i Nili o i Ardanole Newsletter:

Your source for Lord of the Rings Updates, Poetry, Art, Parody and Satire.

Issue 8, Volume 1. August 9th, 2003.

Editor: Perian.
Primary Contributor and Reporter: Xara.
Additional Contributing Writers: Anduwen, Lady Galadriel, Prongsie, Frodo Baggins.
Special thanks to: Paddy aka Sauron. 

In this issue:
Headlines: The Wedding Ring by Perian.
LotR4: Attack of the Spammer! by Xara.
Hail to the Fans by Xara.
Thoughts from the Heart by Lady Galadriel.
Hobbits Definitely Had the Right Idea by Xara.

In every issue:
NEW: Fantasy Fan Fiction. This fortnight: Star Gift: The Prologue by Anduwen Evensong.
NEW: Classifieds.
Letters to the Editor.

The Wedding Ring
by Frodo's Editor Perian.

  UP, Bag End, The Shire. On 1 August 2003, this Age of this world, Sauron stunned everyone from West of Moon to East of Sun with her proclamation of love for and marriage proposal to her long-time arch-enemy Frodo Baggins, Esq. I have managed to contact many of those closest to the couple, and Frodo himself for the following article. Sauron, however, was not available for an interview.
  This of course brings up the question: Will the ring for this marriage be the Ring? "NO!" shouted Frodo. "I made her agree to that right of. I get to keep it. It's mine, my own! My precious..."
  When asked about his initial reaction to Sauron's proposal, Frodo said "It is ... still sinking in. Flattered, though. Very flattered. Pass me that ale, would you? No, not the mug, the barrel..."
  Their cohorts were unprepared for this sudden announcement. "Well, Sauron and I had a conversation ... and she mentioned asking for Frodo's hand," said Prongsie, a close fiend- I mean friend of the couple, who is to be Maid of Honour (be sure to capitalise it if you value your life), "But I totally thought she was kidding! So, when I read the message I thought, Yowsa! This is way cool! I am thrilled that two of my friends are getting married!"
  Xara, who is fulfilling what has been "an ambition since [she] was four" in being named flowergirl, had a similar, but more personal reaction. "My initial reaction was complete shock...then I started laughing, I couldn't take it in. but now that I'm used to the idea my feelings are very mixed, I'm very happy for Frodo and Sauron but at the same time very confused, because I had always thought of them as playful enemies, I suppose this wedding is going to change everything ... As a huge fan of Frodo I had sometimes hoped it might be me engaged to him instead of Sauron, but let's face it I'm too tall. I don't know how Frodo and Sauron are going to cope with that but there'll be arguments you mark my words!
  "I must admit," she continued, "I had thought something like this would happen. I came extremely close to naming my last article about the two "Friends or Foes? Suspected love affair between a Dark Lord and a Hobbit" and only changed it at the last minute... I hadn't thought it would be this soon though, I was expecting them to take much, much longer, and I wonder whether they should be rushing it like this or not, I suspect some of those old grudges haven't been dealt with properly and are still lurking under the surface there. Sauron is overcome by love at the moment, but she won't give up her old ways as easily as clicking her fingers."
  Neither Sauron nor Frodo has had much luck in prior relationships. Sauron was formerly married to one of her own orcs who, around the time of her proposal to Frodo, disappeared under suspicious circumstances. Frodo, on the other hand, has had a life devoid of long-term, meaningful relationships, though he did not lack entirely for female companionship. "Well, there was Goldberry, but her husband made me rather nervous. Then Galadriel, who I proposed to, but Celeborn and Gimli were rather in the way, and she was afraid of the Ring I offered her. And Arwen ... well, she was head over heels for me. Gave me the Evenstar even- it didn't happen as in the movie, peeps!- but she was too young." It would seem that their inner circle was somewhat uninformed on the matter, however: "You mean to tell me that Sauron has had past relationships?" cried Prongsie when asked. "No way! Frodo had relationships with elves!? Where was I when all this happened?! I am outraged that my two friends have not confided in me..."
  What is this grand event to include? No one seems to know. "I've wondered about it, but I can't find my fiancee to ask," said Frodo with a troubled expression, stealing furtive glances eastward. 
  "I only know that Sauron wants to have it in mid September when Diamond of Longcleeve can come," said Prongsie. "I have been trying to discuss the wedding with her ... but sadly we are both quite busy."
  "[I] have not been given any details as to the ceremony by bride or groom as yet," said Xara, "So unless they are planning to elope and have a secret ceremony under the stars (I have by now learnt not to put anything no matter how strange or crazy past those two) I'd say they haven't arranged any thing yet." She is also guesses that if one were to get cold feet, it would be Frodo. "I think in his heart Frodo is still a little unsure but then again, I know not what goes on in the minds of others so that is mere speculation."
  What will be the public opinion of this bonding? "It is a momentous occasion and I think that the public will be stunned, to say the least. But they will come around really fast," says Prongsie. Xara elaborates: "[Will this be] a stain on Frodo's reputation? Well if you consider a reputation for wild and unlikely love affairs a stain then I would say yes." But she does not think this will affect the upcoming movie The Return of the King: "I don't think their marriage will mar the build up to Return of the King, it's an account of history, not present day events, it'll be nice to know that they made it up after all that in the end."
  The chances for this marriage seem an ambiguous matter. "I think its a very 50/50 thing at the moment, it could really go either way. Those two are very unpredictable, and both, although truly wonderful in their own ways, probably rather difficult to live with. I think it's too much to hope that no arguments will break out, but I think they have a good chance at success if they can really truly absolutely renounce their past. At the same time, likelihood of failure is rather high as well, like I said before," states Xara.
  Will the wedding take place? Will the bonding last? Will the two most prominent leaders of the opposing forces of ancient Middle-earth last? Keep it here for developments.
  For the Unassociated Press, I'm Perian.

