Horses

Thundering hooves echo through the arena accompanied by the harsh throb of ragged breathing. Rippling muscles testify to the sheer power stored within. A spirit that submits, but is never subdued. Even through the layers of saddle and pads you feel it.

But you feel it most of all in your aching forearms. The constant pressure on the reins as your steed strives to throw off all encumbrances and embrace the heady power of the wind and freedom.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of horse novels, never considered myself a horsey-girl, and might not even reply with a horse if asked my favorite animal.

Why? There are a couple of reasons, but mainly because I’ve grown up around horses. I started taking riding lessons at seven, and have owned my own horse since the year I turned twelve. Now I work at a place where I have a whole herd of horses under my charge, to look after and ride.

So folks automatically assume I’m a horsey-girl.

But I’m not.

Don’t get me wrong, I love riding. There’s nothing quite like the feel of the wind in your hair, and the strength of the steed beneath you, and the beauty of willing submission when the horse bends its will to yours.

But I don’t love each and every horse. And I don’t think that every horse is a sweet-tempered beast that just wants to be loved and adored and given its freedom. Trust me, there are some lemons in the mix.

Growing up, I refused to read horse novels or watch horse movies. (Other than the Black Stallion series and the Scorpio Races—my two exceptions.) Both novels and movies exaggerate the sentimental bond between horse and rider, giving horses unrealistic human characteristics and failing to present them as animals.

True horsemanship becomes about understanding and sympathizing with the horse, rather than having good old fashioned horse sense. A horse that misbehaves is just a horse that is misunderstood.

It’s due in part to these novels and movies that horses seem to have been relegated to something that only girls are allowed to enjoy. That bothers me. What happened to the age of the cowboys? To mounted warriors and the magnificent chargers ridden into battle by knights.

True, horses and riders can bond. And when it truly does happen, it’s beautiful to watch. I’ve experienced it. I’ve owned my horse, Ariat, for five years now. Seems like sometimes he can tell what I’m thinking before I have time to cue him. Horses, like dogs or cats, get to know their riders and their habits. Ariat recognizes the sound of my spurs and knows my whistle—and if I’m lucky, he’ll actually answer it and come when I call.

I’m a one-horse rider, and he’s a one-rider horse. We get along just fine.

All that to say, I never thought I’d write a horse novel.

But I am.

Of a sort.

It’s an epic medieval fantasy that takes place in a country of horse-masters. Horses tend to be a natural part of most fantasy—who could resist the knight in shining army, or the flash of the tournament lance, or the charge of the Rohirrim?—but even more so of the fantasy world I’m imagining. The novel may not be about horses, but they are a necessary piece in the story.

There is a delicate balance required to write unique steeds that are realistic and horse-like and to present the true bond between horse and rider, without painting horses with a human shaped brush.

When we do that, we fail to portray the true beauty and majesty and nobility of a war-horse and its master.

What do you think? Do you enjoy reading novels where horses have more human characteristics? Is there a book you can think of where this has been done really well?

If you have spent any length of time wandering the dust-ridden halls of this blog, then you might just know that I spend a decent amount of my time in the saddle. Especially during the summer months – odd considering that I live in Texas where the summer months are known for the blazing sun, triple digits, and mud cracks large enough to be portals to distant lands . . . or at least, the center of the earth.

Having spent so many hours in the saddle, I’ve come to realize that riding is like music.

Each horse has a distinct rhythm. The beat of their hooves, the varying pace, the distinct walk, jog, lope, and run that is all their own, contributes to their unique melody.

Each saddle sings its own song. An old saddle with its well worn leather skirt, wooden tree, and metal pieces frosted with rust creaks a different ballad, a tale of miles already traveled, than the squeak of a new saddle with leather stiff and unbroken, and metal pieces still jangling to find their proper place.

Each landscape offers a different harmony. The drum of hooves over hard packed earth differs from the harsh scuffling through dead leaves lining the forest floor or the soft thudding through the arena sand.

For me, part of the joy in riding is discovering the beautiful melody that each different horse, saddle, and landscape affords. Finding the horse’s rhythm so that horse and rider can move as one. Hearkening to the ballad of the saddle and listening to the tale it unfolds.

There is a sort of grand symphony present in the world around us, if we just have ears to hear it. The whisper of a turning page. The orchestral chirping of crickets in the night. The blazing glory of a sunrise. Each is a song in itself, an offering to the praise of the One who created it all, the Singer who set the song in place.

So, when I weary of writing and the formerly pleasant clacking of the keys as I type becomes only slightly less grating than the scraping of nails across a chalkboard (one of the worst sounds in the world!), then I take to the saddle once more, lose myself in the rhythm of hooves, and allow the cares and worries of the world to fall from my shoulders, borne away upon a fleeing wind.

Are there any sounds that seem to bear more melody than others to you? Have any others become enchanted, as I, by the song of the saddle?

Of War-Horses and Their Masters

Song of the Saddle

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