21. The Choices of Master Samwise
Gilthoniel A Elbereth! A star to maim a spider; seared with intolerable light, she is gone.
And what now, dear Master? Kneeling, holding your hand, I cannot release it.
Do not leave me here alone!
Forgive your Sam, he must take up your burden. Bitter comfort now, the glimpse of your face, pale and fair, carried into the dark.
Orcs speak of an Elf-warrior. Despairing, I hear, ‘Never leave your master!’
You are taken. I have failed.
Forgive your Sam.
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