Rose sits on the riverbank, trying to deal with her overwhelming sense of grief, guilt, and failure. She suffered from the wounds of 21 pages worth of posting, and wondered just how she could ever fit into into the light-hearted world of Hobbit cyber parties again.
At that moment, a tall, proud, Elven Ship slid silently up to the dock on the riverbank. On it's sails, in Elvish script, was written: "Undying Lands. Express Route. (Please have exact change ready.)"
A tall, bearded Elf stepped majestically down the ramp and stood looking down at the forlorn, heartsick halfling.
"Well, are you coming or not?" he asked. "I have a schedule to keep, you know."
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