This story is a mythical, fictitious fantasy inspired by Lord Of The Rings. The main character, Fréa, is made up by the author of this paper. The rest, places, some characters, and native names, are the work of genius J.R.R. Tolkien. Rohan is a kingdom where the humans that live there devote their lives to horses. These people think of the horses before they think of themselves. Many of the horses are descendants of royal and/or horses of legend and myth. Any crime done against the rules of the King Théoden will be punished. The king has a group of warriors called the Riders of Rohan, they protect the city of Edoras, where the king dwells, and ride the hills of Rohan as scouts. The years in Middle Earth are determined by the Age. When the first Age ended, the Second Age began at 1, the year in the story is 3065 in the Second Age. This story happens to be taking place during the fall, around November.

In 3065, in the Second Age on Middle Earth, before the War of the Ring, in the kingdom of Rohan, in Edoras, near the Golden Hall, a young stable hand named Fréa, daughter of Dréa cared for and trained the people’s war horses and horses of royalty. She came from a poor family and moved out into Edoras at 16 years old on her own to make money for her and her family. She loved horses and decided to pursue her passion for them in a kingdom dedicated to them. She had no horse of her own except for a horse she borrowed for the journey from her family’s hut in the mountains of Rohan on the border of Gondor, another human city but more industrialized and war-like. She knew no one there, but boarded in the house of a family much like her own; there lived a mother, a father, and three young children; two rowdy boys and a quiet little girl. It was a small, quiet cottage with neighbors on both sides and a suffering vegetable garden in the back of the yard.

Their father, Hammond, was a guard for the King Théoden, the aged king of Edoras. The eldest son, Harswi, aspired to be a warrior and trained himself with an iron blunt sword of his father’s. He had a job in Meduseld as a servant to the guests of Edoras. Dareling was the talented middle child; he helped his brother a little, but spent most of his time sketching the city. Hana, the young daughter of 6, was a reserved person, and took care of the hens and lambs in the spring. They kindly took Fréa to live with them and help around the house.

She quickly found her job in the stables as a stable hand, cleaning the barn, mucking the stalls, grooming, cleaning tack, and other chores around the stables. Her favorite horses to ride were the rambunctious war horses, war thirsty and full of strength. Occasionally exercising some of the horses, she’d sometimes be allowed to retreat outside the walls of Edoras and run miles to keep up the horses’ endurance.

One horse in particular she was fond of was Alcar, a great deep red chestnut stallion always anticipating to go to battle. His ferocity was uncontrollable to many but towards Fréa he expressed a sweet, understanding nature. He was relaxed with her. They took long rides together, and enjoyed swimming in a secret lake they’d found in the summer months. They grew to trust each other, by playing games and being around each other.

Whenever the horses left for war, Fréa had spare time, but the only thing she wanted to do was be with the horses. When they returned, she’d rush to the stable to meet them, and present the riders with the traditional flowers. She always brought a carrot, fresh grown with the greens on top, for her stallion. He was happy to see her but utterly exhausted from the battle. Her job was to take care of him and ensure he made a speedy recovery. The horse’s rider never did a thing for him.

Stablehands began to notice that Fréa was the only one who cared for Alcar. They asked her for help with problem horses, because of the connection she shared with Alcar. She sometimes used Alcar to help calm frightened horses down, when she worked with them.

Fréa understood that the Rohan people kept the highest respect for their horses, but she could understand why Alcar was nearly neglected. His rider scarcely rode him and was very strict and unforgiving of Alcar when they prepared for battle. They would not cooperate and on a chilly, blustery day something went terribly wrong.

While out cleansing the plains of Rohan free of orcs and Uruk-Hai, the rider was whipping and kicking Alcar for no apparent reason as they charged at a dangerously fast gallop to raid a settlement. The stallion was fed up with the beatings and stopped, reared up and bolted, trying to throw his strong, experienced rider to the ground. He twisted and turned until the disgraceful man flew to the ground and cracked his shoulder on the harsh, frozen, mossy ground. Scared but not unconscious, he rose up and faced his stallion-turned-enemy. He drew his sword, shaking as the stallion backed him along the hill, striking at him and roaring angrily. Summoning his strength, he swung at the beast, sword glazing off the armor on the horse’s breast. Taking a few running paces back, the rider neared the edge of the steep hill and cursed at the war veteran horse. Rearing up, shadow looming over the frightened rider, Alcar bellowed a cry, terrifying and horrible. When his front feet touched the ground, the rider sliced at his left knee and hit bone. The stallion cried out in pain and painfully lunged at the rider, but in vain; he’d jumped off the hill and was rolling to the bottom to escape a certain death, but it was impossible to avoid the later humiliation and dishonor from his people. He had mistreated a prized war horse, the emblem of his country, the prize of the battle. He was banished into exile.

