[SydneyandStorm]

I'll extend this 'til either Saturday or Sunday, if you all don't mind c: That way everyone can polish up their stories and/or finish if necessary ^^ I'm already super impressed by the entries!

[Cooluser1615]

╔XXXXXXXXX╗
Username: HeroHorse
Barn: Sionnach Stables
Show name: Toirneach
agus Tintreach, meaning
'Thunder and Lightning' in
Irish.
Call name: Toirneach
Gender: Mare
Age: 3 years old
Height: 17.0 hands high
Breed: Clydesdale
Discipline: Jumpers
Breeding fee:
Price: 2,500c
╚XXXXXXXXX╝

Rain lashed down, obscuring the sunrise and drowning out the meagre hums of birdsong that were all too rarely heard during the winter. It was a day heavy with pessimism, and so it was not very surprising that Leyla woke up in a bad mood. For a few seconds, she lay in her bed, still half-asleep, before the memories of the past few days hit her like a freight train at full speed. The failures, the mess-ups, the disqualification... Leyla was sorely tempted to close her eyes and try to fall asleep again. However, that was hardly an option for one who owned or, more precisely, looked after horses. She sighed and pulled on her work clothes; an old pair of beige jodhpurs, a black woollen jumper with a cartoon of a penguin on it, black riding boots and her grey coat. Pausing only to brush her brown hair, shove it into a ponytail and put her black riding helmet on, Leyla raced outside. She almost skidded on the icy water which blanketed the path to the large wooden barn, but managed to stay on her feet. By the time she entered the barn, her legs were soaked; her coat could only cover so much of her body, after all. Réalta San Oíche, the Gelderlander stallion, and Cinniúint Óir, the Tennessee Walker mare, did not see the rain as an adequate excuse for their owner's lateness. Leyla fed and watered the two impatient horses, and grimaced at the weather outside. How was she meant to train Réalta and Ór in such weather? She might be an experienced riding instructor, but she was no miracle worker. Réalta, ever-sensitive to his surrounds, would probably react to every single raindrop that landed on him, and a few that didn't, for good measure. As for Ór... well, Leyla couldn't predict what the Tennessee Walker horse would do, but she suspected that it would involve some devious method involving using the rain to dislodge Leyla, still only a novice at Western riding, from her back. Leyla still shuddered at the memory of their last show. Cinniúint Óir had been disqualified from the Western Pleasure due to bolting and, quite frankly, Leyla didn't blame the judge's decision. What had she been thinking? The world would be a safer place if she had never attempted to ride Western.

These dismal thoughts haunted her as she ate her own breakfast and rode the horses, one at a time, to absolutely no avail. Réalta was skittish and totally unable to concentrate on the aids which Leyla was giving him, while Ór took great joy in depositing her rider into the wettest, muddiest spot in the outdoor arena. Neither Leyla or the horses were hurt, but the experience left Leyla bad-tempered, drenched and exhausted from all the grooming which had to be done. She was eventually able to leave the stable and, after trudging through rivers of rain, found a pile of junk mail waiting for her. Leyla angrily tore each stupid advertisement to shreds before she tossed the scraps into the recycling bin. The mangled remains of leaflets such as 'Superior window cleaning services!' and 'Authentic Italian-style Pizza!' ended up in the depths of the bin. She had to take her frustration out on something, after all. Leyla was just about to tear up the last flyer when she stopped. It was an advertisement for something that actually interested her, for once. A horse show. It wasn't a show of a discipline which Leyla had ever considered entering, but she admired it nonetheless. The flyer advertised a driving competition for heavy horses, and featured a gorgeous photograph of a powerful bay Clydesdale stallion pulling a fine carriage. At the bottom of the flyer, the words 'Admission is free' were written, along with the address where the competition would be held. Leyla looked at the flyer and actually considered going. She needed a break, of sorts, and the show did not appear to be an overly drawn-out affair. It was even close enough for her to cycle to. Leyla smiled and memorised the date the show would be held, the thirtieth of January.

