Gideon had always wanted to meet the great hero Maxwell, the one who had once saved his life and inspired him to take up the blade. He had been told how the hero had retired, living out a farm out in the country side. They all neglected to say that he wasn't human anymore.

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Plowshares
By: Theo Winters

When he had first heard that the great hero Maxwell had retired to work on a farm, Gideon had assumed that it would be a place befitting the man who had saved so many lives. Fields stretching out as far as the eye could see, growing every sort of grain imaginable, with powerful farm animals working day and night to create the sort of a perfect life a man like that truly deserved.

The reality of the situation was completely at odds with what he had pictured. Yes, there was a field, four of them in fact. One had been freshly tilled with another was hosting a dozen or so cows that were stupidly grazing on the overgrown vegetation. The farmhouse was made up of a number of shacks that had been forced together into something that resembled a building. Somehow it managed to stand upright, but it had a tilt in the corners, though none of them could agree on a direction to try and fall.

There was a barn behind the house, the wood wind worn and gray, with signs of repairs on every surface. Yet unlike the house, it seemed like it would remain standing for the foreseeable future.

The farmer was watching him, chewing on something he didn’t care to know about. He was more muscular than most swordsmen, wearing a dirty shirt and patched pants. He seemed to be thinking about the question very carefully before answering. “So, you’re looking for Maxwell?” he finally asked.

Gideon sighed. “Yes, I know he lives… here,” he said, motioning towards the disappointing farm.

The farmer chewed for a few more moments before nodding his head. “That he does. Just finished plowing the south field and is resting in the barn.”

“Thank you,” he said, not meaning a word of it. In his mind the confirmation was as good as an invitation, so he marched past the farmer and headed towards the barn. The farmer said something to his retreating back, but it wasn’t worth paying attention to.

As Gideon crossed the distance to the barn, he pondered what he was going to say. Maxwell was the man who had defeated the Shadow Emperor, tamed the great dragon and returned the rightful king to the throne, and Gideon’s idol. Ever since the wandering hero had saved him and his family, all without so much as breaking a sweat. Since that day Gideon had strived to become the same sort of man, learning to wield a sword and staff as well as how to fight with his fists. After years of training, he had finally set out on his own, but wanted to find Maxwell, to thank him for all that he had done.

One of the large barn doors was already half open, illuminating the hay covered floor on the inside. He could smell the animals that lived there, but it wasn’t unfamiliar to him as he had spent his time mucking out stalls as part of his training. He pushed the door the remainder of the way open and stepped inside, only to find that it was empty except for a large draft horse resting in a stall. The horse looked up as he came in, the dark brown fur almost vanishing in the dim light of the barn.

“Maxwell? I wish to speak to you,” Gideon called out, hoping that he was somewhere out of sight. Though other than the sound of the hooves shuffling on the ground, there was no answer.

“I have no request for you, and I do not wish for you to leave your well-deserved retirement. I just… wish to speak with you.”

The horse let out a snort, ears flicking back a little as the huge stallion looked at Gideon, then lowered his head down to press against the door of the stall. With a low creak of the well-used hinges, the door swung open, not even latched, allowing the stallion to step out into the barn and towards the young man.

Gideon took a step back as the draft horse approached him, shocked to see just how big the equine was. He could barely see over the beast’s thick back as it walked past him, each fall of his hooves lading with a heavy thud against the hard packed dirt. The horse just walked over to the wall where the tack and harnesses were stored. The stallion lifted his head upwards, his nose reaching up into the edge of the hayloft. Yet instead of taking the hay, it grabbed something else, something that had been hidden under the hay. A large ring of greenish looking copper.

Puzzled as to what the horse was doing, Gideon could only watch as the horse lowered his head, the ring held between the equine’s thick lips. Carefully the horse turned around in place, moving his powerful body slowly, one hoof step at a time, until he had turned to face Gideon. For a moment he thought the horse was going to offer the ring to him, but instead the horse put it down on top of his head before letting it go.

The ring sank down over Gideon’s head to rest upon his ears. The metal was warm, tingling with the familiar feeling of a powerful spell. It made his head buzz and his ear rings, so he reached up to take it off.

“Please, leave that on for the moment,” the horse said, speaking with a deep voice that seemed to come from somewhere down in his hooves. He wasn’t speaking words, but the same sounds that all horses made, it was just that Gideon could understand them.

He dropped his hands, looking intently at the horse for a few moments. “What is this?”

