i Nili o i Ardanolë Newsletter:
The Second Anniversary Issue.
(We finally fixed the 'ë'!)
Issue 54, May 29th, 2005.
Until further notice, this Newsletter has been commandeered by the free, and not free, and very expensive, peoples of Middle-earth. Thank you. 
In this issue:
A Letter from Tari Rosemary Baggins.
Recollections of the Great War by Bandobras Took.
Does This Make Me Look FAT? By Sauron.
Memoirs of an Evil Creature by Nazgul #3.
Why I Stayed Behind by Celeborn.
The Fate of Undómiel: For Death Is Only Another Journey by Arwen Undómiel.
  Hallo there.
  You don't know me. And I don't know you. It would probably be better to keep it that way, for all our sakes, but I'm not going to. You see, someone whom I will not name asked me to write an article for this issue, and here I am.
My name is Tari Rosemary Baggins. Yes, that's right, Baggins. I am the result of this newsletter's existence. It created me. Without a certain series of articles, I would never have come into being. Doesn't that make you feel special? You contributed to bringing to life an entirely new life, a very unique and, though you cannot see me to prove it I trust you to believe me in this one, quite beautiful one. Don't let the big words fool you, though; they're just 'cause my ata taught me well. I just turned eleven. Quick, huh? Time moves different here in the fictional world. Enough about me. I'm here to talk about YOU.
  Didn't expect that, did you? Yep, I've been given permission to write the bluntest, most honest, or at least as far as I know, as I wasn't here for it all, account of the past two years. After all, who in all the fictional world is more qualified than me to do that? It created me, and I've had my hand in the editing room shaping it once in a while. Kind of.
  Since the staff have this issue off, we characters have reign for once. It's nice. Not only will you be hearing from a couple of elves and my own ancestor, but I get a chance to say whatever I please about them! The staff, I mean. Ha! That's what you get for being such truants.
  See, for those of you who don't know, it all started like this:
  Once there were these really incredible people. Er, hobbits. Hobbits and things. Like an Eye. Incredible beings, let's put it that way. And they were so amazing and so powerful that long, long after their age ended, people were still writing about them. That's when people got really interested, when they read these writings. And because these ... beings ... were so powerful, they began to take over people's lives. Two of the most important were two who seized hold of a 'host' body first. Those being Sauron and Frodo Baggins.
  Yeah, I know some of you know all this. Just be quiet, you.
  So, they took over two people who already had something of a weakness for adopting alternate selves. Sauron inhabited Duké, aka Padfoot, and upon seeing his mortal enemy gaining cultural power Frodo slipped into the mind of Perian, both of All Things Lord of the Rings. Xara, host of that locale and so in a way existing like a host of hosts, a queen bee, or something, well, she thought this was a good opportunity. I mean, hey, how often do you get non-giant immortals - and would you stop calling us midgets, thank you very much, you overgrown tw- um. Yes. So how often do you get non-giant immortals and flaming eyes hanging around your message boards? She decided to make a head start on becoming a journalist, and asked Sauron for an interview. It became something of a debate. Really interesting stuff. Go read it, if only for nostalgia and that: http://groups.msn.com/AllThingsLordoftheRings/interviewswithadarklordandahobbit.msnw
  Now, it was around this time that F'odo's host found John Howe's site. She'd be looking forever for that. So the interview thing gave her a few ideas, and an article came out of it. So with all these articles floating around, there was bound to be a newsletter come out of it. And there was. And is. This one.
  You know about most of the rest of it, and if you don't, you can go to the archives: http://inili.iwarp.com/archives.htm What I'm going to tell you is the unofficial story. After all, why have a fellow fictional alter-ego with great access to things like 'staff-exclusive e-mails' if that can't be exploited? Here's the stuff that goes on with the newsletter when you're not looking:
  [Names have been changed, as Tari did not request permission before- ARGH!]
  There. That gets rid of her. Now, as I was exposing:
  Dear staff and regular writers,
  After much discussion with [Prongsie], I am fiendishly pleased to announce the creation of a secret un/censored issue. That's right, everything you've wanted to write, but not had the nerve, or have been afraid it would be censored out (which it quite honestly might have.) Innuendo, profanity, violent content, and so on are all allowed. If you or anyone else wishes to write an article but not let it be attributed to you, that's fine, as everyone who wishes it will have aliases. The issue will be by-demand only, and written in invisible ink...  -[Titinius]
  An extract from a just-as-confidential 'staff party':

Archibald : What mangulations have you supervised and magically healed today?
Bob : LOL. 
Aye always a blast.
Burble :
Bob : Oh God don't get me started.
This has been the WORST day.
Archibald :
And what bottoms have you newly identified?
Bob : Oh Archibald. 
Oh God.
Archibald :
Sorry. Couldn't help it...
Bob :
Oh eew.
Diego : Bad imagery.

