For Author's Note and Disclaimer, see chapter 1

Chapter 5

Having spent a large part of his life as Ranger, moving freely across the land Aragorn found the life of a king quite different. He could no longer come and go as he pleased without someone inquiring about 'why' he was doing it. He knew that Éomer suffered from much the same plight if he thought the Rohir King paid less heed to it. The horse lord ruled over a different kind of kingdom, less ruled by politics and more by the will of the King. There were nobles in his court, and Aragorn knew they held opinions just as those of his own did. Truth remained, if the King of Rohan wished to ride out and see to the herds for himself, the nobles no matter how important they thought themselves to be had little hope of changing his mind.

Written documents were rare in Rohan since the land only rarely used their language in writing. There were times Aragorn wondered if not their lack of official documents were a good thing, as it seemed to be somewhat more effective, but he would have worried about the loss of history. Though stories were told through the winter, he could not help but feel it was important to have them in writing.

He wished it would have been easier to shed the crown and mantle for a day, but it was a rare thing. With Faramir and Éowyn in Ithilien, having settled into a very happy marriage as far as he could tell, Faramir was not as often in Minas Tirith. Then there were Éomer and Lothíriel in Rohan, their union a much more recent one and thus Aragorn had not wanted to impose. One advantage was that both Faramir and Lothíriel had connections with Dol Amroth, prince Imrahil being father of Lothíriel and uncle of Faramir. Since they were also officially a part of Gondor, trips there could be justified, and while it might not be the best route for them, The Rohirrim could quite easily be convinced to travel with them. The young King had spent most his adult life in the service of his King and as Third Marshall of the Riddermark he led his Eored across the plains. Living of the land more than he lived within the walls of Edoras. Aragorn sometimes wondered if he was still not sleeping in the stable from time to time from missing the old days before the heavy crown was placed on his head.

The Eored had always travelled light with no more gear than what was absolutely needed. They slept wrapped in their cloaks in the shelter of their horses. This was not something Éomer would willingly subject the ladies to though, which was why a packhorse with a tent and gear was brought along. It seemed to give the young king of Rohan much amusement to see that Aragorn's small escort was leading their packhorse by a rein. He himself had brought five men, to the ten the court of Minas Tirith had insisted he travelled with. The horse with their own gear walked freely but followed the small escort perfectly as it was trained to do.

Aragorn would imagine that was much the same reason why the packhorse Faramir had brought was walking free with his ten men. Éowyn would no doubt have had a hand in the matter.

It was just about impossible to outmatch the Rohirim in any matter concerning horses. For his own, he would not even think of trying, just looking at the horses Aragorn could tell what a magnificent creature it was Éomer was riding. He knew Firefoot fairly well by now, and had been a little surprised that the horse his young wife was riding was native of Gondor. Until he learned that as it was a gift from her father she was reluctant to leave behind for that very reason. He could most certainly sympathize with that, and at the leisurely pace they were keeping the gentle mare had no trouble keeping up with the stallion next to her. Firefoot seemed to have nothing against it, though he tossed his head from time to time. Aragorn was inclined to believe that was more in objection to their slow progress. It was a trait all the horses native to Rohan seemed to share.

As they rode, the Rohirrim would let their horses run from time to time, and it did not take long for Aragorn to realize it often coincided with the opportunity to catch some game. Every once in a while, one of the riders would take off at a gallop, and when they returned they often had a rabbit, or a bird with them as they returned. Even their king was not above urging his horse into a gallop with a boyish grin as he spotted something moving. Taking the bow from his saddle. Adding a rabbit to what the packhorse was carrying already which Aragorn figured should make a nice addition for their evening meal.

Moving closer as he switched to the other side of his young wife Faramir smiled at his cousin. "You are a far more skilled rider now than when we were young," he mused.

"And yet, I still sometimes feel like a novice her first time in the saddle," she smiled. "Éomer is a very good teacher dear cousin, but Edsel is not accustomed to the commands."

"How the Gondorian manage to get where they wish to go, when they have nought but to pull the reins and hope their horse will indulge them I do not know," Éomer smiled teasingly at his cousin by law. "I should never wish to be at the mercy of my horse in such a way."

"I suppose not, though it usually serves us well enough," Faramir looked down at his own horse. "I had not thought of it in such a way."

