Barrow-Downs Birthday Party at the Fields of Cormallen

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[Mithadan]

Having heard rumour of a party, Folly Furfoot and his friend Isengar respond in an appropriately Hobbitish fashion. In anticipation of the service of many fine meals, they attempt to arrive in a timely manner -- three days early.

Tiptoeing up to the forum entrance, Folly tries the door. Isengar, waiting impatiently behind hisses to his friend, "Well? Can we get in?"

Folly turns and shakes his wooly-pated head. "No. The door's locked." They listen for a moment and hear from behind the door the sounds of saws and hammers working feverishly. Even more promising (to the Hobbits' minds) was the sound of bottles clinking and the smell of food being prepared.

"There must be a way in!" cried Isengar.

"There is," said a voice from behind them. They turned to find Mithadan testing the edge of a long knife. "You must get by me first!"

As the Hobbits babbled nervous apologies, Mithadan took the knife by its hilts and, first placing a note on its point, sank it into the locked door. The note read:

-----------------

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BARROW-DOWNS!
On May 1, 2002, the forums at the Barrow-Downs reached the ripe (and I do mean ripe!)old age of TWO! While the site itself is a bit older, the second anniversary of the opening of the forums is a cause to CELEBRATE!!!!! Therefore, we will have a PARTY in celebration of the second birthday (uh, deathday?) of the Barrow-Downs forums and all members are invited!!!!!

PLACE: The Fields of Cormallen (the Freestyle RPG Room in a thread to be opened there).

TIME: Monday, May 20, 2002 beginning at 9:00am until ????

DRESS: Formal Middle Earth Wear.

There will be an open bar, and meals will be served buffet style.

COME CELEBRATE THE ACHIEVEMENTS OF THE BARROW-WIGHT AND THE BARROW-DOWNS!

RSVP

--------------------


"See you Monday and no earlier," said Mithadan with a meaningful glance at the blade. The Hobbits hurriedly fled to mark their calenders and dream about the festivities. Would the day ever arrive?

Mithadan checked to make sure the door and the topic were locked. He chuckled. No one would be able to post until monday when the party began.

[ May 17, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ May 17, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Mithadan]

The day dawned bright and chill over the green fields of Cormallen. Nearby, over the silver ribbon of the river Anduin, seabirds frolicked and cried in welcome of the new morning. On the green lawns stood many pavilions and tents, adorned with bright banners announcing the persons residing within. To the North stood a grand pavillion in which many persons worked feverishly preparing the breakfast buffet. To the left of the kitchens was a great stage upon which musicians readied themselves to ply their trade. To the right stood a vast canopy shading tables laden with every imaginable refreshment. Ice had been brought from the heights of Mindolluin and rested in silver buckets as all readied for the guests.

At the stroke of 9:00am, guests began entering the broad field from all sides, amazed that the barriers, fences and gates which had barred their way had abruptly disappeared. Minstrels wandered the crowds singing many tunes and the rustle of conversation rose to a great din until one mounted the stage and asked for quiet.

"Welcome," cried a man clad in grey breeches and a tunic of bright blue embroidered with threads of silver. A star was on his brows, reflecting the light of the rising sun as he surveyed the crowds with grey eyes. His raven hair blew in the breezes that came from the West. "I am Mithadan! And we are here for a great celebration! Indeed the greatest this place has seen since the fall of Sauron and the destruction of the Ring. We gather to do honor to he who we owe so much to. He who has brought us all together. The Barrow-Wight! Parise him with great praise! Eglerio!" And all cheered.

Then one stood forth bearing a harp of gold and begged leave to sing a song. His honeyed words captivated his audience:

[To the tune of the Theme from the Beverly Hillbillies]

"Let me tell you all a story
about a Wight named Ron,
an old dark wraith
barely kept his website on.
But then one day
while toying with his hoard,
he said 'I'll start
a brand new Tolkien board!'

Forums, that is.
A community.
Talking Tolkien!

Well, next thing you know
the Forums' up on-line,
with lots of new members
yes, its really doing fine.
Talking Elves and Dwarves
and other Tolkien things,
there's even space
to argue Balrog wings!

And Bombadil.
Discussions.
Chatroom too.
Y'all come by, y'hear!"

