Garbh?n stands hunched beside his horse, a chestnut mare with a black mane. He faces the rear of the animal, with his mount's front foot trapped between his knees. In one mud-crusted hand he holds a flat piece of wood (which looks like a wide tongue depressor), which he uses to scrape away mud from the horse's shoe.
Without looking up, Garbh?n replies "That horse's name is 'Oh, Lolly Her'. 'Tis a sylvan name, I suppose." Garbh?n has mispronounced the elven word "Eu'lau'li'ir", which loosely translates to "Feet That Skip Over the Vines." He continues to talk while his attention is focused on digging mud from the horse's foot. "His owner is a sylvan named 'Geyora' or 'Gyorya'. He is stationed upwards along the tree line there," he says, slightly gesturing with his head to the cliffs.
Garbh?n grunts as he digs the last bit of mud from the horse's foot, and straightens up, keeping the foot tucked between his knees. He turns slightly to see Erin standing before his horse. "And I am quite serious about my words, lass," he adds somberly. "If he takes the notion to his head, he will jump the rail and follow you." He glances at the horse next to his, the one that Erin had just fed apple scraps. "The bugger has hopped out twice last week, so I hear."
