Lord of the Rings
by Edgar Allan Poe
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Dark Lord. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the Eldar and the Free Folk in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the White Tree went out with that of the last of the Free. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Will of Sauron held illimitable dominion over all.
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`A blunderbuss, was it?' said he, scratching his head. `I thought it was horseflies!'
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