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Visit The *EVEN NEWER* Barrow-Downs Photo Page |
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#41 |
Cornus Caliga
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Ithaeliel bounced up and down anxiously in the black leather-upholstered backseat of her hired stretch limo, her large hazel eyes following the streetlights as they went by and her mouth pursed into an impatient frown. Looking at her watch, she let out a groan and rolled down the barrier between the backseat and the driver's seat. "Can't you go any faster?" she pleaded with her chauffer as she leaned forward, her pale skin catching the glow of a passing streetlamp. The driver glanced back at Ithaeliel as he sighed and adjusted his cap. "Miss, I'm already going five miles over the speed limit and I've run two red lights. I'm trying to get you there as fast as I can. See? Here we are!"
Ith jumped up, hit her head on the roof of the car, and immediately sat back down. "Great," she grumbled, "My first anniversary at the Downs and first time at the Downies, and I'm going in with a welt on my head!" As the limo came to a stop, the driver turned around in his seat. "Miss," he began as Ithaeliel viewed the crowd outside. Ith diverted her attention. "Hm?" "Have a good evening, and don't be nervous." Ithaeliel sighed again as he came around to open the door. "Don't be nervous, don't be nervous..." she told herself as she made her way onto the red carpet, holding her head high and trying not to trip over the back of her strappy red dress. She entered the room to be faced with chants of "Archer, Archer," filling her ears. "Oh, fantastic!" she said as she found her seat- reserved next to those of Mattius, Brinniel, and Auriel- and started to applaud. "Amanaduial really deserves a Downie. She's great." [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]
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That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love. .................William Wordsworth |
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#42 |
Shade of Carn Dűm
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"Oh!" Arafangwen exlaimed
"Where are my manners today! Firondoiel, this is LinGalad, he was so polite as to let me sit here with him. LinGalad, this is Firondoiel, a very good friend of mine." she said as she smiled warmly at Firondoiel. "Where did you go last night?" she asked although she was likely the better recipient of that question. *Be Back Tommorow, Don't Kill Me!*
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i indo ye vanya mi amaurëa cálë~*Lúcëwen*Elerína*Eruiel* Soooo..... I'm still doing the wave, anyone else? Anyone? Yeah!! Hmmm... What is that? |
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#43 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Menelien tried to speak to a few people at once, failed miserably, and tried again. "Eladoriel, you are not my mother. 2 weeks and 5 days is not a sufficient age difference for you to boss me around." Menelien started, then couldn’t help herself, and cracked up laughing, Eladoriel joining her. "Hi Firondoiel, I thought you had gotten lost... somewhere." To the Elf she didn’t know- "Hi. I’m Menelien. You may have seen me earlier, I was *ahem* swinging on some chandeliers...'And to Arafangwen- "Yes, I think Trippo is coming soon. I couldn’t make sure, as I am drunk enough to have just let El drag me here. Damn hangovers!" At this point Menelien felt that her ability for speech had expired, and nobody was listening anyway, so she just sat and hoped fervently that those who she was supposed to present awards to would be there shortly, and that she would be able to think up an impromptu award speech. Ah, the troubles of life she thought, listening to somebody snoring loudly behind her.
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"Glue... very powerful stuff." |
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#44 |
Cryptic Aura
Join Date: May 2002
Posts: 5,991
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Bęthberry caught yet another frown from Mithadan who was once again pointing to his watch. She looked out at the crowd of Downers in the auditorium and decided it was time to push ahead with the announcements.
She caught the bandmaster's eye, and he signalled a drum roll as she walked over to the microphone. Ladies and Gentledead, we have a rare honour to acknowledge here tonight. RPGing is an art of interaction, of taking direction, of cooperation-- Here Bęthberry noticed Mithadan making frantic slashing actions to his neck, and so she nearly decided to take longer making her presentation. But when she saw the wargs move closer to the stage, she decided to take mercy on the patience of the audience. Yet it is not often that we have gamers falling over each other attempting to set up ensemble ownership. Everyone wants a piece of the ideas, but no one wants to do the real writing of proposals. For this reason, I must call upon a cast of thousands, er, well, really just four, Auriel Haevasawen, Brinniel, Ithaeliel, and Mattius, whose model of deportment is a, um, model for all of us. Ladies and Gentledead, I am pleased to award the Downie for Fastest Delegation of Writing Responsibility for a Proposal in an Ensemble Cast to the four owners of The Blue Mountains and Threat of the Trees. Maestro, please, will you play Carly Simon's "Procrastination"? Or, on reflection, make that "Anticipation? The background singers immediately sequed into a rendition of Anticipation, Anticipation Is making me late Is keeping me waiting A huge round of cheers and applause filled the hall as people caught sight of four Downies being presented at once.
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I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away. |
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#45 |
Vice of Twilight
Join Date: Nov 2002
Location: on a mountain
Posts: 1,121
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Nurumaiel burst in rather wildly and looked about. Hoping nobody noticed how late she was, she took a seat. "What's going on?" she whispered to an Elf next to her. The Elf replied that Aman had just recieved an award. Nuru grinned and attracted Aman's attention, giving her a thumbs up and a little nod to say, "You deserve it."
She would relax for awhile and think some more about her presenting speech. It was already beginning to form in her mind. . . it was almost perfect. . .
