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A/N – Written for Marigold’s Challenge #29, the elements I chose to include were a parent, a strange occurrence, a place of healing, and a writer.
Thanks to Marigold for beta-reading this story.
A huge and special thanks to all of the authors listed below in the footnotes, whose creativity and dreams helped to enrich and embellish the amazing world of Middle-earth which J.R.R. Tolkien gave to us as you helped others to explore it in greater detail. This story is dedicated to all of you.
This had to be one of the strangest occurrences Frodo had ever seen. Here it was his and Bilbo’s first birthday in the Undying Lands, and it was already beginning to snow. It was incomprehensible – snow, in the month of Halimath! Although Frodo liked seeing snow occasionally, he still was relieved by the information Lord Elrond brought when he visited Bilbo and him in the smial the Elves had built into the side of the mountain for them. After giving Frodo and Bilbo their birthday presents (which he made certain to deliver before noon), Lord Elrond told them that according to the Elves who had been there longer, snow was rare in Tol Eressea. He even apologised for the inclement weather. “When one comes to a place like Tol Eressea to heal, the weather should not chill the body. For the mind and soul dwell within.” “The snow is no bother, Lord Elrond. It is pleasant for a change, though I would not want it all the time. But on occasion, it can be invigorating. Still, I do not think that Bilbo will venture out in it,” Frodo replied. Bilbo had fallen asleep while looking at the new book in Sindarin that Lord Elrond had given him for his birthday. Frodo was quite anxious to get a closer look at his own birthday gift from Lord Elrond, after all, hobbits did love to receive presents. And Frodo could hardly wait to fill the empty journals Lord Elrond had given him with his observations and impressions of the Undying Lands. But that would have to wait until later in the day. When Frodo and Bilbo (who had woken up in time for luncheon) had cleared the table of the birthday cake they shared with Lord Elrond, the Elf left, saying that he had best get back home since the skies told of heavier snows to come. It was a good thing Lord Elrond left when he did. Soon, there was so much snow on the ground that Frodo bundled up, including a pair of warm boots, and went outside and made a snowhobbit. It was good to be out in the cold, crisp air, especially since the skies were still dark with snow threatening to make getting out and enjoying the fresh air later on more difficult. Frodo inhaled the air deeply, allowing the cold salty sea air to fill him with energy. Darkness came early on such a day. And with it came a cold wind so great that Frodo and Bilbo had decided to have dinner early. They had barely finished eating the mushroom soup, seven herb bread, and Took pie made using Bilbo’s own mother’s recipe of beef, carrots, mashed potatoes, and herbs when the Moon climbed high up in the sky and sent the Sun and hobbits to bed. When Frodo awoke the next morning, it was to a howling wind that crashed against the door to the smial. Frodo had never seen such a snowstorm so early in the year! It was fortunate that before he had come in from making the snowhobbit yesterday, Frodo had thought to bring in more wood. It looked like it was going to be a long, cold day stuck inside watching the snowstorm. While this did not seem to bother Bilbo, who fell asleep again soon after second breakfast, it left Frodo with little to do. Once he finished cleaning up the dishes from their meal, he settled into his cosy chair before the fireplace and warmed his hands. Incredibly, it was getting colder, even inside. Frodo got a blanket and wrapped it around his cousin’s shoulders. He enjoyed being around Bilbo and having him back again after such a long absence. After all, Bilbo had been like a parent to him, raising him all those years. However, ever since Bilbo had given Frodo the One Ring, Bilbo had increasingly been feeling his years and now spent most of his time either eating or sleeping. And now he had been able to enjoy Bilbo’s company and new poems for a year. While Bilbo slept, Frodo stood and looked out the window at the sea of whiteness. He could barely make out the snowhobbit he had made the day before even though it was just a few yards outside the window. The snow was hypnotising as the icy winds blew past the window. As he peered into its depths, Frodo’s mind recalled another snowstorm at Brandy Hall many years ago when Merry had been so worried that Frodo, Bilbo, and Pippin’s family would not be able to make it through the snowstorm in time for Yule. Aunt Esme later had told Frodo that the poor lad had been angry at the snow. However, Merry had instantly cheered up once he saw Bilbo hop out of the sledge followed by Frodo, Paladin, Eglantine holding a baby Pippin, and Pippin’s sisters. Frodo could still remember Merry’s bright grey eyes as he lifted his little cousin up and twirled him around in the air. A warm feeling spread throughout Frodo as he recalled the story. It was such a good memory; he would not want to be like Bilbo, who had grown much more forgetful since he had left the Shire. An idea came to Frodo – he got one of the new journals Lord Elrond had given him for his birthday and sat at the desk by the window. Dipping his quill into the ink, he began to write the story of Merry’s happy Yule. When he had finished, he wrote across the top of the first page, “Through the Storm.”