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Léof nodded, not seeing a need to respond further to this. As they approached the stable and entered, Léof felt a sense of homecoming; stables everywhere were all pretty much the same: same scent of horses and hay, same sounds of horses shifting in their stalls. At home, their small stable had always seemed more like home to him than the house, and despite the obvious differences, this place felt familiar and comfortable. Whether because she felt the same way or because she could sense his emotions, Æthel nickered softly to him. That’s right, girl. We’ve found ourselves a home.
They started to pass a dark chestnut mare when Gárwine said, “And this is Herefola.” At this, Léof paused for a few moments to let the mare sniff his hand. He rubbed her muzzle while trying to get a look at her. He could not see well for the dim light of the stall, but she seemed to look quite similar to Æthel – even their white markings were in similar places. Pleased to have found something in common with his new friend, Æthel nudged him, reminding him who ought to be receiving his attention. “Herefola is a fine horse,” he said, before turning to his own horse. He unsaddled and unbridled her before finding a tack room a little ways down to put them in. The leather would need some care later, but for now he was more concerned about the horse.
He gave Æthel a quick but thorough brushing, for without proper equipment grooming was one of the things that had slipped in his journey here. Watching him, Gárwine asked, “Did you have many horses at home?”
Léof shook his head. “No, only a few: Æthel, here, who was primarily our riding horse, though I was the only one who really rode her, and three others, mostly used by my father to help with the farming. But for a long time, it’s mostly been my job to take care of them.” Some worry crossed Léof’s mind; he knew his father’s attention would not be as careful or caring as his had been, even if he did need them and could not easily afford another trained horse. “I hope they’re doing all right; my father wouldn’t mistreat them, but he’s not much of a horse person.” He owed more to those horses than to leave them; not only had they given him the work experience and an escape from the house, but there had also been times after his mother had died when his father had gotten so bad (sometimes drunk, as well) that those horses had kept him sane.
He brushed off the feelings; he could not do anything right now. He cleaned Æthel’s hooves – with a real metal pick, not just the makeshift tools he had been using – and was glad he had not ridden her earlier today: a piece of stone was still wedged up in her hoof. Satisfied that she would at least now be comfortable if not perfectly clean, he attended to her larder: fresh hay and a bucket of clean water that Gárwine was kind enough to get.
Now that he had a better idea of the stable, he had an idea of what needed to be done and thought it only fair to inform Gárwine. “I’d like to check on the other horses stabled here: how many of them there are, make sure they’re properly settled, you know. My saddle and bridle will have to be cleaned, and when Æthel’s done eating, I’d like to give her and any other horses that might need it a more thorough grooming – I do not know which of these horses have just arrived, or how well they were tended upon arrival. After that, I don't think anything will need to be done until the horses are fed and cared for tonight. It may take a while, and I’d perfectly understand if you had other things you needed to be doing…”
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