Four years later.
Léofe clicked her tongue, loosening her hold on the rope secured to Brego's halter. At her command, he began trotting. She watched his legs carefully. His back left leg did not rise as high as the others. Hmm. "Brego, come!" He did not cease his trotting as he approached, and she had to laugh. This one loved to show himself off, and so it left her further perplexed that his leg was faltering during a simple trot. Brego was obviously unconcerned, and he blew hot breath into her face before trying to taste her hair. "Stop!" she said, placing a hand firmly on his muzzle. He snorted, but did as she bid. "Good boy!" She tickled his chin whiskers, giggling and cooing at him. "Who is my favorite boy? Who is my favorite friend? Yes, it's you! It's you, Brego!"
The gate to the paddock opened with a creak. Knowing it could only be her father, she called, "About time you came, Papa! I was just going to fetch you to see Brego's paces. He is outperforming geldings twice his age!"
"That is good news, goosey," his voice answered, and in confusion, she noticed that his normal enthusiastic manners were tempered somewhat. She turned, and saw to her astonishment a richly armored man towering over her father, contrasting Gerdhelm's worn out wool clothing and crooked posture. Oh no. And as if to punctuate the pain that he was unknowingly bringing, his eyes were travelling over Brego with marked interest and a measure of sophisticated arrogance, as if the stallion was already his.
"Léofe, come here, child," Gerdhelm held out a hand towards her, and her stomach sank. She knew why a nobleman would be here. Perhaps he was even a marshal. She tied Brego's rope to a picket, and approached the men with no small amount of trepidation.
"I am Théodred, Mistress Léofe," he said, and as she looked critically in his face, wishing to find fault, she found his features familiar somehow. But when could she have met the king's son? The prince! The prince was standing in her muddy corral!
"You humble our home by visiting," she said, sweeping into a curtsey that she felt would rival any high-born lady. He had a crooked half-smile, and the force of it hit her rather hard.
"I have come here today, Mistress Léofe, in search of a new mount. My Firebreath recently got on the wrong end of an orc mace. My eored happened to be passing on patrol and I remembered the fame of the horses from your father's farm."
"Firebreath?" she asked in surprise. "Was his dam Sunshadow?"
Now he seemed to be hiding laughter, though she did not know why. "Indeed, mistress. I was unaware you had interest in horse lines."
"I do not choose the breeding myself, of course," Léofe said. "But I will when I inherit my father's farm. Pray do not look so shocked, Papa!" A choking noise had escaped her father, and the prince had compressed his lips together, though he did not seem displeased at her comment. "Anyway, my mother trained Firebreath herself, he should have known better than to let himself get cut." Feeling bold, knowing that this man, despite being her prince, was her adversary, she lifted her chin high.
"He escaped worse odds," the prince said, his voice becoming somewhat solemn. "But he was getting old, nigh on twenty-two years. He was given to me when I was but nineteen, many years ago now."
Léofe's gaze dropped as her cheeks burned. Of course Firebreath would have been old! Horses did not last forever, even her mother's, which had been famed across the Mark as the highest standard.
"Prince Théodred requested that you assist him in choosing a stallion," Gerdhelm cut in.
"He - he did?"
"And I am on a rather tight schedule, if it is all the same to you, mistress. I would prefer to have my new mount bought by sundown."
"Will you take supper with us, sire?" her father asked.
"I would be honored. One does tire of patrol rations, and it is good luck to end business with refreshment." At the prince's aquascience, Gerdhelm lumbered back towards the house.
"Come with me." Léofe's words were clipped, and with a frosty stare she directed him towards the stables. Rather than walking in front of her, as she had expected, he instead matched her pace. "We have none experienced in battle," she said as they entered the musty building, blinking to adjust to the dimmer light. "You might find an inexperienced mount difficult to ride, sire."
"I have a remount that I am currently riding. I intend to continue to ride him until my new mount is fully trained."