Bob : Not ONLY the bottom ... erm, the crown jewels so to speak.
Diego : UGH! BOB, I'M EATING! 
Bob : Of a 70 year old.
Sorry, Diego.
Diego :
Ew, ew, ew... Stoooop!
Bob : It was not pretty.
And it went downhill from there.
Diego :
I can imagine...
Bob :
Yeah please don't imagine if you're eating.
Diego : Bad, bad imagery...

  And another:

[Jenkins]: Great to know I have an alter-ego with a neurological illness. As if having an alter-ego weren't enough.
[Jeeves]: Well, you win some you lose some.
[Jenkins]: It's okay. I like to see him in a state of collapse.
  Later in that conversation:
And I said, 'Well, shouldn't there be a 'myselves' as well? I mean, what if you're schizophrenic?'
  Did you know that...
...The shortest recorded time put into writing an article for the i Nili Newsletter is approximately twenty minutes (eighteen minutes deliberating about what to write, two minutes typing up a statement that it would not be appearing)?
...Tomorrow occurs in less than one day (but will never be here, unless you think like Sam and Smeagol)? 
...Issue 40 (Peter Jackson) has a deadline only five days away?
...New Zealanders (in respect to people in other parts of the world) can, as a whole, see into the future?
...The birthday of the greatest director of our time is coming up next weekend?
...More than 60% of all statistics are made up on the spot? -[Fiddlesticks the Ferret]
  It's a strange thing when alters and egos collide.
Winken: I would like to know where to acquire a magic mushroom.
Blinken: From Pippin.
Nod: Woot!
Blinken: -Duct tapes her mouth.-
Winken: And where would I acquire a Pippin?
Blinken: He belongs to her.
Nod: Pippin. As in Pippin Took.
Winken: If that's the one with the mushrooms, yes.
Blinken: I must warn you ... he's a flirt.
Nod: He's been at it with me for years.
Blinken: Pippins are philanderers all.
  Now this one I don't remember:
  "Why don't you tell them about the time a sabre-toothed penguin tried to hijack the Ask Samwise Column? When the replies to all the letters were 'slorfistoration', but fortunately we managed to lure him out at the last minute with a bucket of fish and the real Samwise was restored just in time for the newsletter to go out. And then there's the letter I got from [Sirius Black] about leg wax and the effects of eating it on an empty stomach. Or that letter I sent you [ah, now this one I do] and [Remus Lupin] telling you whilst eating kalamata olives taste delicious after drinking Bailey's Irish Cream, Bailey's Irish Cream tastes like orc urine after having eaten kalamata olives. Or was it the other way around? Noodle pizza is neither as exciting nor as delicious as it sounds." - [Minerva McGonnegal]
  And I leave you with "A Funny Story", by one of those anonymous staff people.
  I was preparing the newsletter for send-off just this afternoon, everything was ready, it was all looking good, I was feeling proud of myself for actually answering the Ask Samwise's as I'd had some doubt about my ability in that area and, generally in an all-around good mood, I pressed the send button. The newsletter vanished. Not to extraordinary, that's what usually happens when I send e-mails. The worrying part was that it didn't show up again in my inbox (I had sent it to myself as well), or in my sent items box. "Sheefers," said I. The newsletter was gone. Kabush! And I didn't have a back-up...
   I quickly wrote to [Noodles], who had sent me the newsletter half-finished two weeks earlier, and asked her to send it to me again, whilst in the meantime I collected up all the columns I'd worked on since then and prepared to put them back in again to the new newsletter that [Noodles] would send me, complete with everyone's articles, reviews, fan fics, trivia questions etc, etc...[Noodles] wrote back...she didn't have it!!
   "Eru Almighty! Alright, Plan B! We start from scratch!" I hastily found an old issue in my inbox and deleted all the contents of it, creating a new blank newsletter template and copied and pasted everything I had into that. But still more than three quarters of it was missing! I wrote to everyone hoping against hope that they would have saved their contributions and be able to send them to me again! Meanwhile, [Noodles] started frantically (Ok, I don't actually know what she did, I'm speculating) searching for anything we were missing which might somehow be on her computer. We managed to recover trivia, Tolkienish, and my articles and then...
   AHA! [Noodles] found the old half-completed newsletter! We both collapsed with relief! In a matter of minutes everything was as it should be and the newsletter was once again ready to go (this is two hours after the dreadful incident). I made several back-up copies on disk and in various locations of my computer. Nothing, it seemed, could go wrong. I pressed send. The newsletter vanished. Brief panic on [Noodles]'s side of the computer, but, I told her, "Don't worry, I've got a back-up this time." I went to get the back-up.
  However, I accidentally pressed the wrong button, and was taken, not to the storage place of my first back-up copy, but to my outbox where, to my horror and [Noodles]'s hysterical amusement, I found the original issue of the newsletter sitting calmly and not, as I had thought, disappeared into oblivion, along with the identical copy me and [Noodles] had produced after two hour's hasty work. There had been no crisis. It was there all the time!! What I had thought was a catastrophe was merely a minor problem with my email, which does sometimes, I now remembered, simply refuse to send certain e-mails. I remembered also that from past experience the computer would recover from it's sulking in a few hours and send the email without much dilemma.
  The newsletter is still in my outbox but I have little fear that sometime overnight it will suddenly decide to send itself. So there you have it. But the whole fiasco has taught me one thing, to make a back-up copy of the next issue...and believe me, I have! -[Arthur, King of the Britons.]
  Ta! -Tari Rosemary Baggins. 

