The Black Stallion

Waking of Tuesday, January 1, 2019

The Black Stallion

It was the Rose Parade.

It was seeing all those danged beautiful horses with the luscious garlands of brilliant, colorful flowers hung all around their necks and flanks....

Augh.

I’d taken enough pictographs to somewhat flesh out my Compendium. I’d seen the animal section. There were horses, white horses, giant horses, donkeys, the Lord of the Mountain, stalhorses.... and I think that was it for the equines if you could count the Lord of the Mountain as an equine.

I knew I could register up to five horses, and I still had room for one more.... But it didn’t look like there were any more special horses to find, the one blank space yet to explore on my map notwithstanding.

I wanted a new horse.

I wanted a steed to wear my Extravagant Tack.

It was late, it was past my bedtime, and I had work in the morning, but.... I wanted to culminate the little zeitgeist I felt about it.... zeitgeistchen? Zeitgeistlein—I DON’T KNOW GERMAN.

I skimmed around my map. Where were there horses? I blinked as I realized it was never really something I took any special note of. I knew they could be found somewhat near to stables most of the time. And I knew where I’d seen that black one that one time....

It was the Valley of Terror then. Though the terror was all but gone for me, I think. If I did bump into the one decayed Guardian out in the field, I’d be able to take care of it.

I ran out to find the herd, but there were no all-black ones. A second herd grazed a bit to the north, but that one didn’t have any black ones either.

Where else could I warp? I really didn’t pay attention to where the horses were.... I’d always just stuck to talking to the people, waiting for clues about where the rare breeds roamed.

Those fields north of Jeddo Bridge looked promising, so I warped over to the Odyssean Sheem Dagoze Shrine, and started truckin’ it up the hill.

There were a couple of herds here as well, but again I could find no black ones.

From here I could think of nothing else but to warp back to the Ha Dahamar Shrine at the Dueling Peaks Stable, and again check the herds in the Valley of Terror. Their coats had changed upon the reload! But there were still no black ones.

I wanted a black one.

I bounced back and forth between these two fields for a while. It was most troublesome at night; it took a couple of incidents before I remembered to anticipate the dark with my Radiant Gear. That still didn’t stop the keese, though. And the dang Yigamen didn’t care what time of day it was.

At some point I added another field to search to my cycle: the Fural Plain just adjacent to the Highland Stable. I had been hesitant to go there because every previous visit to that place, at least via the road, had been plagued by that little troop of mounted Bokoblins. But it was the only other place I could think of that I was pretty sure had horses....

I was happy to discover this time, however, that the Bokoblins seemed to have gone! It had been quite a few Blood Moons since I’d cleaned them out.... but they hadn’t respawned. Huh. They reappeared in other get-rid-of-the-monsters sidequests—why hadn’t they reappeared here?

I didn’t know.

I was just happy to see them gone.

And happier to see that there were indeed horses here!

None of the ones I saw were black, though.

Poop.

I warped back and again, around and around, Ha Dahamar, Sheem Dagoze, Ka’o Makagh, Ha Dahamar, Sheem Dagoze, Ka’o Makagh....

I did this for so long—How else do you think I memorized these shrine names?

At some point I cut out the Sheem Dagoze Shrine, though. It was too long a jog to get to the horses; and the stal-creatures, keese and Yiga seemed to appear more frequently there.

So it was back and forth between the Valley of Terror and the Fural Plain. I saw reds, creams, greys, piebalds, skewbalds, appaloosas, gypsy cobs....

There!

There was a black one in the Fural Plain! But.... it had four white socks.

I chased it for a while, desperate. Had I only imagined that all-black horse before? No I hadn’t imagined it; it had kicked me in the face pretty hard. But had I imagined the color....?

I thought about just.... letting the socked horse suffice me. Maybe there were no all-black horses.... Just like there were no common all-white horses.

But....

No.

I kept warping.

And after a great, weary long time.... LO! There really was an all-black horse!

FINALLY!

It showed up on the Fural Plain on a sunny afternoon, and the flamerosy glow played havoc with my view of it through the scope—was it really black? Or was it a brown or a grey, only painted darker by a trick of the sun’s glare?

But I got closer and it was all black. There were subtle color variations on its muzzle and around its hooves.... but so were there for Memory. I didn’t think I’d find a blacker horse than this.

This chase was on.

The problem with the Fural Plain was that the grass, most of it, was remarkably short. This made sneaking up on the black horse deucedly difficult, especially as he had one other horse friend on the lookout with him. Several times I sent him trotting and galloping away into the boundaries of the field, many of which were comprised of sizeable stone cliffs. But it was a real fear of mine that the horse might come to an open spot and bolt down a road or somewhere leading out of the field. But I wasn’t sure how justified that fear really was.... Would the game keep it hemmed in?

I chased the horse for [game-] days, trying to maneuver it into one of the grassier spots where I could approach it more stealthily. The intermittent Yiga did not make things any easier.

But at great length I was finally able to mount the black stallion and soothe him into submission, whereupon I took him straight to the stable for to register him before anything else could happen.

I thought for a long time about his name. Jett? No, too literal. This was one of the harder conniptions I’d had over naming a steed! I wanted something strong-sounding, something ancient, something kingly, something like one of those archaic words that has a CH pronounced like a K....

Archeantus?

Mmm.... I didn’t even type it in. A strong name, but.... maybe not the strongest namesake.

Archibald?

That wasn’t a K sound....

I was just stuck on this Arch- usage....

Somehow in all the archaisms I swayed into the possibility of Oberon. Mmm, the deep vowels matched his coat and color.... and the reference matched the mystique of an all-black horse!

But I also thought of the name of Knight. Strong and royal to be sure.... though the pun was perhaps not as sophisticated.

I swiveled between these two for a while. Oberon and Knight. But Knight felt more alive, sharper, keener, and faster. Not so serious or reserved as Oberon. Or as wise-sounding, but that was okay.

Knight it was!

I rode him around the Fural Plain until his trust in me was such that I could alter his mane and other trappings. And back at the stable.... on went the Extravagant Tack.

....

Knight looked embarrassed in it, too.

Hmm.

I.... fiddled with it....

....

A look at Knight’s statistics showed me that he had.... four of five points in speed.

That was faster even than Memory.

Dang he was a fast horse. I could see the difference as I rode and spurred him into a gallop—how fast the land flew by around us!

Hah hah, he truly was a Knight!

I rode him to the Dueling Peaks Stable, just to get a look at him in motion in this momentary tack and mane-style....

And then I remembered upon arrival Uh, no mane-changers here.

So I rode to Outskirt, took him to the girl by the manger, and played with his mane some more....

“Oh my gosh you’re ridiculous, you spend three hours finding a horse and playing dress up with it. This is why I’m ahead of you in getting shrines.”

Beautiful lines from David.

In the end, I just stuck with the mohawk and the Extravagant Tack. The mohawk suited his wild temperament. And Knight could stand the Extravagant Tack. He could make up for the flamboyant red feather springing from his crown. He was the fastest horse in my team. And a glorious, powerful midnight black besides!

Knight could wear the Extravagant Tack with welcome challenge to any who scorned.

But a horse named Oberon would never have been able to abide it at all.

I rode to the Tabantha Bridge Stable.

I was ready.