Angóre spoke first, his face creased in thought. "We cross the mountains at the High Pass, travel southward and enter Moria from the east? If that be our course, the curve of the mountains takes us many leagues out of our way. Why do we not travel southward through Hollin, attempting Redhorn Pass if it be possible, or if not, searching out the secret West-door of Moria? There are Elves here among us who were young when the gates were open, surely we could find it now." As he spoke, he watched the faces of Elrond and his sons, and knew the answer even before they spoke.
"Because," He continued, his heart heavy, "Celebrían was taken through the eastgate, and our chances of finding a lone Elf in the deep of the dwarrowdelf are slim without trail indeed. Also, where one ambush was there may be another, is this not so? It would be a sad fate for the rescuers to be caught in the same snare. Very well, the longest way round seems to be the shortest way there, though I grieve for the lost time." Another thought occured to him then.
"Our friends and kinsmen in Lórien might help us by finding the trail and preparing fresh horses. Has anyone been dispatched to them?"
__________________
This is my quest, to follow that star; no matter how hopeless, no matter how far. To fight for the right, without question or pause. To be willing to march into Hell for a Heavenly cause! -Man of La Mancha
|