Dear Journal,
Farfnir's fallen lame yet again. He's twisted a hoof in the past, but now? Far worse. Before it was just a few suns in the stable, taking it easy, eating his lentils and stinking up the air with his arse-essence.
Now? There's two wooden shafts that adorn his right front leg bound together with wraps of thick cotton keeping him aloft. I am not sure what he tripped upon, but the chirurgeon tells me the break will take a while to heal, if at all. They've cast some magics on his poor wee self, so at least he's not suffering in pain. But the bone must set and mend.
Only the best lentils and straw for him right now. THE BEST LENTILS! He may be trussed up in the splint for a moon? Mayhap more. And, if he does fully recover I've been instructed that he'd not be fit to hold my weight. Or any other. His days as a mount are done...
So, a stable-bound boy he is. Mayhap some sanctuary somewhere where he could roam free and enjoy endless lentils and peace? Ah, retirement. And what if he doesn't recover? What if he falls prey to infection or just a broken, bored heart? Nay. It is far too soon to think of such.
Farfnir. My beloved antelope. He served me well for so long. And now 'tis my turn to serve him. Lentils. Forever.
PS - don't tell Farfnir, but Popoto has already adjusted to the saddle and has proven quite speedy a mount. And far less smelly...
...
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