They slowed from a run to a walk, and Gamba turned and spied Elendur.
Something about the fellow's demeanor gave him pause, and he turned, summoning his best imitation of poetic gallantry. "Hello. You look downcast. Is the food not to your liking? Or is the company somehow incomplete?"
Lame, lame, lame. Phura could have done much better, but he waited for the fellow's response.
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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