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Description
Dang that's long. And for the record, the things that are awfully similar to GAQ's most recent months were written BEFORE I read hers. And if you pace yourself well, song and story should come to a close at almost the exact same time. This is also the first successful attempt at a completely digital drawing. No scanning in for me here!
One more thing... I realized that Mormegil and Shadow's positions should be switched to properly represent the story. but sshhhhhhhh! I'm not changing it now!

Shutting up now...

Previously:

MAY
Theme

This was it. We had made it to the beginning of the Triple Crown with no injuries, and all our horses were in fine shape. Mormegil and Shadow would, of course, be racing in the Derby and the Peakness, Oberon would go off in either the Turf Classic or the Louisville Handicap, Puck and Silver would race in the Chick Lang and Miss Preakness respectively and Tiz Lin, who had been waiting, with less and less patience, to be let loose would get to stretch her legs in the Kentucky Stakes.

Oberon’s next race was something of a dilemma for James and Rebecca, as they had to decide whether to go for a shorter GI race or a longer GIII, the Turf Classic or the Louisville Handicap. In the end, they chose the Louisville Handicap and the longer distance, electing to keep Oberon out of GI company for one more race. His disdain from the Fort Marcy was back as he ignored the field in the post parade and into the gate. He ran toward the back, as was his usual wont until the backstretch when he glided forward and moved up the pack, passing horses as if they weren’t there. Tom did have to restrain him as he hit the front, not understanding that he had to leave some in reserve, and he strode on. At a mile and a quarter he was ten lengths ahead and still going strong, but behind him, the older, more seasoned horses were beginning their bids and sorting themselves out to chase him. With one furlong to go, Tom took stock of his situation. Oberon was still eight in front and running on cruse control, having not changed gears since he took the lead, and he had plenty in the tank. He let him be. At half a furlong, two had horses had cut into his lead, and Oberon could hear them coming after him. He flicked his ears back and snorted irritably, stretching out his legs and moving away again. The crowd went wild. Tom had not moved a muscle and Oberon was ten in front again, drawing away even farther. He came to the wire all by himself twelve lengths in front of the others. Our king had found his kingdom. He would take the handicap world by storm.

On the big day, Mormegil and Shadow stretched their legs together before being thoroughly washed and scrubbed and brushed till they gleamed and seemed to give off light of their own. They were peacefully companionable until they were brought to the paddock where they parted ways, as Shadow had drawn post position 3 and Mormegil had drawn 14. The company was small, but strong, though Mormegil, along with Shadow and Lumbre d’Oro were the best it had to offer – though the three of them made a formidable showing in the paddock. Mormegil was the heavy betting favorite with that huge win in the Wood Memorial, but those with more knowledge still acknowledged the possibility that he had peaked too soon, and took into account that Shadow, was as yet, undefeated, and Lumbre d’Oro too was very impressive. So the odds on the big three were very close with Mormegil coming out on top, and everyone else torn between Shadow and Lumbre.

The start was clean, Shadow broke like a grey blur and immediately assumed command, followed closely by Lumbre d’Oro who broke from the position directly on her inside. Mormegil had rocketed in from his wide position and found himself in striking distance, well placed midway up the pack. The field was incredibly stretched out, and divided into two distinct groups. The good horses (confirmed closers excepted) were in the front half, and the horses with slightly less class were sandwiched between aforementioned classy front runners and classy closers. One of the said classy closers had beaten Mormegil in his Florida Derby loss.

Up front, Shadow was running strongly, neither urged nor restrained, having begun at a fast, but sustainable, clip. Lumbre d’Oro hugged her inside flank, and several other horses trailed them closely. Just behind them, Mormegil lurked, awaiting his moment to spring. Tom, like Jose on Shadow, sat absolutely still, for Mormegil, like his grey partner, was biding his time. The field roared into the homestretch, and Shadow came alive, drawing away from the pack. But two horses came with her: Lumbre d’Oro, now under an all out drive, and Mormegil. The crowd erupted as the black body cut swiftly into the lead that that the grey and chestnut had made for themselves, as Tom moved him toward the center of the track to give him more running room.

