On Growing Sentences

I took a seat on the train, pulled out my notepad, took my pen in hand. The pen’s tip scratched across the paper, and a sentence was drawn out in ink —

Travelers in the lands west of the River Anduin, on the well-worn road that runs from Imladris to the Grey Havens, speak of inns and taverns with great reverance for, though they draw few patrons in these dark days as whispers speak of a nameless terror rising in the East, these inns, especially The Green Dragon in Bywater and The Prancing Pony in Bree, are bastions of warm shelter, good food, stout drink, and enchanting song, offering a measure of comfort to those who venture abroad.

Believe it or not, this sentence is for work.

I also think this sentence diagrams…

It wouldn’t stop. I would think I had reached the end, and then another clause appeared!

Sentences are mysterious like that. You lose control, they do what they want.

I like this sentence. It’s most appropriate for Mid-Year’s Day.

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