"I see." The stallions were housed towards the end of the stables, where the stalls had been built considerably wider. "This is Dark Shadow," she said, snapping her fingers at a black stallion, who immediately stuck his nose out to investigate. "He is our largest, but he becomes slow if he runs too long."
"What are his bloodlines?"
The show-and-tell went similarly for all nine of the stallions. Léofe explained their virtues and vices, as well as their lines, and the prince entered each stall to examine them more closely. Finally, after having looked especially close at the last, a bay with an ego, the prince left the stall with a frown forming on his brow. "Have you chosen?" Léofe asked.
The prince tipped forward on his feet, breathing deeply and staring into the distance, as if deep in thought. "Do you have any stallions of a younger age?" he asked.
Dread filled her stomach in a pool of iron. She had known, as soon as she had seen the prince staring at Brego, exactly which horse he intended to buy. Showing him the other stallions had been an attempt on her part to dissuade him. She did not want to give up her lovely Brego! "I am sure you saw Brego as you entered," she said, forcing politeness into every word. "He is the youngest, and not fully trained."
"May I see him?"
"I do not recommend your purchase of him," she said quickly. "He needs more time with me."
"I ask again. May I see him?"
She was unable to hide a scowl, which seemed to amuse the prince though he did not comment as she led him back into the corral. Against her will, she found herself watching from afar as the prince and Brego began their bonding. It was obvious they were intended for each other. Brego had only shown such affection to one other - Léofe herself. The prince was unused to Brego's tactics, however, and she smirked to herself as a large chunk of his hair disappeared between the horse's lips.
"Blast it!" the prince cried, and he swatted Brego's nose.
"I wish you luck in training that out of him," Léofe commented, stepping forward to rub Brego's neck. "I have been trying ever since he could reach my hair."
"I do not blame him for trying to nab your scalp," the prince said, with a half-smile, though he did not meet her eyes. "Your hair is such a lovely color."
What an odd comment! Léofe frowned. "He's a stubborn git, but he has a wonderful heart."
"And his vices? You did not hesitate to tell me of the faults of the other stallions."
She sighed, leaning a cheek against Brego's warm fur and closing her eyes briefly. "His only weakness is that I love him too much."
For the first time, a look of discomfort passed on the prince's face. "I am sorry, Léofe, that I am taking him away. I hate to cause anyone pain. If it is any consolation, I cannot take him for a year yet. I intend to return every few months to do some training myself."
You have already caused my pain! she thought. But out loud she said, "Swear to care for him, and I will be content." It did not occur to her that she was not really in a position to give orders to a prince. But he seemed to take it in good humor, and bowed to her slightly.
"I swear it shall be done."
"Very good."
"And further -" He suddenly reached a hand into his tunic, and pulled out a small bag that jingled. "For your expense and investment in raising him, I feel it fitting to compensate you. Perhaps it will take away some of the sting."
He placed the pouch in her hand, which she weighed briefly. There had to be twenty gold crowns at least! "This is ridiculous, sire," she said, trying to give it back to him. "You do not need to pay."
"I wish to be fair."
Léofe gritted her teeth. "We do not need your charity!" The prince frowned slightly at her words, and she stammered as she realized her rudeness. "That is, we will be well set once the traders come through. It is against Rohirric law to charge a member of the king's family for a steed, and I do not wish to stand trial in front of your father."
He reached out and closed his fist over hers, encasing the bag within her grip. Even though he wore gloves, she found herself reeling at the sensation of being touched. Since her mother died, she had only been touched by horses through nudges and an occasional kick. Gerdhelm had certainly never been one for fatherly embraces. "I would testify on your behalf should such a tragedy occur," he said. "Please."
"Fine," she snapped. "He is yours now! Take him now or next year, whichever you prefer. I will continue training him until then. But our business today is concluded. I am sure your eored will be missing your royal presence!"
The prince regarded her solemnly. "Pray remember, I was invited to dine with your father tonight. If you insist, I shall of course return to my eored, but I would rather prefer something other than patrol rations."
