He isn't sure what to make of it, not really. He hadn't been prepared for anything like the quest. He's heard of them before, of course – what horse in Beqanna hasn't? – but he had never asked for one. He'd never dreamed that he would be plucked from within the Chamber and brought to somewhere so entirely different. He'd never dreamed that he'd wish for death, that he'd hurt so badly he should surely die, and pass through all the pain and suffering to reach the other side.
And of course, he'd never dreamed of having a gift.
Being in Beqanna, he knew that gifts existed. He ran across them not infrequently in the field and in the other kingdoms. But the Chamber had been a place that didn't welcome those with gifts – its magic had sucked the gifts away from those who lived there. He'd never longed for those gifts; to him, they were a tactical advantage, nothing more. And now, suddenly, he finds both himself and his mother in possession of gifts. And not any minor gifts either. He doesn't know the full extent of his mother's gift, but he's seen the wings and the multitude of ravens, and he can suspect.
It's a lot to take in. Even half of it would be a lot to take in. But luckily for Erebor, he's a born stoic. Luckily for him, the recent complications to his life emerge as curiosity to be puzzled out and worked through, rather than a trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his days.
Indeed, he is far from haunted as he finds his way to the meadow. He is here because he is looking for others like him. The quests, he knows from the stories, often involve multiple horses. Yes, he had his memories of what had happened to him, and no other horses are included there. But it's not necessarily that simple. It is very possible that somewhere, another horse underwent something similar, again at the hands of the erstwhile fairy. And if so, if there are others out there with newly minted gifts, and those newly minted gifts are even fractionally as strong as his, he needs to at least know who they are and what they've received, if not draw them back to the Chamber with him.
There is legitimately no part of him that is seeking to take solace with others who may have undergone the same traumas. To Erebor, this was simply another memory, simply another moment – one that would redefine the rest of his life, but not one that was beyond his (admittedly rather impressive) ability to handle.
He comes to the meadow at dusk, just as the light is starting to fade. It is beautiful now; this is what they call the magic hour, when everything appears gilded and beautiful. He would be beautiful even if he were not gilded. He stands like a statue, chiseled and elegant, his bearing formal and rigid despite the fact that he is truly relaxed. He is well-muscled, tall, strong, and toned. If it weren't for the colors of his coat, he'd be every mare's fantasy.
Ah, but that coat. It's not that the colors are feminine (thank goodness that it wasn't pink), so much as they're just…a bit too flashy and unnatural. His entire body is a dark wine red. It's as though his coat has been magically dyed with a dye that refuses to fade. His mane and tail have wide streaks of alternating dark green and dark blue, offsetting the wine red in a pretty way. He looks so absolutely unnatural that it's almost impossible for him to wrap his head around it. He wonders if it's permanent. He suspects it is (he is wrong, he'll learn that eventually).
He pauses at the edge of the meadow. The entire area spills out below him, and he feels the heat rising from the mass of horses below like a tidal wave. It does not overwhelm him; instead, it's like coming home, like finding a place where they all speak his language. Heat is his language now, the press of bodies, the blending and the rising, rising, rising. The night air is still warm around him, and he manipulates the heat to create a breeze.
And then he waits, brown eyes (remarkably normal, for everything else that's changed) scanning the meadow for a horse who might share his strange coloration, or simply for an interesting conversation partner.
erebor
heat manipulating lord of the chamber
warship x straia