[ elrond winces as the projection runs through his mind. old memories sear close to the surface. white sails burn black in his memory which shifts to a statue wreathed in nature's ivy. a premonition? if he was stronger, elrond could have held onto it with his own innate power, but it slips through his fingers like dust.
all that makes him an elf is slipping away. what will it leave with, when it burns clean through? the world isn't large enough for heroes and monsters at once. there's too much danger of confusion between the two categories, elrond thinks numbly. ]
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all that makes him an elf is slipping away. what will it leave with, when it burns clean through? the world isn't large enough for heroes and monsters at once. there's too much danger of confusion between the two categories, elrond thinks numbly. ]
How do you know?