Shadow still had the lead, even in the face of the Argentinean’s charge and though Jose had the whip out, he was doing nothing more than showing it to her, letting her hold off Lumbre, knowing she could do it, and knowing that the biggest threat was flying down the center of the track. Mormegil drew level with Lumbre d’Oro, and Jose, seeing the black muzzle, swatted Shadow once across the haunches. She shook herself free from the chestnut colt, and powered her way away from him, but Mormegil was hot on her tail, and half the stretch yet lay before them.

To the roar of the stands, Mormegil caught Shadow and drew alongside her. A multitude of voices screamed their approval and encouragement as the game filly soldiered on, her pace not abating. They were stride for stride now, oblivious to the field behind them where Lumbre d’Oro ran third before the closers who now threatened to swallow him up. But none of this meant anything to the two in front. The jockeys put up their whips, and urged the colt and filly on with hands and voices alone. They accelerated to the wire, their strides perfectly matched, as if held together by an invisible harness. They hit the wire together, and if one nose had the advantage over the other, it was impossible for the naked eye to discern it.

They galloped out together too, still side by side to the wild cheers of the crowd. The final time 1:59.50, coming thrillingly close to the record still held by Secretariat. They had run the last furlong in 11 seconds flat. But it took a whole five minutes for the stewards to examine and re-examine the photo and the tape, but we were oblivious to it. Tom and Jose had leaned over and thumped each other ecstatically on the back as soon as it was safe to lean over and do so. Mormegil and Shadow, looking very pleased with themselves, and nickered to each other warmly. Meanwhile, James, in a move quite out of character with his quiet, serious nature, grabbed Rebecca around the waist and swung her around before allowing her to grab his hand and drag her down to their horses.

At last the numbers flashed up on the board, and the stands erupted again. Third place, no. 4, the closer of the Florida Derby, Second place, no. 2, Lumbre d’Oro had held on tenaciously, and first place, 3, 14 DEAD HEAT. The Derby was ours twice over. Our jubilation knew no bounds. A wonderful photo now resides on Rebecca’s desk, in an oval frame of a black face emblazoned with a sword, and a grey one, graced with a star, touching noses and garlanded with roses.

Puck came back in the GIII Chick Lang the odds on favorite and May continued to be a month of triumph for Darkshadow Stables as he clowned his way through the paddock again and went to work merrily, ignoring the race the first furlong or so, and then darting into action and taking the race by storm. He won by three furlongs, his tongue out and his ears flapping, which routine was rapidly becoming his signature move. If the immortal Zenyatta danced before a race, the incorrigible Puck flopped his ears and wagged his tongue afterwards. The world was charmed, and clamored for better company. They were dreaming of the Breeder’s Cup Sprint. Rebecca merely laughed and said, “It’s only MAY! Anything can happen between now and November! But we’ll see.”

Then before we knew it, it was Preakness day. Mormegil and Shadow were both in fine health and spirits, each having turned in sharp works, and Silver, who would race in the Miss Preakness, was glowing with the same health. If our big two were imposing, Silver gleamed. Her pale coat seemed incandescent and she carried herself so nobly that she looked like a positive throwback of her Arabian ancestors with her dished profile and flagging tail. She floated through the paddock like a dream, and flowed in the post parade.

The break was messy, as several fillies stumbled and jostled coming out of the gate, but Silver shot past them like liquid mercury and then conceded the lead to a dark filly by the name of Lady Night, a daughter of Midnight Lute. At the quarter pole, Tom asked Silver, and she responded by gliding alongside her dark opponent. They matched strides for several lengths, and then Silver’s nose emerged from Lady Night’s shadow, and then her head, and then her neck, and then her glistening shoulder.

The lovely filly who slid into the winner’s circle with the ease of a dancer and the demeanor of a champion was a far cry from the struggling juvenile who liked to hide behind James’ comforting presence.

Then came the Preakness. Nobody could decide between the two Derby winners, and in many cases, first and second pick came down to personal preference alone. Did you prefer grey or black? Colt or filly? Tolkien or not?

