...there is a figure over the hills...
"What?" you ask, startled.
"It's just that I was thinking of you," he replies,
"and what you used to be. How much you've changed since you've
been gone!" He grows sullen. "And how much our country has
changed... Everything is in havoc. You ought to see it. And, yet, you
ought not. You surely would be killed." He sighs. "It is a
shame, isn't it? You want to go home. And so do I." He looks over
the rolling hills.
"You want to go home as well? But why can't you?" Suddenly,
you're very curious.
He gazes at you wistfully. There is something in his eyes you can't
put your finger to, but it's warm and tender. You shudder and look
away. He speaks. "I can't help but think of what you used to look
like, my sweet elf Queen. Your hair was chestnut brown, like my horse,
Felen, here, and long and soft. I used to like to ripple my fingers
through it." He reaches out and plays with your chopped hair.
You sigh and...
when he suddenly turns and grins at you.
