"Rohan?" Peony let a slight smile cross her face. "My father is from Rohan and how I love that land so. For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a Rider of Rohan." She paused for a moment and started to twirl her red hair around her finger.
She blinked out of her trance and returned her full attention to Aldor. "But I was born and raised in Minas Tirith. I love it there too. And my companion, Deva," Peony looked around the inn to see if she could spot Deva, "I'm not sure where he has run off to, but he is a dwarf from the Lonely Mountain. Now tell me Mr. Aldor, how is it that you ended up so far from Rohan?"
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"Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." - Mark Twain
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