He could feel the tug with all of his mighty frame. Something in the stallion's heart seemed to give way that frigid winter day. His bond with the Not-Man with the backwards mane was suddenly stretched. Shadowfax's legs folded, and he sat as though ill or wounded. Closing his eyes, he rested his mind and slowly began to reach. There. Just there. At the every edge of his limits he could still feel the connection. It was weak, barely existing, but it was enough to hold him. The stallion worried that if it broke it would be some ages before he saw his Not-Man again, though he knew they would find each other once more in the Other Place.
For seven days Shadowfax, King of the Rohan steeds, did not move. Food and water were brought, and taken away untouched. The only sign of life was the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the lifting of an eyelid when anyone approached. The brown depths hidden under the lid were enough to turn the staunchest healer around, not getting closer than a few paces.
On the eighth day, Shadowfax awoke from his light, troubled sleep with a start. The connection was back, surging through the stallion's mind like a sunrise after an eternal darkness.
With a mighty shout, he leapt to his feet and kicked down the stable doors. He'd had no food or water for a week, but he needed none. His Not-man was alive! And the bond between them glowed as brightly as ever. There was something different - stronger about the creature at the other end. Needing no map, Shadowfax began to gallop, not knowing where he was headed, knowing only that his Not-Man would be at the end of the journey.
