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Hírvegil had almost disappeared into the blessed silence of his tent when Angóre's voice halted him once again. "And captain," the voice had changed, impassivity now draped it where sharpness had been but a moment before. Hírvegil turned, surprised despite himself at the change. Angóre continued; "I must apologize for our rude behavior. I need not explain to a lord of men such as yourself the dismay that fell upon us when we were found in breach of our trust: having failed those who depended upon us. But now is a time for cool heads, and not hasty deeds. Orcs do not love daylight, and I do not suppose that they will travel far or swiftly while the sun shines. Prisoners can only serve to slow their travel as well. Therefore, take your rest and gather your strength. It will do us no good to charge after them, only to be killed or taken as well." Angóre then bowed, after the fashion of the Men of Arnor, and retreated.
Hírvegil stared in wonder at the receeding Elf, who had spoken so calmly while his charges lay in bondage. Truly, he thought, the ways of the Firstborn are strange beyond any Man's knowledge. He shook his head and vanished into the tent.
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