“If you wish to speak to me, this will allow you to understand what I say,” the stallion replied, taking a step back and shaking his head and neck, a thick mane of black hair flying behind him.

Gideon just stared at this creature, his mind racing as he tried to understand. It wasn’t possible that the draft horse standing in front of him was the great hero, Maxwell, but that was exactly what the beast was implying. Yet, if that was the case, how could it have come about? How could such a great man be reduced to a common animal? “Have you been cursed to be a horse?” was all he could think to ask.

“Yes, but that was many years before what you know me for. It only took a few weeks for my friends to break it, and I was returned to my proper shape,” Maxwell replied, his ears flicking forward and back as he spoke. “Rest assured, the way you see me now is how I wish to be, and what I desire to be.”

The young man stumbled backwards until his back collided with the wall of the barn. How could one of the greatest heroes the world had ever seen want to be nothing but a lowly farm animal? It just made no sense, no sense at all! There had to be something more, a powerful spell that was clouding his mind, or maybe the fair folk had led him astray. Whatever was the case, something must have been done about it.

Gathering up his resolve, he rose to his full height and looked the horse in the eyes. “Do not worry, I—”

“No, you won’t,” Maxwell calmly interrupted, one ear flicking slightly. “Because there is no spell to break, no mental cloud to clear, no trick to be undone. You are not the first to seek me out, nor are you the first to declare that they will save me. I chose this fate for myself. I came to my friend’s farm when he was in desperate need of a draft horse, and took the spell of my own free will. It can not be undone, because I do not wish it to be undone.”

The horse spoke with the voice of conviction, yet Gideon found it impossible to believe. “Why would you want this?” he asked.

The stallion closed his eyes, his head lowering slightly with a low whinny. “Because I was tired of being the hero,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

One of the large brown eyes opened, looking at Gideon as the ears flicked to the side. Carefully the horse shuffled his hooves forward over the rough floor, moving closer to the young man. “What do you think the reward for being the hero is? Money, power, the hand of the princess? It’s not. The reward for beating the impossible odds, and defeating the implacable foe is being sent to fight against even more impossible odds. If you win, they cheer your name and send you your way. If you fail, you’re forgotten.”

That didn’t make any sense to Gideon, how was being a beast of burden better than being the hero? True, it wasn’t an easy life, but it was one that was always calling out to you. There was always someone who needed a hero, always some person to help, to save, to avenge. “You didn’t fail, Maxwell. Your name is still known by everyone. You were giving the riches of the kingdom; how could you throw that away to be… to be a stupid horse?”

The stallion snorted a bit, and took one step closer. It was a small step for the large draft horse, but it still closed the distance between them until they were only inches apart. Lowering his head, he looked the Gideon in the eye as one forehoof scraped over the ground. “Because here what I do means something. Working this farm, the fields, seeing the grain growing over the seasons, plowing the field, hulling the wagon to the market and back home again. I get more joy from that than I ever got from a sword. After I killed the Shadow Emperor, I felt nothing at all. When I plow a field, I feel fulfilled.”

The two stood there, staring at each other for a few more moments before Gideon let out a grunt and reached up to grab the copper ring, ripping it from his head and throwing it to the ground. “Just a stupid horse,” he spat, then turned and marched out of the barn, moving as fast as he could without looking like he was hurrying to get away.

Maxwell just shook his head, then lowered down to pick the ring up in his lips. The young man was far from the first to come searching for an idol, only to walk away angry and disappointed. Hopefully he would live long enough to understand, but the odds were not in his favor.

Carefully, the stallion placed the ring back in the hay loft. Where it would sit until the next young man came in search of the old hero, because there was always another that would seek him out, just as surely as he would never see the young man again.

* * *

Four months later, Maxwell was surprised to see the young man return to the barn. His leather armor was scuffed and slashed, with some pieces having been replaced while others were stained with old blood. His left arm was partly exposed, showing a number of fresh gashes through the skin. They had been healed, but not well enough to keep from scaring. His once clean-shaven face was thick with dirt and stubble, and his hair had been cut short by an unsteady hand.

Without a word, the man walked over to the hayloft and pulled down the copper ring, placing it back upon his head. “Is it really worth it?” he asked.

“Being a hero, or working on the farm?” the stallion asked, intrigued with the young man’s return.

“Either,” he snapped.

He nodded his head, his ears flicking forward as he took a careful step towards the man. “Working on the farm is worth it.”

The young man frowned a little bit, and seemed to deflate for a few seconds before he rose back up, standing ramrod straight. He took the copper ring off and returned it to its place in the loft before turning and once more walking away.

