Nova Peak pen-channas

it could not be said that felaróf was a fair man, for he held any of the mearas in higher regard than the coarse dray of their kind, and a lady of those long sundered lands could only expect to be coiffed and coddled. she was, therefore, unflawed, tempestuous struggle over an iron balustrade notwithstanding.

therefore as she took the proverbial hand, outstretched to feather lightly against the starfall of her flesh, the stallion's alert skin prickled and twitched with a great sense of wonder. "yé mána ma," he breathed lightly, keeping hooves nocked and aware for the sort of roughage her long-lashed eyes sought. that she had only their stonefell surroundings as the sum of her focus titillated felaróf, brought a prouder arch to his elegant neck and the symphonic fall of his mane across it.

"harya-ala vessë," the horselord rumbled in return, sure-footed beneath her valar-granted beauty. gone from his mind now the lands of the east and of the west; their golden trees all tumbled down in the eye of his mind as he filled with reverence and bore her down the discordant slopes. not a wife, not a one, and certainly not many as her loquacious throat suggested.

when their footing was once more given, felaróf bowed low his regal head to take a chivalrous position a more appropriate distance away. "ni aiyo ndo-o brasseneth ar aegros," the stallion whickered in a proud show, tossing tresses of milkwhite silk against the round swell of his shoulders. "rokkohéru ar varni-o calenardhon."

"mal ni am felaróf, minya imbëi aranr -o i mearas, ar amanya ar valar."