#YouCannotCatchMeMortal

[ponies-before-prophecies]

If you could turn into a pony for a day, would you? And what would be your first act of chaos?

Turn into a pony for a day? Oh, Eru preserve us all, because I would be unstoppable.

First, I would seek out Lindir immediately—not to alarm him, of course, but simply to witness the precise moment his soul leaves his body as he realizes his scribe has been turned into a small, hoofed menace.

I imagine there would be quite a bit of horrified blinking. Perhaps a tremor in his hands. A sharp, whispered, “No.”

Then, I would proceed with tactical mischief.

Would I steal Glorfindel’s gloves and bury them somewhere absolutely inconvenient? Yes.

Would I bite the edge of Elrond’s robes, just lightly, just enough to assert my new equine dominance? Also yes.

Would I refuse to be caught, galloping through Rivendell at speeds unknown to Elf-kind? Yes.

I would abuse the sheer power of being adorable and fast.

If anyone attempted to bribe me with apples, I would inspect them dramatically before deciding whether or not they were worthy of my refined pony palate. If they were insufficient, I would snort in disappointment and knock the fruit over with a single hoof.

Would I allow Lindir to catch me, eventually, if he offered a soft-spoken plea and held out a carrot? …Yes. Probably. But only after a full day of chaos.