Author's Note: My first original, be nice. The story actually focuses on the mother of the character mentioned here. It starts here, then goes back and then comes here again. Fun, eh? All characters belong to me, as far as I know. Enjoy! Read and review!

An old black battle stallion shook his head, clearing his eyes of the graying mane hanging down onto his noble snout. He stood next to the western fence, gingerly choosing which grasses would be his next bite. This steed once had an important name, Wentzear, stallion and prized possession of the former Heir to the throne of Galenthair. Now he was known as Old Zear and had children poking at him with sticks if he ventured too close to the eastern fence of the paddock. The only people who could touch him were the stable boys who once took care of him, back in his colt days. And maybe his master's new prized possession.

This prized possession stood on the other end of the western fence, little riding boots on the bottom rung and arms crossed over the top. Her chin rested on her arms as she stared towards the old war-horse. Brow wrinkled in thought, she hopped down from the fence, her tangle of sporadic blonde braids jumping as she did so. She sat cross-legged on the ankle high grass and pulled a silver object from her boot.

She was Princess Seriaphin of Galenthair and Old Zear was her mother's horse. Old Zear had to be very old, Phin figured in her head. Her mother, Queen of Galenthair, had received Wentzear when he was a colt and she was Phin's age. Phin turned eleven last week. Phin's mother was thirty- one by now. That made Wentzear at least twenty years old. For a horse, he was up in his years. No wonder her mother had retired him to the countryside castle of Seriaphin, for which she was named.

Old Zear confused the young girl to no end. He was a battle steed, but ran skittishly away whenever the other children at the castle came near him. Phin he tolerated though. Perhaps because she reminded him of her mother. She reminded many people of her mother. The princess knew she had once ridden on Wentzear's back with her mother often, but that was long ago during the Great Strife and Phin didn't remember it. She couldn't even remember when the Queen had retired Wentzear here, or when he started to walk with the slight limp in his left foreleg.

Phin shook her head again, grabbing the nearby blood red apple. With the silver object she'd pulled from her boot, a small knife of made by the elves, she spilt the apple in half and then laid it on the ground. Spinning the knife around in her hand so she gripped the curved handle, as she'd seen Learthen do many times, she grabbed an apple half and stabbed it quickly. She flipped up the handle and the sharp blade appeared again, this time with a chunk of apple flesh resting on the cool metal. Her small hands nimbly picked up the apple and brought it to her lips, letting the cool apple juice refresh her as she chewed the crisp flesh. Phin removed the blade and stuck it in the ground next to her. Leaning against the fence, she studied the hilt of her knife. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, presented to her on her tenth birthday by Elpenor. Made of silver from the dwarf mines and stronger than any knife she'd ever owned, it was her prized possession, since she had no steed of her own, yet. Her mother was supposed to visit soon, and since the Queen received her first steed when she was eleven, Seriaphin expected one as well.

"Phin! Princess Seriaphin! Time to come in, your mother is here," a voice called in the distance. Phin gathered her things quickly, spared Old Zear one last look and ran towards the main castle.