A/N: No I haven't given up on this fic, as this update will show, but unfortunately it will always get a bit of a back seat while I'm focused on Cities Apart. Hopefully, that won't bother you too much as there is no over-riding plot, it's just randomness given form. Anyway, now I am back some explanation is in order. Got the idea for this chappie whilst looking at the special features on the RotK special edition DVD, in particular the art work. It was a commentary on the picture of the Mouth of Sauron's horse, saying they wanted to make it look evil and unnatural…unlike the Ringwraith's horses which were afraid of their riders! Knowing this I think you can tell where my idea came from. One extra note…it may be a while before I update Cities Apart, as my A2 exams are fast approaching and I feel the suddenneed to do some revision. I will start writing properly again as soon as possible! Now, the great guys and girls that put up with this randomness:

Not your average: Yes, well we've discussed the 'doth'…no more to be said. Glad u liked the rest, and u got ure Cities Apart too!

Phoebe Telametar: Thank you so much! Hope this next one is worth the wait.

Estelendur: Yes, I too felt the world needed an explanation of why he couldn't use his fricking wings! Glad u liked it, sorry for the wait.


Disclaimer: The fact I'm not dead convinces me I didn't write LOTR, I hope it convinces you too.

Warning: Watch out for pounding hooves and horse death. Other than that you'll be ok.


Chapter 3

We are home, or as close to as our masters will allow. The rock walls are everywhere, closing in, pressing, trapped, no space, no air, no light. Fear is a current through the herd, we try to find comfort in each other but none has comfort to give.

Then those watching give the warning. They are coming. Head toss, hooves stamp…but we must submit. Rough hands fasten the leather round our heads and sides. The stench of death permeates them, such that we would flee from it, if only we could. But they are our masters; we were bound to them by the dark power and so can never be free.

But as the gates burst open we can finally run! Though we cannot escape the ones who ride us we can feel the earth under our hooves, the wind gusting past…all trying to build the illusion we are a simple herd once more.


But now they break up the herd. Our link is safety, and without it I am alone and vulnerable. Part of us knows none would dare attack the masters that ride us, but instinct can never fully be denied.

I run on soft grass and woodland paths now, instead of bruising stone. Only when my master dismounts can I truly feel the life that pulses through the wood, life that his presence stifles. I can smell the little ones he hunts, but I will not reveal their presence. I too know what it is to be hunted.

When next I smell them such mercy is beyond me. My master rides and so I am his obedient servant. Almost. When we reach the water I refuse. My death should not matter to me, but I will not die alone…far from the herd. But the herd is returning, I hear their greetings on the breeze, and then we are one once more.


And now we run together yet again, chasing purity. We feel our master's anger from when they returned from the hill-top, smelling of smoke and fire. They urge us to chase faster after our white cousin, but in truth we need no urging. He and his rider shine with a sense of life and goodness we had almost forgotten, and we would sacrifice anything to be near it once more, even if such actions would cause their death. Still they evade us however; our cousin not weighed down with the metal plates our master's wear.

We halt on different sides of a wide ribbon of water. As they try and force us to cross, we can feel the power building as protection from our masters is invoked. As we reach the centre we can hear the rushing water as it comes pounding round the bend, faster than we can run. Yet still we try.

But then, voices intrude on our panicked flight. From within the water come sounds of welcome, of welcome to the herd. From the edge of our vision we can see foaming cousins, part of the water though alive in their own right. They call to us, and we answer.

Finally, we have the strength to disobey. We plunge down the river bed, fighting the sawing commands at our mouths to turn for the safety of the banks. The crushing wave rolls over us, but then we are free. We are home.