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quillofspirit · 1 year ago

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The Woman and The Horse - Part 1

Tropes; Slight cowboy AU (some elements only), platonic relationship. tw; loss, grief, some injuries mentionned Word count; 4,100

Éostré doesn't know where she belongs. The thing she does know? Wherever that is has horses. And when she gets there, it will have one more, if Réod has anything to say about it.

Read it on Ao3 here

Chapter 2 here

Header photo credits: Valley and Mountain by Sharissa Johnson Horse and Woman by miinaphoto

It felt like she was making the right choice, deep in her gut. Her method had proved true thus far, except about working for that ass-hat of a man. That had been a mistake. Yet the optimistic and kind part of her knew it had provided many things, not least the means to get away from it. No, she did not think it would feel this way if it was not what fate intended.

For every choice she would make, and no matter how little she later regretted it, there would always be a cunning voice in the back of her head that made her wonder what she might have achieved if she only stayed and fought. It had come back as soon as her employer started berating her for his misfortunes, but it had quieted as she gathered her life in a bag. For the first day, it stayed dormant, unheard over the excitement of the open road and the promise it held. Then it crept through her thoughts until it was all she could think about. That second night, she barely slept, so taken with memories, her soul could not find rest. She thought of the horses left behind and she hoped Lithuion would not be discouraged by her departure. The young man had promise, and he learned fast, but had a sensitive soul. The horses loved him for it and the innkeeper took too much pleasure in torturing it.

Despite her employers' open dislike of her, and his attempts at making the patrons laugh at her expanse, she had a good relationship with most of them. They appreciated her hard work and the care she gave their horses. She gave good advice and she did not do it for the extra coin it sometimes brought her way.

Since she was little, it had been about spending time with horses. Her parents did not have one for the first decade of her life, but many of her neighbours did and as soon as she could, she was doing chores for them. The small things, like cleaning manure and brushing. That is what she liked most, it felt very therapeutic.

At first, even if she loved watching them, she was afraid of getting too close. She saw them work often, and snap tree trunks almost as thick as she was beneath their hooves. In fear, or maybe common sense, she kept her distance in the pasture, using the tools to keep herself clear of those strong legs. After a few years of working with them, she lost all nervousness around the horses. The bigger one was the sweetest mare she ever encountered, often nudging her for scratches and nuzzles.

She rode for the first time on a sunny summer day, when she was 11. She was cleaning the pasture for her neighbour, the one with the two big bay horses they used for lugging wood and lent to the people in town. That day, the neighbour provided a step and showed her how to climb on. When she refused, he might have insinuated he would find help elsewhere if she did not attempt to ride.

The big mare was just as sweet as she always was, calmly waiting for her to settle. She did not move as the girl clambered on, and found herself almost having vertigo. She was sitting quite comfortably, the back wide as it was, but kept a tight grip on the mane and her eyes alert for any twitch.

She looked quickly down at her neighbour still gently petting the mare’s neck and calmly reminding her to keep her eyes up. She struggled to look anywhere other than the horse, until the mare turned her head and played affectionately with the tip of the girl's shoe. She giggled despite herself and felt the knot in her chest loosen, two fingers letting go of the mane to scratch the mare's wide neck. With little warning, her neighbour took the lead and asked the mare to walk.

The girl's hands clung to the bristly mane a little tighter, and her body to the mare’s. She had never seen the horse do anything to endanger someone, and she had gotten more than close since working with her. Yet sitting on the mare and trusting her instead of her own feet felt just a little out of her comfort zone. Since working with the big mare, the girl had learned her habits and quirks. She knew this horse, had giggled at her affection and put her hands on her neck for warmth on more than one chilly mornings.

Little Éostré breathed in deeply and forced her muscles to relax, hands loosening just enough to smooth her fingers into the horses’ coat and feel her. It felt fuzzy, and she remembered how she had nuzzled her only a few minutes ago, as they were approaching the tall fence, the soft nose sniffing her cheek. She had closed her eyes at the sensation.

She focused on feeling the mare move, the muscles rippling under her legs and the heat radiating. It felt almost cozy. Slowly, her eyes drifted up, and met her neighbours', flashing a proud smile. He asked her to lean back and keep straight, making the mare slow to a stop. Her neighbour slung the rope over the mare’s neck and told her to hold it only enough to feel the horse, to communicate with her. This was the way to speak to her for now, though later she would learn many other ways.

Slowly, she made the horse walk and turn each side, until she was no longer looking at the ground but where she wanted to go. When she stopped finally, she flung her feet to the same side and let herself fall into the arms of her neighbour. Getting up had been stressful, as she did not want to kick the gentle mare’s side with inexperienced feet, but getting down was accompanied with the slow realization that she had never been that high in her life, and she was feeling very grateful to the mare for making her feel as safe as she was on her own two feet, if not safer.

