Ты are walking by yourself to the Prancing пони when someone bumps into you. Ты twisted your ankle and fell, the fall was much harder than Ты thought it would be. A strong hand assists you. Ты take it and look into the eyes of the stranger. "Do Ты need help walking?" he asks. "Yes. Would Ты mind helping me?" He puts an arm around your waist and takes Ты to the inn. When Ты get there he rests Ты in a chair and elevates your leg. "Is it broken?" Ты ask, a little nervous that a stranger is helping you. "No, but maybe sprained." He puts some cloth on your ankle and tightens it for...
All that is Золото does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a огонь shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be Blade that was Broken, The crownless again shall be king. — Bilbo's poem about Aragorn
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