shieldmaiden_rohan | A winter ride

The weather was cold and snowy, which suited Eowyn well. She had warm garments and a warm place to sleep, as did Bleod. The heat of the summer here was one that did not suit her nearly as much, and certainly did not suit Bleod. A winter coat could be grown, but in the summer Eowyn had to be sure not to allow Bleod to overheat.

Such it was that she was able to take long, leisurely rides in the countryside, stepping with Bleod through new-fallen snow and untrod paths while the horse's breath steamed gently in the air. They rode only as long as Bleod wished to, of course, for the mare's Mearas blood meant that even one of the line of Eorl could not and would not force her to do what she did not wish to do unless the circumstances be grave indeed.

Fortunately for both of them, the circumstances were not grave, and so Eowyn paused when Bleod indicated that she wished them to. The stream they were near flowed freely even in the winter and Eowyn thought it must be fed by some underground spring. The water was thus not too cold to drink and Bleod took her time in doing it.

Yes, this weather suited Eowyn well, though she turned in sudden attention to a noise behind her.

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She did not know the name "Niffler", but she was not surprised since she also did not recognize the creature. There were many creatures of many lands that she did not know. This, at least, seemed unlikely to try to attack her. Bleod had reached the same conclusion and turned back to the water to drink. Eowyn assisted her in that decision by patting the mare and speaking to her softly in Rohirric.

"It seems so. Niffler, did you say?" she repeated the name back to Newt. "And he likes valuable items?"

"Niffler, yes," Newt nods, still cradling the creature tightly to his chest. "He is very much fond of shiny things, which often lands him in trouble, as you can imagine." Despite his words, there is an obvious fondness for the creature in the way Newt clutches him to his chest and the way he speaks.

The Niffler continues to squirm, but eventually settles with a pouty huff.

"You shouldn't be out in the water, anyway," Newt says, tilting his head down to speak directly to the creature. "You'll catch cold."

"That's a beautiful horse you have there," he nods a moment later, glancing back at Eowyn and her companion.

"I would think that it would," she agreed. "People are often quite attached to their shiny things and likely object when he removes them."

She watched the creature eventually settle into Newt's chest and decided that Newt was indeed the type of wizard that was most talented with animals. She was very glad to know that he was not one that preferred to control and alter the minds of Men as Saruman had done.

"This is Bleod, my mare who was brought to me from my own land," she introduced Bleod. Bleod knew when she was being admired and held her head proudly, though it was somewhat diminished by the water still dripping from her muzzle.

"Oh they certainly do," Newt says with an apologetic smile. He does not mention the bank or the jewelry store his Niffler recently took the shining too. No need to let Darrow catch wind of his creature's criminal past.

He visibly relaxes when the Niffler stops struggling, settling into his arms. He glances up at Newt with beady eyes, tilting his head in a way that he knows melts Newt's heart, the cheeky bugger.

"You're fortunate you're adorable," he tells him, before turning his attentions back to Eowyn and her horse.

"Bleod," he repeats, letting the weight of the name sit on his tongue for a bit. "What a magnificent name for a magnificent creature."

The Niffler looked at Newt as a puppy looked at its owner, and she thought that Newt's reaction was much the same. It was difficult to be angry at a being that looked at one in that manner.

"She would agree with you that she is magnificent, and I could not disagree with her," Eowyn noted as she patted Bleod's neck. "She is descended of the Mearas, and all those of her lineage know their value."

She realized that Newt would not know the Mearas, so she explained further.

"The Mearas are a lineage of horses that are known to surpass other horses in strength, speed, and intelligence. The purest of the Mearas may be ridden only by the king of my land and his sons."

"A descendant of the Mearas," Newt repeats, watching Bleod with a renewed sense of wonder. She does seem to possess more grace than any horse he's met before, if he thinks about it. "Such a name seems as magnficent as Bleod," he observes with a flash of a grin.

Eowyn explains more about her horse companion, giving Newt a sense of where she comes from, in the process. She speaks of land and kings, giving him the sense that she's from an even further distant time than himself.

"Well, she's beautiful," he declares. "Has she been with you long?"

Eowyn had already decided that she quite liked Newt, and his appreciation for all animals only confirmed that. He and the wizard of animals would have spoken for long and happy hours, had they the opportunity.

"Since she was a colt. The Mearas run wild in our land, and if a horse is wanted, the one that wishes to have a horse must go to the herd. If they are deemed worthy, a horse will choose them and allow the person to have the training of the horse. In this manner, Bleod chose me. Her name means blaze, for her white forehead."

She paused to pat Bleod's forehead, then looked at the Niffler.

"Does your Niffler have a name?"

"Oh, how marvelous," Newt proclaims, listening to Eowyn explain the culture of her home. It seems so right, that the horses themselves should get to choose their own companions; they deserve as much agency as any other living creature, or so Newt has always believed. "That is incredible and wonderful, that the horses get a say in the matter, if you don't mind me saying so."

"And what a fitting name," he says, observing the white on Bleod's forehead.

He glances back down at his Niffler, smiling at how content he seems, for once. "No, I've never been able to find one fitting enough, really," he explains, glancing up at Eowyn again. "I'm usually too busy chasing him about to try and come up with one."

"We have found it to be the best way for our people, though we know that not all people have similar opinions," she replied warmly but perhaps more diplomatically than she had ever thought she could be. Some lessons of the House of Eorl she had remembered.

She paused and looked at the Niffler, considering names.

"That is difficult indeed. It must be something short, so that you may say it while chasing him. A long name would be most cumbersome to shout several times."

"No," Newt says with a wry, knowing smile, a little sad at its edges. "People harbor all sorts of opinions about animals, not all of them good. But this ceremony of your people, of the horses choosing their humans, I like that quite a lot." He manages to offer her another smile.

"Yes, indeed," he says with a chuckle. "I've often considered Gold, for such a purpose, but then, I think of how I would look, shouting 'Gold' constantly in public."

"I'm rather at a loss, it would seem," he says.

"Perhaps another language's word for gold, then?" she suggested after a moment of thought. "In my own tongue, gold is gold, so that does not assist. In the tongue of another of the people of my world, golden is mallen. In a tongue of one of my dearest friends here, I believe it is aurum."

There were many languages, and not all names need be in Westron, though Newt spoke Westron.

A winter ride

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