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Catherine goes to fairyland and meets some Feanorians
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What a cooperative prisoner. Eventually (if he's tracking how far they've travelled, they're in northern Germany now) he'll be tugged out of his cage to a fascinated audience in a glittering inside-of-an-enormous tree trunk.

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"Awww, I like him! Thank you!"

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"My pleasure."

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"Well. Isn't this an adventure."

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"I don't see what he's doing at all," he says, putting on a pair of eyeglasses for a better look.

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"Maybe you can only see it when he does it? I don't want you to kill him yet, though, I've just met him."

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"How very thoughtful of you."

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"Well, we can't take too long, it'd get too hard to keep the kids out of the way. But you're welcome to dinner first, if you'd like."

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"Mmm. And what do fairies eat?"

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"We mostly don't. We can live drinking dew off of leaves. But we have feasts for special occasions, and this surely must be one."

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"I suppose so. Who am I to deny my hosts the opportunity to celebrate."

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They bring out lots of plates of food. There's singing.

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Well, he figures he might as well eat before they kill him.

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He should! The food and the wine and the ...flower nectar... and everything else is delicious.

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Oh cool. He compliments the food.

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The fairies seem delighted. They drink. Some of them pet his hair and clothes.

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Thaaat's kind of weird but whatev - 

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- the last thing he remembers is being in Scania, teaching his ten-year-old son how to fire a bow. His hands weren't so weathered, a moment ago, and his eyesight was a little sharper, and he didn't have an ache in his shoulder. More importantly, he wasn't in a beautifully sculpted cage, surrounded by a bunch of people he doesn't recognize in a room he's never seen.

 

"Excuse me," he says to the nearest fairy, "I don't believe I know where I am."

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"I think that's just too bad, really, but I'll ask - hey, is he allowed to know where he is?"

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"Hmm? No. He'll take it back with him when he dies and if all goes well he won't have much opportunity to retaliate but I'd rather not rely on it."

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"Could you tell me how I got here."

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The man turns and looks at him more seriously, squints, looks intensely puzzled.

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He's really puzzled too!

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"That's not him."

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