Not seven leagues away from their destination, six horses crested a hillock, and the lead rider gazed into the distance as Minas Tirith came into view. The Tower of Guard was truly a glorious city, the pinnacle of the race of men's achievements in the modern age. Truly, it was a stoic dwelling, having seen more years and survived more battles than many could even dream of. Even stuck in the shadows of Mount Mindolluin it looked spectacular, the white stones of it's towers and walls still shining bright. However, the Elves of Middle-Earth did not come on that day to simply admire the capital of Gondor; they had business within, and such business was not to be kept waiting. The lead rider eased her steed forward with a gentle nudge of her heels, and soon the six were at a steady gallop, nearing the city at haste.

Although having seen the two groups of riders before, they were to be ignored up until the lead Elf, Elennína, realised that both parties had paused on the Pelennor fields, and were now conversing with one another. Recognising both banners, the elf cocked an eyebrow curiously at the latter. Glancing behind her to share a look with the Emissary, Elennína altered the course of her group slightly, now heading directly towards the others on the fields - it was likely they were here for the same reason, after all.

As they slowed to a canter upon nearing the others, the auburn-haired elf found her thoughts drifting to her Emissary - Lhindél. They had not conversed all that much during their journey; having met he and the remainder of his guards just beyond the Field of Celebrant, they had made no delays in getting to Minas Tirith as swiftly as possible. To her, that meant no time for idle chit chat. As such, she didn't particularly know what to make of their young Emissary, only that he was clearly deemed responsible enough for the task before him. Elennína could assume that he had not seen battle as she had, but had stopped such thoughts almost immediately. A person wasn't defined by whether or not they had participated in war; it was their actions that mattered, be it in a fray, or at times of peace. Still, this was sometimes a hard thing to forget, when she herself had seen some of the largest battles of the Third Age. Regardless of that, she had nothing against Lhindél, and decided a real judgement about his character could be made during this meeting of King Eldarion. As for the others that would be present, it would seem they were to meet one - or possibly two - of them here.

Pulling firmly on her reins, Elennína came to a pause before the two other parties of horses and riders, her own stopping behind her. They would see an elf dressed apart from the others; while the guards of the once Greenwood wore garb of browns and greens, her own armour was the golden hued metal of Rivendell, paired with cloth of crimson and blue, and her treasured sword hanging at her hip. She wore no helmet, and her hair was tied into a tight, albeit windswept, ponytail.

"Greetings." Her gaze turned first to the party of men; the banner of Dol Amroth rising high before them, and heir to the line of Imrazor sat before her. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Highness. I am Elennína of Imladris - I am guard to Lhindél of Eryn Lasgalen, our Emissary." At this she paused, gaze now turning to her Elven kin, whose flags were no doubt familiar, but unexpected. Again, an eyebrow rose high in curiosity. "We did not expect to see our kind from Lindon here. Tell me, where is Círdan? He has not left these lands yet, has he?" She could only assume this was why they were here; that the Shipwright had finally departed for Aman, and he had sent out riders to send word. However, the number of riders and their destination seemed to say otherwise. Clearly, Círdan had some reason for sending some elves to Minas Tirith. Did he not trust Thranduil's emissary? It was hardly as if there were enough Elves left in the west that they would need such an input in this meeting - and whoever the woman was at their head was unknown to Elennína, so she was left stumped as to why - if Círdan were to send anyone - he wouldn't come himself. Or at the very least, send someone more well-known.