[Amanaduial the archer]

As Aman moved around to the front of her horses to lead them into the stables, the large black one who she had been riding tossed his head a little and stamped his hooves a few times. Merrimac, despite all his keenness with horses, stepped back a little out of pure common sense. As the horse tossed it's head again, Aman, now standing in front, subconciously mirrored the action as she shushed him quietly, her hand coming up slowly to his nose. The horse narrowed beautiful, slanted eyes at her, regarding her, then nuzzled into her fingers affectionately. Beside it, the other horse, Rochfalmar, seemed to roll her eyes. Aman grinned at Merrimac excitedly, looking across at him as her hands moved across the side of the horse's oddly angular face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" She said delightedly. "Taydoch said the Haradrim breeders were coming, and told me they might even have been breeding with the Rohirrim steeds, I didn't believe it, of course, after all they'd been through together, the Haradrim aren't naturally forgiving-"

"Woah, woah..." Merrimac held up both hands against Aman's chattered onslaught. He flattened his palms slowly as if slowly pressing down an invisible briefcase in the air as he frowned at Aman comically. "Could...could you explain that one more time - tcha tcha tcha!" he cut her off as she opened her mouth again, and made that odd flattening motion again. "Slowly. Sensibly. And so someone who until a few years ago had never seen a horse bigger than the dumpy ten-hand ponies you see wandering the Shire with straw hats." He glanced nervously at the horse again and jerked his head towards it. "'Cos that is definitely no straw hat pony!"

Aman grinned again but calmed down, taking the reins of both the horses and starting towards the stables, her hands fiddling with the leather and often straying up fondly to one of the other of the horses' faces or manes. "Sorry, sorry, I'll try again. The last few days, I was at the horse market, on the Great East Road, you know?"

Merrimac gave a small, dry smile. "Aye, you just about mentioned it before you raced off to meet your fancy man there."

"'Fancy man'?!" Aman stared incredulously. "What, Taydoch? I've known him for years! He's not-" she stopped, and apparently considered some mental image. "Well, actually, I mean, when you say it like that, Taydoch wouldn't be at all bad, you know, he's a-"

Merrimac coughed politely.

"-but you don't want to know about that. A-anyway... the titbit that Taydoch used to really entice me - well, con me - into coming to the horse market was some information he had that some Haradrim breeders were coming. And don't look at me like that, master Merrimac, not all of the Southrons are complete savages. They're fine horsemen, when they put their minds to it - second, of course, to my people - and the creatures they produce..." Aman looked up lovingly at the huge sable horse. Merrimac eyed him warily. "You mean creatures like that thin- like him?"

"Ah, no, you see, that is where the genius comes in. Obviously the Rohirrim were there as well - a horse market wouldn't be complete without a few of us - and along with bringing the purebreeds from the Southrons and the Rohirrim...there was one breeder who brought a few cross-breeds. And that, dear Merrimac, is where my very lovely new steed comes in: one of the first in Middle Earth - whether there will be more, I don't know, but a fine beast this is, a fine beast!"

And a fine beast it was, even to the doubtful Merrimac: the horse must have been about eighteen hands, but was sleek rather than stocky, built for speed as well as strength, and would have been verging on gaunt was it not for the hints of the muscle depth that moved beneath beneath. His black fur shimmered as a muscle twitched in his shoulder, and the sable ripples that followed gave whole new tones to the colour black. His raven neck arched up elegantly in a fine curve and the head was held proudly, far more sharply boned and angular that the horses of the United Kingdom. From the sharp, angular face, the kohl rimmed eyes that looked down at you were rather slanted, black and narrowed as if against the wind or dry sand of Harad, just like the eyes of the horse's breeders. And what's more, they were intelligent: they seemed to be regarding Merrimac with a rather crafty sort of amusement.

The hobbit stared back, then raised a hand to the horse's nose, edging forward boldly although he felt anything but bold inside. The horse looked at him with those slanted, laughing eyes, then tossed his head against the stablehand's small fingers. Aman smiled. "By the West, Merrimac, I think he likes you."

Merrimac tried to look disapproving, but couldn't help a small, bashful smile, his dark cheeks reddening slightly. "Aye, well. Shall I settle them in?"

"Oh, Merrimac, you're brilliant. He won't be any trouble - why, 'Falmar and he are already getting on better, even if she seems to disapprove of such a wily colt," Aman grinned at the dappled grey mare companionably, as if they were two girls discussing a naughty but rather dashing boy.

The hobbit nodded and took the two pairs of reins, before stopping and turning back. "Oh, wait - 'he'? Have you not given the horse a name?"

"Nay given the horse- why, Merrimac, how can you suggest that!" Aman's mock outrage slipped and she nodded more soberly. "Aye, I called him after the friend I went to meet, my 'fancy man'." She rolled her eyes. "His name is Taydoch."

"Tie-dok?"

"No! Tay as in...well, think hay, but with a 'T'."

"Tay-dok?"

Aman winced at the hard ending the hobbit put on the name. "Try to soften it. Roll the 'ch' in the back of your throat, like...like..." she demonstrated, rolling the 'h'*. Merrimac tried. Aman made a face and demonstrated again. They went on for a few moments before realising how ridiculous they sounded and bursting out laughing. Aman shook her head and held up her hands, chuckling as she backed away to the Inn. "Fine, fine, have it your way, TaydoCK it is!"

Turning, she walked through the darkness into the comforting light of the Inn, where the smells of supper and the delighted call of Buttercup Brownlock greeted the Innkeeper back to the 'Dragon...

~*~*~

* the 'ch' at the end of Taydoch is said like a Hebrew/Yiddish 'ch', such as at the beginning of 'Channukah'.