After her nose stops throbbing, Birdie realizes she has some catching up to do. "This has turned into a real 4-Pager party!" she thinks.

She watches as Bee-Dubya makes his first appearance among his assembled thralls. He's looking really good in his regal putrification. Suddenly a reporter from the National En-Shirer-er brings up that old chestnut about the "Akasha connection".

"Geez", thinks Birdie, "give it a rest. Anyone can see that the brat doesn't look anything like him", turning a significant glance towards Mithadan.

Suddenly, those magic words "abduct and sacrifice" rings through the hall. Yes! Will he go for the Aztec or Druid method? But the Bee-Dubya just give a dismissive wave to his intended victim, and proceeds to the bar, which has enough home-brewed miruvor to make all of Elvenkind behave like a drunken sailor ear-li-in-the-morning.

"That's so sad," pouts Birdie, "He's losing his touch." She attributes it to the John Edward channeling he experienced in Cincinnati. But seeing how he's sucking up the ale, she feels a sense of hope. "He can still put it away, one arm or no. Maybe he'll loosen up as the evening progresses."

But wait...what have we here? Uncorrupted Dr. Pepper? This will never do. Carbonated prune juice-based beverages should never be drunk straight. Stealthfully, Birdie pulls out her concentrated "Eessence of Ent-Draught" and applies a drop to the rim of each unopened Dr. Pepper can. There, that ought to do the trick.

Birdie suddenly slips on an unopened missive under her foot. What's this? Abandoned well-wishes for the Barrow Wight? She holds one up to the light to see if it contains cash.

Suddenly, a red cap with a jaunty feather appears out of the crowd. "Chile o' the 7th Age!" beams Birdie. Good to see ya in the rotting flesh, at last!"

But C.7.A is not to be chummed out of her appointed rounds. "If you want to claim those missives, Birdland, that will be twelve-hundred-and-thirty-two silver pennies for delivery...in cash."

"Oh...uh...Sayyyy...Why do you think Frodo just wimped out like that at the last minute, Chile'?", blurts Birdie, desperately.

"Wimped out???!!!" screams C.7.A. "I really don't understand why people can't appreciate the ramifications of the Ring's total Gehirnwäschen effect on the bearer..."

Birdie backs away slowly, as C.7.A. give one of her incredible dissertation on arcane Tolkieana, complete with the twenty-seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each
one was.

"Whew!, that was close," thinks Birdie, feeling a bit peckish, by now. But the mushroom plates have been wiped clean, and she gives the Evil Eye to Kuruharan, the Middle-Earth version of a Fungi Hoover. The vegan cheesecake has been reduced to crumbs.

She waves irritably at a Neekerbreeker hovering over the buffet table, (even though Birdie is a Neekerbreeker herself, she appreciates how annoying her own kind can be), when suddenly she realizes that the diminutive pest is none other than Maril-Etc.-Etc.-Etc. "Hey, Maril! Love the new look!"

"Really?" says Maril. "You don't think these wings make me look fat?"

Birdie assures her that she is ahead of the trend. and starts to ask her if she ever ran into Gilgore after the last party, when suddenly C.7.A screams that a spider has landed in her plate. "Don't worry. It's protein!" shouts Birdie, still searching for some real food. The Lembas, while tasty, has gotten old fast.

Birdie scans the room, noticing that Stephanos has finally gotten off of his Greek duff and is making a move on the lovely Estelyn, (or is he just interested in snagging that mithral tiara?) Sindacuion is loading up at the buffet table, muttering about "munchies". Piosenniel is humming "All Around My Hat", while sitting Below the Salt.

A group of hobbits calling themselves "The Shire-elles" are doing a little number dedicated to the Bee-Dubya's fan fictions; called "Leader of the Hacks". Aosama is doing a traditional Rohirrim folk-dance, which looks suspiciously like The Stroll. Twinkle and Maril are having a diminutive dog-fight in the center of the room, egged on by a band of dwarves screaming "Top Gun!"

Well, Birdie seems to have caught up on the action, and wonders what in Middle-Earth could happen next?

