For Author's Note and Disclaimer, See chapter 1. Also, this chapter does not fit into the Tolkien timeline. I was unaware of this when I wrote it, and I liked it enough that I chose to leave it as it was. Therefor I beg, forgive me this indulgence.

Chapter 31

If there was one thing that Aragorn had learned as a ranger, it was that there were all kinds of fools in the world. Whenever you felt you had certainly seen the worst the world had to offer, then lo and behold, an even worse one was found, leaving you to wonder if there was any hope at all. There were the naive ones who felt that telling anyone who asked about friends with magical rings upon their persons were a good idea. That thought looking into evil far seeing spheres might be amusing, and that might offer their service upon any Lord to whom they felt a debt.

Peregrin Took aside, there were worse fools, far worse, the ones that you found so much harder to forgive than an inquisitive Hobbit. Pippin had never meant no harm, though he did not think things through he could not really be blamed for never had he acted out of malice. He was simply a young Hobbit with more curiosity than sense and whom still never lacked for valor and courage.

Nay, when it came to fools, Aragorn had seen far worse…

There were those who would challenge any adversary, no matter how superior, out of stubborn pride and anger. Whom would stand alone against the might of a Mumakil out of the belief that one spear was enough to bring such a beast down. Who would charge headfirst against an army ten times the strength of their own. Lash out against the one who had already managed to steal the sense of their King, and threaten a Dwarf standing next to their elven friend.

He could not fault Éomer more than he could fault Pippin, though he wished both would sometimes exhibit a little more caution and prudence. One day he felt they would fall victim to their own rash actions, and he did not know which one of them would be the first one. All he knew was that he worried for them, tried to counsel them to greater wisdom, and occasionally considered locking them up in the dungeon for their own protection…

Who was the most foolish, the fool or the fool that followed them, for was he not even now riding with his friend, and was he not aware that Éomer was seething with barely contained rage and not likely to listen to any counsel. He had to some measure learned to temper his rage since he took up the crown and throne, but he was still the same reckless rider at heart.

Hot headed, rash and woe the fool that questioned his loyalty or integrity. There were certain things that Éomer would never allow, no matter what the situation or opposition. A man, any man no matter their status or size that dared mistreat woman, child or animal would face his wrath. To find a man who had committed even one of these sins would have been bad enough, and Aragorn certainly was not surprised by his foul mood. A small purse of coin had saved the horse from further mistreatment. Aragorn had not even hesitated, well aware that had he done nothing Éomer would have gone after the man with either fists or blade. A poor half starved pony forced to pull a load many times too heavy, and being flogged for failing.

No, had he not acted as he did, he would not have been surprised if Éomer had near well killed the man. Even now he felt that part of his friend's foul mood was because he had not been allowed to exact any form of direct physical punishment. He was also certain that the only thing that kept the Rohan King from turning back to remedy the situation was the fact that he had the abused horse by rein. Aragorn had never even considered anything else but handing it over to him, not only did he hope it would sooth his anger, but he was well aware that Éomer was far better suited to care for the horse. Indeed no other had been able to come near it once it was freed.

The poor mare had shied back from them all, avoiding all touch as Aragorn paid what was really too large a sum for such an animal. He did not do it only for his friend, for he too was greatly angered by the way the poor creature was treated. The problem was that as long as the horse was property of the man, there was little else he could do. Purchasing it was at the moment all he was able to do.

Surprisingly the skittish mare did not seem worried about trotting next to Firefoot, though Aragorn had seen the magnificent stallion intimidate other horses. Possibly she sensed that the war horse had included her into his herd now, for it was easy to see that Firefoot considered himself in charge of the other horses. Only to Brego would he consider deferring.

As they struck camp that night he filled his pipe and sat back to watch while Éomer tended to the horse. The poor creature was much too thin, with ribs protruding and gangly legs. She obviously was not used to being so well taken care of, and Aragorn smoked two bowls of the pipe even while Éomer brushed her. He ran his hands down her legs, felt her back to ensure there was no hidden damage.

"You let him off far too easy, thrown into the dungeons would have been too good for him," the blonde warrior muttered.

"How is she?" Aragorn chose to ignore the venom in the remark. He knew it was not directed at him, though what would have occurred if it had been a subject of Rohan and not of Gondor he did not know.

"She'll never be what she might have been, he must have taken her as a foal, but she'll be well enough," Éomer ran a critical eye over her. "Thankfully she has no real injury, as long as she gets fed proper and not worked too hard, she'll be strong enough for a rider, but what her disposition will be like I do not know. If she can put it behind her, I would consider her for the children, but if she fears every hand, she'll never be good for riding." He raised his own hand slowly to scratch the forehead, and Aragorn noted how she shied back, tossed her head and sought to avoid the touch.

