His Favorite Things (Apr 13, 2021)
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bluetigerpinkbunnyTitle: His Favorite Things
Author/Team: kira/ Team Rainbow Fish
Fandom/Original: (Fandom Name or Original): Original
Rating: G
Triggers: none
Summary: Bernd enjoys a day by doing some of his favorite things…
ConCrit: (Y/N): No
Prompts: Daily prompt April 10th; Sunny Day
Word Count: 1177
Author’s note: Please note this is unbetaed and any mistakes therein are my own.
Bernd walked in the stable and he was greeted by a soft whinny from his horse Blitzkrieg. “Was machst du?” he said as he approached his horse’s stall. Blitzkrieg whinnied again and Bernd laughed. He set down the pail; he was carrying, and opened the top half of the stall’s door.
The big black Frisian stuck his head out and blew warm horsey breath on his young master. Bernd rubbed the horse’s nose. He spoke softly to him in German, and opening the lower half of the door, he stepped inside. Blitzkrieg gently nosed him, hoping for a treat. Bernd did not disappoint him, pulling a bag of baby carrots out of his pocket. He fed a couple to his horse, before snapping a lead onto his halter and leading the horse out of the stall.
Bernd tied him to a ring on the wall and headed towards the tack room. There, he got a bridle, a saddle, and the saddle pad. Bernd set the saddle and pad on a bale of hay, pausing just long enough to pet one of the stable cats. Bridle in hand, he walked over to Blitzkrieg. As if sensing Bernd’s intent, the horse lowered his head as he had been trained to. Bernd was still just as short and scrawny at fifteen as he was when he was twelve and Vati got him the horse for doing well in school. A natural horseman, he rode his horse as often as he could.
Today was such a day; warm and sunny, and Bernd could not wait to get Blitzkrieg all saddled up so he could go riding in the meadow. The kid, he was supposed to give a riding lesson to, cancelled at the last minute, leaving him free for the afternoon.
Bernd walked over to where he had left the saddle pad. Bringing it over to his horse, he placed it on Blitzkrieg’s back. It was followed by the saddled and it was not long before the Frisian was untied and Bernd was ready to mount. He led his horse over to the bales of hay, and using one as a mounting block, he was soon in the saddle. Touching his heels lightly to the horse’s flanks, he urged him forward. Blitzkrieg walked out of the stable and into the warm sunshine.
The pair slowly made their way towards Bernd’s house, where his father stood outside, watering the garden. “Hey, Vati!” He waved. He had forgotten his book and wanted to ask his father to go get it for him.
Wolfgang looked over his shoulder and waved back. “Where are you going?” he said in thickly accented English.
“I’m going to the meadow. I’ll be back later.” Bernd started to go on his way, when he remembered he wanted his book. “Hey, Vati?”
“Ja?”
“Can you please go get my book? I left in the kitchen on the table.”
Wolfgang nodded. “Do you have lunch? Or are you coming back in time for it?”
“No, I was going to read until I got tired and then come home and make myself something.”
“Wait, Bernd. I’ll get your book and I make you a sandwich.”
“Danke!” Bernd watched his father turn off the water, before heading inside. Closing his eyes, he looked up at the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face, while he waited for his father to come back.
Wolfgang returned a few minutes later. He handed his son his messenger bag. Inside were his book, a turkey sandwich, a twenty once bottle of soda, and a small thermos container of Bernd’s favorite potato salad, which was nothing more than potatoes and mayonnaise. A picky eater to say the least, Bernd tended to eat what everyone called “white food,” meaning anything that was white or cream colored, like chicken, pork chops, potatoes, rice, and buttered pasta. Having lost his mother when he was four, Wolfgang at the time, did not have the heart to curb his son’s bizarre eating habit; he had his hands full caring for Bernd’s infant brother Dieter, not to mention grieving the loss of his wife.
“Have fun and stay out of trouble.” Wolfgang held onto Blitzkrieg’s bridle. He rubbed the horse’s velvety soft nose with his free hand.
“Will do!”Bernd grinned.
“And no swimming in the river.” Wolfgang frowned.
