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One day, Bray'li'Nhal, the most majestic of pointy ear'd children did happen upon a tree. . . but this was no ordinary. This tree belonged to a man of questionable sanity. For you see, his eyes gleamed with integrity, but his was ever confused. He once wore upon his head a blue hat; silly that. Before Nhal, stood Alansaer, the man who lived elsewhere. "I see you found my place of solitude, that you did." Nhal eyes the man in the pointy blue hat in disbelief, and ponders, "What do you benefit from living here old man?" Alansaer blinks with a straight, "I'm not old. . . that I am not" Nhal's face does pucker in regret and self imposed nun-whipping. His eyes wander about what the man calls home, to these gnarled branches. "Sir, do you have no loved ones?" Alansaer responds, "Yes, that they are. They are all around, they are." Bray'li'Nhal's eyes are bewildered and stunned. He's never heard a being of such philosophical. "Are your friend's the trees and the animals?" "No! That wood be crazy, that it would."