(1) A large grin broke across Frodo’s face as he stared at his story. It was such a good feeling and had made him feel closer to Merry and all of the folks back in the Shire. And now that he had written it on paper, he would have it to read and remember when he got old and forgetful like Bilbo. Although he had enjoyed writing the story, it had also reminded him of something else that had occurred when Merry was little and the two of them were waiting on a crisp, cold day at Brandy Hall for Bilbo to come and visit. Picking up his quill once again, Frodo scrolled atop the clean sheet in the journal, “Waiting for Bilbo” (2), and began to write that story as well. Frodo had been about twenty years old at the time and Merry almost seven. Although there had been no snow that day, Frodo had taught Merry-lad how to make “footprints” in the frost with his hand and told him guessing-riddles, making certain only to tell the ones that Merry knew the answer to, of course. Frodo laughed aloud, thinking of how Merry was so heavily wrapped up against the cold that he looked like a little round bundle of clothes. And when Bilbo finally arrived on his pony-trap, he had given Frodo and Merry a ride up to Brandy Hall. It was a delightful little memory, and made a wonderful little story that Frodo was glad to preserve on paper. Merry had been so adorable when he was a faunt and young lad. Frodo had adored him from the moment he had first met him. Frodo dipped his quill in the inkpot once again and wrote “A Merry Beginning.”(3) Although it had been cold outside, Aunt Esme’s room had been warm thanks to a roaring fire in the fireplace as Frodo came over to look at his brand new cousin. Frodo had fallen in love with Merry the moment he looked at the little bundle in Uncle Saradoc’s arms. He was so perfect in every way. Frodo could still remember how startled he had been when Aunt Esme and Uncle Saradoc had let him hold baby Merry. Merry … Frodo had even given him that nickname that first time he had held him. He had been so little! But not nearly as tiny as Pippin had been when he was born. The next page of Frodo’s journal was soon headed, “Victories Won.” Poor little Pippin had been born early and his survival had been in serious doubt. Frodo would never forget the look of pride mixed with sadness on Cousin Paladin’s face as he showed off his new son to Frodo and Bilbo. Pippin had been very thin, unlike other hobbit babies, who are so nice and plump. Gandalf had been there and stated that although Pippin would have many illnesses as a lad, he would survive and had an important purpose to fulfil. Frodo had been so relieved to hear that Pippin would survive that he had charged Merry with taking extra special care of Pippin. Frodo looked out the frosty window at the sheet of white still coming down outside. Unfortunately, Gandalf had been correct that Pippin would have many illnesses as a young lad, especially during winter. Frodo felt another story coming on. But first, he began to prepare the meal for elevenses. He thought for a moment and decided to heat up some of the food left over from last night’s dinner. Soon, the mushroom soup was piping hot. It smelled so delicious that Bilbo woke up and came over to the table. “Have you had a good nap, Uncle?” Frodo asked as he cut two slices of seven herb bread and handed one to Bilbo. “I did, indeed, my lad! My, but this smells delicious!” There was little conversation for a while, as both hobbits were too busy eating. But by the time they were filling out the corners with some sliced cheese and warmed perry, the two cousins were happily chattering away about the snowstorm and how lucky they were to have such a warm smial. They continued their conversation while Frodo cleared and washed the dishes. Bilbo wrapped himself in the blanket Frodo had brought him earlier and settled back into his chair by the fire. By the time Frodo had finished putting the dishes away; Bilbo had already drifted off to sleep again. Frodo smiled at his dear cousin. How nice it was to be able to see Bilbo well-fed, warm, and content. Well, Bilbo would be asleep for a while, and Frodo wanted to return to writing down stories in his journal. It was strange, but it seemed that every time Frodo wrote down the story of one memory, another long forgotten memory would pop into Frodo’s mind. Each time it did so, Frodo was anxious to write it down. Even the stories that dealt with unpleasant subjects, such as poor Pippin’s horrible bouts of illness when he was young. Frodo sat down again at the oak desk before the window and glanced at the title he had already written for the next memory he was going to memorialise on paper - “Merry Meetings.”