The days seemed to pass more slowly now that Leyla had something to look forward to. She exercised Réalta and Ór, the horses' behaviour gradually improving, along with the weather. Leyla made a few enquiries about purchasing draft horses of her own, a Noriker mare and a Shire stallion. Both of these enquiries ended unsuccessfully, with another stable invariably purchasing the horse, but Leyla didn't allow this to disappoint her as much as similar failures had in the past. She contracted on the upcoming show which she was determined to visit, waiting for the day of the show to come until, finally, it did.

The sun crept across a sky streaked with cirrus clouds, wispy clouds which did not threaten a drop of rain. Leyla awoke with a more optimistic attitude, delighted that she didn't have to endure torrents of rain or other extreme weather. The morning was cold, but pleasantly so; it woke Leyla up as she walked to the barn. Even Réalta and Ór seemed to be in better moods; again all odds, Ór was behaving cooperatively. Leyla saw to the horses' needs, grooming them and mucking out their stalls before giving them food and water. Despite their improved moods, she knew them both well enough to understand that they were unpredictable horses. She had never brought them near carriages, and was therefore unsure of how they may react to the carts and carriages which would obviously be present at at a driving competition. Leyla had henceforth decided to ride her bike to the competition. Lifeless piece of metal though it may be, it was highly unlikely to spook at the carriages or squabble with the equine competitors at the driving competition. Leyla changed clothes and hurriedly wolfed down a cheese sandwich before putting on her bicycle helmet and leaping onto her steel-grey bike. She had the flyer for the show buried in a small hunter-green bag of essential items slung over her right shoulder. A couple of seconds later, Leyla was off on her bike, following the road towards the show.

About forty-five minutes later, Leyla had arrived at the showground. She had narrowly missed being run over by a manic driver but, apart from that experience, her journey to the show had been uneventful. When she got off her bike and looked around, she was astounded by the premises. It clearly functioned as a permanent home for some horses, judging by the impressive, modern stable block to the right of the huge indoor arena. In an outside arena, finishing touches were being made to an intimidating marathon course and a smaller, but no less impressive, obstacle competition. However, noise boomed from inside the indoor arena, and Leyla headed in that direction. She was not disappointed. A crowd gazed at two beautiful black Percheron geldings were driven in tandem around the arena. Many members of the audience nodded in appreciation of the pair, and their eventual exit from the ring was accompanied by thunderous applause; the horses had performed well in the show-ring driving class. A booming voice from the loudspeaker heralded the entrance of two Brabant horses into the arena. They were harnessed abreast to a large carriage trotted around the ring. While they were very well-behaved and synchronised in their motion, they lacked the flair of the Percherons. Leyla was still sorry to see them go, as she had thought them fine horses, and their breed, like many heavy horse breeds, was an uncommon sight. The loudspeaker thundered out another message as the Brabant horses left the arena, announcing the entrance of the last entry of the two-horse show-ring competition. When the name of driver was mentioned, there was a stir in the audience. Leyla was not part of it, being totally unfamiliar with the world of competitive driving, but she noticed some of the audience members muttering to each other about whether there was yet a wild card to be played in the competition. She concluded that the driver of the last pair must be a highly respected figure in the field of heavy horse driving. Leyla stared along with the rest of the audience as a carriage rolled into the arena.

