Thou art the inmost province of the fading isle,
Where linger yet the Lonely Companies;
Still, undespairing, here they slowly file
Along thy paths with solemn harmonies:
The holy people of an elder day,
Immortal Elves, that singing fair and fey
Of vanished things that were, and could be yet,
Pass like a wind among the rustling trees,
A wave of bowing grass, and men forget
Their voices calling from a time we do not know,
Their gleaming hair like sunlight long ago.
-from "Kortirion among the Trees", Tolkien

Atalantië (Runaway Star/Sercemaitë)
(http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1320001)
Winner of the 2003 Mithril Award for best action/adventure story.

Boston College, class of ought-seven. Muha!

Fela bið on Westwegum werum uncúðra wundra and wihta, wlitescýne lond, eardgeard Ylfa and Ésa bliss.