they smoked in silence for a while, and the sun shone on them; slanting into the valley from among the white clouds high in the west. legolas lay still, looking up at the sun and sky with steady eyes, and singing softly to himself. at last he sat up. ‘come now!’ he said. ‘time wears on, and the mists are blowing away, or would if you strange folk did not wrestle yourselves in smoke. what of the tale?’
— Aug 16, 2024 08:03PM
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