The Thunder-Horse
By Alyx J. Shaw
For Melissa M, my bug-bug. She knows why.
He was Nathan's horse. He was from the moment they saw each other. He was a huge, black Friesian stallion, with an arched neck and massive hairy hooves, fighting his lead and snorting as he was taken out of the trailer and onto the set where they were shooting the video. The first thing the brute did was rear up and bellow his intense dislike of the mortals he was forced to suffer, iron-shod hooves scraping the air. Andrew was not impressed, and he turned to face one of the handlers, brown eyes large from behind his fine-rimmed glasses.
"We requested a horse for a shoot, you bring us a nightmare?"
"He'll settle down," said the handler.
Andrew watched the aggressive, unhappy animal and made a mental note to not use these animal-handlers again. Granted as the personal assistant of one of the biggest, both literally and figuratively, rock stars on the planet it was not his job to do things like acquire animals for video shoots, so technically this wasn't his fault. But Nathan Maynard trusted few people and liked even fewer, so rather than go to a stranger and risk getting someone who might actually know what he was doing, he went to Andrew. So it fell to Andrew to get the horse for the video shoot, and what they had ended up with was not a horse but a nightmare. Terrific. Well, there went his Christmas bonus.
Andrew couldn't help but notice the other three members of the band were standing well away from glorious and highly pissed-off animal, thus shooting down his long-held opinion that Bill, Daryl, and Adalwolf had a combined IQ of tuna noodle casserole. They were at least smart enough to stay away from big angry things that kicked and bit. Andrew watched as Nathan approached the unhappy horse, beer in hand, wincing as he pictured one of the massive hooves smashing Nathan's skull like an egg. Nathan walked up to the huge, hairy beast, its long black mane hanging over its face, froth dripping from its jaws as though it was rabid. Man and beast regarded each other.
"Let's just get this shit over with," Nathan said.
The horse stole his can of beer and downed it, then spat the empty at the handler. It was love at first sight.
The song was one of those old-style power ballads, well-suited to a video full of cowboy and Wild West imagery, despite the fact that their lead guitar player, Adalwolf, was German and barely spoke a word of English. But he was tall and spectacular and looked absolutely fantastic dressed up like a cowboy, his long, reddish-blonde hair blowing in the dry dusty wind. At least he did until he had a bizarrely phobic reaction to a passing tumbleweed and went tearing off the set as if he were being chased by three dragons and a flaming troll. The drummer and bass player were no help; Daryl and Bill just laughed.
Still, Adalwolf's newly-discovered terror of free-roaming bushes was hardly the main difficulty of the video shoot. They had to teach Nathan to ride, and the horse he had to ride was extremely large and had already let it be known he didn't like people. But that was fine with Nathan; he didn't like people either. It was Andrew's job to deal with people, and to let Nathan get on with the business of making music.
Andrew actually did far more than tend to the pointless necessities that went with his boss being a major rock star. It was his job to protect Nathan, and keep a buffer between Nathan and other human beings. Being talented and charismatic didn't make Nathan good with other people. Nathan didn't like people, and had no reason to like them. He wasn't smart, although he wasn't too stupid to know he was frequently mocked for being a little slow. As a small child, his parents had been in the habit of forcing him to sleep in the car in the closed garage so they couldn't hear his screams for food and comfort in the middle of the night, and there was speculation this had affected such things as Nathan's ability to speak.
By Alyx J. Shaw
For Melissa M, my bug-bug. She knows why.
He was Nathan's horse. He was from the moment they saw each other. He was a huge, black Friesian stallion, with an arched neck and massive hairy hooves, fighting his lead and snorting as he was taken out of the trailer and onto the set where they were shooting the video. The first thing the brute did was rear up and bellow his intense dislike of the mortals he was forced to suffer, iron-shod hooves scraping the air. Andrew was not impressed, and he turned to face one of the handlers, brown eyes large from behind his fine-rimmed glasses.
"We requested a horse for a shoot, you bring us a nightmare?"
"He'll settle down," said the handler.
Andrew watched the aggressive, unhappy animal and made a mental note to not use these animal-handlers again. Granted as the personal assistant of one of the biggest, both literally and figuratively, rock stars on the planet it was not his job to do things like acquire animals for video shoots, so technically this wasn't his fault. But Nathan Maynard trusted few people and liked even fewer, so rather than go to a stranger and risk getting someone who might actually know what he was doing, he went to Andrew. So it fell to Andrew to get the horse for the video shoot, and what they had ended up with was not a horse but a nightmare. Terrific. Well, there went his Christmas bonus.
Andrew couldn't help but notice the other three members of the band were standing well away from glorious and highly pissed-off animal, thus shooting down his long-held opinion that Bill, Daryl, and Adalwolf had a combined IQ of tuna noodle casserole. They were at least smart enough to stay away from big angry things that kicked and bit. Andrew watched as Nathan approached the unhappy horse, beer in hand, wincing as he pictured one of the massive hooves smashing Nathan's skull like an egg. Nathan walked up to the huge, hairy beast, its long black mane hanging over its face, froth dripping from its jaws as though it was rabid. Man and beast regarded each other.
"Let's just get this shit over with," Nathan said.
The horse stole his can of beer and downed it, then spat the empty at the handler. It was love at first sight.
The song was one of those old-style power ballads, well-suited to a video full of cowboy and Wild West imagery, despite the fact that their lead guitar player, Adalwolf, was German and barely spoke a word of English. But he was tall and spectacular and looked absolutely fantastic dressed up like a cowboy, his long, reddish-blonde hair blowing in the dry dusty wind. At least he did until he had a bizarrely phobic reaction to a passing tumbleweed and went tearing off the set as if he were being chased by three dragons and a flaming troll. The drummer and bass player were no help; Daryl and Bill just laughed.
Still, Adalwolf's newly-discovered terror of free-roaming bushes was hardly the main difficulty of the video shoot. They had to teach Nathan to ride, and the horse he had to ride was extremely large and had already let it be known he didn't like people. But that was fine with Nathan; he didn't like people either. It was Andrew's job to deal with people, and to let Nathan get on with the business of making music.
Andrew actually did far more than tend to the pointless necessities that went with his boss being a major rock star. It was his job to protect Nathan, and keep a buffer between Nathan and other human beings. Being talented and charismatic didn't make Nathan good with other people. Nathan didn't like people, and had no reason to like them. He wasn't smart, although he wasn't too stupid to know he was frequently mocked for being a little slow. As a small child, his parents had been in the habit of forcing him to sleep in the car in the closed garage so they couldn't hear his screams for food and comfort in the middle of the night, and there was speculation this had affected such things as Nathan's ability to speak.
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