Disclaimer: Did I mention that Middle-Earth is not mine? Well, in case I didn't, now I have...

Broken – Chapter XIV

The White Horse & The Wizard

Edoras, September 3010 T.A.

"Come on, cousin. We haven't got all day."

Théodred chuckled at his younger cousin's eagerness. It was barely dawn and they had a whole new day ahead of them, and yet Èomer was barely able to restrain himself.

But oh, how familiar it was. Only a little more than four years ago, he had been in the same position – sixteen, reckless and shaking with anticipation for the day ahead. Théodred had been calmer, more composed, but he sensed the same genuine thrill and seriousness in Èomer.

Théodred had often wondered why the younger boy looked up to his older cousin, who was only four years older. He had even asked his father if it was so wise that he at twenty would take Èomer to the herd when it was time.

Théoden hadn't even flinched when confronted with the matter. He had simply said, "Nah, my son. It is true that there are more experienced tutors around, but that's not what I want for Èomer."

The King had barely been able to suppress a smile. "He needs someone sincere and impulsive, passionate and gentle, yet stubborn and strict enough to keep him under control. Someone he admires… and only you, Théodred, fill those requirements."

And that is why he was taking Èomer to the herd in the mountain valley. It was with great effort that he managed to keep Èomer from running towards the horses the moment he saw them. The younger boy did know, though, that this required patience. Perhaps more patience than ever had been expected of him.

And, so they waited. Théodred by their mounts and Èomer closer to the herd…

The sun rose above the treetops and warmed the plains, and Èomer sat unmoving in the grass. Théodred had felt a surge of pride that day. One day, Èomer would be a great man and rider of Rohan. There was no doubt about that. His heart was certainly big enough.

When the sun stood at its highest point, Èomer's patience finally paid off. A young, grey colt came slowly towards him. Théodred could see it was a fine horse, with long legs and a strong neck. He guessed it was an offspring from the crop three summers ago.

The horse stopped beside Èomer and the boy slowly stood up. At the movement, the horse stamped a bit nervously and backed away, but Èomer didn't flinch. He simply extended his hand and called for the colt to come closer.

Théodred turned his gaze towards the heavens with a smile, and as he looked back towards his cousin, he saw him stroking the horse's neck. With a soft voice, careful not to startle the colt, Théodred spoke. "Bring him here, Èomer."

The boy turned with the grey following him, and Théodred couldn't suppress a smile. "What will you call him, dearest cousin, for it is obvious that this horse is to carry you?"

Èomer smiled. "I don't know. His eyes are gentle, but fiery in a way… and his coat a cloudy grey. I saw him run with the other young horses and a swift lead he has. Tell me, cousin, is he really mine?"

"If he so has chosen… then yes! He's a fine horse… and a fiery one. His coat is an odd color, too."

Èomer's eyes suddenly widened and a smile crossed his face. "Firefoot. I will call him Firefoot."

Théodred laughed softly. "Not a bad name at all. I'm sure the King will be pleased to hear about your chosen mount."

Èomer's smile suddenly faded, his expression becoming thoughtful. "Théo, you once said that the King brought you here as well… but, isn't Brego from one of the Westfold herds?"

Théodred gave Èomer the smile he knew too well. Even at twenty, he seemed older and wiser than most newly grown men, but he could still be mischievous.

"Yes, he is. And I waited for him a whole damn day until he decided to trust me. You see, I had had my eyes on him for a while already... and he was my choice as much as I was his."

Èomer looked baffled. "Then what happened when the King brought you here?"

Théodred turned to look at the remaining horses and whistled brightly.

An almost snow white horse with silvery white mane, pricked its ears and neighed as its gaze fell upon the prince. With high borne strides it galloped up to the two Rohirrim.

"Èomer, this is Fréaláf."

Théodred looked at Éomer, only to find him gaping at the sight before him. "He's one of the mearas, isn't he?"

Théodred nodded.

"Why ever did you break Brego instead of him?"

"You must understand, dear cousin, that as one of the mearas, Fréaláf is wild and proud. I did not have the heart to take that freedom from him. He belongs to the plains, much like Shadowfax himself… but our friendship is precious. Perhaps one day that friendship will pay off… and I will ride him."

"Yes, one day… when you're King." Èomer said with a grin and a roll of his eyes.

His cousin was only four years older than him, and yet he was so… well, different. He was slowly starting to understand what the King and the men saw in Théodred. There was more than a regal face and a skillful warrior to him.

Èomer's thoughts were interrupted by Théodreds' even voice. "I could perhaps ride him… but I could never break him. His soul and spirit is too strong to be broken."

-0-0-0-

With the sound of dripping water in his ear, Théodred smiled at the memory. At least one of them was still unbroken and free. His fair Fréaláf was still out there somewhere, waiting for his rider...

Edoras, September 20th 3018 T.A.

Before the guard blew the horn, Èowyn could spot a lonely traveler approaching the hill of Edoras on foot. He wore a worn grey cloak and a pointed hat, and Èowyn had the feeling she knew the stranger.