LOTR4: Attack of the Spammer!
Warning: This article is not for the faint hearted.
(Note from Editor: "Or excitable persons under about ten, or those who are about to get their first e-mail address.")
by Xara.
  Every person who has ever had an email address will be familiar with that vile, that crawling, that pathetic, that lower than pond-scum, annoying, intrusive and despicable human creation, more commonly known as SPAM. We all know that feeling of deep disgust you get when some idiot gets hold of your email address and fills your inbox with debt help, credit card scams and pornography. Such an evil is common-place in the world of today. But how, we ask ourselves, would the inhabitants of Middle Earth react to the inestimable insult of being sent SPAM? I will now attempt to imagine the response to some of the more common forms of SPAM that some of our beloved evil-squelching characters might display. Please note; all of the following scenarios are based on the SPAM e-mails I receive daily, I did not imagine any of the contents of what is sent in the below paragraphs.
  I now ask you to imagine Frodo Baggins, youthfully appearing, innocent, charming well-to-do hobbit strolling into his study at Bag End and seating himself at his brand-new hobbit computer terminal. He logs into his email account(imalovelylittlehobbit@bagend.com) and finds to his delight that he was one new e-mail in his inbox. He eagerly clicks into his new e-mail, sits for a split second reading the opening line before falling from his chair in horror as the Spammer-sender asks him politely if he would like a penis enlargement! With one last, frightened glance at his computer screen Frodo runs from Bag End traumatised, in fits of hysterics, down the Bag Shot Row to Samwise's house and bangs fervently on the door. On the appearance of Samwise, Frodo collapses in a mess on the doorstep, jibbering incoherently. After sometime however, Samwise is able to discern that Frodo has recieved a horrifying e-mail of some sort. He marched up to Bag End, through the
door left wide open from Frodo's flight, takes one look at the offending e-mail still open on Frodo's computer screen and claps his hand over his mouth in horror, whilst Frodo faints with a thud in the background. The horror however quickly turns to fury that someone could send such an awful e-mail to his master and he quickly raises all the Shire, who, armed with their flaming torches and pitch-forks, set forth to find the source of the offending e-mail.
  I now ask you to turn your mind to an internet cafe in Bree, where a dark cloaked figure siddles shiftily in through the front door and slaps a couple of coins down on the counter. The cafe-keeper greets the man 'Strider' in a less than friendly fashion before pointing him to a computer at the back, in a dark corner. Strider makes his way over to the terminal and sits down, clicking his way through cyberspace to his e-mail account (shiftylookingsonofkings@nofixedaddress.com) and clicks into his inbox. He reads through some, the usual from the sons of Elrond about orcs running amok in the Misty Mountains, a memo from Gandalf about a Ringbearer who will soon be passing his way and could he keep an eye out for him ("Typical Gandalf," he thinks, "Always getting me to do everything for him.") and a note from Galadriel asking him what he said to Arwen to get her in such a huff, before his eyes fall on a strange e-mail he has never seen before. He clicks, and reads carefully every detail from the illusive sender, calling himself "Debt Help". Strider realises this must be an evil plot of Sauron's to lure him into a trap, offering financial planning indeed, last time a King of Gondor found that rubbish in his inbox there was a Battle of the Last Alliance. Strider leaves in cafe brooding, and deciding how best to take his revenge on the evil plotting Dark Lord.
  It is time to focus your attention on the Tower of Ecthelion, Minas Tirith where Denethor, the Steward of Gondor turns away from his palantir wild with panic, with only one clear notion in his mind. He must send an e-mail to Theoden warning him that Sauron's army has become greater and more terrible than ever before. He logs into his account (dontmesswiththestewardofgondor_orelse@minastirith.com) but as he begins to compose his e-mail, something else catches his attention. He's got mail! Denethor checks his inbox apprehensively, if this is another annonimous blank message he was going to hire a body guard, and opens the mail. His eyes widen in surprise, and then excitement as the flashy colourful e-mail informs him he has won a two-week holiday in Valinor! All he has to do is send his credit-card number to the e-mail address below and collect his prize. Denthor jumps for joy, two weeks in Valinor, just what he's always wanted! And rushes down the tower steps to tell his son Faramir (Boromir is currently abroad in Rivendell thinking that's the ideal place for a holiday, wait until he gets back and hears he missed out on Valinor!) who takes one look at the e-mail and sits his father down, trying to explain in ways the old man will understand, that this is just a credit card scam.
  And finally, if you could imagine the great halls of the Lonely Mountain please. Gimli is seated at one of a long row of computers surfing the net when a small blue panel from MSN Messenger pops up at the side of his screen informing him that he has just received an e-mail. He clicks on it and is taken into his inbox (galadrielishot@lonelymountain.com) where the new e-mail is residing. He opens it, but is confused to see that the message takes a while to load. Who could possibly be sending so many pictures in their e-mail? And then they appear...Gimli jumps from his chair in an instant and rips the computer from the stone wall, throwing it across the room where it smashes on top of another net-surfing dwarf's head. The dwarf jumps to his feet to, and demands loudly in front of the entire room of dwarfs, now watching intently, to know why Gimli had smashed the computer on top of his head. But Gimli has already gone, making his way down the mountain shouting threats and curses in dwarvish, brandishing his axe, shaking his fist with one clear idea in his mind, to find and destroy the evil spammer who sent him pornography, or die in the process!
  So there you have it, SPAM really is as evil as we've always thought it is, producing such reactions from those heroes of Middle Earth! So remember, next time you receive a SPAM email, you have good reason to be appalled!

