Chapter Fourteen
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SUMMARY: It seems there is trouble on both sides of the Misty Mountains, today!
Elladan does his best to after Vildan and Melui, with help from his father, his brother and…some other friends.
Tauriel is on her way for a long overdue visit with Princess Vís and Queen Dílna, though her stallion is clearly not happy to be leaving his family. After a conversation with Bifur, she understands why. Thank goodness, Thangon is on duty!
And once again, I am greeted by another committee from Middle Earth.
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The metallic crash of pots startled me into full wakefulness in less than a second.
"GAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I screamed, clutching my chest. "What the fiddler's f—"
"Wakey Wakey!"
"Echuiad, echuiad!"
"WOOF! WOOF!"
"Screech! Kak-kak-kak-kak!"
"Where you did you get those pots you're banging?" I sat up, reached for a blood pressure pill, and held out my other hand.
"From your kitchen cupboards." Bard dutifully placed a cup of Adila's coffee in my hands.
"What's the problem this time?" I asked, downing the pill and taking a sip.
"Several things," the King of Dale replied. "And seriously, don't you think it's counterintuitive to take that pill with a cup full of caffeine?"
"It's fictional caffeine, so it doesn't count."
"How do you know?"
"Because," I said, stating the obvious, "I wrote it that way." I glance over at the small crowd by my bedside, and my eyes blinked.
"There's a raptor," I said. "In my bedroom."
"There certainly is," Elrond turned his eyes skyward. "Since you mentioned him in the last chapter, he's been impossible to deal with!"
"The falcon is demanding to be included in the cast," Elladan added. "He has gotten himself an agent and—"
"Hello," a short, pudgy man pushed through the group and wiggled his fingers at me. "I'm Marty, and I represent Lagrôval, here—"
"But his name isn't Lagrôval; it's Hôrtho."
"We've decided he needs a much more interesting stage name," Marty said, handing me a scroll. "We are demanding a two-year contract, his own trailer, a 30% increase in pay, plus a starring role in at least three chapters of SCOM. And we demand that the caterers provide fresh mice and rats for him on a daily basis. Live, so he can get his exercise by hunting them."
"Pay? What pay?" Bard demanded. "Who's getting paid here, because I sure as hell am not!"
Oh, crap. "No, that isn't—"
"What is a trailer?" Elrond asked.
"I don't have any—" I try to signal a Time-Out.
"What about me?" Vildan pushed himself forward in his wheelchair. "You broke my back, and I'm not going to see a copper of the net profits?"
I put my fingers in my mouth and let out a window-rattling whistle, which brings everyone a stop.
"There are no profits!" I yelled. "This is fan fiction; I don't make any money, I do it for the joy of the fandom!"
"Joy? Sorry, but it didn't exactly feel joyful when you killed my sister and brother-in-law!" Vildan pounded his fist on the arm of his wheelchair. "I had to leave my horse, my girlfriend…"
"She wasn't officially your girlfriend," Bard scowled, before turning to me. "He does have a point, though. My step-daughter's heart is broken," he added severely, making air quotes, "for the joy if it? Don't get me started on that time you nearly killed me by smashing my leg to smithereens!"
"Er…" Now seemed a good time to change the subject. "Who the hell is smoking!" I waved my hand, coughing.
"The falcon," Elrond's nose wrinkled in disgust.
"His name is Lagrôval," Marty corrected. "It stipulates in his contract that you refer to him by proper name, not his species. And, between scenes, no one is to make eye contact with him, so he can stay in character…"
"I'll agree to the name change, but that's it," I said. "And tell your client to put out that damned cigar before I kill him off, too."
"You can't," Marty stepped forward, finger outstretched. "Paragraph twelve, sub-heading A specifically states—"
I set down my coffee cup, and with a wicked glare, tear the document to pieces.
"Oh," the agent said, stepping back, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just, um…"
"Damned straight you'll 'just, um…,'" I growl. "Why is Thangon here?" I ask Bard.
"He heard about the bird in Rivendell," the King of Dale shook his head, "and wanted a bigger part, too."
"Okay," I agreed. "He'll be in this next chapter."
"I really appreciate it," he sagged in relief. "This month alone, we've had to clean up three revenge-poops the size of a cow pie. Greta says the staff is threatening to quit."
