It is rare, exceedingly rare, that she chooses to leave the House of Arch for Milliways itself. But Ingress is asleep, at least for now, and Megwyn is restless -- more so than usual
( Read more... )
Outside, by the lake, there is a young man fresh-come from his home. Hellenus is back at their sister's bedside again; Hektor has come here to rest, and to think. The lake is as good a place as any to do that.
At the sound of hooves on the soil, he looks up and his breath catches in his throat.
White-coated horses he has seen, but they have had grey to them here or there, a few dark hairs scattered about in their coats. A horse-seller from Arabia told him that if ever a horse of pure white is born, with no dark anywhere to them, the sun-god claims the foal straightaway before ever it grows to adulthood.
He cannot remember ever seeing a horse with blue eyes, let alone one all of white.
Inwardly he curses; he has no salt-lump with him, nor any apple or other sort of fruit to offer. He looks instead to the lines of the horse's body, the shoulder rather than the eye, for he would not give threat or appear dangerous to an animal as fine as this. "Fair evening, fairest one," he murmurs in clear careful Greek.
( "Mother of Mares!" cried Thalestris, and indeed she looked a true daughter of Poseidon Hippios- )
At this he bows, his knuckles pressed firm against his forehead, much as he does when he salutes the Bar-goddess. "Forgive me for not knowing you at first sight," he says. "I had not known there were any children of the gods here, save the man who was born of a sea-nymph."
"My people," he says, "have stories of such things, of this god or that begetting children in the form of some great beast. There are no such stories of any common sort of horse speaking, not in any tongue or country that I know of, save for Narnia- but when there are gods about, it is another story. It seemed only reasonable, to guess so."
He bows again, a little less this time.
"My name is Hektor. I come of a city dear to a god who numbers 'the Black-Maned' and 'Father of Horses' among his titles."
He smiles a little, holding up a hand in greeting. "I have heard that word used to mean the young men of good standing who accompany a king, or a prince," he says, "but that only; and I fear I have not heard of Valdemar."
"It is a hard thing, to be separated from your people and your home," says Hektor. "I have never been far from those I know for long, but my uncles have spoken of it, and the men from beyond the Turkmen lands. Is it exile, for you, or will you return one day?"
He nods, and does not ask further. But at her question he says, "My city is Troy, one of the greatest that I know of in my world and in my time; my father is Priam, the king. I am his oldest son by his queen, and I serve him and my people as best I can, and our gods also. For now I learn what I can of king-craft and the work and ways of our people, and train in the things a warrior must know. And," he adds, "I spend much time in our stables, or out with my chariot team. So if you truly had been a horse, I would still have come close, and with as much interest."
At the sound of hooves on the soil, he looks up and his breath catches in his throat.
Reply
This "horse's" eyes are a bright, clear blue.
Reply
He cannot remember ever seeing a horse with blue eyes, let alone one all of white.
Reply
Silver hooves chime softly against packed earth.
Reply
Reply
::And a fair evening to you, too.::
The sound of the voice in his mind carries undertones of amusement and gentle warmth.
Reply
At this he bows, his knuckles pressed firm against his forehead, much as he does when he salutes the Bar-goddess. "Forgive me for not knowing you at first sight," he says. "I had not known there were any children of the gods here, save the man who was born of a sea-nymph."
Reply
::Not a child, but more a servant,:: Megwyn admits, after a moment. ::You are very quick to see, though -- much more than most.::
Either here or at home, for that matter.
Reply
He bows again, a little less this time.
"My name is Hektor. I come of a city dear to a god who numbers 'the Black-Maned' and 'Father of Horses' among his titles."
Reply
She takes another step closer, and nudges at his shoulder with her nose.
::I am of Valdemar -- and as you have already guessed, I am not exactly a horse. I am a Companion.::
Reply
Reply
There's a hint of sorrow in the mental tone, tinged with acceptance.
::It is a land of another world, a land and its people, and very far from here.::
Reply
Reply
A pause, as she swings her head slightly to one side in order to look more curiously at him.
::And what of you, Hektor? And of your city, and your land?::
Reply
Reply
Megwyn nudges his shoulder again, adding,
::And I may not be a horse, but this form has many of the same needs as one...::
Reply
Leave a comment