A few weeks later, she pat the horse as she told her how nice it was and how happy she felt to have gotten the experience. The mare’s ears twitched and she snorted, lifting her head and looking towards the house with a worried expression. She did not get scared easily, used as she was to loud and sudden noises, this was something Éostré had not heard. The girl tried to sooth her by running a hand on her side and talking to her, but she pawed at the ground for an answer and trotted towards the house.

The young girl was left to run after it, her heart beating loudly in her chest with each stride she took. If the mare was worried, and urgently addressing the situation, she needed to alert her neighbour quickly. The wolves might be getting closer again, and there had been a horse which warned a family of a fire, likely saving all of their lives. She hoped it was not the latter, she knew her neighbour loved his house. He spent much of his free time tending to the small garden of flowers he planted for his late wife.

When she caught up to the mare, the nervous movements had turned frantic and it threatened to make the young girl panic. The grey mare stopped pawing only to lift both front legs and stomp, her snorts coming quickly and in short, powerful bursts. It was clear she was impatiently trying to be understood.

Little Éostré stood watching, helpless, until she saw the mare rush into the fence, like she was telling the girl where to run. If she had learned anything, it was to trust the mare. Éostré squeezed through the planks and ran to the house. She called for her neighbour, and made her way to the front, where he surely would be. She gasped and skidded to a halt, so fast she almost lost her balance, when she finally came upon him.

Sprawled on the ground, her neighbour held his side with one arm. He did not appear to realize her presence yet, so taken with pain. She looked at him, eyes wide and breath coming rapidly, but she wanted to look away. She should have, she knew her mother would have been telling her to, while she tended to him with the kind care she gave all her patients. But she was not there now.

Her neighbour groaned and took in a sharp breath through gritted teeth as he tried to sit. She sprang forward and took his free arm to help him, earning a hiss of pain. He opened his eyes sharply and she pulled back into herself, afraid to hurt him further. They argued for a little while, but she knew he needed help she could not provide.

This was not a simple wash and bandage, he was holding his arm firmly and his wrist, the one she had grabbed to help, looked swollen and out of place, sweat already beading on his face. She took him by the bicep and together, they sat him by the house, so he could rest in the shadows while she fetched help. She told him she would be quick and he responded with a strained 'be careful'.

The young girl ran back to the mare, still nervously pacing by the fence and letting out frightened snorts. Éostré climbed to the top plank and told the mare they needed to get help, which the horse seemed to understand. Despite her nervous behaviour, she came to a stop before the girl, offering her back. Éostré climbed before hesitation took hold.

As they made their way to the village, she urged the mare to a faster pace, fear creeping up her throat. She was more afraid of getting help too late than falling off. Only as she was clinging to the horse, trying to stay on, did she notice the other horse running beside them. Hopefully, that would be enough to catch the villager’s attention quickly and she would not need to get down by herself.

Her mother would often recall the day her daughter came galloping into the square, on the biggest horse the village had ever seen, and saved their neighbours life. It was both her proudest and scariest moment. She helped the neighbour and her daughter successfully calmed the horses that evening, by giving hay and stroking them. The village took turns caring for their neighbour, but none wanted to take the job of the young girl, not when she looked incredibly happy doing so, and when the horses listened to her every word.

9 years later

Aragorn observed the roots in his hand, known to him as galadhûl, something he could always find a use for. He carefully slipped them into his satchel and was once again reminded of its fullness. Whispers had brought him on the Great West Road, where he travelled to reach the Westfold in Rohan. He was investigating talks of raids from Dunlendings becoming more frequent. It was a strange thing indeed if they were encroaching on Rohan's land, and more concerning if the Rohirrim did not push them back.

Straightening, he started in the direction of the river, where he splashed his face with water. He spent a moment admiring the strong flow of the stream and the fish swimming underneath, between rocks and short greenish plants. Before long, he caught himself dinner and he sat on a log, smoking his pipe while a fire crackled beside him.

He extended his hand to turn the fish, but stopped midway, his head tilting to the forest and keen eyes scanning the treeline. There, between bushes and bark, came a faint rustling and something that sounded like an exasperated voice. He stayed still, wondering if whoever was there would pass by.

His interested expression turned to concern once he heard a woman yelp. With one swift movement, his pipe was abandoned, his sword in hand and he was stalking to the forest, though his pace quickened when he heard the woman arguing.

"I cannot go back, but you will. If you do not, the consequences of your absence will fall on me, however far I am." She sounded adamant, but her voice had a touch of fragility that betrayed her true feelings.

