Nova Peak pen-channas

almárëa. and as felaróf felt the satin-brush of her pelt skirt discreetly against his own, he felt that indeed it was a boon and a blessing that the valar had so instructed him to come here. the horselord was summarily stricken by the sound of her voice in the poured-champagne column of her throat, the sound of her well-shaped hooves clicking with a genteel elegance against the treacherous earth.

"ni vanta símen ana rimbë-rokko." but the gods-blessing beside him had been the first aside from himself that he had seen. "omótien nyarnan sina andave," the stallion went on, twitching his skin against the bite of inferior insects that sought to sully his untarnished starglow with their biting ways.

felaróf passed his haughty gaze upon the woman, now gone soft with longing and utterly devoted to any whim her courtly mind might inspire. had he less mindlessness, he might have grasped upon the reticence of the mare. yet the king saw only a feminine wile there, the veiling of true self and true desire to glean a fitting courtship.

"mal lumbor ear pícë i nór." the horselord had found no worth in the wild lash of feral, untamed weald that crawled with snarling vermin. "lin-savarna suimima gwelu." the lady too delicate a creation to be left to such crude teeth.

he lowered his muzzle, breathed into a knightly bow. "á tule asenye-iel -o i mearas." for was his rightful place not at her flank? to stave off injury and death? such was the devotion of the horselord bred into him since boyhood for the women of his kith.

silent now, felaróf journeyed alongside her, repeating within his mind her minor titles that contradicted the compelling grace of her figure. but even a handmaid of his homeland would bear more royal gold hewn into her blood than the most civilized of kings in this wilderness.