Faölin

"Westron"

"Sindarin"

"Thought Speech"

:Horse Speech:

Memories/Divine Speech

'Thoughts'

Years and Years Later: The beginning of the Fellowship of the Ring.

Chapter Four

Faölin was galloping through the woods as fast as he could go. He'd awoken to the pervading sense of Evil in his Woods, and, carried on the wind to him, was the cry of an Elf he had borne many years ago.

He arrived at the edge of the thicket he was in to see a horse botch a jump by going too fast, sending his rider and companion to the ground. Feeling the Evil approaching, the Stallion- for that was what he was now- slowed to a halt at the fallen party's side.

"Arwen." he greeted the lady softly. She gasped, recognising the honeyed voice that entered her mind, and the form before her.
"Faölin." The Elleth breathed, her eyes wide. She winced as she shifted, lifting the small figure who reeked of Wrongness.
"You are endangering yourself again. Elrond will never allow you to leave Imladris at this rate. Can I be of service?"

"Frodo." came the quick reply. "I am injured- my arm- and Asfaloth has cut his leg and cannot run. Please, he needs Ada's healing, or he will die. He also bears something the Nazgul will chase him to the end of Arda for. Bearing him runs a great risk. They will be focused on you and only you- I will not be in danger. Once you get past the river, you will be safe. Those twisted beings must get into the river for at least a minute for the plan to work, do you understand?"

After a few tense seconds, the little being rose out of Arwen's arms, and, once safely positioned on Faölin's back, smooth ropes bound him to the horse, in a way that would not restrict the Stallion.
As soon as the little not-human was secure on his back, Faölin burst into action, leaping forward, away from the approaching Evil.

He pounded towards Rivendell, the Evil attempting to gain on him, though they were unable to as the Wizard-Horse began to channel his Magic into his legs, something he had been practising for a while now (It tired him faster, though it made him almost as fast as he imagined his Sire to be). Behind him, the Ringwraiths shrieked, forcing their poor mounts faster than what was good for them.

His instincts screaming at him, the Stallion too pushed himself farther than he should, splashing through the river and stopping on the other side, ignoring the tremors tearing through his body.

:Bring them into the River!: he pleaded to the destroyed Kin that he knew in his heart could not survive these Masters of theirs.
:Tired.: came the pained reply from the lead horse. :So tired.:
:I know.: Faölin choked a reply. :Enslavement drains you.:
:Will we be free?: the smallest asked. :We are dying, Prince. Will stepping into the river give us Death? Make us free again?:
:Aunt Hela will accept you into Helheim if Mandos does not accept you into his Halls.: came the broken reply. :Yes. Stepping into the River will see you free.:

With a breaking heart, Faölin watched as his Kin doggedly stepped into the river as fast as they could, ignoring the shrieks of their riders and the torment they gave, standing and waiting for their pain to end.

:We will keep them here: the leader of the group informed his distraught Prince. :Run. Run My Prince, and do not look back. Go to the Elves and inform them that the Evil One is rising yet again.:

With a scream of anguish, the Stallion obeyed the gentle plea hidden in the command.

Faölin galloped into Imladris. Glorfindel, who was pacing in the courtyard in front of a large building, froze when he saw his exhausted friend, before leaping to his side as the ropes holding Frodo dissipated.

"Get him to Elrond." Faölin said exhaustedly. "I shall wait here until you return to take me somewhere I can rest. Fear not for Arwen. Once I took the not-human, she was safe. Asfaloth lives also."

Frowning at the disjointed manner of his speech, Glorfindel rushed Frodo to his Lord, hurriedly spilling out what little he knew of the situation, before returning to the courtyard, where Faölin was swaying slightly as he strove to stay awake, much to the Warrior's concern.

"Mellon nin?" he asked worriedly.
"I have no strength to get home." The Stallion informed him shakily. "Yet I must rest and recover. No stables, please, Glorfindel?"
"Of course not!" Glorfindel agreed vehemently. "Come, Faölin, we shall settle you in Elrond's private garden, and food and water shall be brought."

