A Horse By Any Other Name

It was a dark and stormy knight that crashed through the door of the dispatch station, the storm on his heels.

Dark he was, Sir Otello the Blackamoor, the King's sworn companion since the Saracen war, and as stormy as the sky silhouetting him in the doorway. "Ho" he yelled above the wind "A horse, in the King's name, a horse!"

Beren looked at his companions and realized they were all looking at him. Well, he'd wanted to be sergeant-at-arms, hadn't he? Taking a deep breath, he stood and bowed.

"A thousand apologies, my Lord, but no fresh horses have been provided since the King entered Estina with his army. Our last horse was taken by a King's messenger not three hours since." Forestalling the protest, he hurried on "And that messenger's horse has thrown a shoe, and is lame. She may yet have to be rendered."

"And the previous rider's horse?" demanded Otello.

"Dead, m'lud, much like your poor nag."

"It is imperative that I reach the Lord Chancellor with all haste!" yelled Sir Otello "I charge you in the name of the King to devote all your energies to finding me a mount."

"I shall see if the lame horse has recovered, m'lud" replied Beren, knowing full well there was no point, but hoping the knight would be calmer when he returned.

The stable under the guardroom could be entered via a hatch in the floor, but smell meant they kept it closed as much as possible. He climbed down, lowering the heavy wooden hatch behind and leaving himself in the dark. Resting for a second, he sensed something massive shuffling in the shadows. He heard a low growl, and despite himself, felt fear.

Moving slowly, he said carefully "There Kensie, good boy, it's me, Beren".

Teasing a piece of jerky from his pouch he gingerly held it out to the ravenous darkness, poised to withdraw his hand quickly. The jerky was torn from his grasp and he felt hot breath on his hand.

To the sounds of gnawing, he slipped out tinder and struck a spark to it. There, in the sputtering flame, he could pick out Kensie, the barely tame wolfhound that helped protect the barn. The creature's great bulk shook as it gnawed at the tiny morsel.

Beren smirked as an idea dawned. Some minutes later, Beren lifted the hatch and cried "Sir Otello, I have a mount for you!"

"So" grinned Sir Otello dangerously "It seems our sergeant was holding out on us. Let see what you have for me"

"There my Lord!" cried Beren, proudly indicating the huge wolfhound below in the stable as it pulled on the bridle he had struggled to fit upon it.

Incredulously, Sir Otello stared at the huge hairy beast.

"What? " roared the dark and now far stormier knight.

"You would dare to send a knight out on a dog like this?"