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Tolkien had been turning in his grave so often over the past few years that he decided there was no point in hanging around in a coffin. With a smile in his heart and the pelt of a warg wrapped around his neck, he wanders off in search of the people who keep him from resting in peace.
In other news, hordes of mary-sue fanfic writers seem to have dissappeared off the face of the earth. Peter Jackson fears he may be next. Full coverage at 11.
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"Wide ne bith wel," cwaeth se the geheirde on helle hriman.
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