Back To The Old Days.

Frodo Silvertongue · 02-24-2011, 12:55 PM

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OOC here! Hey! First reply is for Jace, but all welcome after that. Don’t mind Frodo! wc; 453

For once, he was in lupus form. The wolf ran across the long grass alongside his loyal companion, the horse Strider. They were racing each other, catching each other up and then slowing down again, putting on sudden bursts of speed- each time attempting to outdo the other. Frodo let out a playful bark, the teenager leaping over a fallen log and jumping into a small stream, where he stopped running and instead started splashing around, lapping up the cool water. Strider halted at the bank of the stream, flinching at the thought of going inside for today was cold, and the water was colder. But, brave creature as he was, he faced his fears and slowly walked inside the river, dipping his head down as he too drank steadily from the liquid blue.

Frodo wallowed around in the water for a while, deep in thought, before he scrambled up the muddy bank and lay on the floor, drenched body leaking droplets of water. The floor was cold and hard, frozen from the winter. The gypsy was not all that comfortable, yet he was tired from all that running. Eventually, he stood up though, and slowly shifted into the form he was most happy in- optime. Whistling to his horse, who was not panting or breathless as Frodo was, the brute enveloped his friend in a warm hug, Mr Silvertongue pulling his arms round Strider’s warm neck for familiar comfort.

Frodo walked over to the equine’s flank, seeking the saddle bag that the horse wore. For once, Strider was actually wearing a saddle- but that was only because Frodo had wanted to pack for his little journey. He had set out from his pack lands, AniWaya, because he wanted some peace and quiet after all the people he had met. Everything seemed so loud and noisy after Frodo living on his own for months, and he had needed to get away. Anyway, he dug inside the saddle bag until he found a plain shirt and his large cloak.

Pulling the clothing on, and fastening the brown cloak tightly around his shoulders and body, he jumped onto Strider, squeezing so that the horse began moving at a steady pace. They walked for about an hour, until Frodo halted his friend, squinting his eyes and tilting his head and the land in front of them.
“We’ll go no further.”
He spoke to his friend, sitting on the horse and just admiring the view of rolling plains ahead. Good job we did not go any further. Any closer and we would be intruding on pack lands. He thought to himself, shaking his head. I hope nobody realises that we’re on their borders.

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