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{He is drawn to the forest with the same intensity some crave drink or food. Underneath the trees, he is at peace and his senses are alert. Behind him, a short distance away Ehtyarion is grazing, his large white ears swiveling this way and that to catch the sounds of the forest.

Aragorn glances at the unicorn, smiling to himself before he goes back to fletching some arrows. His hands are deft and practiced as he works and he rises when one arrow is done. Picking up his bow - something he carved and fitted himself - he nocks the arrow and takes careful aim at a soft target. Said target is composed of moss and leaves that he has nailed to a tree.

The arrow flies true and hits the mark. Ehtyarion makes an indignant sound and Aragorn speaks softly as he retrieves the arrow:}

Av-'osto, Ehtyarion, av-'osto. {"Don't be afraid, Ehtyarion, don't be afraid." He chuckles as the unicorn tosses his mane imperiously.}

Goheno nin, hîr vuin. {"Forgive me, my lord." Stowing the arrow in his bushel, he places a hand over his heart and bows. With a quick, graceful trot, Ehtyarion closes the space between them and nudges his velvet soft muzzle against Aragorn's cheek. The man strokes his fingers through the unicorn's mane, eyes soft.}

As the chill grows, our companions become dearer to us. {His attention shifts to the Locket.} Surround yourself with laughter and warmth no matter the obstacles. Even if death should separate us, the bonds we forge will not dissipate.

{Gathering his bow and fletching materials, he stows them away on the unicorn's back. He has fashioned a special saddle for the proud creature - something light, durable and soft. Once everything is secured, he swings himself easily into the saddle, Locket in hand.}

There is much to see; much to enjoy. {Positioning the Locket just so - away from him and towards the trees - he urges Ehtyarion into a quick trot. The beauty of the forest is easy to see - emerald greens, browns, reds and even golds pass in front of the screen. Aragorn lets the view speak for itself before closing the Locket with a click.}

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...lad, what sort of animal is that?

[Did he see this creature already? He doesn't remember seeing this creature already.]

Milord? [ Too surprised to remember Aragorn would prefer his name rather than his title ]

That is a lovely... horse? sire. [ What is it where are you GOSH YOUR MAJESTY YOU CANT JUST HIE OFF ON YOUR OWN WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO YOU??? ]

What's got you in such a good mood, your grace?

[Only Gendry can make such a high title sound so contemptible. But by and large, he is just suspicious of anyone going off and being merry and talking about laughing. If someone's going around spreading mirth, it's because they want something.]

[ unlike gendry, arya likes aragon. although she's in no mood for good things, not with jon in some sort of sleeping spell like her sister had been months before.] Do you ride him? [ the unicorn.]

Edited 2014-11-26 14:45 (UTC)

Nice shot.

[But Steve's smiling more for his words than his aim.]

Wise words, my friend. I have oft reminded my husband of such.

[Zhaneel enjoyed exploring the vast Drabwurld, even if she avoided some of the darker and more threatening regions closest to Cart Scima. Daily her flights took her places unlike any she had even seen before upon Velgarth and showed her creatures beyond anything the Pelagirs could possibly offer.

Today, her flight carries her over the canopy of trees, wings fanned as she slowly (for her) skirted the limbs and leaves. It's the familiar sound of a bow that catches her ear and ear tufts flick in the direction of the sound. She changes course, catching sight of the mounted ranger as he rides away on his mount.

She glides overhead, following his path from above on wings that serve nearly as silently as an owls'. She catches sight of his bow, secured to his saddle, and thrums low in her chest.]

'Twas you I heard, then? Shooting a bow?

[Her voice carries down through the trees, lilting and curious. She isn't intending on startling he or his mount... she hadn't really intended to speak at all, so much as watch the pair.]

.. I take it that things are well with you and with Arwen.

Wise words, melamin... [A beat as she gives a hint of a smile.] Though, I do hope I won't lose you to Ehtyarion and the wild for too long.

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