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Fion looked up as he heard Athwen speak.
"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," he said. It was partly a lie; his forehead still ached, and he found himself getting dizzy if he turned or stood up too fast. But it was a great improvement from yesterday, and Leod had pronounced him fit to ride, and so Fion saw no reason to let anyone think otherwise.
Fion tightened the girth strap on his horse's saddle. Apparently, the mare felt absolutely no sympathy for Fion's injury and decided to act as contrary and spirited as she had on their first day of riding. This might be a problem.
"I think this nag will bring me more headache than this bruise will," Fion grunted, trying to secure his pack on the horse's back. She took a few taunting steps sideways. "Not that I'm not happy to have her back; I was almost certain she'd be halfway to Gondor by this morning, the way she takes fright and bolts. I'm glad Incana managed to find her." He looked up at Athwen again and grinned. "Otherwise, I'd end up being a Walker of Rohan instead of a Rider. I don't care as much for that particular title."
With Athwen holding the reins, Fion climbed up into the horse's saddle. For a horrifying moment, the world seemed to spin and dance around him, but then the moment passed. So far, so good, Fion thought to himself.
"Ha!" he said, grinning again at Athwen. "Another triumph for riders everywhere."
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