Panno i hûl, mellon nín!
Fill the cup, my friend!
As long as we dwell in Arda
After the grapes are being thrown into a basin, the elves crush them with their bare feet to obtain the juice.
For a moment, memories arose…
More than six thousand years ago, in the age of the Noldor, they had dwelled in Beleriand, the mighty realm between the Ered Luin and the grinding ice of the Helcaraxë.
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