In case any of my readers haven't seen the update in Chapter 2, I decided that this will NOT have any pairings. I think this will make things a bit interesting.
Sorry it took so long for me to update, but I had a bunch of tests and homework. This chapter ended being longer than I expected.
I only own my OC's, but you probably already knew that.
Anyways, enjoy!
Chapter 4: Horses
The stables were dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the open door. Inside, Hunter Malbrooks was finishing saddling her stormy gray stallion, Windstorm. Hunter paused for a moment, staring into the stallion's dark eyes. "You know, Windstorm," she remarked. "I had a really weird dream last night. I was standing on a large battlefield beside another soldier. Both of us were dressed in armor, holding sharp swords stained with blood. Before us stood a tall figure, clad in black robes. An intimidating spiked steel crown rested on his hood, and in his hands he held a huge, deadly mace. The figure swung furiously at us." Hunter sighed. "But then I woke up. Shame, isn't it?"
A voice suddenly called out from outside of the stables, interrupting her thoughts. "Hurry up, Hunter!"
"Yeah, we can't wait all day!"
Hunter rolled her eyes playfully at her friends' shouts, gently stroking the stallion's neck. "Come on, Windstorm," she chuckled, mounting her. "They'll have my blood if I don't come now." Windstorm whinnied happily in response before trotting out into the wide grassy fields. There, waiting for Hunter, were her two best friends. Sara sat atop her jet-black stallion, Nightmare, her dark brown hair fluttering slightly underneath her black riding helmet. Annette slowly trotted over to Hunter on her chestnut mare, Twix. "What took you so long?"
Hunter shrugged her shoulders. "Just got distracted, I guess."
"Who cares?" Sara asked jokingly. "Race you to the fence!" She spurred Nightmare into a gallop across the fields to the tiny line on the horizon that was the border between the neighboring farms.
"Hey, no fair!" Hunter yelled playfully, cantering after her, Annette close behind.
After a few moments, the three reached the fence, Hunter in the lead. "Man!" Sara exclaimed. "I can never beat you!"
"And you even had a head start!" Annette added, earning her a glare from Sara. Ignoring the death stare she had received from her friend, Annette continued happily, "Hunter, let's face it, you are just too fast for us!"
Hunter smiled, gently brushing her dirty blonde hair from her face. "Thanks."
"Hey, what's that?" Sara inquired, pointing to the crystalline orange star pendant around Hunter's neck. "I've never seen you wear that before."
"Oh, this?" Hunter fingered the necklace thoughtfully. "It's a family heirloom. I've had it since I was little." Suddenly, a fierce smile lit her features. "Race you back!"
"OI!" Sara cried, but Hunter ignored her. She kicked Windstorm into a swift gallop. The stallion was named for a good reason, and he speedily left both Twix and Nightmare in the dust.
"I WON!" Hunter whooped as she reached the stables. She wheeled around to face her friends, but found them nowhere in sight. Where are they? she wondered, beginning to pace Windstorm back and forth. She didn't notice that the orange star pendant around her neck had begun to glow.
"Annette?" Hunter called. "Sara?" Suddenly, a bright white flash blinded her vision. Windstorm reared in shock, and Hunter felt the all too familiar sensation of falling off a horse, and then she knew no more.
~o*o*o*o~
Hunter groaned as she awoke. Every part of her body ached, and the bright sunlight hurt her eyes. Windstorm stood over her, gently nuzzling her face.
"Alright, alright, I'll get up," Hunter laughed, using the stallion's sturdy, muscular body for support. She was surprised to find that both she and Windstorm were atop a grassy hill, surrounded by miles of plains. The wooden stables were absolutely nowhere in sight.
"Where in the world are we?" Hunter wondered aloud, twisting her dirty blonde hair around her fingers in confusion. Windstorm whinnied in response, clearly stating I don't know. With a slightly frustrated sigh, Hunter mounted the gray stallion and kicked him into a gallop, determined to find some information. She didn't even notice that her riding helmet had fallen off.
~o*o*o*o~
Windstorm rode across the plains for several hours, hardly ever slowing. Eventually, the gray stallion and his rider crested a large, grassy hill. Here, Hunter paused, surveying the plains before her. To her surprise, she saw a group of about twenty men on horseback standing a little ways to her left. The men were clad in armor, which glinted in the bright sun. Many wore dark brown helmets adorned with red and gold, their blond hair fluttering in the gentle breeze. The men seemed to have noticed her as well. With a sound like thunder, the riders all began galloping in her direction, shaking the earth.
Oh, snap.
Without hesitation, Hunter wheeled Windstorm around and began to canter swiftly away from the riders. The stallion galloped as fast as he could across the grassy plains, but he had already run several miles and was beginning to tire. Soon enough, the riders surrounded her, their spears tickling her neck.
One of the riders came forth. He, like most of the riders, had long blond hair, but unlike many of the men, he was clean-shaven. "Who are you, and what is your business in Rohan?" he demanded.
