memories of the new-years-morning rides I used to make when I was younger...
It is a tribute to Lomion, mellon of my youth, and a welcome to Rowan, my new Roheryn.
"Winter"
Aragorn sighed happily and drew his coat closer about him. Snow was slowly layering onto
it, but inside the coat his body warmth had created a pleasantly snug little cave, lined
with lambs' wool and safe from the frost.
The hooves of his horse made little sound in the thick layer of snow, and besides its
breathing, the forest was eerily quiet.
All around them snow was piled up in small mountains where it had fallen off the branches,
or where the trees stood further apart. Great old trees they were, oak and beech and the
occasional fir. Far apart, but their crowns shielded the forest floor of direct light.
A real path didn't exist, but Aragorn found his way by trusting on his own intuition and
on that of his horse. They made no real speed this way, but that wasn't really needed either.
He wasn't in a hurry.
Snow fell, but not with the fierceness of the past few days. Rather the snowflakes drifted
down gently, as if it wanted to assure him it was no longer going to keep him cooped up
inside. Both Aragorn and the horse felt fresh and brightly awake. They were only a few
hours North from Rivendell, but it was early still and they would make the first guardpost
of the Rangers at mid-afternoon at this speed.
But at the moment Aragorn cared about none of that. The light was fresh with morning and
snow and yet shuttered by the trees, and he was outside after days of hiding inside from
the storms, and he was riding a new horse.
The horse Arwen had given to him.
This is Mellon she had said softly. May he be with you when
I cannot.
So he had named the horse Roheryn. Horse of the lady. It was bold and strong, and its
confident manner pleased Aragorn. Presently the horse seemed just as delighted and excited
as its rider. It chewed on the bit and snorted at the snowflakes that fell past its head.
Aragorn smiled softly and stroked the dark grey manes with a gloved hand.
Do you miss the Evenstar too, Roheryn?
For the horse had been with Arwen since its birth, and had been hesitant to turn away from
her at their departure from Rivendell.
Almost as hesitant as Aragorn himself had been.
Roheryn rumbled softly, moving his head as if to encouraging the stroking hand of his rider.
Aragorn obliged with fondness. Already his sadness and bleakness about riding away from his
Love were fading, for he was young and healthy, and his command was needed in the North.
Most of all, Arwen had kissed him, lightly like blossom on a summers' breeze, and the
thought that his love for her was answered elated him beyond words.
Suddenly Roheryn froze. The ranger startled and turned his attention to what had spooked
the horse, but quickly found it was not frightened at all. It held its head high, the
ears pricked up at something in the distance, and it gave an excited snort.
Aragorn followed the gaze of his mount and finally found what thrilled it so. A couple
of deer moved calmly through the forest, stopping now and then to nibble at the bark of
a tree.
Finally, when the deer had gone, Roheryn leaped forward with breathless thrill, and
began to walk again. Aragorn laughed softly and patted the broad neck.
You and I – we're going to be just fine.
END
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