“I promise I won’t swim by myself, Vati,” Bernd patted his horse’s neck. “I’m just going to let Blitzkrieg graze while I read.”
“Okay.” Wolfgang patted Blitzkrieg’s neck and letting go of his bridle, he waved his son on his way, before going back inside.
Bernd touched his heels to his horse’s sides and Blitzkrieg took off at a trot. They soon left the property for edge of the meadow, where Bernd urged him into a brisk canter. Leaning forward over the Frisian’s neck, he gripped the horse’s sides with his knees as Blitzkrieg jumped over the fallen remains of an old tree. It like they were flying as they raced through the meadow towards Bernd’s favorite spot.
Nearing the creek, that fed into the river, where Bernd, his brother, their “cousins,” and their friends liked to swim, he slowed Blitzkrieg down to a halt. The horse paused and shook his head, prompting Bernd to relax his grip in the reins. Blitzkrieg took a drink of cool water from the creek, before plodding alongside it to the river.
They headed towards the large willow on the bank of the river. Bernd loved to sit under its hanging branches and read in the dappled sunlight that filtered through. He dismounted and turned his horse loose in the meadow, before making himself comfortable at the base of the tree. Bernd watched Blitzkrieg graze while he dug into his own lunch.
Finished eating, Bernd wiped his hands on his pants. He grabbed the soda, twisting the cap off, and drank. He reached for the messenger bag, and pulled out his book. Bernd stuffed the remains of his lunch in the bag, having been taught from an early age to keep the area clean. He set the messenger bag aside, and picking up his book, he opened it and began to read. It was one of his favorite stories and he soon got lost in its pages. He would occasionally look up to check on Blitzkrieg, but the horse barely moved from where he left him.
Bernd looked up as he turned the page. He had a brief moment of panic when he did not see Blitzkrieg, until he realized the big black Frisian was dozing in the shade of the old willow. He marked his place, and getting up, he walked over to his horse. The sun was hot on his head and he felt bad for the Friesian. He led him under the willow, and grabbing the messenger bag, he slipped it over his head. Bernd gathered the reins and led Blitzkrieg out from under the tree. The followed the creek, pausing to let the horse have a bit of a drink, before heading home.
Author/Team: kira/ Team Rainbow Fish
Fandom/Original: (Fandom Name or Original): Original
Rating: G
Triggers: none
Summary: Bernd enjoys a day by doing some of his favorite things…
ConCrit: (Y/N): No
Prompts: Daily prompt April 10th; Sunny Day
Word Count: 1177
Author’s note: Please note this is unbetaed and any mistakes therein are my own.
Bernd walked in the stable and he was greeted by a soft whinny from his horse Blitzkrieg. “Was machst du?” he said as he approached his horse’s stall. Blitzkrieg whinnied again and Bernd laughed. He set down the pail; he was carrying, and opened the top half of the stall’s door.
The big black Frisian stuck his head out and blew warm horsey breath on his young master. Bernd rubbed the horse’s nose. He spoke softly to him in German, and opening the lower half of the door, he stepped inside. Blitzkrieg gently nosed him, hoping for a treat. Bernd did not disappoint him, pulling a bag of baby carrots out of his pocket. He fed a couple to his horse, before snapping a lead onto his halter and leading the horse out of the stall.
Bernd tied him to a ring on the wall and headed towards the tack room. There, he got a bridle, a saddle, and the saddle pad. Bernd set the saddle and pad on a bale of hay, pausing just long enough to pet one of the stable cats. Bridle in hand, he walked over to Blitzkrieg. As if sensing Bernd’s intent, the horse lowered his head as he had been trained to. Bernd was still just as short and scrawny at fifteen as he was when he was twelve and Vati got him the horse for doing well in school. A natural horseman, he rode his horse as often as he could.
Today was such a day; warm and sunny, and Bernd could not wait to get Blitzkrieg all saddled up so he could go riding in the meadow. The kid, he was supposed to give a riding lesson to, cancelled at the last minute, leaving him free for the afternoon.
