Ærosylle grinned broadly at him and slipped her hand in his. "To answer your questions, sir, I do not know why they stop speaking to me. They just do. I do not know why..."
She glanced up at the elf and smiled faintly at him. As they walked down the stairs, the delicious smell of stew wafted towards them. The elf hung his head and held to the shadows, as though ashamed of being seen. She found that very odd. "Would you like me to get you a bowl?" she asked.
At his nod, she flitted off and begged the cook, Nell, for two bowls of stew. She courtseyed to a nearby dwarf and found the elf still hovering in the shadows. "Why do you hid?" she asked.
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