The Brink - The History of Galadriel

The large stallion watched over his mate, her soft white frame so pale in the moonlight. Next to her rested a small painted filly still so new to the world. This was his family, the reason he worked so hard for the Silver Lakes - it was so they were safe, so they were happy. He could not imagine what life would be like without them; it was a world he did not care to know. Times were strange these days, strangers parading into his land and calling themselves Northerners, referring to the one called 'Arianah' as their Queen when it was so clearly Liora. Could they not see the way things worked here? He hoped for the sake of Arianah that she was not planning a coup - there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Liora. He wondered briefly if he could give Elyria the task of talking to the new mares, of figuring out their motives and bringing peace back to the herd. She was clever that way.

A cool breeze brushed over the rolling hills and across the large lake, his thoughts almost troubled. The other herds were getting restless especially with the sudden influx of strangers who seemed to be questioning everything. He stood at the lake’s shore, looking out as stars shined in the clear surface. He didn’t hear the small child get up, her movements as graceful as her mother's.

"Daddy? Is everything okay?" She asked, brushing up against his long legs. Curving his neck downward, Brighton smiled at his daughter. She had a way of making things better, of bringing light and happiness to even the darkest of situations. "Of course it is, my child." Extending his neck down, he nudged the filly, his mind filling with the scent of her mother. She was so like her already, but was still a product of the peaceful and loving environment he struggled to maintain. "Go back to sleep now, we can play in the morning." He said, leading her back to the sleeping form of his mate. "Goodnight, my little Galadriel."