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In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand in every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand. |
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#46 |
Wight
Join Date: Mar 2003
Location: The Citadel
Posts: 212
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Nobody noticed the small figure of a dwarf sneaking up and sliding back into his seat next to The Phantom. He leanded over and as quietly as he could without being inaudible he asked Phantom "you think either of us will get an award? and where's trippo at?"
while eyeing the balrogs with an uneasy stare he looked over and realized his plan had worked, arafangwens hair was smooth and silky, she'd used the shampoo he slipped into her bottle this morning during her shower, as soon as it came into contact with water again, it would turn bright blue! ohh, "revenge is a dish best served cold" he thought, quoting his favorite show. (Star Trek for all of you out there who didn't get it) [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img]
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Why are you reading this? Go outside, be happy, get some sunlight! You're so pasty and thin! You horrify me, GO! Get some light before they take you too! It's too late for me but SAVE YOURSELF! For more LOTR fun, Join The Citadel! |
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#47 |
Stormdancer of Doom
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"Swinging on a chandelier. Ah, yes, I do remember that spectacl-- er-- seeing you earlier. Yes. Well-met, Menelien." Menelien smiled, and then turned to Arafangwen and mentioned something about a hippo.
LinGalad listened as the names rolled musically off Bethberry's tongue: "Auriel Haevasawen, Brinniel, Ithaeliel, and Mattius." He leaned sideways, his elven eyesight of little use to him when blocked by a hobbit-child's body. "Do you mind?" Gamba objected as LinGalad blocked his view. "Sorry, " LinGalad muttered. "But I think-- Yes! I saw these folk at a distance crossing the plains toward Isengard!" "Where?" Gamba replied irritably. "Isengard! Isengard!" LinGalad shouted in frustration, earning strange looks from those nearby. He blushed. "Er, I mean, Hurray! Bravo! Well done, Auriel Haevasawen, Brinniel, Ithaeliel, and Mattius!" [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve. |
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#48 |
Fair and Cold
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"Valiko! Smotri Valikoko, Zarbazan prishel!"* Announced Lush and plopped next to Heren and Squatter, took a beer without asking, made Heren open it, took a swig, and started complaining that "this is no Trappiste."
Then she remembered herself (or tried to remember, the past day or so having been a smoke-stained blur punctured by bad punnery), smiled an innocent brilliant, gazillion-watt smile that could power the entire London metropolitan area and the suburbs, complimented Squatter on his cuff-links for the 20th time that week, assured Heren that Georgian soccer pales only in comparison to Ukrainian soccer (but who's counting the goals?), and clapped vigorously for everyone that she has missed, especially for burra, because he drew her a cake once, and while she couldn't eat it, she could dream of eating it, and for writers that's all that counts (so it's really no wonder that most writers end up starving in the gutter for at least one point in their aimless, debauched lives). *-Inside joke. Disregard if you've no mastery of the Russian language (or, to put it in plainer terms, if you're just not cool enough).
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~The beginning is the word and the end is silence. And in between are all the stories. This is one of mine~ |
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#49 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
Join Date: Aug 2002
Location: Mirkwood
Posts: 571
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"Where did I go last night?" Firondoiel repeated. "I believe I went to speak to Earwen before the awards started. What about you?" she asked Arafangwe.
Just then LinGalad asked "What forset did you say you were from?" "Actually I didn't say. But I'm from Mirkwood." Firondoiel replied with a radiant smile. "I see." said LinGalad. Just then Bethberry anounced a new award. Firondoiel clapped and cheered along with the crowd. "Where are you from?" she asked LinGalad. [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Firondoiel ]
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"Forth, and fear no darkness. Arise. Arise, Riders of Théoden. Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered. A sword day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending!" |
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#50 |
Deadnight Chanter
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'Lush!' exclaimed H-I, 'You do look fascinating. It's definitely a luck and pleasure to see you. Tell me, are you still planning to merry Squatter here? If yes, I'm going to challenge him'
HerenIstarion turned to Squatter again 'What kind of weapon do you prefer for a duel, good Sir' asked he and bowed solemnly 'I must have lost my gloves somewhere' he went on. ' Can socks be used for a purpose?' 'If you want to prevent the bloodshed,' that was addressed to Lush again, 'You have to drop the flower you have in your hair between us. Alas to rob it of your beauty, yet that is the only way' H-I grinned once more [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: HerenIstarion ]
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Egroeg Ihkhsal - Would you believe in the love at first sight? - Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time! |
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#51 |
Spectre of Decay
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Squatter paused in the midst of his applause to greet Lush with a lazily inclined beer can. Indeed it was not Trappiste, instead being Roper's Old Bizarre, but it went down well nonetheless. Two beer cans clicked together as all eyes focused once more on the stage with varying degrees of success.
'Bravo! Bravo! Well done!' he called with gusto, making a mental note to read the roleplays more often. 'I like awards ceremonies,' he continued. 'There's always plenty to drink.' Suddenly he realised that Heren was asking him the most bizarre question of the evening. 'I favour swords,' he replied. 'But I believe that my answer was never given, so perhaps we could defer our duel until after the ceremony. I shouldn't want either of us to miss it due to an attack of mortality. Have another beer.' Passing his would-be opponent a can of bitter, and now sadly beginning to think like a character in one of Sheridan's odder plays, a bemused Squatter returned his attention to the vitally important matter of the next presentation, which, he decided, could not be made sooner. [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rűdh ]
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Man kenuva métim' andúne? |
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#52 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Eress looked about the crowd. 'There aren't too many people here,' she thought. 'I must be early,' Eress said aloud as she saw (an innocent-looking) Lush enter the room. She wandered here and there, looking for a place to sit. 'Is this seat taken?' she asked, pointing at the empty chair nearest her.
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Holy angel, in Heaven blessed... My spirit longs with thee to rest! ~Faust Never judge a book by its movie. ~J. W. Eagan By the big slippers of big slipperdom! ~M. Gillenormand, Les Misérables My blog! |
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#53 |
Summoner's Soul Mate
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Maika grumbled at Cuthalion, "First Archer, then Pio..." He arched an eyebrow at her curiously, not exactly sure what she was talking about. Ever since Pio had sent her that PM things has been a bit...edgy. He handed her a tray of chocolate chip muffins and she smiled radiantly. "Thank you,love." she said in a voice that boded well for later.
