Hello again, My Horse. I am so happy to see you, out here on this howling tundra which I just teleported to for some reason. The last time I saw you, you were in a stable outside a city hundreds of miles away. But with your perfect horse instinct, you knew where I would be the next time I needed a ride somewhere, and here you are. You are the best horse, My Horse.
You always try to fight my enemies for me, even when they’re a dragon or something. And then you get scared and run away. Sometimes you get in my way first, and I accidentally hit you and then the dragon sets me on fire while I’m trying to get you to stop standing in front of me. Then, after I kill it, I have to spend ten minutes running all over the place trying to find you again, and I want to hug you and tell you I’m sorry and you were a good horse for trying to help.
You never have a problem galloping all day, even when I’m maxed out on inventory. I didn’t go overboard on the Body slider but I am still pretty damn built with my shirt off, I figure with plate armor and all my weapons we’re talking 250 lbs at least. And I’m not even mentioning these other ten complete suits of armor which I looted off those bandits, and which I assume I folded up small and stuffed down my pants, because I don’t appear to have a backpack or pockets or anything. You don’t care. You are the strongest horse in the world.
So I try to make things as nice as possible for you, My Horse. When I leave you outside a city, I make sure I get right inside the stable before I dismount, so at least you’ll be under cover while you stand around for days until I need you again. I know this doesn’t mean a lot because it seems to snow right through the roof anyway, but maybe it helps a little.
I’m sorry I treat you the way I do. I’m sorry I never take your saddle off and I’m really, really sorry I never feed you. I’m glad you sometimes look like you’re eating grass when I leave you to stand around alone for weeks out in the wilderness, and I assume you drink from streams or puddles in places that aren’t covered in six feet of permafrost. Sometimes I’ll take one of these apples I keep finding in caves and drop it on the ground in front of you, in case you eat apples when I’m not there. Maybe when I’m in a city, you eat hay in the stables and somebody takes your saddle off and brushes you and everything. I hope so. Maybe you enjoy the company of your friends there, or even spend some quality time with a nice lady horse. Or a man horse. I admit I do not know which you are.
I want to be nicer to you, but I don’t have any option. I mean there literally isn’t any option besides Ride My Horse. But you seem to be okay with that, because you keep coming back. Unlike everybody else I hang out with, you never, ever Gets Tired Of Waiting And Leaves. You just turn your head and look at me and make that pbpbpbthhhh rubbery-lip-blowing horse noise, and I want to give you a big hug and pat you on the nose, as long as nobody is watching, because I have tundra-cred to maintain here.
In many ways, My Horse, you remind me of my first two horses, My Horse and My Horse. I named you after them. Some people might say that’s not very original, but I am a Viking hero guy who goes around hitting people in the face with axes for a living, not Mr Fancy Name Writer Man. My Horse and My Horse were good horses too. I owned them many years ago when I was just starting out in the hero biz, way back when I was apparently the same age I am now. I still feel guilty about what happened to them. No, I mean, nothing happened to them. They are 100% still alive and very happy, and the thing that happened to them will never happen to you, because I think I’m better at aiming power attacks now, and I’m definitely better at maintaining a good camera angle so enormous sheer icy cliffs don’t look like a small, gentle slope right up until you gallop over the edge.
Horses go to Sovngarde, right? I’m pretty sure they do.