"There is really nothing much to say of myself. I am on an errand with my friend. We have come from Minas Tirith." Peony watched as Faragorn took a large gulp from his brandy.
"And you? Where do you hail from?" Peony looked quickly around the inn for a moment. Just to see what was happening around her. Not really anything she would bother with.
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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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