The Stables

#2
Coming from The East-West Road

It was afternoon on an undetermined day when Oddberry awoke and she groaned as she stretched protesting limbs. She looked around in bleary confusion wondering how she had come by a bed in the wilderness, even as her arrival in Rivendell came back to her.

She swung her legs out of the bed and grimaced a little as her right knee protested at her weight. I should probably get that looked at. Then she noticed the fresh bandage being used as support and realised somebody had indeed looked at it. She tried to shake the fuzziness from her brain and yawned instead. Perhaps she should go back to sleep instead.

Instead, the events of the night slowly became clearer in her brain and the hobbit sat back up with a jolt. Where’s Biter? Oddberry had no idea where her pony was, or even if he was ok. She thought she remembered someone taking the reins from her hands, but she couldn’t be sure. It was decided then. She would get up and find her pony. Grimy clothes were thrown back on from where they had been unceremoniously deposited and the hobbitess slipped out of her room.

She wandered the halls, knowing where she wanted to be but not quite how to get there. She could have strolled forever, drinking in the beauty of the place, walls adorned with ancient paintings and a soothing backdrop of distant waterfalls chattering. But she had places to be and was much relieved when she finally found a lone elf who gave her directions to the stables with a gentle smile.

The stables appeared to be empty of elves and the hobbit soon found her pony stretched out on a straw bed. He was largely unscathed by their exciting night, and the few small cuts he had sustained from brambles and branches during their flight had been slathered in a sweet-smelling salve.

"Hello boy." Biter started at the sound of her voice, lifting his head and pricking his ears. He went to stand up but a downward motion of Oddberry's hand allowed him to relax as she slipped through the door. "Somebody deserves a scratch." The hobbit plopped down on the straw next to him and manoeuvered herself so Biter’s head was in her lap as she began to massage her pony's ears. "I hope they gave you carrots. You deserve a whole barn full of them for getting us out of that mess."

Biter only let out a sigh of contentment in reply. An ear massage and neck scratch was a favoured activity of his.

They sat in silence for a while and Oddberry studied her pony. You would never have allowed this once. However much you like it you'd have fidgeted and grumbled and nibbled my knees after about a minute, telling me you were bored, or that what you really wanted was to play biting games like I’m another horse. She'd thought him incorrigible, that he would be a pest forever. But now she saw the grey streaked through his once chestnut mane, the mottling of roan that had once flecked his face and points receding into white and realised her pony was now an old man. She has known it of course, but he still acted like he was a just-backed colt most of the time and it was easy to forget.

“How long has it been do you think?" Oddberry asked Biter. "Fifteen, twenty years since I found you?" After a moment. "Must be twenty. Or more. That trip to Minas Tirth was our first proper one and you must have been about five years by then."

Her hands ventured from his ears to his forelock, then down his cheekbones, as she contemplated. "I think this will be our last adventure together, old boy. I shall have to see if any of your foals will suit, then you needn't worry while you live out the rest of your years in peace." She suspected it would be her doing the worrying while Biter stuffed himself full of grass in the peace of Shire, with not a care in the world.

The pony gave no indication of his preferences either way as he grunted in pleasure at her ministrations. “I agree, we can worry about that one later.” She lapsed into silence as the smell of sweet hay and horse filled her nostrils with happiness and she drifted away into her thoughts.