As he eased to the ground beneath a tree in the garden, Faölin remembered "The Enslaved of the Ringwraiths had a final message for me to pass on."
"What message would your kin give us?" the Golden Lord frowned.

"The Evil One is rising yet again."

The Stallion slipped into an exhausted sleep as his friend shuddered at the confirmation of all that they had feared.

Aragorn inhaled sharply as he and the Hobbits came upon the white form of Asfaloth, and before he knew what he was doing, he was at Arwen's side, running her hands over her, cursing when he discovered her broken arm.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam cried in terror as he futilely looked for his master. A new, icy terror swept through Aragorn, and he gripped his beloved's unbroken hand tightly, locking his gaze with hers, desperately questioning.

"Fear not for Frodo Baggins." the Elleth reassured, a soft smile upon her lips. "A friend of my Ada's came upon me and bore him to Imladris in my place, far faster than I could ever hope to."

Who? Aragorn wondered silently, trusting Arwen to know of what she spoke as the Hobbits calmed.

"I can walk, as can Asfaloth, but some help would be greatly appreciated."
Instantly, she was in his arms, cradled to his chest. Gasping, she slapped at his chest. "Put me down!" she commanded, though love danced in her eyes. "I can walk, fool! But Asfaloth will need help to walk. You will help him."

"Arwen" Aragorn protested instantly.
"No! The Hobbits will be no help to him. If I need assistance, the Hobbits can support me. You are allowing your emotions to cloud you."

Sighing, the man carefully set her down. "Sam, Merry, Pippin, you will stay by Arwen and support her if necessary. I will help Asfaloth. Come, the sooner we start moving, the sooner we will get to Rivendell."

Glorfindel was upon them the instant they stepped into Rivendell, an expression of pure relief on his face.

"Oh, thank the Valar!" he cried, checking the group over quickly and thoroughly. "If you ever scare us like that again, Arwen, we will confine you to Imladris for the rest of your days! And Estel! Truly it is wondrous to see you so well!" pausing, he turned to the worried Hobbits with a reassuring smile. "Fear not for Frodo Baggins, he is well tended under Lord Elrond's considerable Healing prowess."

"Who brought Frodo here?" Pippin asked "we need to thank him."
"Ah." The joyous expression faded. "He collapsed as soon as he felt safe. Foolish Littling, pushing himself far too far."

Asfaloth snorted, stamping one of his good legs. The Hobbits stared. Could...could he understand them? The big Elf seemed to think so, as he stared at the horse, a small frown on his features.
"Asfaloth, if you have your leg attended to, I will take you to Faölin so you may watch over him for us."
Clearly, the horse agreed, because he clopped forward to lean on the Elf, who chuckled and took his reins from Aragorn.
"Your Master Frodo is in the Infirmary. You may wait outside until Lord Elrond has finished attending to him. Estel, see that Arwen's arm is healed."

When Faölin awoke, still too tired to move, an apple was nudged towards his mouth by Asfaloth, who was lying opposite him.
:Thank you, Asfaloth.: he said tiredly. :Forgive me, but where am I? I recall making it into Rivendell and Glorfindel taking the little not-human, but everything after that is a blur. I'm not in the stables, am I?: he asked, panicked.

The older Stallion quickly made to reassure him. :No, My Prince, you are not in the stables- you are, in fact, in Lord Elrond's private garden. Glorfindel brought you here to rest, and I have been watching over you since I and Arwen returned with the help of Estel and the other Hobbits.:
:Hobbits? Oh...that was what the little being was! Mosscoat told me a little of them.: Faölin recalled. :Stout-hearted little creatures, from what I recall of his teachings.:

Shaking himself, he asked :How fare you, Asfaloth? Has your leg been attended to?:
:Fear not for me, My Prince. My leg has been attended to, though I will not be running for many sun-turns yet.:
:I can heal what they cannot.: he quickly offered.
:What you must do, is rest. Your Magic-Spirit is regaining itself- do not attempt to drain it again just yet.: came the gentle reproach.
:Yes, Asfaloth: Faölin replied obediently, eating the apple and slipping back into the healing slumber.