Hail to the Fans
by Xara.
  When someone gets rich, famous and successful, everyone (well, almost) admires them, and recognises the work that they have done, to get where they are. This work is not to be denied, it's there for everyone to see. But what people don't see, what people, even the celebrities themselves often forget, is what the work was for. The arts and entertainment industry is for
just what their names suggest, arts and entertainment, for the people. For the fans. But what people don't realise even more than this, is that not only do these famous, rich, and often powerful people give to us, but we also give to them. Remember the last movie you went to see? You must have paid about ten dollars for that ticket. And remember when you read in a magazine about how the star of that movie had just bought themselves an old converted monastery in England, complete with ghosts, a hundred fully furnished rooms and a Quidditch pitch? That ten dollars you spent on the movie probably went paid for that.
  That's not to say that that person didn't deserve that converted monastery. They probably did. But what people forget is that fans play an equally important role in a person's success. And all too often these days, fans don't get recognition for their hard work. The risks they took sneaking out of the house so their family wouldn't know they'd gone off to see The Two Towers for the seventh time since it's release. Saving up all their pocket money and going without ice-cream for six months to buy the Extended Version of Lord of the Rings. We work as a team to make these people successful, each individual being no less important than the last.
  But all too often these days the people who we helped to fame and glory don't give us the respect we deserve. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of nice, friendly, fan-respecting celebrities out there who are more than happy to do us the simple courtesy of signing an autograph and perhaps refraining from suing us if we put a photograph of them on the net saying how damn well gorgeous and talented they are without asking first. But there are some, who have grown concieted, a tad big-headed, not wanting to admit that their success was not entirely brought about by themselves. We don't ask for their fame and fortune, they worked hard and earned that for themselves. All we ask for a little respect. That's right! R-E-S-P-E-C-T!
Find out what it means to me!
  But just remember, we the fans are important too. Without us, no matter how talented, charming, wonderful, drop-dead gorgeous, controversial or publicity seeking they are, they'd be no richer, famouser (is that a word?), powerfuler (I know that's not a word) or more successful (using correct grammar this time) than the next person. Also remember, if you don't
like a celebrity, tell your friends not to go see their movie. You never know, it might just knock their cash pile down enough to have to buy the luxury penthouse apartment rather than the 1,000 year old converted monastery! Fans have power too!

