action.

[bronwe]

[ Frodo arrives rolling and tumbling across the floor.

There was a great shadow over him then, something with a terrible stench and legs too numerous to count. And now, light. He shields himself from the brightness and scoots back until he bumps against the wall, then scrambles to find shelter behind a couch. It hurts his eyes. The air is suddenly too clear, everything too clean. He fears it is a trick.

He speaks in a hush, afraid to alert the enemies but more afraid of being alone. ]

Sam? Where are you, Sam?

Comments

[bronwe]

I should turn 51 in September. [ Which reminds him... ]

What is the month?

[majestic_leader]

Holy shi-- [This runt was older then DeMarco.] Damn, man, you look good for half a century.

It's January, so you got some time.

[bronwe]

[ He gives a half-hearted smile. He knows the reason for that now. ]

Others have said so. I suppose I would have time to plan then.

[majestic_leader]

Yeah, you going to have a big shindig?

[bronwe]

No, 51 isn't so special an age. [ He seems a little embarrassed to admit that, even. ]

Would you?

[majestic_leader]

Well, usually the big party is at 50, but hey why not 51, yeah? I'll take a party any time I can get it.