Riding Lessons

Pairing: Legolas/Éomer
Rating: PG
Feedback: Always welcome at c_rhodora@hotmail.com
Setting: Post-RotK, AU
Summary: Thranduil and his family have sailed West, leaving Legolas as the new King of Greenwood. Legolas decides that a horse trade with the King of Rohan is in order.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No infringement or offence is intended.
Author’s Notes: This fic was written for the excellent Waters of Cuivienen fest challenge. Many thanks and praises to my beta readers, Zasjah and Panthera. This is dedicated to Dodger for putting up with me.

Part VII. The Search for a Rider

Secretly, the King of Rohan did not hold out much hope of finding a rider for his newly acquired headstrong stallion. Echuir was too much like Déor and neither stallion could be ridden by simply anyone. Therefore, a rider of such a steed would not only have to possess exceptional riding skill, but would have to be chosen specifically by the stallion for reasons probably known only to the animal himself. Seeing the bond forged between Echuir and the Elven King reminded Éomer of the difficult, if not impossible task that lay ahead. The Rohan King had briefly considered this predicament before signing the trade agreement but now he realized that he should have given it more thought. Legolas had said that he would help him find a rider and the Horse Lord had too readily believed his Elven counterpart.

Echuir might now belong to him on paper, but the Man knew that the steed would forever be faithful to the Elven King, and that thought both saddened and pleased him. To have Echuir near was like capturing the essence of Elvish spirit and freedom that had been so prevalent to him during his stay in Legolas’ realm. But even that assessment rung hollow at its core, for the Horse Lord knew that such a spirit could never be contained and could never belong to him. The Man was acutely reminded of this as he glanced at his Elven friend whose flaxen mane was being whipped by the gusts of wind that blew over the plains of one of the training grounds. Though Éomer would never admit it to himself, the lure of bringing Legolas to his land to stay for a period of time had been one of the reasons why he had agreed to the trade. Even if they were unable to find a rider, the Man reflected, Echuir’s pure Elvish blood would make him a fine breeding stallion. However, what would pass, or had not passed, between the two Kings was entirely another matter.

The first approach the Rohan King had decided upon was to summon the best riders from among his relations, distant or not, for Legolas’ and Echuir’s examination. If Echuir was to be ridden in the Rhovanion representing his house, it was logical that the rider of the stallion should also come from the House of Eorl. For five days the finest riders in his family had arrived only to be rebuffed or snorted at in disdain by the black stallion. Echuir eyed each man suspiciously, making Éomer realize how fortunate he had been on that first night in Greenwood when the stallion had accepted him so easily. On the odd occasion that Echuir allowed himself to be mounted by one of his prospective riders, said rider soon found himself on the hard earth nursing a sore bottom. The most promising candidate thus far had unexpectedly been Lord Egric, a second cousin to Éomer on his mother’s side. Lord Egric was soft-spoken and mild-mannered. Often accused of being too meek and genteel for a man of his position, Echuir had taken pity on the Lord and had allowed the Man to mount him. While Lord Egric was a capable rider and put Echuir through the paces, the stallion and the two Kings knew that Egric had neither the ambition nor the mettle to win the Rhovanion.

In his discreet manner, Legolas also appraised each Man and Éomer’s relations often found themselves awed in the Elf’s presence. The Rohan King had always considered his Elven friend to be rather unassuming in the past, though one could never forget the nobility and strength the Elf innately carried. However, surrounded by a sea of Men, most of whom had only heard of the Firstborn through distant tales, Legolas shone like a brilliant jewel. With a fiery Elven stallion by his side, the Greenwood King exuded an aura of imperiousness that Éomer doubted even Legolas was aware of. Although the Horse Lord had never met the Elf’s father, the famed Woodland King, he could already see how his youngest son carried his father’s line. Éomer marveled at how effortlessly Legolas had appeared to take on the mantle of a ruler. It was in his blood.

