Marsilion bit his lip as the ranger woman spoke. He remembered her name now, Elenlith. She’d always been a bit of a tomboy, he recalled. But her words were well considered and well spoken. It was a certainly a gamble, this mission to find the Ainereg. But better to remain and watch the crops and animals die, and later, to watch the children suffer and starve?
“This mission would be perilous.” Marsilion spoke again. “I have travelled these lands before, our paths would lead through unfriendly places.” He considered, thinking of the mountains with their orcs, and the savage people living in the lands south of Eregion. He looked around at the hobbits, “We should consider carefully who is sent.” His eyes lingered on Fredegar, the older hobbit, and Peony, the girl. “This journey will be dangerous, and not easy. It is not a task for all.” He looked at Peony, the girl glared at him. “If we go.”
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!
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