[Nurumaiel]

A soft smile came to Galadh's lips when Durelin asked her of Gondor. "The White City," she whispered. "Yes, I saw it once, when I was a child... ten years ago. I was nine years of age. It was beautiful, more beautiful than anyone can imagine. I can't even begin to describe its beauty..."

She came back from her dream-world and said, "Where I live it isn't as beautiful. It's not far from Minas Tirith, in fact, so sometimes when the sky is clear you can see over the village walls the White Tower. My home is a sweet place, small enough to be small, but large enough to fit all my family. It couldn't ever compare with Lothlorien, though. It was a childhood dream of mine to go to Lothlorien, but now I don't want to. I met an Elf once, and I decided though he was nice enough, I wouldn't want to be surrounded by immortal folk. I'd feel... so out of place. But if another mortal came with me..." She stopped, looked at Durelin, and blushed. "I don't find anything wrong with Elves at all," she said hurriedly. "It's just that it would be uncomfortable to be the only mortal amongst hundreds of Elves."

"Yes, I understand perfectly what you mean," said Durelin with a smile.

"Now, would you excuse me?" said Galadh, standing up. "I would stay longer, but I need to make sure my horse is stabled properly. You can never tell. I mean, even back home some people can't stable a horse right. Then again, Gondorians aren't the wonderful horse-masters that the Rohirrim are."