We are at war. There will be scars.
Erebor comes to the field with a mission too.Perhaps he's too young for this – after all, he's not even a yearling – but there is something older about him, as though he were born a little bit more aged than he should've been. He is born to be something more than just a horse, more than a colt, and he feels the weight of that expectation on his back. He might be young to carry so many hopes, but it isn't an uncomfortable burden.
And so he's decided to strike out into the field, to try his hand at some recruiting. There is no rule against it, after all, and despite his youth he knows himself to be quite charming. And so he follows the well-worn path from the Chamber to the field, finding it easily enough.
The sunlight is gentle on his back as he surveys the area. He is black, like his father, and well muscled even at his age. No doubt he will grow up to be a strong fighter; he already has the bearing for it, a strength and a pride that holds him up like iron.
The land is far more empty than the colt would have expected. After all, is this not the land where those new to Beqanna come to find homes? Surely it is a place teeming with life, vibrant, bursting with choosing horses, considering their various options and deciding where to pledge themselves? But no, it is just a muddy, blank space, emptier by far than it could be. The boy is almost surprised, but his face doesn't show the emotion. He is a born stoic.
His eyes land on a young mare, older than him but still not aged. He notes the small crowd gathering around him, recognizing the stallion Texas who had come to the Chamber not so long ago. None of the others are familiar to the boy. He approaches them all at an even pace; bounding and bouncing around was always too inefficient for his tastes. Reaching the group, he nods to each horse in turn, meeting their eyes in a friendly way, a small smile on his young lips. "Good afternoon" he offers to the group at large before focusing his attention on the horse who doesn't smell entirely of Beqanna.
"Erebor, ma'am." he addresses the mare directly. For such a young colt, his voice is remarkably smooth and rich. "You've got quite a crowd." he says to her, a hint of amusement in his voice. It's so easy to forget how young he is.
And that isn't at all accidental.
Erebor
Native Prince of the Chamber
warship x straia