The horses trotted forward to greet the other party against the High King's will. Soon they have crossed the distance and they are within talking distance of them.
'You travel with strange companions, King,' observes the other King, glancing at the centaurs flanking Peter.
'Not so strange,' he replies, nodding to the dwarf who rides beside the king.
'Strange enough, if your dwarfs carry bows,' their dwarf says in a rumbling voice.
'I did not know you took such offence to archers,' said another companion of this other king. He had a bow slung across his shoulder and gave the dwarf a teasing smile.
'Not elf archers, dwarf ones,' the dwarf clarifies.
Peter smiles, and he notices the other King has as well. Beside him, Edmund and Peridan are sizing up the others.
'You are not Telmarines,' Edmund says.
The others squint. 'We know not this word,' says another man, one who seems to be in something the same role as Peridan--noble, trusted, but not royal. 'We have tracked a party of unknown men east from the sea of Rhun. We have not seen these lands before.'
'Nor we,' says Peridan. 'We have been following Telmarines beyond Lantern Waste.' Peter can tell Peridan likes this man, and that puts him more at ease.
'Perhaps these are the same men, and we have the same questions.'
'Perhaps so. I am Peridan, Lord of Lionshaim and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.'
'And I am Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor.'
There are introductions to be made of the whole party, and they do not yet know each other, but Peter knows that wherever in the West Gondor may lie, their people are allies and he might trust in their king, who nods at him and opens his mouth to speak.
Tracking Telmarines
'You travel with strange companions, King,' observes the other King, glancing at the centaurs flanking Peter.
'Not so strange,' he replies, nodding to the dwarf who rides beside the king.
'Strange enough, if your dwarfs carry bows,' their dwarf says in a rumbling voice.
'I did not know you took such offence to archers,' said another companion of this other king. He had a bow slung across his shoulder and gave the dwarf a teasing smile.
'Not elf archers, dwarf ones,' the dwarf clarifies.
Peter smiles, and he notices the other King has as well. Beside him, Edmund and Peridan are sizing up the others.
'You are not Telmarines,' Edmund says.
The others squint. 'We know not this word,' says another man, one who seems to be in something the same role as Peridan--noble, trusted, but not royal. 'We have tracked a party of unknown men east from the sea of Rhun. We have not seen these lands before.'
'Nor we,' says Peridan. 'We have been following Telmarines beyond Lantern Waste.' Peter can tell Peridan likes this man, and that puts him more at ease.
'Perhaps these are the same men, and we have the same questions.'
'Perhaps so. I am Peridan, Lord of Lionshaim and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.'
'And I am Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor.'
There are introductions to be made of the whole party, and they do not yet know each other, but Peter knows that wherever in the West Gondor may lie, their people are allies and he might trust in their king, who nods at him and opens his mouth to speak.