About 30 paces in front of him stood the woman. She wore practical clothes, the type hunters preferred for the freedom it offered, of forest green and brown, though she didn't seem equipped to hunt, with only a few satchels at her hip, and a bag strung around her back. She was looking up at a horse, but branches from nearby trees kept its rider hidden.

As he approached, Aragorn strained to see who she was speaking with. The horse, a fit dark bay horse, was advancing on the woman, who held a hand and met its head to slow it down. She didn't seem to be afraid of it, her hand softly stroking its nose.

"I cannot go back," she insisted but looked mournful to voice it. "It would ruin what is left of my heart for my affection to be forbidden once again."

Getting in the middle of a lover’s affair was often messy, and seldom ended well, least of all for those who made it their issue. Aragorn was just falling back when the horse moved again, pushing the woman almost off balance and bringing the sword strapped to the saddle into view. It was a fine saddle, and a finer sword still, clearly some well-off individual, though Aragorn might have guessed it by the horse.

The woman sounded determined to stay away, but the armed rider did not seem to be standing down. Aragorn could lament his dinner later. For now, he corrected the grip on his sword and made himself known.

He appeared from the woods and opened his mouth to intervene but found himself at a loss for words. The woman and horse turned in what he would later call a comically wide-eyed expression. For a moment, all stood still and he returned their confusion when he noted the absence of a rider. Like they were one, the woman and horse took in his sudden apparition until their eyes fell to his sword.

The horse moved first and if he had any doubts before, its agility and boldness proved its good standing. It was a fine breed, strong muscles evident beneath a shimmering coat the colour of a bold wine. The horse placed itself between the woman and Aragorn, fore legs raised and ready. Taken aback, the ranger put a few more steps between them and raised his free hand in surrender.

The horse lowered its feet but snorted decidedly in his direction, still keeping the woman hidden from view.

"I mean no harm," Aragorn spoke over the horse, "I thought I may be of assistance when I heard your voice."

From behind the protective horse came a soft voice, lowly speaking to it. It didn't seem to agree, pawing at the ground and snorting again in his direction. The woman came into view and grabbed the reins firmly. She looked at Aragorn, eyes squinting despite the shadows of the tall trees, taking in his appearance better now that surprise had worn off.

"Are you alone?" She asked.

"I am," he answered, "though it appears you are in good company."

Her eyes creased in amusement, but the rest of her face remained passive. Aragorn saw her hand tighten around the reins, just in time to keep the horse from advancing on him. She was judging his character, deciding whether to let loose of the reins, and he returned the favour in curiosity. Her overdress was a soft green and well-loved, held at the waist with a thick belt from which satchels and a coiled rope hung. Despite her lack of apparent weapon in the face of a strange armed man, she was facing him squarely and he suspected she would stand the same without the presence of the very protective horse. He wondered briefly how far its rider was, a steed ornated thus was rarely abandoned.

There was something in her eyes that seemed satisfied with his patience, and he doubted the absence of words was the reason she broke the silence.

"Réod seems reluctant to let me leave."

The horse, Réod, looked at the woman and nickered in approval.

"He seems to care deeply about you, not many horses would protect someone so eagerly," Aragorn said.

The woman looked at Réod, and Aragorn saw the affection in her eyes. She had not been talking to a rider at all.

"Since you are in no need of protection, may I offer a fire and a fish?"

He had not imagined he would be sharing dinner with anyone, and Aragorn was forced to cut his fish in two, though he guessed the woman would not have noticed if he had handed her a whole hog. She sat on her folded cape, absentmindedly petting the horse grazing beside her. Whether her inattentive stare was the result of her present situation or the one that had her fleeing in the first place, he did not know. The ranger did not think he could ask, and so he offered the less burned side of the fish.

"I apologize for the taste, I was not careful as I should have been," he said.

Her eyes focused on him, like she was just now realizing where she was, and she accepted the plate readily.

"I could not judge a meal offered in kindness," she replied easily "especially not when I suspect I am to blame for whatever it lacks."

He did not have much of an answer to that, so he smiled softly and went on eating his diner. Aragorn had not expected her to be so well spoken. He had not expected Eostré to be ungrateful at all, clearly she knew how to speak respectfully, but she still seemed hesitant to share anything about herself beyond her name. He had resisted the urge to ask, and as the sun laid for the night, the itch moved to the back of his mind and he could almost forget it completely. What he saw was a young woman, haunted by the paths laid before her, and determined to make the right choice.