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

"twinkie! I'm coming at your left, diagonal cut - Defend! Ha! Moulinette - that's the windmill circles I told you about - yes! defend your left, left foot back and braced... well, I guess that doesn't work in mid-air. Coming at you from the top! *ting*"

[img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

A bit late, but better late then never, steps Veritas into the room and looks around.

It gives her a look like the most people left, but it's still crowdy. She walks further and looks if she doesn't see any known persons. Then she walks over to the bar and asks for a drink.

Child of the 7th Age awakens underneath the buffet table, yawns, stretches, then hiccups. She can't quite remember how she got there and, on reflection, decides that it's probably better not to probe too deeply. Her pony has gotten loose and is running around the pavilion eating every apple in sight.

The crowds have thinned out considerably. She peers left, then right, then left again. It seems all weird looking creatures who are more than two feet taller than her have left or are shirking in the corners doing strange things. Ah, ha, time for Child to take her leave.

But wait, there's that dratted Birdie. Hey, Birdland, you still owe me twelve hundred and thirty two silver pennies for all that mail. I am holding you personally responsible for this mailbag mess. Look at this place--letters strewn all over!!! You have a very disrespectful attitude towards authority, and I am quite sure you put the young hobbits up to posting their mail without adequate Shire postage.

Child grins sheepishly, looks sideways at Birdland and then lowers her voice. Of course, I might be able to find another way for you to redeem yourself from this unfortunate situation. I just happen to have in my possession a copy of my newly published 2,000-page magnum opus entitled Frodo Baggins: Hero or Chump? This seminal creation explores many aspects of blah, blah, blah, blah, and blah!! This lovely volume weighs 10 stone, but costs a mere 50 silver pennies....quite a bargain.....now come over here and we can discuss........

'Give the late one a large glass of wine - on me!' says piosenniel to the bartender, motioning her over with a wave of her grey cape.

'Wine?! How do you know I want wine', says Veritas.

'It stands to reason that would be your natural choice.'

'& how in the seven h3lls would you know that, elf?!' queries Veritas.

'Everyone knows that!' she replies, winking and saluting the astounded creature with her own wineglass - 'In vino veritas!'

'Must go to bed now, the hour is late. Stir up the party while I'm gone. I'll see you tomorrow, or rather later today!'

(OOC- People, am I the only one who thinks it is boring to read so many descriptions of people reaching various stages of inebriation? "Waste of a good party"! I'd rather mingle, talk and get to know all you lovely wights!)

Dragging her tired elf body out the door, piosenniel spies Cot7A starting on a scholarly journey encompassing the zenith and nadir of the moral confabulations of one frodo baggins, a rather spurious chap from the Shire. Caught in the swirl of reason and logic is birdie, with a smile pasted on her face and the definite look of a deer in the headlights.

Making an end run around Cot7A, piosenniel snatches the massive tome and passes it in a perfect spiralling arc to birdie, who catches it but is still slow to shake off the verbal trance.

piosenniel trips and fall headlong into one of the Barrow Wight's hidden access tunnels. Her fingers clutching the rim of the tunnel, she pulls herself up just enough to shout at birdie: 'Fly, you fool!' Then gravity and the long, slow fall into oblivion claim her.

::cue the sad music and the distraught friends:: (oh, wait you sleepy dunderhead, you're confusing the movie script with 'reality' again)

A cloaked figure driving two wagons apears over a ridge. The wagons pull up onto the field and the figure takes off the cloak and hood.
It's Rose Cotton. She stands up and waits for aplause but realizes no one has noticed her.
So she uncovers both wagons. In the first one are her pies. Along with a number of other foods. This she piles on top of everything else on the buffet table.
The second wagon holds gifts and party favors for everyone.

She picks up a jewled necklace and making sure Frodo wasn't looking (she had taken the necklace from him awile ago) she walked without fear to the BarrowWright.

"Congratulations" she shouts at him and hands him the necklace. She wonders why he is so suprised that she is not frightened of him.