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#54 |
Drummer in the Deep
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: Next Sunday A.D.
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I clapped furiously for the award winners and screamed as loud as I could, which was heard by exactly one person.
"What?" he said. "Oh, nothing," I sighed.
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But all the while I sit and think of times there were before
I listen for returning feet and voices at the door |
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#55 |
Shade of Carn Dűm
Join Date: Mar 2002
Location: The wrong place at the wrong time.
Posts: 385
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Galad quietly slipped into the auditorium and took a seat that was slightly away from everyone else. She smoothed her red dress and reached up to make sure her hair was still absolutely flawless. She sat quietly and waited for the next award to be presented.
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"For this is what your folk would call magic, I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem to use the same word of the deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel." |
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#56 |
Stormdancer of Doom
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Momentarily distracted by the arrival of a woman dressed in gleaming white and smiling radiantly, LinGalad watched as the apparition of innocence seated herself neear Squatter and HerenIstarion. Ere long, a particularly blank look crossed Squatter's face, and LinGalad wondered what mysterious power the the woman in gleaming white posessed, to have such an effect on the erstwhile unflappable Squatter, whose face remained studiously passive thereafter. LinGalad returned his attention to his new friends.
"Firondoiel, I am also from Mirkwood. However, I don't get out much," he admitted with the beginnings of a blush, "And I am also, er, not very old. So I am sorry to say that I have never heard of you 'til today. I, ah--" he dodged as the fourth hobbit-boy popped up in front of him, snatched a braid in one fist and said to Firondoiel, "Hi. I'm Roka. I know where Mirkwood is." "Hush! " Gamba snapped at him. "Don't tell anybody that. And let go of his hair!" LinGalad frowned at Gamba, untangled Roka from his braids, and resumed his conversation. "I am a ropeweaver, and a ladder-knotter by trade. Firondoiel, what is your family trade in Mirkwood?" [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve. |
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#57 |
Wight
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: GONDOR!!
Posts: 138
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Sillabub was furious! She hadn't played HALF of the songs she had intended to, plus FRAUL (YES, you STILL haven't arrived!)hadn't arrived yet. Moping, she entered the auditorium.
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They were holding umbrellas. Not just any umbrellas- BLACK umbrellas. Not just ANY black umbrellas- these were...(knuckle-biting time) the BLACK UMBRELLAS OF DEATH!!!!! *cue sinister music* |
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#58 |
Cornus Caliga
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"Auriel Haevasawen, Brinniel, Ithaeliel, and Mattius, whose model of deportment is a, um, model for all of us. Ladies and Gentledead, I am pleased to award the Downie for Fastest Delegation of Writing Responsibility for a Proposal in an Ensemble Cast to the four owners of The Blue Mountains and Threat of the Trees."
Ithaeliel's eyes became wider with every word as she heard the sound of a Downie being presented- to her and her friends and co-owners! As the music cued up and a roar of applause filled the room, the only thing Ith managed to squeak out was the word "us?" Yet at the same time, she thought to herself, should we deliberately go up sluggishly to live up to our song? But the thought passed from her mind as Brinniel helped her up by the arm, and Ith shook hands and recieved hugs alike as she scrambled to get out of the row. As Mattius, Auriel and Brinniel filed out onto the carpet, Ithaeliel trailed behind, hoisting the folds of her dress up above her feet so she could attempt to walk. The four recipients were suddenly up on the stage, and Ith was thrust in front of the podium. The audience quieted in "anticipation." Ith took a deep breath like she was always told to do, and then she looked out at the expectant bunch of formally dressed Downers and laughed nervously, her stomach tying itself in knots. "Um... wow," she began. "This is an honor for all of us. I totally was not expecting any sort of award tonight; I don't know about you guys," she said, looking over her shoulder at her fellows, "but I am surprised. I have a lot of people to thank for this. First of all, this could not have happened without the three awesome people behind me. They've all taught me something about ownership, roleplaying and teamwork. Radagast, Mattius and Calentoliel; give it up for them!" Cheers went up in the room and Ith smiled with satisfaction and glee during the pause. "And," she continued, "Bethberry, who presented this to us. She is the moderator of the Rohan forum, where both our games have been hosted, and she's helped us immensely with ownership duties, tips, been tolerant of our strange ways of co-owning and ensembleship, and through it all has been a friendly and patient person. You rule." Another round of applause filled the house. "I also must thank Iaurlachien, who brought us all together. The Blue Mountains really was her RPG, and we only joined it, and I have to say that she is missed and I hope to see her again soon so that we can tell her about how much we learned from her RPG and how much of a success it's been! And last, but definitely not least, the other players from the Blue Mountains and The Threat of the Trees. Those from the Blue Mountains were Faye Took, Iaurlachien, and Olo Gamwich; and I'm afraid to name all the people in Threat of the Trees because there are so many that I'm afraid I'll forget someone. I love you all! Thank you!" The audience roared loudly as the next recipient of the group stepped up to the podium.
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That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love. .................William Wordsworth |
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#59 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
Join Date: Aug 2002
Location: Mirkwood
Posts: 571
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Firondoiel appluaded Ithaeliel then turned to LinGalad. "My father is one of King Thranduil's guards. To be honest I had never heard of you either until today. And the loss is indeed mine." Firondoiel replied.
She then directed her attention to Roka. "Hello Roka. That's wonderful you know where Mirkwood is. How old are you?" Firondoiel asked with a large grin for she loved children.