Recollections of the Great War
By Bandobras "Bullroarer" Took.

  You youngsters have got some nerve, raising me from the dead like this! Interrupting me right in the middle of a good natter with Old Geronitius, I see young Frodo never taught you no manners, of all the things he did...says he did, as like as not he went gallivanting off with the trolls for a month, hurt is toe and came running home again with a lot of stories about fire and rings and other ridiculous nonsense. There was none of that in my day, no. Not in the days when The Shire was in real peril, goblin peril. A young man stayed to defend his borders he did.
  Those were the days when Ferumbras, my elder brother, caught sick with the myxomatosis, he was in bed all that month, and so, as our father was getting on a little, it was left to me to lead my fellow hobbits against the invading goblins. Golfimbul was their leader, a mighty big goblin with hair coming out of his elbows and a rotten fish in his beard, he led his goblins down from Mount Gram and infiltrated our northern border. Now, all would have been lost for the Shire and you youngsters woulda been born into slavery had it not been for this one piece of luck. Those goblins you see, had gotten the idea for their attack from a website called My Precious, particularly a computer game of some sort, and got it into their heads to eat our pipeweed. As you are no doubt aware however, all our best pipeweed is grown in the south farthing. Now the goblins, they didn't know this, and so they got hold of Ted Underhill's blackmarket weed he used to sell on the sly to youngsters, terrible stuff, grown secret like in a marsh up near Bindbole Wood, and it gave them the most terrible indigestion you ever did see. Those goblins were camped down in the woods three days straight, completely unable to do anything. Whilst they was all suffering, we had time to group together and form a plan of action, so that when the goblins finally recovered, we was all ready for them. Every strong hobbit able to wield a pitch-fork met up on the third day at Greenfields, and it was there that I met my horse Fredigar. Now, I have something of a reputation for being a tall hobbit, I'll not deny it. So tall in fact, that I was able to ride Fredegar. Now, the reason that that is is something less widely known. When I was a lad you see, I was fond of climbing trees, and also of pilfering mushrooms, as all young hobbit lads are, and I had found a way of combining these two interests, taking refuge up trees after I had taken the mushrooms. But one day, I barked up the wrong tree so to speak, and was chased by a big brute of a dog from one of the farms I filched. Well, I managed to escape up a tree all right, but so huge and powerful was the dog that he jumped up and grabbed my ankle in his jaws. I caught hold of the branch as he did so, narrowly escaping the fall, however I was now dangling from a tree with a large dog attached to my leg, and such was the weight of the dog, that he stretched me a good foot longer than what I had been before. So anyway, there we all were at Greenfields, and there I was, on my horse Fredegar, and we was waiting, when suddenly, the goblins arrived. Hooting and cackling they was, thought they were going to win the battle they did. So I thought, I'd show them. Now this is where me brother Ferumbras comes in. As I mentioned before, he was sick with the myxomatosis, which causes a fella to think himself a rabbit. Now, my parents had been able to restrain him thus far, but on that morning, so distracted were they by news of the battle, that they neglected to strap him onto his bed, and so seizing his opportunity, Ferumbras escaped out the window and hopped along to Greenfields, where ne'er a rabbit had been seen before until that day. Ferumbras, fortunately unnoticed on the field, promptly began to dig himself a hole in the field. Meanwhile, I grabbed a club off one of the farming lads beside me and rode up to meet the goblin leader Golfimbul in battle, and so keen was he to come and kill me, that he ran towards me, heedless of all else. But as he was doing this, for the first time I noticed me elder brother Ferumbras, and raised my club to wave at him, at the same moment that Golfimbul, as I have mentioned incredibly excited, tripped over his own iron boots and fell headfirst at my club. So vigorous was my waving to Ferumbras however that I knocked his head clean off, and it sailed through the air and landed straight into the hole my brother had been digging, knocking poor Ferumbras out cold. When he came around however, we found that he had been cured. Meanwhile, all the goblins, seeing their leader defeated, promptly fled in terror, and thus The Shire was restored to its former state of peace and serenity, with only the one small change; that from then on, every anniversary of the Battle of Greenfields, we played the game of golf in honour of our victory against the goblins.
  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to be getting on with back in the world of the dead. Good day to you.

