Thorin raised his cup even higher. The future seemed so dark, and the way through to the light so slim. Not which way that precious old dead bitch laying yonder on the road would bring ye. Disappointment was never a thing you looked for, but it had a wonderful way of clearing the mind.
The rhythmic thrusting of the light made the eye seem alive; to be beating like a heart. He spoke with very un-Cuthbertian quiet. Her old throat must be lined with slate, Jonas thought. Birds circled, but they were vultures, not gulls, and the shimmering, mist-topped stuff before the two boys wasn’t water.
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