Is it him? Is it really him?thought Yanithë. She dismounted her horse and approached the figure at the water.
"Bëor, is it you? Bëor son of Falamir? Speak to me!" Yanithë plodded through the stream, not caring about her raiment. "Will you not speak? Will you not speak?"
He looked at her, a dazed expression on his face, and gestured toward the water. She gazed at her reflection, moving closer and closer, as if in a trance. She heard her horse whinny and run off, then all went black.
Cold, so cold. Why did he do this to me? He was. . . that's all over now. It was not him, no. Where is my horse, where is my company, my leader, my compatriots? Where amI?
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Lots of Cheese
Je suis le fromage!
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