*walks through one of the quieter market places of Minas Tirith, wearing a large hooded cloak as he shops. Dark things are in this city now, and he must be careful to disguise his figure, hide his ears and speak carefully so that he doesn't accidentally slip in any Sindarin or Quenyan and give himself away
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*notices her vacant expression and cannot help but worry, his natural instincts taking over*
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::tilts her head up and is taken back by his ethereal beauty . . . it's some trick, isn't it, some trick she hasn't left at all she hasn't run away but someone's tricking her because no one is rightfully this beautiful and touching her::
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