Light of Edoras

Chapter 9

Aragorn took his saddle from the tack room, his thoughts consumed by the looming battle when he was jerked back to reality by heavy stomping and yelling. He looked up to see a large horse frantically tossing his head, his eyes white with fear and his sides heaving. Aragorn put his saddle against the wall and slowly made his way closer to the horse.

"Where is Fram?" one of the stable boys shouted desperately holding a rope attached to the wild horse.

"He doesn't have time for this, growled another, who reached out and grabbed a young boy running by, "fetch Lady Lyrian will you boy?"

The young boy nodded, his eyes almost as wide as the horse's as he dodged about the flying hooves and ran from the stables.

Aragorn continued to walk closer to the rearing stallion

"That horse is half-mad my Lord, there's nothing you can do," said a passing soldier, "Leave him."

Aragorn acknowledged the soldier but did not stop easing towards the horse. The soldier walked away shaking his head at the Ranger's stupidity.

"Faste, stille nu, faste, stille nu," he said in a calm voice taking the rope from the stableman. The horse now glared at him wary of the newcomer.

"Lac is drefed, gafregon," he said slowly reaching up to stroke the horse's broad face, he took away another rope from the stableman as the horse calmed even more, "Hwaet nemnad de? Hm? Hwaet nemnad de?"

"His name is Brego," said a soft voice, Aragorn turned to see Lyrian watching him with a sad smile, "He was Theodred's horse."

"Brego," Aragorn said turning back to the horse in front of him, "Din nama is cynglic."

Lyrian watched Aragorn closely reminded of when she was a child.

"I remember you," Lyrian said softly as she too reached forward to stroke Brego's shoulder, "You visited Edoras when I was a child. You taught me more about horses in a month than Fram had taught me in a year."

Aragorn smiled remembering the bright-eyed young girl who had followed him watching as he spoke to the horses. He had watched her speaking to her small pony in broken elvish before he had decided to take her under his wing.

"I am glad to see that you have not forgotten what I taught you," Aragorn said, "I hear you are desired more than Fram to calm the most troubled."

Lyrian nodded, "Fram is better than most but is not patient. Horses need just as much patience as a young child."

Aragorn nodded removing the ropes from Brego's halter.

"I never thought before," Lyrian started, "I have heard of the magic of the Elves, but I would not have looked for it in a Ranger from the North," Lyrian turned to look at Aragorn who smiled under her scrutinizing gaze, "You speak as one of their own."

Lyrian did not miss the distant longing in his eyes as she spoke.

"I was raised in Rivendell for a time," he said slowly, "Turn this horse free, he has seen enough of war."

Lyrian watched as he grabbed his saddle and left the two alone.

"Gandalf the White. Gandalf the Fool!" seethed Saruman slumped in his great chair, as Grima paced nervously in front of him, "Does he seek to humble me with his newfound piety?"

"There were three who followed the wizard," he said, trying to worm his way out of punishment, "An Elf, a Dwarf, and a Man."

Saruman wrinkled his nose, "You stink of horse," he said plainly looking up at Grima for the first time since he entered the chamber, "Good Lord, what have you done to your face?" he asked though not a hint of pity in his voice.