(5) This memory was not one of his, it was one of Merry’s, but one that Merry had told him about and that he had heard from Cousin Paladin as well. One winter when Pippin was but a teen, the Winter Sickness had called on all of Pippin’s family except for Cousin Paladin. Naturally, the one stricken the worst had been Pippin. Merry was immediately summoned to care for Pippin, as he had done countless times during Pippin’s young life. Although Frodo had not been there to see it that time, Merry had told him of how he used his and Pippin’s special expression to help bring Pippin back out of his fevered dreams. Frodo smiled as he looked down at the paper and read the expression. “Merry meetings.” Every time Pippin had opened his eyes and seen Merry there caring for him had been a merry meeting. On this occasion, not only did Merry and Pippin have a merry meeting when Pippin opened his eyes, but Merry had promised to always be there for Pippin. A promise Frodo was certain Merry would keep. So many memories were flooding into Frodo’s head now, and each demanding to be written! There was the adventure that he, Merry, and Pippin had shared that one time at Bag End when Merry had been so sick with the Winter Sickness. Frodo chuckled at the memories as he began to write on the page he had already titled, “I Always Know You.”(6) Although Merry had been “bad sick” on that occasion, this was a warm memory for Frodo since so many good stories had been told on that occasion. And now he was going to write them down. After writing several more memories down as stories, Frodo made afternoon tea for the two of them: a nice light meal of peppermint tea, leftover birthday cake, and piping hot cinnamon-apples. The snow had started to lighten a bit soon after Frodo and Bilbo had eaten their meal, but it was still snowing too hard for Frodo to venture outdoors. He was actually glad of that, since he was enjoying writing the stories so much. “Now then, where did I leave off?” Frodo asked himself under his breath. “Ah, yes… Pippin and how sick he used to get as a child. He’s changed a lot since then.” Frodo mused to himself about how Pippin not only thankfully did not get sick much anymore, but how he had grown and matured during their long journey with Merry and Sam. Especially at the beginning of the journey, Pippin had to grow up quickly. Frodo covered his mouth with his hand to try and contain his laughter as he recalled how rough it had been for Pippin once Aragorn, or Strider as they had called him back then, had led them out of Bree toward Rivendell. Poor Pippin had not been used to such physical exertion as Strider kept them moving toward Rivendell with little rest and short rations. This story, “No Pain, No Gain”(7) was soon down in Frodo’s journal. It certainly had been a rough journey for all of them, but for Pippin especially, being a mere tween, it must have been quite confusing at times. In fact, the more Frodo thought of it, the more he recalled. Merry had even told him a couple of stories that illustrated how much Pippin had changed. Pippin had gone from being a typical hobbit lad before their journey who had once enjoyed pretend sword play with Merry, using pots and pans and kitchen utensils (and Frodo wrote that story out, which he called, “Promises, Promises”)(8) to a soldier uncertain as to whom he was pledged in service after Lord Denethor’s death when Aragorn became acknowledged as the High King (that story Frodo called, “Promises”) (9). Why, Merry had even told him of how he had laughed at their younger cousin once in Minas Tirith because their experiences on the journey were so different from what they were used to in the Shire that Pippin, the son of the Thain, did not even realise that he really was the Ernil I Pheriannath, or prince of hobbits, as the people of Gondor had called him. Hmm… that was not a bad title for that story. Frodo wrote at the top of that paper, “The Ernil I Pheriannath.” (10) This was a delightful way to spend a snowy day, Frodo thought. He should have written these stories a long time ago. What surprised him was how his idea to write the one story of Merry’s being so worried that one snowy Yule had turned into so many stories. It was as if they just multiplied, like bunnies from a rabbit. He chuckled to himself about that thought, it was so silly. Yes, the Quest had changed them all, thought Frodo. Why, even he had been much different before the journey. As he recalled a particularly interesting day when he was little