Brandywood

"I used to brush my sister's hair when she was still a little child." Daerundros said soothingly as she tugged gently against the mess that was Ariagne's hair. It was a fair-clad gloomy night, a lantern seated beside Daerundros to give her illumination as she battled with the tangled bush of Ariagne's untidy and unkempt hair.
"I though' Elves were immor'al?" Ariagne's voice piped up in the dark. Daerundros smiled to herself as she took a small section of Ariagne's hair and began weaving it into a delicate braid.

Here, I give you freedom, my love, my dear.

For I know, you don’t need protection, you know no fear.

I give you time, time to think, time to decide..

But please, my love, choose my side..

Know this, I love you more than I can define..

Will you ever be mine?...