Upon reaching the entrance to Elrond's private garden, Gandalf was surprised to find his way blocked by Elrohir and Elladan, who were wearing unusually serious expressions for their faces to bear outside of battle.
"May I pass, friends?"
"No." They chorused in unison.
"Why ever not?" the old Istar asked, genuinely stunned at being refused.
"Faölin neither knows nor trusts you. You have no knowledge of him, how to act around him. You would simply barge in there and cause further damage to the dear Stallion that has come to the aid of our Beloved Sister twice."
"I would not harm him." Gandalf protested.

"Gandalf."
Flinching slightly, he turned to face the cool eyes of Glorfindel.
"A suggestion. Release Shadowfax. He will go to my friend." what was not said was that the mighty steed would like as not warn Faölin of the Grey Wizard's attitude when it came to his own security, and inform him of his kidnapping of Shadowfax. "Leave him be. If you do not, I am sure I, Elrond, and Gwaihir can...correct your behaviours."
"We would be happy to provide you with instruction as well, Mithrandir." Elrohir added, with a perfectly polite smile that was at the same time threatening.

Shadowfax walked as quietly as he could into the garden, stopping as Asfaloth moved into view between him and the low-hanging tree at the foot of the garden where a black form lay motionless, much to his disquiet.
:How fares the Prince?: he asked as quietly as he could.
:He awoke long enough to eat an apple, and hold a short conversation. He rests more peacefully now.:
:Béma be praised.: the Stallion said, clearly relieved.
:Indeed.:

:Gandalf is a fool if he thinks I am going to coax him into the graces of our Prince.: Shadowfax snorted disdainfully as the two Stallions lay between Faölin and the entrance.
:Why did you allow him to kidnap you, let alone mount you?:
:Because, Middle Earth will need all the support it can amass in the coming struggle. And I would never turn down any chance to meet the Prince.:
:True enough.: Asfaloth conceded.

:The entrance to the garden is presently being protected by the male foals of the Lord of Rivendell.:
:Elladan and Elrohir?: Asfaloth nickered lightly in amusement. :Tricksters though they may be, they are serious when it comes to defending their Family and Innocents.:

:They sound like Grandsire.: Faölin entered the conversation, admittedly only half-awake. :From what Dam told me, Grandsire is Mischief personified, is so very cunning and in possession of the sharpest of minds- he is not called Silvertongue for nothing. From what little was told of him, he is the sort of person who would let Midgard burn if it would lead to any chance of freedom and protection for the Family.:
:What little was told?: the Meras questioned. :Oh, forgive me, My Prince. My name is Shadowfax. I am of the Meras. It is an honour to meet you.:
:And for me to meet you, Shadowfax. In answer to your question, the tales passed from Asgard to Midgard tended only to mention Grandsire in a vague position of support to Crown Prince Thor, or...many revelled in the torments that were oft heaped upon Grandsire for even the slightest thing.:

Asfaloth tossed his head, managing to keep his furious cry to a somewhat strangled hiss. :Barbaric people, to fawn at the pain of another greater than themselves.:
:The Asgardians are not...they have never been...kind, in any form towards my Kin.: Faölin said haltingly. :The only one who could possibly be declared so would be Queen Frigga. Heimdallr is...indifferent. He serves only the King...or the Norns. I have never been certain about him.:
:Indeed.: Shadowfax agreed sombrely, readying himself to turn the conversation to the reason for his presence.

