Originally written for the Tolkien Weekly challenge 'Unsung Heroes: Farrier or Blacksmith'
It could happen to any horseman, even a Wizard.
Shadowfax cast a shoe.
Though in a desperate hurry, Gandalf walked beside the stallion until they reached the nearest village and a blacksmith.
'He's a grand fellow,' the blacksmith remarked, setting Shadowfax's hoof on his thigh to smooth the edges with his rasp.
'He is, and very dear to me.' A hint of warning coloured Gandalf's words.
'Never fear, sir. I know my work.'
He did, and refused payment, saying, 'I'm honoured to tend such a fine beast.'
But Gandalf paid him anyway, in wizard's coin: seven years of good luck.