Love. Is there any other force in our lives that has a greater effect over the paths which we choose to take? I once heard that the greatest thing you'll ever learn in life is to love and to be loved in return, and that a life without love is like a flower striped of its petals, and now, as I write from my room high in Orthanc overlooking the tail of the Misty Mountains, I can see that never a truer word has been spoken. For it is due to love that I find myself in Isengard.

My story begins many miles away in Rohan, the land in which I was born, and that in my heart will forever remain my true home. My parents originated from the Westfold, and were of lines directly descended from the Éothéod. They married young, as was generally typical of my people, and whilst most parents would be pleased that their child had found true love, this was not the case with my grandparents. In a cruel twist of fate, I never found out the truth behind my parents move to Edoras, but from the pieces of the puzzle I have managed to fit together it would seem that it was due a general disagreement about their marriage throughout the two families. Both being in possession of the strong-willed temperament that seems to be prevalent amongst the Rohirrim, a trait that I have also inherited, they did not let others stand in the way of their feelings for each other, and shortly after being married left the Westfold and settled near Edoras, severing all ties with the families that they left behind.

Issuing from a stone carved in the likeness of a horses head, a stream runs from near Meduseld, twisting its way though the city. Passing out under the dike that surrounds Edoras, it weaves its way across the undulating plains on its way to join the Snowbourn. Midway between the city walls, and the road to Dunharrow that traverses the stream still stands a wooden thatched cottage, surrounded by lush green pastures, which until recent times had provided the grazing for several horse of typical Rohirric breeding. This was, and shall forever remain the place that I call my home.

Just two dozen summers have passed since I was born in that very cottage on a hazy evening in mid Víressë. I was an only child, and spent my childhood in the same way as most that are brought up in the Riddermark with parents in the cavalry. Horses were always a major part of my life, so much so that I don't even remember being taught how to ride, it just seemed like a skill I had possessed from birth, and the long carefree days of my early years were mainly spent on horseback, charging recklessly over the plains without a care in the world.

Before my birth both my parents had been members of the Meduseld Éored, my father being an Éowigend, one of the higher ranking members, and my mother a Hælend, one of the healers, but once I was born she relinquished her position to be able to raise me herself, only returning to the cavalry once I was in my teens. I was therefore incredibly close to my mother, often accompanying her to the market in Edoras where she worked in one of the saddleries, which is how I learnt the skills that would later earn me a living. Although I was also close to my father, his duties with the cavalry often took him to distant lands, taking him away from his family for many months at a time. But despite that, the times that we spent together were always special, times that I will never forget, and it was my father that taught me how the wield a sword.

I received my first horse at the age of eight, an eight year old, fat, scruffy grey pony stallion with legs that appeared almost too short for his body, and an immense, shaggy mane. His name was Stybba, named after the famous horse that bore Master Holdwine during the great wars that were long since past. For years he was my constant companion, with whom I shared a love - hate relationship. He was difficult to ride, bolting and rearing at every opportunity, and very fond of nipping, but to me that just made him more fun, and taught me to be a better rider. We spent several happy years together, but the inevitable happened, and by the time I was 15 I had far outgrown him, although even to this day I am considered short amongst my people. Whilst he was still capable of carrying my weight, my legs hung beneath his rotund belly, making riding him difficult and uncomfortable, but not wanting to part with him, I took to riding either of my parents war horses instead, much to their annoyance. Many a time they went out to the stables to find one of their great steeds missing where I had taken it out without their permission instead of suffering an uncomfortable ride on Stybba.

Enter Rooster. Never did I think that a single horse would be able to take up such a large space in my heart. I first lay eyes on him shortly after my sixteenth birthday had passed, when a year of my "borrowing" of their horses had lead my parents to realise that the only way to resolve the problem was to find me another horse of my own, and Rooster was that horse. When I got him he was still only a yearling colt, his body still slightly out of proportion, his legs marginally too long for his typically adolescent torso, but all the signs of the powerful, muscular horse that he would develop into were evident. Where exactly he came from I still don't know, for although he looked like a typical Rohirric horse, being well built, yet capable of travelling at great speed, his name was far from typical. But that mattered not to me, it was love at first sight. His coat was a bright, fiery chestnut, with an equally stunning mane and long flowing tail of the same shade, which at the time I got him was still slightly wild, occasional hairs sticking up at the wrong angle where they were not yet long enough to lie flat. From between his eyes, running down the entire length of his nasal bones, and extending over both of his nostrils was a perfectly even, pure white blaze, and each of his four legs were painted with unblemished, white stockings, finishing at his knees and hocks. A typical colt, he was bolshy, and had an unbelievable ego, for it was clear from watching him cantering around the fields with the other horses that he was fully aware of what a magnificent creature he was. He also had a unique sense of humour. All too often he would walk up behind you, bite you, then canter away, and it wasn't long before he worked out how to unbolt his stable door, freeing himself onto the plains, refusing to be caught until he had either caused adequate damage to others belongings, or worn himself into the ground.

