[Imladris]

Gorby

My pony stumbled over the rocky path that led into Fornost: the abandoned city steeped with shadow. I glanced at the elves: Eswen and Lira looked as if they would rather be a hundred miles away from it, and I couldn’t blame them. If I could feel so uncomfortable about it, what did they feel. I remembered hearing a stray word of speaking stones that only the elves could hear, and I wondered what they whispered in their ears, what grieves they described.

I shuddered and, leaning over to Anson, whispered, “Well, Anson…” my voice trailed off, and I frowned. Not a bird sang, not a cricket chirped, even our ponies’ hooves were dead upon the ground. It was as if a silent hand shushed our every move.

Straightening, I slumped into the saddle and huddled deeper into my cloak. I looked at Lumiel: her face was smooth of wrinkles, though her eyes flicked here and there like a hawk’s. I dug my heels into my pony and clucked to him. He lowered his head and slowed his walk. “No, faster,” I instructed kicking him. With a little snort, a shake of the head, he broke into a lumbering trot before he fell into a walk. Leaning forward, I whispered into his ear, “I don’t have any sugar to persuade you, but I want you to go to Lumiel. She’s an elf,” I nodded my head wisely and continued, “She always makes me feel better when she sits beside me.”

To my everlasting delight (I always knew ponies had sense), he trotted over to the elf. I noticed that his hooves actually lifted off the ground…they used to be dragging. As we neared Lumiel, she turned around and flashed me a smile.

Grinning back, I shrugged and slowly maneuvered my pony so that her mount and mine were head to head. I didn’t say anything but I looked at her: she seemed to have a glow, like the dying light of a firefly. I couldn’t imagine that she would want to know anything about our humble nature, but she seem sincere enough. With a small cough, I asked, “So do you play an instrument?”