“Is there anyone else we should meet today?” the Elven King inquired, snapping the Man out of his thoughts.

“Yes,” Éomer instinctively replied. “My third cousin, Caedmon arrived this morning. He should be here any minute. Caedmon is an accomplished rider.”

Legolas cocked his head to the right as he noted the Horse Lord’s tone of voice, which was more telling than the words Éomer had just spoken.

“You are not happy to see your cousin,” the Elf commented.

Éomer let out a small laugh. “You are too perceptive,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “I am not particularly close to Caedmon,” heitteitted. “We have come to blows in the past. I find some of his methods to be unnecessarily brutal and his personality to be somewhat . . . abrasive.”

“And this Man is a relation of yours?”

“Every family has one,” Éomer joked, trying to ease his negative assessment through humor. “But Caedmon *is* an accomplished rider,” he repeated. “There is not a horse in Rohan that he has not been able to break, barring Déor, of course.” He nodded his head in the direction of a Man clad in fine riding clothes who was walking toward the pair.

“To break an animal for riding is one thing,” Legolas said slowly, watching the Man approach, already appraising his nonchalant demeanor, the slight swagger he could detect in the Man’s step. “To break an animal’s spirit is another,” the Elf continued. “Echuir will never be tamed in that way.”

“No,” Éomer agreed quietly. “I never thought he would.” Then he raised his voice in greeting as Caedmon drew near.

“Cousin,” he said, stretching out his arm in the formal warrior’s greeting. “We have been waiting for you.”

“I assure you the wait has not been in vain,” Caedmon replied confidently, grasping Éomer’s arm firmly.

Legolas watched the pair carefully. Their stance, the formality of their greeting and the indifference in their voices betrayed the negative feelings they tried to hide from one another. Caedmon was a tall man, standing half a foot higher than the King of the Mark. He had shoulder length hair of rich chocolate brown that framed his rather angular face and sharp hawked nose. Legolas noticed that his eyes were of the same chocolate hue as Éomer introduced his cousin to the Elven King. Caedmon bowed curtly before the Elf, flashing a thin-lipped smile that Legolas imagined could easily turn into a sneer.

“And this,” Caedmon said, stepping past the two Kings, “must be the famed Elven stallion. What is his name?”

Éomer bristled at his cousin’s presumptuousness, but a gentle squeeze on his arm and the sly smile Legolas gave him stopped the Horse Lord from saying anything rash. Curious to see what the Elf would do, the Rohan King decided to let Legolas handle the situation.

“Yes,” Legolas said, stepping forward and motioning for Echuir to approach them. The stallion did so skittishly. Like all animals he had an instinct for danger and he did not like this Man at all. Legolas went to the horse and reassuringly rubbed its neck, whispering Elvish words into the animal’s ear . His actions calmed the stallion and he stood before the two Men proudly.

“His name is Echuir,” Legolas said as Caedmon continued to scrutinize the animal. Echuir stared back defiantly.

“Does he take bit and bridle?” Caedmon inquired.

“If the occasion calls for it,” the Elf answered. “But my people prefer to ride bareback with no bridle. We find those accessories a hindrance.”

Lord Caedmon’s response was a slight grunt, as though the idea of riding bareback without a bridle were barbaric to him. Then he dipped his right hand into the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a treat. Stepping confidently towards the horse, he held out his hand, fingers flat and straight lest Echuir choose to nibble them off. For his part, Echuir sniffed the harmless sugar cubes, finally flaring his nostrils and turning away. The stallion glanced at the Elf, indicating he thought this strange Man most foolish for trying to bribe him with sweets. Legolas had to suppress a laugh.

Lord Caedmon’s thin-lipped smile grew thinner. The foreign creature had slighted him but he would not show any offense. This animal would learn, as had all the steeds before him.

“I shall ride him bareback,” Caedmon announced, “but I insist upon a bridle.”