:My Prince.: the elder spoke heavily. :Do you know anything of Gandalf the Grey?:
Tilting his head, Faölin replied after a moment of thought. :Yes, all my friends and mentors here have mentioned him. A well intentioned man, if a little too sure of himself, and...somewhat manipulative when he feels such a thing is needed. I do not like manipulators. Why do you ask?:
:Because Gandalf stole me from Rohan and rode me here. He released me with orders to endear him to you. This I refuse to do. I hold no loyalty towards the Istar. I do, however, hold loyalty to you Prince Faölin, and to your Sire and Kin. Beyond that, my loyalty is to Rohan and Middle Earth.:

Faölin, who had stiffened at the Meras's explanation and warning, found that, by the end, if he had been in Human form, he would have been blushing at the heartfelt declaration of loyalty.
:Thank you, Shadowfax.: he paused :What would you suggest for dealing with him should it ever come to that?:
:Be polite, but distant.: came the advice. :Make your opinions and positions in situations clear. Avoid him if you feel it necessary, but try not to be too obvious about it.:
The Stallion nodded silently, understanding the sense in the Elder's advice.

Asfaloth and Shadowfax moved to stand between their Prince and the entrance to the garden when they heard the gate open. Both knew that the twins were on guard, but they would not let their guard down until they saw who was entering. Faölin tensed where he lay, readying himself to move if necessary.
Elrond and Glorfindel stepped into sight, smiling gentle, soothing smiles to help the trio relax.
"Well Met, Asfaloth, Shadowfax." Elrond greeted, Glorfindel copying him. "May I pass to see to Faölin?" he enquired.
:If you would let them pass?: came the quiet request from behind them :Elrond and Glorfindel are the few two-leggers I trust at present. They will not harm me.:

With permission clearly granted as the two Stallions move back, though still flanked Faölin, the Healer moved forward to check his young friend over carefully.
"Well, my friend, a little more rest and food-" here he turned a pointed gaze to the hay and apples to the side "- and you will regain your full strength."
"Thank you Elrond." Faölin said softly. "How fares the Littling and Arwen?"
"Arwen's arm will take a while to heal, though she is in no danger. Frodo, on the other hand...I will never condone you exhausting yourself so, but in this case I will admit that, had Asfaloth been the one to carry him to safety, I would have not been able to heal him as well as I could, for you gained him much time before he would be lost."
"Then my exhaustion was worthwhile." the Stallion declared staunchly. "And you have little reason to fear, Friends. I am not so young anymore that depletion of my Core endangers my life greatly."

There was a heavy, stunned pause.
'I need to keep my thoughts in check.' Faölin berated himself internally, quailing slightly as his Elf-friends faces showed anger and horror, and his new Horse-friends became very still.
"Nan aear ar in elin!" Glorfindel exploded. "Did you not think that we should have been informed of such a possibility?" he asked/scolded in place of a frozen Lord of Imladris.
"I...I never thought-"
"Precisely my point! You did not think! This information is clearly linked to your wellbeing and health! As your friends- As Elrond is the only one you trust to attend to any ills that befall you- we should have been informed, Faölin Sleipnirson!" the Golden Lord ranted, using the full name that he had taught them in his Colt-hood.
:Prince Faölin!: Shadowfax joined in, equally horrified :You could have caused yourself grave harm! How are we to help you when you are in need of aid if we are unaware of such dangers to you!:

:ENOUGH.: Asfaloth declared loudly, stamping a hoof angrily. :See what your shouting has done to our Prince!:

And indeed, Faölin was attempting to make himself as small as possible, and shaking steadily, his ears back. Fortunately, Asfaloth's intervention (though the Elves couldn't understand him) stopped the angry rebukes and halted the flashback that had been stirring in the young Stallion.
"Ai, Mellon nîn!" Elrond gasped, gently, carefully reaching out to card a soothing hand through his young friend's coat. "Forgive us our outbursts, Dear One."
"You meant no harm- all is forgiven." came the muted assurance.
"However, the point of our upset still stands." Glorfindel felt the need to point out, albeit more gently than he had before. "The fact that draining your Core could have killed you in the past, and may still lead to your death if you push yourself still further, is something you aught have informed us of. Elrond as your Healer, and I and Asfaloth and Shadowfax as your friends."
"I'm sorry." Faölin said in a small voice, clearly ashamed of himself.
:Peace, Dear Prince.: Shadowfax soothed, moving to position himself behind his smaller Prince, and beginning to nibble on his mane in a gesture of an elder to a youngling. :Our reactions were out of turn, and well deserved the rebuke delivered by Asfaloth. On that point, my friend, thank you.:
:Someone needed to knock some sense into you.: Asfaloth snorted, also lying down.

