Musings, by firechild
Author: firechild
Title: Musings
Rating: PG
Theme: Think Outside the Box
Elements: knift, sunny, spry
Beta:
Author's Notes: In-voice, so probably not so easy to read.
Summary: Never send a horse to do a pony's job.
Word Count:
I dun’ know the fella what holds m’ rope; seems a decent sort, though, they all do. Know ‘is horse-‘s called Merethorn, an’ he c’n put away th’ oats like nothin’. Nex’ ta Merethorn goes Sunny wit’ ‘er hay-love Egarim, an’ ‘round me I see Ixoye an’ Fellstar an’ Tremor an’ the others. They don’ say nothin’, but they give me nods, an’ I know we’ll be talkin’ up th’ day later. I ‘ave missed ‘em, m’ mates from the stables. Their riders’re kindly, too; quiet-like, though, t’day.
Somethin’s up. I c’n see easy ‘nough that Himself isna farin’ s’ good-I go riderless, an’ he shares seat an’ talk wit’ the horse-eared one on Arod. Now, ya see as Himself’s getting’ hisself yawed at for one thing’re ‘nother pret’ regular, but I know how it really is; Himself’s good folk, f’r sure an’ certain, an’ ‘e’s here ‘cause ‘e’s lookin’ out f’r a friend, th’ sunset-maned one what talked wit’ the two-leg chief an’ can’t seem ta settle now. Himself hasn’ done nothin’ yawish t’day, an’ he’n Horse-Ears look ta be plannin’.
Th’ other fella, now, ‘im I can’t figure. T’ain’t nothin’ makes good sense ‘bout that one, nor ‘is minder; th’ minder, ‘e treats th’ younger fella like ‘is foal, an’ if’n I know m’ oats an’ coats, that foal’s in f’r th’ yawin’ o’ ‘is life. ‘M not sure th’ poor idjit knows it, neither. ‘E will, though; minder’s go’ eyes what cut through yourself easy as a knife, an’ it’s jus’ good tha’ ‘e looks at Himself wit’ respect, else I’d hafta be doin’ some kickin’, an’ no mistake.
‘M enjoyin’ th’ walk back, but ‘m pret’ sure th’ two-legs ain’t. ‘S a beautiful day, what’s got me feelin’ downright spry, an’ ‘at’s somethin’ don’ happen back in th’ Shire. We stop f’r rest an’ nibbles more’n I’d expect, an’ pay the big horses no nevermind, it’s nice ta not hafta run if’n we don’ wanna. All th’ same, though, I’ll be gladder’n a mouse in a milk bucket ta be back in m’ stall. An’ if’n I’m th’ only one what is, well, that’s a’right b’ me-let these young two-legs’ get theyselves nipped but good, an’ th’ horses’ll h’ve more time f’r bein’ friendlike. ‘S’all good.