I'll Come Back, When You Call Me.

Frodo Silvertongue · 11-26-2011, 03:56 AM

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OOC here! First reply for Jace. I'm going to say AW after that just because it's a packland. wc; 776

Although the wolf was still short, and young, and innocent, he was no longer a boy. He held more depth in him now. He was now a year and nine months of age, his legs had grown strong and lean, thin and gangly in contrast to the rest of his body, but even so, a sign of being finally fully-grown. The youth had grown out of his constant excitement, though he was no way near as serious as numerous canines. Frodo still was carefree, and happy. Perhaps this was not the way to be, because he had been through terrible, terrible ordeals the past months and even before that, he had pain in his life. But it was the way he was, and the way, it seemed, he would always be. This man could not be broken, and no matter how much he was punished he would still stand strong. He was a warrior that didn’t fight. He was a knight that didn’t wield a sword. He was a prince that had not a king as a father, but a common gypsy as a sire. And he had been shunned from his family, so he had no heritage, and had no title, but was a nobleman all the same, as noble as they came.

He had not a bad bone in his body, unless you were talking physically, because he felt damp in his bones, and weak.. He was not healthy any more. Sure, he looked quite strong, but the truth was, he was malnourished and worn out, and fatigued, dehydrated. The muscles he had been gradually growing were hard, yes, but he was skinny and they didn’t show. The laced, brown, peasant’s shirt on his body was cold and hard, and stained red at the back where his half-healed whip-wounds were. He had stopped feeling them now. For, he had no reason to remember them, because he didn’t remember anything. Frodo had not banged his head, or done anything of the sort to affect his memory. He just chose not to remember, and that was the way it was, until he chose otherwise.

Frodo was slumped on his steed, a creature as noble as Frodo was. The Shagya Arabian was strong. The horse Strider would not be able to carry an average luperci-wolf, it was only because of Frodo’s petite, skinny build that he was able to stay Mr Silvertongue’s riding companion. Strider didn’t know anything about where they were headed; he had a general direction, and that was home. AniWaya had been their home, even if for a short while. But now Strider was lost, and as tired as Frodo. They were both slowly lacking in speed, and had no idea where they were as they tumbled into Phoenix Forest. Just on the outskirts of the pack territory, without realising it. Frodo’s senses were not working properly, really. Striders were, but he couldn’t detect the scent of wolf properly, as he was a horse, and he too was exhausted.

Frodo was of course in optime form, to be able to ride his horse properly. The young man was mostly black furred, with an auburn mane and golden flecks around his face. All of his fur was curly, and his eyes were a bright, startling green that twinkled now in the sun. His eyes were flecked with light and wisdom despite his tender age, the mans whole body reeked of innocence. If someone were to come upon him in the territory, they would at least be able to tell he could do no harm, despite trespassing. And boy, was he exhausted. This was clear, as finally he rode his horse into the centre of the Phoenix Forest, and then lost it completely.

He collapsed, slipping to the side, falling slowly and landing hard onto the ground. The solid thump echoed around the lands, a harsh, loud sound amidst the utter silence that had previously settled. Strider, the white stallion, got anxious as his rider fell, and pawed at the ground, snorting and shouting in the language of equines. He cantered a full circle around Frodo and continued to whinny. Frodo lay unconscious, exhausted and dehydrated, oblivious to what was going on around him. Thankfully, he was not caught in the stirrups, and his saddle and saddle bags still sat smugly upon Strider. And like the loyal companion Strider was, Strider did not spook, and leave his rider like most of his kind. He just continued to paw the ground and canter small circles, fearing for Frodo, and fearing for what came next.

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