Cook got to her feet an frown on her face. She grabbed her sturdy, oak rolling pin and made for the door of the kitchen. She eyed the Elf with whom she'd been having tea. 'This isn't anything to do with the dark hairel Lady I saw leaving my kitchen just before I saw you is it?'
‘Come on, won’t you,’ she called to Emlin, who’s face seemed a whiter shade of pale as he listened to Ginger. She shook her rolling pin at the stairs in the common room. ‘And don’t you worry none, you’ll be safe with me and my pin. Just might need someone though to talk some sense into the Elves up there.’
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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