Glorfindel searches for Aragorn and the Hobbits.
Asfaloth plodded along the road, his gait lacking its usual vigour. His bells clang together, devoid of their normal music.
Still we search, but what for? What hope is there to find them in the wilderness, with the Nine abroad?
Hope. His mind lingered on that word. What hope did he claim, that he might find Hope? Estel was lost, and all Middle-earth's hope. He sank into his steed's back, and Asfaloth guessed his master's despair.
But Asfaloth smelled a familiar scent on the wind. His step quickened, his bells sang. "Glorfindel!" the elf heard, and his heart rejoiced. Estel.