[Kuruharan]

A dwarf comes stolling along the refreshment table picking up just about everything. Taking up a bottle of the finest Dorwinion wine he uncorks it and raises it in a toast, "To the Barrow-Wight!" He downs the whole bottle in about five gulps. (Dwarves what can you do with them?!)

He then walks over to Mithadan to congratulate him on his excellent verse. "Combining Tolkien with the Beverly Hillbillies was a stroke of pure genius! Two of the highest forms of culture that have ever been created! Bravo, bravo! Encore!"

Goes back and graps some more refreshments then sits down expectantly, waiting for more.

[Daniel Telcontar]

Aduchil congratulates Mithidan on his poem. He also wants to give it a try:

The barrow-wight, whom we all praise
has gathered us to a feast,
and his banner on this field we will raise.
We should be merry, both the greatest and the least.
Wine is poured in cups for us to drink
So empty your cup and sink!!
Because it is now the time to celebrate,
if not the Wight, then this day at any rate.
Come from all corners of Middle-Earth,
the downs are the place where we have fun.
Your contribution is of great worth,
and we will feast until the setting of the sun.

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

[Rimbaud]

Assuming a familiar pose of reluctant inebriation, Stephanos sat beneath the arching boughs of a somewhat spindly silver birch. Opening a battered leather bound edition of Radical poetry he adjusted his breeches so that he was comfortable. He pretended not to be assiduously studying the faces of each new arrival.

He saw Princesses fair and comrades ...well, comradely... and considered rising to meet them. This would however reveal the fact that he had misjudged the beginning of the party and had "started early". Thus disguising his impaired stride and faltering vision, he remained cross-legged, smiling beatifically.

Behind those blue eyes however, were a million Machievellian machinations musing the best way to obtain fresh coffee without the need for motion.

Mithadan's good humoured recital cheered him and he briefly pondered applauding but the thought of the movement sent greasy shivers floating around him. He reached into his mysteriously compact bag and withdrew a dull and somewhat overused beaten pewter hip-flask and his tobacco pouch. Conversation would have to wait. Indeed, mayhaps he could play the misanthrope without causing offence...

Seeing some of the guests thronging towards the silken pavilions and recognising the smiling faces of those it would be unwise to ignore however, brought him to the realisation that he would not be able to remain here guiltlessly. Added to which he really had to remonstrate with Mithadan about the long curved blue slippers the man seemed to be wearing. So last season...

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Stephanos ]

[Cimmerian]

Cimmerian, the mighty barbarian strolls in, wondering what goes on. People in strange garb gather all around and the aroma of fresh cooked food fill the air.

The wild man scans the area for some nubile pleasantries.

Ho, mirth, merriment and mayhem, here I come!

[Mithadan]

Mithadan wanders through the crowd welcoming all and sundry as the inhabitants of Middle Earth converge upon the refreshments tables. A group of Hobbits have set up an impromptu congo line which weaves through the crowd. He waves to Daniel and walks up to Kuruharan who has started on his second bottle of wine.

"Where in all this chaos is the Wight?" asks the Dwarf, as he wipes a dribble of red wine from his beard. "I'm anxious to meet him."

Mithadan motions to a black tent set a bit apart from the brighter-coloured pavilions. Two Olog-Hai are struggling to move several statues of Hill Trolls from before the tent's flaps while a tall, pretty blonde Elf waits impatiently. Green smoke is streaming from beneath the cloth sides of the pavilion.

"The Wight has spent too much time underground lately and the humidity is playing havoc with his hair. So we called in Legolas to give him some styling tips. But the Wight had a guard of Hill Trolls set before his tent and when the sun came up... well you know what happens when trolls are exposed to sunlight. No one can get by the statues until they are moved. But it should not be too long..."

A crowd of screaming movie fans converges abruptly upon the blonde Elf. The Olog Hai flee in fear and Legolas demonstrates that his reputation for being fleet of foot is well-earned. "Well, maybe it will take a little while..." comments Mithadan.

[ElanorGamgee]

Elanor slowly makes her way past crowds to the refreshment table. She is wearing her Elvish-looking white dress and has her hair in curls with little yellow and white flowers. Anxiously she looks around for familiar faces from the last party and retires quietly in a corner, sipping a Dr.Pepper and constantly scanning the crowd. "Where is the Barrow-Wight?" she wonders. Suddenly a blonde-haired, handsome Elf dashes past her, persued by a stampede of girls. Elanor eyes the Dr.Pepper can suspiciously. "Ok, I know this stuff has a strange effect on me, but this is ridiculous!"

