Rating: G

 Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, derived from the work of J.R.R. Tolkien

Summary: It is a Rohirric tradition for new knights to participate in a race on horseback, but Meriadoc Brandybuck is slightly too short to ride a horse. This story was written for Marigold’s fifth challenge in which I was asked to write a story involving a game.

Thanks to Ariel (http:www.bagendwest.net) for beta reading

“May I speak with you a moment, Master Holdwine?” asked Éomer, the new king of Rohan.

“Certainly, my lord,” replied the hobbit.

“It has been the custom for many years for new knights of the Riddermark to engage in a horse race with the other knights. You are a new knight; however, you are unable to ride a horse independently. How do you think we should manage this?”

Merry thought about this for a moment. He certainly could not properly ride a horse, and did not wish to be tied to one. A pony would be of little use when competing against horses.

“Could I not ride with the lady Éowyn, as I did on the journey to Gondor?”

“I had thought of that. It is unprecedented to ride double in a race. Also, traditionally only knights participate in this type of activity, and my sister Éowyn is not one.”

“She is as noble as any knight, and it is the only solution I see.”

“Very well, you may ask her to ride with you.”

Two days later

Merry and Éowyn mounted their horse, while the other members of the Fellowship, along with Faramir, watched in anticipation. They did not doubt the quality of the horse and riders, but nevertheless two on a horse could not go as swiftly as one.

As the race began, Éowyn and Merry held up well. They were not in the lead, but not falling behind either. When they were almost at the finish line, another horse cut them off and they found themselves headed straight toward a mound where soldiers had been buried after dying in the fight against Mordor.

Out of respect for the dead, Éowyn stopped the horse abruptly, throwing Merry off the horse. The kings of Gondor and Rohan sprinted to his side, with three hobbits following as quickly as they could.

“Are you injured, Master Holdwine?” Éomer asked breathlessly.

“I just got the wind knocked out of me, no harm done.”

“Allow me to examine you and decide that for myself. I may be able to ease the soreness that you are certain to have in your back.” Merry just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at Aragorn’s healer reaction.

Three hours later

“Your knight has no serious injuries, just a few bumps and bruises.” Aragorn assured Éomer.

“I suppose his size was a disadvantage, and Éowyn was not able to secure him and herself to the horse at the same time.”

“His stature is a hindrance in such cases, but I have never met a more worthy knight. You are fortunate to have him.”

“Indeed,” smiled Aragorn. “I have learned much from my travels with hobbits, though perhaps the most important lesson they taught was that the greatest spirit often resides within those of the smallest stature. The great have many things yet to learn from the weak."