Bitterroot Valley a song note

shrewd gaze watched as a predator straightened into eyesight. slender little thing, wasn't it? not any threat to he who was blessed by the valar.

"one of the mearas, horselord, wild-runner," the stallion answered, hiding the small sigh of frustration. this son of wolves had not seen his kind before, and it bode badly for his current search. all would be well, felaróf told himself. the land was vast.

"to you i am a horse. and you are a wolf. now come here. let me look properly at you," the regal demanded firmly, approaching with the docile plod of an intrigued ruminant.