Chapter 2:

"Sissie! Sissie!"

Irideth was woken shortly after dawn by her five-year-old sister somehow managing to leap all the way onto her bed and landing right smack on Irideth's belly. The eldest sister jerked awake as her breath left her lungs faster than a horse who'd spotted a snake.

"Adina! Land sakes, you're getting too big to keep doing that!" Irideth wheezed, leaning over and clutching her now-sore belly while Adina laughed loudly at the foot of the bed.

"Come on! Come on! Daddy's going to see Master Geirwulf today and he says we need to come, too!"

Irideth laughed. "Okay, I'm coming! You have to get out, though, so I can get dressed!"

Adina, thankfully, was too excited to argue and ran out the door with one more yell to "hurry up!" Irideth pushed the covers off and slid out of bed. She ran over to the little wardrobe her father had made her for her last birthday and pulled out one of her two working dresses, the dark green one. Pulling it over her head and tying and old leather belt around her waist, Irideth ran out the door. She could hear Adina hopping about in the kitchen, and sure enough when she walked in Irideth was met with the sight of Adina hopping from foot to foot in excitement while Mama tried to convince her to eat something for breakfast.

Irideth giggle quietly, slipping behind her exasperated mother to grab a small slice of bread and one of the apples Cevin had picked in the orchard yesterday.

"Look, Adina! Look how red this apple is!" Irideth exclaimed, pretending to be in awe of the fruit in her hand.

Adina gasped, running over and bringing Irideth's hand down to her eye level. "It's pretty! And so round!"

Irideth gasped too, as though an idea had just come to her. "I know! You can eat half this apple, and when we go see Master Geirwulf, you can give the rest of it to Aisling!"

At this marvelous suggestion Adina became too excited to speak. She managed a squeal between excited bounces, then grabbed the apple and bolted out the front door almost faster than eyes could track. Irideth almost couldn't breathe through her laughter. She was barely aware of Mama's loud sigh from behind her.

"That child, sometimes," Mama muttered, walking forward and lifting Irideth back to her feet from where she'd collapsed on the floor. "Thank you, Irideth," she said, turning the girl around and brushing strands of grass from her dress. She smiled down at Irideth. "What made you think of Aisling?"

"Adina loves that pony to death. Suggest she do anything for Aisling and she'll do it without a thought," Irideth answered.

Mama smiled. "My clever girl," she said, pressing a kiss to the top of Irideth's head and holding her close. "Run on now, before she decides to run off to Geirwulf's without you."

Irideth giggled, pressing a quick kiss to her mother's cheek before running outside after her sister. The village the Evjen family called home was not very large, consisting of barely more than fifty residents. There was a single inn with only two rooms which were rarely even used; the village was not situated along any main roads or trade routes. People traveling from Gondor to Rohan, or vice versa, rarely traveled so close to the Firien Wood; they would take more direct routes. The only reason the inn had lasted so long was because Derda, the innkeeper, knew a thing or two about brewing ale. It didn't hurt that she wasn't a bad cook, either.

Most of the town's income came from Geirwulf, who bred horses for the Marshals of the Mark. His herd was small compared to most of those raised by families closer to Edoras, but from what Irideth had heard Geirwulf's horses were the smartest in Rohan.

Geirwulf's home and the town stable were just a few houses down from the Evjen's, at the end of the street so there was plenty of space for the horses. Irideth walked about as quickly as Adina could manage, holding her sister's hand to keep her from running off after whatever insect or plant caught her attention. She kept her gaze straight ahead, ignoring the narrow-eyed looks directed their way from the few neighbors who were out this early. Most people didn't act on it beyond dark looks, but Irideth knew these people didn't trust her relationship with the wolves, and the looks still made her nervous. A few of the men would sometimes go as far as name-calling; Tyrhir had on more than one occasion even thrown rocks at her.

