Winter Light by Idrils Scribe

Chapter 2

The great stable lay quiet. Snow blanketed all Imladris, and inside the high space with its arched pillars the silence was broken only by the steady swish of Elrohir’s currycomb. The pony turned her head to sniff him as he brushed. 

That mischievous little mare had been rolling in the mud again, but Elrohir’s labours had her coat creamy white once more, marked with a scattering of chestnut spots. 

Her ears pricked up, and clever brown eyes caught his own.  

“Here, friend!”

The pony whipped around the instant Elrohir reached into his pocket. He pulled out a carrot and held it up. She eagerly lipped the treat, then chewed with gusto. Elrohir stroked her spotted neck beneath the running braid he just made, and caught himself checking the ribbon that secured it for what had to be the fifth time. Why was he so nervous?

Around the corner, at the stable’s entrance, the great double doors were opened. A multitude of footsteps rang on the flagstones. He picked out Arwen’s light tread at once, but at least ten others surrounded her - it seemed that no one had wanted to miss this moment. 

Even Ardil, Elrohir’s taciturn guard, suddenly appeared from a side door. He sent Elrohir a quick smile and leaned against a pillar in eager expectation. 

“Mommy, can we go to see Rochael?” Arwen’s voice came nearer, chattering like a sparrow. “Has Elrohir gone riding yet? Is Glorfindel going with him? Can I join them, daddy?” 

Elrohir’s nerves leapt at his throat, and he busied himself tidying away his brushes. He had begun his venture five years ago, the summer Arwen was born. He had traded for a Dwarf-pony stallion in exchange for Elvish blades, and bought a string of kindly mares from a hobbit trader. The foal he had chosen with care, and trained her as well as he might before asking a Dwarvish friend to train her under saddle. 

Arwen would love this pony. 

“Hey, you rascal!” Elrohir tried his best to look stern as his sister rounded the corner. Arwen forever needed reminding that she was not allowed to play in the cavalry stables. She was small enough to walk underneath the great war horses. These were Valinórean chargers, bred for their fell spirits and brave hearts. A child could easily come to harm. 

“Oooh, Elrohir!” Arwen was breathless the instant she caught sight of the little mare. Elrohir’s heart leapt in his chest. 

Behind Arwen’s back, Elrond, Celebrían and Elladan craned their necks. Glorfindel followed, grinning like a cat that got the cream.

Arwen dashed towards the pony and threw her arms around the sturdy neck. “She is so beautiful! What is her name?”

Elrohir carefully kept an even face. “What do you think we should call her?”

Arwen’s eyes widened, not daring to hope. Elrohir was quick to reassure her. “Yes, she is for you!”

Arwen flew at him, her little arms tight around his neck. She was so light, and yet Elrohir staggered beneath the weight of her. He had never known that he could love this much , he thought as he curled his body around the wriggling child in his arms, bending his head to smell her sweet scent. His chest ached like it was too small to contain the thundering rush of warmth and care and sheer protectiveness. 

He clung to his little sister with the strength of his lost certainties. This child would never be alone. She would never want for anything. No danger would threaten her. Elrohir would see to it, or die trying.  

Over Arwen’s shoulder, Celebrían caught his gaze. Do you understand now? Her look seemed to ask. It was a sobering realisation that he, himself, was loved like this, made precious by it.    

A hand came down on his shoulder. Elrond did not speak, but his mind was an open bloom of joy. Elladan was less subtle, and simply threw his arms around both his siblings. 

“So, what is her name?” Elrohir managed from within the tangle, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. 

Arwen did not hesitate for an instant. “Spot, of course!” she cried, pointing at the flecked pony. 

“Spot it is!” Elrohir laughed. 

Arwen was hopping from one foot to the other, torn between dancing for joy and cuddling Spot, and coming to a rather peculiar mixture of both. Spot stood quietly beneath the onslaught. A perfect pony indeed. 

“Will you teach me to ride her?” Arwen’s eyes gleamed.

Elrohir hoisted his giggling sister onto his shoulders, spun her around and lowered her gently onto Spot’s back. “I will, sweetling.”

Chapter End Notes

Of course I'd love to hear what you think about Arwen and big brother Elrohir. Too sweet, or just right? Any thougts about the foreshadowing? I'd love to hear from you, so consider leaving me a comment!

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and see you soon,
Idrils Scribe