“Do you ever think about going back to Lindon?”
“And... doing what, exactly?” Gildor moved aside as one of the canvas covered wagons moved to a different position in the caravan.
“Rebuild it,” suggested Galadriel. “The soil is yet rich and not everything was destroyed.”
“Perhaps some buildings yet stand, but too many hopes and dreams died there. When I took leadership of these refugees, I did so knowing they had no desire to return to the ruin.”
“What about you?” pressed Galadriel as Gildor mounted his horse. “What is your desire?”
Gildor sat in silence, a smile brightening the mood of his departure. “Knowledge, as always, and I learn more doing than reading.”
“Ever like his father,” murmured Galadriel as he nephew rode away.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gildor, Galadriel