This time Maxwell followed him, at least until the barn door. There he stood, watching as the man made his way down the path between the fields, saying nothing to the farmer as he went past. As he reached the fence, he stopped and turned back, looking towards the farm and Maxwell, before with a shake of his head, he continued on his way.

Maxwell returned to his stall, taking a few moments to eat a little of the hay, wondering if the man would return again.

* * *

The winter came before they met again, but this time it wasn’t on the farm. Maxwell had been hitched up to the farmer’s wagon, hulling it through the freshly fallen snow into town in order to buy supplies for the remaining winter. As he stood outside the good shop, thinking clouds of fog rising from his nostrils, he found himself in the company of the young man once again.

The leather armor had been replaced with mail, which shined a strange silvery color in the winter sunlight. There was an old scar across his cheek, cutting through the neatly trimmed beard he wore. A large sword swung on his hip, larger than what he had at the last visit, and there was a slight hitch to his step and he approached.

“Still prefer being a workhorse?” the man asked.

Maxwell nodded, and let out a neigh, unable to speak in any way the man would understand.

The man glanced around for a moment, then reached into a small bag tied to his belt and fished out two sugar cubes. He offered them out in his open palm, once more glancing around in case someone was looking.

Bending down, Maxwell licked up the cubes with his tongue, pulling them into his muzzle to allow them to slowly dissolve, lowering his head in appreciation. It was a treat he didn’t often get, and he was going to savor it for as long as he possibly could.

“My name is Gideon,” the man said, reaching up to place his hand between Maxwell’s ears. The touch only lasted for a moment before it was withdrawn, then with a sigh Gideon turned and walked away, heading towards the edge of the small town. There seemed to be a moment where he seemed to slow in his walking, but it was only a moment. Then he vanished around the corner.

Maxwell pawed one hoof at the dirty ground. Gideon was in a dangerous profession, and there was a very real chance that he might never see the young man again. He found himself worrying, and hoping that the man would visit him again soon.

* * *

The next visit came late in the spring, as the wild grasses were growing tall and the fields were in need of being tilled. It wasn’t just the farmers' fields that would need to be plowed, as many of the neighboring farms had started paying for his services in their field as well. Maxwell was pleased by that, glad to know that he was helping a few more people and improving things for them in tangible ways.

That, and the lady three farms down always fed him apples while he was working.

But that was still a few days away, and for the moment he was simply enjoying himself, rolling around in the tall grass of the fallow field. There was just something relaxing about being able to just flop down and throw himself onto his back, his hooves kicking at the air as the scent of the grass washed over him. It also helped get rid of the very last of his winter coat, which was starting to itch.

He didn’t even hear the approaching footsteps, and only noticed that Gideon had returned when spoke. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself,” he said.

Opening his eyes, he twisted his head around to look up at the man while staying on his back. Gideon looked worn down, his armor was dulled and tarnished, with only the most worn spot showing any kind of shine. His boots were covered in iron plate, and he wore a helmet that obscured part of his face. A large kite shield now adorned his back, the tip reaching down to his knees, while his sword had been replaced with one that had a shorter, but thicker blade. One hand was stuffed inside of a glove, but he could tell that it was hurt from the way it was being held perfectly still. The copper ring was held in his free hand, and once he had gotten the stallion's attention, he removed his helmet in order to place the ring on his head.

Three long gashes ran along the side of his head, slicing across his ear and into his hair. The scars still had the pink shade that marked them as being recently gained. Though they were on others that had already faded away.

“You’re hurt,” Maxwell said, his ears pulling back against his head as he kicked out his legs so he could roll onto his side.

“It comes with the job I guess,” he replied, walking across the grass as he spoke. With a heavy thud he sat down next to the equine, a frown on his face. “Will it always be like this? Going from job to job, never having a place to call your own?”

Letting out a sigh, Maxwell nodded his head. “Guarding caravans is like that, always moving, always hurting. Until you get too old for it, then you have to become a local town mercenary. You’ve only been at this for a year at most, you're still strong and healthy enough to stop and find something else to do.”

“Like being a horse?” he said, snapping out the words, though there was no real force behind them.

“Of course not, I chose what was best for me, which was this,” he replied, motioning out towards the fields with his muzzle. “You need to find what will make you happy in this life, while you still have it.”

