๐ง๐ค๐๐ฆ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ฎ๐ฒ๐๐ป
There once was an elf by the name of Beirand, who set out on a journey to a distant land.
Thirteen days he rode, no rest did he take, โtil a nymphโs abode he entered, โside a lake.
โLook there, Narya!โ Came a cry of glee, โDo thee spy that yonder apple tree?โ
The response, a neigh, she jumped with delight, then off she skipped in a canter spright.
Not a moment passed โere a gusting blast, blew all around, an airy voice cast:
โHold there, thee elf, this grove is mine โ no fruit shall I yield you, nor your equine.โ
Next came the reply, โPlease grant us respite. Long have we travelโd; surely see thee our plight!โ
โFatigue, I perceive, that is your case, but to earn my grace, letโs have a race.โ
To this, the rider did consent, and toward the tree, then off they went.
A howl, a rush, a flying gale, the wind left the rider back on its tail.
But in a flashing streak, a gallop sleek, horse and rider past the wind did barely squeak.
In augmented time, back and forth they sped, โtil at last, fleet elf arrived ahead.
โWell done,โ spake the spirit, as she blew in, โmy grace I shall grant thee and all of your kin.โ
Beirand and Narya thus took their leave, bearing evermore, the nymphโs reprieve.
The truth of this tale, one can only surmise, but doubtless, Outriders the fastest do comprise.