Of Mirkwood
You blush, embarrassed of a sudden. "I cannot mount any
horse," you say shyly, looking up with awe at the great creature
that stands before you.
Voronda tsks, "Well then, I will have to teach you, won't
I?" And then she goes off into the long lesson of gracefully
mounting one's horse. Fortunately, your memory must hold something of
mounting a steed, for the lesson is quickly learned, and now with
skill you mount Ainuruve, and both your horses begin to walk.
"Where are we?" you ask slowly, after some time.
"Near Mirkwood," she replies.
Mirkwood. That, too, sounds familiar. Vaguely. "Where are we
going?"
"Into Mirkwood," she replies, glancing over at you.
"Something wrong, Melima?"
"No." And you are right. There is nothing wrong. Not really.
Except that something is strongly tugging on your mind.
"Well then," she grins. "We must go at a faster pace if
we are to reach Mirkwood by nightfall." She leans towards her
horse, "Noro lim, Rokkohanu, Ainuruve, noro lim!"
[Literally, 'Ride swiftly, Rokkohanu, Ainuruve, ride swiftly!]
Suddenly both your horses leap, bound, and dash away very quickly.
Ainuruve runs so fast that her russet-brown manes slaps your cheeks,
the wind takes your breath away, and you have to strain to hold
yourself onto her.
"You need not hold so tightly," Voronda's voice carries on
the wind, "she is a good, fast horse. Very reliable."
You try to nod as you clasp your hands loosely about Ainuruve's neck
and close your eyes. "She knows where she is going, does she
not?" you ask Voronda.
"Yes," Voronda replies. "She does."
Mirkwood. That is where she is going. That is where you are going.
Fast, fast. On the wind. Speeding. Faster, faster now. Pounding sweet
earth. Taking breath away. Slashing manes and whipping tails.
Mirkwood.
Voronda leaps on Rokkohanu's back gracefully. "Come," she
says firmly, nodding to you and then to Ainuruve.
