Fin was still grumbling when he woke, and as he ate his breakfast, a shadow was cast over him.
“Where was Gilanor?” Fin’s lose cut deep, for he loved that mare and she him. He felt like crying inside, yet years of charm blocked his emotions to only a shadow of their real selves. However, he refused to talk to anyone and the rest of the group left him alone. Not even the fact that Aenara would have danced with him could console him.
As he rose to see everyone packing their horses for the days ride another question leapt into his mind, how would he ride now, and who with?
And his packs were gone, he had nothing left except the things that he wore, his sword and knives, and his pack of lembas. Fin buried his head in his hands, poor Gilanor!
[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: the real findorfin ]
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