Does This Make Me Look FAT?

By Sauron.


Before being turned into an eyeball at the end of the second age I had a “thing” for fashion. I had six stories of Barad-Dur dedicated to clothes, jewelry, shoes, and all sorts of accessories. It is my personal belief that if I did not care what armor made me look skinner then I would have not been turned into an eyeball. As the armies approached I took my time deciding between the silver armor and the gold armor. Then being changed into an eyeball really transformed me. Literally. I did not have to worry about what shoes matched my purse. What clothes were meant for dancing and what ones were meant for fighting elves. Morgoth always got mad at me for that. Saying one time it was the reason Agaband collapsed. Oops. I would just like to tell everyone that it is ok to like lots of clothes and stuff but remember, if it’s between having a tower collapse and turning into an eyeball or deciding what armor makes you look skinny… make sure you keep your priorities straight. 

Padfoot: Yeah like you do that. You still have six stories dedicated to that stuff.

Sauron: So what. You have your clothes in my rooms to you know.

Padfoot: Yeah that’s because I have nowhere else to put it.

Sauron: Well then build your own place to put it!

Padfoot: I would if we actually had MONEY!!!

Sauron: Yeah well that’s your fault, investing in that self-skinning hobbit machine for hobbit soup bankrupted us!

Padfoot: Shut it sulks

Sauron: You shut it! I have the mind to kick you out of this tower!

Padfoot: You wouldn’t dare!

An angry Morgoth walks in.


Padfoot: She started it.

Sauron: Oh whatever!

Padfoot: That’s it im outta here. I’m packing my bags and MOVING!!! Storms out.

Sauron: Jeeze… I can’t even write an article in peace!

Morgoth: Article?

Sauron: Yeah for the I Nili newsletter thing

Morgoth: did you finish it?

Sauron: Yeah, let me just hit send and let’s go play some air hockey.

Morgoth: You’re on!


Memoirs of an Evil Creature
By Nazgul #3.

