Fawian now warmed by the sweet wine, leans back and softly sings:
Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the mountain and the sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in mordor where the shadows are.
a single tear runs down her cheek, as she remembers the Elf who taught her that lay.
She suddenly remembers where she is, she lowers her head and blushes.
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"Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live" ~ Mark Twain.
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