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Old 07-23-2006, 10:35 PM   #108
Estelo dagnir, Melo ring
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Join Date: Oct 2002
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Durelin is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Durelin is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.

Knowing what felt as if it was going to be a long night would turn out much shorter than he would have liked in the morning, Vrór did his best to find rest. But there were too many things that did not sit right with him. He could not sleep when he was not sure what he would wake up to. This land did not seem to sleep – really, he could not help but feel that the night was when it was most awake and on the prowl. As if it could just swallow him up. It was a strange place indeed if he was afraid of every rock and pebble.

What would he find himself getting into tomorrow? They would be off, racing to the rescue in the direction that an old man determined from a bird and had perhaps double-checked with a squirrel, a butterfly, and…a horse? Horses…those were strange animals indeed. He had surely seen them on many an occasion, but never exactly…spent time with them. The fact that several of them were picketed close by, near enough so that he could hear the occasional snort and stamp from them.

Tomorrow he would be the only one without a mount. Already the Hobbit had kindly offered some kind of assistance, but the Dwarf was far too much of a gentleman around other gentleman such as Carl. And though a pony such as the Hobbit’s was much less intimidating than those tall horses the others road, Vrór could not imagine himself being caught on such a quaint little animal with an Elf, a couple from Rohan, and even a man from the South around to see him. He could imagine word spreading across Middle-earth about the Dwarf of the second Fellowship – the “Fellowship of the Fourth Age” as the letter had read – who was so ungainly on just a sweet, fat little pony.

So he found himself wondering if perhaps it was not too late to reconcile himself with this horse problem. A good night’s sleep would help if he would be running after a dust cloud at the tail end of the group, but that seemed more impossible to grasp even than the thought of him actually seeing what it felt like to sit on a horse. High in the air…the ground unreachable by his feet. What on earth would that feel like? Nothing on earth, in his opinion.

Making his way over to where the horses were tied, dragging his feet but trying hard not to shuffle them and make so much noise, Vrór stroked his beard, eyeing the night around him. At the moment, he was not sure if he was more afraid of the horses or the chance that someone might see him near the horses. Once close to the great animals, the Dwarf found his eyes glued to the large forms, black and shadowy in the darkness. It took him a moment to realize that there was another person nearby. He started, almost turning his head to examining closer who else found themselves drawn to these creatures, but finding himself too afraid of a horse taking advantage of such a distraction. The result was a tilt to Vrór’s head, leaving him looking more puzzled than anything else, if one could look puzzled in the dark.

Feeling the other presence draw closer to him, the Dwarf silently cursed, and was so on edge that he nearly jumped again when the person spoke. It was Rôg, the strange man from the South, seemingly a friend or even a servant to the even stranger old man from…well, who knew. Perhaps even Aiwendil himself didn’t. But was surprised him even more than everything that kept going bump in the night was the man’s offer. Ride with him? With him?

“Well,” Vrór found himself starting to speak before his mind was really prepared for him to. It was another moment before he spoke again in which the Dwarf swallowed and dragged his eyes away from the horses for a moment. “Thank you, Master…Rôg…” He steadied himself, and though he found his gaze drawn back to the tall animals a small distance before him, he forced himself to think clearly.

It was just like his blueprints. He was positioning himself on the horse where he would be balanced, held up even though he was strong and heavy and thus nearly unbreakable except by time itself… Surely if placed right he would be just a sturdy in structure… And with the right guidance… He glanced back at Rôg. Southern men knew all about horses, surely, even if not as much as those Rohirrim. All those tall folk seemed to spend a good amount of time off their feet, as if those long legs weren’t reliable enough.

“I would be honored to share your…steed,” he finally responded hesitantly. He knew he had heard the animal called such a name, but it just did not feel right on his lips. Nothing seemed right about these creatures, really. “And I would most appreciate your guidance. And so I am merely at your service, whether at the front or to the rear.” Either way it would not be a pleasant view.
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