  Perhaps I ought to preface this by saying that I am perhaps the lesser known Nazgul, and I don't really know if I am evil. I am, in short, Nazgul #3, and I've got some things to say to dispell some rather rude rumours.
  For starters, I'd like to let it known that we didn't really start out evil - working for eternity for a giant eyeball that has a bad temper does tend to change a Nazgul. I mean, we really are a nice bunch. Nazgul #6 knows quite a few jokes about wargs and orcs and we have a great time telling stories around our little campfire of Mt. Doom. Nazgul #8 can bake some wonderful cookies and makes nice punch - but nobody ever gets to see this. Honestly, if they saw us in our off time, there would be a very different opinion of Nazguls.
  Take for example the Witch King's stabbing of Frodo - he didn't mean to do it! He just got very upset that the little fellow wouldn't share the pretty shiny ring and his temper got away from him. He has a lack of a temper, really, but we have been working on it - truly. We were going to apologize, until that Ranger hopped out of nowhere and set a few of us on fire...As uncomfortable as it was, I must congratulate him on a good tactic...Very effective.  As for the whole "chasing the elf that was rescuing the little stabbed fellow" thing - I have to say that we're sorry about it. We got really caught up in the "be evil" act and we made a mistake! I do have to thank the elf for the whole river flooding trick - my robes were still smouldering from being set on fire, so the whole being washed downstream experience helped quite a bit. Plus, that was the first washing my robes had had in ages.
  Speaking of robes, before anyone asks why we wear them, the whole reason is - they are comfortable. Nice and warm to wrap around yourself when being sent out in the winter time and they are comfortable in summer or when wandering about Mt. Doom when it gets too hot. Albeit, they aren't the best thing to wear while riding, but, well, we don't question that too much. But while we are on the subject of things to wear, I do have to lodge a minor complaint. The metal boots just are NOT conducive to good evil thoughts - particularly when your toes are being pinched! We may be the cursed undead, but we still do prefer to have proper footwear while working. The horses don't care much for them either - and we get thrown a lot when we forget about the metal boots.
  All this has lead up to our voices. Honestly, do you think we started out with high, shrieking voices? No, no, no. We've got quite the variety of problems that cause this unfortunate voice problem. Not, of course, that you ever get to find this out. The Witch King has a hoarse voice from all the yelling orders at the orcs - those creatures just don't listen! Nazgul#2 drank too hot of tea, but he'll be fine. Nazgul#4 has an unfortunate love of the hobbit leaf and smokes it too much. He'll always be a bit hoarse. Nazgul#5 got thrown from his horse last week and he got a bit messed up. Nazgul#6 has boots that pinch something horrible, so he yelps a lot.Nazgul#7 was the only one of us who was fine, but when we went for our unannounced swim in the river, he unfortunately swallowed some fish. He'll be in recovery for while. Nazgul#8 had a horrible cold, but is now better, andNazgul#9 loves to sing, but he practiced too much, too long and too hard for joining the Wood Elves in their singing. They still told him no...I think he's still bitter over the rejection.
  As for myself, I had the same cold as Nazgul#8, but I was getting better until I was set on fire - smoke inhalation from one's own robes is not helpful to recovery. All of the above lead to our sounding nasty and cold and evil - not at all what we're really like! Well, all right, so us being this side of the undead and all does tend to lead to us being a little crackly sounding. We can't help that.
  As for our evil beasts (no, not the horses - I mean the flying creatures), well, they aren't evil either, actually. They just have a surly disposition......I am fairly certain it comes from what they eat, but it isn't like I can argue with them. Namely because they can eat me. I don't know about you, but I'll just let them be cranky instead of being eaten. And will someone please tell that wizard to stop frying our eyes with that sparkly crystal? I do understand he was this side of upset with us attacking the retreating forces, but he really needs to stop doing that! I can't stop my flying beast on command and I am not thrilled at the prospect of being plastered against the stone walls of Minas Tirith. Oh, and as for that oh-so-entertaining eagle attack that he surprised us with - that was really not fun. Those talons hurt - even through the metal armor! That and all the spinning around trying to evade them made us all a little queasy. All right, more than a little queasy. We weren't terribly happy about it all.
  In closing, I would greatly appreciate it if everyone stopped referring to us as evil and ceased the whole "shun the evil creature" type mindcast. We aren't that evil, we aren't even that bad to just talk to - of course, you'll have to speak up, the hoods we wear muffle sounds. But, if you let us out of Mordor without continually trying to set us on fire or fill us full of arrows, we would like to prove how nice we really are. We might even consider adding a floral effect to the black robes.

Why I Stayed Behind
By Celeborn.

  Now listen here, I know that certain young hobbits in my acquaintance, who shall remain nameless, have been spreading certain rumours about the reason my wife, Galadriel, got on the ship to Valinor without me. I would like to set the record straight as to why I stayed behind.
  Why I stayed behind. First of all, it was absolutely my decision to stay behind. None of this Galadriel leaving me business all right, she practically begged me to come with her, but I didn't, and you know why? No? Well just think about who else was going on the ship for a minute. We've got Elrond, Gandalf, and two hobbits, one of whom was incredibly old and decrepit and told a lot of nonsense stories a hundred times because he kept forgetting that he'd already told you and even the first time they weren't at all funny. And Elrond, I mean, come on. Those eyebrows?! They look like two caterpillars tried to eat his face off and then got accidentally stuck there by all that face make-up he wears, because let me tell you, Elrond half-elven's smooth ageless complexion? Not happening, he may have the immortality but he didn't get the looks to go with it. I don't know why everyone goes on about how great he is. That guy ain't got nothing on me.
  And as for Frodo, that little midget has got nothing on me, really, I can't imagine how anyone would get the idea that Galadriel was leaving me for him, really, he did nothing but cry the whole time he was staying with us the only reason Galadriel was hanging out with him at all was because she felt sorry for him. Galadriel absolutely did not leave me for Frodo. And if she did, well, you know, all I can say is that I'd feel sorry for her, having to put up with that little [Edited out] day in day out, really I do, I feel sorry for her. And I told her she'd come crawling back to me in no time...I mean that's what I would have told her if she had left, which she hadn't, she never would because Galadriel loves ME.
  And anyway Valinor is like so over-rated, come on, jewel covered beaches? How tacky. The valar may have all the power in Middle Earth but they've got no self-respect, no dignity, showing off all the time, flouncing around. I didn't want to be stuck with them for all eternity, so anyone who says anything about special edicts being issued banning me from going to Valinor because I winge too much is just being pointlessly malicious and quite frankly rude. I don't know where people get off spreading rumours like that, that's just spineless that is, that's just petty and low, probably just jealous because I'm immortal and married to a hot elven goddess who would never leave me in a million years.
  She's not that great anyway. I don't need her. Love is so over-rated. And even if Galadriel ever did dream of leaving me, which she never would, you know what? She wouldn't be able to. Know why? Because I'd leave her first, that's why. So no more of this Galadriel leaving me nonsense, it's absolutely ridiculous and it never happened. *Prances off to sulk.* 

