There will be scars; warship, diplomats, any

[Erebor]

We are at war. There will be scars.

His training as a warrior means that the boy notices most everything. It's especially easy in a place like this, where there's so little cover and so very much sun and silence. And so he sees when the cremello mare appears out of the pink sands, and he doesn't miss it when she falls – to quote, ass over teakettle – down into the pink. He watches impassively, politely, because that's simply how he is. He wouldn't think to laugh at anyone, let alone someone who may potentially be diplomat or dignitary.

He does not understand what it means when she seems to stop and look in his general direction for a longer than expected period of time. He hasn't entirely learned that he is handsome, in a solidly built, all-American kind of way. He doesn't understand the impact that such handsomeness can have on mares, how his smiles and his rigid diplomacy can tend to get him his way. Granted, he's learning, and he'll be quick to leverage it once he's learned, but for the time being he's still rather innocent.

His eyes widen ever so slightly when a strange creature arrives, picking up a stick and apparently enraging the cremello. He has never seen anything like the creature, and his bearing becomes instantly more military as it approaches. He is a tightly coiled spring, not in fear, but in readiness to react to whatever it (or the mare) might do. He fears nothing, but respects the power of things that come charging at him, however harmless they seem to be (and from the way this thing runs, it reminds him of a foal in a way, terribly harmless).

She is yelling as they go. He interprets that the thing he doesn't recognize must be named Gumby, although he can't quite figure out who George would be. The creature doesn't appear to be holding a horse, or anything that could otherwise have a name. He frowns slightly.

The creature arrives, sliding to a halt in front of the prince and depositing a stick at his feet. The boy looks between the stick and the creature, entirely nonplussed. What a strange place, he thinks, but doesn't betray anything but calm composure on his handsome face.

And if that weren't enough, there is suddenly another mare in the picture, appearing out of nowhere. He stiffens but does not startle; he knows that there are powers well beyond him in this world, and he doesn't question them. Much like with Gumby, he respects, but he does not fear.

The mare explains the situation, and the boy listens with quiet respect. He feels rather like Alice in Wonderland (minus the frilly dress), or like Dorothy in Oz, but he's far too polished at diplomacy now to truly let it faze him. Each kingdom has its own personality, he's learning, and why shouldn't they?

"Thank you, Camrynn." He nods to the black mare, before turning his attention to the others. "Girr." he speaks directly to the woman, his voice diplomatic. "I'll keep George safe for you. It appears that…Gumby" he hesitates slightly on the strange name "Really wants to take him for a ride again." he smiles at her then, a wry half-grin. Gumby barks, as though in agreement.

"I am indeed on diplomatic business from the Chamber." he says, turning back to the black mare. "My mother, Straia, is queen in the Chamber. She sends her regards and her congratulations to you and Pevensie." The competition for the Deserts throne was no secret, even though it had occurred long before he'd been born. His mother had told him about it, and told him to be sure to congratulate the winners. "How does the Deserts fare?" he asks then, looking between the black mare and the cremello, his voice deep and resonant, far more than his age should allow it to be.

Erebor

Native Prince of the Chamber

warship x straia