With the situation handled, Elrond returned to assuring himself of Faölin's wellbeing. Finding himself satisfied, the two Elves left with instructions to the Stallions to ensure that Faölin ate and rested.
"We cannot stay." Elrond explained apologetically. "We have guests arriving for the Council concerning the Ring. Some of which happen to be Dwarves. Inevitable incidents must be halted at the very most, and dealt with at the very least."
"You poor Elf." came the amused, faintly sarcastic reply. "Perhaps you could simply give them an area for their stay and avoid it as much as politely possible?"
"The idea has merit!" Glorfindel declared hopefully, turning pleading eyes to Elrond, who was now laughing quietly. "Is it possible to do so, Elrond?"
"Sadly, I do not belive it would befit us to do so." Elrond replied with a conciliatory smile, though merriment was clear in his eyes. "We must be polite to our guests, Mellon nîn."
"Alas, so it must be." came the mournful reply.
"Oh, Faölin...the Council is to have a member of each Race in attendance- Gwaihir is attending as well, and Rohan is not sending a representative for some reason. I was hoping...you are a Horse, and a Pegasus- the only Pegasus on Middle Earth. You would be safe, of that I assure you- Gwaihir, myself and Glorfindel would be present." Elrond tacked on quickly.

In the ensuing silence, Shadowfax spoke. :My Prince, the Lord's request is a sensible one. Your safety is assured, and it will be a chance to meet those of other Races. However, I feel that representing two Races is not fair on you, so I offer myself as a representative of Rohan and the Horses.:
:I will be present to support the both of you.: Asfaloth declared firmly.

"You understand, that if I do attend this Council, you will, like as not, not see me for some time afterwards." the young Stallion warned.
"Of course, Dear Friend." Glorfindel nodded. "You do not even need to be there until the Council officially starts, and can leave the instant a conclusion is reached."

The two Stallions turned their attention to ensuring that their Prince ate and drank, mother-henning him. Much to their amusement, once he was full, his eyes began to droop, and within seconds he was asleep.

"Strangers of distant Lands, Friends of Old, we have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." Elrond declared as the Council began, sparing a moment to smile softly at the edge of the Council where Asfaloth, Shadowfax and Faölin stood, as of yet unnoticed- largely due to the Notice-Me-Not the Stallion had managed to weave over the three.
"Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction, and none can escape it. We will unite or we will fall. Each Race is bound to this Fate, this one Doom." Pausing to gather himself, not missing the look exchanged between Estel and Legolas, he continued "Bring forth The Ring, Frodo."

Everyone watched as the Hobbit slowly moves forward, gently, cautiously placing the ring on the plinth. There was an outbreak of murmurs, and a gasped "So it is true" from Boromir of Gondor. Frodo himself returned to his seat next to Gandalf with a sigh, clearly relieved to be free of the Dark Object.

Almost in opposition to the Hobbit's actions, Boromir rose, and announced "It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" he asked as h paced before the Council. "Long has my Father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it." Aragorn quickly rebuffed the idea before it could take hold in anyone. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other Master."
"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir sneered at him. All eyes turned to Legolas Thrandullion as he stood angrily, clearly to defend his friend.
"This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." the Prince spat.

Faölin started at this new information.
:Lord Elrond raised him.: Asfaloth informed his Prince. :Among the Elves, his name is Estel.:

"Aragorn?" the Gondorian spluttered, his eyes wide. "This… is Isildur's heir?" It was clear to Faölin that the man found the Heir...lacking.
"And Heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas happily drove his metaphorical sword home.
"Sit down, Legolas." Aragorn requested quietly.
"Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King." Boromir declared stubbornly as he sat.
:Pouting child.: Shadowfax snorted derisively, causing the others to snicker quietly.