"Now, wait just a minute," Marty emerged again. "Why does this beast gets anything he wants, but you won't even consider—"
He was interrupted when Thangon's hackles rose with a low, menacing growl, baring his teeth.
"That's why." Bard said, proudly.
I purse my lips to the side, and studied Lagrôval, who was using his wings to surreptitiously flap the cigar smoke out of the room. "Tell you what; I'll give the raptor a bigger part on three conditions."
"Which are?" Marty asked.
"No contract. No money. And," I raise my finger, "if he even thinks about lighting up one of those tobacco-turds again, Lagrôval will be out his ear. Do you understand?"
"Fair enough," Marty shrugged, and turned to his client. "Sorry, buddy; it was the best I could do."
Bard leaned down and whispered, "Where are his ears, exactly?"
And that's when I woke up…
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"This love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet."
-Romeo and Juliet, (Act 1, Scene 1)
Rivendell, 5th of March 2946 T.A.
"Are you certain, Ada?"
Elrond's outward calm was betrayed by the worry in his eyes. "I have never seen a back injury this severe. His eye socket is fractured, as is his right leg, and he is badly bruised, but those are easily dealt with; it is a miracle there is so little damage to his organs."
Elladan glanced over at his friend. Vildan was weeping with relief, still stroking Melui's head and speaking softly to her. His horse, Hûrthenon stood guard over them both, his nose gently nudging his master and nibbling at the child's blanket as if to make sure she was covered up properly. "He does not appear to be in a great deal of pain," he observed.
"He will be, and soon. Once the joy of seeing Melui wears off, his body will acknowledge the damage."
"It will be excruciating," he whispered.
"Yes. The muscles in his back have either sprained or torn, and are starting to swell. The phantom pains of his lower limbs will be the worst, though I am not certain if that is something I can help, besides keeping him drugged with poppy juice or asleep altogether."
"You have never seen this before?" Elladan asked, incredulous.
"I have, but only in those who did not survive."
He winced. "Can you help him?"
"I do not know, Ion nîn." His Adar rubbed his eyes. "Muscles we can heal, and I will need to operate to put his bones back into place. But the spinal cord is unlike any other tissue in the body; even if we grow it back together, the nerves will probably not reconnect."
"He does not yet realize what has happened to him."
"No. And we cannot tell him now; he is too weak from shock and blood loss."
It took a minute for Elladan to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Naenanest hûn nîn."
"As does mine," Elrond gripped his shoulder and squeezed. "He will need you to be strong for him. More so than ever before."
"I know." He cleared his throat. "We cannot take him on horseback. I will send for a wagon."
"I have done so," Adar said. "I want him kept as still as possible, though I doubt there is anything we could do that would make things worse. Go to him, while we fashion a splint for him. I do not want him or the child to be upset or frightened, so say whatever you have to keep them calm while you put him to sleep."
They were all too busy to notice the sun trying to peek out from the clouds, but when a shadow passed overhead, followed by a kack-kack-kack-kack, father and son glanced heavenward. A large bird swooped low and landed on a branch in the tree nearest Vildan and Melui. He ruffled his wings and feathers back into place, and tilting his head to look down at Vildan and Melui.
"Is that not Meássë's falcon?" Elladan's eyes rounded. "What is he doing here?"
Indeed, it was Lagrôval, the fastest of all the falcons on Middle Earth, highly prized by the Lord of Imladris and of his former handler, who now resides in the Halls of Mandos.
Elrond pointed to the ragged edge of the leather thong on his right leg. "Apparently, he escaped."
Elladan stared in fascination, as the bird marched worriedly back and forth along the branch, never taking an eye of the pair on the ground. What was he doing here? Why?
That was another mystery to be solved, but not now. He shook his head to clear his mind, took a deep breath for courage, and went over to where his friend lay on Elrohir's cloak. Someone else had folded their own and placed it under Vildan's head.
"What did your Ada want?" Vildan asked, running his fingers through Melui's wet hair. His breath caught, stifling the moan that wanted to escape.
"I saw that," he quirked an eyebrow. "You're in pain; do not deny it. I have orders to put you to sleep, so we can prepare for your journey home."
"I can—" he raised his head and shoulders, still holding Melui.
"No!" Elladan quickly pushed him back down. "My Adar gave firm orders. Must I remind you of the foulness of the Dead Marshes? If I have to go, I will drag you there with me."