Post time came, and Shadow and Mormegil again were separated to go to posts two and five respectively. Lumbre d’Oro would break between them in stall three, and the closer who had come in third in the Derby occupied stall one.

The break was sloppy, and Lumbre d’Oro, having been rank in the post parade, was caught rearing and got away late. Mormegil came out entirely wrong footed, and the others ran into a traffic jam to reach the rail. The pace seemed lost as the closer in the number one spot tried to drop back into a field that didn’t know what it was doing. Out of this mess flew a grey dream as Shadow moved out in front and the pace began to resemble a pace, not a mess. The crowd thrilled as a repeat of the Derby seemed likely.

But in the meantime, Mormegil was caught deep behind and between horses, and Lumbre d’Oro all but trailed the field. Shadow led them all through swift splits, and Jose kept looking back, as if wondering where all his competition had gotten to. Shadow, it seemed, was wondering too, and there was a split second’s hesitation from the filly at the top of the stretch, and in that moment, before she bounded into it, out of the press of horses behind her, a black shape exploded and Mormegil bore down on her.

He had irritably bided his time to escape, Tom sitting still on his back, willing an opening to come before it was too late. It had come in Shadow’s moment of slight hesitation, and the black colt had powered his way out of the hole. Tom was privately convinced that sometimes people, jockeys included, forgot how small the black warrior was. So now Shadow found that she was being chased, and that it was Mormegil, and she accelerated, daring her stable mate to come after her. He did.

They motored down the stretch, lengths ahead of the others, the black colt in hot pursuit of the grey filly. He collared her at the sixteenth pole and the difference in their strides put the black head out in front as they stormed to the wire. Mormegil had taken the second jewel of the Triple Crown, handing Shadow her first defeat. Only one race stood between him and eternal glory.

Lumbre d’Oro finished a well fought fourth, and that tenacious closer had run up to take third, five lengths behind our deadly duo.

We were still gleeful. 1, 2 in the Preakness was no mean feat, and while Rebecca may have privately mourned the end of Shadow’s undefeated streak, she loved both horses too much to be anything but pleased. After all, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had two of the best three-year-olds in the country. Mormegil may have been a bit smug, and Shadow a bit peeved at him, but that evening found them happily munching grain out of each other’s boxes and quietly comparing notes. Our May certainly had been an eventful one, and June promised to be the same with one runner poised to take the third jewel in an immortal crown, and the other, the one horse who might snatch it from him. No one was muttering anything about peaking too soon NOW.

Pictured
Name: Dreams of Glory
Barn name: Shadow
Gender: filly
Breed: Thoroughbred
Age: 3
Height: 15.2 hh
Color: Steel Grey (bay)
Genotype: Ee/Aa/GG
Markings: Star, LH sock RH sock, RF sock
Bloodlines: starter x starter
Build: lean and lithe. Just on the dainty side of well put together.
Temperament: She’s a sweetheart and a willing worker. And CURIOUS. She inspects EVERYTHING. And very little frightens her.
Discipline: Thoroughbred racing
Distance: 7-12 furl.
Running Style: front runner
Jockey: Thomas Stephens/ Jose Martinez
Earnings: $300,000 (from HARPG shows, she’s earned a lot more than that from her career)

And

Name: Mormegil “Black Sword”
Barn name: Gil, Black Sword, Black Warrior
Gender: colt
Breed: Thoroughbred
Age: 3
Height: 15.1 hh
Color: black
Genotype: EE/aa
Markings: “sword like” blaze, LH stocking, RF, coronet
Bloodlines: Thalion x Morwen (Aragorn IRE)
Build: Small and well put together
Temperament: Independent and broody. He lacks his sire's great gentleness, and seems to have inherited a fair share of his dam's stubbornness. He is also a very quick learner. We have also learned that beneath the brooding surface lurks a raging beast that will fight like a demon and sulk like anything.
Discipline: Thoroughbred Racing
Distance: 7-12 furl
Running Style: midpack/front runner
Jockey: Thomas Stephens

Shadow's Design:

Ref: [link] I've found that Grasshopper is just about perfect for Mormegil

You get a virtual cookie if you read the entire thing!