Thoughts from the Heart
by Lady Galadriel.

As time passes by, I wonder what the day will bring.
Will I finally be able to get through this day without any trouble?
I know that I can, with all the faith in my heart and
a smile in my soul.

I look to my friends for the help and support I need
and find it given freely from all around. Look no farther than you must, for close at hand is a loving and caring friend.
I am glad I have you as one! Stay and chat for a while
about the good and the bad. For together we can get through lives trials.
And always share a smile and a warm friendship!

Hobbits Definitely Had the Right Idea
by Xara.

  In all of life's many colourful, horrible and sometimes enjoyable experiences, there is none quite like shoe shopping. There is no experience that produces quite the same combination of bravery, frustration, loud, embarrassing arguments in public and sheer despair. Especially if you're shopping for school shoes. I realised this the other day as I toured shoe shop after shoe shop with my mother, trying to find a pair of school shoes that fitted my taste requirements and her practical, school-rule
abiding requirements.
  My school require's it's students to wear all black leather shoes, or all black sneakers to school. Yet this rule is never enforced and therefore not visually recognisable in the footing attire worn by my peers, hence the calamity. After two hours of arguing over shoes which fitted the school requirements but which I refused to try on, on the grounds of pride in my appearance and the fact that it wouldn't really matter anyway, I was turned out onto the street, and told I had one hour to find a pair of shoes that filled everyone's requirements or suffer my mother's choice. Well, you can imagine my distress at such a task, because, as my mother had rightly assumed, I was secretly of the opinion that no such pair of shoes existed.
  I wandered the streets, tired, hungry and feeling utterly depressed and forsaken. The prospect of going to school everyday for the next however many years wearing shoes in appallingly bad taste was more than I could bear. And then a thought struck me. Hobbits don't wear shoes. Could what I was now experiencing be the reason for this strange boycott of footwear? Could hobbits really have had the right idea after all? Did they finally come to their senses one afternoon whilst arguing over shoes, realising that they were going through pain and torture over a part of their lives that could be so easily discarded? If only we humans could have followed their sensible example, in casting away our shoes and freeing ourselves from the unbearable ordeal of shoe shopping!
  An hour later I returned from my quest to find the perfect shoe, hungry, downcast and empty handed. I looked on in horror as a pair of ugly black shoes that fitted so horribly perfectly on my feet was purchased on my behalf, and wished that I could be a hobbit and go to school barefoot. I suppose all I, and other unlucky school students like myself, can do is hope, wish, beg, pray, that some day (preferably some day soon) mankind comes to it's senses and follows our shorter, curlier-haired
counterparts' wonderful example, and cast aside our shoes. Let us destroy them! And rid the world of a terrible evil!

