Galadriel wakes up with a start. She looks around, puzzled. She has not idea what's going on, as she didn't bother to read the last page and a half. She shrugs, pulls a thermos of coffee from some pocket on her dress, and starts to spin around in circles...
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"For this is what your folk would call magic, I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem to use the same word of the deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel."
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