[Anguirel]

Well, as I'm officially skint as of this afternoon, the last of my trust fund in the hands of the Coca-Cola company, I thought I'd celebrate with a meta-party.

We'll eat in Florence, on the site of Minas Tirith, at a restaurant near the Ponte Vecchio.

On my left will be Aredhel, Ar-Feiniel of the Noldor, and on my right Feanor of the Peredhil, that much-demanded supper guest. On her other side will be the phantom, because he'd assuredly come anyway.

Opposite me will be Curufin, whose sly and subtle wit will enliven the party. On either side of him will be Queen Beruthiel and Mithalwen, who will assuredly get on.

On Beruthiel's other side will be Bethberry, forming an invincible triad of ailurophiles; on Aredhel's other side Daeron, who should have plenty to argue about amusingly with Curufin, at the foot of the table Maeglin, (I'll arrange for Idril Celebrindal to be the waitress...an extra...) and at the head, if he'll come, the great genius Maglor.

I'll have a Pizza Beatrice myself; some of table rosso will be available to drink...and we'll have a rousing dance on the Ponte to harp accompaniment after supper...