The three elves continued on southward, past the Gladden Fields. With Rûdhchamion leading them, they traveled along the Great River, Anduin. It took them several weeks, and for the first time the two elven brothers looked upon Ithilien. To the east they saw the Mountains of Shadow. They eventually stopped after crossing The River Poros, then turned westward to the Mouths of Anduin and once again headed south.
“Where to?” asked the Galain. Gorath handed the other Dark Elf a waterskin. They had stopped to rest once more.
“We are close to our destination,” Rûudhchamion pointed towards the south. “She is there, and I know not the urgency that drives me there.”
The two brothers looked at their older kin. “Then the purpose has not yet been revealed.”
“Gondor,” he said quietly. He looked with elven eyes, along the plains. His stormy, grey eyes filled with worry. He had not felt such urgent foreboding since last he had seen her, years past.
“Will she remember?” asked Gorath.
“The Lady Taralphiel is a dear friend. It has been long, but our paths have crossed and I believe it no coincidence.”
They kept silent, as they were about to begin towards the plain of Gondor, Galain pointed. Far off, perhaps still several leagues from their location they saw riders.
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