Ifran placed a bridle over a bay horse's head, gently easing
the bit into his mouth and buckling the throatlatch. She led the horse,
named Quasar, out of the stables and into the courtyard, where Legolas
waited for her with both of their packs. Taking her own pack upon her
shoulders, Ifran mounted Quasar and helped Legolas up behind her. They
spoke no words as they cantered out of the courtyard and past the gates of
Mirkwood. They were silent as Quasar lengthened his stride and galloped
over the rolling hills carpeted in a sea of green grass, hopped over dry
ditches and lifted his legs high when crossing shallow fords.
They rode far west until at last the sun was halfway into the horizon. They found a good place to stop and made camp there, turning Quasar loose to search for food and water and roam freely. As Ifran started a fire, Legolas came behind her and placed a hand upon her shoulder as the tinder caught a few sparks and began to blaze into larger pieces of wood. She looked up at him with a small smile, which he returned. They shared a brief yet tender kiss before moving on to prepare dinner.
This is how it was for three days: riding quickly yet unhurried by day, stopping to rest at night. Their journey's purpose was simple - to allow Ifran and Legolas to grow closer away from the distractions of the real world, to seek seclusion and simply rest in the pleasantries of nature's beauty and of each other.
Quasar never tired, though the riding was often at a quick gallop and there weren't many halts. He seemed to have an endless storage of energy within him, never stumbling along his trek, never letting his passengers fall. Though his mahogany pelt shone with sweat and his mouth foamed, dripping onto his chest and forelimbs, he would not slacken until Ifran willed him to do so. Besides, this was what he was bred and born for: to run all day, even with a heavy burden upon his back, and carry the burden willingly and safely until nightfall. Even if he were to run into the night, he would not stop unless his master issued it. In Legolas and Ifran is where Quasar's trust lay, and he lay it gladly.
The sights all three came upon were amazing as the lands grew hillier and steeper, allowing them views of entire valleys, waterfalls, rivers, and clearings. It was early autumn, and the trees had just started turning their different colors. Forests of green slowly melted into forests of orange, red, and yellow, with some still retaining their emerald hue as if to hold onto the last bit of summer while it could. The grasses were slowly starting to brown and become fields of gold. The streams and rivers grew ever chillier, cold droplets spilling onto the exposed necks and faces of the Elves, and providing brief relief for Quasar's hot pelt.
The nights were peaceful, always clear and cold and filled with stars, which Ifran and Legolas would stare at for hours, just talking quietly between themselves while a warm fire burned nearby. Their beauty was unmatched by any other thing of nature, they had agreed. So simple and yet profound, the stars were a great work of art, and worthy of their attention.
And so for three days, the Elves made their journey westwards in peace, with no trouble from patrolling Orcs, as they'd been warned were about. But it would all change on the fourth day, and for days to come, for the both of them.
They rode far west until at last the sun was halfway into the horizon. They found a good place to stop and made camp there, turning Quasar loose to search for food and water and roam freely. As Ifran started a fire, Legolas came behind her and placed a hand upon her shoulder as the tinder caught a few sparks and began to blaze into larger pieces of wood. She looked up at him with a small smile, which he returned. They shared a brief yet tender kiss before moving on to prepare dinner.
This is how it was for three days: riding quickly yet unhurried by day, stopping to rest at night. Their journey's purpose was simple - to allow Ifran and Legolas to grow closer away from the distractions of the real world, to seek seclusion and simply rest in the pleasantries of nature's beauty and of each other.
Quasar never tired, though the riding was often at a quick gallop and there weren't many halts. He seemed to have an endless storage of energy within him, never stumbling along his trek, never letting his passengers fall. Though his mahogany pelt shone with sweat and his mouth foamed, dripping onto his chest and forelimbs, he would not slacken until Ifran willed him to do so. Besides, this was what he was bred and born for: to run all day, even with a heavy burden upon his back, and carry the burden willingly and safely until nightfall. Even if he were to run into the night, he would not stop unless his master issued it. In Legolas and Ifran is where Quasar's trust lay, and he lay it gladly.
The sights all three came upon were amazing as the lands grew hillier and steeper, allowing them views of entire valleys, waterfalls, rivers, and clearings. It was early autumn, and the trees had just started turning their different colors. Forests of green slowly melted into forests of orange, red, and yellow, with some still retaining their emerald hue as if to hold onto the last bit of summer while it could. The grasses were slowly starting to brown and become fields of gold. The streams and rivers grew ever chillier, cold droplets spilling onto the exposed necks and faces of the Elves, and providing brief relief for Quasar's hot pelt.
The nights were peaceful, always clear and cold and filled with stars, which Ifran and Legolas would stare at for hours, just talking quietly between themselves while a warm fire burned nearby. Their beauty was unmatched by any other thing of nature, they had agreed. So simple and yet profound, the stars were a great work of art, and worthy of their attention.
And so for three days, the Elves made their journey westwards in peace, with no trouble from patrolling Orcs, as they'd been warned were about. But it would all change on the fourth day, and for days to come, for the both of them.