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Handing Frodo to her father – the unfortunate hobbit looked half dead,
successfully distracting Elrond – Arwen dismounted, and handed Asfaloth
to the grooms.
Stepping back, she felt an unyielding body behind her. “Just
where do you think you are going?” a low voice growled.
Heart sinking, Arwen turned to face her accuser.
“Glorfindel! Thank you for letting me borrow Asfaloth. He
is much faster than my own horse!”
His expression darkened. “You did not ‘borrow’ him. You
stole him – again.
I warned you before – your brothers and I will tell Aragorn every
embarrassing tale of your childhood!”
She paled. “Glorfindel, no!”
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