Hunter raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "My name is Hunter," she stated. "And I honestly don't know what I am doing here."
Another man came forward. "You are lost?" he asked.
Hunter nodded. Both men exchanged glances with each other before motioning to the other riders. The spears were lifted, and Windstorm stopped shifting nervously beneath her. "Our apologies, Lady Hunter," the first man replied. "We did not realize you were lost. Tell, me where is your home?"
"Texas," Hunter answered blatantly.
"Texas?" The second man gave her a confused look. "I have never heard of that land before."
"It's rather far from here," Hunter replied, starting to grasp the situation. "I'm not sure I can even get there, considering that I can't remember how I ended up in – Rohan, did you say?"
The first man nodded his head, his eyebrows furrowing together in thought. "Well, I suppose you can stay in Meduseld with us until you find a way back to your homeland. I am sure Father would not mind."
"He does not mind much these days," the second man muttered darkly to the first. "He does not even notice the orcs and Wild Men that trample over these lands." He then turned to face Hunter. "Come," he instructed. "We make for Edoras."
The rest of the soldiers wheeled their horses around, but Hunter stayed firmly put. "Who are you?" she questioned suspiciously.
"I am Théodred," the clean-shaven man introduced.
"And I am Ėomer," the second man added. Théodred rode to the head of the riders, leading them forward across the grasslands.
~o*o*o*o~
The company galloped at a swift pace across the fields of Rohan. Rohan…Rohan…Hunter mulled the word over and over in her head. She couldn't understand why the name felt so familiar. Something felt familiar about the two leaders of the riders, too, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it.
Soon, a towering hill loomed in the distance. Many small, thatched roofed buildings dotted the slopes, and at the very top stood a grand house, larger than any of the structures below. "Is that Edoras?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," Théodred answered. "And that is Meduseld," he added, pointing to the large building, "the home of the King of the Mark."
The company silently passed through the great wooden gates of Edoras. Hunter did her best to ignore many of the curious whispers and stares she received. The people were clad in garments of dark brown and green, and many wore solemn expressions on their faces. The streets seemed deserted, with only a few people walking along. It was a rather depressing sight.
Eventually, they reached Meduseld. It was a majestic hall, its wooden doors painted with intricate golden designs. The company dismounted before its stone steps, handing the reins of their horses to a couple of rather overwhelmed stablehands. Hunter stood beside Windstorm, unsure of what would happen next.
A hand lightly touched her shoulder, and she looked up to see Ėomer and Théodred standing beside her. "Follow us," Ėomer instructed. Hunter nodded, and the two men led the way into the hall.
As she passed through the great wooden doors, she noticed a pallid man staring fixedly at her. He was clad in black, and his hair hung limply beside his face. Ėomer had seen this as well. "That is Grima Wormtonuge," he informed her, a bitter note in his voice. "Pay no heed to him."
The three continued to stroll down the dimly lit halls of Meduseld. Eventually, they stopped in front of a dark wooden door engraved with an image of a horse rearing. "This is where you will be staying," Théodred stated.
Hunter gently pushed open the doors. The room was simple, yet grand. A bed sat in the corner, turned down with burgundy sheets. A plain chestnut dresser rested against the dark wall. Another door led out of the room, presumably to the washroom.
A grin broke out on Hunter's face as she examined her accommodations. She turned around to face the men. "Thanks."
Théodred and Ėomer nodded in reply, small smiles upon their faces, before exiting the hall. Hunter stared at their retreating backs pensively. Théodred…Ėomer…Rohan…where have I heard this before?
Suddenly, it all came together, like the pieces of a puzzle. The Lord of the Rings! Hunter exclaimed to herself. Gosh, I haven't read those books in at least two years.
~o*o*o*o~
"What news from that festering hole of Rohan?" Saruman asked the pitiful creature groveling before him.
"There is a newcomer in the Golden Hall, milord," Wormtongue informed him, "a young girl of Men."
Saruman scoffed. "Is she not from Rohan?"
"No," Grima answered. "She does not hail from Gondor, either. Her manner of dress is strange to me." Wormtongue paused for a moment before adding, "She bore a strange necklace: a six-pointed star, carved from vibrant orange crystal."
The White Wizard froze at Grima's last words. He quickly pushed himself out of his dark marble throne and strode to the shelf where he kept the volumes of the history of Middle-Earth. Saruman seized a large, leather-bound book, hurriedly flipping through the yellowed pages.
Eventually, he came across a detailed illustration, one of the few colored ones in the book. It depicted five six-pointed stars, sparkling in some unseen light. One was carved of pearl, another of amethyst, another made of emerald, another of sapphire, and…
"Ah!" Smiling in triumph, Saruman traced the outlines of the bright orange star drawn on the page.
"So the Elenmîr are returning," the White wizard murmured, a dark tone in his voice. "Oh yes, they will be very useful…"
I hope you liked it.
Again, sorry about the long wait.
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