OOC Note: This is simply a tale Ellynore speaks of, whether it is mythology in Rohan or simply of her own creation is difficult to tell.
It was a dark night; storm clouds bubbled up over the long, grass covered planes of the Riddermark. Silence stretched over the land as far as the ear could hear, and the grass barely stirred as far as the eye could see. In the distance, the faintest rumble of thunder could be heard, echoing across the plains due to the magnitude of the calm before the storm. A forked tongue of lightning flickered off in the distance, lighting up a brief glimpse of a solitary figure, standing alone upon the plane. This was Aerenhil the Bold! A solitary man, whose fighting prowess stretched before him like an eventide shadow.
Yet there he was, away from battle and bloodshed on a different kind of quest. One to capture the one of the mighty Mearas, the horses bought to Middle Earth by Bema long ago. The Mearas, most beautiful and intelligent of horses in Rohan and beyond were said to roam free, some passing through the fertile planes of the Riddermark. Aerenhil had been set this challenge specifically after losing a mighty battle with the Dunlending Gwenhond who resented Aerenhil's great prowess and fame. Inorder to regain his honour after this humiliating defeat Aerenhil had asked the mighty Dunlending to set the Rohir a great challenge.
So here our hero was, striding boldly across the grasslands, his mighty strides taking him far in his search. As he walked, the rain started, bubbling down in torrents so vast that he feared he may be washed away in the storm. Lightning crackled and thunder roared. The tempest a battle in itself. Yet the champion continued, fighting bravely through the wind and rain until he could barely stand from exhaustion. Then...he heard it! A faint cry on the wind. The soft winnie of a horse carried over the thunder around them. A flash of lightning lit up the scene and in the distance he could just make out the figure of a foal collapsed on the floor, deeply afraid of the storm.
Hurrying over to the poor creature, he knelt down beside it, noting its leg to be caught in a series of roots. Battling bravely against the elements, he pulled out his mighty sword Thrundring and sliced through the roots like a scythe to wheat. Freeing the foal. The foal nuzzled up to him and the two sought shelter from the storm in a small copse of trees. Hours passed and the two nestled there. The storm blew over and soon blue sky appeared on the horizon. In the light of the dawn, Aerenhil looked upon the foal and knew it was one of the Mearas. Knowing their illustrious intelligence, he asked, "Would you help me win back my honour?" and the foal nodded. Days past and soon the two came to the residence of Gwenhond who looked upon the fair visage of the mighty steed and became awed and afraid. Bowing before Aerenhil he nodded his respect, "You have won back your honour! May all draw inspiration from your deeds."