“Very well,” Legolas agreed, waving to an Elven guard to bring a bridle. The Elf did so quickly, just as Caedmon’s young squire appeared with his lord’s riding helmet and whip. Legolas eyed the whip with a disapproving air. “That will not be necessary,” he said, his tone growing hard.

Caedmon held up the long riding whip indifferently. “It is more of a decoration,” he said with a shrug, but the whip remained close to his side as Legolas put the bridle on Echuir.

Once again the Elf spoke quiet words to the stallion as Echuir continued to look at Lord Caedmon with distrust. When he was done, Legolas handed the reins to the Man who mounted the stallion in one smooth motion, despite Echuir shying almost instantly from his touch. Lord Caedmon had excellent balance. Immediately, he put the animal on a tight rein although Echuir continued to resist the bit.

“To fight will only make things more difficult,” Caedmon said in a low voice, certain that the animal would understand, but Echuir paid him no mind. Only a stern look from the Elven King made the steed grudgingly accept the bit.

A satisfied smile crossed Lord Caedmon’s face as he put the animal into a brisk trot, riding in a wide circle around the two kings. Echuir responded quickly, tossing his head every now and then in an effort to loosen Caedmon’s tight rein. The horse’s antics only served to irk the Man and he tightened the reins further until Echuir’s long, elegant neck was bent nearly double, the horse’s muzzle only inches from his chest. Nostrils flaring, Echuir extended his trot threatening to break into a canter. Caedmon sensed that the stallion was eager to be let loose and after making one more experimental circle around Legolas and Éomer, he eased the animal into a canter.

Echuir flew, taking his rider slightly by surprise by almost leaping into the air with his first stride. Caedmon relished the power of the animal beneath him. He could feel Echuir’s energy and spirit. What he could do with such a steed in a race as grand as the Rhovanion. His ambition and skill combined with the animal’s speed and stamina would ensure that victory would be his. Lord Caedmon would be the toast at this year’s Rhovanion. Echuir was gathering momentum and his rider, who had been lulled into a false security by the stallion, did not notice that the circle they were making was growing wider and wider, drifting further away from the two kings and moving towards the open plains. By the time this was brought to the Man’s attention, he attempted to steer the stallion back to the training field but Echuir continued to gallop forward, stretching his legs. Caedmon brutally yanked thet ret rein, pulling it down as far as his knee, forcing Echuir to change direction, but the stallion did not break his stride. He continued at his break neck pace, now heading back to the training field and a minor obstacle course that had been set up. The stallion wove in and out of the white painted wooden poles in an attempt to unbalance his rider.

Caedmon held fast and braced himself as Echuir approached a large wooden jump easily five feet high and two feet wide. The horse flew over it and made for the next jump. Caedmon had lost control of the steed but he made a valiant attempt at not showing it, as though he had intended to go through the obstacle course all along. The Elven King, however, knew better as did his counterpart who was watching the scene unfold with a look of minor concern. As soon as Echuir had completed the treble, Legolas stepped forward and called out a command.

“Daro!”

Echuir seemed to come to an almost immediate halt despite his breathtaking speed and his hapless rider who had been clinging onto a tuft of the horse’s mane, found himself sprawled on the animal’s neck in a most undignified manner. Echuir did not care for the uncomfortable weight on his neck and with one vigorous shake, he dispatched the troublesome man onto the hard earthen floor. Caedmon had slid off the stallion’s neck and now looked at the beast from his vantage point on the ground, his back sore from landing on a stone. The animal was laughing at him, he could see it in the stallion’s glittering eyes. With one final snort Echuir held his head high and proud, stepping past the infuriated Lord and walking back to his Elven master. Legolas fixed the horse with a stern look that Echuir returned in equal measure, annoyed that he should have had to put up with the rude rider in the first place. Eventually, Legolas’ lips curved into a small smile and he held his hand up to tell the stallion that all was forgiven. In his own way, the Elf was even more responsible for Lord Caedmon’s untimely fall. Echuir accepted the apology and rubbed his face against the Elven King’s palm, the two of them sharing in their private joke.

