T16+ - mild SLASH - ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE, War Horse, Captain Nicholls confides in Joey & Topthorn about both their private lives.

Pairing: Albert Narracott & Captain Nicholls

ONE-SHOT: Day of Rest

A single log separated Joey from Topthorn, though they were both stallions, they bickered and neighed as if immersed deeply childlike in conversation, something that never ceased to amuse Captain Nicholls. Glancing once in a while up at the pair then onto the parchment at hand, whilst his right palm and fingers curled delicately at a stick of charcoal. He deftly outlined the horses' forms first in lines that flowed in order of major anatomical structure to the analog ambit of limbs, then adding round shapes to their respective areas of interest, first their joined heads. Next their chests and legs, their kneecaps and finally, the crudely rhombus-shaped hooves.

Never one to be still, the animals nipped at one another's upper flanks and mane, the captain understood that this was merely a show of familiarity and mutual affection, he chucked to himself while complimenting the horse, "You've the fighting Irish spirit like your owner, Joey."

"Stubborn, and a little green around the edges," he rose from a wooden post from which he leaned against, putting the brittle charcoal back in it's withered, and slightly dented tin casing, he wrapped his leather folder about the half-finished sketches and placed both items within a small cranny under a line of saddles, "But I see you've made a friend out of olde topsy-turvy."

"He seems to have taken a liking in your presence, if not you," the captain laughed as he approached both paired horses, they whickered to his slightly outstretched hands and placed their stout muzzles in his palms, he patted the stiffly whisker-lined chins and said to the slightly older thoroughbred, "And you, Topthorn, weary grump bollix-"

"-need to stop badgering your mate here," he let go of Topthorn long enough to retrieve a lump of sugar from his overcoat's pocket, he held his hand to Joey who gratefully nibbled and licked the gentle palm clean, "I know, I know-" he laughed when the darker horse nudged his shoulder, feeling forgotten.

He smiled, pulling out of his pocked another considerable heap of sweets, he allowed the horse to reach forward until the lips opened and nipped the sugar bit by bit, "-It's hard befriending someone you don't know."

"And believe me, I've had my fair share of shaking strange hands whereas you have unusual persons sitting on your backs," Captain Nicholls attached lead ropes to both horses' hackamore bridles and slid both their door-planks out of their slots, "A horse's life seems so much easier. No worries. Just graze, frolic all day in meadows-" the captain mused while taking both lead ropes in hand and loosening them until he and the horses were at a comfortable length, he turned around and led them out of the temporary pens, "Fattening up with apples from your keeper."

"I was equally lost, just as you," he said, gazing back to both horses which walked beside him with their massive heads held high, but diffidently. The military captain nodded toward a busily conversing person far off in the vast encampment, "Major Jamie Stewart, my superior made that transition painless when I was recruited from Wales."

The man caught the captain's eyes and the company he led, waving a discreet greeting as the man with both horses in hand smiled and continued onward to their destination. The cluster of stables were a few pitched tents and a captain's quarters behind, but the captain couldn't help the tragedy of the situation which lay hidden behind the screen of his upturned lips. He wished the impossible: that the mighty steeds could speak and answer his questions. He asked them anyway, knowing he wouldn't get a reply short of a whinny.

"Enough about him," he asked, his stride becoming wider and the pair of hooves no longer clopping on stone, but rather thumping and swishing deftly over an expanse of lush grass, "Do you ever wonder about your owners?"

"About Albert?" he glanced to Joey, the brown bay steed's ears cupped forward and twitched. He directed his question and attention to the other black thoroughbred, "Or of your stable master?"

"I would," he answered, trudging on ahead with both faithful horses in tow. The simple gleam of the sun over the earthily-scented grass brought him to utter his reasons now that they were all out of ear-shot, and the fact that he would rather no one else to hear, "I'd miss home, the fenceless meadows, the stove-heated winter blankets, the kind words, the encouraging words. Simple everyday things you horses expect."