Gideon sighed and slumped down, reaching up with his good hand to remove the ring from his head. He didn’t drop it though, and he didn’t leave, he just sat there in silence. After a few minutes, Maxwell shuffled himself over the best that he could until he could press his bulk against the man, offering him some level of support and comfort.

They sat together like that as the sun slowly sank down in the sky, the edges starting to dance against the horizon. It was only then that he lifted the ring back up and returned it to his head. “Why a horse?”

Of all the people who had found him and spoken to him, that was the first time any of them had asked Maxwell that question. “Because I could still remember how it felt when I had been cursed all those years ago. It only lasted a few weeks, and my companion at the time had to stabled me, but I was content in a way I didn’t really understand. As time went on, as I did all of those things, I found myself looking back on those few short weeks as the rare time that I was just… happy. I found myself yearning for that again, wanting to have that feeling once more. When I found the spell that changed me, at first it was only meant to be temporary, I was sure that the feeling wouldn’t last. Yet it did, and by the time the spell returned me back to my human self, I knew that this was how I wanted to spend the rest of my days. That was four years ago, and I’ve never regretted it.”

“Huh,” was all Gideon said in response, rubbing his good hand across his knee as he turned to look away at the horizon. He didn’t say anything else, he just sat there looking off into the distance.

Maxwell turned his head slightly to look at the young man, his tail flicking a little against the grass as a fly buzzed around his ear. “Why did you become a mercenary?”

That made him laugh, though it came out as a short sharp sound with no joy behind it. “Because you saved my life.” For a moment something changed in the young man, the hardness that had been growing in his features started to melt away as he took in a long breath while leading his head back to look up at the sky.

“I was ten, my family lived on the edge of our village. It wasn’t a large village, and not very close to anyplace else, other than a den of trolls. They weren’t a problem most of the time, but one summer they started attacking the village. There was a night when they came in force, our home was the first one they attacked and set aflame. And then you were there, rushing through the doorway, the flames rising up behind you. You weren’t alone, but you were the one who killed the troll that had trapped us inside. That moment stayed with me for so long, it made me want to help people, to try to be there when they needed someone. Like you did for me.”

He didn’t remember that exact moment, as he had saved a lot of people in his past life, but he believed that it had happened. Trolls had always been a problem, but they wouldn’t have attacked a village unprovoked. More than likely someone had decided to get rid of them by force—even though trolls could be reasoned with—and the den had simply retaliated. Not that a child would understand that. “And you’ve been helping them.”

Gideon reached up and covered his face with his good hand, which partly muffled the long sigh he let escape. “I try, I try so hard, but it seems like there is only so much I can do. Yet I feel like I’ve killed more people than I have ever saved. I had thought… hoped, that once I started doing this properly, that I would feel different. That one day I would become a hero, like you, but every day I’m still just myself. I just kill people for other people.”

“That’s all I ever was,” Maxwell replied, his ears twitching backwards as he spoke. “You’re still young, you can still walk away from all of this. You don’t have to be this anymore; you can find a better way for yourself.”

With a snort, the young man reached up and took off the copper circle. “Just like you did,” he said, before turning and walking away, his shoulders slumping. He was heading back towards the barn, but Maxwell didn’t follow after him. Right now, he had to figure out things on his own, so he decided to stay out in the field, eventually falling asleep under the stars.

He caught one more glimpse of Gideon the next morning, speaking with the farmer before going on his way, but they shared no other words.

* * *

It was the height of summer when Gideon returned, but this time he wore no armor and only carried the sword at his hips. The scares had faded and his hand seemed healed, though marred by twisted skin. He wore a brown tunic and dark pants and seemed to be walking with much lighter steps than he had been before.

Maxwell lifted his head from the water troth as the young man approached, the water dripping off his muzzle and clinging to his upper lip. He tried to shake it off as Gideon walked into the barn, coming out a few moments later wearing the copper ring upon his head.

“You look better,” Maxwell said.

Gideon nodded, then walked over towards the stallion. There was a grooming brush in his hand, and Maxwell didn’t object as he started working it through his fur. It wasn’t needed, but he enjoyed the feeling of it, so didn’t do anything to stop him.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve talked about.” Gideon finally said as he worked the brush along the stallion’s neck.

He cocked his head to the side, one ear flicking forward, but otherwise saying nothing.

“I tried doing other things, tried to find something that felt right, but nothing ever did. There was always something missing, something I couldn’t put my finger on, until I realized something about you.”

Maxwell would have smirked if he could have, instead he just let out a soft whinny. “And what was that?”

