The alarm on her timepiece beeped in an insistent manner. ‘0900, Ma’am,’ said Fingon, pointing at Pio’s pocket. She turned to bellow down to the Balrogs. ‘Open the Gates!’
One leap brought her breathless to the entry way.
‘Welcome! Welcome! To the Barrow-Downs’ Birthday Party!’ she babbled, wig askew, as the partygoers streamed in . . .
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