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"Forth, and fear no darkness. Arise. Arise, Riders of Théoden. Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered. A sword day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending!" |
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#60 |
Eidolon of a Took
Join Date: Sep 2002
Location: my own private fantasy world
Posts: 3,460
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Backstage, Diamond was pacing back and forth in agitation. Time was growing short, and she wasn't growing any taller, and so she could not wait any longer. It must be done. She now perceived that the time had come to present her award. “No, no, no,” she said to the Time, “you’re not presenting an award to me…oh, never mind…”
She double, triple, and quadruple checked the envelope to make sure that the card was tucked therein. Satisfied of this, she made her way towards the stage, but was stopped by the light touch of an Elven hand upon her arm. “Is it time to make the presentation?” Vogonwë Brownbark stood there with pointed toes, adjusting his hairbow. “Er…yes, I’m going to present an award, but—” “Oh, but don’t you remember? You promised that I could recite a poem in honor of the recipient!” Diamond vaguely remembered making such a promise, sometime during the party when she had not been altogether sober. With a sigh, she nodded. As she did so, the lovely Pimpiowyn of the red-gold curls appeared at Vogonwë’s elbow, holding a penny whistle. “What’s this?” “My musical accompaniment, of course,” Vogonwë replied. “You’re going to sing?” Vogonwë nodded gracefully, and Diamond stifled a groan. Well, at least it can’t be as bad as Dwarves in bikinis, she resolved, and led the way onto the stage. Diamond stepped up to the microphone and tapped it. “Testing…testing…is this thing on?” A horrible, screechy static noise ensued. “Good. Ahem. It is now my utmost pleasure to present The Radagast Special Achievement Award for Best Performance as an Endangered Species. This estimable award, coveted by all, yet not received by many, goes to…” There was a dramatic pause as Diamond savored the moment, opening the envelope and, ever so slowly, pulling out the card, turning it over, and reading it carefully before proclaiming, “The Ghastliest Neekerbreeker to ever breek a neek…Birdland!” *Wild, frenzied applause.* Diamond continued, “Since Birdie could not be reached in time, accepting the award for her will be a flock of Neekerbreekers.” A cloud of buzzing insects swooped down upon the stage, and with a thousand little buggy limbs, they hefted the hefty golden tombstone from Diamond’s hands and flew away, giving the audience the distinct impression that the award was floating across the room. “In Birdland’s honor, Vogonwë Brownbark and Pimpiowyn Took will now perform a…er…something,” Diamond said, and stepped away from the microphone, clapping politely and trying not to wince. Pimpi began to pipe upon the penny whistle, playing Concerning Hobbits by Howard Shore. The crowd smiled at the pleasant sound, until Vogonwë began to sing. His voice was not all that bad, in fact, he had quite nice vocal chords and a clear tenor. But his lyrics did not keep perfect time with the melody (to put it very, very nicely), and so he was constantly drawing out or shortening words in an unnatural waver that reminded the audience of a shipwreck. Birdland is her name, Endangered Species are her game, Midgewater is her domain! My she forevermore there reign, In sovereignty! Birdland! Give her a hand! Ain’t she grand? Birdland! Give her a hand! She’s never bland! Radagast would be proud, And wowed, To see this crowd, Praise her so loud! For suuuuuuuuuure! Suddenly, the microphone gave off the most painful, mind-numbing, teeth-vibrating wail of high-pitched feedback the world had ever heard. Diamond rushed up and pushed Vogonwë aside. “THANK YOU!” she screamed, several notes of hysteria in her voice. She fought for composure, uttering some forced laughter. The audience was deathly quiet, looking as if they’d been clobbered over the head with an assortment of amphibians.
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All shall be rather fond of me and suffer from mild depression. |
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#61 |
Shade of Carn Dűm
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Menelien sat silently beside Eladoriel.
"Menel? You kay? Oh no, not again, please tell me you are NOT asleep." "Course not! How do you expect me to be asleep with this - erm - child... - er - I think?" Menelien replied innocently. Arafangwen whispered to Eladoriel and Menelien, "Yes, it's a child. These children are easily mistaken for as monsters though." She said with a giggle. "Hey!" The crazy child said, partly-overhearing. "Oh, nothing sweetie, we were just discussing... um... how sweet you and your brothers are!" The child nodded approvingly and settled back down. Eladoriel then continued to pay attention to Bethberry, who was now speaking. "I wonder if any of us will get an award..." Said Eladoriel. "Well, after the chandelier thingy I don't think I'll..." Menelien trailed off as Bethberry started to announce the winners of the award.
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The world was young, the mountains green. No stain yet on the moon was seen. No words were laid on stream or stone, When Durin woke and walked alone... |
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#62 |
Shade of Carn Dűm
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Arafangwen listened with interest LinGalad and Firondoiels conversation.
"I'm from Mirkwood also." she added with a grin. "I was not born there, but I was raised there by my adoptive mother Isilindil. We share a few, errm, qualitys, might I say." she added with an inward groan thinking that she had proably said to much already. *I'm actualy leaving for the night now, don't kill me*
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i indo ye vanya mi amaurëa cálë~*Lúcëwen*Elerína*Eruiel* Soooo..... I'm still doing the wave, anyone else? Anyone? Yeah!! Hmmm... What is that? |
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#63 |
Corpus Cacophonous
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: A green and pleasant land
Posts: 8,390
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Following Mithadan's announcement that the Downies award ceremony was about to begin, the Saucepan Man had made his way to the auditorium and settled down in a seat near the back. There he sat enthusiastically (and, of course, noisily) applauding the recipients of the Downies and, between awards, busily polishing his pots and pans.
