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Húrin keyed the lock and slipped into the room where his two young cousins were imprisoned. “Here,” he commented as he produced half a loaf of bread, a bottle of preserves, cookies, sunflower seeds, a few slices of ham and a fork or two and breadknife, setting them on a chair. “Where did you find the monkey, and why did you turn it loose in the guest hall?”

“At the wharf. A sailor from the Silver Moon was playing his violin and the monkey was dancing for money until his captain called through a porthole for him to stop. Faramir and I threw one of the sheets from Uncle’s skiff over it and caught it, and it got away before we made it to our rooms!”

“Well, Lady Celebithiriel just presented your father with a letter of protest. It took her crystal pendant and dragged its tail in her soup.”


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