Menelduliniel shook herself out of her little stupor and ran over to the horse. It was funny: she felt more sympathy for wounded animals than Elves, Humans, Hobbits, Dwarves, anything of that nature.
She stroked the horse, and it immediately settled down. She reached down, and whispered to the horse not to be afraid. She gently grabbed the end of the arrow, and pulled it out VERY quickly. The horse gave a little jolt, but did not budge. She stroked it's neck and whispered that it was a good horse. She looked at the wound and gently touched around it: the arrow that pierced it had not been poisoned, thank the Valar.
She then went to her pack and got out a needle: the one she had used to sew her Warg-fur coat, and some black string. She stroked the horse gently, while cleaning the wound, and quickly and deftly sewed up the cut.
"If it would not have been walking on it, it would not have needed that," she explained, "But this should keep it closed from infection."
She took the bandage she had brought, and tied it securely around the horse's leg, but not so much as to cut off bloodflow.
"Now: you should be fine, melaramin (my love)," Meneli said soothingly to the horse.
"The horse should be fine now," she said simply to the others, then went over to her horse, Salkadome, and gave the horse a big hug around the neck.
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"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each others dreams, we can be together all the time." - Hobbes of Calvin and Hobbes
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