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Do you mind? I'm busy doing the fishstick. It's a very delicate state of mind! |
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#64 |
Scent of Simbelmynë
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Sophia plugged her ears as the pennywhistle, the poetry, and the microphone conspired to fill the air with screeching. She applauded lightly for Birdland's notable achievement.
Throughout all the other competing sounds Sophia thought she caught the distinct sound of pans clattering together, spinning in her seat she realized that it was the Saucepan Man making his entrance. She called out to him over the heads of the crowds, "CHECK YOUR PMs!" he nodded in assent and she turned back to the award show.
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me! |
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#65 |
Estelo dagnir, Melo ring
Join Date: Oct 2002
Posts: 3,063
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"Well," Rytien said to Lyra, "I wish we had had the chance to do the food fight, but, this is what I've been waiting for...I like award shows that do not contain people from 'Hollywood' of 'pop culture'." She paused, frowning for a moment. "And I have never found one of those, so..."
Lyra congradulated Aman on her award, and Rytien followed, "Yay Aman, the English teacher!" [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] "You truly deserve it. I mean, you have to walk away with something going with Dutch elfy boy..." Rytien smirked, she was pretty sure she was not the only one who wished to pluck his eyes out. Out vile jelly! she thought, and grinned. "I wonder what's next," she said, coming back to the awards show. |
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#66 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Menelien yawned so hard her jaws cracked. Eladoriel looked at her disapprovingly and shook her finger. It looked so tempting that Menelien couldn't help but bite it. (Dejavu, Maya...) As Eladoriel yelped in pain and all those around her turned to look, Menelien snuggled into her seat and closed her eyes, hoping that her friends would wake her up if anything was presented as she slept...
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"Glue... very powerful stuff." |
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#67 |
Cryptic Aura
Join Date: May 2002
Posts: 5,991
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pio pushed Bęthberry back out on stage. Go help her, for pity's sake. It will take more than a bad mike to get rid of Vogonwë.
Bęthberry reluctantly walked back out on stage, her ears ringing more from the fractured verse than from the screeching mike. Clapping her hands with much glee and delight (she was sure said hands would be quite raw and bloodied by the time the evening was concluded) she smiled her immense satisfaction at Birdland's achievements as a naturalist and then whispered delicately to another of her favourite companions from Revenge of the Entish bow. Diamond, my dear, shall I inform Vogonwë that I have just received a very Private Message from O Lando? There is some possibility he will be appearing this evening. Diamond's slightly hysterically feverishly shocked face took on a look of relief tinged with delight. She turned to Vogonwë, mouthed the words, 'O Lando's coming', and watched as the peripathetic poet promptly passed into paroxisms of sputtering, hapless platitudes and plaudits of imperilous envy. Bęthberry handed Diamond a handkerchief and both women, as delicately as they could in these post-SARS days, wiped the sprayed spittle from their faces as they led the distraught dispatcher of disproportioned dithyrambs off the stage.
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I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away. |
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#68 |
Eidolon of a Took
Join Date: Sep 2002
Location: my own private fantasy world
Posts: 3,460
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Vogonwë gradually regained some semblance of composure, and Diamond gladly left him to the tender loving care of Pimpiowyn. She didn't much care if Pimpi soothed his fears or tore his heart out and fed it to the Wargs, so long as she could have a little quiet time.
Diamond expressed her thanks to Bęthberry for the timely rescue, and decided to find a seat to relax in and watch the rest of the awards. Trying to quell the nervous twitch which had developed in her right eye, she collapsed into a chair next to the pungent Squatter, Heren Istarion, and Lush (who was pristinely pure and pungent). “I thought it would never end,” she sighed. “Do you have a spare can of beer for a beleaguered presenter?” Meanwhile, Pimpi dragged Vogonwë off to a pair of empty seats in the far back, where she would not have to be so embarrassed by his public display of jealous consternation. Her heart fluttered a little at the thought of seeing O Lando again, but she sat down with a contrived bland look (and tried not to glance at the entrance of the auditorium too much.) Vogonwë calmed a bit, and it occurred to him that the seclusion of their location offered a prime opportunity to passionately neck. But five seconds and a slap in the face later, he contented himself with resting his arm across the back of Pimpi’s chair. [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Diamond18 ]
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All shall be rather fond of me and suffer from mild depression. |
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#69 |
Beholder of the Mists
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: Somewhere in the Northwest... for now
Posts: 1,419
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Gorwingel sat in her seat, waiting to see who would win the covited award. She was very excited because this was one of the most wonderful events she had ever attended in her life.
The theater was beautiful with long velvet curtains on each side of the stage that were decorated with tiny glittering drops of mithril (the velvet was the color of light mint). The velvet was so shiny that it must have been woven by Galadriel herself. Along the of the curtain was a beautiful handcarved cornice that was colored sliver with more glittering stones. Above the stage was a chandelier that must have been made of the finest stones found in the mines of the dwarfs, and in the back of the stage was a wonderful mural covered with pictures of trees. It was a specacular natural setting.
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Wanted - Wonderfully witty quote that consists of pure brilliance |
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#70 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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It had to be said that Fin was very tired. He had never know it before (he had been known to go for weeks without any sleep) but this party was different. He assumed it must have been something to do with the copious amounts of Mudwater he had consumed.