She left her post on the stairs and went inside the hall as the stranger walked up the hill, leaning on an old walking stick. It wasn't very unusual for travelers to pass by the horse lands, but not many came all the way to Edoras. Especially not from the west... or on foot.

As Èowyn had expected, the stranger walked tiredly into the hall some time later. His pointed hat was pulled down to cover his face, but his long beard was clearly visible. The guards, Èowyn noted, moved their hands to rest on their swords. Apparently the King's advisor had made sure that no visitors were to be given a warm welcome. The stranger, however, ignored this.

"Greetings, Théoden King, son of Thengel. A long time it is since I last visited your fair hall… and I must say that the warmth has somewhat lessened."

Théoden sat up straighter on the throne. "Gandalf the Grey. I can not say I'm very glad to see you at these times… but I can assume that a Wizard comes and goes as he pleases."

"You are correct, Théoden King. I wish not to intrude, but I had hoped for your hospitality."

"What brings you to Rohan, old friend? I thought I had banned you a few months ago." As the Wizard walked closer, the King's advisor appeared beside the King and whispered something in his ear.

"These times as you put it, I'm afraid. Listen, Théoden. Long have we been friends, and long have we listened to each other's advice… and I do pray you will listen to mine now."

"I am well aware of the alliance between Isengard and Rohan. It's been many years since that alliance was formed… and I myself lived in respect for my superior, Saruman the White… but no more."

"Saruman is no longer with us, Théoden. He has betrayed your borders to Wildmen and Orcs, and has fallen in his greed for power."

Èowyn listened to him in shock where she stood.

"I have witnessed the extent of Saruman's betrayal myself. It won't take long before Orcs will raid your lands in larger numbers than ever before. I would heed the wise, Théoden King, and muster what riders there are to keep the borders not just in the east, but also in the west. You need to prepare your people…"

"Lies." Wormtongue spit out and turned towards the King. "Why would Saruman betray us, my liege?"

"Théoden, you must stand up and fight. The days of peace are over and the time of battle is about to begin. Don't be the first to fall."

Théoden raised his hand to silence the Wizard. "I don't wish to speak with you, Gandalf the Grey. Now go… and don't come back. You are no longer welcome in my halls. Take whatever horse you want, except for my own Snowmane, and be gone before dawn."

If Gandalf was shocked by the King's words, he didn't show it. It was as if he had expected it. "Then, with your permission, I wish to take the fastest of them all. Shadowfax."

For a moment, the King looked furiously at the Wizard, but then a dry chuckle escaped his throat.

"Do you hear him? Do you hear the old Wizard? He wishes to have Shadowfax, the Lord of all horses. I haven't seen such arrogance in a very long time."

Théoden stepped down the stairs. "A horse that has refused to carry the King himself and yet is the pride of our land. You can always try, Gandalf… but that horse will never carry you."

Gandalf bowed his head ever so slightly. "I thank you, Théoden King. I shall only return to your hall to release my chosen mount from your power." With that he turned around and left the hall.

Èowyn, who had been standing by the side, hurried after him. "Master Gandalf?"

When coming into the sunlight, the Wizard slowed down, his grim face turning into a warm smile. "Ah, Èowyn daughter of Eomund. What is on your heart?"

"Please, I heard everything. I want to understand, to finally know the truth."

The Wizard sighed and stopped at the top of the stairs. "These are not good times. Be careful, Èowyn. I wouldn't put too much trust on the King's advisor either."

Èowyn frowned. "Strange that you should mention it."

"Why so?"

"He used to say it... but none of us believed him. I tried to believe him, but I'm not so sure I ever truly did. Not before it was too late."

"Who?"

"My cousin." Èowyn said under her breath, obviously reluctant to mention his name.

"Ah, the Prince. I was just going to ask how your brother and cousin fare. Out on the plains, I assume. I do hope they have more sense than your unfortunate uncle."

"That's what I was getting to, Gandalf. 'Sense' is a harsh word in these lands nowadays. Apparently Théodred did have sense… but that was wasted. Èomer is in the Eastfold… but my cousin..."

Gandalf frowned, but waited for her to continue.

"The King banished him several months ago. And his last weeks here… they said he had lost his mind… and that all he said about Orcs and Saruman were lies. And I ended up betraying him."

"Listen, Èowyn." The Wizard turned to look at her straight in the eye. "Your cousin was probably the sanest of all of you. If there's any way for you to reach him, do so. Rohan may need him…"

"It's too late for that. My cousin is dead."

Gandalf's frown deepened, but he didn't seem taken aback by the news. Èowyn's heart lightened, though, at his next words. "No. No, your cousin's not dead."

She pushed away the tears and looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I remember now." Gandalf assured her. "How odd..."

"What's odd? What do you remember?"

Gandalf blinked and looked a bit confusedly around. "Oh, just an old man rambling."

His old face became serious again as he looked at Èowyn. "Do your land and Prince a favor by keeping this a secret, Èowyn. And..." He paused, throwing a quick glance in the direction of the Golden Hall. "Don't leave the King's side either."

Before Èowyn could ask him more about why he believed Théodred was alive, the Wizard had descended the stairs and vanished.