2020: tempestuous and unpredictable as a summer storm, but not without a strange, restless beauty of its own.
There is still much unexplored on the forest floor,
Unseen beneath the boughs of endless trees
In darkening Dolennan, the hallowed Holtmark
When light is foregone and shadows grow stark
Upon shimmering Dûenedril and shrouded hill
Fingolfin hesitated, standing there before the immense doors that rose far above him.
Why? Why am I here? This is madness.
"Andy, can I hug you?"
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