She took the flagon and bowed her head respectfully at his toast, reminded inevitably of other times she had received or presented a cup. She had dreams of a victory celebration in which she would present the cup to her uncle and then to Lord Aragorn. Whether they were true dreams or no, she could not say, but she had hopes that they were.

"My brother might say that you have poor vision," she teased, "but I thank you for the honor nonetheless."