Being very thirsty Rose Cotton heads for the drinks. She hasn't herd about the Rootbeer problems and unknowingly takes some that has been tampered with.

Suddenly she sees Legolas run by followed by fangirls. She just shrugs and continues sipping her Rootbeer.

After looking arownd a bit Rose is disapointed to see the party has died down a bit. But what a good time to say somthing to the crowd. After another sip of rootbeer she climbs onto a table.


My Dear Tolkinites and of course BarrowWright!
Just this last fall I happend upon three books called The Lord of the Rings. They were wonderful. But I had no one to talk to about them.
Until one new years eave I came to this site and joined the forums.
I have had some of my best times here and I want to thank everyone who has been kind enough to talk with me and help me when I had a question.
I have tried other Tolkien forums but this is by far the best.

Rose holds up her rootbeer and suddenly says

"wow! Look at all the colors!" she falls off the table onto some hobbits.

She takes a frightend look at the rootbeer and throws it hitting someone. Uh-oh.

After basking in the glow of her triumphant encounter with the Barrow-Wight, Estelyn was unruffled by the appearance of Oliphaunts; nay, even orcs could not daunt her. But what was that?? Terror struck her heart as she glimpsed the one creature she had been taught to fear from her very childhood, every princess' most dangerous enemy - a dragon!

For the briefest moment, she considered finding a corner to cower in, then bravely decided to face her fate head-on. And lo - the dragon was leashed, and the leash was held by a sturdy, dependable-looking dwarf! "Oh, it must be Kuruharan with his pet Chrysophylax!" She breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to greet them.

"I am both enchanted and honored to thus meet the revered author of the First Amendment to my Primary Signature Quote! Please allow me to bestow upon thee this token of my eternal gratitude, in hopes that it will be an immortal reminder of thine accomplishment." In speaking, she proferred him a brooch that appeared to be a decorative medal. It depicted, appropriately enough, a golden dragon with jeweled eyes upon a mithril background of mountains. Estelyn knew that the Wight had retreated to his barrow - she would have to ask permission later for the "borrowed" jewelry...

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Estelyn Telcontar ]

"Ai! Ai! A Magnum Opus!" screams Birdie, as 10-stones worth of Frodo Baggins: Hero or Chump descends upon her and knocks her flat to the floor.

Piosenniel is doing an end zone dance when suddenly an access tunnel opens under her feet and she hurls headlong down the hatch. "Fly, you fools!" he cried, and was gone.

"Piosenniellllll! Nooooooo!" screams Birdie, doing her best Elijah Woods' imitation as she reaches down the hole. "Damn those random event generators! Damn them!...ooooooooh! Pie!". Birdie and C.7.A. retire to the buffet table to beat the rush, figuring that Piosenniel will probably resurrect later; a little bleached out, but none the worse for wear.

A group of industrious hobbits drag off the 2000-page life's work, in order to stand on it to reach the bar.

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

"What?! When?! Where?! Who?!"
Sindacuion shouts as someone is shaking him. "Oh, must've fell asleep. What's been going on?" Sind looks around, noticing many sleeping (passed out, even?) Hobbits. He thanks Estelyn for waking him up and heads for the buffet. "Shall I get you a drink, my princess? My mouth is too dry and I think I swallowed a fly." He heads for the buffet table and fills two glasses with wine. As he has done so, he heads back to Estelyn. As he approaches, he notices that Estelyn is missing. "Where on earth did that princess go? I was going to ask her for a stroll!"

You people are great at this -
"Why aren't most of you in the story based RPGs?"

arrrrrrrrggggghhhhhhh...@$#%!^*(*@#!

Suddenly Cimmerian and his infamous RPG (Roleplay Press Gangers) troop burst into the room, snatch up some random dancing hobbits, and start dragging them to the door.

"It's off to the RPG Wars with ye, me laddies!" bellows Cimmerian, and he laughs evilly.

"No! We don't wanna goooo!" wail the hapless halflings.

"Nonsense!" states Cimmerian, "RPG's are good for ye. We'll whip you all into a fighting force of Elven Shield Maidens before ye know it."

