In the vast expanse of the Edoras countrysides, where rolling hills kissed the sky and fields stretched as far as the eye could see, an ancient evil stirred. The land of Rohan, once known for its brave warriors and noble kings, now faced a new threat that lurked beneath the shadows of the towering Fangorn Forest. Word spread like wildfire through the villages and hamlets, carried on the whispers of the wind.

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In the quaint and peaceful land of the Shire, nestled amidst rolling green hills and babbling brooks, a sense of harmony pervaded the air. The hobbits, with their round bellies and hairy feet, went about their daily lives, tending to their gardens and indulging in their love for second breakfasts. They were blissfully unaware of the dark shadows lurking beyond their borders. Deep within the ancient forests that skirted the Shire, a pack of fearsome werewolves roamed.

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