The Unexpected Unparty!

[alatar]

alatar quickened his pace. He didn't want to be late for the Barrow-Downs' Birthday party this year, unlike the one last when he'd almost missed the whole event...pretty embarrassing for a moderator, even though he a minor one at that. He made his way up the hill. The much-trampled grass path that led to the door was obvious beneath his feet - no need for any signposts or any finding spells to locate the Downs this day.

Not that that was always the case.

The Door. Finally alatar made his way to the great stone door that shuttered the barrow from the un-undead world. The slight grimace on his face bespoke his thoughts. What would it be this time? Would the Door open as expected, or would he try in vain to get into the Downs until weariness led him off to camp elsewhere, awaiting a sign that the Door was open once again? Surely the Door would open on the day of the Birthday party, wouldn't it? But wouldn't that be a little funny, the Door stuck and all...though perhaps the party could still be held just outside upon the lawn. What would it be? Those that knew alatar knew that he doubted everything. He gave the door a nudge with his staff, ready to start the fight by preparing to shove even harder, and yet, unexpectedly, it opened with ease. Phew! He had gotten into the Downs and made it to the party on time. 2-0.

Just what was the problem with the Door anyway? Too many old bones jamming up the works? Wasn't a dwarven dead repair crew here just recently checking over the hinges and frame, updating the Door (or so they said), or whatever it was they did with all of that hammering and knocking about? Newly smithied mithril hinge pins and an iron threshold were good things, weren't they? Or maybe it was all some ruse...

Bah! Such thoughts on the Downs' Birthday were better left outside the doorway. He continued into the Downs, stepping over the threshold, hearing muffled sounds of other Downers further within. "Wonder what wonders this year's party will bring?" he muttered as he walked...something was different!



No! No! No! Surely it was a joke.

A comment box!?!

Well, not a box, but a barrel, and the barrel that wasn't a box had been placed just inside the doorway. The shiny silver sign above reflected the outside light, and it was this that caught his attention. It read:

If you are experiencing technical difficulties with the Barrow Downs Door, please fill out a note card and place your comments in the barrel below.

Thanks. - The Webmaster

alatar's grimace this time was accompanied with rolling eyes. "Spiders! Figures..." What use is a comment box inside the place, he thought. "If I can get in..." He shook his head. Regardless, the barrow barrel seemed to be a popular thing, seeing that all of the note cards were used up, and those along with other scraps and bits of paper were stuffed to overflowing in the barrel, and lingered about the floor, which, as he looked, alatar noted were around the back of the Door as well. The slight draft that accompanied him through the doorway whisked more of the comments about. That might explain why the Door got stuck at times. He immediately considered graphing the number of comments with the times that the Door got stuck, but then thought the better of the whole idea - it was nitpicking tangents like this that made him late for parties.

He stooped low to pick up a few of the note cards - curiosity always got him. What was all of this? Mixed within the comments like "I can't get into the Downs!" and "Help!" were others - long-winded tomes regarding what some members did while the same members cooled their heels at the closed Door and other short notes like "Come over to my camp until the Door gets fixed." There were even a few birthday greetings in the pile. Seems that some of those already here at the birthday party used the cards to well wish the Downs on its birthday, while others complained about the Door.

Hmm...what to do, what to do. On the ground there were a few blank note cards about dropped carelessly. alatar took one and thought that it would make a fine birthday card...and yet the urge arose to mention, backhandedly of course, the issues with the Barrow-Downs Door. It would take but a minute, and using the pen chained to the wall next to the comment box, he began to scratch away.

[alatar]

alatar quickly finished his scribblings...

[Estelyn Telcontar]

In a hole in the ground there was a Forum. Not a nasty, forbidding forum, filled with snooty insiders and flaming trolls, nor yet a dry, dusty academic forum with highbrow essays and no place to have fun: it was a Downs Forum, and that means comfort! It had a perfectly accessible door painted black with glowing green letters on it. The door opened into a many-tunnelled maze of sub-forums provided with inviting threads and lots and lots of space for visitors, for its members were fond of newcomers. There were rooms devoted to book discussions, others for those interested in movies, and still others for the learned, who knew where the answers to questions of import were to be found. From one room peals of laughter came; it was obviously filled with mirth. Other rooms were devoted to the telling of stories.

Estelyn stepped up to the Door briskly and expectantly. Today was a very special day, and she anticipated a party of special magnificence in celebration of the event. It was a birthday – no, not yet an eleventy-first; still, eight was a reputable number of years to have spent among such excellent and admirable members. She silently rehearsed the spontaneous speech she intended to hold: “I shall not keep you long. I have called you all together for a Purpose. First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all...” (Well, almost all, she thought with a rueful smile.)

She could not hear voices inside as she laid her hand on the knob, but that did not worry her. It was early, and she liked it that way. It would give her time to check whether everything she had prepared for the party was in place. Her fingers turned the knob, but nothing happened – the Door was shut. A sign proclaimed, “Only the dead can pass.”

“But I am one of the dead here,” she thought. “I even have a small key, the very least of keys, yet I must enter to use it. The One Key to open all is held by the ghastly hand of The Barrow-Wight alone, and he sleeps under his mound. What can I do?”