Alcar left the battle, limping home to Edoras, where he knew there’d be someone to care for him. He sighed heavily as he limped away in pain, something we was very familiar with. Over miles of treacherous terrain he stumbled, bleeding profusely in his knee, but not stopping until he reached the center of the village the following morning. Fréa stopped and dropped her armload of dry, crackling, alfalfa hay when she saw that powerful stallion wavering in the street. She sprinted towards him as he fell down on his side, unable to support his heavy body any longer. She was the first to reach him. Alcar nickered in recognition as he laid his head on the dry grass. Frightened, she whispered to Alcar, trying to soothe him as she examined his leg. His leg had stopped bleeding, but it was crusted over in a bloody mess all down his bone below his knee over his black hooves. Spotting Hana, see called out, “Hana! Go get your father! Bring lots of cloth and some water. Hurry!” Unsure what to do, the little girl stood there for a moment before scurrying off to her house to find her family. “Noro lim, Hana, noro lim,” Fréa whispered in Elvish, telling her to hurry.

Turning back to the stallion, she started to untack him and get him in a more comfortable position. She stripped off her top sweater and started to brush off the dried blood down his leg. Alcar sighed heavily and tested his leg, stretching out and in little by little, careful not to kick Fréa. Suddenly, Hammond and Harswi rushed up to them. “I’ve brought cloth and a knife. What’s happened to his leg?” Hammond inquired as he sat down next to the big horse’s belly. “Harswi, run and bring some water, we need to bathe his leg.”

“The bleeding has stopped; I’m just raking some of the crusted blood off away from the knee. It looks like something sliced it,” Fréa told the man, worriedly. “He came into the center of the village and stopped and fell. He had his tack on but his rider wasn’t with him.”

Pushing back in surprise, Hammond cried, “What? This is a war horse! Fréa get back! They’re unpredictable! They’re dangerous!”

She then realized he didn’t know the severity of Alcar’s injury. Fréa pulled free of him dragging her away from the horse and said, “Hammond, wait. This is Alcar, he’s well behaved for me. He’s fine. I’ve taken care of him before. I just need some supplies.” Just then, Harswi rushed over with a large bowl of water, chilled from the frosty air. She thanked him in Elvish, “Hannon le,” and set a cloth in the water. She set it on Alcar’s leg and started chipping off chunks of dried blood. “Get ready with more cloths and water.”

After she finished, the war horse’s leg was bleeding anew. Harswi poured water on the present wound, and Hammond gave cloth to Fréa, wrapping the stallion’s leg to stop the bleeding. Civilians had brought over cloth, and water, and treats for the horse as he lay there, in the center of Edoras. They wouldn’t dare go near the war horse, instead they gave things to Harswi, who took them graciously. Finally getting a chance to sit back down for a moment, Fréa noticed a small child holding Alcar’s head, stroking and petting his face and cheek. Looking up, Hana’s pretty face stared at Fréa, and smiled. Fréa smiled back at the shy girl, and told her, “Thank you Hana, Alcar appreciates your kindness. I’m going to try to walk him to the stables now. Can you ask everybody to move away from him?” Nodding her head slowly, she began walking along the outskirts of the crowd and pushing them back.

Looking back at Fréa, Hana yelled, “Is this good?”

Nodding, Fréa called, “Yes, thank you!” Checking to make sure no one had sneaked closer, she cleared the bowl and cloths away from Alcar. Then she took up his lead, and said to him, “Alcar, come on. Let’s get up. Come on. Let’s go!” Making a kissing noise, she encouraged him to get up. The stallion rolled over onto his legs, and stretched his front legs out in front of him. Then jerked his body forward to get up, but fell back in pain. A sigh of exhaustion came from him as he sat in the crisp morning air. Fréa sighed, but continued to kiss and call out, “Alcar, get up. Come on. You can do it!” Everyone in the crowd looked anxious, and watched in silence.

In one final effort, Alcar thrust himself forward and up onto his three sound legs. Everyone sighed and a few people cheered. Standing there anxiously, peering around at the strange group, the stallion began to wobble. Fréa, Hammond and a stable hand rushed up to his sides to support him. With a man on each side and Fréa leading him, Alcar hobbled to the safety of his stall in the stables. The crowd followed him until his stall, where they packed into the barn and craned their necks, hoping to catch another glance.

By now, everyone guessed what happened to the great war horse. Whiplashes on his hindquarters, foaming, frothing body and mouth: his rider had nearly killed his own horse. Some villagers thanked Fréa, others looked at the now content horse and left.

