of our surroundings while I fought my own bleak thoughts.

I had finished what I had set out for. The purpose that had driven me the past year was gone. The Orcs were dead, all of them. Avenge me, Silmarusse had said. Flippantly, one night, some time before we had left the West. The Prophecy had not been spoken or heard then, but already they said that swords were always two-edged. It seemed a whole life ago.

I had done that. And remember my laughter. So she had said as well. But I could not do that. Not yet.

So what now?

We came across a brook and drank side by side. I splashed a few handfuls of cold water into my face and leant against the nearest of Faire's forelegs, resting my head against the warm fur. What should I do now?

First of all see to your horse.

I forced myself to concentrate on the land. A place to rest. Was there a cave near? I snarled softly when even now a thin drizzle started.

'Do you know a place?'

'No' Faire sounded as bleak as I felt. The reins slipped over her mane as she lowered her head to drink again. Faire flicked her ears in disgust when the reins snuck behind them. I got up with a sigh and stretched my aching muscles, then snapped the reins off the rings of her halter and knotted them under her neck. I was not going to need them now anyway.

Silmarusse had worked out a curious way of fighting on horseback, and had steadfastly ignored the sideways glances of the other elves. The dark elves rode with harness, they said, but the High Ones? In fact, I thought darkly, the reins had been Faire's idea. In combat a quick jerk was more effective than mind-speech. When she had chosen me as her rider I had quietly adopted not only Silmarusse's version of Faire's armour but her way of riding as well.

I would have had little chance changing anything against Faire's will anyway.

The day darkened. A thin layer of moisture gathered on my armour and clothing. The cinches and metal pieces reinforcing the leather turned slippery. I felt dirty and on edge. Though she was silent I knew the same went for Faire. Always unconventional, Silmarusse had soon tried to speak with her mount on a much more intimate level than I had then thought possible. Some practice was needed to find the right approach, and blank spaces remained where horse-mind and elf-mind simply diverged too much, but we could exchange more than the immediate emotions or desires that usually made up communication with the horses. That Silmarusse had, as my people said, 'risked' going to the deeper level now allowed me to communicate with Faire beyond the scope of immediate things as well. In the one year since Silmarusse's death I had done my best to deepen that bond. I could not only pass on orders, simple information or emotions, I could actually talk with her and she with me.

We found a patch of close standing pines which evergreen canopy kept out most of the fine drizzle. The lowest branches were about the height of Faire's chest, and we had to scramble for a large enough entrance into the midst of the trees. There at least Faire could stand comfortable without her upper half sticking into branches. With clammy fingers I fumbled the straps of her armour and harness loose, slipping on the damp and slimy leather. It would be hard work cleaning the things, I thought as I lowered saddle and armour plates to the ground in one piece. Leaving the pieces connected wasn't what I preferred, but should things turn nasty I had Faire re-saddled in moments and we could be off. Sweeping my tangled and dirty hair out of my eyes I fished in my pack for Faire's brush. In some places the blood, gore and sweat had dried and I could brush it out of her coat. I worked slowly through the tangles in her mane and finally managed to calm down enough to feel tired.

Faire finally interrupted my attempt to rid her coat of the dirt and told me to get some sleep. There would be no fire again. I could count the times we had rested in dry places with a fire for warmth and hot food on one hand. Faire sniffed the ground and scratched a little with her fore-hoof in true horse fashion before turning round and round and finally lying down with a soft thud. She would keep watch for a while despite that, I knew. Even when she dozed I dared to sleep. Her horse senses warned us more accurately than my own.

I did not bother to remove my own armour. Most of the time I slept in it. I pulled out a blanket and realized even my bedroll had got dirty in the fight today. As soon as the weather allowed it I would have to stop and find a place to get my clothes and blankets washed. Pulling the smelly fabric up to my chin I lay down beside Faire, grateful to close out the forest and feel a breathing body near.

Spring came swiftly and the weather turned unusually warm. After a few hellish days of continual rain a bright sun burned the clouds away and cast a sweltering and damp heat over the land. A strong smell of decaying leaves and fresh green hung over the warm ground. Waiting for the sun to bake the last moisture from my freshly scrubbed and faded clothes and blankets I could see Faire some distance away, foraging for the first spring greens. She had found a shallow pool a few days ago, and by now the last mud and bloodstains were gone from her coat. I had tended the cuts on her flanks and legs, and the wounds had healed well. Her light grey coat, turning to a darker grey on her rump, shoulders and legs shone eerily in the misty sunlight between the still mostly bare trees.

