Erestor swung lightly onto Mithril's back and turned him in the direction of the mountain passes.
"Lothlorien would be that way."
Mithril pranced in his usual showy, skittish manner - the same one that usually caused Erestor to get peeved to no end but that had saved his master's life more than once in battle. Erestor had a sort of love-hate relationship with his horse.
The early morning sun rose as the group set out from the courtyard, crossed the bridge, and took to the trails that led out of the valley.