Star Gift:
The Prologue
by Anduwen Evensong.
     The window panes shook with fury as thunder sounded from above. Mariel, nine months pregnant, shivered, but not from the chill wind that had been slipping under the cracks of the old door. No, there was something else, something not right.
     Beautiful, dark-haired, twenty-five year old Mariel was home alone, as usual, in her and her husband's small new home in Statesboro, Georgia. Her husband, Nicholas, was away on business and she was left to unpack the seemingly endless amount of boxes stacked throughout the house alone. Determined not to be bed-ridden, as her mother had predicted, during her last few weeks, Mariel had kept herself busy by cleaning and unpacking, and readying the baby's room. The baby was due any day. Mariel hoped that Nicholas would be home in time for their baby's birth.
     Mariel settled herself slowly onto the ten year old, dirt-stained, used sofa as rain pounded on the roof, demanding entrance. The lightning flashed through the window behind her. Mariel counted: one-hippopotamus, two-hippopotamus...she got to five-hippopotamus then the thunder sounded its warning. Mariel divided the number of second it took the thunder to sound and divided by five, as she had been instructed to do when she had been a child. One, the storm was one mile away. Mariel picked up the "Better Homes and Gardens" magazine from the coffee table that doubled as a work desk for Mariel and Nicholas and began thumbing through the pages. Outside the wind picked up, carrying with it a torrent of dead leaves and acorn from the old Oak tree out front to a crash into the window.
     More lightning, the thunder was instantaneous. The storm was directly overhead now. Mariel stood up only to feel a gush of water pouring down her legs onto the cold stone floor beneath her. Her water had broken.
     Mariel rushed to the phone. Who could she call? She and Nicholas had only lived in Statesboro for a few short weeks. They knew no one, they hadn't even found Mariel a doctor yet. Mariel didn't know the number to the hospital, and she certainly didn't know where it was. She thought of the only number that could help her, the number that was universal for 'help!'- 9-1-1.
     She quickly mashed the three digits on the phone. Two short rings and then a voice.
     "Nine-one-one operator, what is the emergency?"
     "My water just broke. I don't have a car, my husband is g-," more lightning, "he's gone."
     "Ma'am, what is your address?"
     "1616 Harvest Way." more lightning, a huge clap of thunder.
     Mariel continued, "I'm new he-" and then the phone went dead. The electricity had gone out. Mariel fumbled in the dark for some matches and a candle that she had stocked away. She lit one candle quickly and was then seized by a contraction. She doubled over in pain, almost to the floor.
     When the contraction was over Mariel searched the hall closet for some towels and a blanket. She was going to have to deliver this baby alone. It was her worst fear, delivering alone, without her love, and on a night such as this...But Mariel thought that she could do it if she had to. Just as she spread a large hand-woven afghan upon the floor, another contraction hit her, this one was worse than the first. It hadn't even been five minutes since the other. This was going to be a strange and fast birth.
     She laid herself down on the blanket and began practicing her breathing. Another contraction. More lightning, brighter, and very close. With the lightning came more thunder, louder and more terrible than ever. Another contraction. The wind got stronger and pushed itself forcefully into the house from underneath the door cracks. The wind sounded as though it would beat a hole in the roof. Another contraction. Mariel wondered how she was going to handle this on her own. She was becoming dizzy and lightheaded. The pain was becoming too much to bare. Sights and sounds were all blurring and running together. Another contraction.
     Mariel could hear a knocking, pounding on the door, but it was distant, and she couldn't tell if it was just the rain or not. And then she thought she saw a kind face swimming before her eyes.
    But then she felt a strong and gentle hand grasp hers and a voice said to her, "It's going to be okay. I'm a paramedic ma'am."
     And then everything was gone.  Mariel had gone into a dream-like state, for in it Mariel WAS dreaming, or so she thought. In the distance she could hear someone telling her to push and she felt herself obey. But there was a  vision before her eyes, and it had nothing to do with her home.
    It was dark all around but for the tiny bright pin-pricks of light that flashed by as if Mariel was moving past them very quickly. And then suddenly there was a great white flash as the moving action slowed, and then stopped.
     In the background Mariel could hear the voice of the paramedic telling her it was close. But in her vision there was a splendid creature of the fairest smooth, white skin and the most mysterious silver eyes and long golden hair. It was clearly feminine, for it had a woman's shape, but there was something about it which made it seem other-worldly. It had to be the eyes, no human had eyes like that! The fair creature was standing on a glistening platform, all around her were sparkling silver towers of light. She stood majestically, poised and noble in her stature.
     And then the creature spoke to Mariel. It seemed to speak with it's mind rather than ruin the perfect silence by opening her perfectly rounded and pale pink lips to speak aloud. In Mariel's head the creature's voice was soothing, but sounded like the tinkling of little silver bells, it was amazing. It said to her, "Do not feaar Mariel. I am not here to harm. I am here to bring forth a message. I am the Star-Queen, the last of the royals. As you are giving birth even now, things are taking place that shall forever alter life for you and the world you live in. A star, my star, my home, the most ancient of the stars is dying. And when it dies, so shall its people, my people, for we are the spirit of the star itself. We are the last of the Star-Dwellers, a most noble and ancient race of magnificence. When we die our powers along with The Great Star's, shall be passed on to those born at the exact time of the Star's death, of our death, for even as there is death, there is life brought forth anew. The children born during the Great Death shall be extraordinary, for there shall be none other like them ever to come again! They shall surpass all in beauty, intellect and mind craft. They will be gifted with immortality and the Star-Dwellers' powers, which are, in themselves quite an extraordinary thing. These children shall one day unite and do miraculous things. I come to you now so that you may understand, and know that I pass on all my powers and things of being to your child, who shall resemble me in every way of life. There will not be many Star-Children, less than ten, but they will be almighty and powerful, with the abilities to control many things. Protect your heart from them, for they will steal it away as you become enrapt in them. Protect your child, in whom lays the fate of the Star-People. The Great Star dies quick."
    And all at the same moment Mariel felt something be torn from her body and saw a great white explosion. It was so beautiful and sad. And Mariel cried. The beautiful creature sang back to her, "Farewell Star-crafter, I shall be with you and your daughter always! Farewell." And the vision of the Star-Queen faded her beauty was unsurpassed and her face was full of sadness at her departure from the universe. But yet Mariel could see happiness as well, for the Star-Queen would live on within her child. No, the Star-Queen had said daughter... And the lovely vision faded then completely as the Star-Queen's image became a bright and searing light, but her words remained.
     A man's face loomed over Mariel as she really saw him for the first time. He had bright blue eyes and a kind smile. He held the baby wrapped warm in a towel in his arms.
     "It's a girl," he whispered, "do you have a name for her?"
     Mariel smiled as she thought about the Star-Queen and then a searching thought came to her.
     "Annael," she told him.
     "It means Star-Gift."
     "Star-Gift. Here she is, she's beautiful," he said and handed the baby girl to Mariel. Mariel looked at her baby and tears fell down her face, cool, blissful tears of joy. The baby had the fairest and smoothest of skin. Her hair was golden and her eyes were the color of shining silver. The baby cooed and it sounded like little tinkling silver bells.
     "Star-Gift" Mariel whispered, and a lovely peace filled her whole being.


