#a storm

His tender heart clenched at the sight of the nervously tossing head, though, and so he decided that the room was spacious enough to shelter them both.

As soon as the door opened, the horse strode in, nudging its huge, wet head against Faramir’s bare shoulder as if to show gratitude for his act of imprudent clemency.

Even though he’d hitherto considered horsemanship to be nothing more than a useful skill, Faramir at once understood that this creature was well-maintained and cared for.

“You’re someone’s horse,” he said calmly. “And you’re well-loved.”

At that, the animal gave him a soulful, unwavering look that touched something deep within his soul; he was now intimately convinced that this four-legged visitor deserved to be cherished.

It was not a mere tool—it was a loyal friend.

“I’ve got cold oats, and I think I’ve seen a few apples when I came in. Would you care for a spot of dinner?”

Faramir rolled his eyes at his own folly; it was just like him to have a conversation with a mute creature that probably didn’t understand a single word of what he was saying.

Standing perfectly still, the horse—a mare, Faramir discovered after a short, undignified glance at the beast’s underbelly—neighed softly.

“Let me…” Limping down the narrow, dark corridor, he threw open all the doors until he found a small, tiled bathroom.

On a wooden rack, fluffy towels had been laid out for his use, and he grabbed the first one he could lay his hands on to give his unexpected guest a much-needed rub-down.

“I guess my new neighbours wouldn’t thank me if I let you catch a cold,” he said, wondering if horses were even prone to such mundane health problems.

He’d have to look it up, he resolved, but—for the moment—he’d do as he saw fit.

The nameless beauty bore his jerky, clumsy ministrations with admirable equanimity, and—once she was as dry as she would get—she plucked at a lanky strand of Faramir’s dishevelled hair playfully.

“Yes, yes,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you give me the number of your barber? I could do with a haircut.”

The idea of disappearing into the bedroom he’d located during his search for the bathroom and leaving the horse alone while the storm was still raging outside was strangely unattractive, so he pulled the neatly folded patchwork blanket from an armchair and settled down on the comfortable canapé by the fire instead.

His thoughts were drifting apart again—he felt warm and safe, and his previous thoughts about his family melted into more generous ones.

The clopping of hooves and the sound of soft snorting brought him back to the present.

“Oh, how thoughtless of me,” he murmured, reluctantly peeling himself out of the cocoon of comfort he’d created and rummaged through his luggage.

Upon leaving, he’d not been sure what would be provided at the lodge, so he’d packed an ancient but trusty blanket of his own.

“Here you go. Good night, horse,” he smiled as he draped it over the beast’s back with more tenderness than he’d readily let anyone else witness. “Sweet dreams!”

Did horses dream? Faramir knew not, but—to his surprise—his usual nightmares didn’t find him either on that night, and he woke up wonderfully rested and restored to the sensation of something warm and silky pressed against his brow.

“Good morning, horse,” he mumbled. “Let me get dressed and drink a coffee, and then we’ll set out to find your owners.”

As he went through his usual morning routine with considerably more aplomb than he’d been able to muster up lately, Faramir realised with a pang of sorrow that his family had been right when it came to the cabin but wrong about the isolation.

He wasn’t made to be alone.

After another bowl of oats, Faramir forced his feet back into the narrow, hard, damp boots with a low groan. He’d have to find more appropriate footwear—perhaps, his new friend’s owner could tell him where he could do some shopping.

“Let’s go,” he grinned brightly and walked out the front door, the trusty steed on his heels.

For a moment, he was worried that the beast would simply take off without him, frustrated with his slow, awkward pace and eager to go back home, but the mare trotted beside him faithfully.

He was halfway down the still deplorably muddy path, scored by his truck’s tyre tracks, when a young woman raced out of a wooden gate a little way down the road.

On his way here, Faramir hadn’t noticed how close the next house had been, but now he saw that the lane he’d crawled along actually went up a slight slope. At the bottom of that very incline, a sprawling cluster of buildings lay nestled, and from one of these, a truly gorgeous lady had just emerged like the wrath of some old God.

“Frieda!” she called, shaking with anger and relief alike if her contorted, tight face was any indication. “A thunderstorm is no moment to go exploring!”

The horse at Faramir’s side merely neighed—it sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

“I’m ever so sorry—I’m new to the area, and…during the storm…she was simply there,” Faramir stammered. He felt the overwhelming, nonsensical need to justify himself lest the woman thought he’d attempted to steal her horse.

“Oh, I readily believe that,” the golden-haired vision of wrath and woe muttered. “Frieda is friendly. A little too friendly at times. My name is Éowyn, by the way, and that nag is our best therapy horse.”

Before he could reciprocate by giving her his name, Faramir instinctively sucked his teeth. Frieda was a beautiful, dapple-grey mare with an expressive head and well-shaped legs and didn’t deserve such slander.

“She was…very good company,” he replied weakly. “I’m Faramir. My father has rented the cabin for me. Therapy horse you said?”

Éowyn’s eyes narrowed as she fully took in his unsteady, misaligned posture for the first time.

“Oh, I see,” she chirped good-humouredly. “Frieda must have sensed that there was someone who could do with her help. Do you ride at all?”

Taken aback, Faramir cocked his head. “I—yes, in a way…”

Nodding resolutely and snapping her fingers, Éowyn motioned towards the gate. “Come find me anytime you like. You can take the old girl out for a spin whenever you want. It might help!”

@fellowshipofthefics

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