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lay of leithian, or, why decima is no longer allowed to propose thread ideas while manic
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Kiss. "Good."

"We should wake Finrod up and get out of here."

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"Fine. As long as Huan's in charge of entertaining him."

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"After the werewolves, I don't think one elf will be a problem for them."

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"Finrod," she says, voice solemn despite her smile, "Was so bored he started singing off-key."

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"How terrible."

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"The worst torture imaginable."

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"Should subject Sauron to it."

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"Why do you think Finrod's drugged?"

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"Again, I mean, where he can't drug him."

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"Sounds fun sometime." Kiss. "C'mon, let's wake him."

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Kiss!

All right Finrod, time to get up. Poke poke.

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Ugh he doesn't wanna wake up. (Mumble grumble.) His head's fuzzy...

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She sings some focus and clarity for him.

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He wakes up properly.

"What happened?"

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"It seems the house of Finwe cannot be trusted with my beloved's safety. Up you get, Finrod Felagund, I am here to rescue you as well."

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He grumbles and drags himself to his feet. "This was her idea, you know."

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"But obviously she could never do anything wrong, so I will chastise you instead."

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He sticks his tongue out at her. "I think you might be biased."

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Mygwainor kisses her wife's cheek. "The truth is never biased, though."

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"I'm right, and she agrees with me. You're outnumbered. It's hopeless."

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Dramatic sigh. "Can't be helped at all?"

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"Best to surrender to the invevitable."

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"I'm usually not one for surrender... But I'll take that as advice."

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"Come on," she says. "Let's get going."

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"North, then," she says, heading up and out of the excavated dungeons.

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