Melui lifted her head and opened bleary eyes.
Elladan rubbed the child's back. "Sweetness, how do you feel?"
"I am sore. All over."
"I do not doubt it. Are you still cold?"
"No."
"We will see what we can do about that," he leaned down with a conspiratorial wink. "I need your help with something very important."
"What?" she sat up and fisted her hands and rubbed her eyes.
"Lord Elrond wants to take your Uncle back in a wagon, and I need you to help me think of ways to help him, so he will not be afraid."
She considered this. "I could hold his hand."
"That is an excellent idea," Elladan smiled. "Tôrano is very, very tired, and that is not good. What do you think he should do?"
"He should take a nap."
"You are very smart. Can you take his hand and hold it while I help him go to sleep?"
She nodded, full of self-importance, and she reached for Vildan's hand. "Stay still, Vida," she ordered. "El'dan will help you."
He exchanged amused glances with Vildan, but kept his face serious. "Are we ready?"
"Yes." Melui nodded.
Vildan closed his eyes as Elladan placed is hand on his friend's forehead and recited the spell. Once he was unconscious, he thanked the child very seriously.
"You were a big help. Now, I have another favor to ask."
"What?"
"They need to do some things to help Uncle so he can travel safely, and that means you and I must get of their way."
Her face fell, and her eyes—thank Queen Varda they were no longer dull and grey, but blue as Morning Glories—filled with tears. "I need to be with him," she said, her voice high and thin.
"We will not go far, and as soon as they are done, you can go right back. But while we wait, you can help me with something else, yes?"
"What?"
"Someone else has come, and I think he wants to see you."
Melui's eyes blinked a few times, and held up to arms. Elladan scooped her up, adjusting Elrond's cloak to keep her warm, and balanced her on his hip as he walked toward the tree where the falcon still paced.
"Nana's bird!" she squealed. "Why did he come?"
"I think," Elladan smiled down at her and stroked her head, "he will not want to be a messenger for Lord Elrond anymore."
The child regarded the large falcon for several minutes. "Why?"
"Well, maybe your Nana wants Lagrôval to help look after you, now."
"I miss her and Ada." she said in the disarmingly simple way of most small children.
"I know, and I am sorry," he held her to him. "I do not know how much you remember—"
"I dreamed it. Then Tôrano Vida came."
"That is right," he said. "What else do you remember?"
"Laniër took care of me, and she cried a lot in her room. You came every day."
"I wanted to help you get better,"
Her chin bobbed up and down. "But the mean Elleth hated me and would not let me do anything!" Her tiny, perfect face crumpled, and she started to cry.
Elladan did nothing to discourage these tears; they were long, long overdue, and a necessary part of her own healing after such atrocities. He held her against him, rested his cheek against her head and swayed back and forth, murmuring words of comfort.
To their left, Hûrthenon whinnied at him, as Elrond and Elrohir fashioned a splint made of sticks and cloth to keep his body still.
Above them, Lagrôval glared, and flapped his enormous wings in warning. Elladan hoped he didn't misunderstand, lest he lose one of his pointed ears (of which he was rather proud), or rip out a chunk of his hair, (which he liked just as much).
"Samestë, sermonya," he said in Quenya, "an lá ilyë níreli nar úmiéo." 1
This seems to mollify the great bird. He collected himself and returned to his dignified posture, still keeping a close, suspicious eye.
Melui's sobs reached Elrond's ears, and he looked up, his brows furrowed in concern.
"She misses her parents," Elladan mouthed to him.
After a long moment, his Adar gave a small nod, and got back to work.
While the sorrow in Melui's fëa was finally allowed to be expressed, Elladan mentally made a list of answers they all needed in order to untangle this entire ordeal. Melui's dreams were an unexpected revelation, which certainly explains why Lusiël felt the need to silence her. But how could a child so small be aware of such things in the first place?
How was Lusiël able to do such things? Was born with such dark power, and if not, how did she come by it? And why did not even his father detect such a malevolent presence in Imladris?
Elladan patted and rubbed Melui's back in small circles, hoping she could not sense his growing alarm, as a terrible possibility emerged in his thoughts.
He rested his hand on the back of Melui's head. "Hênig," he said, "can I take you to see my friend Eílíent again? I need to speak to my brother and my father."