Fate of Undómiel: For Death Is Only Another Journey

Written by Arwen Undómiel


  To have the wisdom of a thousand ages, to know the depth of so much loss. A flower in bloom for all eternity, seeing all things – great, terrible and beautiful. I am that flower, to be caught in the hourglass of time that never seems to end; a beauty to look upon yet no one is able to see the inner grief and emotion. My final choice shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  Born into a noble family, an elf lord and lady, I was brought up as any elven maid should be. Taught from early years the language of my ancestors, the history of Middle Earth and the fate of our kind. The Valar was never to be argued with, for they knew all. Ada always told me, every night when I went to bed, that naneth loved me the most and that she was always with me. Ada also said one day, when I would choose to, I would too take that path and see her again.  My mother, Celebriän, daughter of Lady Galadriel never saw me again after her terrible night. She soon passed away, the torture of the orcs left a scar on her that would not heal; she never saw Middle Earth’s beauty and wonder again. Ada loved her, his eyes still shone with her light, and now he is with her again. It was supposed to be – for ada and I to meet with naneth again. But that, I'm afraid, is only a wish, a wisp of hope lost in a strong current. The grief I saw in ada’s eyes on our fateful parting tore at my heart, but my decision could not be swayed. On the hills of Edoras, none witnessed our final parting.

  “Tinúviel, Tinúviel!” – words that are still clear in my mind. On our first meeting, as I was walking through among the white stems of birches, Estel had called me by my ancestor’s name. Little did I know then, but I would also follow that doomed path of Lúthien Tinúviel. Her fate and her life repeats itself in mine, for we both shared that same choice and that same sacrifice. We, elven maidens of twilight, with hair as dark as midnight and skin as white as snow, as beautiful as we appear, both knew the hourglass would never end. My grandmother, Galadriel had once told me about Lúthien, how it was though her likeness had come back to earth again through me. She was the only one who mentioned Lúthien’s fateful story – one that she probably knew all along that I would take eventually.

  And that I did, the fate of Tinúviel and my destiny. Upon Cerin Amroth, where Estel and I met again, I gave him my love…and my life. A mortal life is what I desire - death would only be another journey. We plighted our troth to each other upon a land of blooming elanor and niphredil. There I will choose to lie for eternity, until the world is changed, and all the days of my life are utterly forgotten by men that come after; and elanor and niphredil bloom no more east of the Sea…


For mine is the choice of Lúthien; both the sweet and the bitter.

  The End.
  What's that? You want MORE? Jeesh, what kind of slave-race do you think we are? All right, but I'm NOT giving you the columns! You can have... Hmm, let me see... Oh, all right. The results of the Ringleaders Contest!
  Winner, First Place: Ivy, 61 points. Wow, how'd you do that?
  Winner, Second Place: Is a tie between Prongsie and Cerridwen with 43 points each!
  Winners, Third Place: Padfoot, Eo'star, and Frodo's Friend. Can't wait to see what kind of issues you think up.
  Honourable Mentions: Fan, Nienna, Angel, Sméagol and Matthias. Almost made it! I'm sure you can next time.
  Reply to receive your rewards and that, and all of you are on equal footing now, so start sending for next time.
  Go away, [Jimminy Cricket]. We have banished you from this issue.
  Well, that was it, everyone. I hope you enjoyed it. See you around! -Tari.




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