[mark12_30]

Lost in thought, Amroth stroked Echo's nose, and the horse leaned against him as if sensing his weariness.

Nethwador looked on, and spoke in the Wainrider's tongue. "That horse is too tall for you."

Amroth looked at him and smiled. Then yours is too tall for you as well, for you stand no taller than I.

Nethwador looked at Amroth in surprise, and then considered his own horse. It was true, yet he had always planned to grow tall enough to fit this horse.

Amroth continued. He is red like Echo, and tall, and truly he loves you. Does he have a name?

Nethwador shrugged. Wanderer. He was lost. I found him, and kept him. There was some guilt in the statement, yet Amroth sensed it was at least partially true.

Perhaps others were looking for him as well?

Perhaps.

Amroth laughed long and loud, and both men and elves turned to look at him.

"Come," he cried. "Let us ride! Erebemlin, Nethwador's horse needs an elvish name. In his own tongue, he is named Wanderer."

"Are you not weary, my lord?" Erebemlin asked, as others in the camp hastened to finish packing and mount.

"In body, " Amroth laughed. "Yet my heart is light. I was with her in my dreams, Erebemlin. She is here, somewhere in these lands. And despite dust and death and despair, I will find her!"

His leap onto the tall Echo was awkward for his weariness, but Echo sidestepped underneath him and swung southeast at a steadily increasing pace. Erebemlin hurried to join him as did Nethwador. Taitheneb dallied, til the men-folk joined him, and then they hastened to catch up.