the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Fennick listened to Erebor speak and sighed inwardly. Physical strength and diplomatic grace? Some people had all the luck, and Fennick was not one of those people. Erebor was though, and Fennick tried not to hold it against him.
He had only mild success.
But still, he wasn’t a colt to be scared off. Yes, he was a little awkward, and no, he wasn’t particularly charming. But still, he had things going for him. Fennick tried to think of them and came up empty. He was a good solider, though, good enough to be promoted to Fidais. It wasn’t the most illustrious title, but it was a beginning, and Fennick was proud of it.
He puffed up a little, and tried to see in himself what Demian, his king, had. He must have seen something, after all, or he wouldn’t have prompted him. Fennick clung to that idea and tried to appear proud, at ease and not at all intimidated. A little bit like how Erebor looked, apparently without trying at all. Fennick scowled. Seriously? What’s with this guy?
Still, he pulled himself away from his testosterone fueled brooding when Tetanurae spoke. There were more important things than his own personal pissing contest, after all. Like why he was here in the first place, like why he’d plucked up his courage to talk to a girl only to make himself seem like a total fool. He smiled a little at her words. He could relate in a way. He had felt like he had nothing to offer his home but loyalty when he first showed up. He still thought that most of the time. Quickly, he rushed respond before Erebor could say something painfully clever, thus causing Fennick to lose his nerve.
“I can’t offer you a herd I’m afraid.” Fennick fidgeted a bit.
“I’ll admit I’m a bit of a perpetual bachelor.” That was putting it mildly. This was the longest conversation he’d had with a mare in living memory. He’d accidentally insulted a few in his day, but could you really call that a conversation?”
“I can offer you a home though, a kingdom, much better than a herd. Or, at least, I can show you my home and hope you like it. There’s plenty to do there, and lots of horses to meet. You could meet Demian, our king.” Fennick brightened a little at this idea. Demian was a little bit like Erebor in that he had many good qualities and used them to his advantage, rather unlike Fennick, who had good qualities, but could never remember what they were exactly. His excitement was short lived, however, and quickly his face crumbled into one of concern.
“We will, however, have to go south to reach it. I don’t suppose there’s another way to get there?” Fennick looked to Erebor, as if he might have some idea of a less southern route to the Valley. It was absurd of course, but that was Fennick for you.