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Not many people know it about him, but John had grown up on a farm. His adoptive mother had run one, a small plot of land in comparison to most, after his father had been killed in action and John doesn't always associate it with the happiest times of his young life, not after losing his father, but at the same time there are still good memories.

His mother had been happy, after all, as happy as he imagines she could have been, given their loss. And even as a child, that had meant the world to John, as he had often been focused on the happiness of others. That has never really changed, he's still like that, but with Carter's help over the years, he thinks he's gotten a little bit better at allowing himself some moments of happiness.

Which is why he finds himself at the stables every so often. He tends not to ride, because it's been years, but sometimes even just being in the company of the horses reminds him of his childhood, of a time when he was happier than he is now, and he thinks he's lucky to be able to experience that. After everything that's happened to him, it's certainly unexpected.

He's stroking along the flank of one horse in particular when he sees a man ride in with a beautiful horse and he wanders in their direction, admiring the animal. His mother would have known all the reasons why the horse was superior to others, but that's never been John's area of expertise. All he knows is the horse looks sleek and well fed and he offers a faint smile to the man.

"Beautiful horse," he says as he approaches. "Is he yours or are you just taking him out for a ride?"

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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."