15min fic #15
Aug. 21st, 2004 05:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Mongrel
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Everything inside the cut is mine~ preciousss
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 15. I know, late, but this word was seriously giving me nothing .-.;;
~ ~ ~
Nolryn folded his arms and watched the splotchy horse at the end of the stable with careful scrutiny. Not that there was much to scrutinise: the stallion was displaying nothing more than his creamy rump. A dark, terracotta splotch marked it, and the horse’s dark brown tail swished irritably.
An ear twitched when one of the stable hands drew the beast around and walked him unhurriedly towards the waiting prince.
Nol took an involuntary step back when the horse had reached the rail, snorting in annoyance and still swishing his tail.
“Majesty,” he asked carefully, “This horse bares a disturbing resemblance to the last one you put me on.”
“How so? The last horse was a chestnut.”
The prince slanted his father a look. “You don’t really understand horses, do you Majesty?” he accused, not expecting for an answer. “Was this horse wild before it was stabled in Ni-Yana?”
Mithé shook his head and laughed. “No, son, this horse has been bred in one of the best stables in Kazin.”
Nolryn raised an eyebrow, eyeing the hoof that was pawing incessantly at the earth. “Will he toss me as soon as I’m in his saddle?”
“Why not mount him and find out?”
He took a deep breath before swinging himself over the wooden railing and stepping cautiously towards the stallion. He lay a hand on the animal’s shoulder, so he knew he was there, then placed one foot in the stirrup, batting away an inquisitive muzzle that bore equally inquisitive teeth.
“If I break my arm again,” he warned his father, “I’ll be the first member of the Own to ever ride a camel into battle.” Bracing his hands on the horse’s back and gripping the reins with one hand, he swung himself up into the saddle, patting at the animal’s shoulder to reassure him. He earned a pair of snapping jaws for his efforts, but at least he wasn’t thrown from the saddle again.
“I think I’ll call him Mongrel,” he decided.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Everything inside the cut is mine~ preciousss
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 15. I know, late, but this word was seriously giving me nothing .-.;;
Nolryn folded his arms and watched the splotchy horse at the end of the stable with careful scrutiny. Not that there was much to scrutinise: the stallion was displaying nothing more than his creamy rump. A dark, terracotta splotch marked it, and the horse’s dark brown tail swished irritably.
An ear twitched when one of the stable hands drew the beast around and walked him unhurriedly towards the waiting prince.
Nol took an involuntary step back when the horse had reached the rail, snorting in annoyance and still swishing his tail.
“Majesty,” he asked carefully, “This horse bares a disturbing resemblance to the last one you put me on.”
“How so? The last horse was a chestnut.”
The prince slanted his father a look. “You don’t really understand horses, do you Majesty?” he accused, not expecting for an answer. “Was this horse wild before it was stabled in Ni-Yana?”
Mithé shook his head and laughed. “No, son, this horse has been bred in one of the best stables in Kazin.”
Nolryn raised an eyebrow, eyeing the hoof that was pawing incessantly at the earth. “Will he toss me as soon as I’m in his saddle?”
“Why not mount him and find out?”
He took a deep breath before swinging himself over the wooden railing and stepping cautiously towards the stallion. He lay a hand on the animal’s shoulder, so he knew he was there, then placed one foot in the stirrup, batting away an inquisitive muzzle that bore equally inquisitive teeth.
“If I break my arm again,” he warned his father, “I’ll be the first member of the Own to ever ride a camel into battle.” Bracing his hands on the horse’s back and gripping the reins with one hand, he swung himself up into the saddle, patting at the animal’s shoulder to reassure him. He earned a pair of snapping jaws for his efforts, but at least he wasn’t thrown from the saddle again.
“I think I’ll call him Mongrel,” he decided.