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alatar, leaning heavily upon his staff as if come from a long journey, walked up to the New Party tree. Seeing the remnants of what appeared to a very great celebration - much trampled grass, a faint whiff of fireworks, a small stub of a brightly coloured candle, a small piece of thread that perhaps belonged to a ribbon - he gave out a long sigh, and, having come to some decision, used the end of his staff to poke around in the ground.
He rooted out a flat rock, and by using a smaller piece of stone, scratched back and forth across his new found 'parchment.'
"Nerwen - Happy Belated 111 - a"
alatar set the stone under the New Party tree, gave it a short bow, and began walking back off into the East, from which he had come.
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There is naught that you can do, other than to resist, with hope or without it.
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