[The sun was rising over Minas Tirith and Faramir, his
mountain eagle daemon perched on the wall at his side, watched the light washing across the white stones of the city with obvious affection. Gondor was his home. The people that were beginning their day in the city below him were his people. He liked to observe them from the gardens to remind
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My lady.
[He bowed, attempting to conceal his embarrassment and wondering how much of his conversation with his daemon had been broadcast.]
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