She was going to the dungeon to visit Fain, and- Then go see to her. She was more his own age, and beautiful, and she needed him. And in the wind a thousand insane voices seemed to cry, ten thousand, overlapping, drowning each other. It was my honor.
Hurin was staring at a big, blackened circle of ground that marred the brown grass of the village green. With a groan, she sank back, rubbing her arm and concentrating her thoughts on not touching the knife. Suddenly Selene smiled, and dropped a half-mocking curtsy. A dozen high-collared coats of the finest wool and as well cut as any he had ever seen on a merchant's back or a lord's, most embroidered like feastday clothes.
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