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it." Gandalf stated firmly, bringing the Council back to it's purpose.
"You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed." Elrond laid the fact before the council. Before anyone else could speak, one of the Dwarves leaped to his feet, grabbing his axe and approaching the pedestal.
"What are we waiting for?" he questioned, and, before anyone had the chance to stop him, swung his axe as hard as possible down onto the Ring. However, he was thrown back by the Ring, which began to whisper darkness into the minds of the Council. The axe was shattered.

Faölin shrieked as the Darkness attempted to penetrate his mind, rearing up in upset. Naturally, all attention turned to him as the Stallion threw the Darkness out of his mind.
Elrond, knowing his friend would be hating the attention, and hating himself for bringing it, turned to the foolish, stunned Dwarf, and scolded him. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came!" he sighed. "One of you must do this."

Surprising everyone, Boromir raised several reasonable points. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"
However, this pessimistic ending to his speech served to irritate Legolas, who again rose to confront him.
"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

Naturally, it was Gimli who spoke up. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?!" he asked angrily.
The Gondorian and Elf ignored him. "And if we fail, what then?! What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?!"
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" The Son of Gloin continued, clearly irritated at being ignored. This sent the other Elves into an uproar, and the Dwarves leapt to support their Kinsman. "Never trust an Elf!"

Gandalf also rose. "Do you not understand that while we bicker among ourselves, Sauron's power grows?! None can escape it!"
:Fool.: Asfaloth snorted. :As if saying something like that will stop a fight between an Elf and a Dwarf.:
At Gandalf's statement, the entire council devolved into yelling. Rather proving Shadowfax right.

Irritated, Gwaihir shrieked, silencing the bickering. "ENOUGH!" he berated the Council. "You squabbling fools! You are harder to corral than chicks!"
"I will take it! I will take it!" Frodo declared bravely into the ensuing silence, then faltered. "Though...I do not know the way."
With a heavy sigh, Gandalf moved forward and placed a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear."
Aragorn knelt before the clearly afraid youngling. "If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword."
"And you have my bow." Legolas declared staunchly, joining the group.
"And my axe!" came the quick addition of Gimli, clearly unwilling to be outdone in any way by an Elf.
:Yes.: Asfaloth noted slowly :His shattered axe. How useful.:
"You carry the fates of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done." Boromir declared heavily, slowly moving to join them.

"Heh!" A Hobbit rushed from behind some bushes. "Mr. Frodo is not goin' anywhere without me!"
"No indeed," Elrond noted, amused "it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." The rounder one flushed slightly, but held firm.
Two more Hobbits emerged. "Wait! We're coming too!" they declared.
"You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" One informed the Council.
"Anyway you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest… thing." The other said.
"Well that rules you out Pip." the first of the two snorted.

Shadowfax seemed to be torn by something, his ears flickering.
:Shadowfax? What troubles you so?: Faölin enquired softly.
:This group will need aid in their travels. With your permission, My Lord Prince, I would serve as the steed for Isildur's Heir.:
:I myself would be unable to do so...however, I will not bar you from bearing him.:

With permission granted, Shadowfax moved forward, his hooves clicking on the stones, until he reached Aragorn, nudging the man gently.
"Shadowfax?" the Dunedain frowned softly.
"It would appear, my Son, that Shadowfax wishes to aid you in your Quest, and intends to bear you for as long as is needed." Elrond smiled, then grew serious. "Nine companions… So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"
"Great!" One Hobbit, the one called Pip by his friend, said cheerfully. "Where are we going?"

"Father?"
Elrond looked up as Estel entered his study, closing the door behind him.
"Estel." he greeted. He did not press, merely adopted a questioning expression.
"Who is Faölin?" came the quiet question.
"Where did you hear that name?" Elrond asked, stunned.
"I was speaking to Gandalf about Shadowfax- apparently he is why the Last of the Meras is here. Glorfindel interjected, and they began arguing. Gandalf was attempting to cajole access to someone called Faölin. Glorfindel's temper rose with each attempt, though Mithrandir seemed oblivious. Fortunately, Pippin distracted Gandalf." the man hesitated. "From what little I could understand of their to-ing and fro-ing, this Faölin is somehow a Lord to Shadowfax?"

