Atharen
"Idruil," Atharen's voice was sharp as he spoke before Carathir could, glancing at the man he spoke to. "Leave it."
Idruil looked as if he was about to object then shut his mouth, his jaw clenching, and turned away. Atharen suspected he saw the sense in it, even if he wanted to continue this. The ranger did not look at Carathir. You are the prince and I am related to the King of Gondor - neither of us will come to power, what use is there in bloodshed over it?
On land once more, Atharen mounted the horse deftly to all eyes but with a little less ease than usually - his thoughts and the slight unsteadiness from the ship put him off, but not noticeably to other eyes. The horse noticed though, of course, and whinnied quietly. Crystal hushed it gently and stroked her neck, whispering something as Atharen tied the reins. He glanced at her in askance, not having been able to hear well as the clattering of hooves from the other's horses covered the sound, but she shook her, looking away. Slightly puzzled, Atharen left it.
As all had gathered, they started off, Atharen and Crystal riding a little way behind Maen who was at the front, nearly equal with Carathir. Atharen was saved from further brooding by Crystal.
"What is the horse's name?" Her voice was soft and musical.
"The mare?" he replied, a little surprised at the question, then shrugged. "I haven't given her one."
"Really?" She was even more surprised than him and laughed a little. "Why ever not?"
"What place have I to name her?" Atharen replied, then grinned. "Besides, I couldn't think of a nice one at the time. Go on...you name her."
|