A boy-only 11 years of age-who’s mount was a big, black horse, was making his way to Gondor. He was riding hard, his steed breathing heavily. The boy patted the muscular neck of his faithful horse. The boy’s name was Thoro, and the stallion’s Fen. Thoro was on his way to visit his Aunt and Uncle who lived in Gondor, and had been riding a full day’s journey from Rohan. Thoro loved his horse. Riding his best friend was the highlight of the day.
“Steady Fen, slow down. Easy.” Thoro said in a soothing tone as he gently pulled on the reins. “That’s it.” Fen nickered as his legs slowed to a trot, and then a walk. Thoro rewarded Fen with a pat, and received a heavy and content snort in return. They both breathed heavily but suddenly, Fen lifted his head towards the blue, cloudless sky, smelling something that was carried by the summer breeze. “What is it?” Thoro asked, as Fen’s ears began to move in every direction, trying to catch the sound of something. Then they pricked straight forward, indicating that he had found the direction the sound coming from. Thoro dismounted and tried to follow where Fen’s ears were pointing. He led him over the yellow grass. Then Thoro saw what had caused this matter. A pile of dead bodies of horses and men lay lifeless on the grass. He noticed that they were all Gondorian guards, white skinned, and some with open, lifeless eyes. Thoro gasped in horror. He walked closer, feeling the cool necks of all the bodies, making sure that they were dead. They all had black arrows protruding through their metal armor…the horses, too. When he turned over one body, he saw what at first looked like a bundle of white cloth. Then it started to move and whimper. As Thoro unwrapped the cloth, he saw a tiny baby, probably only ten months old. As he looked closer, he saw that it was a baby girl, with only a little dark brown hair. It opened weak, blue eyes that focused on Thoro’s face. Thoro could feel his jaw drop in disbelief. He wondered what to do. Then an idea sparked in his head. “Mother has always been sad since Thero died,” He told Fen, and the little spark became a huge flame. “We should take this baby back to her. Mother would like having another little one at home again, and she’ll know what to do.” With the little one in his arms, Thoro mounted Fen and said, “Go, my friend. Run like the speed of the wind.”
Fen galloped at maximum speed. Thoro held the baby safe in one arm, while the other held the reins, and a handful of thick, black mane.” They had run four hours strait, every once in while, taking a walking brake. Then Thoro felt weariness grip his body, and suspected he was not the only one.
With Fen standing near by and chewing on yellow grass, Thoro unpacked a loaf of bread from his bag that his Mother had packed for him. Both the baby and himself shared it. “You are so weak.” He sighed, “You must have been out there for at least half a day under that dead man with no food or water. Someone must have deliberately tried to kill them, and maybe you. But who? I bet you know,” He smiled as the baby girl daintily, but hurriedly, ate the tiny pieces of bread that had been cut for her. “You act as if you are royalty. But why were you with guards of Gondor? Were you being protected?” Then Thoro realized it was useless trying to put things together, and figure out what had happened to this poor girl. He looked around. They were getting near the Westfold. He guessed they were about half way there. “You’ll love the Westfold,” Thoro told the blue eyes looking up at him. “I’ll teach you how to ride on horse back. I’m sure Mother will grow to love you as I…” Thoro stopped as the once interested eyes suddenly closed and a yawn escaped from her pink mouth. Thoro gently set her on the ground near by. Fen, who had noticed his master’s interest leave the little bundle, slowly walked up to sitting Thoro, and nudged his hand. “You want this piece of bread, don’t you?” He put the small hunk onto his flat palm and let Fen pick it up with his soft, velvety lips, and grinned as he licked up every, single crumb the piece had left behind. Thoro sighed, and rubbed Fen’s nose. He packed the rest of the bread back into the bag, noticing that Fen was nudging his chest for more of the delicious treat. Soon Thoro decided it was time to set out for the rest of their journey.
They reached the Westfold after dark. When Thoro reached his home, he tied Fen in the small, single stall, and brought himself and the baby inside. The door creaked open, and there were still some candles lit. Thoro found his mother sitting in a chair, close to the wall, with her back to him. She was obviously deep in thought. “Mother,” Thoro began. Lorthia darted around, almost falling form her chair. “I brought something for you.” He advanced, cautiously.
“Thoro?” Lorthia whispered in question, “What are you doing home?” She stood up and quickly walked over to him. She was wearing a dark green, slightly dirty dress, with a brown shawl draped over her shoulders. Her light brown hair was tied back into a low ponytail that ran down her back. Her eyes matched the shade of her hair, and held great sadness, but kindness as well.
“I…” Thoro didn’t know how to put this matter into words. “I found this.” He gave her the bundle of white cloth, and she held it for a moment, a confused look on her shadowed face, as she thought of what to do. She started to open it, as she felt warmth on her hands. She looked back up at her son, in wonder, then back to the beautiful little girl. Memories started to swim through her head; thoughts of her younger son Thero, who had died only an infant of sickness.
“Where did you take her from?” Lorthia’s eyes shot back up to her son.
“I found her,” Thoro began. “She was all alone, amongst three dead bodies…of Gondorian guards.” He said the last few words laden with a low and regretful tone. “Then she is from Gondor?” Even though the sentence was a question, Lorthia said it in a voice of statement, and realization. She looked down at the baby.
“She was all alone,” Thoro began, afraid that his Mother would grow angry. “And I didn’t know what to do.”
“Hush, you did nothing wrong,” Lorthia said, looking slowly back at Thoro. “But, we must find her parents. They must be in great agony, not knowing where their precious daughter might be,” her eyes were distant for a moment. “You must ride back to Gondor and send word to the people of a lost baby.” Lorthia set the baby on her bed and asked, “Has she had any food?”
“Yes, only a little. Just some of the bread you packed for me.”
“Then she must be hungry,” Lorthia said as she went to get some food for her.
“Oh, and take this cup to the water pump outside.”
After Thoro had brought the water back into the house for the baby, he took care of Fen. He slowly unbuckled the throatlatch and the noseband of the bridle, and slipped it off. Then he began to groom him with a stiff brush. He was careful to follow the hair’s direction, making sure all of the sweat marks and dirt smudges were gone. Then he filled a bucket with water, and put it in Fen’s stall. “Thank you, my friend.” Thoro whispered, when Fen was settled into his stall. He walked up to his horse and stood in front of him, stroking his poll (right between the ears) and combing his black forelock with his fingers. “I will see you in the morning.”
Lorthia took off the white cloth that was around the baby’s fragile body, and found that she was wearing a light pink dress, that had short sleeves and was very long. “A very nice dress, my dear. What is this?” She asked, fingering a small, silver colored chain that hung around the girl’s neck. But on the chain, hung a ring. It was a silver band that had two blue jewels of some kind pressed into it. Lorthia stared at it. It was beautiful, and glittering, as if it were just made. “I do not know what this is,” she finally told the owner of it. “But, it is yours, and it will remain so.”
Hey! Please tell me what you think. Again, these new characters don’t have names with meanings (I don’t have an elvish dictionary). Be back later to answer your comments!