The next day when Éomer came down to my pen, he looked much better, if not completely better, and he greeted me with his normal cheerful self. However, I could detect the strong smell of herbs on him before he even got to the fence, and I knew he wasn't completely well, if he had drugged his headache away.
Éomer performed his usual morning duties in silence, giving me fresh water and hay, and cleaning up the remnants of yesterday's old hay and the various products of digestion that every living thing produces. I didn't say anything, until he returned from dumping the mess wherever it is usually dumped carrying a bucket. From the way he was carrying it, I didn't think it had water in it. But what else would one carry in a bucket?
Puzzled, I stared at him with the most curious expression that I could. What is in that bucket, I asked, it is not water, but water is the only thing that anyone has ever carried in a bucket.
Éomer winced slightly. His headache defiantly still lingered. Timidly, as if afraid that I would suddenly start screaming in his head, he answered, "Just some brushes, Firefoot. I thought you might like a good scratch and to get some of that dirt off of you."
About to react very loudly and inform Éomer that I never said he could touch me, and several other things that would have probably ruined his poor head for life, I stopped myself. I was, truth be told, very dirty, not having allowed anyone near me in years. Most of the timed I managed to ignore the caked grime, because I was used to it. If there was another horse in with me, we would have groomed each other, but I had no heard mate. I was covered in dried dirt, my mane and tail were extremely knotted, and unless I studiously ignored it, it made me itchy. Rolling can only take you so far in the scratching department. It would be very nice to get a good scratching. On the other hoof, I really didn't like the idea of allowing a human anywhere near me, even if I did like Éomer.
I must have stood there for a long time, debating with myself weather or not I would consent to such a thing, as Éomer became tired of waiting and cautiously climbed into my pen with a stiff brush in hand. Almost against my will, I lowered my head and snorted in acquiescence.
I was tense and ready to kick or flee at any moment, as Éomer slowly approached my shoulder in a daze. Everything seems almost surreal he cautiously reached out, his hand hesitating inches away from my flesh. Until that last moment when his hand came to rest on my shoulder, part of me hadn't really believed he would touch me, and another part of me hadn't though I would actually even let him do so. From the expression on his face, he probably didn't think I would let him, either.
I don't know what I was expecting, but it seemed almost an anticlimax. There was nothing spectacular, outstanding, or 'magical' about it. Just a human and a horse, standing in a round pen on a clear spring morning.
It did feel distinctly odd, though, Éomer's hand as it rested on my shoulder. That soon changed to a very pleasant feeling, as the hand was replaced by a stiff brush. I watched, but did not speak as Éomer scratched my shoulder and back, removing large amounts of dust from my coat in the process. It felt very much like taking a good roll, only without rubbing in grit at the same time. It felt good.
Over the next two weeks, Éomer slowly cleaned every last bit of me. Though 'clean' is not really the best word to use. He really removed dirt, dust and burs from me, applying it all to his own body. At first he would not go near my head or my feet, which was smart of him, because I would not have let him, but somehow near the end of those two weeks, he managed to handle my feet and clean my face. He went after them so casually, that I never though to be alarmed or angry.
During that time, we also began our friendship. I learned about his life, how his parents had died when he was still a child, and how his mother's brother, King Théoden, had adopted Éomer and his younger sister, Éowyn. This was how the two of them came to reside in Edoras, though their home was still officially in the town of Aldburg.
Aldburg, Éomer told me, had been built by Eorl, the very first King of Rohan, and had been the capital until Eorl's son Brego had moved it to Edoras. Whereupon King Brego's oldest son had gotten himself killed or lost or something, leaving the second son to inherit the throne and the third son living in Aldburg. This was all significant because it was from this third son that Éomer was descended. Or something. It didn't seem to matter much to me.
Why does all that history matter? I asked him. Surely the goings on of you ancestors have little to do with the world today. They do not exist anymore.
Éomer only laughed, saying that it was not something that could be explained. I would either one day come to understand or I would not. I was not so sure, but let it stand as something I just could not understand.
Through my conversations with Éomer I began to realize that up until this point in my life I had been bored. I think that I never noticed before because I was too busy hating the world, but once I had someone else to focus my attention on someone else being that angry just seemed like a waste of effort. Not that I wasn't still extremely temperamental, but at trying to attack every human that walked by just didn't seem entertaining enough to be worth the effort.
The entertainment value might have been gone, but I still had my reputation to maintain. This was why Éomer was currently replacing a board in the fence. No one else seemed to like me enough to want to take down the broken board and put up a new one while I was in the vicinity. It had something to do with the fact that I had already demonstrated the ability to kick and snap the board, so obviously I could to the same to anyone trying to fix said board. The stable boy who had been trying to bribe me with an apple would probably not be back any time soon.
Éomer did not think my violent tendencies were something to be encouraged, however. He seemed almost exasperated. "Firefoot, why must you be so, so vicious to everybody?" he asked me.
If I was human, I would have shrugged my shoulders. As it was, I replied with a sullen silence. I did not need to explain myself to anybody.
When Éomer realized that I was not going to answer, he continued, unfazed. "You hate all Men. Except for me. Why break me like you broke this board? You would never have to deal with my annoying self again," he told me.
Because you are interesting to me. Because I actually think I might like your company. Because you can hear me, and if you can hear me, then I am not crazy. But of course I only told him, You are not quite as stupid as the rest of humanity seems to be.
"Why, thank you," he replied. He smiled, but it was not the smile of someone pleased with a compliment, nor was it a false smile; it was the smile of someone who was pleased about something they has learned, or observed. It was the smile of someone forming and idea in their head.
I did not ask Éomer what theories he was forming about me. I was curious, but convinced myself that I did not care one bit what Éomer thought of me. It was a lie, but it would have to do.
Later that day he surprised me by coming back to see me as the sun was setting. What?
"I need you to do me a favor."
Ha! What sort of favor? Me, doing some one a favor? The idea was almost laughable. Just a month ago it would have be ludicrous.
"Orcs have been spotted north of here. I will be riding out with Theodred, my cousin, and his men at dawn. We may only be gone for a few days, it may be longer. I need you to behave while I am gone." He sounded agitated.
I glared at him.
"You do not have to be friendly, or even polite! I am just asking that you keep your temper under control. No killing, no maiming, no breaking things. My sister and the stable master have agreed to see that you are unbothered, but someone will still have to come and feed you and clean up. Please, Firefoot?"
I thought about it. It seemed very important to Éomer. If it makes you feel better, all right. I tried my best to sound grumpy and reluctant
"Thank you. It is one less thing to worry about." He raised his hand, as if he were going to scratch my head. Then he thought better of it and walked away.
I almost wished he hadn't.
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Ummm.... Hi
Sorry for the leaving you guys hanging so long.
But I'm back to work on this story, so please leave a review!