Next:

Description
Dang that's long. And for the record, the things that are awfully similar to GAQ's most recent months were written BEFORE I read hers. And if you pace yourself well, song and story should come to a close at almost the exact same time. This is also the first successful attempt at a completely digital drawing. No scanning in for me here!
One more thing... I realized that Mormegil and Shadow's positions should be switched to properly represent the story. but sshhhhhhhh! I'm not changing it now!

Shutting up now...

Previously:

MAY
Theme

This was it. We had made it to the beginning of the Triple Crown with no injuries, and all our horses were in fine shape. Mormegil and Shadow would, of course, be racing in the Derby and the Peakness, Oberon would go off in either the Turf Classic or the Louisville Handicap, Puck and Silver would race in the Chick Lang and Miss Preakness respectively and Tiz Lin, who had been waiting, with less and less patience, to be let loose would get to stretch her legs in the Kentucky Stakes.

Oberon’s next race was something of a dilemma for James and Rebecca, as they had to decide whether to go for a shorter GI race or a longer GIII, the Turf Classic or the Louisville Handicap. In the end, they chose the Louisville Handicap and the longer distance, electing to keep Oberon out of GI company for one more race. His disdain from the Fort Marcy was back as he ignored the field in the post parade and into the gate. He ran toward the back, as was his usual wont until the backstretch when he glided forward and moved up the pack, passing horses as if they weren’t there. Tom did have to restrain him as he hit the front, not understanding that he had to leave some in reserve, and he strode on. At a mile and a quarter he was ten lengths ahead and still going strong, but behind him, the older, more seasoned horses were beginning their bids and sorting themselves out to chase him. With one furlong to go, Tom took stock of his situation. Oberon was still eight in front and running on cruse control, having not changed gears since he took the lead, and he had plenty in the tank. He let him be. At half a furlong, two had horses had cut into his lead, and Oberon could hear them coming after him. He flicked his ears back and snorted irritably, stretching out his legs and moving away again. The crowd went wild. Tom had not moved a muscle and Oberon was ten in front again, drawing away even farther. He came to the wire all by himself twelve lengths in front of the others. Our king had found his kingdom. He would take the handicap world by storm.

On the big day, Mormegil and Shadow stretched their legs together before being thoroughly washed and scrubbed and brushed till they gleamed and seemed to give off light of their own. They were peacefully companionable until they were brought to the paddock where they parted ways, as Shadow had drawn post position 3 and Mormegil had drawn 14. The company was small, but strong, though Mormegil, along with Shadow and Lumbre d’Oro were the best it had to offer – though the three of them made a formidable showing in the paddock. Mormegil was the heavy betting favorite with that huge win in the Wood Memorial, but those with more knowledge still acknowledged the possibility that he had peaked too soon, and took into account that Shadow, was as yet, undefeated, and Lumbre d’Oro too was very impressive. So the odds on the big three were very close with Mormegil coming out on top, and everyone else torn between Shadow and Lumbre.

The start was clean, Shadow broke like a grey blur and immediately assumed command, followed closely by Lumbre d’Oro who broke from the position directly on her inside. Mormegil had rocketed in from his wide position and found himself in striking distance, well placed midway up the pack. The field was incredibly stretched out, and divided into two distinct groups. The good horses (confirmed closers excepted) were in the front half, and the horses with slightly less class were sandwiched between aforementioned classy front runners and classy closers. One of the said classy closers had beaten Mormegil in his Florida Derby loss.

Up front, Shadow was running strongly, neither urged nor restrained, having begun at a fast, but sustainable, clip. Lumbre d’Oro hugged her inside flank, and several other horses trailed them closely. Just behind them, Mormegil lurked, awaiting his moment to spring. Tom, like Jose on Shadow, sat absolutely still, for Mormegil, like his grey partner, was biding his time. The field roared into the homestretch, and Shadow came alive, drawing away from the pack. But two horses came with her: Lumbre d’Oro, now under an all out drive, and Mormegil. The crowd erupted as the black body cut swiftly into the lead that that the grey and chestnut had made for themselves, as Tom moved him toward the center of the track to give him more running room.