The carriage was large and wooden, painted and furnished in black. Leyla glanced at the smartly dressed driver, but it was the horses pulling the carriage which drew her attention. Beautiful Clydesdale mares they were, a team of one mature horse, grey but appearing white, and a young horse of a bay so dark as to almost be mistaken for black. The grey mare behaved perfectly, not placing a foot out of place, but the same could not be said for the bay. The younger horse tossed and turned in every direction, even attempting a half-rear. Her eyes glinted with merriment- she was certainly enjoying being such a pest -but the judges' eyes certainly did not. The bay mare's shenanigans continued right until the pair disappeared from view. The moment they had left, the audience erupted into whispers. Try as she might to do otherwise, Leyla couldn't help hearing snatches of conversation. "He must be losing his touch." a man commented, with an air of superiority, as if he could have gotten a better performance out of the mare. "Personally I don't blame him," the man's companion answered, "Except for the fact that he had the audacity to enter that mare into a show of this standard.". Leyla shook her head to rid it of the clamour and made her way outside. She disliked crowds and loud noise, so why had come to the show? What had she been thinking? Leyla already knew the answer to her own question, because only one word had been going through her head at the time; horses. She noticed that she had walked all the way to the stables. Leyla could hear the tramping and munching of contented heavy horses, and the readying of horses and equipment for the another competition. The stables tempted her, compelled her to go inside. Leyla tried to resist the urge to visit the heavy horses, suspecting that the spectators could be forbidden from entering the stables, but it was a half-hearted attempt. She soon found herself slipping into the barn.

The feeling of discomfort and uneasiness that had hung over Leyla when she was in the crowd disappeared in the presence of horses. Huge, gentle creatures were the heavy horses that filled every stall. Leyla did not stop at any one stall, but admired each horse in turn. It almost made her want to take up heavy horse driving! She had just passed a muscular North Swedish horse- a breed whose energetic, rhythmic movement could trump that of far larger horses -when she saw her. Leyla's eye met that of the Clydesdale mare. The horse stared back, unflinching, her eyes, the colour of strong coffee, challenging the human in some way. Leyla turned her gaze away and, when she looked back at the mare, she was busy decimating a haynet- rope and all. The horse made no suggestion of the earlier challenge, but Leyla felt certain that it had been a challenge. What had the mare been challenging her to do? A simple tension arising due to the fact that Leyla had entered the mare's personal space or something deeper?

A voice interrupted Leyla's pondering. "Hello." the voice said. It came from a man; the mare's driver, to be precise. Leyla spun around, and blurted out, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go near your horse!". The man smiled, but then his face fell. "To be honest, I'm not sure if it matters. She and I have become laughing stocks. I might be able to regain some of my reputation, if I play my cards right, but she..." The man finished talking with a shrug. "She isn't going to take off in the world of competitive driving, that's for sure. She just doesn't have the right attitude." he added. Leyla looked at the mare and replied, "Well, she doesn't actually seem mean, just naughty. It's almost... endearing.". Not wishing to sound too sentimental, Leyla added. "Her conformation is great too, bar her hindquarters. She could do well in another discipline, perhaps.". The man sighed, and said "The problem is, I don't do another discipline. Driving is my life. Unless I sell her which, at this point, seems to be the best idea for both her and me.". Leyla reached out to the mare and stroked her bay coat. The Clydesdale horse did not seem to mind. "Well, if you ever happen to be selling her," Leyla said, pulling a pen and a scrap of paper out of her bag, "Call this number. I'd be interested in buying her, she's a good horse, despite being a bit of an attention seeker.". Leyla scrawled her phone number onto the scrap of paper and handed it to the mare's driver. He took it and replied "I will certainly do so. Have a nice day.". "Same to you." Leyla responded, giving the mare a pat before noticing the time. Leyla hurriedly spoke, about to leave the stable, "Sorry, I've got to dash. Goodbye!". Without waiting for a reply, Leyla raced off to her bike, pulled her bicycle helmet out of her bag and put the helmet on. She cycled off in the waning afternoon light, wondering what, if anything, would come of this day.

Several days later, Leyla was mucking out the stalls when she heard her phone ring. She answered it as quickly as she could. "Hello, Leyla O'Donoghue speaking." she stated. "Leyla, I've some news about the Clydesdale mare which you were interested in." a familiar voice replied. It was unmistakably the driver from the show. "What is it?" Leyla asked. "The mare is for sale now. She's going for 2,500c. Various offers have been made for her; there's more interest in her than previously thought. But that isn't the point. The point is whether you'd like to buy her or not?" the man answered. Leyla smiled and said, "I would definitely like to buy her.". She heard the scratching of pen on paper at the other side of the line, then the mare's driver spoke once more. "No promises- as I've said, we've had a lot of offers -but we'll consider your offer.". Leyla stopped herself from cheering and, instead, replied earnestly, "Brilliant!". After a couple of pleasantries were exchanged, the conversation ended, leaving Leyla in a hopeful mood. Could she be the mare's next owner?