Éomer did not rush her, but he did not release her. With Firefoot moving in to stand beside the mare, Éomer waited until he was allowed to rub her forehead gently. It never ceased to amuse Aragorn how the same man who would charge a Mumak if in the mood, could wait half an hour for a skittish horse to let him stroke her.

"She seems to trust you," he mused. For indeed while she did not take it easily the mare did not fight the Rohir as she had the others.

"Takes patience and understanding, but it will be years undoing that level of damage," Éomer gritted his teeth. Stroking Firefoot over the mule he still held her bridle. Allowing her to see how he handled his own horse.

It did not surprise the former Ranger when Éomer neglected his tent that night and instead laid down next to the mare. Unlike Firefoot who was allowed to roam free as he pleased she was picketed, and Éomer certainly would not let her suffer alone. Debating if he should take his own tent, and the comfort it offered, or not Aragorn looked at the horse. She was nervous and skittish still, and he worried that Éomer might be trampled in his sleep. The King was singing softly under his breath, and whatever it was, it seemed to calm the horse that settled down further. He would think, when it came to horses, that Éomer knew what he was doing, though he worried sometimes that he did not take his own safety into consideration. Should the mare be startled and bolt to her feet, he could be injured. Something he seemed to think to be of little concern as Firefoot settled on his other side.

Firefoot did not concern Aragorn, Firefoot would never do anything to harm his master, and was well used to situations such as they were facing. He had slept beside his master countless of times, and knew better than to rise without caring where he put his hoofs.

Shaking his head he knew there was nothing he could say to make Éomer change his mind, and attempting it would only be to risk angered words between them. It was the only point on which they frequently disagreed and where heated words were wont to follow the difference of opinion. Aragorn constantly felt the warrior did not take his own safety seriously enough. Éomer at the same time felt that as he had been a warrior before he was king, it was a matter of little importance.

Mayhap Aragorn felt different about it because as a fellow ruler, Éomer knew his own troubles better than most anyone. What more, though Éomer was still not aware, Aragorn had known him briefly as a child, and he felt that might cloud his judgment on occasion. It was very hard not to feel worry for the man, when you remembered the tiny whirlwind child he had once been. He never considered his own safety then either, so Aragorn should not be surprised he did not do so now. Éomer was the three year old babe that would leap up to catch a stirrup, and use it to pull himself up, climbing up the leather, to sit upon his grandfather's war horse. Ever so careful that he would not harm the horse in his doing so, but if the child was given leave to ride the beast to the stable, his smaller size would not hinder him from mounting the stallion. To the horse he was no more than a fly in size, nothing to take notice of, and had the stallion tired of him, there would have been nothing the child could have done to control him.

Possibly the horse had known the child took it most seriously, for Éomer was always very careful with the stallion, if his mounting technique was a little interesting for his size…

If anything Aragorn would have thought the horse was amused by the tiny child that would sit on his back to brush him, climbing over from the wall of the stall. He could not even reach to give him apples unless the horse indulged him. This horse however was an unknown and that worried Aragorn.

Especially as he watched in the morning how skittish the animal was, something had startled the mare, and she reared up, tried to tear free, and Éomer held the reins, speaking soothingly to her though he was sometimes nearly pulled off his feet. Whatever had scared the mare, it took the king a good long time to calm her, and yet his patience never faltered. Reaching up a hand to rub her mule, pulling it away when she snapped at him, and then sidestepping the rearing front hooves as if they were barely worth his attention.

Watching one of the steel shod hooves pass a mere foot from his head Aragorn felt himself break out into a cold sweat, though Éomer seemed to truly not care. Instead he shortened the halter a little by little until he held her just by the bridle and though the eyes were large and wild still he was able to hold her head, rubbing the forehead and speaking soothingly to her.

"Do you think she can be saved?" Aragorn felt he had to ask the question as they saddled their own horses, Firefoot appearing slightly impatient though he did not seem to carry any jealousy for the other horse.

"Aye, this is all new to her, but she seems to take it well enough," Éomer agreed as he searched through his pack. Finding only one apple he frowned, but cut it up in halves and quarters. "She's never spent a night out in the wild like this I wager, and she's wondering when we'll turn around and beat her. Once she sees we will not, she should settle well enough, though she'll never be what she might have been. I should have her calm enough for riding soon, but how well she is will remain to be seen." Placing the apple in his palm, one quarter at the time he held them to the mare who at first hesitated, then took them carefully though Aragorn was amused to see that Firefoot laid his ears back.

Knowing the stallion took his apples most seriously he searched through his own pack to see if he had anything to offer. Before he had found one, Éomer made to mount. Keeping an eye on the mare he placed his foot in the stirrup, and just as he was to heave himself up on Firefoot's back, the stallion took a quick step to the side.

