“Well it’s about time us hobbits got a ride. Not that we were tired but it did seem a little odd that the three smallest and shortest of legs had to walk when the elves and men got to ride,” said Peony good naturedly. She brushed a strand of curly blond-brown hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath, instantly regretting it. Just because there weren’t any rotting animal carcasses anymore, didn’t mean the stench was particularly gone. “Oh,” she continued, “and I’m not afraid of horses. I sat upon my first large horse in Bree. It was rather fun actually.” Peony shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable behind the she-elf she rode with.
She peered around Elenlith to see where Anson rode. It appeared that he had dozed a bit. His near-drowning incident earlier in the day had given her quite a start. We should have been more firm with him, and not aloud him to get on the raft by himself. Sighing, she tightened her grip as the horse stepped over a rock in the path. Elenlith handled her horse well, and the rest of the night’s ride was surprisingly comfortable for Peony.
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"They call this war a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say, 'Sh*t, it's raining!'" -- Ruby, Cold Mountain
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