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lay of leithian, or, why decima is no longer allowed to propose thread ideas while manic
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"You mean them letting anyone call them 'hound,' or what I'm calling them?"

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"I was thinking the latter, but is there also a story to the former?"

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"Not really a story, though it's just not their usual style. Probably though they were pretending to be an actual dog for some reason, or just elves are idiots and never noticed they're sapient."

"For Serendipitous Kill - it's a bit of a joke about some elements of their fate. I was thinking it might annoy them into talking. Sadly, they like it."

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"At least you tried."

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Doggy grin.

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Headpat?

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They lean happily into her hand.

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Pet pet.

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Good person! Nuzzle.

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She's flattered Serendipitous thinks so.

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They lick her hand a little.

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She giggles.

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Beren smiles, softly, and gives Serendipitous Kill an ear scritch.

Maybe the journey won't be quite as tedious as she'd feared.

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Their traveling companions seem to be working out okay.

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So far, yeah.

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Hopefully things stay smooth.

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...Hopefully.

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They reach the outskirts of the Isle of Werewolves a while after. They haven't met any significant resistance yet, though there's been a frequent feeling of being watched. Finrod disguised them as orcs as they passed into what could be considered Enemy territory, and he has them moving carefully.

Unfortunately, they'll have to pass by the tower - the entire vale is in sight of it - but there's a road by that Finrod hopes they won't be challenged on.

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They're challenged, of course. Why wouldn't they be?

The man who stops them - no man, for he flew from the tower in a whirlwind of flame - seems amused. "Who comes through my land so boldly?" he asks, "Wearing false skin, and not even declaring themselves?"

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The illusion over them snaps.

"Those who would seize our own fate," she says. "Let us pass."

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He laughs.

"Fate is not so easily seized."

And he whirls toward Finrod, lashing out with flame and song.

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Finrod's ready, raising his voice in counter-song -

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Beren grabs Luthien's hand, pulling her away from the fight some.

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"Should we not help?"

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"From a little distance. We don't want to trip over them," she says, tone clipped, examining the fight. "Or have everyone injured at the same time."

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