He was now sat, his head resting on Sophia's shoulder, the material of her dress comforting. He had grown used to having her around in the last couple of days. "Don't fall asleep now!" she chided, as the singing thankfully finished. "How can I with that," he replied. "The singing..?" "No, your beautiful face starring at me." Sophia shook her head, grinning. He never stopped! Fin sat up as he saw Chicken finally enter the hall. He was mute again (he must have sobered up) and sauntered down the isle until he reached their row. He squeezed past Alatariel and prompty hopped up and sat on Thoriel's lap before she could refuse. She starred at him for a second in disbelief, but then she smiled and absently played with his feathers, listening to the speaker once again. Fin returned his head to Sophia's shoulder and dozed as her voice (aimed at Annun) drifted by him. His arm rested on hers and he felt warm and cozy. Where's the flirt gone? asked his inner voice, sarcastically. Shutup! Fin replied and happily cuddled Sophia. [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: the real findorfin ]
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Legends of Middle Earth |
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#71 |
Stormdancer of Doom
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"Bird! Bird! Bird!" whooped Gamba, and the four little hobbits cheered and hooted, jumping up and down in their prospective laps, til the elves' eyes bugged and several more "oofs and ows" were heard.
"I know about Mirkwood because--" Roka began. "Not another word!" Gamba ordered, and Roka clammed up. No further coaxing from Firondoiel could get any information out of theboy, or any of the others. But they pelted the elves with questions about their hair and clothes and jewellry, and how come Bethberry was so pretty, and why there were wolves backstage. "And when I grow up, I'm going to be an elf, " Roka announced. "Where is Bird, anyway?" Gamba muttered. "Probably in sombody's collar. I wish she'd turn into a dragon just one more time." "Dragon?" Arafangwen said, startled. "Flagon. She, ah, sometimes disguises herself as a bottle of wine," Gamba hastily said. "That would be dangerous around here, " Firondoiel replied with a meaningful glance at Squatter, Lush, and HerenIstarion. "You said Dragon, I heard you," Arafangwen insisted. Gamba changed the subject. "Hey, look at that. A Chicken!" [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve. |
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#72 |
Scent of Simbelmynë
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Sophia wrung her hands with nervousness as she slipped out of the aisle where all her friends were seated. She'd had a chance to freshen up her clothes since the party, and Fin had bought her the promised new flowers for her hair. She breathed deeply in and out. She looked fine, she knew what she was going to say, there was no need for stage fright.
As soon as the previous presenter left the stage Sophia crept on. She tapped at the microphone and a large spotlight fell on her. Nobody looked up, so she tapped a little louder. A hideous screech escaped the mic and everyone looked up at her. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. Pulling together her last nerve she smiled. "Hello everyone!" she said into the microphone, feeling utterly ridiculous. "I tried to get some important people to come and present, but unforunately they all cancelled at the last minute." (She paused thinking about the very rude phone call she'd recently gotten from one Alex Trebec, stating that $20 on short notice was simply not enough to make a trip to Gondor at this time of year worth his effort.) Clearing her throat she continued, "This next award goes to two people who will understand what I mean when I say (although they will doubtless laugh at my lack of skill): Flying voices, weaving words, The quizzers never find them, The stories told of Elvenesse hidden now with such finesse In scrambled letters hide them." The audience stared at her with a blank look. Sophia's face turned red as she scaned the audience for any sign of comprehension. "Well, with no further ado then," she said, "the winners of the ‘The No One Can See All Ends Award’ – for their captivating, tortuous, and downright aggravatingly obscure use of language and verse in the Quiz Room - Words in Words/Riddle Me This section are...." The Jeopardy theme song began to play in the background and the audience members began to sing along. As it reached the end Sophia raised her voice and announced, "The Saucepan Man and Nuranar!" [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me! |
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#73 |
Song of Seregon
Join Date: Feb 2002
Location: Following the road less traveled
Posts: 1,193
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Alaklondewen slipped quietly in the door, and looked for the group. She caught sight of Annun in the second row and made her as quickly and quietly as she could.
She slipped into the seat next to Annun, and whispered, "Excellent seats." Annun nodded and they turned their attention to the stage just in time to see Sophia present the next award. "Saucepan Man and Nuranar!" The crowd went wild. Alaklondewen jumped to her feet. It was a real thrill to see the Quiz Room fanatics being recognized. [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]
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At last I understand why we have waited! This is the ending. Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fear pass away! |
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#74 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Slipping in unobtrusively some time before, Nuranar had contented herself with watching the show from a solitary seat in the balcony. Solitary, because her close friends - very close, you see - Tarondo and Luinien, seemed to have lost themselves early in the merriment of the pre-Awards party.
