Nova Peak pen-channas

felaróf lowered his kingly countenance, brushed earthside with a humble hoof. "Á lave nin aþya le," he chuffed brazenly, watching how the light in the forest winnowed itself down for a shaft that provided her beauty no unobstruction. a lady of the mearas through and through; he would expect to court her back from beneatht he boughs.

alert now, the horselord too glided into the dappled shadows, swimming amiably after her with an unhurried gait. "nalyë lúcë," he told to her latticed self in the shade of trees that were young as the grass of their homeland. and yet too they spoke the old spiraling creaking language. he stopped to listen, questing velveteen muzzle tilted skyward.

and then felaróf belonged to her again, stopping to sidle his smoothwhey shoulder against the etched trunk of a nearby sycamore, marveling at its largesse before he cast off after insilmë; tracing her scent into the fibers of himself until he felt as though his spirit might soar from the finebone confines of his ribcage.

what was this? but scarce a moment to wonder before he pranced to another tree, vied for her hallowed gaze in the glim of another elderleaf. "ñoltuvan le," and silent he offered the breadth of his soul in a silent prayer to the moonbow.