After the Fight (Lord Fehderer)

It was a quiet afternoon in the Greengrove upon their return. “Go freshen up, my Lady, and I will do the same, then join me for an evening stroll and a night in my den?” Lady Arai nodded happily and went to find a hoofmaiden, giving him a lick on the cheek and a gentle reminder to get his shoulder cleaned and treated. As if he needed a suggestion for that. Already each step sent irritation coursing through him. Reckless beast, he growled inwardly as he thought of the careless stag who had given it to him. It would have meant little to Dondry most likely, he was young and strong. His injuries healed quickly. Fehderer was getting to the point when his body could not work as quick as it used to however, and wounds and sores would linger longer than he was used to.

Dondry may also have a Princess, or may soon be betrothed. With a betrothed by your side, injuries were of little consequence. With her gentle magic she could heal them right up for you. Fehderer had never been blessed with such a companion, however. It was something he reflected on very often. And it truly hurt him, more than any injury, that he could go his long life as a Glenmore Lord without a Princess to call his own. The King misliked him, it must be… or perhaps it was his lack of participating in the celebrations during and after King Rafe’s crowning in the Tournament of Kings. His beloved Lady Elara had been sick and dying and then dead at that point, though. Lord Fehderer had not the time nor the heart to participate in such affairs as his world fell apart… it seemed his love for the Lady would haunt him long after her death. In every injury, in every lonely night, and each stroll through Glenmore without a glowing doe by his side.

“Oh! My Lord is wounded!” Fehderer was jolted back to the present by his hoofmaiden and first ever doe, Venna. She rushed to his side, a young undermaiden at her side.

Fehderer dipped his antlered head at her, “Good day, Venna...” he gave an additional nod to the younger female though he had forgotten her name. She had recently entered his service as an apprentice under Venna.

“Hersley, my Lord, good day.” she answered shyly with a deep bow. She was a young and pale little thing, with soft brown eyes and a skimpy yet neatly kept mane.

“Where would you like to dress? In your den, or…” Venna asked, looking around.

“By the river in the clearing,” Fehder said, brushing past his two staff members to the side of his Glade bordered by the tumbling clear water. He still was cooling down from his fight, and didn’t feel like being stuffed in his den right now (though his den was truly quite spacious and indeed had a side against the river as well). He settled down in the dull grass in a quite corner of the Greengrove, facing the Glade clearing with his back to the river so he could watch the comings and goings. He used his his magic to make the long autumn grass green and lush so it would be more comfortable to lay in. He did the same for the area all around him, so the two hoofmaidens who trailed after him would also have a comfortable place to rest as they worked. Venna gathered some moss and used it to dip into the river, then she settled at her Lord’s side and used the moss to gently begin cleaning his wound.

“Will herbs be necessary?” Fehderer asked her. He could grow some healing herbs, if the wound was in need of them. He couldn’t much tell himself, he was not adept in that sort of thing for he never paid it any mind. Healing was does’ work. Venna, after all her years taking care of him, would know better.

“Perhaps, Lord Fehderer. Or at least, it would heal quicker with them,” Venna answered gently. Hersley went to work with a magic-made wooden comb, delicately working it through Fehderer’s tangled mane. He liked the feeling of the dull teeth rubbing through his hair. With her diligence his mane would soon become straight and smooth again.

He tried to focus on the feeling of the comb instead of his irritation at needing to use his magic when all he wanted to do was rest, and then he closed his eyes with a deep exhale. Within the deep green sprang several herbs that bloomed with yellow flowers. That was the one best for wounds, he believed. Venna picked them without a word, which confirmed to Fehderer that they were in fact the correct herbs.

With his hoofmaidens gentle tending his needs, Fehderer sighed, settling deeper into his grassy bed, using magic to make the grasses longer and softer still. “Those young ones get stronger every year.” he finally confided in Venna. “The one I fought today nearly knocked me into the river!" By now Venna had prepared the healing herbs and was holding the wet wad against his shoulder. The cold sensation was soothing a bit, but it stung, and yet again his mind drifted to how he wished he had a princess to return to, who could comfort him with her healing touch, instead of commoner with a mound of wet moss (however much he truly did love Venna). But of course he did not, so he had no choice but to just deal with the pain. At least he was mostly at ease. The autumn afternoon was comfortably cool, just how the dark Lord liked it. The perfect night for a walk with Lady Arai.

"But he didn't," Venna pointed out with a smile through the moss, pulling away from her work cleaning his wound for a moment. "You fought him off in the end, and Lady Arai isn't going anywhere." She gave her stag a nuzzle. Lady Arai had been in Lord Fehderer's herd for most of his life. Even if Venna was right and he had come out on top, he hated to know that he had almost lost her. And feared that a year may come where he would.

