*bows to Maeggaladiel*
Yes, glasses do indeed present themselves as willing tools of Darkness more often than one would like to believe, I am afraid. It is nice that I don't need them anymore; that at least is the among the few comforts of being dead. In response to your inquiry into Teddy's fate: well, I can hear him plodding about on top of the barrow from time to time, knocking dirt clods all over my nice bed of treasure, but I don't think it's out of any lingering loyalty to me. You know, I think that we all do a very good job of fertilizing the grass on these hills, if you take my meaning.
