[piosenniel]

The night had proved a short one; sleep nearly impossible. Rôg rose before the sun was truly up and gathered together what few things were left to pack away. Aiwendil had taken the offer of waybread and fruit to break his fast; which left only the his bedroll to be rolled up and secured to his mount.

A short walk brought Rôg to where the horses were tethered. The dun mare was looking decidedly more rested than he and seemed in a good…no, make that, fair mood. Rôg piled his pack and bedroll on the ground and approached her.

‘I’ve come to make an offer of compromise for the day, dear horse,’ he began as he untied the rope holding her to the picket line. ‘We’ve a guest today. Vrór…Vrór Redfist. The fellow with the bright hair…the one that has walked all the way.’ He ran his fingers over her head and body checking for any problems. ‘I’m thinking he should sit the fore; don’t you? Be more stable up there. He’ll have the reins,’ he raised a brow to the mare. ‘But of course you will most likely take the lead as you normally do.’ Rôg reached into a small pouch he’d brought along with him and pulled out a handful of oats, offering it the horse.

‘By the way, he called you a “steed” when I spoke of you to him.’ The mare twitched an ear at the accolade, nodding her head up and down as she munched on the oats.

Rôg saddled her when she was finished and secured his small pile of belongings to the rear of the saddle, settling them so he would be able to perch on them as the Dwarf took the saddle. He then saw to Aiwendil’s mount.

Across the camp, he spied Vrór making his way toward the horses. Rôg waved him over. ‘A good morning to you, Master Redfist!’ He went to stand by the mare. ‘And here is our noble steed; ready for the day’s journey.’ He spoke a few soft words to the horse then moved near to the saddle. ‘May I give you a leg up? 'Twil be most comfortable here in the saddle, I think. I'll sit behind.’