The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

Undómë · 02-10-2006, 04:10 AM

Bregoware

Rædwald

Líss walked along at a fair pace, but one that would not be hurried. She cared not that the man who rode her often nudged her with his heels, nor that he clucked at her with his tongue to get her to move faster. She came to a full stop, in fact, at one point, and swung round her head to give him a baleful look. Shaking her mane, she snorted, then stomped a fore hoof as if in comment on his irksome attempts. Her tale twitched in agitation, stinging him slightly as it slapped hard against his thighs. He noted though she was not vexed as yet to the point of turning round to nip him on the leg. Preceding that action would be the laying back of her ears and the drawing back of her great lips from those big teeth. Nay, he thought to himself, we have not got to that impasse yet.

‘Go on, then you great beast,’ he spoke to her, in an as authoritative a tone as he dared. ‘Set your own pace, you mis-named hunk of horseflesh. And I hope as when the Orcs and other beasties come near, you might be so gracious as to pick up your speed a bit then.’ Rædwald kicked at her flanks again, and was rewarded with a resumption of forward movement.

‘What was I thinking when I named you ‘Líss’,’ he spoke aloud. ‘You are no more gracious, sweet, kind, or peaceful than is a prickly, sticker bush.’ Líss nodded her head up and down as if to agree. ‘Your mother now . . . she was sweet as honey, and fast as a quick west wind.’ He leaned over and patted the horse on the neck. ‘And she had good manners, mind you, and always listened to what I wanted.’ The dun mare snorted at the listing of her mother’s attributes.

‘Ah, well . . . at least let’s try to get to their campsite before the fires gone out and the hot water for tea gone cold.’ He flicked the reins lightly, all the while speaking in his most encouraging voice. ‘There’ll be a measure of oats in your nosebag, my sweet, if we get there then.’

The pace picked up, if only a little, at the mention of oats. Rædwald drew his cloak closer about him. The brightness of the sun in the clear sky was belied by the chill autumn breezes.

02-10-2006, 04:10 AM	#45
Undómë Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Mar 2005 Posts: 400	Bregoware *Rædwald* Líss walked along at a fair pace, but one that would not be hurried. She cared not that the man who rode her often nudged her with his heels, nor that he clucked at her with his tongue to get her to move faster. She came to a full stop, in fact, at one point, and swung round her head to give him a baleful look. Shaking her mane, she snorted, then stomped a fore hoof as if in comment on his irksome attempts. Her tale twitched in agitation, stinging him slightly as it slapped hard against his thighs. He noted though she was not vexed as yet to the point of turning round to nip him on the leg. Preceding that action would be the laying back of her ears and the drawing back of her great lips from those big teeth. Nay, he thought to himself, we have not got to that impasse yet. ‘Go on, then you great beast,’ he spoke to her, in an as authoritative a tone as he dared. ‘Set your own pace, you mis-named hunk of horseflesh. And I hope as when the Orcs and other beasties come near, you might be so gracious as to pick up your speed a bit then.’ Rædwald kicked at her flanks again, and was rewarded with a resumption of forward movement. ‘What was I thinking when I named you ‘Líss’,’ he spoke aloud. ‘You are no more gracious, sweet, kind, or peaceful than is a prickly, sticker bush.’ Líss nodded her head up and down as if to agree. ‘Your mother now . . . she was sweet as honey, and fast as a quick west wind.’ He leaned over and patted the horse on the neck. ‘And she had good manners, mind you, and always listened to what I wanted.’ The dun mare snorted at the listing of her mother’s attributes. ‘Ah, well . . . at least let’s try to get to their campsite before the fires gone out and the hot water for tea gone cold.’ He flicked the reins lightly, all the while speaking in his most encouraging voice. ‘There’ll be a measure of oats in your nosebag, my sweet, if we get there then.’ The pace picked up, if only a little, at the mention of oats. Rædwald drew his cloak closer about him. The brightness of the sun in the clear sky was belied by the chill autumn breezes.