"I'd say, beasts."

"What do you mean?"

Llane tilted his head, took his eyes off from Lothar, and asked Medivh. Three of them were at a spacious courtyard of Stormwind, with three giant beasts-griffins. Their tutors decided that It was time for them to learn how to ride a griffin, the fastest and marvelous mount in Stormwind. Only skillful Dwarves were capable of taming them properly. Only few were sent to Stormwind and only few chosen people of the kingdom are privileged to ride the rare beast. The future champion and the young yet powerful mage, both of the crown prince's childhood friends, were among the chosen.

The lesson started early this morning. They soon got to know how to get up on griffin's back except Lothar. He was wrestling with one of the beasts for hours, trying to mount on it. For some reason, unlike other two, Lothar's griffin strongly refused its rider. The court yard was filled with rough shouting and sharp shriek of both man and the beast.

"Beasts. They have their own way to rank themselves, the way Mother Nature gave."

"Like...?"

"Bring the opponent to its knee by sheer power."

"Oh, true. What else can explain that?"

Llane, satisfied of Medivh's explanation, noded. They watched Lothar's 9th attempt to mount his griffin failed. Lothar dramatically flew in the air, tumbled and rolled on the ground. He sprung up from the ground with swiftness of well trained warrior. The prince and the mage gave Lothar blase claps and murmured few words of encouragement.

"It's okay, Anduin. It's natural it takes some time to get used to. Don't be so impatient."

"Shut up, you."

Panting, Lothar snarled at Llane.

"I believe you can get on it sometime today."

"And you."

This time, at Medivh.

"Mine is particularly picky. How come yours did not hurl you down?"

Fuming with rage, Lothar growled at Medivh. He couldn't understand. He was a fine horse trainer. He has natural talent for it. No single horse had escaped from his skilled control. Besides, after all, griffin is a mere mount like horse, only bigger. He was quite confident and thought he would handle a griffin freely more than his friends. However, on the contrary, it turned out he was the only one who couldn't even mount on the beast.

For Llane, he could understand, for the griffins are treasure of royal family, gifts from Dwerven kingdoms, Llane surely was familiar with the bests. But Medivh? It was not like undermining his friend, who is already one of the most powerful mage in Azeroth, but Lothar was certain at his superiority of physical ability over a scholar. His pride was hurt.

Medivh chuckled at obvious resentment on Lothar's face and gave him answer with indifference.

"I taught mine right attitude for its rider."

"What? How?"

"Let's say I planted obedience for me."

"You sly demon..."

"It's nothing but a simple magic, Anduin."

Lothar growled again, and darted toward his griffin.

It was after sunset when Llane and Medivh, who had been tired from waiting Lothar to succeed and gone inside to have a little bite, returned to the courtyard. It was silent. They wondered why they couldn't hear anything. Soon, they found vague silhouette of Lothar sprawled out on the ground, next to the griffin.

"Anduin! We brought something to drink for you. Dwarven ale!"

Llane dangled a bottle of ale but Lothar didn't respond. Llane shocked.

"Is he dead?"

"What, out of his rage?"

"I'm serious. Didn't he hear I shouted Dwarven ale?"

It rang a bell. Medivh's eyebrow furrowed lightly. For one thing, Lothar not responding to Dwarven ale was truly not natural unless something terrible happened to him. Secondly, Lothar's not someone who gives up what he decided to do. He is, so to speak, a man of iron will. And as for griffin, although all those in Stormwind are well trained ones, they are deadly predators in themselves. Besides, no one could possibly say Lothar and the beast had good impression for each other.

Gasped, the prince and the mage hurried ran toward his friend.

"Anduin!"

Just then, as if irritated by their yell, the griffin tossed and turned. And so did Lothar. They grumbled, and snuggled into each other. They both seemed extremely exhausted from their fierce struggle, yet found each other quite comfortable. As the griffin's giant beak burrowed into Lothar's arms like a baby bird would do so, he absently patted the beast's bushy head as if the beast's his loyal dog.

Shocked again from the bizarre scene, Llane looked back the mage. Medivh shrugged his shoulder.

"Like I said, beasts."

Llane couldn't help but bursted out laughing.

After long sip of ale, Lothar declared.

"I named him 'Med'."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did I just say 'Med'? Sorry, I meant 'Mad'."

Medivh's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, he's a pretty but picky one. Cranky even. So I naturally named him 'Med'. No, 'Mad' I meant. Excuse my clumsy tongue."

Llane bit his lower lip, did his best not to giggle. Lothar bent his eyes, tilted the bottle of ale and drank out of it. Or at least he tried to do so. The liquid suddenly poured out on his face, soaking his shirts. Stunned, Lothar found a pale and slender finger lifting the bottom of the bottle up.

"Hey!"

Lothar lifted up his voice, blamed the mage. Medivh gave him a toothy smile.

"Sorry. You know me. I get cranky like that."