It took him most of the evening to make the passes of the Chambers borders. Partly because there was a bit of land to cover, and partly because he was just too damn big to weave through the trees. By the time he had made it back to his starting point, the autumn moon was high above the treetops.
What little light filtered through the pines, gave view to his crashing through the trees. He was loud, he was clumsy and he was displeased. He had never had this issue before, though never before had he taken up residence in a forest. He found it irritating that he had yet mastered the totems, he couldn't slink and weave through the wood as his Queen did. He couldn't silently stalk or appear like the Prince Erebor. No, no simple task was he handed, but complain not. Not out loud anyways, as always he had kept his mutterings to his own inner voice. Chiding himself with each step, a snapped branch here, scraping his shoulder there. He needn't worry about intruders, the noises he made as he crashed around were like to send them running long before he ever arrived.
It was maddening really, especially for one who prided themselves on their performance. He would watch the others sometimes, through a burning glare. The bulk of his body had yet fail him a scuffle, yet it inhibited him to cross a simple path. It was then he noticed something new. No, he smelled someone new. Female, obviously he snorted as he mentally told himself this. Well, he could not resist a fresh trail.
As luck would have it, he had neared the meadow, and thus the tree line had thinned out considerably. He sniffed at the air, nares flared wide as he tilted his head this way or that. He lifted his crown up, before turning it to the ground, a single golden hair caught on a twig. It was not terribly long after that, that his nose was no longer necessary and his eyes could do the searching for him just the same. A speck of gold luminosity, against a sea of black and deep greens. He stopped and beheld her for a moment, carefully looking over her form, noting things which he found were appealing and those which he found could use improvement. The hair, the flowing locks of spun gold, why? What purpose did it serve to have such long tendrils cascading from ones neck?
Not a single scar either he noted, though that could mean many things, his sister though he loathed to recall, had but the one. It perhaps would be odd, to approach and see him standing there with his scrutinizing gaze. To be seen looking upon a mare in such an objective way, and not just gawking at her loveliness, especially during the breeding season. Actually the scents bothered him not, that too was part of his training. One couldn't be losing their head in the heat of battle simple because some mare had come into her estrus. By now she had probably seen him, and likely thought him rude to stand and stare.
He gave a short whicker, stomping a feathered pillar.