Wow, it's been forever. But hey, I have an excuse: I didn't have the internet, or at least an internet I could upload this from. So. And wow: this is a really popular story. Thanks.

Once again: I don't own this, I just write it. Wait...

-The Author

The stable boy's name was Humphrey, but he hated being called that, so everyone called him "the stable boy," or "boy" for short. Ana's friend's sister, or rather, his girlfriend, called him "Hum," when she referred to him at all (the romance was a very secret thing, apparently). He had a very dark and clever face, and good hands, strong but gentle. We won't go into a whole lot of details, except to say that his girlfriend had written several poems on those magic hands.

He worked in one of the most prestigious stables on the first level of Minas Tirith. There were several other stable boys, but he was the Stable Boy of Gondor. Some went so far as to call him the Shit Whisperer; those who did usually wound up with very smelly black eyes.

When Ana and her friend Lorel visited him in his stable, he was taking a break from what he did best – shoveling up horse manure. He leaned on his shovel, covered in old horse manure and dripping with stanking sweat. For a moment Ana wondered what in the world Lorel's sister saw in him, until he turned around, and then she saw the clever face and beautiful (if dirty) hands, and most of all, flashing green eyes. Ana and Lorel both covered a swoon.

"Hello," said Lorel.

"Hello indeed," the stable boy, sipping from a ladle of water.

"I'm Athel's sister," said Lorel.

"Who?" asked the stable boy, suppressing a grin. Lorel gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "But you'd best be the only one she told."

"Lorel told me," Ana said.

The stable boy took another sip of water, apparently deciding to ignore her.

"Well," said Ana, "Anyway, we know that this is the stable that Amrothos keeps his horse at."

"Who?"

"Amrothos."

"Who?"

"Amrothos," Ana spoke slowly, "Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"Yes," said the stable boy. "Him. Not an unpleasant man, certainly a good tipper, but a bit of an idiot."

"He wants to marry my mistress," said Ana.

"Who's your mistress?"

"Eowyn, Lady of Rohan."

"Her," the stable boy smiled. "That Rohirric lady. Pretty and good with horses, and rich. Is there anything more perfect?"

Lorel coughed in her throat. "Maybe a girl who writes poems about your hands every night."

The stable boy smiled again. He had awfully nice, white teeth, although perhaps it was only in contrast with the manure. "Those are nice poems," he said.

"Anyway," said Ana, "Is there anything you can do?"

"About what?"

"Amrothos, wanting to marry Eowyn."

"What's wrong with that?"

"She's supposed to marry Faramir."

"Lord Faramir?" Suddenly the stable boy stood up straight. There was a sudden soldiery look about him. The girls nearly swooned again. "The Captain Faramir?"

"Yes."

"He has good taste." The stable boy leaned against the shovel again, a handsome, mischievous servant again. "He likes horses, too."

Ana and Lorel looked at each other. Neither of them were sure what to make of that statement. Did he have good taste for liking horses or the Lady Eowyn?

"So you'll help us?" Lorel asked.

"Sure," said the stable boy. "Scaring people away is my business. Besides, I have just the spooky colt." He indicated farther down the stable, and his hair waved a bit, and the girls swallowed a final swoon, thanked him, and left.