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The Stone Tree
Awakened by unsettled dreams, I see the elf walk by, singing. His voice reminds me of cavern streams splashing over rocks, catching lanterns' gleam in their spray. Elves are strange to me, but not this one. Eyes, deep as Khazad-dűm, are lit by the stars of Durin's crown in Kheled-zâram. Tall, he is, and strong like a stone spire jutting from a cave's floor.
He would not like that I compared him to stone, preferring always trees as elves do. That alone remains strange in him. For our friendship, I will call him a tree. A tree carved from stone.
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