"I and Glorfindel met Faölin, many, many years ago. Slowly, we formed a friendship with him. He lives in the woods surrounding Imladris. I would ask you not to attempt to seek him out, for his sake of mind and wishes. You can ask Arwen for more details on him if you wish- she was lost in the woods as an Elfling and he stumbled upon her and returned her to the twins, regardless of his terror for people. He also helped her more recently- he carried Frodo, Estel."

"You are hiding something." the Dunedain narrowed his eyes. "Ada...what is he?"
"Aragorn-"
"I do not mean him harm, Ada. In fact, if possible, I would thank him for coming to Arwen's aid- twice."
"... Faölin came from...somewhere else- no, Estel, I will not elaborate- and his Grandfather is a deity there- the God of Magic and Mischief. His eldest son, Sleipnir, is Faölin's Father."
"And?" Estel pressed, not giving up.
"His form is that of a Horse." Elrond sighed, giving in as his adopted child sat back, his eyes wide. "The dear Stallion communicates mentally, in a similar form to that of Lady Galadriel. He does not, however, press into your mind quite so presumptuously."

"That does rather explain how he is Shadowfax's Lord." Aragorn mused. "Is this why the Twins have been guarding your garden so fervently, Ada?"
"He exhausted himself, and witnessing his kin sacrifice themselves to halt the Ringwraiths took a further toll on him. I believe Faölin intends to leave once the Council is dispersed."
"Is there any possibility of an audience with him?" came the cautious request. "I would thank him for Arwen, and for Frodo."
"As you have actually asked, and not attempted to force the matter as Gandalf has, then I will see if my friend will grant your request."

Aragorn winced. "Mithrandir will not be granted an audience, will he?"
"With the way he is acting?" Elrond let lose a derisive snort. "He would have more luck stopping Sauron and the Ringwraiths alone."
"Aye."

"I will be heading to the Eyries now." Gwaihir informed the young stallion. The two were in the garden- Asfaloth and Shadowfax had returned to the stables, Shadowfax to prepare for the quest, and Asfaloth to rest his leg.
"I will see you soon, my friend." Faölin informed the Great Eagle. "As soon as the way is clear and safe, I too will be heading home."
"'Tis for the best. You are on edge here." the bird nodded in understanding.
Faölin snorted. "Aye, and I will be far less so once the Grey Istari is no longer a-hovering."
"He is foolish. Oh, he is no Saruman, but his standing in society has swelled his head considerably."
"I have seen it before. The one I knew looked very like the Istari, which...really does not help matters, to be truthful."
"I can see why it would not. Farewell, my Student."
"Farewell, my Teacher." came the reply as the Eagle beat his wings, easily taking to the air.

Alone in the garden, Faölin ambled around, being careful to stay on the grass and not damage any of Elrond's plants. He was just gently grazing the grass when the gate opened and familiar footsteps sounded upon the path.
"Elrond." Faölin greeted softly. "I thought you said you were going to be trapped by paperwork all day?"
"Indeed, that was my plan for the day. However, my son visited me in my study." Moving to a low stone bench beneath a tree, Elrond sat down.
"Estel, or one of the Twins?"
"Estel. Apparently, he overheard an argument between Gandalf and Glorfindel about you, and came to me for clarification on some points which confused him. Largely, how you could be Shadowfax's Lord."
"I see...what did you tell him?"
"Unfortunately, Estel is...persistent. In the end, I vaguely explained that your Grandfather was a God, that your form is a Horse, and that twice you have came to the aid of Arwen. He passes on his thanks and swears not to reveal your secrets."

"Ah...He wishes to see me in person, does he not?"
"It was requested, though he will not force it as Mithrandir attempts to."
"Why will he not stop?"
"He is...unused to being told no, as one of the Maiar."
"Arrogance does not become one of his learning and standing." Faölin sighed. "I will meet with Estel, though it will prolong the length of time you do not see me for. I wish for you and Glorfindel to be present- I will be uncomfortable meeting him alone. Please ask your son if he would be so kind as to not bear any weapons."

