Fawain looked up from her drink at the elf named Annalaliath, "do you know someone who can cut hair?" she had said to Aman. Fawain shook her head in utter disbelief An elf that drinks orc blood and now an elf the wants to cut her hair, these are strange times indeed she thought to herself.
She decided to take her coffee and sit nearer the warmth of the fire and nurse her hangover. She sat staring at the flames dancing about the fire, hoping that her friends would arrive soon and wondering what was so important that they had wanted to meet her here?
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"Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live" ~ Mark Twain.
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