"Can I not go with you?" she hiccupped and held him tighter.
"Shhh…." he smiled and went to the Elleth and handed her over.
"Is she in pain?" Eílíent asked in Westron.
"Her heart, mostly," Elladan answered likewise. "Give her what comfort you can." He jerked his head toward the tree. "And make sure you stay in sight of the falcon."
"Of course," she cuddled the Elfling. "Why?"
"I am not entirely sure, but I think it best for now."
"Yes, My Lord."
He walked over to the now trussed-up patient, and whispered. "Ada, I would speak to you and my brother in secret."
"Not just yet," Elrond rose to stand and nodded to the road. "The wagon comes. Help me get Vildan ready to move."
It took nearly twenty minutes before the preparations for their return were completed. Vildan's blanket was fastened to the wagon to form a sling, to minimize the impact on his broken body. Eílíent helped Melui settle beside him, and stayed with her, awaiting further orders. The child tried to be brave, but was still teary-eyed, but when Lagrôval took off from the tree and perched on the side of the wagon near her, she seemed to feel a bit better.
Hûrthenon would not tolerate being tied to the back; rather, he stubbornly took his place alongside the wagon, his velvety dark eyes fastened on the Elf he had been chosen to serve and protect. 2
"Now, what is it that is so urgent?" Elrond turned to him, eyes impatient. "We need to get them back right away!"
"Yes," Elladan said, "but my brother and I must stay."
"I have already dispatched the others to go in search for Lusiël's body—"
"No!" Elladan hissed sharply, grabbing his father's arm. "Call them back!"
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City of Dale, 5th of March 2946 T.A.; Hope Field
"Easy," Tauriel patted Lasbelin's neck. "you will be back with your family tomorrow." The stallion had been a handful this entire ride, and she had to keep a sharp eye on him.
The sun was shining, and the milder temperatures was especially welcome after a harsh winter. This warm spell was a short respite, before the frosts and the true rains of spring came to their area. The people of Dale were taking advantage of break from the cold to open their shutters and enjoy the sun. At the Castle, Greta and the staff rushed through the rooms to let out the stale air of winter and bring in the fresh. Everyone there bounced with a renewed energy with smiles on their faces.
After receiving a summons from Queen Dilna, a week ago, Tauriel had made arrangements for an overnight stay during her next days off. After kissing her Ada and Tilda, she mounted Lasbelin and rode through the North Gate.
The Lonely Mountain was part of the Dale landscape to the North, but only when one rode past Hope Field and over the ridge did the magnificent entrance of Erebor come into view. As her friendship with the Dwarves of Erebor grew, so did her knowledge of their history and folk tales. To the left of the door stood a statue of Durin, poised and ready to strike at the heart of any enemy of their people. Thror stood proudly at the right, the founder of Erebor, and though his beard and his axe had been badly damaged from the dragon Smaug, she was happy to see that he was now whole again.
The sharp, angular lines of Dwarven architecture might not appeal to Elves, who much preferred smooth flowing lines and motifs that reflected their love for flora and fauna, but none could help but admire the craftsmanship, the attention to detail, and the artistry that these people were famous for. Tauriel had always liked it, and when Lord Elrond came to visit two years ago, he was amazed by the sheer beauty of Erebor. More than any diplomatic speech, or flowery promises made of good relations, the unabashed admiration by the Lord of Imladris, was what convinced the King Under the Mountain that this famous Elf was of a high quality.
Tauriel's eye was drawn to the small window on the top left with a smile. When King Daín and Queen Dilna had awarded Tauriel with her own apartment in the Mountain, they kindly made sure it had a window facing Dale, along with a private balcony. Her rooms suited her; small, but light and airy, and she had even placed window boxes outside where colorful flowers bloomed in the spring and summer. Last autumn, she covered the boxes with burlap sacks to help the bulbs enjoy their winter sleep. Today there was some rich soil in her saddle bags that Legolas had brought her from the Woodland Realm, along with some seeds to start some colorful annuals. There was also a book Ada had found in his library she might enjoy.
"Good morn, Lady Tauriel," Bofur took off his hat and bowed low as she trotted across the bridge and came to a stop in front of him and the two Dwarven guards, resplendent in their brass armor. "How was your trip?" he asked with a wink.