"Laying my nights under the stars in the spring times, counting butterflies in honey clover patches and tallying sheepdog pups," he laughed quietly as they rose to the top of the abundant hummock, he looked back to the ever-busy camp, "Chasing after lake frogs in the summers," Captain Nicholls turned away and made their way up another slope, "Swimming hard into the veins of the sea until the inlands look small enough to tuck into your mane…"

"What a wonder the life of a horse must be," he continued as the horses strode behind silently, save for the occasional nickering, "Yes, the bit and bridal would surely disgust me, especially that damn plow if I may say."

"You're both lucky…" he mused, the pair following wordlessly nudged his pocket where they smelled sweet apples and pungent Brie cheese, "Verily much indeed."

"Your service should be brief, and before you both know it, the military life would be far behind you like a dream you forget before waking," the Captain said, taking from his pockets the cheese wrapped in wax paper and string, he broke the small morsel in half and fed it to each horse, "I wish I can say the same about my duty."

'Not much further now,' he thought as they moved along under the sun's protective warmth. He glanced to a small mirrored pond trickling dew and alive with many ducks, their ducklings swimming after. His hand moved to Topthorn's lead rope and unclasped it from his bridal, he spoke while repeating his actions to Joey, he said, "As long as there's a war, I'm needed here, in combat."

The black thoroughbred pranced off while Joey sniffed at the man's sleeves, as if not wanting to leave the man's side. He stroked the dark mane and worked up another topic, one which left him yearning to hear Joey speak.

"I wonder how Albert is," he stated, the horse leaned into his hands as he reached the long fleecy ears, "Whether he's taken to job at a stable," his voice trailed off again at the though of the young man, Joey's content wheezing allowed Nicholls to regain composure and articulate candidly, "He'd make a great trainer and caretaker, yet."

"Do you miss him, Joey?" he asked, stopping the rubbing of his hands long enough that the horse huffed and pricked his ears up again, "So do I," Captain Nicholls answered, stepping away from the horse and striding along the lake's banks, "I hope not to meet him on the battlefield, it'd break my heart to see a poor family with the loss of their only son."

"Maybe, if I follow you home, I'll give you back to him and tell him that you were magnificent in the dun of artillery," he said after facing Joey briefly, "Put in a good word for me, eh, Joey," he knelt to the ground to pick up a small cattail, which he thumbed until the velvety seeds dropped into the pond, "That not all trenchmen are sheepish. Nervously coy, but not sheepish."

"I must admit, I'm a little shy talking about him to you, Joey," he stuffed his hands into the deep pockets and scuffed the heel of his boot over visible stones as he continued through toward a small cluster of trees, "Just the nominal of bits," he murmured after giving thought of what to say next since he was practically alone, "Is that a shock to you, a man blushing over a boy?"

The horse strode up beside him and sniffed his pockets. He pulled out a large, red apple and offered the fruit to the horse. The muzzle and whiskers prodded the fragrant object before the thick leathery lips enclosed over it and crunched it happily to bits. Captain Nicholls' eyes followed the falling white bits into the pond where they lay scattered before being picked by the duck families. Many young ladies captured his eyes, but this one young man possibly five years his junior held his heart. Since that fateful day where they met in town under grim circumstances, the boy protecting his horse and even lying about his eligibility.

A sigh escaped him, half in dream as he remembered the boy Just below enlistment age; bright innocent eyes and the hard, yet gentle hands of a farmer, "This isn't the time or place to fall in love."

"Absurd," he exasperatedly huffed, Joey followed suit and bumped shoulders as the huge gentle beast came to a halt, "It's obvious that I don't talk much about myself, is it."

His mind wandered to all the newly enlisted 'boys' lumbering clumsily about camp, and he felt suddenly alone for their lack of experience in warfare. As if he were a one-man army forced to take upon his shoulders the tides of war, something inside him accepted the plot of ground that he was sure to occupy, another part screamed 'What About Albert!' Desertion was Not acceptable, but it was an option; surely he would be thrown into jail for some odd months, but at least he could see the brave smile after seeing the horse unscathed. The only scar that could be counted would be those that he gathered within his months behind bars, other than that: he would have his home in Devon.

