Maeralagos touched his ear, considering, cringing in slight disgust as his fingertips came into contact with the torn cartilage, a horizontal rip from the edge about halfway across the body of the ear. Perhaps this one needed tending...
He opened his mouth to speak to Melcildir, but heard someone else approach from behind. He turned in time to see a figure, a short distance away, sitting, leaning against a tree, his arm clutched in his cloak.
"Erdaminéon!" he cried, running up to him and kneeling at his side. "Are you alright?"
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" Where now are the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?"
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