Choice
Hearing his name being called, Moridin looked up from the patch of earth he had been staring at, lost within his mind, lost in a place whose knowledge slipped away from him even as his senses returned, pushing him to get to his feet to turn around and respond to the human nearby.
If it was anyone else, they would have had to ask the person to find out what had been said, but elves were simply different. Their minds followed different patterns, had different ways in which they processed information, and one of the skills that every elf learned at a very young age involved being able to go through anything seen or heard or smelled in the last few minutes even if they had not been conscious to pay attention when the sensations had been interpreted by their senses. It was a cache, of sorts, that was automatically erased and refilled at a certain time that was unique to every elf, so after accessing it, Moridin was able to stand up and say, "Of course, please lead me to him."