The man said, a deft hand straying to the neck and patting the muscular expanse after the reality of his daydream wore thin, "Nearly all the young men here reminisce longingly about their farms, their academics, their sweethearts, their waiting fiancées."

"It's hard to have no one to release your thoughts to," he said, his hand finding the yeomanly flag still tied to Joey's bridal, "Not many lend kind ears," he shoved his hands down into his pockets, feeling somehow calmed in the unspeaking horse's subtle presence, "You don't talk much either, Joey."

"Oddly, that's very comforting," his voice interrupted the horse's grazing only briefly so that they noticed one another, "You listen as much as I talk, and though you don't answer my questions, which I want to hear-," Joey snuffed and nibbled his coat's hem as he patted the horse to settle him down, "-I can't help but to feel a glint of anticipation-"

"-Expectancy," Captain Nicholls chuckled, his green eyes flashing as he looked southward to the forest wilds, "Optimism that I'll see you off to Devon," mischief seeped through his grin as he though more and more how he could ride out into a village, then hook around to a port and sail away back to England, preferably through the Sussex Downs, he smiled to the seemingly-oblivious thoroughbred, "Where young mister Narracott should be waiting for you."

"Captain Nicholls," an officer came riding up the suddenly too-public knoll, and breaking the captain completely clear away from his flightless dreams.

"At ease, private," he said after exchanging respectful salutes. The look on the young soldier's face was a clue enough to warn Captain Nicholls of putting his plans on permanent hold, he held his breath while keeping a placid expression on his face.

"We move out to the German campsite before dawn," the man said, the horse below jittery and dancing under the saddle, "Did Major Stewart not inform you?"

"No, I thought we were stationed here until the second foot-cavalry arrives next week, whereas they'll be taking over the charge," the Captain said, shaking the surprise off his face and recomposing himself before his subordinate.

"I'm sorry if you were mistaken, captain, but the German's forces are advancing into neutral territory and if no one defends it, they'll claim it," the rider explained, and added, "We'll lose both our edge and advantage over the remaining countries," the horse pounded the ground as the then forgotten Topthorn returned from frolicking, "They've bunked down for several days now, a small company of no more than between one-hundred, maybe three-hundred head."

"Where, private?" the Captain said.

The inferior officer steadied his mount and answered, "They're near the German-French border."

"Go and tell Major Stewart that he's making a terrible mistake," Captain Nicholls ordered, he Knew deep down, in the back of his head, from his core to his heart that something was dreadfully amiss.

Several reasons were known as of the moment hearing the camp hadn't budged long after they shipped off their wounded, and Should have been putting miles behind into further nonaligned undefended zones. Something was wrong since they only had maps dated back half a century to rely on, and most of the farms which were in the particular area must have either receded or expanded. They were blind at this point of the battle. Not with the German's surely rested soldiers, but with their own answer by suddenly attacking instead of ordering a thorough reconnaissance or a small parlay of sorts. The 'men' populating the encampment were nothing more than boys, mostly children not much older than Albert. They were headed for a sure throat-slitting, and he knew it. The realization fell like fuel poured over a blaze.

"He's already given the order, captain," his gaze shot up to the saddled private, the man tied a thick leather cord to Topthorn's bridal and held both reins and rope in his hands, "We're to leave no later than midnight for the surprise attack."

"If it is such a clever 'Surprise', then why is it so predictable?" Captain Nicholls allowed the obvious agitation to startle the other male, he dismissively waved his hand after a tightly knit salute, "Carry on."

The other trotted off with both horses but sped down the hill in telltale hard strides, which echoed back up the knoll. The man knew there was not hope enough left to keep the fear he felt invisible, he flinched at the sensation of a velvety muzzle brushing up the back of his neck to his cap, "Service to Her Majesty ends early for me, gentlemen," he said, pulling out the last piece of fruit still lodged within his pocket, "Let's hope fate is kinder to the pair of you where she ran out of patience for me."

