Morithelion gently tugged the mane of the horse, whispering to him in Sindarin. His words were gentle, the beast being but an animal and one who he knew would never judge him. He sighed as they came to rest, and peered out over the open stretch of land. In the distance, he noted a clustering of lights shining in the darkness. The elf cocked his head, for he knew this city, though only in tales and by word of mouth.
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