The Lord of the Rings and all its themes, people, places, creatures or names do not belong to me at all. The Stable girl however, does belong to me.

This is the longer story I've mentioned a few times, thought I might as well, but it won't be as long as most chaptered stories.

Hope you all love this new one!

This story carries straight on from Stable Girl: New Age, New King.

Chapter 1

After a moment she remembered herself, unfolding her arms and looking down at her scrubby gown she tried to wipe away the dirt. Turning to the empty stall her slept in she moved her hands up to her head; to find a tangled plait with bits of straw stuck in it. Sighing, she slumped down on to her make shift bed and propped her chin up on her messy hands. Looking round, her eyes stopped on an elegant palomino filly that stood restless in the stall opposite. She stamped her hooves down in protest to not being taken out for the ride as well.

"Morwen!" Glancing back she saw one of the other stable hand's waving to her. He was a young boy, about twelve, and surprisingly skinny despite his strength. His face was twisted with worry by the time he had run over to her. "What on Valar are you doing?"

"I'm taking Roheryn out for a ride. She has not been ridden for many days and has been growing ever restless..."
"But…"

"…would you rather she become so restless that she hurt herself or her rider when the time comes?"
"Well no…"

"…then why, Ceorl, are you stopping me?" Bowing shyly, he watched her ride out of the gate and into the open fields beyond before returning to the stable's to continue mucking out.

The filly responded to even the slightest command and enjoyed the skill that her rider showed. They wound their way threw an entanglement of trees, gracefully weaving in and out, both enjoying the freedom of being out in the wilderness. As their got deeper into the woods and the forest floor softer and uneven she slowed the filly down to a calm walk. I'd never be allowed near the stables again if I broke one of the horses' legs when riding, especially unasked. The sun shot down threw the gapes and the gusts of wind made the branches of the great trees wave around, sending eerie shafts of shadow and light across the ground. It was pleasantly quiet; only the occasional bird song and rustle of leaves breaking the silence.

Roheryn halted suddenly, almost sending her rider flying over her head. After a moment of calming the young filly down, Morwen realised that the bird songs had ceased and there was something foul lingering in the air. The filly shook her head in protest and gnawed at her bite; she was not too happy. Both horse and rider looked all around them, the feeling of cruel eyes on them, with cruel intentions. The sun sank behind some ominous clouds and the breeze ceased. Something foul is hunting us.

There was a suddenly gust of wind which spooked Roheryn into rearing, sending Morwen flying off her back. As her foggy vision cleared she realised she was on her back staring up at the treetops with a throbbing pain in her head. The woods seemed deafly silent until a panicked whiney and dreadful screech of joy brought her out it her daze. Sitting up she could see an orc jabbing up towards the rearing filly's face. Just as she got up to defend her mount a thunderous war cry echoed from behind her. Both she and the orc froze in fearful anticipation as the sound of heavy foot beats approached. Turning, Morwen's breath was sucked from her lungs as her eyes came across a band of Uruk-hai marching straight threw the woods towards them.

Chapter 2

Her scream was cut short as an Uruk fist knocked her back down to the forest floor. Bleeding from her nose and mouth, she somehow stayed conscious enough to see the Uruk-hai slaughter the orc. Roheryn bolted as soon as the orc and Uruk-hai started fighting, sure that her rider had been killed. Once the orc's head had been cut loose from its previous residence the remaining Uruk-hai turned to their smaller quarry who still lay dazed on the ground.

An armoured foot stomped into view in front of her nose and she whimpered quietly before preparing for what was to come. So I die alone at the hands of Uruk-hai, a bit later than I expected too. Blood sprayed from her mouth as the foot kicked her in the stomach, sending her impacting into a tree trunk.

Blackness; cold, silent and painful. The sensation of strong arms wrapping round her, picking her up. A warm solid chest moving up and down steadily beside her. The sound of bird songs again and hoof beats in a canter. A familiar and comforting smell. Heated breath blowing on her cheek. Lord Éomer?

