And the singletree, for pullin a load. I am shore that Rich has oft in the past bedded down at dawn with the collar n traces still hooked to the tree.
I infiltrated the glen one moonish night and saw Rich and his band of elves gathered round the base of an old can of RIG. They were packin the strangest collection of firearms ever seen by mere mortal. Good thing I had taken my prophylactic dose of uncle Enus's straight pipe single malt, or I would have neer been able to see em so weel.
They were variously armed, for huntin newt to hefalump, from humper to harpie. But best of all they were workin on one of those computer server thingies so they could enlist the aid of elves from all over the galaxy to assist in their quest to hunt down the dreaded anti and dispatch them with logic, facts and informed vote.
Being free elves, they had no need for the green of mortals, no gold nor baubles, they were all extremely rich already in that they were free and knew it. They appreciated their freedom and wished that those who had it not but wished it could also enjoy that freedom.
When I awoke, I thought it a wonderful dream. Then when I booted up and TFL was on the first screen, I knew that it had not been a dream and all was still well.
Thanks Rich and all the hard workin elves.
Sam, follow me, the water is just over that next ridge.