The vast hall of Thamas Lorn was silent that morning. Curiosity drew him to the armory of the Mithdirith, where spears and shields were displayed neatly against the wall. After a few weeks in the presence of the Mithdirith, Armanduil was considering whether he would or would not step forth among their ranks. He stopped before a delicate crafted spear and let his hand glide along the shaft. Gently he took the spear in hand, it was light of weight yet the metal tip was sharp and sturdy. He held the spear firmly in his hands as he inspected it, and a flash of memory rekindled his heart.
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