The troops march out the door, singing "I Love a Hobbit in a Uniform" as they go.

Huh?...wha happen?...how'd I get back here?...ooooooo...uh-oh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, it's coming, it's coming...ooooo...ugh! here it comes......

JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDD

Oh, WHEW! Feeling soooo much better!

AAAAHHHHH!!!!!! There's a dragon next to me!!!!!!

Oh, right.

What's this? It seems to be a golden dragon with jeweled eyes upon a mithril background of mountains. What's it say on the back? "To Kuruharan from Estelyn Telcontar."

Why thank you Estelyn, that's very sweet of you!! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

[goes to the refreshment table]

Hmm...doesn't seem to be much here. Just a half-eaten bowl of egg-salad, some stale potato chips, and some nibbled-on pieces of goblin gizzard.

Looks like I'll have to find my own breakfast.

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Kuruharan ]

Mithadan smiles as he watches B-W make his farewell speech. The old boy has really matured! One reporter vaporized, one psychologist messily made into two half psychologists, no one abducted or sacrificed...very good! He joins in the chorus of congratulations as B-W "enters" his barrow.

He sets off to the buffet table (or the remains thereof) taking a rough headcount of the number of wheelbarrows needed to transport "indisposed" guests. These Hobbits really do not hold their drink well.

The sound of approaching sirens rouses him from his reverie. He changes hurriedly into a blue power suit (white shirt, red tie, black wingtip shoes...sorry Maril, no cufflinks, French cut sleeves are an annoyance), begins handing out his business cards and reminds all and sundry of their rights under the Fifth and Sixth Amendments. Fortunately, the unwanted attention of the gendarme is deflected deftly by Piosenniel.

A small green dragon flies past (Mith is using the word "flies" metaphorically, the dragon does not have wings) followed by Estelyn. And still, despite the hour, new guests continue to filter in. Estelyn is right. Too much talk of drink and not enough action. Time to liven things up. Reaching behind a bar, Mith switches on the REG (Random Events Generator). Piosenniel promptly disappears into a hole. With a flash, a very confused Smashmouth appears on the stage but, to their credit, they get right into the swing of things and begin playing 'Walking on the Sun'. A pack of Mumak driven by Haradrim appear at the South end of the fields. Two faeries begin a vigorous dogfight. Mith sits on a bench to relax. Ahhhh, that's more like it...

Sindacuion walks around the premises of the festival grounds. "Now where did that Estelyn go?" *poof* Suddenly, a miniatyre Balrog appears. Sind glares at the Balrog, trying to pick a fight with him. "Uh oh.. That's just.. weird. I smell something fishy here.. I sure hope no-one has fiddled with the Random Events Generator. Well, that would propably lighten up the spirit of the festival.." Sind goes back to search for the princess and leaves the little Balrog behind.

Sindacuion climbs up a tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of Estelyn. He sees that Estelyn is chasing a dragon. "That certainly isn't proper for royalty!!" he says, jumps down the tree and runs after Estelyn.

The REG in full flow, Rimbaud soon realised his repose would be short-lived. As he unexpectedly developed a craving for fruitcake, he scanned the crowd anxiously for any sign of sanity. Fortunately, none appeared to be forthcoming. He's aware that his name badge may be bewildering to the other guests, nay even maddening; as English as the hills themselves he is.

He encounters a pleasant conversation arising from the tale of Arien's 'staining' at the hands of Melkor and its potential nature as part of the canon and conjoins with the participants gleefully.

Smashmouth on stage are replaced abruptly with an unexpectedly reformed Smiths and he is tempted to do the Smithsonian and 'get jiggy wit' it' but manages, barely, to restrain the impulse. However the sight of fourteen different people dressed as Gandalf, shaking their 'booty' and crying out, "I don't think you're ready for this jelly!" every so often is too much and he collapses in convulsions of laughter.

OOC - you try linking Smashmouth, The Smiths, Will Smith and Destiny's Child without starting to laugh)

Realising that in a world controlled by the REG anything was possible, he departed his new-found circle of friends and went to the Beatles concert next door.

