[Sadbh]

There was a crisp tinge in the air as Sadbh found herself at the foot of the small inn. Her horse had an exhausted droop to its neck and a slow plod of a walk. She dismounted and unslung the wool pack off the back of her horse. Her russet sleeve snapped as she gently took the horse's reigns and led it to the stables which were fairly visible from the side of the inn. By simply touching it, she observed its weary nature and mumbled endearments to it in a speech long forgotten.


The inside of the stables was cool, yet one could feel the heat that radiated from the horses' bodies as you often could on a cool night. She found a vacant stall and walked in, leading her horse behind her. The straw was clean, but the water was stale. She removed a water-treated cloth water 'skin' from her bag. It had been hard to find one she could use, for she was loathe to touch leather.

From the opposite end of the stable she heard a low man's voice. It was an accent she clearly remembered from her travels. After she had removed the tack from her poor horse's body, she walked slowly to the other end of the stable.

"Excuse me, sir. I heard your accent and wondered if your were from Rohan." She smiled at the long, yellow plait that hung down his back and reveled silently in her accuracy.

"You were right." He smiled briefly.

"Would you look at my horse? He's been acting off as of late. He's listless and slim. I'm from Dale, so no horseman. Or woman." She added, smiling slightly.