A jolt of pain in his neck made Lord Fehderer grunt out loud. The comb of young Hersley had caught in a tangle of his mane, and she had run the brush slightly too harshly against it, causing it to snag and yank accidentally. Fehderer jerked his huge head to her, causing her to recoil in fear with a startled whine. She lost her grip on the wooden comb and it fell from her mouth, thumping softly to the ground. Anger flashed in his eyes as he regarded the frightened filly. Already irritated from the pain in his shoulder (and even with not) Fehderer had little patience for rough treatment from one of his staff. "Gentle, girl!" Fehder snapped at her. His dark eyes darted to his trusted hoofmaiden, who had paused her own work at the disruption, "For Óganach's sake, Venna, where do you get these fillies? She has a touch rougher than a rutting stag!" He glared at the pale filly again. She had her head ducked in shame and her shoulders hunched. She looked about ready to cry. Fehder looked back at Venna, expecting an explanation.

Venna averted her gaze uncomfortably, "Please, Lord Fehderer, she's still only learning." Her voice was gentle, apologetic.

Fehderer paused, frowning as his brown eyes flicked from Venna to where Hersley was still in a huddled bow of shame. Finally he heaved a sigh, letting his anger melt as a tinge of guilt for his outburst replaced it. "Ah- no, forgive me, miss Hersley. I've simply had a long day. Please, continue." He used the end of his long tail to tap her chin up softly, so she would meet his gaze. He nodded to reassert his apology and check on her, even giving the young commoner the ghost of a smile.

Timidly, Hersley returned the smile. Still uncertain, however, she shot a look at Venna. Venna gave her an encouraging blink, gesturing with her head toward the comb on the ground. Hersley picked up her tool and stepped close to the huge Lord again to resume her task. Fehderer noticed she moved much slower this time. He wasn’t sure whether he liked it more or less. She was much less likely to yank his hair on accident, but she may take a moon’s turn to get the job done! He didn’t say anything this time, though. Best not destroy the girl’s confidence so early in her career. After all, Venna did have a good eye for youngsters, despite his harsh words earlier.

Venna had returned her compress onto Lord Fehderer’s wound and normalcy resumed.

The dark Lord paused a long moment, just listening to the breeze and sound of Greengrove residence bustling about and the whisper of that wooden comb through his mane. Finally he broke the silence. "How is it that every summer seems hotter, every winter less beautiful? And every fight more taxing, even against those who have no business challenging the likes of me. It must be that I'm getting old," he grumbled.

Venna laughed softly through her herbs in return, lifting her head to answer. "We both are getting older, my Lord. But not too old. We have many good years ahead, Gods be good." Fehder didn't react to her words, but internally he appreciated her optimism. He reflected for a moment about Venna, his very first doe. She had been in his harem since his first rut at the age of merely five years. So so many years ago... and each of those years, Venna has been a source of comfort for him, a constant friend. His first son even was out of her.

Despite that, today Lord Fehderer was not in the mood to be consoled so easily. "Sometimes, Venna..." he went on sullenly, his mind drifting to a certain doe, long lost to him. Oh why did his mind still go to her. Even after all these years. How young they had been… how much it still hurt that she wasn’t by his side now. Even a Princess would pale compared to her. "I wonder what truly good Gods would do with me." It was strange how much he thought of her, when he stepped back to examine his feelings, since several years ago he had come to realize that he barely even remembered what she had looked like, or what had she sounded like.

Venna didn't answer his words. She had put down her herbs, having already sensed her Lord’s mind wandering to dark places and done with her treatment besides, and she simply rested her head against his thick mane, offering silent support to her old friend.

Fehderer paused for a long moment, choosing to focus on the feeling of Hersley’s comb as she ran it through his mane, which already was returning to its glossy black luster. It didn’t take long for Lord Fehderer’s hooves to grow restless however. As they always did after a time. He was done with sitting here. He used his tail to tap Hersley and Venna to indicate for them to back up a bit. They both did so as their Lord rose to his hooves, now towering over them both. He looked across the Foyer to where Lady Arai was already freshened up and trotting toward the Garden. Fehder assumed she would wait for him among the flowers. He was ready to go himself, though, so she wouldn’t be waiting for long. “Come Venna. And you, Hersley. You will both join Lady Arai and I on our stroll." He knew Lady Arai wouldn’t mind. Lord Fehderer had blocked out the evening and night for only Lady Arai, so surely she would be happy for some company to start. She and Venna were very close friends after all, and he himself wanted to make up with Miss Hersley. She was an obedient young one and he shouldn't have snapped at her as he did. Especially mere days after joining his service to train under Venna. Whether she grew to be another of his hoofmaidens, or the hoofmaiden of another Lord, Lady, or Princess, Lord Fehderer would not have her living in fear on his account.

Hersley seemed overjoyed at the aspect of leaving the glade to socialize with other herd members, and spend leisure time with her Lord and Glade-sisters. Fehder gave her a smile, small and assuring. The undermaiden already seemed to have her spirits back. With that Lord Fehderer stretched, shook himself, and took the lead toward Lady Arai, who was waiting for them. Then the small group made their way into the late afternoon forest.