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: ElanorGamgee ]

[Kuruharan]

Ah, poor fellow. I come from a humid climate myself (glug, glug, glug) and I understand the difficulties of hair in such soggy environs. My advice is to just let your hair grow where it will, it's next to impossible to beat it into submission.

[walks over to Stephanos and gives him a friendly pound on the back]
"Hail and good weather, my friend!" He shouts at the top of his voice (which can be heard in the Barad-dur) "How art thou on this bright and cheery morn?!"
Is rather surprised to see Stephanos collapse on the ground and start moaning about his head.
"I think someone started his party early!" Kuruharan shouts again. "Let me get you some hair off the dog that bit you!"

Goes off to the refreshment table again.

[The Barrow-Wight]

The Barrow-Wight paced nervously back and forth in the innermost chamber of the barrow, his emaciated brow furrowed deeply, his remaing arm fidgeting aimlessly. The sword it clutched made an almost musical tinkling as it scraped the cold stone floor.

On his head was a golden and bejeweled crown, necklaces of great worth hung from his skeletal neck, and a long white robe, freshly stolen from a nearby tomb, covered his ancient, rustless armor. All was surrounded by a pale, fell light, as of moonlight filtered through marsh mist.

He began to mutter quietly to himself:

Cold be hand and heart and stone
and cold be forums when alone,
but smiling guise and secret lies
will bring them in, both young and wise

The Barrow-Wight's voice began to rise and fall, echoing strangely from the chamber walls.

Warm be heart and quick be mind
that discuss much until they find
they're trapped inside and though they strive
they'll not escape this tomb alive.

His sword raised high as the song became a piercing shriek.

Now come they faster, running hearty
thinking they attend a party
drinking ale, they soon turn pale
swooning as their senses fail

The song again became quiet and turned to a sad lamentation.

Laid out upon my barrow floor
the forum folk I've waited for
to join my sleep, I think I'll keep...
this story sure is getting deep

So now lay they all deep in dreams
no longer living, so it seems
but watch their eyes, all gals and guys
spring up and shout a huge SURPRISE!!!!!!"

Happy Birthday Barrow-Downs

It's been a great two years!

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[Aosama, the Wandering Star]

Aosama enters this grand gathering in her Rohirrim costume, and surveys the crowd.
"Hmm... we've got Elanor, Cimmerian, Stephanos, Mithadan, Kuruharan, Daniel Telconar. And me."
I grab a plate and start walking around, hoping to start up a conversation with whoever I recognize first...
This will be one amazing party! Lovely pavilions, Mith!

[Daniel Telcontar]

The wight has finally arrived. Now, the party can really begin!! IT is time for everyone to stop looking around in their dusty homes, and go to the feastsite. 'Cause the more we are, the more fun we'll have. So join in, everyone!!

[Aosama, the Wandering Star]

Hello, Your Wightiness! Enjoy the party!

[ElanorGamgee]

The Wight is here! Elanor hops up and down with excitement clapping her hands, as she has never seen a real live, er, dead Wight before.

Recognizing Aosama, Elanor walks over and greets her. The blonde Elf runs by again, this time dragging behind him a girl who has latched on to his heel and is screaming "He's mine! I saw him first!" "Watch out for the Dr.Pepper," whispers Elanor to Aosama. "I think it may be spiked."

[Birdland]

Birdland arrives, after having feverishly searched her closets for something...ANYTHING!...that still fits. She is decked out in a short skirt and a lonnnnggg jacket, a cambric shirt with no seams or needlework, a raspberry beret, and which all around her hat she has worn the green willow, silk stockings, and boots of Spanish leather.

She comes bearing presents! A huge box of bandwidth, some extremely rare Entish fonts which she picked up on e-Bay using the "Buy It Now!" option, some duct tape (for that arm, B-W), and a complete set of action figures from the 1978 film classic "The Lord of the Rings".

Hearing of B-W's frizzies dilemma, she rummages through her haversack and pulls out her industrial size bottle of "Frizz-Ease" Hair Serum.

"Here ye go, Bee-Dubya! It looks like snot, but it sure does the trick!" She races for the tent, but runs full-tilt into the flash-frozen stone trolls.

"Owwwwwww! My nose! My nose!" As Birdie dances around in pain, a group of early drinking hobbits thinks she performing a Springle Ring and join in the fun. An Elf with a banjo wanders over playing the theme song from "The Beverly Hillbillies".

