It was not, as such things went, a terribly dramatic meeting. Manadhlaer had taken her mare for a walk, as she did regularly at the advice of the horse-expert Nenrildë -- and while Milkthistle was a game creature and held her head high, the rider felt the weariness of the beast as if it were her own. She would need pasturing soon, and a retirement from adventure.
Coming the other way, toward the Hall of the Pillar, was Glorfingwë in his pale blue robes. Both reined in their horses and hailed each other.
