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Lothuialwen crossed her arms as she stood in front of Haldir, her entire posture radiating stubborn determination. “Forgive me, Lord Haldir, but I do not regret my actions.”
The Galadhrim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hiril, you are a good warrior and have a keen mind. Why must you be so stubborn?”
It had been months since she had been home. Delicate hands were now calloused and strong, her thin arms taut and muscled as never before. Long brown hair, once worn flowing around her shoulders, was now tied back in a tight bun and covered in a glimmering grey hood that shifted with the light.
She tapped softly on the door of the little home on a high flet.
“Iell nîn, what do you wish to do with your life?”
Mother and daughter sat under the branches of a tall mallorn, the silver-green dappled light dancing over their weaving. Lothuialwen’s hands stilled and she nearly snapped the delicate golden thread as the unexpected question hung in the air.