If Aragorn felt trapped by this city, he suspected the feeling was tenfold for Brego. Despite what others in Rohan might have thought after the death of Theodred, Brego was a well behaved horse, and even in restlessness he never gave Aragorn any trouble. Still, he could see it in the horse anyway, how frustrated he was to be cooped up in the stables when not so long ago he had free reign of the Mark.

The best that Aragorn could offer was to ride him through the countryside as often as possible. It was a release for them both, a way of pretending they were out in the wild with hardly a road in front of them, rather than the stifling feeling of the city. He knew that even back home he would have had to give up his lifestyle as a Ranger in order to ascend the throne of Gondor, but it was yet more difficult knowing he could not leave this city even for a moment.

The man who admired Brego as Aragorn led him back into his stall was not someone he had seen at the stable before, but he inclined his head in welcome all the same. "He is a horse bred for kings," Aragorn told him, casting Brego a fond smile. It was not vanity; Brego had been Theodred's horse long before Aragorn met him. "He arrived in this city with me, for which I am grateful but he is less so."