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Amid the pile of cards and gifts sat a tiny scroll of expensive, cream-colored paper, rolled tightly and tied with a deep red ribbon. Unrolled, the scroll read, in a rolling, hilly sort of handwriting:
Dear Wight,
Even in the time I've been here, I've been lynched by an angry mob, murdered by a werebear, killed innocent villagers in the dead of night, raced mountains across Middle-earth, became a man-at-arms at a mead hall, and captained a Gondorian ship against the corsairs (the RPGers should know about those last two). I hope to see this site still going as strong six years from now!
Here's to six more wonderful years of the Barrow-downs!
Respectfully yours,
Alcarillo
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