Breaking him to ride was a whole new game. If Stybba was a challenge then there isn't a word to describe what Rooster was like. Rooster was so feisty he made Stybba seem like an angel. Getting him to allow you onto his back wasn't a problem, it was staying there that was. He would buck, rear, bolt, and shy, and I spent more time on the ground that I did on his back. He could be so difficult to handle that my parents even threatened to get rid of him, but I refused to be beaten. It had been my dream since I was a child to be a member of the cavalry, and in my heart I knew that he was going to be the perfect mount, even if it took me years to train him.

I had only had Rooster for about 9 months when my life changed dramatically. The Cavalry had been called to the aid of Gondor after a large force of Easterlings had started to attack, and both my parents had ridden with them. They had been away for several months, when on a cold autumn morning in Yavannië I was out in the paddocks tending to the horses. There had been an early frost, and the long grass glistened in the pale morning light, crunching underfoot. I had just taken Lómawien, the newly weaned dappled grey filly that my parents had bred from their own horses out of her stable and turned her out with Rooster and Stybba, when I heard heavy footsteps on the crisp grass. Turning in the direction of the sound, I saw a large man, clad in heavy mail approaching, his large war horse waiting patiently at the fence. He was undoubtedly one of the marshals. As he approached I could see a long, silver sword in his hand, and knew immediately that he was there to bring bad news, for the sword was unmistakably Wælhlem, the longsword that was an heirloom of my fathers family, and which he had carried with him to war. The had both been killed in battle, my father crushed under his horse when the brave creatures chest was pierced with a spear during a charge, and my mother was stabbed whilst tending to a fallen horseman during the same battle.

In seconds my life was turned upside down. My entire family had gone leaving me completely on my own, with three horses to look after and no source of income. I did what work I could find, helping on the neighbouring farms and in the shops in Edoras, but it was impossible for me to earn enough to cover the cost of the horses. After two months of struggling, I was eventually forced to make the heart breaking decision to sell Stybba. Although being the smallest of the horses and the cheapest to keep, I couldn't use him to generate an income, and after over eight years together he went to live on a farm over the other side of Edoras, to take up the roll once again of being a childs companion. Fast forward four years, and after a struggle my life was returning to being somewhat normal again. I managed to find myself a job in Edoras working in a tailors belonging to a friend I made whilst working in the market. I wasn't a job that I was particularly good at, so I tended to deal with the customers rather than assisting in making the garments, but I enjoyed it, and most importantly, it provided me with a constant income.

By that time I had also fulfilled my dream and followed in my parents' footsteps and joined the cavalry, coming a member of the Meduseld Éored, with Rooster as my steed. The change that came over him whenever we rode to war was unbelievable. Instead of being the crazy, uncontrollable monster that would buck and rear at every opportunity, his behaviour couldn't be faulted. It was almost as though he realised that both our lives depended on him, and I could trust him completely. No matter what happened, or how badly he was hurt he would carry on regardless, making the bond we shared ever stronger.

Life with the cavalry taught me a lot, and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw in battle. I had always thought that I would enjoy the thrill of charging towards the enemy wielding Wælhlem, but the real horror of it took some getting used to. On one occasion, not long after I had joined the cavalry we were called to Minas Tirith to assist in defending the city. During a break in the assault my eored were instructed to help take the injured up to the Houses of Healing. Seeing the injured there shattered all images I had had of war, and it was then that I knew that I had to follow in my mothers footsteps and become a Hælend. There was something deep down that told me that this was something that I needed to do, to somehow undo some of the damage I would do during battle. The training was hard, but proved to be worth it, and I felt like healing was something I had always been destined to do.

It was during my time in the cavalry that I meet Leafa, one of the people who has had most influence on my life. We were in the same corðor, and both joined the cavalry at around the same time. We soon became very close, offering each other support, and it wasn't long before I was adopted into her family as her sister.