He clipped the lead rope to a ring on to Joey's bridal, and tied the end to the opposite side. He looped the makeshift reins over the massive head and swung a leg over until he sat seated comfortably on the thoroughbred's bare back. The horizon looked so much wider, the land so much more accessible, the threat of war so insignificant and easily escapable, the military captain thought. He glanced to the breaking camp and back to the tempting woods spread to the south. Albert was so near, and yet only a betrayal to his country away, he was in such a delicious dilemma that his heart beat in leaps and audible bounds. A tangled trail led through the woods, it's tall green foliage having the ability to hide anything up to three feet and beyond. He could disappear and bury his uniform with his past under the burrowed roots! Captain Nicholls turned Joey away from the base and towards the enticing forest a couple of kilometers away. He nudged Joey forward.

"Don't you wish you were home now, Joey?" he asked the horse while keeping his unblinking eyes to the gradually forward-marching woodland, "Nibbling oats, barley and apples out of his hands?"

He swallowed his fear in his dry throat as the thoroughbred continued their slow pace to certain freedom, "Feeling the comforting weight of Albert across your hind and belly as you gallop with all your might?" he lightly patted his boot heel against the horse's flank and they moved at a slowly increasing canter, "To please him with your obedience?"

"Does he hold tightly or does he have a firm grip? On your mane? Or your hoof?" the man questioned, but didn't mind waiting for an answer as he felt the millions of kilometers closing to a considerable distance, "He would pat you, brush you, admire you, wouldn't he?" the excitement in his voice apparent as he spurred Joey into a faster jog, "The feel of damp pelt comforts him as easily as countryside rain, too?"

Freedom was so near, he could taste the serene outlying countryside where Albert would be waiting, wringing his rough hands and hesitantly stealing moments during his never-ending cycles of chores to pray for Joey's safety. He would be waiting, but with good cause, because Captain Nicholls will appear on the road looking less of an officer than any other farmer. The rider spurred on his horse, the clearing was coming to an end, and they couldn't be more happy.

"If only I could see him again before my tour is moved deeper west into France," he nearly shouted since the thrill of his rushing thoughts seemed louder and less threatening the closer they came to the welcoming wood, "He can show me the damn plow you hate," Captain Nicholls belly-laughed as Joey kicked up grass behind them both and ran as if he were born with one speed, "And the barrel of oats."

"He can invite me to shine bridal bits, till rocky hillsides," he leaned forward until the flying mane brushed his chin with every hard-won step, he kept the smile where it infectiously glowed on his mouth as the forest lay within walking distance, "We can churn butter and cheese while you steal carrots out of the patch."

A shot fired behind him, whizzing by his ear and lodging within a tree's limb. 'Traitor! Deserter!' came a shout from the hilltop, Captain Nicholls glanced back and spied two inferior officers beside Major Stewart. He yanked the bridal sharply aside, Joey nearly fell but instead caught grip on the field before they plunged into the spiny branches reaching outward to them both. The two lesser soldiers knelt on one knee and pulled their rifles from their backs, Captain Nicholls disengaged one hand from the makeshift bridal reins and dove into his pockets. Up the hill they sped, but were blocked by a passing cloud which blended both forms into the forest's background, he rummaged further as the officers readied their arms, their fingers to the trigger. He pulled out a sizable white cloth and waved it furiously above his head, they made no move to lower their weapons or confirm with Major Stewart.

The man and thoroughbred finally broke through the cloud's shadow and were successfully seen by all three officers. They lowered their rifles and wholeheartedly apologized. Captain Nicholls quickly cooked up a believable cock and bull story of how he was testing Joey's basic footwork skills with a ride full-fledged into a tight corner. Behind his triumphant mask lay a heaping mountain of disappointed emotions that he knew he had to save until after he and Joey survived the ill-determined daybreak charge. Due time brought them back to the cabin where his suit lay in wait for wear on the bed he used mostly for laying awake at night, thinking of Albert and the promise. He abandoned the uniform and strode to the stables where Joey still stood unsaddled and confused, he put the leather folder into his coat pocket and patted down the horse's damp coat.