See if I use them again anytime soon! she reflected a trifle vindictively. It appeared that the Monday Mathematics Mayhem had conveniently concealed the calculated character of her hero and heroine's happenstances. (In other words, she's only got herself [and Calculus] to blame.) Her ruminations were not improved by the unpleasant discovery that both feet had gone to sleep. Of course, if people will persist in tucking their feet beneath them while in formal wear at an award show, there is nothing more to be said. Nuranar was suddenly torn from her malicious meditations by the melodious - er, melody? - of the Mistress' voice. "...The winners of the ‘The No One Can See All Ends Award’ – for their captivating, tortuous, and downright aggravatingly obscure use of language and verse in the Quiz Room - Words in Words/Riddle Me This section are...The Saucepan Man and Nuranar!" In rapid succession, shock, incomprehension, incredulity, suspicion, and finally pleased realization followed each other across her expressive face. (Suspicion and Incredulity paired up on the way across, as so often happens.) Nuranar found herself staggering down the balcony stairway (which was inside the auditorium, thank you very much), stumbling slightly on her still-asleep feet. The long trek through the enormous auditorium soon got the blood moving, though, as it would be expected to. And she thought she didn't look too bad as she ascended the steps to the stage. Her brown-gold hair glowed in the spotlights, and from experience she knew her sky blue gown was bringing out the blueness of her eyes. Bowing gracefully to the ever-gracious Sophia (who, while no quiz [see J. Austen's definition], is no mean quizzer herself) and accepted a golden Tombstone. The Saucepan Man's tumultuous on-stage appearance threw off her train of thought, and she was mentally unprepared for the metallic ordeal of his enthusiastic embrace. Released, Nuranar found herself staggering once more, only to bring up sharply - face-to-face with a microphone. Get over it, part of her brain said to her in detached amusement. You knew that was part of the deal - accept the award, make a speech! it sniggered. Fine, I'll show you! she argued back to herself, quickly stepping forward and smiling graciously to cover both hesitation and blank mind. Er... "I must avow my astonishment at being chosen as the recipient of a Downie, but the honor therein is not a whit diminished." Nuranar grinned at the slight glazed look appearing in the eyes of some of the more inebriated attendees. Ever merciful, she [tried to] moderate her vocal expressions. "Although I am no newcomer to the Downs" - coughs significantly and points not-so-subtly at her "Registered" date - "I have rarely been a frequent visitor of the Quiz Room. Recently, I think I have been escaping there to avoid the harsh realities of Engineering Calculus the Second and Data Structures in Computing. Trust me, there's nothing like a computer science lecture to stimulate the brain into devising fiendishly contorted riddles! "But although my time in the Quiz Room has been short thus far, Sophia herself has been a wonderful foil, often posting right before I realize the answer, dang you," grinning, "and The Saucepan Man has been a worthy opponent. A certain Word still lies between us, in fact," she hinted, turning to the oh-so-innocent-looking Pan Man with what a friend terms "the Spock look." "And I wish to thank the Barrow-Wight himself and all of the moderators and administrators who work so hard to make the Downs such a pleasant, if deadly, place to be. Thank you all!" The crowd erupting in cheers, Nuranar bowed and returned to Sophia's side. As He-Of-The-Shiny-Cooking-Implements strode majestically and near-deafeningly to the microphone, she restrained giggles at the chants of "NU-RU! SAU-CY! NU-RU! SAU-CY!" emanating in no uncertain terms from a certain quarter. I'll need no introduction to that set of hobbits, she thought. They and my brothers would get along so well, it'd be a really scary sight. Nuranar smothered another chuckle as something more occurred to her. "Nu-ru", eh? I wonder what Nurumaiel thinks of that. [ May 06, 2003: Message edited by: Nuranar ]
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I admit it is better fun to punt than be punted, and that a desire to have all the fun is nine-tenths of the law of chivalry.
Lord Peter Wimsey |
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#75 |
Corpus Cacophonous
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: A green and pleasant land
Posts: 8,390
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At the mention of his name, Saucepan jumped out of his seat, his pans rattling and jangling in sympathetic surprise, and the small milk pan that he had been polishing dropped with a clatter to the floor. Hastily fishing it out from the seat in front of him and fixing it back in place, he rose and made his way down to the front of the auditorium, clinking and clattering in time with the theme from Jeopardy as he went. As he had been sitting very near the back of the hall, Nuranar reached the stage before him.
As he made his way up the steps leading on to the stage, he nearly stepped on a stray neekerbreeker that had become parted from its fellows during the painful confusion of Vogonwë’s recitation. Managing successfully to avoid it, he nevertheless lost his footing and bumped and crashed back down the steps. Picking himself up, he looked round sheepishly. For a second, in his embarrassment, he toyed with the idea of making a break for it, and then spotted the familiar snout of a Warg peeking out from behind the backstage curtain. Steeling himself (stainlessly), he hopped back up the steps and on to the stage, waving at the audience as he did so. Fortunately, he managed to reach the microphone without further mishap. Enveloping first Nuranar, and then Sophia, in a hug, much to their astonishment and slight discomfort, he took the hallowed Tombstone and held it aloft. Looking out into the audience, he saw that there were many faces that he recognised. He spotted Lush, her air of innocence refreshed with such skill that her pure white aura gleamed brilliantly in the darkened hall and reflected stunningly off the mirrorball which, Saucepan noted with satisfaction, had been fixed to the ceiling of the auditorium. Next to her were Squatter, slowly sinking into an Old and Bizarre stupor, and Heren-Istarion who Saucepan was glad to see had finally woken up. Diamond was there too, as were many other familiar faces, Annun, Menelien and LinGalad to name but a few. Saucepan stood there beaming at the assembled guests, his wizened face glowing with happiness, while Nuranar accepted her award. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As Nuranar finished her acceptance speech, the Saucepan Man stepped forward to the microphone. “Fellow Barrow-Downers” he began. “My dear Elves, Hobbits, Men … um … Hippos, Chickens and …” glancing nervously at the twitching curtains “… Wargs. Thank you one and all. I am delighted to accept this ‘No One Can See All Friends Award’, although I must say that I can see many friends here in the audience ...” “It’s the ‘No One Can See All Ends Award’ “, Sophia hissed in his ear. “… er, sorry, the ‘No One Can See All Ends Award’ …” Saucepan studied the words engraved on the Tombstone and his brow furrowed in concentration. “Hmm, ‘No One Can See All Ends’ “ Saucepan pondered. Then, his face lighting up once more, he exclaimed “Is it Eä?” Catching an impatient glare from Sophia out of the corner of his eye, he continued “Thank you so much for this award, which I am delighted and honoured to accept. The Quiz Room is a curiously addictive chamber where I have recently spent many a happy hour poring over my new, but nevertheless well-thumbed, Tolkien Companion straining to construct suitably fiendish cryptic clues, only to find them answered within minutes of posting.” With this, he flashed an affectionate mock scowl at Annunfuiniel. “I would like to thank all those who have made the Quiz Room such a challenging, yet friendly, place to haunt. Those who I would like to mention in particular are Beren87, Pallando PC, gilraën, Gil-Galad, Alaklondewen, Annunfuiniel, Lindolirian, Eruanna, elven maiden Earwen, Lyra Greenleaf , lathspell, Estanesse and, of course, Nuranar and our friendly neighbourhood Thunder Mistress here. I am sure that there are others that I have forgotten, for which I apologise, but all you fellow Quizaholics know who you are. My attendance at this party and ceremony has necessitated my absence from the Quiz threads for a few days, but rest assured, I shall soon return. And finally, a big thank you to everyone on the Downs for making it such a wonderful place to be, and in particular, to the Barrow-Wight himself for making it all possible in the first place.” With that, he raised his pan-laden arm in a salute to the eerie green smoke rising from the private box near the stage. As he made to leave, he turned back to the microphone and added “And, for those still stumped by my latest Words in Words concoction, look for a Beatles song where all troubles seem so far away.” “HAPPY DEATHDAY TO THE BARROW-DOWNS!” Saucepan gave a happy wave and strode jauntily from the stage, tripping once again down the stairs with a crash and a clatter, to the surprise of no one. Undaunted, he made his way back to his seat and slumped down contentedly. As the ceremony continued, he took out his linen cloth and polish and began furiously rubbing away at the magnificent Tombstone in his hands. [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Saucepan Man ] [ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Saucepan Man ]
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Do you mind? I'm busy doing the fishstick. It's a very delicate state of mind! |
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#76 |
Fair and Cold
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Lush passed Diamond a beer (it wasn't Trappiste, but Lush planned to remedy her inability to afford the greatest beer ever by marrying an oil oligarch one of these days...if the need for good beer is not a pure one, I don't know what pure is), and cheered vigorously and enthusiastically for her friends, so vigorously and enthusiastically, in fact, that she forgot herself and launched into a ridiculous rendition of "In Da Club" for the Saucepan Man's benefit.
Diamond only wished that there was a trout nearby to thwap Lush with, alas only an empty pack of Davidoffs was on hand. Diamond's efforts brought Lush out of her smoky trance, and she turned to Heren, and whispered (innocently): "He's not drunk enough yet anyway," while admiring Squatter with a gaze so pure that it would have made Queen Victoria look like Monica Lewinsky.
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~The beginning is the word and the end is silence. And in between are all the stories. This is one of mine~ |
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#77 |
Stormdancer of Doom
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"NU-RU! SAU-CY! NU-RU! SAU-CY!"
LinGalad blushed at the uproar that the hobbit-boys were making as Saucepan Man perused the audience, but when he saw The Saucepan Man smile happily about it, he reminded himself about variations in customs between differing lands, and took a deep breath. "Sau-cy," he began, hesitantly but slowly gaining momentum. "Nu-ru! Sau-cy! Nu-ru! Sau-cy!" Firondoiel elbowed him. "Louder, silly!" "Oh, I'm doing the best I can!" LinGalad muttered, blushing yet again. On his other side, Gamba sank an elbow deep into his ribs. "OOF!" "That's it. Louder, " Gamba laughed. "SAU-CY! NU-RU!" "Not bad." "You know, these little hobbits seem to be good for you, " Firondoiel chuckled. LinGalad shot her an indignant look.
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve. |
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#78 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Menelien opened one eye for a moment, looked at the Hobbit kids, and decided it wasn't worth it. She closed the eye again and settled down for the night. And maybe the whole day tomorrow, too..
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"Glue... very powerful stuff." |
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#79 |
Shade of Carn Dűm
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Menelien yawned loudly, and Eladoriel shook her finger at her. With a snap, Menelien bit the shaking finger in front of her.
"OW! You dope, why'd you do that?" "Dejavu... Remember?" Eladoriel did remember. One time, Menelien had done something annoying, and Eladoriel shook her finger at her. At that unfortunate moment, Menelien thought it tempting to bite down on the finger. "Yes, I remember. You DON'T have to remind me. But since you bit my finger, I get to hit you back!" Eladoriel said, loosing her line of thought in a childish temptation. She hit Menelien on the ribs, so hard that the elf immediately sat up with a "OOOOWW! THAT HURT!" Eladoriel replied, "Tisk, tisk... I still have the bitemarks on my finger. And they hurt too." Menelien was NOT going to stand for this. Without even intending to, this is what she did: "Are you *punch* okay?" She said, all in a flurry of moves and words. Eladoriel was going to fight back, when she heard the most awful screeching noise. It was the microphone. An elf was singing into the microphone. The singing seemed to be so bad, that even the mic couldn't stand it and had to protest. They all shut their ears, and within a few moments when Eladoriel looked back on Menelien, she was asleep. "She's hopeless." Eladoriel said aloud. "Tell me about it!" Arafangwen added.
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The world was young, the mountains green. No stain yet on the moon was seen. No words were laid on stream or stone, When Durin woke and walked alone... |
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#80 |
Scent of Simbelmynë
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After the whole commotion was over, Sophia slipped gratefully back into her seat, thankful that she hadn't been noticed more. Fin it seemed was thankful for this too, for as soon as she sat down his arms were back around her and his face against her shoulder. She cast a slightly helpless look at Annun and Alak who rolled their eyes. "Hello Raindrop," he said to her. She wondered if he didn't need a constant flow of alcohol to keep him alive, as he'd been asleep the whole time he'd been sober.
When she mentioned it to Alaklondewen it was only moments before she'd turned around and asked Squatter and H-I if they had a beer to spare. The glittering Lush passed one forward and Sophia handed it to Fin, hoping against hope that it would liven him up a little tomorrow. The cries of SAUCY! NURU! were still going off around her, and feeling a little reassured she joined in, much more at home in the screaming crowd than on the stage.
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me! |
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