I rubbed my bruised ribs absently. I had not fared as well as Faire in the last battle, but the still constant pain failed to make me feel victorious. What use had my revenge been? Nothing brought Silmarusse back. Nothing ever would. Anything I did was useless, now as ever. We had come here, fled here, to Middle-earth, to find a life for ourselves. And when we finally seemed to have it, had fought the first battles and decided them in favour of the returned exiles, everything was snatched away from us.

I had Faire, I reminded myself. Sometimes I felt the mare was my last and only connection I still had with Silmarusse. Would it have been wiser to follow the way of my people and take the traditional vows? Sometimes it seemed easier to know and feel oneself bound to partner who was dead than to stand all alone and unbound. Sometimes it seemed wiser to have taken the vows and not tried to fool the Valar. Not opposed them at all. Then, if they ever granted it, we might have met again. If we had, if we had not, if they did.

If, if, if. I dropped the stone I had used to sharpen and smooth the edge of my sword and lay back, closing my eyes and turning my face to the sun. Faire carried something of Silmarusse with her. Did she know, I wondered. It was useless to ask her. Whenever I had approached that topic, Faire had either not understood, pretended not to understand, or flatly refused to answer. If that was her intention or if our connection failed there at one of the blank spaces I could not say.

At least it was a fact that I found my horse's company preferable to that of elves right now.

Which did not at all help me to set a new direction. I wanted to be alone, I wanted company. I could not face living in a city, and the thought of the cities nagged and drew me. Faire was here, but that was it. She refused to be a counsellor. She had chosen me and would follow me. But decisions were mine, whether I chose the wild or the city.

A few days later part of the decision was taken from me. I knew I was near some settlements, but those were human villages. Small, but nevertheless the woods around them seemed to get crowded, as if one village took thrice as much space as a patch of forest of the same size. Faire scented the hunters early, and I was forewarned. I considered avoiding them, but that would have taken me much closer to one of the villages than I wished. So I let Faire continue her slow walk along a small brook and waited for our paths to cross. They did soon enough, but to my pleasant surprise the five hunters turned out to be elven scouts.

They were happy enough to share their supplies without expecting a return trade. When they heard of my intention to move further east they asked me to carry a message to a large group of elves I was bound to encounter. They had fought Orcs themselves a few days ago, and quietly listened to the skeleton version of my own meeting with the creatures. When I described the Orcs' armour they frowned. Obviously the group I had tracked on my own had been on their way to a larger group that was getting strong in these parts. I had been lucky to intercept them before they had met up with their intended regiment.

The next day we parted ways and I continued east. Sure enough Faire soon scented the faint traces of smoke that always came with a company that did not travel fast and light. Also, the odour of other horses, of hounds, and of cooking reached her sharp nose. I watched her ears prick with interest and drop back suddenly, echoing my own conflict. She wanted to go there, and at the same time felt deeply apprehensive, though she mainly thought fondly of dry and safe tents, hot mash, oats and hay. She would exchange all that for her own grazing and foraging any time, but after a year of constant watchfulness, little food and rough weather the possible stable-tents seemed very much desirable to her for a while, I guessed.

'Let's have a look what we're in for' I said after a while of uncertainly standing under a huge oak. The first tiny buds of green showed on the tips of its branches now 'If we don't like it, we just drop off the message and are gone'

'Yes' Faire agreed with a silent sigh 'Maybe they trade oats this time, not smoked meat'

I smiled wryly 'I'm sorry there was nothing in there for you with the hunters. I promise I'll exchange news only for oats or mash this time, alright?'

Faire snorted softly and picked up her smooth pace a little. I tugged at her mane lightly 'You are still angry the scout said it was human trappings, your gear'

She flicked her tail angrily 'Next time, I kick'

'Do not mind so much' I said after a while 'It is he who would have rubbed his ass raw riding his wet horse after crossing the river'

'It is he who would have drowned in the Ice without saddle straps to hold on to' Faire said darkly.

I hated to remember the Ice, and even more to remember all the close shaves. And all those we had lost in the crossing. Many elves and horses alike had not left the ice. Faire had, probably because of sheer luck. But Silmarusse and I, we had left the Ice because we had been able to cling to her saddle with half-frozen fingers when the ground had given way under Faire's hooves and pitched us all into the icy sea. Maybe if Turgon's stallion had worn a saddle Elenwe would not have lost her hold on him when he slipped.

Maybes were as useless as ifs. Faire tossed her head slightly, half in question, half in invitation to run. I gave her silent assent and she fell into an easy canter. The distance between us and the camped company dwindled, but for a while I managed to follow Faire's example and empty my mind but for the swift forward motion and the thudding of her seemingly tireless hooves.