Normally Aragorn felt that Éomer would have noticed, but now he had been far too preoccupied with the mare, and no doubt this was what had annoyed his horse. To share his master would for Firefoot be bad enough, but then to have Éomer give away the apple that was rightfully his, oh no, that would be too much by far. Such a crime was not easily forgiven, and Éomer for once not paying full attention to his stallion was thrown off balance to land heavily on the ground. A grunt escaping him as the air was driven from his lungs, followed by muffled cursing as he strove to regain his breath.

Striding past him, as he fought to take in air into aching lungs, and curse his horse at the same time, Aragorn held out the apple he had found to the stallion. "Here you go, mellon nin," he rubbed the horse between the ears where he knew Firefoot found it particularly pleasant. He listened halfheartedly to the Rohir that still had not managed to climb to his feet. Éomer had been completely unprepared for the action of his stallion, that much was evident. Or he would never have fallen so easily. Aragorn had seen him stay on a horse that bucked and reared, and seemingly doing so with ease. No, this time the warrior had failed to prepare himself, though really the former ranger felt he should have expected it. Certainly he must know that Firefoot would not lose his apple so easily…

It was however impressive how the man was not able to draw a full breath, indeed still fighting to draw any breath at all, and yet he was still cursing. He had seen the man with his wife, seeming so gentle and warm, it was almost strange to hear such heartfelt cursing from the same man.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, not phased by the glare he was given in turn. The mare skittered a little sideways as Éomer slowly made it back to his feet, but a wicker from Firefoot seemed to calm her. Now that he had been granted his own apple he was feeling more warm hearted towards the animal. Aragorn was not surprised by the lack of reply, for certainly Éomer would not want to draw any attention to the mishap at all. Truthfully he would have been more surprised if his friend had admitted to any discomfort, and given the stiff manner in which he moved there had to be some he knew.

"Do not ever do that again," the younger man grabbed Firefoot's bridle and locked eyes with him, the glare enough to pacify a mamuk Aragorn would have expected. Firefoot wickered happily and shoved his nose into Éomer's shoulder.

"You are a menace, and you'll be lucky if your hide does not end up in front of my hearth," Éomer growled, but his angry words were accompanied by a fond rub behind the ear. It was an empty threat, as both Aragorn and Firefoot knew. Éomer would never harm his horse, rather would he sacrifice himself. Something that Aragorn had to admit he was not entirely happy about.

"And you," the blond warrior turned to face him, brown eyes hard. "If I ever catch you encouraging him to such behaviour again, your crown will do you no good."

"You misunderstand me," Aragorn tried to keep his voice soothing, much like he would attempt to sooth an angered dog. Hands raised, palms out, "I was merely attempting to negotiate peace."

The snort as Éomer glared at him forced him to bite back a smile, least his friend made good on his threat. Not that he thought he really would draw his sword on a friend. No, Éomer would not do that, but he was young, rash, and though he struggled to hold his temper more now than he had done as a warrior, he was prone to self doubt and foul moods. Feeling he was made a fool of would be enough to not only anger him, but truly hurt him. The anger did not worry him, for it blew over quickly and Éomer had never been one to hold a grudge. His temper might flare faster, but it died even more rapidly. The hurt though, that stayed with him for a long time and that Aragorn wanted to avoid.

"Oh, you find it amusing to reward him, do not take me for a fool," Éomer growled. "And I would consider my choice very carefully if I were you." The young King turned to his horse who perked up his ears. "If a mere apple is enough to buy you, then I would give you over to him and never shed a tear, so if you don't want to find yourself in a city of naught but stone, I would consider my actions very carefully…"

Aragorn was not certain if the stallion understood his words, or just his tone, but he stood meek and still as his master mounted, then turned his head to rub against his leg.

"Forget it, I'm not cross with you," sighing Éomer reached forward to scratch behind an ear before he leaned down to take the halter of the mare. "But if that fool there attempts it again, I might just see fit to tell my sister he greatly misses her stew…"

"You know Éomer, I am not the expert of the law that my steward is," Aragorn mused. "But the last I knew, Regicide was not approved of, be it your own regent or your fellow liege and friend…"

The brilliant smile that was turned his way told him there was no hurt, and no anger, one of the reasons he valued his friend as much as he did. He had seen that treat in Éomer when first they met, the deep emotions just under the surface, the vulnerability he sought to hide, using his anger to protect himself from the fear of being abandoned, of not being good enough. In spite of all the loss he had suffered, there was still the heart of a little boy, golden and bright, shining through. "I am glad we understand each other," he beamed, and Aragorn chuckled to himself.

Neither master nor horse would ever change…

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.