Then a band of Beorns join in with a furious version of "The Caddrock Bop", and ask where the mosh pit is.

"Why do B-D parties turn weird so fast?" thinks Birdie.

[Aosama, the Wandering Star]

Aosama nods, thanking Elanor for the advice. Was that her, or did Legolas just run by with a troop of fangirls after him screaming, "Mine! Mine!" looking for all the world like three-year-olds after the best toy? Oh well. I must be hallucinatin'
*grins*
And B-D parties turn weird, well, because we've got a random events generator! I shudder to think what would happen if we all got to go to a B-D party in real life! *shudders*
"Elanor, do you think we should go on a Quest to rescue Legolas from the fangirls?"

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Aosama, the Wandering Star ]

[Sindacuion]

Sindacuion appears from the hills bearing gifts for the Barrow Wight. He has many golden rings and jewels of many kind. Sind puts the gifts on a table and runs for the buffet. "Yes, I know it's very un-elvish, but I'm hungry!" After gulping down many glasses of red wine and eating a couple lobsters, he wonders when is the fair princess, Estelyn Telcontar, arriving. "I sure hope she wont be as alte as I was from the last party." he says and sees that no-one is paying any attention.
As he walks around the fields he notices Stephanos lying on the ground. "What's the matter, old chum?" Sind helps the poor man up from the ground and heads for some more whine. "I know I shouldn't be drinking, but at this special occasion, I couldn't possibly refuse."
Sindacuion hears a strange voice coming from a black tent. "Ah! The Barrow Wight! It will be nice to meet him in person at last." He sits down on a garden bench and gets out his FotR. "Might as well read something before the action begins.."

[Estelyn Telcontar]

"No more of this undercover royalty for me," thinks Princess Estelyn, "this is the occasion to show my true self!" She dons her best long black velvet pantskirt (striding is still her passion!) and matching bodice, which is embroidered with crystals and mithril threads – it is indeed a replica of Arwen’s banner for Aragorn! “Now, if I only had a tiara! Oh well, I’ll figure out something.”
First thing she sees at the party is the gift table – so many jewels! Isn’t that a mithril circlet - it would do very nicely as a crown! She looks around surreptitiously, but everyone else is so busy with the food and drinks that no one evens notices when she “borrows” the jewelry. “After all, it won’t leave the party grounds, so if it’s for everyone’s enjoyment, I don’t think B-W will mind, do you? It looks better on me than on him anyway!”
Now, where’s the dancing?!

[ElanorGamgee]

"Oh, you see the fangirls too?" Elanor breaths a sigh of relief, glad that her beverage of choice is not to blame for the unusual sight. "Hmm, to quest or not to quest, that is the question..." A lot of partiers turn around and give her dirty looks. "Sorry, sorry, no more puns from me!" Turning to Aosama, she says, "We don't need a quest to solve this one." She gets an evil glint in her eye and waits for the stampede to return. As they rush by she quickly pulls a cord with one end tied to a pole the rest stretched across the ground in front of them tight, sending them tripping and sprawling about. Poor Legolas doesn't stop, but keeps running, shouting "Ai! Ai!" and various pleas for help in Elvish.

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: ElanorGamgee ]

[piosenniel]

piosenniel wanders in late to the party, having spent the wee hours of the night and morning conversing with an elf from the netherlands . . . smoothing down her short, shiny green dress with the swirly skirt just right for dancing, she glances around in hopes of finding some old friends.

'do my ears betray me,' she murmurs to herself. 'I think I hear the strains of a Clampett ditty come to Middle Earth! The voice, though, is lovely . . . and how rightly the lutist does the Appalachia banjo-picking style!''And, look! There goes a wondrous woman in a shirt from Scarborough Faire and boots from across the sea - Spanish boots of Spanish leather!'

The breeze from the west ruffles the short, raven curls of her hair, pinioned somewhat by the coronet of bright red holly berries nestled amidst dark green leaves.

Spying a group of hobbits dancing with increasing energy and abandon in a springle ring, she feels the familiar itching in her feet to join them. Their feet fly, bodies twirl and leap, arms in arabesques of pure grace beckon her. She runs to take her turn in the center of the ring, head thrown back, laughing in the sheer delight of the moment.

