Silver had stayed the night in the stable, alongside Steel. The house had been warm, the bed no longer empty with Rowan in it and that should have been reason enough for her to join him in the night. Things had weighed on her mind, however. Questions without any clear answers. So, she had done that which had made the most sense to her. She had gone into the dark, into the quiet, into the comfort of the small horse barn where her constant companion of fifteen years rested patiently and spoke of her troubles to him.
He listened. He always had. He never judged or dismissed. He was, after all, a horse.
When she emerged come morning, she had been no closer to resolution.
But she had seen Kestrea, who had asked for opinions and answers. Silver had tried to give them as honestly as she could but, as was often the way when she gave whole truths instead of partial ones or outright evasion, she was met with dismissiveness or insult.
"Temperamental," she sneered as Steel's hooves thundered along the grassy roadside of the Greenway. "Answer honestly, but not too honestly or else you're unreasonable. Why answer at all?"
Why indeed? You owe her nothing, least of all answers.
Silver grit her teeth. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. She was sleeping. They'd all agreed! But what of the additional day...? Woad had confirmed her fear that Rowan hadn't lost a day. Silver had gained one.
Paper thin. Spit and glue. Naught but hope to cover the cracks. Did you think I'd sit by and watch forever?
No. No! Silver shook her head sharply. It couldn't be that. It wasn't true. It was just her imagination, just an adverse reaction to the stress and confusion of the situation at hand. She didn't really know how to handle it. She'd admit that to herself if no one else. It was all overwhelming. So many adjustments to make, so many things to learn and become used to, so much uncertainty and...
She cut her thoughts short as they arrived at the horse farm. Had Steel really moved so fast or had more time passed than she realized? As she glanced up at the crystal blue winter sky, she wondered where that time had gone.
It didn't take long for her to locate the stable master, find the mare Rowan had mentioned and part with her coin. She couldn't help a faint twang of resentment for it as she led the placid beast back over to her own, smiling gently as she introduced the pair. She had offered to buy the animal. No, she had insisted on it. He needed one, and she had the means for it when he didn't. But she also had the expertise to help choose. She had the knowledge, the experience... and instead of being involved in the decision, she had been sent along to buy blindly, like a servant to a spoiled noble brat who couldn't bear to get their silk slippers dirty on the cobbled market streets. The bearer of the purse. Nothing more.
When did our experience ever matter to him? Our success was never more than "luck." Knowledge gained over the years has been ignored. Opinions given dismissed unless there was someone else around to echo our sentiments.
"Shut up," she muttered as she clambered back upon Steel. The mare's reigns were held loosely in one hand as she and her steed led the good-natured equine away from the only home she had ever known.
We could go somewhere else, you know. We've already seen Erebor.
Rather than go straight back to the house, Silver let Steel pick the route. He took her away from the road and out into the eastern fields. When he came near Nen Harn, she steered him a little north, choosing for herself the cliff over the ravine. There, she dismounted, allowing the newly acquainted horses some time to get to know one another. Meanwhile, she sat herself down upon the crisp, damp grass and stared down into the abyss below.
This wasn't the place she had been thrown from. That was a few miles to the north, but it was close enough to bring back memories. Close enough to make her consider reliving them again.
"You don't get a say in this," she snorted, recognizing such thoughts for what - or who - they were.
She can't be trusted, true. She breaks too easily, but I got us this far.
Silver picked a blade of grass from the ground, glaring down at it as she so very carefully split it into hair-thin slivers. She refused to answer. She refused to engage. She wouldn't be goaded like this. She concentrated. It was a delicate act, almost as delicate as the balance within her mind, but she could maintain it. She had to. To do otherwise meant losing everything.
She stayed until it was silent. She stayed until she shivered from the cold and not from the fear. She stayed until she felt it would be all right to continue on her way, and then she mounted Steel again. The shadows were starting to grow long, and they were longer still by the time the trio arrived at the place she was trying to turn into a home. She led the pair into the stable, making sure to brush them down and give them food.
Why do you insist on this path? He doesn't want you there. He's made that plain from the beginning. You make promises, you do as he asks, you reassure and compromise and give in for his sake, and still, he asks her to babysit you!
She closed her eyes against the mocking, taking a few hobbled steps backward. When her back bumped into the wall, she slid down it, burying her face in her hands as her knees rose up to rest against. Her cane rolled away across the straw floor, unnoticed.
Give him what he wants. Let him go to Erebor, insist that woodland trollop goes as well. Screw them both! We don't need them, my dear, we never did.
"She's not..." Silver protested quietly, her words cut short as a sob worked its way out of her throat. Not that it mattered. The Silver-inside knew exactly what she meant to say.
A friend? Goodness, darling! I knew you were soft, but I never took you for stupid! We don't have friends. Just people we might find useful at a later date. Contacts. Tools. That's how we make it through life unscathed. You know this.
"It's not enough!"
Steel turned his head from his umpteenth inspection of the mare to watch his rider, the growl in her voice had caught his attention even if the words themselves meant little.
It's always been enough. It's always been safe. This is not safe. It's just asking for trouble. It already hurts, doesn't it? So, let's just go. Let's leave it behind where it belongs. Let your beloved Dunedain go on the road with her, just as he wants, and let him think you are being a good little cripple back at home - the sneered word echoed around her skull - and we'll just... go wherever we want to, just like we always have.
"Shut up!" She squeezed her eyes tightly closed despite the fact that her face was still hidden behind her hands.
Why conform to his expectations, his desires? He thinks you're useless, a burden, a hindrance. Is he really wrong? You think so too, after all. He doesn't want you to have this one last adventure. He doesn't want you with him on the road. He doesn't want you to go to Erebor.
This time she didn't respond. What was there to say? What argument could she possibly have against the mounting evidence? What words could she possibly form when all that spilled forth from her lips were wracking sobs?
She curled up as small as she could, closing her physical ears, and the ears of her mind, to all sound from without or within. She ignored the world, the horses, the thoughts swirling around in her mind; her own and those of the other her. It was too hard. It was too much. She was hurt and upset and angry and confused, the feelings all at war with one another until she could no longer tell one from the other. It was overwhelming. She didn't know what to do about it. She didn't know how best to quiet this raging maelstrom or even if she could. She couldn't talk to anyone about it. Who was there to talk to? Who would actually listen and understand and not dismiss her as irrational, temperamental or just plain mad?
So, instead, she made the same mistake she had always made, the same one that had led to her current state; she internalized it all. At least, this time, she allowed herself the release of crying, the tears flowing hot and quick, only to spill through her hands and roll away against the black leather of her trousers. Even this, she did quietly, not wanting to draw attention.
