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In reality I’m sleeping sheltered under a tree in the White mountains, weary in body and mind. And I dream about meeting an esteemed elf with the name Seregrian, praising me for something I have created and rewarded me with a song, ale from strange lands and a table filled with delicious food. Even a wonderful jewel was a part of that reward, which I felt undeserved, but she would have none of it.
Just prior to the revels at Mereth-en-Ivon, Gilberian plies her harp for Ingrasion, the Master of Song for Bar-en-Acharn, before The Ensemble begins...