Dec 25, breakfast
"Ellon, you were needed here." Erebemlin's voice was like ice.
Taitheneb's eyebrows raised. "Silmaethor, you did not call."
Erebemlin's eyes blazed. "You entwine your heart too much with these mortals, ellon. Your allegiance is with your king!"
Taitheneb's eyes flickered, but he drew himself tall, and bowed slightly. "As you wish, Silmaethor. How is the king?"
Amroth looked up from his breakfast and replied, "I'm a blacksmith named Fingon, my elvish friend. And Amroth is not very well at all."
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