more than a faunt, Frodo reached for his quill once again. He thought for a moment and then wrote “In Which Frodo Makes a Mess” (11) on the next clean page of the journal and let the tale spill onto the page. He had been sick and had to stay inside while his mother went shopping for a little while. What had started out to be a bit of fun soon turned dangerous when Frodo had accidentally set the curtains on fire in the smial where he and his parents had lived in Buckland. By the time his mother had come home, the smial had been a disaster. Mischief did seem to have a way of following him. Even when he had been a few years older and living with Aunt Esme and Uncle Saradoc after the death of his parents, he had been known as the trouble maker of Brandy Hall. Soon, Frodo had written another memory down of stealing mushrooms from Farmer Maggot with two of his Brandybuck cousins. This story he decided to call “Pride Goes Before a Fall … Or a Farmer’s Dogs.”(12) Frodo was certain that Farmer Maggot had been glad to see Frodo go and live with Uncle Bilbo in Hobbiton. It had been a move that both Bilbo and Frodo had looked eagerly upon. Frodo knew it had not been easy for Aunt Esme or Uncle Saradoc to grant their permission for him to leave them and move in with Bilbo all the way in Hobbiton. It had grieved him many a time, until Merry had told him of the events that gave rise to Aunt Esme and Uncle Saradoc feeling at peace with their decision. Aunt Esme had told this story to a young Merry on many occasions when she would check on her little lad at night and found his face stained with still flowing tears for Frodo. Merry had said that every time his mother had told the story to him, he would look at the contentment on her face with Frodo’s move to Bag End, and he would stop crying and hug his mother tightly, glad himself that Frodo had gone to live at Bag End. It had become one of Frodo’s most treasured stories, especially when he saw Merry’s glistening eyes as he told it to him. Frodo felt compelled to write it down in his journal. Frodo’s eyes were misty as he blotted the paper dry. This story, “Contentments,”(13) was one that Frodo would read on many occasions. It was getting late and Bilbo had already gone to bed by the time Frodo put the journal down and went to his own rest for the night. There was something very fulfilling in seeing the stories in his mind written on paper. The snow was still falling the next morning when Frodo woke up. It looked to be another day much like the day before, much to Frodo’s satisfaction. He had not slept well the night before, finding it very difficult to empty his mind of all of the memories that were now in his head demanding to be written. “Thank you, my lad!” Bilbo said as Frodo handed him a cup of tea and some seedcake for first breakfast. Bilbo inhaled the tea deeply and raised the cup shakily to his mouth. “Mmm… now that hits the spot!” “What are you working on, Uncle?” Frodo settled into his own chair before the fire and took a bite of the seedcake. “I am trying to write a song for the Elves to thank them for allowing us the honour and privilege of coming here to live.” “May I?” Bilbo nodded and handed a few sheets of paper across to Frodo. He looked expectantly at his younger cousin. As Frodo read what Bilbo had written in Sindarin so far, a serious but satisfied expression came onto his face. He nodded his head. “It’s wonderful, Bilbo. That is how I feel as well.” He handed the song back to Bilbo. “I am still polishing it up a bit so it will be worthy of the gift the Elves have given us,” Bilbo replied. “The Elves have been so generous to us; this place almost feels as much like home as Bag End.” Frodo nodded again and went back over to his seat at the desk by the chilly window. Bag End. Frodo had fancied dear Bag End from the moment he had first seen it. He had been just a tiny lad at the time, so anxious to see where Uncle Bilbo lived and full of questions about the place. Frodo smiled … dear Bag End… it was not long before he had written the story of his first meeting with his beloved home and titled it, “Frodo Drabbles.”(14) Before he had even finished putting his quill down after writing the title, he recalled how Merry had been so anxious to be able to visit Frodo after his move to Bag End that he had been determined to walk up the Hill from Hobbiton all by himself when he was only a little lad. Soon, “Climbing”(15) was on paper. There were so many good memories of life at Bag End… living with Bilbo, the fun he had with Merry or Pippin when they would come and visit, or spending time with Sam. Frodo was so glad that Sam’s gaffer had been the gardener at Bag End. Sam often accompanied him and then spent time with Frodo doing any number of things. Sam… Frodo had to write these memories down as well… perhaps, “For as Much Time”(16) would be a nice title. It had been especially nice when Sam visited at a time when