[littlemanpoet]

Littlemanpoet (alias hobbit-bard or something like that) comes over the hill in a wagon chock full of lutes, lyres, drums, bagpipes, and amplifiers with four angrogynous elves with white painted faces and miruvor in dainty stem glassware in one hand, instruments in the other, trying to work the bugs out of the following noisy rendition:

This is the real Downs
It's not just fantasy
Sneak in a barrow
To escape from reality
Open your eyes
look to Ea and see

I'm just a poor poet
not some ol' goblin's slave

(Hey guys, that's a weak line, work on it.)

easy come easy go
will you let me go
bismillah no
wight will not let you go
let me go
bismillah no
wight will not let you go
let him go no no no no
mama mia mama mia mam mia
let me go!
Morgoth Bauglir has a Balrog
set aside for me, for me,
for meeeeeAaauuuAGHHHHHH!!!!!

bah bah da bah bahda bahm
bah bah da bah bahda bahm

(out comes the elvish sword...)

ohhhhh baby
can't do this to me baby
I'll slice you with this sword
condemn you to the void
and I'm just gonna get righeeet outta heah!!!

bah bah da bah bahda bahm

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Sindacuion]

Sindacuion looks around and notices that Estelyn, the fair princess, has joined the party. "So nice of you to come!" After many hugs and smooches, they sit on the bench for a little chit-chat. He then notices the Hobbits dancing the springle ring. Sind grabs Estelyn's hads and takes her to the dancefloor. "Springle ring!!"

[Frodo Baggins]

Omigosh!!!! Omigosh!!!! I'm soooo so sorry!!!! I nearky forgot!!! *brushes tears away* Dont kill me for being late!!!!
well Sam's not here so I guess I'm not THAT LATE!

[Galadrie1]

Galadriel walks quickly behind Frodo. "Don't worry, Frodo, I nearly forgot, too." She strides over to a tree, leans against it, and watches the madness of the birthday party....

[Rimbaud]

************************

"That's just dandy," mutters Stephanos. "I wish I could be Bohemian like you." He brushes some lint from his crushed velvet jacket and flexes his feet within the patent Italian leather shoes.

He notices the Princess Telcontar gliding serenely through the throng. She glances idly in his direction, supine beneath the tree. Her hand flutters briefly towards him, her nails flash pearly white in the sunshine. His beleagured senses inform him that her hand is wreathed in white fire but his ceaseless cynicism denies the truth of the matter. His hip flask, clenched in his pale fist, glows red hot for the merest moment and he nearly drops it.

"What fell hell is this!" He exclaims. He lifts the flask to his pallid lips. Bitter bitter coffee pours in a stream into his gullet.

******************************

"Arraarrk!" he gargled. He hears Estelyn's pearly laughter swooping above the party. His vision failed him entirely. "I know who turned out the lights," he muttered darkly.

His vision cleared. He stood, uncertainly. It was unusual, for he was prone to being supine. "I will be punished for the post," he thought.

He espies the Wight striding towards the centre of the cicle formed by the Pavilions, a gaggle of admirers in his wake.

Deciding, foolishly, that a spin with Esty would clear his head, he skirted a sulk of teenagers and proffered his fine right arm to the radiant Princess.

"My lady," he mumured, stunned by his new found ability to be charming. " A dance?"

"My dear Poet, I would like nothing more, but for goodness sake you have coffee grains around your mouth and your shoes are missing!"

Ahh, such malfeasant forces at work!

Grasping at a nearby hobbit, he dried his mouth and asked the young hobbit to fetch his shoes promptly in return for something "to cheer you up". The hobbit's face brightened and he scampered off, shortly to return with Steph's shoes as the newly-sobered poet chatted amicably with Estelyn about the price of fresh-water fish and whether zifnab would make an appearance.

Stephanos passed the hobbit the pewter hip-flask with a chuckle.

"Now my lady," said Stephanos grandiosely. "My shoes were made for dancing as were your eyes!"

He prepared for the slap that inevitably followed such sallies...

[Frodo Baggins]

Sine were all describing waht were wearing....*leaning against a post out of breath from running*

I spent all yesterday getting this ready. Crisp white cambric shirt, dark reddinsh brown breeches, deep royal purple waistcoat, maroon jacket with green trim. A small mithril circlet on my head, and a glod chain around my neck decorarted with emeralds, rubies, dark opals, amethysts, and chrysoberyl (cat's eye). (the dwarves gave me the jewelry)

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Frodo Baggins ]

[Daniel Telcontar]

This is more to my liking!! The party have begun, and a great many folk has arrived. Now, Piosenniel, you promised me a dance, and now is the time. Bring in the wine, 'cause it's time to celebrate!!

