Title – The Sweet Grass

Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain

“Go, Shadowfax, and make your farewells. I would speak with Éomer.” Gandalf gently pats my neck and dismisses me.

The wind sings in the long grass that gently brushes against my flanks as I gallop past. A pretty young filly catches my eye. Soon we are running together with the herd, the breeze blowing in our manes. The ground echoes to the sound of thundering hoof beats.

My master tells me that Valinor is fairer than any place I have yet seen, but how could it compare with the plains of the Riddermark? Could any other grass taste as sweet?