We had not been back long from war in the east, when a saddlery in the market came up for sale. Immediately I knew I wanted it, and before I knew what was happening it was mine. Finally I had a job I was good at, having learnt the skills I needed to repair and make tack from my mother as a child, and being in the Riddermark it was a business that couldn't fail to thrive, for almost everyone had at least one horse that they needed equipment for, if only just a headcollar or lead rope. With my life back in order, I started to indulge in my passion for horses once again, purchasing a couple more horses, including a draft mare to help me transporting stock for my shop, and also bred a couple of foals. But the highlight of my new found financial freedom came when I was offered the chance to take back Stybba, history having repeated itself with his young rider having outgrown him.

It seemed as though life could get no better. Business was booming, I had a family again, I was doing a job that I loved, and had the time to spend doing what I loved best, spending time with my horses. But just two years had passed when another massive change came over my life. As a child my mother had always told me stories of distant lands, of the fair folk in Imladris, the dwarves that had lived deep under the Misty Mountains, and the Holbytlan in the Shire. I loved the hear these tales, and they were the fuel that made we want to travel, something that once my shop was running well I did whenever I got the chance, usually ending up in the elven realms of either Rivendell or Lothlóren, for I found myself fascinated by their immortality, and envied them greatly. However, there was one tale that she used to tell me that filled me with fear, although once I was older I found out that that was exactly what she had intended it to do. Knowing that I was the sort of child that was likely to wander, going off exploring where ever I thought their might be something interesting or the chance of an adventure, my mother told me tales of the Ents in Entwood, making them out to be large creatures that would kill me if ever I stepped into their forest. The stories did their job, and even once I was older and knew that her story was only to keep me from riding off on Stybba to find the forest, I still feared the Forest, although that was a sentiment I shared with a lot of my people. The fear of the Ents I had was so deep routed that it even prevented me from travelling to Isengard, for fear that I might encounter one on the way. But eventually my desire to see the Wizard's Vale made me face up to my fear, and on a cool Urimë morning myself and Rooster departed for Isengard.

It was during that trip that I met Daywalker, a wizard residing in the tower of Orthanc. Never did I expect to find love in Isengard, but as soon as we met there was an unmistakable spark between us, and I knew that we were meant to be together. Although he didn't understand my love of horses, and I really didn't understand his magic, we fitted together like two halves of a broken pot, and quickly became inseparable. My fear of meeting an Ent near Isengard as good as disappeared (although I still wouldn't like to meet one), and my trips back to the tower became ever more frequent, with Daywalker travelling to the Riddermark in between. We hadn't been together for that long before he proposed, but I immediately knew my answer. We were married shortly after, but with neither of us able to up and leave our homes we spent the first months of our marriage apart.

I said before that I used to envy the immortality of the elves, but that all changed once I was married. Just being away from the man I loved for months was enough to make me realise that to be forever tied to the circles of the earth after those that you loved had passed on was a fate far worse than dying. Spending so little time with my husband became unbearable, so after a lot of planning, I made the hard decision to move away from the Riddermark, leaving my home near Edoras, and moving into Orthanc. It was a massive upheaval, for there was no way that I was parting with any of my horses (by that time I had managed to acquire nine of the creatures), not after struggling for so long to be able to keep them, so that required me to purchase a smallholding near to Isengard, just within the boards of the Mark, allowing me to house them within walking distance of my new home. I also had to find a way to keep my business running without having to constantly be going back to Edoras, and leave all of my friends, moving to a land where I knew only one person. The way of life was to be a complete change as well. No longer would I be able to stop out of my front door into lush pastures full of horses, or have to walk for several minutes to visit my nearest neighbours. But as soon as I found my way up to my new home on the eleventh floor of Orthanc and was greeted by my beloved husband I knew that I had made the right decision.

And now, as I look out from my window high in Orthanc overlooking the tail of the Misty Mountains, I find myself asking once again, is there any other force in our lives that has a greater effect over the paths that we choose to take in our lives than love? And my answer has to be no, for it is due to love alone that I find myself in Isengard, leading a life I never thought I would lead, and happier than I ever believed it possible to be.

Having not been born one of the Istari, Sea had her staff created for her when she moved to Isengard. It is about 5 foot long, making it almost as tall as her, and was crafted from a single piece of willow that she cut from a tree that grew by the stream next to the house in which she was born near Edoras. An intricate pattern of leaves, which spirals around the staff has been carved down its entire length, and although the wood has been carved, it still retains the natural shape of the branch from which it was cut. At the top the wood splits into three pieces, each of which forming a spiral, coming together in a point at the top to form a hollow cage.