Her annoyance rising to untold levels, Léofe grumbled to herself as she led the prince to where she and her father lived. The house had been built very close to the stables, for birthing season they might need to rush out two, three times each night. She directed him towards the well for a wash, and she entered the kitchen with a bang!
"Quickly, lass, put these on the table!" Gerdhelm had scraped together their best produce and preserves for a respectable table. Fortunately the prince had been living off worse, and he praised the meal profusely as they ate. Léofe felt no need to contribute to the conversation, instead simmering with resentment towards the man across from her while she pushed the pickled green beans back and forth on her plate. Her appetite was gone, and tears pricked her eyes. She did not want Brego taken away, now or later!
"There is an adage among the riders in Aldburg," the prince said suddenly, his gaze drawn to Léofe. "That a stallion born at night is the best to ride into battle. Is this true, mistress?"
"I cannot know," she said, straightening her back. "My experience is with horses untrained in battle. Any way -" A thought struck her, and she stared at the prince. "Why do you bring this topic to the table, sire?"
Gerdhelm nearly choked at her rudeness, but the prince only looked disconcerted. "I - your father mentioned it - I think?" he said, looking to Gerdhelm for help.
"He could not have," Léofe said. "He was in Edoras to purchase new mares during the birth, and I was left alone. Except -" Oh, what a fool she had been! Of course the prince looked familiar. Brego's birth had been difficult, even with her experience, and it would be difficult to forget a happenstance friend's help. "It was you," she said, staring at him. "You were the stranger that night!"
"Well, yes." Now he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"I see."
Silence ensued for several long moments, and abruptly Gerdhelm inquired the prince about the king's health. A jar of preserved peaches was brought to the table for a sweet treat, and as soon as her father stood to end the meal, Léofe dashed for the door.
Her nightly routine of taking each horse for a quick exercise was normally her favorite part of the day, as she did enjoy the sunsets, but the prince's visit still disturbed her. Brego was no longer hers. Everytime she would reach to pet him, she would see the prince's face in her mind, and remember. His face on that starlit night, which she had dreamt about afterwards. A handsome man was dangerous, a prince was perhaps more so, but man that was both? She was in danger of forgiving him for both his lie and his theft.
"Oi, Moonlight! Check your paces!" she shouted at the grey blush mare, tugging on the lead rein gently. This horse was easily distracted, and it showed. The mare turned to her and snorted, as if to say, I exercise all the time. It's not every day I see a butterfly! Have a heart!
Footsteps suddenly sounded behind her, and Léofe turned and saw the prince approaching, leading a saddled gelding, which must have been his remount. Instead of standing a respectable distance away, he had come right up to her. She had to look up to see his eyes, which seemed regretful. And quite a beautiful shade of brown! Léofe shook herself and the prince spoke. "I cannot say that I am at ease for purchasing Brego, but I felt a bond with him from the night that he was born. I feel that he is destined to be mine."
"And I cannot argue that point," she said. "For I know it as well. I can see it."
A half-smile formed on his face, and despite having spent the afternoon in his company, Léofe still found it staggering. "Though I bow to your obvious experience with him. I look forward to hearing your advice in training. You might even consider him still half-yours, with your influence and care."
Half-hers. Never before could she have claimed to own any part of a horse, as her father often reminded her. She was simply their caretaker. Knowing that Brego could still be a part of her and she a part of him made her heart swell with warmth, and she smiled. "I would be happy to share, sire."
He pressed his lips to her knuckles, a sensation entirely alien to her and completely pleasurable, and she could only stare as the prince mounted the gelding (a very fine figure he had), and rode away until he disappeared in the spring's tall, lush grasses.
Hullo! Just wanted to say Hi and I hope you're enjoying thus far. Do let me know what you think - I would much appreciate a review or message. Oh, and before you rail me about how unlikable Leofe is, I already know. She's ridiculous to write and makes me a bit crazy. But let me assure you this as well - she is going to enjoy lots of miseries and turn out all the better for them :)