He'd steered clear of her since her father had given him a black eye when he'd caught him in the act, and Geirwulf, who'd seen the whole thing, had promptly thrown the degenerate drunkard into the pig's feeding trough. The message had been felt quite keenly for a while; Geirwulf, as Horsemaster, was the most respected man in town. Seldor was well-liked as well, and when both had made it clear that they would defend Irideth the bullies had backed off for the most part.

Still, Irideth was determined not to hang about in the street any longer than necessary, and she pulled Adina along until they stood in front of Geirwulf's stable doors. Heaving together, both girls pushed it open and were confronted with the sight of their father kneeling beside a stall door, inspecting some sort of damage done to the boards and devising a plan of repair with Cevin.

"Hi, Daddy!" Adina called, running over to the pair while Irideth ate the slice of bread she'd grabbed from the kitchen, reveling privately at the sweet scent of oats, hay and horse.

"Hello, there, little lady," Father said with a smile while Cevin rolled his eyes behind him. Irideth grinned as she finished off her bread.

"Look, Daddy! I brought an apple for Aisling!" Adina said proudly, showing off her half-eaten fruit.

"Why, so you did! I'm sure she'll like that very much. Why don't you go with Cevin and give it to her?"

"What? Why me?" Cevin interjected. "I thought I was helping you!"

"I don't have the right nails we'll need to fix this; I need to go back to the house and get them," Father explained, glancing at Irideth as she made her way down the aisle toward them. "And Geirwulf wants to talk to your older sister."

Irideth blinked in surprise. "Me? What for?"

Father grinned, ruffling her hair. "I think it's about that stallion you've gotten so friendly with."

A grin of her own spread over Irideth's face before she could stop it while her heart leaped in her chest. Father laughed again as he stood.

"All right, run along all of you lot! I need to go back home and get the nails. I believe Geirwulf's in the eastern pasture, Irideth."

The three children ran off almost instantly, Cevin and Adina further down the row of stalls to fing Aisling and Irideth out the door that led to the eastern pastures. She spotted Geirwulf almost immediately, leaning against the fence and watching the horses milling about in the fields.

Irideth reached the man at the same time someone else spotted her, and with a whicker a young buckskin stallion broke from the herd and began trotting over to the fence. The second the horse had turned toward them, Geirwulf recognized what the steed's attention meant and looked down and saw Irideth come to a stop beside him. With a broad smile, he leaned down and picked the girl up, setting her on the top rail of the fence just as the horse reached them. Irideth immediately extended a hand, palm out. Snorting happily, the horse quickly pressed his nose into it. Irideth giggled, reaching up to scratch between his ears. Irideth felt Geirwulf's laugh rumbling in his chest.

"He'll be ready to train soon. He's just turned four summers."

"He's grown a lot," Irideth said. Geirwulf chuckled again.

"You youngsters tend to do that," he said.

"You're not that old, Master Geirwulf!"

"Oh, no? Thank you for saying so, Irideth, but it won't be long before I've got more gray in my hair and beard than yellow."

Irideth giggled, but she really didn't think Geirwulf was as old as he said he was.

"You think you're going to be up to the task, girl?"

The abrupt turnabout had Irideth blinking owlishly for a few seconds as her mind worked to catch up. Was Geirwulf saying that he wanted her to train the stallion?

"You want me to train him?" Irideth asked.

Geirwulf nodded. "Him, and if you do well enough, the mares in his band as well."

Irideth's toes curled against the wood of the fence anxiously. Training one of Master Geirwulf's horses was a distinction none in the village had had in half a decade, not since Aevrin Herenssen had been caught trying to sell some of the prized foals to a shady character out of the East. Thankfully he'd been caught before the deal had been struck; most of the horses Geirwulf bred and trained were sold to the Lord of the Mark, King Theoden, for use by the Rohirrim. The horses were the little village's livelihood since the trade routes had dried up with rumors of war in the East. If Aevrin had stolen the best foals of the stock, the town wouldn't have survived the year.