Bernd walked over to where he had left the saddle pad. Bringing it over to his horse, he placed it on Blitzkrieg’s back. It was followed by the saddled and it was not long before the Frisian was untied and Bernd was ready to mount. He led his horse over to the bales of hay, and using one as a mounting block, he was soon in the saddle. Touching his heels lightly to the horse’s flanks, he urged him forward. Blitzkrieg walked out of the stable and into the warm sunshine.
The pair slowly made their way towards Bernd’s house, where his father stood outside, watering the garden. “Hey, Vati!” He waved. He had forgotten his book and wanted to ask his father to go get it for him.
Wolfgang looked over his shoulder and waved back. “Where are you going?” he said in thickly accented English.
“I’m going to the meadow. I’ll be back later.” Bernd started to go on his way, when he remembered he wanted his book. “Hey, Vati?”
“Ja?”
“Can you please go get my book? I left in the kitchen on the table.”
Wolfgang nodded. “Do you have lunch? Or are you coming back in time for it?”
“No, I was going to read until I got tired and then come home and make myself something.”
“Wait, Bernd. I’ll get your book and I make you a sandwich.”
“Danke!” Bernd watched his father turn off the water, before heading inside. Closing his eyes, he looked up at the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face, while he waited for his father to come back.
Wolfgang returned a few minutes later. He handed his son his messenger bag. Inside were his book, a turkey sandwich, a twenty once bottle of soda, and a small thermos container of Bernd’s favorite potato salad, which was nothing more than potatoes and mayonnaise. A picky eater to say the least, Bernd tended to eat what everyone called “white food,” meaning anything that was white or cream colored, like chicken, pork chops, potatoes, rice, and buttered pasta. Having lost his mother when he was four, Wolfgang at the time, did not have the heart to curb his son’s bizarre eating habit; he had his hands full caring for Bernd’s infant brother Dieter, not to mention grieving the loss of his wife.
“Have fun and stay out of trouble.” Wolfgang held onto Blitzkrieg’s bridle. He rubbed the horse’s velvety soft nose with his free hand.
“Will do!”Bernd grinned.
“And no swimming in the river.” Wolfgang frowned.
“I promise I won’t swim by myself, Vati,” Bernd patted his horse’s neck. “I’m just going to let Blitzkrieg graze while I read.”
“Okay.” Wolfgang patted Blitzkrieg’s neck and letting go of his bridle, he waved his son on his way, before going back inside.
Bernd touched his heels to his horse’s sides and Blitzkrieg took off at a trot. They soon left the property for edge of the meadow, where Bernd urged him into a brisk canter. Leaning forward over the Frisian’s neck, he gripped the horse’s sides with his knees as Blitzkrieg jumped over the fallen remains of an old tree. It like they were flying as they raced through the meadow towards Bernd’s favorite spot.
Nearing the creek, that fed into the river, where Bernd, his brother, their “cousins,” and their friends liked to swim, he slowed Blitzkrieg down to a halt. The horse paused and shook his head, prompting Bernd to relax his grip in the reins. Blitzkrieg took a drink of cool water from the creek, before plodding alongside it to the river.
They headed towards the large willow on the bank of the river. Bernd loved to sit under its hanging branches and read in the dappled sunlight that filtered through. He dismounted and turned his horse loose in the meadow, before making himself comfortable at the base of the tree. Bernd watched Blitzkrieg graze while he dug into his own lunch.
Finished eating, Bernd wiped his hands on his pants. He grabbed the soda, twisting the cap off, and drank. He reached for the messenger bag, and pulled out his book. Bernd stuffed the remains of his lunch in the bag, having been taught from an early age to keep the area clean. He set the messenger bag aside, and picking up his book, he opened it and began to read. It was one of his favorite stories and he soon got lost in its pages. He would occasionally look up to check on Blitzkrieg, but the horse barely moved from where he left him.
Bernd looked up as he turned the page. He had a brief moment of panic when he did not see Blitzkrieg, until he realized the big black Frisian was dozing in the shade of the old willow. He marked his place, and getting up, he walked over to his horse. The sun was hot on his head and he felt bad for the Friesian. He led him under the willow, and grabbing the messenger bag, he slipped it over his head. Bernd gathered the reins and led Blitzkrieg out from under the tree. The followed the creek, pausing to let the horse have a bit of a drink, before heading home.