She awoke with a start. The sun was shining into her window reassuringly, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that the horror of which she had dreamt was only a nightmare. Hurriedly she prepared herself for the big day and ran to the Door. But what was this? The barrel that she had filled with greeting mathoms for the guests was now empty, save for the notes and cards that were strewn around it. Apparently others had attempted to come, but she now stood alone. Her nightmare had come true. No food, no drinks, no music, no presents – would there be no party today?

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Determined not to let a setback like this stop the most important event of the year, Estelyn pondered the alternatives. Write a birthday greeting and leave? That would fulfill the polite duty, at least, to congratulate the Barrow-Wight on this day. But she felt that it would not be enough; after all, the Barrow was a place of meeting for its members, and that needed to be celebrated with a gathering. If the Barrow could not be entered, perhaps they could...

A precedent occurred to her - long ago there had been revelling outside a barrow. Fortunately this time there had been no loss of clothing involved! A lawn party - that was it. Quickly she took a card and wrote a notice in bold letters:

Written birthday greetings may be left here. For all who have time, please join us on the lawn outside for an impromptu birthday party: come as you are, bring what you wish, and let's have fun today!

She tacked the notice to the Door above the barrel and smiled in anticipation.

[Rumil]

Rumil was wandering slightly aimlessly, as usual. Important events and mighty deeds may have existed somewhere at the back of his mind but at the front there was very little that might be dignified as thought.

Distractedly, he sauntered across the grim, grey-green threshold that signified one of his habitual lurking spots. There were strange pieces of card and paper notes littering the entrance, a few of which he idly tickled with the tip of his boot as he made his way into the comfortable emerald glow of the barrow. Suddenly he stopped, his eyes coming sharply into focus for the first time in the last half-hour.

'Party? Party! What's all this about then?', then bending to examine a card, 'Alatar must be around here somewhere, and there seems to be some sort of problem with the door. How strange!'. With the tip of his finger Rumil gently pushed the great, but cunningly balanced, slab of granite that served as the barrow door. As usual it swung to and fro at the lightest touch, sometimes seeming to slow down unnaturally mid-swing then speed up again, as was characteristic of this eerie place.

'Hmmm', said Rumil, 'there's something funny about this and no mistake', and pondering, suddenly exclaimed 'It's yesterday!, or tomorrow or something, surely isn't it? Far, far away from my home-barrow, it should be yesterday, but my palantir has forgotten that I have traveled so many leagues and thinks it is now tomorrow. Oh dear my head is aching.'

A light interrogative cough emanated from a far corner of he barrow, where mysterious passageways twist and turn enough to make you dizzy. A click-clack on the floor as of party shoes on bare stone, and a faint squirrel-esque chittering, heard as if in the far distance. 'I know who that is'

'Hail and well met Estelyn!' cried Rumil, glad to see a familiar and friendly face 'I'm not really sure if it's yesterday or tomorrow at the moment, but I got in easily and
I guess it doesn't really matter,'

'After all, I have pizza!'

[Estelyn Telcontar]

"Hi there, Rumil!" Estelyn waved. "I want to take a look at some of these greeting cards; want to join me? When we're done, we can head out to the lawn and party there - I'm never too sure about these Barrow doors staying open."

She stooped and saw a card with familiar handwriting - her own! Her eyebrows furrowed as she recognized a complaint she had written in weeks gone by:

Hey, Beedubya! What's with the forum? I can't get in and neither can others. There must be something wrong, and you're the only one who can fix it.

That would never do! She couldn't leave that in there on this festive day, could she?! But all attempts to surreptitiously remove the card failed; it was stuck, and it looked like it wasn't the only one of its kind.

"You know what?" she said, turning to Rumil. "Pizza sounds great - let's head outside!"

[Rumil]

Rumil trailed after Esty, manfully struggling under the weight of the pizza boxes he was carrying.

Outside the barrow the sun had finally broken through the mist, the grass was warm and fragrant and the air was still.

Pizza was duly divided and consumed...

But there was still plenty more for latecomers,

'Mmmm, Esty', said Rumil, 'Its been great to see you again and share some pizza, but the sun on my neck (not to mention the huge quantity of pizza I've eaten) is making me slowly but surely doze off to sleep. Many apologies, its most un-gallant of me but I can't keep my eyes open any longer, maybe when I wake up later the garden party will be in full swing, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz'

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

A barely visible shape silently crawled across the lawn towards the place where Esty and Rumil were sitting (and lying). When it reached Rumil's back, it lifted itself and it could be seen now that it was something similar to an Elven cloak that made it blend with the lawn. From under the hood, staring eyes shone out.

"Hello, Esty," whispered Legate, careful not to awaken Rumil. "Can I sit down?" When she nodded, he took off the cloak, and unfolding it into unexpected width, he sat on a tip of it.

"I have been at the Door," he said then. "And then I saw you. But I expected a party to be going on here - and this far there's not as many people around as I thought." He looked around, at last lifting his eyes up to the sky.

"At least it's sunny," he said. "Quite a pleasant day." He dipped into his pocket and took out a bottle. "You want some?" he asked. "It's not miruvor, but..."

He opened the bottle. But at that moment, strange dense mist came swirling out of the mouth of the bottle, starting to form into the shape of a human-like being. Alarmed, Legate quickly put the stopper back to the mouth of the bottle.

"Sorry," he said. "Wrong bottle. I must have taken my genie instead of... well... sorry for that. But what are we now going to drink?"