After the last villager emptied out of the barn, Fréa gathered up her courage, kissed the nose of the great, injured, war horse, and marched out of the stables, and up towards Meduseld. With each step up the stairs, she grew angrier and more determined to report the rider’s crime.

When she reached the top, the guard asked, “Why have you come to see the king?”

She growled, “Corruption amongst the Riders of the Mark.” The guard gave her a confused look but let her inside the big doors. She walked midway to the golden throne, and halted. Some other guard called, “Hail! Théoden, King.” Fréa bowed and stood back up, stiffly. The guard that let her in stood behind her and announced, “Fréa, daughter of Dréa, wishes to talk to the King Théoden. On note of corruption amongst the Riders.”

“Proceed,” said the guard in the shadows.

Looking back at the guard one last time, he nodded and stepped back to his post. She walked forward until she reached the throne, where King Théoden sat. The king was in his fifties, with graying blonde hair and beard. His robes were made of animal hides and furs, only given to royalty or people very wealthy. His wooden throne had been hand-carved, images of horses and stories of great battles danced along the armrests and legs of the chair. Next to him was am elaborate end table. On it lay the king’s sword; it’s sheath had horse heads near the butt of the sword and a blessing was written down the side in the Rohirrim’s language. The room was dark, a ray of light shone from the large doors Fréa came in from and climbed up the walls high above the king.

Bowing once again, she arose to his eyes staring down at hers. Nervously, she said, “My lord, this morning one of the war horses by the name of Alcar came into the village today, wounded and riderless. I know his rider was with a group out hunting the Uruks. Alcar was limping on his front left leg, and after cleaning it off, we discovered a deep cut on his knee, most likely from a sword. Not the short, jagged blades of an Uruk, but of a handmade long sword, like that of your Riders. He was a filthy, sweaty mess, dehydrated after a long, sickening walk home. Across his back is disgraceful, deep whip lash marks.” At this, the king furrowed his brow and sat deeper in his chair. “Most have bled, and will turn into scars. We put Alcar back in his stall, and I’ll continue to look after him and give him all the care he needs to heal. For now, he is comfortable.”

During her story, the king never took his eyes off her. Now, all was silent. Mysteriously, he asked Fréa, “What do you think should happen next?”

Stuttering, Fréa pondered over an answer. She’d expected the king to tell her that, she hadn’t really though about it much. “Well, Alcar is going to need special attention for a while, and then he’ll need to be exercised to stay in shape. As for his rider, he’s gone now. I don’t know what else we could do to punish him.”

Smiling, Théoden replied, “I suppose the harsh winds of Rohan are punishment enough. You have good judgment, my lady. You are a stablehand, am I not mistaken?”

Standing up straighter, she said, “No, you are not mistaken, my majesty.”

“Well, then. I think you’ll be the best person to care for Alcar then,” he said matter-of-factly. And with that, he got up from his chair and began to gather his things. He walked towards the dining tables to the right of his throne.

Shocked, Fréa followed quickly after the king and inquired, “What?! Me? Take care of a war horse? But, I’m not a warrior, I’m just…”

Turning around to face her, Théoden said, “You don’t want him, then?”

Fréa nodded her head. “I’ve never felt the way about another being, before.”

Smiling, he answered, “I’ve seen you ride him, you two are amazing together. He seems truly happy with you. He can stay in the royal stables if you’d like.”

Excited at first, she said, “That would be wonderful! I’d love to keep him!” But then, realization struck her. “But I can’t afford the food, or board, or tack, or anything that he’d need to heal.”

Without hesitating, Théoden exclaimed, “Don’t worry about that, you’ve saved a horse’s life. Nothing can buy that. We don’t his stall for anything, he can stay there. And you and Alcar have gotten rid of a dishonorable rider, too. And, actually, there was something else I would like to ask of you…”

“Yes, my lord?”

The king paused before asking, “You knew almost exactly what to do with Alcar. You handled the situation perfectly. You made a wise decision on the spot. That stallion’s rider was also my advisor, so I’m looking for a new one. I think you can do it. Will you?”

Excited, she broke into a smile and exclaimed excitedly, “King Théoden, I’d be honored to!” She hugged the aged man, in all her excitement, but then stood back, and bowed deeply. Now she could afford to buy things for both of her families, as well as herself and Alcar. “Thank you so much, my lord! I will do my best.”

Smiling and clapping a hand on her shoulder, Théoden chuckled, “Right now, your best is pleasing me. I hope you’ll find the hall comfortable, if you choose to stay here,” and he dropped a bag of small gold coins into her hands. Peering inside, she was amazed at the amount of money inside.

“Sir, is this regular pay?” she asked in awe.

Turning around as he walked away, he answered, “And nothing less, my lady.”