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Drabbles  by Acacea

The Colour of the Stones

When she stands at her window she can see spread below the place she has left Dol Amroth for.

They call it the White City. She often wonders why.

The stones they say are white, gleaming when the sun rays fall on them, the reflection glaring enough to make one shade their eyes, but to her seeing the land ever decked in shadow, they have only always been grey and foreboding.

She watches everyday, hoping to see once the white city old songs and poems speak of, and her husband dreams of, but she does not think she ever will.

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