Galadriel sits back down by her tree after grabbing some of Aralaithiel's miruvor. she opens the bottle, sniffs the contents, and decides to leave things marked "special recipe" to someone a little more daring. she throws the bottle over her shoulder. "now, back to my wine," she mumbles under her breath...
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"For this is what your folk would call magic, I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem to use the same word of the deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel."
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