Rolf left the meeting hall in high spirits.  The thought of this adventure had him ready and rearing.  He thought Forge felt a little bit of it, because he felt a kind of emotional echo in the back of his mind.  He had a letter ready for his father, had written it before going to the meeting.  He didn't need to know the details, just as Rolf hadn't when he had written it.  Rolf had the letter sent, and went down to the paddock where Forge slept.  

His bags were ready, and the tailless whiptail was saddled and bagged in minutes, Rolf also geared up as if for battle.  He had his light plates, and both his sword and basket hilted dirk.  They were both sheathed on his left side, so that his sword could be drawn in his right hand, and the dagger in his left in a reverse grip.

Forge was used to carrying Rolf in full battle regalia for jousts, and this was nothing.  So Rolf put his great helm on his head and mounted, first one foot into the stirrup and then swinging the other around.  With a quick whistle, Forge jolted out into the air.  Whiptails were fast, and Forge was a particularly speedy specimen.  He could soar with the best of them, but his real speed came when close to the ground, half running and half gliding.  This is how he flew to Ambrell Ridge, galloping, then jolting off of the ground to propel himself forward for a glide.  

To get to the foothill where they were to meet, Rolf turned Forge upwards and together they vaulted upward to soar to the top of the foothill.  He took the padded helm off and hung it on the saddle, unclipping his safety harness to dismount with the gathering group.  He might have arrived first, but he and Forge had had a little too much fun gliding in the foothills and forests.

"Hail, riders!" he greeted in mock formality, spreading his arms in welcome.  "Let's get going, then, yeah?  Or do I have time for a drink?"