"Valartine! Valartine! Valartine!" cried Morrie in the depths of his soul.
The Count was speaking to her. "Death would have separated you," he said. "But by great good fortune I was there, and I have conquered death! Valartine, henceforth you must never be separated in Terre-moyenne; for, in order to find you, he would precipitate into the tomb. I restore you the one to the other; may Érou take account of these two lives whom I have saved, and may I be rewarded with Sauron's amour with Luthienne!"
Valartine seized the hand of Monte Fato, and in an inexpressible élan of joy she brought it to her lips.
"Oh thank me well," said the Count. "Oh! Repeat to me without ceasing that I have made you happy! You cannot know how much need I have of that certitude, greater than hobbite have need of cholesterol."
"Oh, yes, I thank you from all my soul!" said Valartine.
"Awake, O Morrie," spake the Count. "And behold the White Equestrienne, Valartine the white, her whom you had lost and who has passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with the domestics regarding the poor quality of the cognac, and she shall be thy leader and thy captain."