[onewhitetree]

All of a sudden, the sun seems just a bit dimmer. Guests look up at the sky, puzzled, and their gaze is drawn to a glorious, if diminutive, figure making its first appearance. Everyone looks with wonder and curiosity at the dazzling radiance that has just entered the grounds.

Kate, in all her effervescent beauty, intelligence, wit, grace, and humility has joined the party! Everyone hushes in admiration of the magnanimous Chat Operator who selflessly makes a person immortal by means of Dictionary (which she has in her Magically Expanding Purse).

"Hello, my dear friends! I've come as Goldberry -- I bow and sweep my top hat to all!" She proceeds to curtsy, not a top hat in sight.

"I've brought you all a wonderful gift, oh, yes I have! I found him in a tree just outside the party grounds, peering in with binoculars rather suspiciously, and of course I knew that it was Orald! ...er, Durelen... hmm...MacGyver? Anyway, he has come as Tom Bombadil, fittingly. Isn't he so cute?!" Kate proceeds to pinch the disgruntled-looking Tom's cheek.

"Now all you young ones be sure to take advantage of his wisdom, for such chances in life are elusive! He is happy to do trivia for hours on end, I happen to know!"

Kate promptly disappears with a thud-like sound, and a sly grin spreads over the face of Tom Bombadil as he replaces his yellow boot on his foot. His eye fixes on the bar, and he starts to stroll across the field, nodding to those he recognizes.

Then there is a flash, and Kate reappears with a vengeful look on her face. She stomps over to the bar and slaps Orald around a bit with a large trout.

[Galadrie1]

Galadriel looks up quickly "Did someone say wine?". She looks around and finds a bottle and a couple glasses on a table. she pours a glass and sips carefully, not wanting to spill any of the dark red liquid onto her long white dress.
She walks over to Frodo "I love your outfit!" she exclaims, bending over to get a closer look at the necklace....

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Galadrie1 ]

[Aosama, the Wandering Star]

I'll follow your example and describe my clothes and accessories too. Am wearing long, flowing green dress with white and golden trim. Hair is up in braidy-bun, with some strands and braids loose. Has golden circlet and white dancing slippers. I'm Rohirrim, if you haven't guessed.
Shocked that Legolas did not thank Elanor for her help, Aosama wanders around, and looks rather silly joining in the Springle-Ring with some hobbits... ah well. I suppose a Rohirrim dance will get started up soon!
*glances round at refreshment table* yum! goodies!

[Kuruharan]

[still over by the refreshment table; seems to be pouring a suspicious liquid into the vat of Dr. Pepper; glances around to make sure nobody is watching; suddenly grabs a leg of roast mutton]

This roast mutton is delicious! And so are these mushrooms!

[walks over to littlemanpoet]

Love your poem, but how about gibbering slave?

[holds out platter of mushrooms]

Mushroom?

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Kuruharan ]

[Mithadan]

Mithadan watches as a gang of Dwarves, using tent poles as levers and beer kegs as fulcrums, topple the last "stoned" troll freeing the trapped Wight. A cheer fills the air as his decrepit figure shambles out from the tent.

Camera shutters click as the press converge on the Wight. A brave but foolish reporter shoves her microphone at what passes for the Wight's face and asks, "Is there any truth to the rumour that you are the father of the love child of Akasha, the Queen of the Damned?"

The Wight turns slowly to face the reporter and, raising his hand, screeches, "OFF TOPIC!". She vanishes in a flash of multi-coloured netherworldly flame leaving an oily pile of ash in her place.

Birdland turns and smiles. "Oooo. He's in a good mood today!."

[Child of the 7th Age]

A chubby, good natured hobbit with hair and skirts flying approaches the party tent, relieved to see that all barriers and threatening missives have disappeared. She wears a red cap with a feather jauntily perched on the side which immediately marks her as an official carrier for the Shire messenger service. Her grey pony Razar (so called because of his propensity to devour small red apples) carries bulging mailbags on either side of his flanks.