Her eyes rolled open to take in the sight of an unfamiliar room, decorating in the white horse of Rohan and knots. Rising up, she sat for a moment taking in the room; it was cosy; a roaring fire blazing in a magnificent fireplace, beautiful pictures of ancient battles and majestic horses carved into wood, rich green and red tapestries hanging. Moving her attention down, she found that the bed cloths were soft and warm, very different to the haggard rag of a blanket she had in the stable. They too were embroidered with the white horse of Rohan, the rich dark green and red making the horse stand out. The room was empty, and there was no sound from outside the closed door. Climbing out of the bed reluctantly, she made her way over to the door and opened it. The corridor seemed to stretch out for an eternity and grew darker with every step forward she took. Entering the Golden hall, she found the huge fireplace in the centre blazing, casting odd shaped shadows across the walls. It was just how she remembered it from when she last entered the great hall when she was a child. But still she found no one; the entire of Meduseld was silent. Looking to the throne it was covered in dust and cobwebs and it seemed worn and broken. Suddenly a great pounding came from the doors and they shook as if been struck by a battering ram from outside. The pounding was amplified to the point of agony by the emptiness and every time the doors were struck the throne grew older and pieces started to drop off. Morwen's cries for help came out as a whisper over the hammering and she spun round in search of anyone. The doors suddenly burst open, the fire puffing out and a black mist swarmed in, enveloping everything. Just as the dark fog reached her feet the throne collapsed into ashes. As the fog slowly started to rise she could feel bony hands clutching her and stabbing into her. Every scream of agony and fear from every battle ever fought throughout the ages invaded her hearing and deafened her. As the mist consumed the entire hall, leaving only a small space around her head she saw the face of a burnt skull thrust towards her.

Morwen's eyes flickered open, her breathing was shuddered and she was covered in a cold sweat. Realising she had just been dreaming she steadied her breath and turned to studying her surroundings. It was the same room from her dream. Turning her head to the side she saw the slumped figure of a nurse smiling softly at her. "Nice to see you're awake." Morwen tried to open her mouth to speak her thanks but found that her mouth was as dry as a desert and her lips and stuck together temporarily.

Chapter 3

"Thank you." She bowed her head and smiled weakly as she finished the cup of water. "You had a bit of a nasty encounter in those woods. Orcs I hear. It was a sure goods thing King-to-be, Lord Éomer was about hunting the same beasts else Valar knows what would have come of you."

"I daren't think of it."

"Don't you dare! Lies yourself back down." Morwen put her feet back under the quilt and lay down. I need to get back to the stable, Ceorl needs me. "Young Ceorl is doing just fine without you for now. But you, you need your rest." She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again when she realised it would be pointless. This woman would probably carry me back into bed. Taking a deep breath, she winced as a sharp pain stabbed across her stomach and she remembered the foot.

After a while a dark figure stood in the doorway, face hidden in shadow. The nurse looked over to the visitor and bowed politely before leaving just as the figure stepped in. Lord Éomer frowned with concern at the young stable girl lay in the bed in front of him. She must have been only nineteen, her long wavy red hair draped over her shoulders and those soft lips finally regaining their original rosy colour. Her face was pale underneath the dirt and her sharp grey eyes piercing the darkness. The dying fire casting gentle shadows across her face.

He made his way over to the fire, his muscles rippling underneath the rich dark green tunic. His wavy blonde hair falling in front of his face as he bent down to rekindle the lacking flames. She watched him as he stood back up and leant on the fireplace. His face illuminated light orange as he stared into the flames, deep in thought. After a long moment of silent contemplation she felt herself stiffen up as he looked to her. His face was unreadable as she prepared an explanation in her head to why she was out alone and unarmed. Morwen couldn't tell if he was going to be angry, upset, relieved or suspicious, if he was going to speak at all. "How are you feeling?" her mind went blank; not quite the question she was expecting. After remembering herself she looked down shyly. "All the better thanks to you, my Lord." He stepped away from the fire and looked straight at her, hands held behind his back. "Why were you riding in the woods alone?" his face seemed more concerned than angry at her reckless behaviour. "The filly was very restless, my Lord, and I thought it best to exercise her so she wouldn't become a danger to herself or her rider. Please forgive me, my Lord, I did not think." She looked away ashamed of herself, in putting the young horse's life in danger.