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[Gerardo Martel]

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them. That day the camp was moved and was brought right between the arms
of the Mountain. The rocks echoed then with voices and with song, as 
they had not done for many a day. There was the sound, too, of 
elven-harps and of sweet music; and as it echoed up towards them it 
seemed that the chill of the air was warmed, and they caught faintly the
fragrance of woodland flowers blossoming in spring. Then Bilbo longed to