When she finished her wine, she looks over the field where must people are sleeping. Sindacon sits in a tree, climbes out and runs after Estelyn.

Veritas sighs and says to herself: "In vino veritas, sed non veritas possemus bibere."
Or something like that, the wine touched her brain. She reaches over to the barkeeper for another wine.

An incantation is heard:

Beware! Beware! Her flashing eyes, her floating hair!

...and at the edge of the Fields, a very bedraggled figure struggles up out of the forest, muttering to itself "Oh, screw it, I'll just go now ." It’s Belin Ibaimendi, wild haired and wild eyed, barely able to stand under the weight of the enormous backpack she still wears. Her garb, unfortunately, cannot be described as even remotely "formal" or "Middle-Earth."

"I made it!" she pants. "How late am I? What’s going on? Did anyone miss me? Are there any mushrooms left? ( please please please ) Do I still have a chance of a dance with Stephanos, um, or is that Rimbaud?"

Talking and panting at once, however, is too much for her. Between her breathlessness and the great weight she bears, Belin gets lightheaded for a moment and collapses on the ground, the backpack on top of her. A pair of feet approach (Mithadan’s? Child's? Estelyn's, perhaps? Belin can’t tell; her glasses seem to have fallen off.) She grins upward, undaunted.

"No, fine, I’m fine," she manages to say, attempting unsuccessfully to rise. "Never better but once. Is there anyplace I can change?"

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

Frodo has been taking a nap a short way way from the festivities. "Hi Birdie, Child, I don't know why you think I "wimped out" it was a spider, and frankly, have you ever seen Shelob??" Frodo nods "Didn't think so" he replies. Has anyone seen Sam? [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img] Oh well.
Feels around his neck "My chain!!!! Oh no! And my white jewel!!! oh no! Queen Arewn gave me that jewel! It's gone!! [img]smilies/eek.gif[/img] [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img]

Whoa.
Applauds His Wightiness' speech, even though that was a while ago. Decides to take a break from dancing to rescue hapless halflings from Cimmerian.
"Cimmerian! They must join the RPGs of their own free will!" Aosama releases the hobbits, who are much to inebriated to thank her. Oh well. Dancing break's over!
"Want to dance, Cimm?"

Zifnab has been in a silent stumper since the party began. ‘Why’ you may say. ‘Don’t ask Why, drink Barrow-down dry.’. Actually he is in shocked state of mind that nobody has noticed him (besides his good friend Rim, and that was after a good ‘thwaping&#8217 [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] in his current cloth situation. He has come in his birthday suit…..err…..shirt. Birthday Shirt. He has worn his now already travel stained ‘Barrow-Downs’ T-shirt and decides the time is right for a fast plug. ‘Buy Right, Buy Barrow-Wight’. Zifnab chuckles at his pun and shares it Rimbaud who is currently to busy trying to make amends with the ‘green bottle’.


To be honest, he has been busy doing other wightly stuff, and his attention has not been focused on the goal in hand. He has ignored a few pages….err…dialog, between the party goers, and makes up time by speed reading through must of them. This does not help, since the majority of the BD’ers write such complex and wonderfully delightful posts. He decides it best to slow down and catch up.


He scans the room, seeing mostly recognizable faces and a few that are new to him. He waves to the regulars and newbies (which at this time, they all had to squint and focus on who this character was waving at them). Seeing the regulars and newbies alike all hold their hands to their eyes, he assumes it is a salute and feels very comforted by that act. He moseys on over to the Salon, guns swaying in their hostlers, spurs clanking from the vibration of the hard word floors, hat partially covering his eyes. And says too the bartender, ‘Howdy partner, I’ll take a Roy Rodgers.’ ‘What the heck is that?’ he/she responds, ‘This here ain’t no Cowboy Party, I suggest you pack up and head out West, before the going gets tough.’. ‘Err…..Ya….My thoughts exactly, I’ll just take a Tom Collins.’ mumbles Zifnab has he changes his outfit back into his birthday suit……Shirt! ‘Boy, this shirt is a lot more comfortable to wear. It sure beats that bear-suit.’ he thinks to himself.


