"Yes," she repeated, suddenly finding her tongue. "Please do call me Galadh. Just don't call me Gwend, and if you hear anyone saying that name, Gwend, find me and tell me at once, because it's my brother. He doesn't know I'm here, and I'm not even sure if he's here, but he said he was coming here, and, well, I'm chasing him. He wouldn't let me go with him because I wasn't a man."
The bar was beginning to empty and everyone was returning to their seats. The noise was almost unbearable for Galadh, for the inns back in Gondor, at least near her house, were relatively quiet. She'd only been in a noisy inn once before when her father took her to Minas Tirith. That was loud, she thought.
"Well, now you know my story," she said, sitting down and leaning back. "I mean, why I'm here in the Shire. What business does an Elf have in this land of the halflings?"
[ February 09, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]
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In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand
in every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.
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