[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Rested and clean, Marsilion made his way down to the common room at the Prancing Pony. He looked around at the others in the room, men and hobbits, in one corner an elf, all with faces lined with worry. As he made his way over to the bar he passed a large notice on the wall. His blue eyes slipped over it rapidly.

So,the man thought, it is in the crops... as I'd guessed. He pressed his lips together, then grinned, thinking I'd better get a good breakfast today, who knows when I'll get another. But then a serious thought struck him: his horse, stabled at the inn.

Marsilion quickly made his way to the stables. The curly headed hobbit stableboy looked nervous as the purposeful Ranger came toward him in long strides.

The boy gulped and opened wide brown eyes at Marsilion's question, "Yes, sir, your horse is fine, sir."

The ranger breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Firien was a horse of Rohan, a superb (and valuable) mare. He went into her stall and ran his hand over her chestnut coat, bright as copper. The horse had been a gift, from a Rider he loved as a brother, and he loved her too, she was swift and fearless and trained to respond to his every command.

He touched her under the chin with his long fingers, feeling for the telltale blisters that signalled the plague, then ran his hands down the length of her throat. She moved nervously as she felt his worry, but Marsilion found no signs of sickness. He smiled at the horse, and spoke softly "Firien, my love, we will ride together soon." the horse flicked an ear impatiently, "but now you must remain inside. Drink deep, my love, for hungry days are coming." She lowered her head, rubbed against his chest.

Leaving the stall, Marsilion motioned to the hobbit boy. "My horse is to remain inside." He commanded. "Feed her nothing but last year's hay, do you understand me?"

The stableboy nodded his head vigorously, "Yes sir! I understand, she's to be kept inside, and have nothing but hay, sir"

The hobbit stableboy was truly frightened now, he was unaccustomed to orders from angry men with swords. Marsilion took some silver pennies from his pocket and pressed them into the boy's hand, he realized he'd scared the kid, and smiled. The boy smiled back. "Thank you, sir!"

As the man re-entered the inn, he moved quickly to the bar, noting the presence of a young woman he recognized. He sat at the bar, ordering a substantial breakfast and ate, pondering both the identity of the woman, and the upcoming meeting. The girl, he thought, was the daughter of a Ranger he knew, Ellith? Elenna? he couldn't remember her name. He nodded at her, and she nodded back across the smoke filled room. The meeting, though, the meeting was a real possibility. He thought about it as he chewed. He'd have to attend this meeting.