I was up with the dawn, as usual, the next morning.  Early rising was a practice I’d picked up as a soldier and had never been able to shake (over a few thousand years a habit quickly tranforms into a lifestyle).  After liberating a few apples from the kitchen, I walked to Elrond’s stables to greet Asfaloth.  Naturally, I’d owned innumerable horses over the years, but Asfaloth was one of my favorites.  He nickered softly as I opened the stable doors.  However, that touching sound was not for myself. Greedy creature that he was, Asfaloth only had eyes for the two large, red apples in my hands.  (I’d stolen three, but an elven lord has to eat, too.)  Passing the other stalls, most of which held Elrond’s carefully selected brood mares, I patted and spoke to each.  At the end of the barn, Asfaloth tossed his head repeatedly and made high, whinnying sounds to indicate his impatience.  I pretended to ignore him, talking sweetly an old chestnut mare of Erestor’s. 

Clunk! An iron-shod hoof hit the front door of the stall in exasperation. Deigning to look up, I laughed at the expression on my old friend’s face.  Ears pinned, Asfaloth glared at me and pawed at the wood again. 

“You live in astonishing hardship, my friend.  How do you survive?”

 I soon reached the door to Asfaloth’s stall, careful to remain out of the limits of his grasping teeth, a lesson I’d only needed to learn once.  He stretched his small head towards my arms, and towards the apples.  His nostrils quivered.  Brown eyes fixed on the fruit; he nickered again.   

“Tell me, where do you think young Master Gamgee will be this morning?” The horse shot me a look of pure indifference.  He wanted his treat. 

“I wager that he will be in the garden, waiting till his master rises to fetch breakfast.  Do you agree?”  Teasing this horse was one of the highlights of my morning. 

Asfaloth snorted, and bobbed his head rapidly up and down.  I bit my lip to hold back the laughter bubbling up in my chest.  He looked ridiculous. 

“Well, since you agree, then I suppose that’s the end of the matter.  Such a wise horse cannot be argued with.”

Finally relenting, I held out one of the apples and stepped within his range, my hand held flat so that my horse would not snap off my fingers in his greed.  I’d never hear the end of it if Asfaloth did such a thing.  Imagine, Glorfindel of the Six Fingers. Sour-faced Elrond would be giggling like an elf maiden all the way to Valinor.

Snaking his head out, Asfaloth opened his mouth wide and Whoosh! Crunch! the apple was gone.  I fed him the other without ceremony, as always half-expecting him to choke, as he seemed to swallow almost without chewing.

 Flipping the latch to his door, I opened it and began to walk to back through the barn.  After a moment’s search to make sure he hadn’t dropped anything, Asfaloth followed.  I waited in the weak sunshine just outside the stable. 

“Come, come!  Quit flirting with those mares!”  It was a daily annoyance, that I’m sure was the payback for my teasing, but Asfaloth took his time exiting the stable.  He touched noses to each of the mares and danced briefly in the aisle for them, tossing his forelock out of his eyes and swishing his long tail. 

“Yes!  You are a very attractive horse!  Now come!  I do have things to do today, you ungrateful creature!”   

Pointedly ignoring me, Asfaloth trotted out into the open, head high and tail flagging.  He arrogantly tipped his nose to look down at me as I was forced to walk over to where he had stopped.  He sniffed in disdain as I grabbed a hunk of mane and swung myself aboard. 

It was a short, harrowing ride to the pasture.  Asfaloth had pretended to spook often, making giant sideways leaps and breaking suddenly into his swiftest gallop only to slam to a halt an instant later. Other elves may mock me for normally riding with a saddle, but they do not ride Asfaloth.  I have never found a more exasperating, challenging mount.   If a he were an elf, Asfaloth would have been weak and clutching his sides with laughter as I slid to the ground at the gate, and opened it with a sarcastic flourish. 

“Worthless.” I muttered as he cantered away, self-satisfied, with not a spook or bolt to be seen.  I glanced at the sun; it had just begun to rise above the tree line.  Perhaps I could soon find Samwise in the garden.