The boy had been run out of town after being publicly disowned by his family; no one knew what had become of him, only that he had been heading in the general direction of the Dagorlad when he fled.

No one spoke of that anymore, except perhaps in hushed whispers in the inn after a mug or two of hard ale.

"You want me to train… all of them?" the girl asked, feeling her face blush when she realized how high-pitched her voice had gotten; she sounded like a scared mouse!

Apparently following her train of thought, Geirwulf nodded solemnly. "You have the makings of a Horsemaster in you, Irideth. A great one. You can get these animals to listen to you better than some grown men can." At this he laughed. "Heck, some of the younger ones listen to you more than they do me!"

"You cannot be serious, Master Geirwulf," came a low, rasping voice from behind them. "You've have the wolf girl watching your horses?"

Irideth felt bile rise in her throat as she and Geirwulf turned together to face Tyrhir sitting on a rock by the side of the road, a bottle of what smelled like mead in his hand. Irideth's hands clenched on the fence, nails digging into the wood when he sneered at her.

"She'll probably feed the whole lot to her pets," the man went on, taking a long swig out of his bottle when he'd finished, then throwing it away upon realizing it was empty.

"If Carantar and his pack wanted these horses, they could get them easily enough without my help," Irideth said, eyes narrowing. "Besides, they don't like horse meat. Too stringy."

Behind her, the stallion snorted as though insulted. Irideth giggled when he nuzzled the back of her neck, nibbling lightly as though demanding of she thought that were true. She reached up and stroked his nose in apology.

"Get back to your seat at the inn, Tyrhir," Geirwulf said. "There's none here that care to hear your words."

"Probably none at the inn, either," Irideth muttered. The stallion whickered.

"Respect your elders now, Irideth," Geirwulf chided, though she noticed the slight upward twitch of his lips.

"Only those who've earned it," she answered evenly.

At this Geirwulf turned and eyed her speculatively. The girl met his gaze evenly, one hand reaching up to pet the stallion when he nosed her shoulder. Eventually Geirwulf saw something that appeased him, for he smiled thinly.

"Fair enough, I suppose," he said.

"With all due respect, Master, ya can't trust the b…. girl," Tyrhir amended when Geirwulf turned his head to glare at him. "She's friends with a pack of wolves! You know better than anyone the old stories! How those beasts served the Dark Tower! She'll be runnin' off with the whole herd over to the Black Land before any of us can blink!"

"Like Aevrin?" Geirwulf's voice had gone dangerously soft as he began to stride slowly toward the other man. "Like that young man everyone claimed was so upstanding? So honorable?"

The last word was little more than a growl, uttered as Geirwulf came to stand over the man sitting on the stone before him. Tyrhir's smirk had disappeared, but he was still not moving, just sitting there glaring up at Geirwulf. He didn't realize h danger until the larger man had grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up so his feet were at least a foot off the ground. Tyrhir squealed and thrashed like a stuck pig but Geirwulf was strong, body conditioned by years of hard labor in the fields and the town's single orchard; there was no way someone as scrawny as Tyrhir was getting away from him.

"You are despicable, Tyrhir! A born wretch!" Geirwulf spat, face twisted and reddened with rage. "You care for none but yourself; you never do a lick of work around here, living off coin you cheat from those so mazed with drink they can't see straight or those that don't know your tricks!" Now he brought the man's face closer to his own. "And now you have the nerve to accuse a child… an innocent, eight-year-old girl, of working in league with the Enemy?"

Tyrhir opened his mouth to reply, but surprisingly seemed to think better of it when he noticed the disbelieving looks he was getting from some of the nearby villagers. Geirwulf threw him roughly away; the man landed with a painful-sounding thud but managed to scramble into a sitting position within a few seconds, glaring balefully up at Geirwulf as he did so.

"Get you gone! And do not return, lest I set my dogs on you!" Geirwulf's voice was a low growl.

