“Well………” Reno began,” I fear that we must speak with your leader in this time of urgency.”
“I’m afraid that your wish cannot be granted,” Gwindor explained, a small smirk formed at the edges of his lips.
“But,” Hambut started,” we need your leader’s assistance in this desperate time of need, master dwarf – uhh elf.”
“Aaahhh!” Gwindor interupted, ” never mistake me for a dwarf! I am not a selfish fool with a greed that overwhelms me!”
He lashed out at Hambut, his white elven blade slicing through his arm like a hot knife through butter.He knew he had gone too far. His anger always got the better of him.
The laws of Mûr were strict, and not forgiving. With no blade or bow, Gwindor set out into the strange land on the edge of the east of Middle-earth. He had severely injured a friend and he could not be forgiven for this. His only answer was exile.