Frost (m/m)

Chapter 6

Haomath was a strong and fast warrior.

Henry could barely keep up with him.

They were riding inside the woods. The trees were different from the south ones, they were sparse and dried, so it was easy for him to see and follow the big man. Henry sensed a night in these woods wouldn't be so easy. His horse was tall - Haomath had to help him to mount it - but it definitely felt safer. He did have to rearrange himself on it all the time, and Henry was feeling cold in his fur cape, but didn't wanted to whine. Therefore, it wasn't a particularly comfortable ride he was having. He could definitely see himself having a nap inside the castle right now, and was having second thoughts about the whole hunting thing.

It seemed Haomath was forgetting that he was riding with Henry and not one of his soldiers. Now and then, the man turned to see how far back he was and his mouth twitched up in a sort of smile as he patiently waited for him to catch up. Henry had the feeling he was being mocked, but he ignored it.

They were completely alone, no servant nor guard accompanying them, and Henry thought that was weird. Surely it was dangerous for the king to go hunt alone. Henry himself wasn't that important but even he was always being escorted by a guard outside his castle.

Haomath started to slow down his pace and Henry saw the dry scary bare trees that he loved so much disappear one by one. He could hear water movements from afar and soon enough, they walked into clearing where the ground nestled the big, long stream of a river.

"Halt." Haomath barked in a loud tone and Henry scowled at his back and huffed loudly. What a bad habit of barking. The king turned to him in confusion and scanned his face.

"Halt... ?," he said again, this time softer. Henry smiled amused.

"Okay."

He jumped of the horse in one skilled movement that he was very proud of, thankful for not being very heavy. He was ready to hunt some wild boars or better yet, wild wolves.

Haomath unmounted too, slower, and unlatched his thick coat. He dropped it over the horse's saddle and Henry could see that his torso now was protected only by a thin, faded white shirt that stretched over his bulky muscles, but didn't seem to do anything to fight the cold. Perhaps is the Giant's blood, Henry though, more willing to believe in Ligia's tales as the time passed. Once settled, Haomath opened a bag that was connected with the saddle of the horse. Henry could already see it was a bow.

But when he brought it closer, he saw that it wasn't just any bow.

"Oh, Gods."

Haomath passed the bow to his hands and he gazed at it, awed at the beautiful carvings on it, tracing it with his fingertips. It had metal, but it was still very light. It was shorter than a longbow, but only slightly and it had Henry's family name carved in the metal part. It was the most beautiful bow he had even seen.

Feeling his heartbeat increase in excitement he stood on his tiptoes and, without thinking, did a very common thing in Mithlond when one received a gift. He took the king's face in both hands and brought it down slightly to kiss both his cheeks. He was surprised at how easy it came the physical contact. Haomath was still, as if thinking that any abrupt movement may scared Henry away.

"Thank you," he said, and turned to examine the bow better. He heard Haomath clearing his throat, and turned to him. He was pointing at the river.

Henry looked closer, walking up to the border of the stream, and saw that small silver fishes were jumping up and down the river. The bigger ones were on the bottom. Haomath brought with him a quiver that was as beautiful as the bow, but Henry spent less time looking at it, quickly taking an offered arrow.