"Long and arduous," she laughed at the standing joke between them. "I am looking forward to some peace and quiet."
"Well, if that is what you wish, you have come to the right place," Bofur smirked. "We are known for our quiet manners and soothing words, My Lady. Queen Dílna and Princess Vís have been looking forward to your visit."
"As have I." Tauriel dismounted, and made to lead Lasbelin toward the stables, but Bofur reached for them. "Allow me; Lasbelin and I are old friends."
"That may be so, but ever since he became a father, he is loath to be separated from his mate and filly. He may just decide to return to Dale and drag you along the side." As if on command, Lasbelin stomped his feet angrily and turned completely around to face Dale.
"Ah." Bofur stepped back with his hands up. "He is protective?"
"Oh, yes. Mistanâr pretends to be annoyed, but secretly I think she is glad he is there."
Bofur stroked the stallion's nose thoughtfully. "How is the filly?"
"Healthy, beautiful, and growing like a weed. You should go see her on your next visit. The Horse Master told me this morning that he plans to put them out to pasture at the end of this week. They both tire of being cooped up."
"I'm sure they are." Bofur stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I hear she has the bearing of her ancestors, Tauriel. I have to wonder if that is a good thing."
Lasbelin tossed his head and tried to turn around again.
"Easy!" the Elf grabbed his reins and pulled him down. "I understand that Dwarves are not overly concerned with Elven history, but surely even you—"
"You misunderstand me, bâheluh." He put his hand over hers. "I have seen Vildan's mare, and she is remarkable even to my untrained eye."
"She is," Tauriel let out a relieved laugh. "For a moment I thought you were trying to frighten me!"
"Not frighten you, but perhaps to warn you. This filly is the purest white, with black eyes and nose? And when the sun hits her just right, she 'shimmers?'"
"Well, yes," Tauriel said softly. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "That is no secret."
"Not to us, perhaps, and you have nothing to fear from our folk. But you should know that word has spread." He leaned closer. "There has been talk in other lands that this foal is a Ghîvashel."
"I do not know what that means," Tauriel's voice was wary.
"It means, in our language, that she is a 'jewel among jewels." The Dwarf shook his head ruefully. "Gloin and some of our blacksmiths went to Dorwinian to trade in metal goods and work on some custom orders for Lord Brandir and his folk. He returned yesterday and mentioned rumors about a mysterious horse in King of Dale's pastures. He didn't think anything of it, but I worry that if word has spread that far, it also means that… What is her name?"
"Trastapîn," Tauriel answered, as tentacles of worry wormed their way through her stomach. "Are you sure?"
"I am," Bofur nodded. "You know what I am saying, I think."
"I do." The trepidation in Tauriel's breast grew to a full-blown panic attack. And with it came a deep shame.
Vildan entrusted her with them, and until that moment, she had thought it a sentimental gesture, a comfort in the face of doomed love. Only now did it struck home that Vildan had not just trusted her to not only care for them, but he trusted her as a warrior to protect their lives. He knew Mistanâr was valuable, but he couldn't have anticipated the splendor of the foal she was carrying.
And she had been so busy feeling sorry for herself, she didn't take that seriously. She had been keeping herself too busy trying not to think about Vildan at all.
Ai, gorgor…
"Please; tell the Queen that I am sorry, but I need to go back to Dale." Tauriel took the reins from Bofur. "I do not wish you to get in trouble, but…"
"Oh, I'll be in a great deal of trouble, but hopefully once I explain, she'll calm down. Either that, or I'll be spending the next month cleaning chamber pots."
"You are a true friend, Bofur, "she said mounted Lasbelin.
"Well, I certainly hope so!" he grinned, before his face grew serious. "I know how much that Elf meant to you, Bâheluh. I also know how much it would kill you to think you let him down. Go!" He smacked the horse's rump and sent them on their way.
The stallion needed no encouragement and took off like the wind.
She should have listened to him.
From the moment she entered the Royal Stables that afternoon, Lasbelin's ears had been laid back in displeasure. She coaxed, wheedled, then grew stern when he fidgeted and clamped his mouth tight against the bit she was trying to put into his mouth. The stallion was a spirited handful on his best days, but this was the worst he'd ever behaved. He'd even gone so far as to nip at her.