Merry and Pippin were on one of their extended visits to Bag End. Well, Frodo remembered with a shake of his head and a chuckle, except for that time Pippin played a horrid prank on Sam, Merry, and him when the four of them had gone swimming on a blistering hot day. That had been wretched at the time, though now the memory was a source of great merriment. “Pennies for a Sunny Day”(17) Frodo decided to call it. Fortunately, not all of Pippin’s days at Bag End had been filled with pranks and getting into mischief. Frodo could still clearly remember teaching Pippin lessons on occasion when he came for a visit, including teaching a very young Pippin about the Bullroarer and descendants. The little rascal had been a quick learner. Another leaf of Frodo’s journal soon was filled with “Of Bullroarers (and Adventures at Bag End)” (18). Ah, little Pippin-lad had been adorable back then, especially when he would fall asleep in Frodo’s lap in the middle of a story and Frodo would carry him to his bed. And the imagination that Pippin had! Frodo laughed as he recalled a time when after looking at clouds with Pippin one afternoon, the only shape Merry could see in the clouds when he looked at them with Frodo was sheep. He wondered if that was still the case. Now that was one story he had to preserve for the future! In no time at all, Frodo had written “On a Cloudy Day You Can See.” (19) Well, at least Merry did not hold it against Pippin. No matter how angry Merry got with him, he loved their younger cousin like a brother. In fact, all three of them felt that way about each other. Where was it? In Bolewood. Yes, when Bilbo, Merry, Pippin, and Frodo had stayed at an inn at Bolewood after Pippin was injured, the local healer had thought the three cousins were brothers, and none of them had corrected her. To the contrary, they were glad of the misunderstanding. What was the name of that inn? Ollie’s Faunt! Frodo could not help laughing out loud as he began to write that story, “Once Upon a Memory.”(20) Fortunately, although Bilbo stirred, he did not awaken. Suddenly, Frodo recalled another couple of stories that had happened at inns. They had had many adventures at inns. These stories really were like bunnies the way they multiplied so quickly, he thought. Soon, Frodo had written “A Pint of Troubles”(21), about when he and Merry had taken Pippin, who must have been a faunt or a very small lad at the time, to an inn and learnt that one little word could lead to a world of trouble. After he had written that story down, he rapidly wrote another, “Night at the Dragon”(22), about the time when Merry had set out to prove to Frodo and Pippin that Buckland made the finest ale in the Shire. Of course, the result of that outing had been hangovers for all three cousins. But Merry had proven his point and defended Buckland’s honour. It was becoming noticeably colder in the smial. Frodo glanced out the window and found that the light of day was disappearing behind the night sky. Where had the day gone? It had practically flown by while he had been absorbed in writing down stories of events of long ago. Frodo quickly piled more wood on the fire in the hearth and held his hands out before the fire. He could already feel a difference in the room. Frodo looked in Bilbo’s chair and saw that the old hobbit had fallen asleep again, which must have been why he had not commented about the cold. It was sad to see how old and frail Bilbo had become. Dear Bilbo, who meant more to Frodo than anyone else. How good it was to once again be living in the same smial as him, sharing meals and memories or translating Elvish together. It still made him sad to think of the happiness that had escaped Bilbo, the happiness and tragedy that Frodo had first learnt of after The Birthday when he was tidying up after Bilbo had left the Shire. How glad Frodo was that he had read Bilbo’s diary, even though it also brought sadness. Frodo looked at the frail, sleeping form of his beloved uncle and knew he needed to write down this story as well. Bilbo’s and Amethyst’s story should not be forgotten. He went back to the desk and wrote the story as well as he could remember it. “The Diary”(23) was now also written in Frodo’s journal, memorialising the time when Frodo had learnt why Bilbo had never married. Dear, dear Bilbo, Frodo mused. He had always been there for Frodo, always quick with a story for Frodo or for Merry or for Pippin. Those stories were a treasured part of their childhoods and Frodo had tried to continue on Bilbo’s tradition of telling stories, often making up stories with Bilbo in it, especially for Pippin. Frodo looked down at the last bit of seedcake on his plate and smiled as he recalled one of the stories with Bilbo in it that he often had told to Pippin. In fact, he had even cuddled Pippin in his arms in Minas Tirith and told him the story in the White City, though his cousin was a respected Knight of Gondor at the time. For Pippin, he wrote down “Of Cakes and Crumbs and Distant Dreams.”(24) It was near bedtime when Frodo had finally finished writing the tale down. He was tired and a bit sore from writing so long, but well satisfied with the memories he now had memorialised in the journal so he and Bilbo would always be able to enjoy them. He put his quill down and stretched. At that moment, Bilbo awoke. “Are you ready now to share whatever it is you have been working so hard on these past few days?” he asked. Frodo suddenly felt nervous. He well recalled the last time he had written a story and the surprising reaction of the cousins he had written it for. While Sam had been enthusiastic about Frodo’s story, Merry and Pippin had not been originally, criticising it and claiming it was not a story. It was only after some dramatic measures that they came to like Frodo’s story. “In a moment, Uncle,” Frodo said. He quickly dashed off this last memory, calling it appropriately enough “Frodo Writes a Story”(25) and blotted it dry. Frodo closed the journal carefully and slowly brought it over to Bilbo with some trepidation. He handed the journal to Bilbo, who began to read it. A large grin broke across Bilbo’s face as he nodded with approval. He continued to leaf through the stories, pointing every now and then and laughing, or growing serious when the subject did. “I remember that!” Bilbo exclaimed with glee. “You three were a handful, the lot of you!” he chuckled. Soon, Frodo and Bilbo were sharing many laughs over the memories Frodo had carefully written down. “I thought to write a few of my memories down so I would be able to recall them at any time, so I would not forget them,” Frodo explained. “But it seemed that the more memories I committed to paper, the more memories sprung up in my head, demanding that I write them.” “You have reminded me of a few memories of my own, Frodo!” Bilbo smiled brightly at his younger cousin. "You had best get out your quill and ink and another journal, my lad. Let's see how many more stories of the past come to mind," he said with a twinkle in his eye. The End. Here are the stories mentioned above, complete with the names of their authors and the links to the stories. I highly encourage all to read not only these stories, but any of the stories by the authors listed. Note that the stories I have mentioned are not necessarily what I consider to be the best stories by these authors, but the stories which best fit in with this tale.
(1) Through the Storm, by Slightly Tookish, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie (2) Waiting for Bilbo, by Dreamflower, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie (3) A Merry Beginning, by Lily_the_Hobbit, (4) Victories Won, by Garnet Took, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie (5) Merry Meetings, by Pipspebble, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie (6) I Always Know You , by Baylor, (7) No Pain, No Gain , by Lbilover, (8) Promises, Promises, by Llinos, http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1508650/1/ (9) Promises, by Songspinner, (10) The Ernil i Pheriannath, by Marigold, (11) In Which Frodo Makes a Mess, by Mysterious Ways, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie (12) Pride Goes Before a Fall … Or a Farmer’s Dogs, by Elanor Silmariën, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie (13) Contentments, by Elemmírë, (14) Frodo Drabbles, by Shirebound, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie (15) Climbing, by Anso the Hobbit, (16) For As Much Time, Danachan, (17) Pennies for a Sunny Day, by Cathleen, (18) Of Bullroarers (and Adventures at Bag End) , by Vinca B, (19) On a Cloudy Day You Can See, by Grey Wonderer, (20) Once Upon a Memory, by Pippinfan, (21) A Pint of Troubles, by Mariposa, (22) Night at the Dragon, by Starfire_Moonlight, (23) The Diary, by Pearl Took, (24) Of Cakes and Crumbs and Distant Dreams, by Lindelea, (25) Frodo Writes a Story, by GamgeeFest, http://www.storiesofarda.com/chaptervie I hope none of the authors whose stories I have mentioned here have any objection to my including their stories in this tale. It is meant solely as an acknowledgment of their talents. If any of these authors do not wish me to include a reference to their stories here, please let me know and I will immediately remove it from this story.
The authors whose stories I have included here are but a sample of the many fine authors who have written stories about hobbits. There are so many wonderful authors out there whose stories I wish I could have included in this story but couldn't. If I had done so, Frodo would have been writing stories until the end of time, which is a pretty long time in the Undying Lands. However, I encourage everyone to explore and read the stories by the authors I have included as well as those I have not. |
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