A few minutes later, the sound of galloping hooves could be heard, and when Olran stepped outside of the cave, a wonder awaited him. An entire herd of horses from the Blessed Realms, horses that usually ran and grazed in the Goddess’ pastures, thundered up to the entrance and halted, milling nervously. Olran glanced at the Goddess, who smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to walk among them, which he did so gladly. There were blacks, browns, bays, sorrels, roans, horses with silver and golden hides, and even painted horses, with mottled patches of white and brown, black or grey. With sensitive fingers, he brushed their soft coats and felt their manes and tails whisk by him. Their eyes held intelligence and emotions, and Olran was momentarily overcome by the experience, a single tear running down his face.
“Oh, My Lady Epona,” he breathed softly, not wanting to startle them. “I shall not waste their labor, I assure ye.”
“Of course not,” She laughed. “Ye should put that on now, while they are here.”
Olran noted the medallion’s weight in his hand; it seemed very light as he put the chain around his neck and tucked it into his shirt, next to his skin. The medallion warmed quickly and seemed to radiate an ambient heat, which was soothing to him. “My Lady, ye have given me something very special, and I shall not forget.”
Once he wore the medallion, Epona turned to the herd and made a dismissive gesture. As fast as thought, they sped away and disappeared, leaving the young man in a state of wonder. The two of them walked back into the cave, and Epona turned to him with a gentle smile.
“Ye are very special, Olran of Camelot. Ye simply have no idea just how truly special ye are. Be well, and take good care of both yerself, and yer ally. All of the Lady’s people depend upon ye.”
“Aye, my Lady,” Olran answered, and the words seemed very profound to him. She disappeared then in a shower of silver sparks, which hit the floor of the cave and cooled into drops of pure silver. Olran was certain to gather them all and put them into a deerskin pouch, meaning to give them to Vivaine at some point. Such material should be used for sacred purposes; he thought to himself as he tucked the pouch into his saddlebags. Returning to his campfire, he found that his biscuits were perfectly baked and that the stew in the pot was ready. It did not take him long to consume his portion and swing the pot back over the fire to leave it to bubble all night long. Afterward, he was very tired and made up his pallet next to the fire, sleeping very well for the first time in days.
Two days later, Olran rode back into the forecourt of Camelot, passing Gwenhyfar’s party on the road and wishing her a very happy Solstice, despite her cursing him for it. Once he was inside the walls, he felt at home again, and after stashing his mount in the stable, he walked up to the castle and entered, finding everyone looking tired and spent. It didn’t take long for him to be acquainted with the details of Gwenhyfar’s reaction to the Solstice Celebration being held at all, something that Olran laughed long and loud about.
“She actually left the supper table and refused to return,” Aaronn finished the tale, nearly falling from his chair he was laughing so hard.
“So much the better, I would imagine the meal and decorating party was much more fun without her dour and prudish self about!” Olran laughed. The others he was talking to walked off then, and Aaronn motioned for his friend to join him.
“Feeling better?”
“Aye, always after being in Ceridwen’s wood!” Olran laughed. “I hope ye were serious about allowing me to participate in missions now. It seems that even the Goddess of Horses is our ally in this work!”
“I am not surprised, my friend,” Aaronn laughed as they reached the door to their room. “After all, ‘tis the Goddess’ will we do, aye?”
“Always.”
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