“It’s not like they’re going to burn down your temple,” he soothed. Sylvannas’s pupils contracted as she got lost in memory. The burning houses and corpses after they torched it. The screaming faces of terror as people fled the scene of that horrific act. “Out! OUT!” she roared as her pupils dilated again, pointing her finger at the door. “What? What’s wrong?” Frodo asked in his innocent little hobbit manner. “That’s how they died. My whole village was burned by them, by the riders. They had wraiths under their control, and they were all hobbits, all of them! That’s why I was so reluctant to let you in my temple, and that’s why you have to leave. OUT!” she confessed. Frodo left the temple and sat outside, under the steps, feeling rejected. He could understand why Sylvannas was so distrustful of hobbits, but they were wraiths. They had been struck by the swords, and hadn’t got the shard removed in time. Frodo remembers when he almost became one. The elves were the only ones (with Gandalf) who could save him. She still has a secret, he thought, and I’m going to find out what it is, sooner or later.