Tyrhir glared, but the man was nothing if not cowardly; he stumbled to his feet and half ran, half tripped his way down the street, a few people throwing jeers and stones his way.

"He's not the only one, you know," Irideth said to her feet as Geirwulf came back over, still fuming. He gave her a questioning look and she elaborated, "He isn't the only one who is afraid of me being friends with the wolves. They aren't going to be happy about you taking me as an apprentice."

"'They' who?"

"The rest of the village."

Geirwulf stared at her for a few seconds, then sighed. "Girl, why'd you have to be so smart?"

Irideth couldn't help her giggle. "Papa says that sometimes, too."

Geirwulf laughed. "I bet he does, clever little sprite that you are. And don't worry about the rest of the villagers; they'll come around in time."

Privately Irideth doubted it, but she smiled at Geirwulf anyway. She had no warning before the man lunged forward and scooped her up in the biggest bear hug she'd ever received in her life. Irideth shrieked, laughing breathlessly as the man held her easily with one arm, ruffling her hair with the other.

"Come on now, little beauty, let's get you and this horse into the ring and see what you can do."


Irideth emerged from Geirwulf's training ring several sweaty hours later, covered in dust but grinning from ear to ear, the buckskin stallion trailing obediently a few feet behind. Geirwulf, who'd been leaning on the rail chewing a piece of grass as he observed, nodded in approval.

"Not a bad start at all, girl," Geirwulf said. "Not all of them will trust you as quick as this lad; he's known you since he was barely a weanling. You'll work them around to you, though."

Irideth simply smiled again and raised her hand, signaling the horse to approach her. He did so eagerly, trotting a couple of steps forward to press his nose into her open palm.

"Have you chosen a name for him yet?" Geirwulf asked; Irideth could tell he was smiling slightly behind his beard.

"No. I haven't ridden him yet," Irideth replied. In Rohan, trainers named the horses, and usually did not do so until after they had ridden a steed.

"Well, then we'd best get to it, hadn't we?" Geirwulf said, face breaking into a broad grin. Irideth barely kept her jaw from dropping.

"You're… you're letting me ride him?"

"You're his trainer, aren't you?"

Fair point, Irideth decided. She glanced up at the stallion, who was staring at her expectantly.

"Don't think we'll need to bother with a saddle with him, and his lead will work just fine as a rein," Geirwulf said.

Then they both froze. From the other end of the village came the sound of a horn blowing, loud and rapid bursts, as though whoever was blowing it could barely hold it steady.

"The warning horn," Geirwulf breathed in disbelief. "Orcs are attacking the village."

As though cued by his word, a piercing scream rent the evening air, followed by fainter snarls, grunts and the sound of clashing metal.

Irideth went to run back toward the village, feeling her heart wanting to burst out of her chest. She screamed in protest when Geirwulf, moving impressively fast for someone of his age and size, seized her by the waist and hauled her up onto the horse's back.

"Stop! I have to get back to my family!" Irideth cried, moving to dismount. Geirwulf grabbed her shoulders and kept her in her seat.

"Your parents are clever folks, they'll be able to get themselves and your siblings to safety. It's the horses the monsters are no doubt after; we're in the most danger anyhow! I need you to lead the herd away from here and possibly distract the beasts. Do you understand, Irideth?"

Irideth nodded and gave a shaky smile. Geirwulf grinned and clapped a hand on her knee. "That's a brave lass; now go! Quickly!"

Irideth straightened and dug her heels into the stallion's sides. Trumpeting to the skies, the horse took off at a fast canter. With loud whinnies, the rest of the herd galloped to catch up.

Irideth simply held on for dear life, allowing the stallion to choose their direction; she'd ridden before, of course, but never bareback at such a rapid pace. It did help not to think about the scent of smoke she was now picking up on…

Irideth abruptly leaned back, bringing the horse to a stop as she threw her head back and howled, a distress call that echoed far over the fields and forest. Then, using the lead and her feet as cues, she eventually managed to turn the reluctant stallion back toward the burning village.