The man took a brush in hand and gently scraped the bur seeds out of the dusty brown coat. The thoroughbred sniffed about while standing still for Topthorn's scent. Captain Nicholls unbuckled and slipped off the hackamore bridle, setting the objects aside, he pulled off a nearby rack a newly polished bit bridal. The stainless bit slid into Joey's mouth as he worked the metal around to become accustomed to the cold, sharp feel and taste. The man buckled and readjusted the cheek-length, which afterwards he tied the reins to a post. He pulled off a rack a freshly soaped and oil-buffered saddle, fixing the article to Joey's back, along with a thin breast collar. Several stable hands walked away dismissed by the Captain until only the two of them stood face to face in the stall.

"All I want is one more chance to…" he whispered into the broad space after much pondering his mistake of turning around instead of pushing forward to freedom, he silently apologized to the horse and said afterwards, "I don't know what the devil I want with him."

"There is no man nor officer envious of the both of you as much as I," he said, after undoing the tied bridal reins from the post, "You especially, Joey."

"I'm afraid," he stated, walking out to the supper tent, he hardened his face but couldn't hide the slight trembled in his step as they approached closer to more petrified soldiers, "I'm terrified."

Joey looked about the full bowls and empty eyes staring at them both. Captain Nicholls saluted every now and then when a teary officer stood to bid him good evening. He prepared no speech to give the men courage, but he ate as much as his nonexistent appetite would allow amongst the ranks of his men, giving the 'boys' reason to smile a little more about. After trading a series of boot camp stories and small memorable tales of home, their commanding officer bid the young men goodnight, he easily strode off with Joey in hand. He was informed by the soldiers populating the supper tent that a few men on horseback were to lead the charge at daybreak, and the young men themselves would bring up the tail shortly after, but most likely not. The hope of seeing Albert and escaping dissolved as soon as they reached the cabin where his uniform lay like a funeral wardrobe.

The quickly silenced gulp eked out between his lips, he turned around and wrapped his arms around the gentle beast, some short seconds after, a soldier of the stables came to fetch the horse to hold a moment. He quietly thanked the private and made his way into the temporary cabin. Silenced sniffles could be heard through the walls, he dared not join in for fear that the inferior officers would think better of dying than surviving. He huffed out the feel of dry tears and began first with pulling off his beret then the buttons of his work-tunic, he pulled the baggy tail out from his pants seat and neatly folded the article after pushing them up over his head. The requirement to steady himself became urgent, he sat down on the bed and removed his muddy shin-length boots, then his woolen socks. He unbuttoned his mucking trousers, following the same fashion as the shirt, he pulled them off and folded the clothing.

In nothing but his shorts and undershirt, his stiff fingers trembled to the precisely pleated shadowed pale khaki button-up long sleeve, which was slightly darker than the pleated trousers. He shimmied into the pants, put an arm, then the other into the shirt, he buckled the piece to his waist after buttoning and tucking in the excess cloth. A pair of newly-polished leather riding boots clicked when he stepped into both, he lastly numbly pulled a heavy woolen coat over and buttoned the few clasps over his handiwork. The snorts and approaching foot falling hooves grew, he took the leather-bound folder out from under his clothes, eyeing and running his hands over the softly worn object, he quickly took his cap and put the folder atop his desk.

The men silently saluted as he made his way to Joey, he whispered before mounting and charging into the unknown, "Now more than ever, Joey, I wish I were you."

The end.

My first Warhorse Fic~! The piece is somewhat so-so & sad, but I had to Finish it, because its been in dialogue-only format since last Christmas. Inspired by the newly rehabilitated family Pomeranian puppy & a litter of kittens, they're just so damn mischievous and cute~! & the fact that I love newcomers Jeremy Irvine & Tom Hiddleston's acting, *Fangirl Moment* as for the film, it's phenomenal & a wonderful watch! I'll read the novel soon & correct myself later. (^~^)

*You want it? You Got it.
Before y'all leave me with a request for an M-rated AlbertxNicholls story, well it's already finished! Yay!
q(^~^)P , see if it lives up to it's own hype...don't tell speilberg~!