Shadow still had the lead, even in the face of the Argentinean’s charge and though Jose had the whip out, he was doing nothing more than showing it to her, letting her hold off Lumbre, knowing she could do it, and knowing that the biggest threat was flying down the center of the track. Mormegil drew level with Lumbre d’Oro, and Jose, seeing the black muzzle, swatted Shadow once across the haunches. She shook herself free from the chestnut colt, and powered her way away from him, but Mormegil was hot on her tail, and half the stretch yet lay before them.

To the roar of the stands, Mormegil caught Shadow and drew alongside her. A multitude of voices screamed their approval and encouragement as the game filly soldiered on, her pace not abating. They were stride for stride now, oblivious to the field behind them where Lumbre d’Oro ran third before the closers who now threatened to swallow him up. But none of this meant anything to the two in front. The jockeys put up their whips, and urged the colt and filly on with hands and voices alone. They accelerated to the wire, their strides perfectly matched, as if held together by an invisible harness. They hit the wire together, and if one nose had the advantage over the other, it was impossible for the naked eye to discern it.

They galloped out together too, still side by side to the wild cheers of the crowd. The final time 1:59.50, coming thrillingly close to the record still held by Secretariat. They had run the last furlong in 11 seconds flat. But it took a whole five minutes for the stewards to examine and re-examine the photo and the tape, but we were oblivious to it. Tom and Jose had leaned over and thumped each other ecstatically on the back as soon as it was safe to lean over and do so. Mormegil and Shadow, looking very pleased with themselves, and nickered to each other warmly. Meanwhile, James, in a move quite out of character with his quiet, serious nature, grabbed Rebecca around the waist and swung her around before allowing her to grab his hand and drag her down to their horses.

At last the numbers flashed up on the board, and the stands erupted again. Third place, no. 4, the closer of the Florida Derby, Second place, no. 2, Lumbre d’Oro had held on tenaciously, and first place, 3, 14 DEAD HEAT. The Derby was ours twice over. Our jubilation knew no bounds. A wonderful photo now resides on Rebecca’s desk, in an oval frame of a black face emblazoned with a sword, and a grey one, graced with a star, touching noses and garlanded with roses.

Puck came back in the GIII Chick Lang the odds on favorite and May continued to be a month of triumph for Darkshadow Stables as he clowned his way through the paddock again and went to work merrily, ignoring the race the first furlong or so, and then darting into action and taking the race by storm. He won by three furlongs, his tongue out and his ears flapping, which routine was rapidly becoming his signature move. If the immortal Zenyatta danced before a race, the incorrigible Puck flopped his ears and wagged his tongue afterwards. The world was charmed, and clamored for better company. They were dreaming of the Breeder’s Cup Sprint. Rebecca merely laughed and said, “It’s only MAY! Anything can happen between now and November! But we’ll see.”

Then before we knew it, it was Preakness day. Mormegil and Shadow were both in fine health and spirits, each having turned in sharp works, and Silver, who would race in the Miss Preakness, was glowing with the same health. If our big two were imposing, Silver gleamed. Her pale coat seemed incandescent and she carried herself so nobly that she looked like a positive throwback of her Arabian ancestors with her dished profile and flagging tail. She floated through the paddock like a dream, and flowed in the post parade.

The break was messy, as several fillies stumbled and jostled coming out of the gate, but Silver shot past them like liquid mercury and then conceded the lead to a dark filly by the name of Lady Night, a daughter of Midnight Lute. At the quarter pole, Tom asked Silver, and she responded by gliding alongside her dark opponent. They matched strides for several lengths, and then Silver’s nose emerged from Lady Night’s shadow, and then her head, and then her neck, and then her glistening shoulder.

The lovely filly who slid into the winner’s circle with the ease of a dancer and the demeanor of a champion was a far cry from the struggling juvenile who liked to hide behind James’ comforting presence.

Then came the Preakness. Nobody could decide between the two Derby winners, and in many cases, first and second pick came down to personal preference alone. Did you prefer grey or black? Colt or filly? Tolkien or not?