And instead of seeing the stallion's behavior for what it was, Tauriel had dug in her heels and forced him to behave.
Mistanâr was no help. Her displeasure filled the ears of everyone in the large building, and even Trastapîn, threw herself into the spirit of things and added her voice.
She should have paid closer attention. She should have listened.
"I am a fool," Tauriel repeated to herself, as she urged Lasbelin to go faster. "An utter fool!"
Thranduil was in the conference room with Percy, Bard, and Galion, going over some rough designs for New Esgaroth, of which the building would begin in earnest as soon as the ground settled from winter. He was pointing to the plans for the town hall when Thangon's head jerked up with a low growl. Everyone glanced over at the dog, whose muzzle had only just sprouted grey hairs this past winter.
"Calm down, boy." Bard said absently. "I'll take you out for a walk in a bit."
"It's a nice day," Percy observed. "He's probably got cabin fever."
Thranduil straightened and studied the big dog. "Nay; he knows something."
By now the dog was on his feet, headed and scratching frantically at the door.
"Easy there!" Bard grabbed his collar and yanked him back. "You'll damage the varnish!"
Thranduil barely had the door opened when Thangon pushed through and raced down the wide hall. Barking and howling in earnest.
"Go get mine and Lord Bard's swords!" he called to the nearest guard. To the others he commanded. "Follow that dog!"
Outwardly, the spectacle of Elves in armor chasing Thangon through the streets of Dale would have been funny, and many who stepped out of their way laughed about it, thinking Thangon had stolen something he shouldn't. To the Elvenking, his guards and to the Men of Dale trailing far behind, the giant Elven dog sensed trouble, which only served to validate his own unease after Tauriel left for Erebor not two hours ago. Her horse was clearly making the trip under protest, but the furious swish of his tail made something niggle in the back of his neck, though for the life of him, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
In the distance bells of the North Gate chimed three times; someone was given leave to enter the City.
"Who's here?" Bard asked.
"I do not know," the Elvenking said, grabbing his husband's wrist to pull him along faster, but now I know I was not imagining things!"
Thangon headed toward the Western Wall, where the Royal Stables were kept, his muscles bunching as he ran. He leaped over the half-door and scrambled to get his footing on the wooden floor of the barns, with the Elves close behind.
It was utter pandemonium. Almost all of the stable's occupants were neighing and rearing and kicking, their combined cries were painful to Thranduil's ears.
Thangon raced to the far right, and skidded to a stop in front of Mistanâr's box stall, where the door was opened slightly.
"My Lords!" Lt. Legron ran up to them. "The Stablemaster has been killed!"
"Where are the guards?" Thranduil demanded angrily.
"I do not know—"
But Ivran yelled from the far corner. "My Lord! Amrol and Haden have been shot!"
"What the bloody fuck is going on here!" Bard roared, as he finally caught up with Thangon. "Oh, shit… Thranduil, you'd better get over here."
The Elvenking gave quick orders to see to his wounded guards and ran to the last box stall on the right.
Mistanâr was straining against her halter which had been chained to one of the bars in the door.
And the filly was gone.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Ai, gorgor… Oh, crap. Oh, shit. Oh, no.
Bâheluh – (Khûzdul) my close friend
Echuiad, echuiad! – Awake, Awake!
Ghîvashel – (Khûzdul) Jewel of Jewels
Naenanest hûn nîn – My heart weeps for him.
Naneth a adar naenan – Crying for mother and father
Samestë, sermonya [-] an lá ilyë níreli nar úmiéo – (Q.) Be at peace, my friend, [-] for not all tears are an evil. (lit. "have peace, my friend) (for not all tears are evil-of).
WOOF! WOOF! – Get up! Get up!
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NOTES:
1 The Sindarin and Quenyan phrases come from three different websites: /phrasebooks/sindarin/doriath/
gwaith/epitaph_
2 Broken Wings, Ch. 38: "Thranduil had sent a message, ordering that he be given the best in his private stables. Falarion, who ran the Royal Stables picked out a spirited chestnut stallion named Hûrthenin, who, as his name suggested was fierce but loyal.
"He will take special care of you, Mellon nîn," Falarion told the Lieutenant, when he presented the tall horse to Vildan. "I put him in the box stall next to your mare, and she made sure he understands your sorrow."
/works/20519588/chapters/60050749
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