[SydneyandStorm]

Sure thing ^^

[SydneyandStorm]

Please forgive me I really need time on this one ^^' I'll have the winner posted as soon as I'm able to make a decision!

[SydneyandStorm]

╔XXXXXXXXX╗
Username: HeroHorse
Barn: Sionnach Stables
Show name: Toirneach
agus Tintreach, meaning
'Thunder and Lightning' in
Irish.
Call name: Toirneach
Gender: Mare
Age: 3 years old
Height: 17.0 hands high
Breed: Clydesdale
Discipline: Jumpers
Breeding fee:
Price: 2,500c
╚XXXXXXXXX╝

Rain lashed down, obscuring the sunrise and drowning out the meagre hums of birdsong that were all too rarely heard during the winter. It was a day heavy with pessimism, and so it was not very surprising that Leyla woke up in a bad mood. For a few seconds, she lay in her bed, still half-asleep, before the memories of the past few days hit her like a freight train at full speed. The failures, the mess-ups, the disqualification... Leyla was sorely tempted to close her eyes and try to fall asleep again. However, that was hardly an option for one who owned or, more precisely, looked after horses. She sighed and pulled on her work clothes; an old pair of beige jodhpurs, a black woollen jumper with a cartoon of a penguin on it, black riding boots and her grey coat. Pausing only to brush her brown hair, shove it into a ponytail and put her black riding helmet on, Leyla raced outside. She almost skidded on the icy water which blanketed the path to the large wooden barn, but managed to stay on her feet. By the time she entered the barn, her legs were soaked; her coat could only cover so much of her body, after all. Réalta San Oíche, the Gelderlander stallion, and Cinniúint Óir, the Tennessee Walker mare, did not see the rain as an adequate excuse for their owner's lateness. Leyla fed and watered the two impatient horses, and grimaced at the weather outside. How was she meant to train Réalta and Ór in such weather? She might be an experienced riding instructor, but she was no miracle worker. Réalta, ever-sensitive to his surrounds, would probably react to every single raindrop that landed on him, and a few that didn't, for good measure. As for Ór... well, Leyla couldn't predict what the Tennessee Walker horse would do, but she suspected that it would involve some devious method involving using the rain to dislodge Leyla, still only a novice at Western riding, from her back. Leyla still shuddered at the memory of their last show. Cinniúint Óir had been disqualified from the Western Pleasure due to bolting and, quite frankly, Leyla didn't blame the judge's decision. What had she been thinking? The world would be a safer place if she had never attempted to ride Western. -snip-

Didn't know where to snip it sorry! Congrats, HeroHorse! This was one of the hardest competitions for me to judge ever, because the stories entered were really just so wonderful. Honestly, I think every single one of you deserves a runner-up, but I can't do that because of time restraints -- I'm still debating whether I will actually make a couple runner-ups, because I'm so behind on breedings and I've got one other runner-up to do, but you guys each deserve your own horse for how absolutely beautiful these stories were.

So congrats to all, and special congratulations, HeroHorse! Thank you all for being so cooperative with the length of time it took me to sort this one out c:

[Cooluser1615]

Thank you very much! Honestly, I am amazed that I won as everyone had such great entries, which I really enjoyed reading. Would you mind if I train Toirneach?

[SydneyandStorm]

Sure thing!

Toirneach did not gain any additional points during training.

[Ivara]

Congrats Hero! c:

[Cooluser1615]

Thanks, Ivara. Your story was wonderful, by the way.

I would like to train Toirneach and put her up for public breeding at a fee of 4,000c, please.

[SydneyandStorm]

Toirneach did not gain any additional points during training.