She ate slowly, much slower than he did, and when she noticed his empty plate, she searched through one of the saddle satchels, now on the ground beside her. She found what she was looking for, wrapped in a fine cloth. Her movements slowed as she set it upon her knees, and she stared at it for a moment, like it would offer its opinion. Whatever she had been looking for, she shook her head and opened the wrap to reveal a loaf of bread and some cheese. She ripped the loaf in half and offered one to him.

His look of curiosity turned to amusement and he took it. Despite implying the horse's owner would not forgive her, she knew the man or the satchels well enough to know where to find stashed food. Aragorn's curious mind mulled over the mystery before he bit into the bread and let its soft flavour take over his mind. It was good bread, clearly the work of a talented baker.

She took a few bites of her diner, finally, before she started to talk.

"I want to thank you for your generosity." She said, looking at the flames between them "Both of this fire, your food, but also your willingness to intervene when you thought my life in danger."

She offered him a bit of cheese, that he took with eagerness.

"May I ask what is it that brings you so close to the Drúedain Forest? Most avoid it for fear of the Wild Men that are rumoured to live within," she asked.

Aragorn searched her face for any traces of fear or disdain at the mention of the Forest Folk, and was surprised to find her watching his own.

"I don't intend to wander into their forest. They wish to be left to themselves and so they should." He answered, his gaze softer, but still inquisitive. "I am travelling eastward for now, following the Great Road"

She nodded at that, and he continued.

"I am a Ranger, I go where the winds takes me," her eyes showed understanding and he asked "What has you travelling this close to the forest if you know of what it hides?"

She took a few moments to decide what she could answer. She did not trust him, that much was evident, but not because she distrusted him. She was simply cautious and knew her situation was precarious. He kept his demeanour casual, and did not let the weight of her gaze affect his.

"I find myself in the unfortunate position of having to move Eastward. I do not have much, fortunately, and was hoping I might find work in the next village." She spoke finally.

Aragorn cocked an eyebrow.

"The next village Eastward is at least a 4 days walk."

She sighed at that.

"I realize that our meeting has been most unconventional, and I appreciate your patience. However, I do believe that our meeting comes at a fortuitous time, and can result in you getting more than good bread and cheese." She said the last part with a shy smile, and he cocked his head in agreement.

"As quick as Réod is to protect me, I would not mind company I can converse with." She was choosing her words, Aragorn could tell. Something twinkled in her eye and she added "should you be willing to travel through the Firien Woods and to Edoras, with a woman and a stubborn horse."

He took his final bite of bread and mulled over her suggestion, not letting her gaze fall away even though she wanted to. Réod was a few paces away, grazing and looking incredibly at ease, though Aragorn suspected that the mildest amount of discomfort from Éostré would have the horse charging him. He needed to be careful with his questions

"I do find myself curious as to what could force someone to travel hundreds of miles, unaccompanied, safe for a fine horse and its finest saddle."

She knew the topic would float up, and she respected the ranger for wanting to know what exactly he was getting into. For all he knew, she'd stolen a good horse, and having found no one to sell it to, she was now forced to run away. She steeled herself.

"My former employer is responsible for an inn in a town near Minas Tirith. He has been left patronage after his father's passing, and business has changed since he was put in charge. One night, he was away and left me, begrudgingly so, in charge." her eyes naturally drifted to the fire, lost in thought. "There was a dispute between two guests, one they were quite determined to resolve through fists. I threw them out, hoping they would be discouraged, and I gave them a common enemy in doing so. Their ire turned to me, and they set fire to the stable."

Like he understood her words, Réod nudged Eostré's arm in a warming gesture. It seemed to work as she turned her eyes to the horse and pat his neck gently, a sad smile lingering on her lips.

"I was responsible for the stables and the horses, everybody knew it. When I heard the horses, I ran and saw the blaze quickly gaining, likely aided by the hay."

Aragorn was starting to understand her, and the bond she had with the horse. Judging from the loyalty he had for her, she must have been good, though that didn't surprise him from what he had seen so far.

"When the innkeeper came back, furious, he insisted I had always been rebellious and had always intended to ruin him. Most of the horses were scattered in the village, and I managed to wrangle the two that had ran further." She looked up to him then, eyes sad but determined. "He made clear that my contumacy was not welcomed in his town and I would henceforth be treated as a criminal."

Aragorn frowned. "The Steward and Knights of Gondor do not take lightly to villagers enacting justice as they will."

She smiled and it did not reach her eyes. She looked to Réod, this time aware of his affections and returning it.

"I doubt they would have heard of it before he could have."

There was not much to add to the discussion after that and Aragorn didn't dare admit how disturbed the sentiment left him.

Thank you to the kindness of everyone, it made me want to post this :) <3

#fanfic #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings #aragorn #aragorn x oc #cowboy!au #The Woman and The Horse

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