The young man moved forward, until he was standing close to the stallion’s head, a smile on his face. “That you’re still helping people. I talked with your friend, and he said you do all the plowing and hauling for him and a few of your neighbors. You’re still you, still the same man who once saved so many people, but you found a way to help that fits who you really are.”

His ears flicked backwards in surprise. He had never really thought about it like that before, but there was some truth to that. He knew many of the locals, if not by name, then at least by site, and was always happy to be lent out to them if they needed. It truly gave him joy.

“And how will you keep helping people?” He asked, already starting to suspect the answer.

Suddenly Gideon was blushing, turning away slightly to hide the red of his face. “I’ve been speaking with your farmer friend, and… if it’s okay with you… he could use another horse around here. Though more for riding than plowing.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, which came out as a happy whinny as he scuffed a hoof against the ground. “You really are following in my footprints, or rather hoofprints! I don’t mind if that is what you want to do. I could use the company around here.”

Gideon smiled, then suddenly was hugging Maxwell around the neck. It was a motion that lasted only a few moments before he pulled away, but the look of joy on his face was unmistakable. “So, you’re a retired hero, owned by a retired wizard. Any others I should be aware of?” he asked.

“Well, the cow used to be a princess,” he said, thankful being a horse gave him a nearly perfectly straight face.

That made Gideon laugh. “Well, I guess you’ll have to introduce us. I suppose I should go tell your friend so he could start the spell,” he said with a wide smile. A moment later the copper rings flashed with golden light, which washed down over the young man, shining through his skin and clothing. For a few moments he was glowing as bright as the sun.

“You better get those off while you can,” Maxwell advised, taking a few side steps away as the light started to fade.

Gideon blinked a couple of times as the light faded away into nothing, reaching up to rub his eyes, coming up short when he saw his hands. The fingers were already starting to shift and twist, painlessly being reformed into a hoof even as he watched. He stood dumbfounded for a few moments before he started to work at his clothing, kicking off his boots and undoing his belt even as his fingers merged together, the sword dropping to the ground as his fingers became too stiff to move.

With one last struggle he managed to pull the tunic up over his head, revealing the toned body that had been hidden underneath. Already light gray fur was starting to grow from the skin as his muscles started to swell and grow.

Throwing the tunic away revealed that his face was already starting to stretch out, his ears beginning to grow and rise up the side of his head. He went to try to push off his pants, only to slap his newly formed hoof against his leg.

The changes moved quickly through his body as he grew in size, his body swelling outwards as the muscles seemed to build across his form. His arm stretched out longer, taking on the thin lanky look of a prize riding horse. The fur was quickly rising up the limbs just as it covered his chest. Some of his hair was falling out, but more of it was growing as his neck began to stretch.

He stumbled forward, coming down onto his new forehooves as his back seemed to twist, his hips and shoulders shifting to turn him into a quadruped. The fabric of his pants was being pulled tight as his rump swelled out to proper equine proportions, his feet having already become a matching pair of hooves. His growing tail was easy to see as the dock pressed out against the fabric, the tail hair itself pushing down into the legs of the pants. Somehow the clothing managed to hold together as it was stretched across his flank.

Gideon rolled his head back and forth as his neck continued to grow. His new brown mane sprang out over his neck, while some fell across his forehead. There was one last moment where his face still looked almost human before turning fully into a horse, his eyes shifting to the side as his muzzle fully grew in.

Then like that, there was only a horse left, even if it was a horse wearing pants. He was shorter than Maxwell, but had the lean sleek build of a horse made for running across the countryside. There was a feeling of motion about him even standing still, the way the muscles twitched across his body with every little move he made.

The ring slipped off his head, landing on the dirt with a thump, making both equines jump a little bit.

“How do you feel?” Maxwell asked, or at least asked in what passed for speech as a horse.

“Good,” Gideon replied, lifting up one hoof and looking at it before setting it back down again. He shifted his weight around on each hoof, tail and ears flicking. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.”

This was probably supposed to be a temporary change, just to see if it was what Gideon really wanted, but Maxwell was already sure that the farm just got its second horse. “Come on, let's go to the farmhouse so we can get those silly things off of you, then I can take you for a run. You’re going to love that.”

“I know I will,” the new stallion said, then followed after his mentor into his new life.

-=-=-=-=-=-

This story was written and copyright 2021 by Theo Winters, reposting and archiving are allowed as long as this copyright notice and the author's name are not removed. This story cannot be published without permission of the author, violators will be stuck as a human.