An elf cloaked in grey sidles onto the scene with difficulty due to the large sack she is dragging, looks around and grabs the nearest empty chair of the support group. Figits a little then quietly whispers "Oh no, I think I have it bad, any one know the number of a good shopaholic therapist?" then shrinks back into her chair and starts fiddling with her evenstar necklace. Looking around to check no one has interfiered with her sack of LOTR goodies.
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"Hail Eärendil, brightest of angels, over Middle Earth sent to men."
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