The sun rises, but not for long. The bright morning vanishes as a storm moves in over Johnson's gentle hills, draping a dark cloak upon the land. Snuffed like the wick of a candle, the last days autumn come to an abrupt end - without so much as a single leaf from the colorful months beforehand.
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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