"You should be able to control your mount just as well without either saddle or reins, as you do with them," Éomer decided. "Edsel is a fair enough mare, and I will not hold her poor upbringing against her, she takes her training well."

"She requires further training?" Faramir watched the way his cousin sat in the saddle, confident, with reins in hand and found it hard to believe. When young she had been more insecure in the saddle, now she appeared to be perfectly at ease.

"Aye," Éomer however nodded. "She knows nothing but the commands of reins and your heels. I would have her trained properly."

"I certainly will not mind," Lothíriel decided. "It really is quite different cousin."

"I would, I think, like to learn more," Faramir decided and Aragorn watching them smiled to himself. The loss of Boromir had weighed heavy upon Faramir, as had Théodred's death caused Éomer much grief. The two warriors could by no means be replaced, but the two mourning men could find some comfort in each other. Éomer while crowned king was young and had never been prepared for the role. He was a skilled warrior, even more so than Faramir, but Faramir had still found himself taking the role of an older more experienced brother to him, in anything but what concerned the horses. In that, Éomer was the master.

"I will be happy to demonstrate," Éomer told him now. "As soon as we have made camp."

They made their camp by a shallow river where the tents were raised and the men sat about preparing the game caught. With his wife's permission Éomer removed the tack from both Firefoot and Edsel, then with one hand on the neck of the horse sprang up to sit onto her back.

"Mount up," he urged Faramir who had removed the tack from his own bay, leaving only the bridle though no reins.

"I can ride bareback," he smiled softly as he reached for the reins lying on the grass.

"Leave them, you won't need them, or you should not need them," Éomer urged.

"I'll give you a leg-up," Aragorn smiled as he moved over, knowing very well that few mounted a horse as easily as the Rohirrim. They bay turned his head in confusion, then bent it to graze. Éomer, upon Edsel did nothing but touch the heel of his boots to her sides, and the mare walked. a knee touched so lightly Aragorn could not see, but knew would be, and Edsel came around to stand next to Faramir's mount.

"I fear our horses are not trained for that…" the young steward mused softly.

"My sister has been lax," Éomer snorted, earning him a glare from Éowyn. Upon his subtle commands, Edsel turned around again so the two horses stood nose to nose, and Edsel began moving slowly backwards. Turning around once they were clear, and broke into a trot before coming back to where Faramir's horse was grazing contentedly.

Kicking his heels into his sides, Faramir was able to get his horse moving, but soon found that deciding the direction was not easy, and soon the horse was taking his dinner again.

"You should be able to do more than so," Éomer frowned. as Edsel upon his command came to a stop.

"Both I and the horse are untrained in this," Faramir offered a sheepish smile. "In truth, I do not know if he would take such commands at all, even from a horse master such as you. While my father insisted on our skills on a horse, he did rather also insist that the horse be saddled."

"Edsel was not trained either," Éomer frowned. "She is performing most satisfactorily. I would not impose, but if you would allow me?"

"With my pleasure," Faramir contemplated his situation, and without stirrups brought his leg over the horses neck to slide down. Éomer mounted the larger bay with the same ease as he had the mare, the horse nudging Fararmir's shoulder before turning his head to look at the new rider. It was clear the horse was not trained to perform in such a way, as he did not move with the same grace as Edsel had. With a Rohirric command, and a gentle pressure from the rider he did however move forward, and without hands, but with soft Rohirric and gentle but firm pressure from knees and heels Éomer was most certainly in control. It took a little longer for the war horse to come to a stop, as the lack of reins seemed to confuse him. The way Éomer shifted his weight back, and brought his feet forward seemed to convince him though and he slowed finally to a stop next to the other horses.

"He needs training, but he will not be hard to train," Éomer smiled as he swung one leg over the neck of the horse though he remained seated. "Éowyn should have no trouble, for a Gondorian horse, he is a very good horse. Strong, intelligent."

"His ancestry traces back to horses my grandfather bought from Rohan," Faramir smiled. "Though the blood line is not pure."

"There's enough of it," Éomer shrugged as Firefoot came forward. First rubbing his head against his master's leg as if scratching, he then delivered a firm if not vicious bite just under his knee. With a curse, Éomer glared at the horse as he slid to the ground.

Faramir was trying to contain his amusement, out of politeness but Éowyn laughed heartily where she was breaking carrots into pieces and throwing them into a pot.

