"'I love you'," he obliges, murmured against her skin as he lets go of her hand, gestures her along in the direction of the elk. "Far less than I do, I suspect, but he will oblige."

And oblige the elk does, mindful of dresses and ladies in them, going down on forelegs first and then to the ground, blinking up at her. Coming to her is easier than a ladder, and he waits sedately enough for her to find her seat before rising again. Thranduil, meanwhile, has left them to unsaddle the horses and tie them to a nearby tree, in reach of good grass. The saddlebags he takes, the rest he disguises with woodcraft and leaves behind without too much concern. The bag in his hand, he comes to the elk's head, and walks alongside it as they go through the forest.