On a further note, besides from the above jibber jabber. I would like to add my thanks for the Barrow-wight, and all the Moderators out there. Many of us feel like this is our home away from home. A nice place to get lost in, if I do say so myself. A big congratulation to you all for making this thee best site on the web. And I hope the next two years finds us all in good fortune. Thanks again!

Frodo put his head in his hands "oh dear! Oh dear! What am I going to do???? That chain was priceless. And that jewel was my succor. When it was given me I was told ' when merey of darkness and burden trouble you, this will bring you aid" Now what will I do?????

'Dawn has cracked and so surely has this little world I find myself facing,' thought piosenniel blearily. I had been a tiring night eluding both a balrog and the Barrow Wight in the deep, dark vastnesses of the Downs. One wanted to turn her into a crispy critter, and the other, though apparently sleepwalking, kept muttering feverishly to himself 'Must abduct . . . must slay . . . cold elf on a colder slab of stone . . .we likes it!'

piosenniel shook her head to rid herself of the random images. 'The Wight saying "we likes it"? It must have been a bad dream - but then why are my legs so tired as if I had run for Ages?'

Climbing out of the tunnel did not seem as long a task as falling down it. Peering cautiously over the edge, she spied both Birdie and C7A huddled over a large pot of strong coffee, wearing tie-dyed Barrow Downs t-shirts with the logo : FRODO LIVES! scrawled on them in magic marker. Each 'O' in FRODO having the peace sign penned into it. 'Oh my!' thought piosenniel to herself, 'I've fallen down the rabbit hole and come up in the sixties!'

'Hey!', shout the two remnants of the radical left in unison. 'Ai na vedui . . .mae govannen!'

'Come have a cuppa heartstarter, pio,' offers C7A. 'Yeah, we need a third pair of hands for the guerilla actions we're planning for the party today.' says Birdie. 'And what the heck happened to you last night? The last thing we saw was the ground open up and swallow you right after you channeled Gandalf.' Both looked at her expectantly.

'Some coffee first, ladies, and then we'll hash out my thoughts on the odd events taking place here. I have my theories, and the main one is sitiing close by!' piosenniel glanced meaningfully in the direction of Mithadan, whose hand seemed to caress a silver remote control while his mouth curved into a puckish smile.

'Ooh, I'm thinking the target is in sight for the first prong of our attack.' whispered Birdie.

'Let me just haul out my parchment and quill & we'll draw up a battle plan.' rejoined C7A, digging into the depths of her mailsack.

The object of their covert scrutiny arose from his sitting position, stretched mightily, and surveyed the party site. Need to stretch his legs a bit more, he ambled down the small hill on which he stood and passed by the 3 women slowly sipping their morning brew.

'Ladies!', he said in greeting, with a tug to his forelock.

'Mithadan.' returned the trio in unison.

As he strolled past them, preparing to walk the perimeter of the
field, it seemed as if a chill breeze had sprung up from behind, sending a small frisson of impending doom down his spine.

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

"Again, Kuruharan, of course you didn't spike the Dr.Pepper. But I think I'll drink out of this nice can just to be safe." Elanor grins and takes a sip from her can, but alas! someone has poured a strong liquid into it. As she can't even smell alcohol without getting a bit tipsy, she momentarily blacks out, only to be awakened by the mob of girls chasing Legolas through a pavallion. "Kuruharan! If you're responsible for this..." Elanor begins, but the herd of fangirls stops her short as they burst from the pavillion and run directly toward her. Suddenly she finds herself running for her life next to Legolas. "So, how ya doin'?" she asks the Elf as she sprints.

The turntable drops the next 45 from the stack and Berry McGuire intones "The Eastern world, it is explodin'...("Some things never change", thinks Birdie sadly) and a bearded Beorn wanders by explaining cheerfully "I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in."

Wait a minute! This is The Barrow Downs of Middle Earth! 45s haven't been invented yet. How did we wind up in the future????

OK, Piosenniel, I'm behind you. Ooooooh, but wait until this song's over!" As Birdie starts waltzing with a Dragon to "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

Rosa!!!!!! If you're behind this your in trouble!! Just give me tea I usually don't drink coffee. *muttering alone in a coorner* Pinching my chain! Well she didn't get my circlet anyway. Next time I see that Rosa I will slap her!!
Hey Galalriel!!!! Can I have some of that wine?

Coming sheepishly through the ceiling on a beautiful silver tree, Amanaduial lands sheepishly on the floor- this is becoming a habit. "Hey all...?" She looks at the chaos of the room, with not alot of idea where is or what exactly is happening. Snapping her fingers busily, the elegant elf stands awkwardly, feeling out of place. However, as a full scale dragon waltz appears to be starting, Amanaduial is soon swept up by a dashing silver dragon, its lovely scales complimenting her swirling silver and blue robe as they whirl around together.

Daisy, slowly opening her eyes, suddenly realizes that she had dozed off to sleep and that it is now quite late in the evening and, that for some reason, she has a throbbing headache. Slowly getting up, she also notices that her mug of ale has disappeared from its in the grass next to her, "how rude!" She exclaims, "just taking my ale like that…. Inconsiderate, greedy, little…" she grumbles on.

Sensing that she missed quite a bit of the action, Daisy wanders about, looking for a familiar face to talk to and chat with. "My, my! What has happened here…." She says, with a rather perplexed look on her face, "this is no joyful Hobbit party that I have stumbled on to, this seems as though a pack of drunken dragons had a duel with one another" she mumbles to herself. Looking at, and stepping over, all the debry strewn about the grounds and passed out creatures lying in very odd positions on the ground with wine and other liquor bottles propped up around them, she picks up a nearby half filled mug of ale sitting next to a quietly passed out, what seems to be, form of a Hobbit.

Daisy continues her search for some explanation of what exactly happened here, stopping occasionally to tend to her now painful headache. Wandering around a bit, Daisy begins to realize that this state of mess wasn't new when she got up, that all this had been here when she first came. Daisy hadn't realized that she hadn't remembered any of it, because at the time she was so exhausted. Then, at that very moment, something popped into Daisy's head.

She wasn't exhausted until after she had got that mug of ale that was gone when she woke up. "The funny thing is, I don't remember anything after that…. though…. Wait… I do remember doing something up on top of a table somewhere… oh; this can't be good…"Daisy mumbles to herself, stepping over a passed out Dwarf. Then something hits her "Wait a minute…. The ale wasn't… no, silly me, no one would do that to ale… would they?" She groans, "Oh, you foolish Hobbit you, what did Mother say to you? 'Don't ever attend a party thrown for a Barrow, You'll never know what might happen to you.'" Daisy looks down at her mug of ale that she had swiped off of some unconscious Hobbit a while back, and pours it out onto the ground. "Oh, what have I gotten myself into…." She mumbles one last time, quietly to herself.

"My my, Daisy. What has happened to you?" As Daisy mumbles something about a headache, Sind passes her an aspirin, err.. athelas, in a form of a pill. "Here. That should help you a bit." After something that sounded like fanks, Sindacuion heads for the buffet table for some breakfast. "Oh my, what happened when I was asleep?!" He was very happy, for he had packed lembas for himself. "Somehow I knew that this would come in handy.." After munching on some lembas, he goes in search for a friend to talk to. "Well, Daisy is out of the question, I see. I quess I'll keep on looking. I wonder if that Estelyn is still chasing that dragon?" He takes a sip of wine (some was left from last night, somehow) he walks to the garden and climbs up his regular tree. "I guess I'll stay here and mope then.."

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Sindacuion ]

AFTER SHE GOT HER SENCE BACK AND SWORE TO HERSELF SHE WOULD NEVER DRINK ROOTBEER AGAIN ROSE COTTON TRIES TO FIND SOMTHING TO DO.

ROSE STAYS A GOOD WAY FROM FRODO BAGGINS AND EYES HIM NERVOUSLY. SHE DOSN'T KNOW IF HE'S RELIZED THAT IT WAS HER THAT TOOK HIS JEWLED NECKLACE.

BUT ROSE IS GETTING A LITTLE DISAPOINTED.

NO ONE SEEMS TO NOTICE SHE'S THERE.

SO SHE DECIDES TO SIT DOWN NEXT TO A TREE AND WATCH EVERYONE DEALING IN THERE OWN MATTERS.

Elanor notices Rose looking lonely by the tree. "Hi!" she shouts, running to meet her, forgetting that she and Legolas are being persued by about 247 screaming fangirls. Rose's eyes widen and she starts to run. "Hey, Rose, what are you running away for? I just wanted to say hi!" Rose motions toward the girls. "Ohhhh..." says Elanor, suddenly remebering why she is running.

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: ElanorGamgee ]

Lying limply among the empty -oh good fringant pony/ green dragon barrels of ale, Stone of vision, stuffed like an amphora, is snoring; careless of the rush in the outside world.
Until the end, our good fellow slept in deep content, if stones are content.
(mmmh sounds like Samwise....oh bother, let's go back to the sleeping thing *yawn*zzzz...)<----- only moment of rare consciouness of the subject.
(zzzz Happy zzzz birth zzzz day zzzz Barrow zzz Down zzzzz)<---- moment of semi -consciousness, my dear fellow members, a very interesting case of festive induced narcolepsy. Incurable! héhéhé [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

Child shakes her curly head in amazement and inches over towards Piosenniel. She sets her mailbag on the floor as second and third doubts begin to assail her about the wisdom of drafting a battle plan against his highness, Lord Mithadan, who is far above her in both stature and rank.

Piosenniel, er, er..... "Guerilla actions?"...."First prong of an attack?"

Child hastily scrawls a note to Piosennil, slips it into her lap and beats a hasty retreat to a distant corner of the pavillion. This note reads:

Dear Elf Friend,

Now, I will not deny that in my distant past, in the true days of "Frodo Lives," I did some rather strange things which involved being chained up to administative buildings as well as protest marches and similar activities which had best remain unsaid and which, I am certain, Professor Tolkien would not approve of!!

However, I am now a semi-respectable dweller in the Barrow-downs who, by great zeal and hogging the family computer, finally managed to make it up to "wight". I even have aspirations to go beyond that lowly status. And it is my clear understanding that those who attempted revolutionary measures in the past were unceremoniously dumped down to the rank of "newly deceased", a fate I would prefer not to share.

Moreover you, as an exalted Elf, are better equipped to lead such a movement. I am at best a poor, humble hobbit who may already be in trouble for posting scurrilous and long-winded threads. So, it is undoubtedly best that you go forward in this half-baked effort on your own, or perhaps with the assistance of Birdland, who has been known to act as ringleader in many less than reputable circles. Or perhaps you could get one of the Tooks to assist you as they also have a reputation for strangeness!

Your more respectable hobbit friend

Mithadan decides to head over to the Beatles concert and join Stephanos. He checks his silver beeper for messages, then heads toward the edge of the fields. In doing so, he passes Child of the Seventh Age, Piosennial and Birdland. They are looking at him oddly. "Ladies," he said as he passed. "Mithadan," they replied in unison. As he walked on, it felt as if a chill breeze had sprung up from behind, sending a small frisson of impending doom down his spine. He shuddered.

Galadriel awakes and looks around. She has no idea what is going on, since she didn't bother reading the last page and a half. She shrugs, grabs a bottle of wine from some pocket on her dress, and begins spinning again...

Niere crawls out from under the table where she was hiding from Cimm and his RPG minions. She slowly walks back to her book, stopping for a moment to finish off the cheesecake.

She suddenly notices Galadriel's somewhat unhealthy state. Jumping up, she catches the gyrating elf and leads her over the the coffee. "Calm down hun, let's see if we can put you to rights!" As she goes, she descreetly pitches the bottle of wine in the nearest trashcan.

[ May 21, 2002: Message edited by: Niere-Teleliniel ]