Nimue followed Maric to the paddock,<br/><br/>“Maric, I can ride a dragon, I can ride a horse.” She was protesting. If they went into a battle, she would have Layla anyway and she didn’t see that she would be fighting from dragon back.  He insisted that she cooperate and she did so with a sigh.<br/><br/>“Maric,” Nimue whined in a flirty little voice, “I really don’t think that…”<br/><br/>He tossed her in the saddle and handed her  his shiny silver sword. Nimue’s eyes went wide,<br/><br/>“This is your sword.” She said, eyes shining. “For me?” she held it out, the way he had trained her to test a blade. “it is straight and true. I can feel the balance.” She breathed. “This sword feels alive in my hands.You are really letting me use your sword?”<br/><br/>Maric turned a slight pink and Nimue’s mouth fell open.<br/><br/>“Who made this? Can you craft metal like this? Are you a master craftsman.? Oh, Maric,” Nimue hugged the blade, nicking her arm. The blood stained her sleeve.<br/><br/>“I forgot that this isn't  just an imitation. Oh, Maric,” Nimue went pale,<br/><br/>“What if I cut you with it when we practice when I get my own blade some day?”<br/><br/>Maric explained that she would continue to practice with the wooden sword but he would tie rocks to it so it would be even heavier than the real sword,<br/>“To build muscle,” he explained.<br/>And that she would practice thrusting and jabbing through a cow hide over some wooden lathes to simulate stabbing a man with this one..<br/><br/>Nimue solemnly saluted her husband and put the sword into the sheath she normally wore for her wooden sword. She nudged the Black to a trot and she compared his gait to the lurching of the dragon just before flight. They went around the paddock and Maric was shouting out instructions. Nimue was  remembering the flight home with Layla and felt this horse riding might be a little tame so she nudged the stallion into a gallop and sent him sailing over the fence rails. She could hear Maric shouting at the her to stop.<br/><br/>Galloping was akin to flying, the horse’s gait was smooth like water over stone. Feeling the rhythm, Nimue gathered her feet under her and drew herself into a crouch, holding lightly to the flowing mane.In one swift motion, she stood up, holding her arms out for balance. Maric came racing over the ground, screaming at her to stop this insanity. Nimue was entranced by the wind in her hair and eyes. She crossed her body to draw the sword, the chiming sound against the scabbard ringing in her ears.<br/><br/>Balancing with the sword in her hand was tricky and as the horse began to circle, she lost her footing. Nimue landed in a heap with the sword quivering in the earth next to her.<br/>Maric arrived, out of breath and angry. He gave her a hand up and yanked the sword free. Before Nimue could smooth out her gown , he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, whistled for the horse and stormed back to the cottage.