"He wanted a distraction," Irideth muttered, digging her heels into the stallion's sides again, harder than last time. He took off at a steady canter and Irideth, breathing deeply and gripping the mane, kicked him into a gallop.

She guided the herd around the outskirts of the burning village, gritting her teeth in her effort to ignore the screams and horrid, guttural laughter that punctured the evening air. They came upon the main attack force from the south-east; Irideth realized how lucky they were that the wind had blown the smoke to cover their approach. With a loud cry, she drove the herd right into the middle of the orcs' war party.

It was immediate chaos. The orcs, not expecting an onslaught from the war-horses, scattered every which way to avoid being trampled. Those who had been mounted on wargs were for the most part flung off as the beasts reared and howled in alarm. The villagers the orcs had captured or been in the process of attacking seized their chance and fled.

And Carantar and the Firien Pack, howling for blood, attacked from the opposite side as the horses, trapping the orcs in a deadly pincer maneuver.

Irideth drove the stallion toward the wolves, guiding him to trample as many orcs as she could. The stallion, apparently over his initial hesitation, trumpeted loudly as he drove through the enemy ranks. Carantar and Mithlas, having spotted Irideth, began driving their way through the orcs to get to her, Mithlas fighting with all the fury of a mother intent on saving her pup.

Suddenly the stallion leaped sideways; Irideth barely managed to keep her seat. She was about to yell at the horse when she realized, heart in her mouth, that he'd just saved her from getting her leg bitten off by the largest warg she'd ever seen.

And astride this warg was an orc carrying a black banner with the symbol of the Eye stitched into it; the captain.

The orc sneered at her, baring what few teeth he had. "Little tark. Lost your little mama, did we?"

Irideth tightened her grip on the stallion's mane, only now recognizing the familiar burning pain in her gut; it always happened whenever she was angry or scared. Sometimes it even felt like her throat was full of fire, or that she was capable of shouting loud enough to knock down a tree.

These creatures dare invade MY home, MY territory, and have the audacity to mock me?

"I haven't lost anything," Irideth growled, happy her voice only shook a little bit.

"Not yet," the orc agreed, drawing a wicked-looking sabre from a scabbard concealed at his side. "But ol' Nargush will make sure you lose that pretty little head!"

With the last word, Nargush spurred his beast forward. The stallion, trumpeting furiously, startled the attacking pair by rearing, driving a hard kick to the warg's head and killing it instantly.

Unfortunately the unexpected rear sent Irideth toppling off backwards; she cried out as she hid the ground, all the breath leaving her lungs practically instantly. She could hear Nargush snarling in fury, could see through swimming vision the stallion moving to stand protectively over her.

Irideth rolled from beneath the horse so he stood between her and the orc, eyes stinging, tears sliding down her cheeks because of the smoke. Hearing a howl and a pained scream, Irideth turned as quickly as she could to see what had happened.

Too quickly. The smoke had affected her worse than she had thought and she found herself tumbling over backwards, landing in front of the horse.

Only… Irideth felt a moment of confusion. Her horse's legs weren't black the whole way up. Her horse wasn't completely black. Her horse wasn't wearing a saddle, and he definitely wasn't wearing an armored bridle.

Irideth felt a chill run down her spine. Her mouth opened of its own accord, but no sound made it past her lips.

The strange horse's rider was garbed completely in black, the hood of his cloak completely concealing his face, armored boots just barely visible in his stirrups.

A Nazgul.

And, even with her blurred vision, Irideth could perceive that its hooded face was focused on her.

When the figure began to lean toward her, reaching out an armored hand, Irideth did scream, a loud, terrified cry. The creature reared back as though in alarm; the black horse startled as well.

And with furious howls and snarls, Carantar, Mithlas, Nimril and Edwenor all fell upon the dark rider at once, biting at the horse's legs and fetlocks.

The Nazgul gave a piercing cry and Irideth knew no more.