A/N: In October 2007, I asked readers of my LiveJournal to provide a sentence that I would use to begin a story. This story begins with the sentence provided by aprilkat.

Frodo stared in disbelief at the letter he held in his hand. He had stumbled across the dark, corked bottle during a walk along the Tol Eressea beach, but never in his wildest dreams could have imagined *this* would slide out when the cork was pulled.

A familiar scrawl covered the rolled paper and he skimmed the signature, just to be sure. Perhaps his eyes deceived him, but somehow he knew he saw aright. The bottle thumped gently on the ground; his knees buckled to dump him on the sand beside it as he began to read.

Dear Mr. Frodo . . .