"I think your horse is jealous, Horse master," Aragorn teased lightly. "It would seem he does not want you to be so frivolous with your attention."

"Aye, so it would seem," Éomer mused as he scratched the big horse between the ears. satisfied the stallion rubbed against his shoulder.

"I think the horse always had more sense than you brother," Éowyn stated, and her brother frowned as he watched her dump pieces of rabbit into the pot. Aragorn to had noted that Éowyn seemed intent on cooking, and felt his apprehension grow as she had added the entrails with the meat. He had a feeling the meal was not going to be enjoyable as he watched her stir the pot with a heavy ladle, adding far too much salt. Éomer looking her way mumbled something in Rohirric to his horse before leaving him to graze. The Rohirrim did not tie their horses to a picket line as the Gondorian had done. Making full use of this Firefoot made his way towards the fire where not only a patch of juicy green grass held his attention, but he found bits of the carrots left on the ground as well.

Having eaten all the pieces off the ground though Éowyn did not seem to appreciate his presence he started nosing at the pot.

"Firefoot! Leave that be!" she snapped as he sniffed at the pot and gave a snort before placing one front hoof on the edge of the pot, tipping it over to nearly put out the fire as the stew doused the flames.

"Firefoot!" Éowyn cried, shoving at him as he turned to dodge her. Kicking the pot with a back hoof for good measure so that it rolled away. "Éomer, control your beast!" she glared at her brother. "The stew is completely ruined!"

"You can not hold him to blame," Éomer was laughing heartily while Aragorn felt nothing but relief.

"Then I shall hold you to blame, you despicable cur!" As Éomer went to stand beside his horse she swung the ladle to deal a heavy blow over his shoulder blades. "You are horrid Éomer son of Éomund. That was supposed to be our supper, and you only laugh?"

"Peace, sister," he blocked a second blow with his forearm as he turned around. "There is plenty more, you shan't starve. Since my horse spoiled your efforts, I shall see to it. Enjoy your husband, dear sister…"

"You had better take care of it, you despicable troll!" she snapped as she threw the ladle at his feet.

"I will help you," Aragorn offered. Better Faramir was free to calm her, for while Éomer had not shown any signs of discomfort he felt the blows must have stung. Éowyn was not an opponent that he wanted to anger, be it armed with sword or ladle. It was however not the first time he saw the shield maiden take her anger out onto her brother. That Éomer seemed to have no problems with it was probably fortunate. For himself, he was glad that the young king seemed to think nothing of drawing her anger onto himself as long as it meant he was not forced to eat her food.

"I think we should soon have a couple of roast quail and rabbit?" Éomer accepted the game that Gamling threw him, a bemused smile on the older rider's face.

Taking the quail Aragorn started plucking the feathers with an ease that spoke of habit. "You have trained your horse to spoil your sister's cooking," he mused quietly enough for only Éomer to hear.

"You think I would do such a thing?" Éomer raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, I think you would, and though I am eternally grateful, you are playing a dangerous game my friend," Aragorn mused.

"Firefoot is loyal, he shall protect me," Éomer grinned as he tossed the horse a carrot from their supply. The young Rohan King prepared a couple of rabbits to roast, and it amused Aragorn to note that out of the two siblings, it seemed Éomer had the more skill when it came to preparing food. The rabbit, roasted simply with herbs and salt was quite good, and with the quail and some roasted vegetables to go with it, it made quite a good fare.

While Lothíriel seemed a little uncertain of the turn of events, by the time they were eating Éowyn was calm of temper, though she gave her brother a scowl from time to time. Something that did not seem to bother Éomer in the least as he was lightly teasing his wife to make her laugh.

It would appear, Aragorn thought, that there were little a Rohan horse would not do for his master as Firefoot was once more content to grace nearby.

A Temporary End

Thank you all who's read and reviewed, the Cricket is thrilled...

Additional Author's note: Some of these stories might not fit into the Tolkien timeline, I apologise for this, I have not yet been able to procure an English copy, and therefor there has been things I was unaware of while writing. Some I've changed, some I've left as I liked them.
Most of the Rohirric I use, is, as I believe Tolkien himself used, Old English. Though some is modern Swedish, as, frighteningly enough, these are quite often the same. In order to give the story a more pleasant flow for the reader, I have opted not to use a glossary at the end, rather, I try to make the meaning very clear in the story.