At the same time, Caedmon’s men came to his aid and he brusquely pushed them aside. His mind was fuming. How dare that animal humiliate him! He brushed away the dust and soil from his clothes as he stormed towards the Elf and his stallion.

“That beast,” he spat, waving his riding whip in Echuir’s direction, “needs to be taught a lesson!”

“If that is so,” Legolas replied coldly, “it is a lesson that shall not be taught by you. We have seen what lesson you would teach.”

Lord Caedmon was about to return a cutting reply but his liege smoothly interrupted by holding up his hand in entreaty.

“Cousin,” the King of Rohan began, “your encounter today has been an unfortunate one. But all here present have seen the wild spirit of this steed and other riders have been dealt with much more harshly. You rode him fearlessly and with great skill. Let the matter rest now, for it has been a long day and Echuir has had enough excitement.”

Éomer’s soothing tone and diplomatic words placated the angry Lord and Caedmon lowered his head slightly in deference to the King’s suggestion. Still, he turned a hard eye on the Elf and his stallion as he said, “I demand the right to ride him again tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Éomer interrupted again. “We will not be holding any trial runs tomorrow. Lady Aduial, one of our visiting dignitaries will be leaving for Gondor the day after tomorrow, and to speed her on her journey with best wishes from our land, we will be having a picnic in her honor tomorrow afternoon.”

“I see.”

There was an awkward silence before Legolas spoke.

“We would be honored, Lord Caedmon,” he said, “if you would join our company tomorrow.”

The offer took both men by surprise although both retained their composure.

“In that c” Ca” Caedmon said, addressing the Elven King, “far be it from me to refuse such hospitality. I would be delighted to be part of your company. Until tomorrow, then.”

“We leave in the morning for the Éadig,” Éomer added. “We will arrive there for lunch and spend the afternoon there.”

Caedmon nodded his head. “Then I shae pre prepared,” he said. With a bow he bid the two kings farewell and proceeded to return to the city, his squire and attendants in tow.

“That was . . . unexpected,” Éomer said when Caedmon was well out of earshot.

“Your cousin’s encounter with the ground or my invitation?”

The Horse Lord turned his head to look at the Elf, a wry smile on his face. “The invitation,” he clarified.

“It seemed the least I could do after his unfortunate fall,” Legolas answered. “We cannot have one of the finest riders of the Mark leaving this training field with a bruised ego and an even harder heart.”

“Caedmon is not to be toyed with,” Éomer said seriously.

“I do not toy with Elves . . . or Men,” the Elven King said in response, emphasizing his final word.

“Then there is a greater plan behind your actions?” the Horse Lord inquired innocently.

“Always,” the Elf laughed in his musical voice. Then he smiled warmly at the Man, and put a hand on shoushoulder. “Perhaps Lord Caedmon will provide us with more entertainment tomorrow. After all, it is he who needs to be taught a lesson.”

Éomer shook his head, dreading to think what the Elf had in store, yet secretly looking forward to it all the same.

Legolas removed the bridle on Echuir as Éomer watched, handing it back to the Elven guard who had brought it to him in the first place. In a smooth motion, Legolas mounted the stallion and looked down at the Man.

“I shall ride Echuir back,” the Elf declared. “Would you care to join me?”

For a moment Éomer almost accepted the offer but then he shook his head. “Déor would be jealous,” he explained.

Legolas laughed. “And so he should be,” he said mischievously. “Noro!” he called to Echuir who took off, happy to be ridden by his master at last.

Éomer watched the pair as they flew over the plains. There was such freedom about the Elf and all his actions, even though he too was bound by the duties of being a king. *Why was that?* the Man wondered. What secret did Legolas possess that he was yet to uncover for himself?

tbc...