Of Wraiths and Kings, and Friends and Rings (Calling All Nazgul)

[The last sane person]

Somewhere off in the distance, a bird sang its praises to the coming of the morning. Volricom got up from where he had lain next to Raendil and stretched, adding his happy whinny to the birds’ chorus. He leaned over and snuffled in his master’s ears, to alert him to the coming of the sun, and the impending race. Ray’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up stretching from his bed of cedar boughs.

Ray grinned and scratched the big stallion behind the ears, Volricom lipped Ray’s satchel and snuffled Ray’s sleep tousled hair. “Oh, fine you feed-bag with legs! Here is your treat.� Ray laughed and shook the canvas bag, and Volricom perked his ears and licked his lips as he heard the rustling of food. Still chuckling, Ray tied the nose bad up behind Volricom’s ears and let him munch on the specially prepared mixture of nuts, oats, barely, berries and other grains.

It was a special mixture he had perfected while staying with the mighty horse lords of Rhovanion, as a youth. His father was a fast friend of the houses of the Northmen; indeed, his mother was a northern noble woman. As such, during his stays with his mother’s people and the elves, he become a cunning horseman indeed. The mixture gave a great boost to stamina, energy and speed, not only for the horse, but for the rider as well. He had cooked a special batch earlier, the night before and was munching on that as he started to warm up his muscles.

For that, he had the elves of the wandering companies to thank. One summer, he accompanied Valandil and the royal household to Rivendell; Ray had run off one night. Escaping for a time into the gardens and adjoining field, where he saw a group of warriors, with a banner he did not recognize. They were singing, dancing and…sparring. This got Raendil curious. Without forgetting his manners, he went forward with a greeting, “Hail fair people! I am Raendil, son of Mathron. May I come to watch?� He was proud of his elvish, for he had picked it up faster than Valandil and could speak fluently.

The elves laughed, and called him over. One asked if he could sing, which made Raendil promptly forgot his shyness and amazed them all with his singing. In turn, he was amazed with their martial prowess. He had started to learn their stretching, workouts and drills with the wobbly movements of a child, but it was now replaced with the firm, confidant grace of a young man. Once thoroughly warmed up, he took the feed bag off and rode home to wash off and fetch his sword.

“I know its peace time, but outside these walls, anything is game, no point in being foolish!� With that he girt his battle sword around his waist, with which he and his fathers men defended the borders of their home. Leaping onto Volricom’s back, he took off for the starting point of the race, giving his mount plenty of warm up time.