Elrohir spoke gently to his horse and it instantly galloped away in the silence of the morning. Angóre followed instantly, and soon found himself riding aside the son of Elrond.
Soon they began to climb over a gentle slope that was covered with loose gravel and some sharp stones. The horses gracefully manoeuvered their way through them, as their riders scanned the slopes for any sign of unwanted company.
In a while they reached a small plateau off which two paths rose, each quite similar to the other. The elves stopped briefly to consider their future course.
"Which leads to the Redhorn Pass, I wonder," mused Angóre.
"We'll soon know," said Elrohir, as he looked closely at his companion.
In the minds of elves still resides the wisdom of the Elder Days, and in them lies the understanding of the forces of the world. Magic, is apparently stronger in them than any other of the creatures of Arda. And they possess quite an ability to use it in spectacular ways, ways in which humans are often never looking for.
"Of course," nodded Angóre, and immediately took the path on the left.
Elrohir smiled for just a short moment, and returning to the grave situation, nudged his horse onto the path on the right.
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