Durvagor, with the help of Aravir, washed down Pernole and gave him a good, scrubbing brush. The horse was exhausted and not used to the straining ride against the wargs they had endured that day. Aravir was kind enough not to say anything about his weaknesses. Instead he unloaded his own belongings and set them down by a tree stump as Durvagor finished with his horse.
With a coat of pearls and mane of snow
Non beauty can compare
His grace and splendor dashes all
Pernole was born with flair
“Well it’s not a good rhyme I know,” he said, patting Pernole’s nose. “But you deserve some praise. Here I’ll add a second verse.”
Bravery indeed was not his strength
Before this dawn occurred
Tho’ as soon as peril showed it’s face
His mind was not deterred
Durvagor shrugged and watched as Pernole, still a bit shaken, made his way to the rapids to drink in the coolness. The ranger then proceeded closer towards the blazing fire and set out to sharpen his sword and do his best to smooth out the few nicks it had received on the Uruk’s armor. Soon, Tarannon and Sorlas returned with food.
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"They call this war a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say, 'Sh*t, it's raining!'" -- Ruby, Cold Mountain
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