My Note:
Tell me if the ending to this chapter is too cliché, please. Also, the horse is supposed to be humorous and intelligent, not magical, in case you wondered… :-)
Tsanra yawned and stretched. She opened her eyes sleepily and jumped. In front of her nose was Laenas, beaming at her in the early morning sunlight, with Kiilj sitting on her piggy-back style and peering over her shoulder. Tsanra jumped and gave a muffled screech. "Don't do that!" she grumbled.
"Your presence is required at breakfast, Lady Tsanra," giggled Kiilj.
"Lady?" asked Laenas, incredulous, "If she's a lady then I'm a queen! And small children do not sit on queen's backs!"
"Yes, your majesty," Kiilj retorted, and jumped down onto the floor.
Tsanra went with her two friends, each now contesting to be the lost heir of some great dynasty, laughing all the way to breakfast. Each got her morning breakfast, and then sat down at unoccupied places at the long benches and tables where the orphans ate. They laughed at talked together, planning out another anticipated day at the woods, waiting until they could leave for the day. Tsanra's two best friends went off to get seconds, but Tsanra stayed at the table to finish her first serving.
She glanced up from her toast, and saw a flicker of movement in the side doorway that lead to the kitchen. She turned around, her eyes widening at what she saw.
A black, billowing, shadowy cloud stood in the doorway. It had glowing eyes like red hot embers fresh from the fire, and floated untouched by the breezes coming in and out of the kitchen, unlike any natural smoke cloud. It opened its mouth and leered at her, revealing several rows of fiery teeth. A kitchen boy walked straight through it, apparently quite unaware that it was there. Tsanra looked around, but no one else seemed to see it.
A shout rang out from the high table. Gandalf stood up and raised his staff. A bright, blistering beam of white light shot out from it and hit the creature directly in its midsection. An unearthly, banshee-like wail pierced the hall breakfast sounds of clinking silverware. It reached its crescendo and broke all the glass in the room. Then, the demonic shadow disappeared.
People in the hall had ducked under tables and chairs. Tsanra stood up, shaken, and looked around to be sure her friends were all right. Kiilj and Laenas had taken refuge under a giant pot used for soups in the afternoon and evening. There was a soft ping as a fork hit the floor. Then all hell broke loose.
Children began bawling, nurses screeching, teenagers running amok, and no one could seem to calm down. Gandalf jumped up on the table, ran over to Tsanra and shouted, "Come! Now!" He dragged her by the wrist out of the room to the stables, where he threw tack and saddle bags on the biggest, meanest horse in the barn, D'Korr, whose name meant Dark Thunder. The black horse snorted in protest and tried to buck the gear off, but Gandalf just scooped up Tsanra and threw her onto the horse's back, ignoring both her protests and D'Korr's. Gandalf whispered in the big horse's ear, gave him a good slap on the behind, and the horse took off at a gallop.
Tsanra nearly fell off. She was petrified. It was all she could do to hold on. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to fall into the rhythm of the huge beast's stride, and became a bit more comfortable. They rode until the sun was high in the sky, tearing up dust down the Great East Road, straight through Bree, and finally coming to a stop outside the town. D'Korr bucked Tsanra off his back and went over to a stream, took a long drink, and began to nibble at clumps of clover, for all the world a happy, untired horse. Tsanra went up to the horse and carefully removed his saddle and blanket, then took a look in the saddle bags.
There was food enough for a very long journey, as well as five bulging water flasks. A book of magic was tucked in, as well as three changes of clothes, all practical and well made for a physically demanding trip. There were a few other random utensils, like quill pens, ink, parchment, and pans. A sleeping pouch was neatly folded in the other saddle bag. As Tsanra was taking it out, she found a lantern, a map, and a compass in the bottom of the bag. She settled down, munching on traveling bread, and wondering what she could do.
Tomorrow she would head back. There was no way she was going anywhere. What did Gandalf expect her to do, find this strange dark child that was supposed to save the world? That seemed more like the fantasies of a crazy old coot than the wise words of the great White Wizard. Maybe the wizard had really lost it. Tsanra sighed, and curled up to sleep.
She woke up early that morning, very stiff from her long ride. She ate breakfast leisurely, but was surprised when D'Korr tried to nip her after a few minutes. She fed him some bread, but he continued to pester her until she finished breakfast, packed, and began to saddle him. He always left her alone when she worked, but as soon as she stopped, he would bear his teeth at her and lift a back hoof in a menacing way as though to say "Get on with it! We have places to go!"
Finally, at the fourth hour after dawn, she was ready to go. Tsanra gingerly mounted D'Korr, and turned him back towards Bree. She didn't get very far. As soon as they had left the field that they had spent the night on, the horse realized where she was telling him to go, and stopped dead in his tracks. She tried everything she knew to get him to go, and finally started hitting him with a makeshift crop to get him to go. He turned his huge neck and glared at her threateningly, and when she didn't stop, he shifted his weight just ever so slightly, dumping her off in a single, fluid movement. He then snorted in her face, spraying horse slobber all over her, and nipped at her until she got back on him.
Tsanra nearly screamed with impatience. "You stupid horse! I need to get home! I don't know what to do, and that damn wizard needs to get someone else to do his dirty work!"
The horse turned his head around to her again and rolled his eyes, then snorted. D'Korr kicked up his heels, and despite his rider's forceful protests, gathered up speed into a gallop and took off down the Old South Road towards the River Greyflood, Gondor, the Bay of Belfallas, the dead from the marshes, and a whole heap of trouble. Tsanra, or rather her horse, had just taken the first step into destiny.
Silwyth: Well, it's supposed to be sad (I think…), but sad like nostalgic not weepy, if you get my meaning. And don't be so sure that she's not ;-) . Remember, she said daughter, he said bloodline.
