It had always been pulling at him, ever since he'd surged onto the shores of the Iron Islands with the tide. He hadn't felt it quite as strongly before, too busy with adjusting to land life, Westeros--culture shock, except he had no knowledge of that concept. But now, settled into his new life, the pull was always with him, as powerful and as necessary as his own heartbeat.
Every kelpie had its own bridle, in some form. Usually bridles were depicted as regular bridles, land-horse bridles, but they were different for each kelpie--the bridle form was just to make protecting it, guarding it, easier. It was difficult to carry around large gemstones, coral necklaces, and the like, after all--things of the sea. Llyr was surprised, and somewhat angry at himself, that he hadn't thought of it earlier. He was older, experienced--not some young foal who'd foolishly left its bridle alone on a beach. He'd left it, safely hidden, amidst a small coral reef offshore--but even hidden, the currents could pull it away, or... he should've at least checked on it. A kelpie's bridle, of course, could control the kelpie, and for that reason alone Llyr had been foolish to leave it behind. At the time, though, he hadn't wanted to bring it with him, not knowing how the Westerosi were, not knowing if they were hostile or violent, not knowing if he'd be welcome there. Still, he would feel safer with it with him.
Even if someone got hold of it, though, they likely wouldn't know what it was or how to use it. And if they did, well, Llyr would have been screwed. He was experienced enough to be able to get around some things, but direct orders would have had to be followed, until such time as his captor released him. Killing whoever found the bridle would perhaps work as well, but... if they knew what they had, what value it possessed, then surely the first order would be not to harm them in any way.
He just couldn't take that risk, and so he'd plunged straight into the waters off of the Iron Islands as soon as he had the time. He'd found it with ease, although untangling it from the coral had been a bit harder, and was now returning to the surface. His head broke through the water, a silver-colored bridle, made out of something like thin, delicate wire and tinted dark blue by his eyes and ears, clamped firmly in his jaws. A quick toss, droplets scattering through the air, and the bridle resettled itself on his head. In terms of regular horse bridles, it most resembled a bosal hackamore, with no bit and no reins. The throatlatch was a bit too loose, hanging down an inch or two below his head, but it was only too loose in terms of what land horses wore--he wouldn't have been able to get it on otherwise, and even then it'd been difficult, his ears squeezed down until he shook his head to move the top further back. Of course, he could've just kept it in its other form, a slim and closefitting aquamarine necklace, with the outer edges made from shell, but then it'd have been noticeable, eye-catching. The fewer people who really noticed it, thought of it as something unusual and odd, the better.
With his bridle settled safely on his head, the pull ceased altogether, easing a weight he hadn't known he was carrying. It would be safe with him, and he could stop worrying.
