The Lady of the Wood seemed troubled. Harlon couldn't figure what was the matter, though it must be serious. He tried his usual antics. Galadriel's expression remained grim. Hysterically Harlon begged at her feet for a smile. Still no grin appeared upon the Lady's face.
"I must be losing my touch. Dark days these have become." Harlon thought.
Suddenly a messenger burst throught the halls. Harlon glanced up to see Feadhros catch his breath. Following behind him were Sultir and Jemel, dragging their feet. Feadhros slowly brought his eyes to meet Galadriel's own.
"My lady, I have grave news." He solemly spoke.
[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]
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"So why the safe distance, this curious look? Why tear out single pages when you can throw away the book? Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?
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