WANTED: Bodyguard for one seriously evil but very clumsy Dark Lord. Potential applicants please send resumes to:
-Prongsie, Cloud # 9, Heaven.

LOST: Have you seen this dog? Description: Slightly smaller than a horse, shaggy brown hair, yellow fangs, sharp claws and a fondness fluffy pillows and attacking Rohirrim on horseback. Goes by the name of Leopold. Much missed and loved by his owners, please return our dear Leo to us safely!
Readers should note, this dog is highly dangerous when distressed and may attack on sight. If spotted please phone 9746 5588. Your own safety is your reward for phoning. Thank you.

PERSONALS: You: Tall, blonde, and like all elves slightly pallid-looking. Me: Tall for my species, fair, cute dimple in my chin. Where we met: On a starlit night, we were alone together (according to the movie, which is the way I fantasise it,) and you were angelic despite the drowned-barbarian look. Call me on my compact.


Hobbitish, Part III. (Pay attention, Sauron. You may need it when speaking with your in-laws.)

dei: (noun) A hobbitish rendering of the word day.
dumbledors: (noun) No, not a HP wizard, but a type of insect mentioned in hobbit poetry.
-e: (suffix) A feminine ending, particularly for names.
fastitocalon: (noun) a whale.
Frery: (month) A Breeish name for Afteryule or January.
Froda: (name) A masculine name, translated to Frodo. The meaning stems from the Germanic word meaning "noble".

Letters to the Editor.

  Dear Editor,
  This is not a normal Letter to the Editor and I apologise - but, please do me a favour and pass on my thanks to Nimrodel and Xara for not laughing at my "article". It was the first time that anything of mine had been published and I'm relieved to find that no one thought it was rubbish. So, thank you! Also, I was proud and pleased to have been published in a superb newsletter like I Nili o i Adranole! 
  Prongsie, AKA Hana.

  Dear Editor,
  I would first off like to express my surprise at your lack of answering comment to the letters to you last week, although I'm sure that you had your reasons. I was also very excited to see that I wasn't alone last time! I greatly enjoyed your Evolution of the Disclaimed article, it made perfect sense to me, we share the same opinion about that! And also, thank you very much Padfoot for clearing up some of those misconceptions, I'm all straightened out now! I'm very glad to see more members are starting to show their writing talent in the newsletter now! Makes for a more diverse edition don't you think? With the many different styles...Well, I look forward to next fortnight's issue!

(Whisper from the Editor: Yes, reasons. This newsletter is getting wonderfully, inbox-cloggingly huge, so I was trying to keep it down to 50kb. This week, even without the replies, I shall not be so lucky.)