The thought of Feveren was bent upon the choice that lay before him, for while the journey through Yondershire was the simpler and safer course, and the swiftest passage to Lake Evendim, in his heart he much desired to behold the mansions of the Dwarves. But the road on foot to the realm of Durin's Folk seemed daunting to his mind, and so he wondered if he might find a steed willing to bear him more swiftly along that perilous path. There had been stables in each elf-city he had visited thus far, but Feveren was unused to horses and their ways were strange to him, for they were uncommon in his greenwood home.
    His people were friends to the birds and beasts of the wilds, and these the Green-elves bade carry messages or burdens, or sometimes riders when needful. Even as elf-children, he and Faethurin had tamed and ridden fawns and piglets, and as they grew in years (and stature) they mastered the hart and the hind, the wolf and even the wild boar. But most swine were too low to the ground for a full-grown Elf to ride and their bristled manes brought such discomfort that a saddle was needed, therefore the tall elk was commonly chosen by his kinfolk.

   But no boar of Harlindon that Feveren had ever seen could match the great beast that stood before him now, its huge head raised toward him and its hooves planted firmly in the mould. Wrath was kindled in its small deep-set eyes and its snout worked to and fro between its fierce tusks, but the creature was silent in its regard for the intruder. Its quivering muscled shoulders stood level with the young elf's breast and the mane along its broad humped back, stiff with alarm, was well-nigh the height of his chin. To his eyes the huge beast's girth seemed more that of a bear than a boar!
   But he knew that for all their bulk wild boars were swift in short sprints and did not soon tire on long runs across country, and that they were proof against snakebites, which were useful virtues in a forest steed. And there was little defence against their charging tusks, nor were they hindered by rugged terrain. In his thought he reckoned that this beast would be a mighty ally if he could win its trust and friendship.
   He knew also that that swine had very keen minds.

   Feveren gently reached out with his thought, and in the hot red fog of the mind of the boar he could read its dismay at finding a stranger at its wallowing place of yesteryear. It was the elf-lad's good fortune that it was Spring and not the time for rutting, and the beast was more startled than vicious. Feveren's breaths became deep and even, and with each he breathed out his thought as a cool silver mist into the red mind of the boar, and slowly it paled to a rosy pink, then to mellow yellow; Feveren began to softly sing a song of trust and friendship.
   Now he perceived its heart was at peace and the wrath in its eyes had dimmed. With a grunt, the boar tossed its mighty head and stamped a hoof on the soft forest floor, then it looked away and lowered its head. Feveren reached out and placed the palm of his hand upon its hairy brow, and pictured in his mind the beast bearing him upon its back; beneath his hand the beast bobbed its head up and down as if in accord, and the young Elf laughed. In the branches above his head, amidst the first green leaves of spring, a sparrow chirped gaily. And the thought came to him that it was a strange chance, if chance it was, that when his mind had dwelt upon the finding of a steed to bear him abroad, this wild boar had appeared unlooked-for from within the thick undergrowth as if summoned by his thought.

   Lightly he sprang up and mounted its broad back. His legs were spread wide astride and gave his knees no hold, and the stiff mane along the boar's spine scratched uncomfortably; a saddle would indeed be needed if he wished to stay fixed atop its back, and -- he was loath to admit --  a bridle and reins also. (These, he hoped, might be fashioned by Colchyl, the stable-master in Duillond.) But for now it was enough that the beast would abide a rider without distress, and when he probed its mind he found no alarm nor ill will toward him. Feveren laughed again and resumed his song while the boar waved its tail to and fro. Thus emboldened, the elf-lad nudged the wild pig with his heels and it began to trot up the grass-covered slope, wending its way deftly between the tree trunks.
   Bumping up and down on the bristled mane soon ended Feveren's song, and when the boar suddenly hurdled an old log he found himself sprawled on his back upon the ground. The twittering voice of the sparrow sounded like merry laughter to his ears, and it seemed to him that the bird had followed him to mark his headway.
   'Aye,' he thought as he lay and watched the sunlight flicker through the fluttering leaves above, 'though it grieves my heart, a saddle and reins is needful!' The beast, he was glad to see, had not taken the chance to make good its escape, and was indeed snuffling his hand with its soft snout. It tickled. Aloud he said, 'Alas, I am not as sure-footed as you!' The huge creature grunted in reply.
   'I give my thanks to you, mighty pig,' said Feveren sitting up with a grin and scratching its hairy chin, 'but we have much to do ere we travel any place together. First, you need naming, and then we must enquire about the making of your gear. What say you?'
   The wild boar gave another grunt, and peered past Feveren's face into the boughs above. Now the elf-lad knew these creatures trusted their noses and ears above all, for their sight was poor, but naught could he hear with his elven-ears save for the singing sparrow amid the rustling leaves, and the soft murmur of the flowing river-waters behind. His eyes followed the boar's gaze and he looked up into the green roof, and there he descried the small bird; no longer was it singing, but from its perch among the first leaves of spring it regarded him with a keen black eye. Suddenly it fluttered down and alighted upon the pig's broad head, and began to chirrup in earnest. Feveren hearkened carefully to its piping voice.
   'You are a friend of the boar?' he asked, and the sparrow ruffled its feathers and warbled at him. 'O! I see now!' he said, 'The boar is to be my friend, and you are but its guide! Whence come you, little one, to bring me such a hardy friend?' The bird answered with a long trill, and the young Green-elf laughed. 'So my mother and father sent messages to their wild woodland friends, and set the birds and beasts to watch over me? I should have guessed they might!'
   The sparrow chirped merrily, and the elf-lad replied, 'And you are my friend also? I would be glad to share your company upon my road, for how could I go astray with two such fine and faithful companions!' The boar grunted and the bird shook its wings and flew to sit upon his shoulder.
   'Pedweg I shall call you,' he told it, as he stroked its little feathered head. 'And you, my friend,' he said to the wild pig, 'What say you to the name Gronnor, for you are no small beast? The beast squealed and tossed its great head. 'Nay?' said the young Elf, and he patted its hard muscled shoulder. 'Then what of Gondrenor, for indeed you seem fashioned of stone!' Another squeal. 'Or Bathron, perhaps, for naught can withstand your doughty legs and keen hooves?'
   Now the voice of the sparrow warbled once more. 'Verily?' asked Feveren in delight. 'Then so shall I also call him, but Gwedal in the manner of my people.' Again the small bird chirruped and the young Elf smiled. 'Indeed, then perhaps instead you might like Glavror? That is in the Lindi tongue!' Bird and beast both made glad sounds of assent, and Feveren clapped his hands in mirth.
   'Then let us fare forth ere the day fades!' he cried, and boy, beast, and bird set out for Duillond to seek the aid of Colchyl at the stableyard.

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