Post time came, and Shadow and Mormegil again were separated to go to posts two and five respectively. Lumbre d’Oro would break between them in stall three, and the closer who had come in third in the Derby occupied stall one.

The break was sloppy, and Lumbre d’Oro, having been rank in the post parade, was caught rearing and got away late. Mormegil came out entirely wrong footed, and the others ran into a traffic jam to reach the rail. The pace seemed lost as the closer in the number one spot tried to drop back into a field that didn’t know what it was doing. Out of this mess flew a grey dream as Shadow moved out in front and the pace began to resemble a pace, not a mess. The crowd thrilled as a repeat of the Derby seemed likely.

But in the meantime, Mormegil was caught deep behind and between horses, and Lumbre d’Oro all but trailed the field. Shadow led them all through swift splits, and Jose kept looking back, as if wondering where all his competition had gotten to. Shadow, it seemed, was wondering too, and there was a split second’s hesitation from the filly at the top of the stretch, and in that moment, before she bounded into it, out of the press of horses behind her, a black shape exploded and Mormegil bore down on her.

He had irritably bided his time to escape, Tom sitting still on his back, willing an opening to come before it was too late. It had come in Shadow’s moment of slight hesitation, and the black colt had powered his way out of the hole. Tom was privately convinced that sometimes people, jockeys included, forgot how small the black warrior was. So now Shadow found that she was being chased, and that it was Mormegil, and she accelerated, daring her stable mate to come after her. He did.

They motored down the stretch, lengths ahead of the others, the black colt in hot pursuit of the grey filly. He collared her at the sixteenth pole and the difference in their strides put the black head out in front as they stormed to the wire. Mormegil had taken the second jewel of the Triple Crown, handing Shadow her first defeat. Only one race stood between him and eternal glory.

Lumbre d’Oro finished a well fought fourth, and that tenacious closer had run up to take third, five lengths behind our deadly duo.

We were still gleeful. 1, 2 in the Preakness was no mean feat, and while Rebecca may have privately mourned the end of Shadow’s undefeated streak, she loved both horses too much to be anything but pleased. After all, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had two of the best three-year-olds in the country. Mormegil may have been a bit smug, and Shadow a bit peeved at him, but that evening found them happily munching grain out of each other’s boxes and quietly comparing notes. Our May certainly had been an eventful one, and June promised to be the same with one runner poised to take the third jewel in an immortal crown, and the other, the one horse who might snatch it from him. No one was muttering anything about peaking too soon NOW.

Pictured
Name: Dreams of Glory
Barn name: Shadow
Gender: filly
Breed: Thoroughbred
Age: 3
Height: 15.2 hh
Color: Steel Grey (bay)
Genotype: Ee/Aa/GG
Markings: Star, LH sock RH sock, RF sock
Bloodlines: starter x starter
Build: lean and lithe. Just on the dainty side of well put together.
Temperament: She’s a sweetheart and a willing worker. And CURIOUS. She inspects EVERYTHING. And very little frightens her.
Discipline: Thoroughbred racing
Distance: 7-12 furl.
Running Style: front runner
Jockey: Thomas Stephens/ Jose Martinez
Earnings: $300,000 (from HARPG shows, she’s earned a lot more than that from her career)

And

Name: Mormegil “Black Sword”
Barn name: Gil, Black Sword, Black Warrior
Gender: colt
Breed: Thoroughbred
Age: 3
Height: 15.1 hh
Color: black
Genotype: EE/aa
Markings: “sword like” blaze, LH stocking, RF, coronet
Bloodlines: Thalion x Morwen (Aragorn IRE)
Build: Small and well put together
Temperament: Independent and broody. He lacks his sire's great gentleness, and seems to have inherited a fair share of his dam's stubbornness. He is also a very quick learner. We have also learned that beneath the brooding surface lurks a raging beast that will fight like a demon and sulk like anything.
Discipline: Thoroughbred Racing
Distance: 7-12 furl
Running Style: midpack/front runner
Jockey: Thomas Stephens

Shadow's Design:

Ref: [link] I've found that Grasshopper is just about perfect for Mormegil

You get a virtual cookie if you read the entire thing!

Next: