Ale comes in buckets in the shire, down from the skies as blessings from the Lord of the Tipsy Dances. It's an annual event taking place every day of the year at midnight.
Who the heck were the Sackville-Baggins?
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Know ye People, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, And the rise of the sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars.
Hither came Carlton, the King, black haired, bronze hued, mightily thewed, sullen eyed. Sword in hand, a warrior, a destroyer, a conqueror. With gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jewelled thrones of the Earth, under his sandalled feet.
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