Aragorn took a deep breath, smiled nervously at his older brothers, and followed his Ada and Glorfindel into the garden.

The Stallion standing under a tree at the far end of the garden was stunning. His black coat gleamed, and his eyes were the colour of every piece of greenery in Arda at their most vibrant.
"Greetings, Lord Faölin." Carefully, he bowed to the horse.
"Greetings, Estel, son of Elrond. I am Faölin Sleipnirson. There is no need to address me as Lord."
Aragorn jerked slightly at the voice. Though he had been informed of the Stallion's method of communication, it was so different from Lady Galadariel's in that it was liquid honey, and he did not rifle through his mind as the Lady did, merely presented his voice into your mind.

"I would thank you for twice saving Arwen, and for bearing Frodo to Imladris." he replied, pulling himself back to the conversation.
"It was nothing. Both times Arwen managed to get herself into a dangerous situation, and the Littling was fading fast."

"Yes...she does that." Aragorn admitted ruefully. "Which does give my thanks more meaning."
"Your Ada is my friend. I could hardly allow harm to befall his daughter."

"Enough of that." Elrond advised, moving to a bench and sitting, followed by Glorfindel, an action which Aragorn copied. "Estel, Faölin does not accept praise, regardless of whether he deserves it or not."
"Ah." his son nodded. "I see that now."
"Well then, you are sharper than us!" Glorfindel interjected with a rueful smile. "It took us far longer to understand."

"Shadowfax will bear you for your Quest." Faölin said, his tone serious enough to gain all of Aragorn's attention.
"Yes, he has offered."
"As he allows you upon his back, you will treat him with all due respect, will you not?" The threat hidden in the question was clear.
"Of course I will!" the Dunedain exclaimed, somewhat offended.

"Estel." Elrond soothed quickly "our friend only speaks in care for his kin, and in knowledge of cruel enslavement himself." He chided.
"Oh." Aragorn breathed, wincing, "I do no harm to none but creatures of Sauron and Saruman." He declared.
"It is well then." the Stallion bowed his head. "Like as not, Shadowfax will return to Rohan when the Ring is dealt with. He may have left somewhat willingly, but it is still his home."
"Somewhat willingly?" Aragorn wondered.
"Your Grey Istari saw fit to kidnap him. My friend complied as he knew the situation, but nonetheless..." Faölin trailed off, irritably.

Closing his eyes, the Dunedain winced. Now he knew why Gandalf had not been granted audience with this wondrous Stallion. His Ada had said that Lord Faölin had undergone cruel enslavement. Forcing Shadowfax to bear him...
"I would apologise for him if I thought it would mean anything." He said quietly.
"Do not apologise for something beyond your control, that others have done." Came the flat reply. "It does none any good."

Aragorn sighed as he left the garden, escorted out again by his Ada and Glorfindel.
"You seem stunned, Brother Dear." Elrohir observed, amused. A slight flick of his eyes highlighted Gandalf just visible around a corner.
"Lord Faölin is...incredible." He finally settled on. "I do not believe I will ever be able to forget the audience he granted me."
"You thanked him for saving Arwen, did you not? The first time...he did not give us the chance to thank him directly." Elladan inquired.
"Of course I did. He does not see it as something he should be thanked for."

"I told you he would not." Elrond interjected wryly.
"He is very selfless."
"No. He is unused to being seen as important and worth care." Glorfindel corrected sombrely.
"What did they do to him?" Aragorn wondered tentatively.
"Too much. Far too much hurt was bestowed upon him." came the grave reply.
"Were they punished?"
"Unfortunately, no, though one of great power did declare that some would be so."
"Well, there is that, at least."

"I have the urge to go to Shadowfax and declare that whilst I will ride him, I will not enslave him, and will most certainly allow him to return to Rohan at any point."
"Good, my Son." Elrond praised. "I will go with you. Afterall, I have promised my friend that I will check on Asfaloth's leg."