She ties up Raza, kisses him on the nose, and bursts into the party dragging behind her the heavy mailbags which are now spilling cards and letters in five directions at once. Clearing her throat to gain the attention of the many guests who are already a bit inebriated, she explains: "I have here many missives and greetings sent to the Barrow-wight, most of them apparently good-will wishes (although some may be otherwise). However, the many hobbits who have sent these greetings neglected to put proper postage on the envelopes. I must therefore ask you to rectify this oversight before I can officially deliver this mail!"

Seeing that no one is paying attention to her plea, she attempts to corner Frodo Baggins and Galadriel and bludgeon them into making good on this arrears. They look at her with amazement. Since she is a small and quite unthreatening hobbit, she is understandably unsuccessful in this regard. She decides it's best to let the whole thing go, leaves the mail scattered on the floor, and repairs to the buffet tables to begin her lunch.

She waves across to say hello to Birdland and Littlemanpoet, and also to Piosenniel whom she has recently learned is also a member of the "Frodo Lives" generation of Middle-earthers. She soon forgets her earlier woes (and her later mail deliveries) as she enjoys the music and her large plate of mushrooms.

[Galadrie1]

Galadriel, feeling lost in the chaos of the party, waves good-bye to Frodo and finds a tree that's out of the way of all the action. she sits, with her back against the tree, and giggles at the sight of a Rohirrim dancing with a group of hobbits. she sips her wine, and wonders if she'll ever feel like she "belongs".

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Galadrie1 ]

[Frodo Baggins]

Oh! why, thank you Galadriel. Yes the dwarves ande it for me. My three favourite colors you know. Plus I love dark opals and chrysoberyl. maybe I should go to the other topics and remond people of the party. Oops! Cant forget this! *draws out white jewel on chain, a gift from Queen Arwen and puts it over dwarf chain*

[Galadrie1]

Galadriel quickly runs back to Frodo "sorry, i thought you were ignoring me" she hugs frodo, and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "run along now, and spread word of the party!" She quickly downs another glass of wine, and pours another. She giggles, and walks back to the tree.

[Frodo Baggins]

Frodo had poured himself a class of wine. after a few sips he strolls over and takes part in a few hobbit dances. Returning to his glass he looks in it, shrieks and flings the glass about 20 yards away, fortunately it dosent hit anyone. Frodo, looking a bit pale, laughs nervously "Sorry, there was a spider floating in my wine, I don't know if it crawled in or was put there."

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: Frodo Baggins ]

[Kuruharan]

His plate of mushrooms now being empty, Kuruharan wanders up to Child of the 7th Age.

"So they would not pay their postage would they? Tsk, tsk! The nerve of some people! What's this Middle earth coming to?" All the while he is helping himself to generous handfuls of her mushrooms.

"Oh, these are so good! Thanks for sharing!" [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

"Really you have to try some of this beef, it's excellent. The lembas isn't bad either."

[munch, munch, munch]

[piosenniel]

The music stops abruptly and whirling springle-ring dancers crash into one another, falling down like children in a ring-around-the-roses game,laughing.

A stern look, and one raised eyebrow from Mithadan, bring the hobbits and piosenniel back to their senses, just in time to see The Barrow Wight step out onto the field. 'Oh! It's Himself!', cries one of the younger hobbits, hopping up to get a better view.'

'What's He saying?', whispers piosenniel to the hobbit. 'Something important and profound?!'

'Powerful,' I should think whispers one of the other hobbits. 'I think I just heard Him incant *OFF TOPIC!* followed by a large plume of oily smoke!'

'Ooh!' cries piosenniel, clapping her hands together and shivering with excitement. 'Do you think it's his preamble to the fireworks? I love fireworks!'

'Are you sure you're not half-Hobbit, miss? You love to dance and you love fireworks!' says the young Hobbit, glancing at the elf's feet, as if they might suddenly have sprouted a thick crop of Hobbit hair.

'Well, now, there is a old family story about a fair elven maiden and her dalliance with a certain Meriadoc Brandybuck - could be true, could be true!', she says laughingly and winks at the questioner.

There is a pause in the speechifying, as some wights shovel off the errant reporter(who now joins the party as the newest of the Newly Dead)and piosenniel takes the opportunity to look about for Daniel Telcontar who has boasted of his ability to outlast her in a dance or two or three. But where is he? She forgot to ask what he would be wearing, and the crowd is growing by leaps and bounds . . .

[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]