[Bêthberry]

Our narrator continues his efforts:

Most assuredly most did seek faster routes. They were arriving at the Glade and beginning to mingle far in advance of the mysterious host or hostess (although that elf Elendur in that vat could be mistaken for the enigmatic host, if taste in haberdashery meant anything).

They also arrived far in advance of that most merciful of ice-breakers, the opening of the kegs. Now that was an installation (instillation?)devoutly desired. Why that woman chose to present herself attired in spider web and dried leaves is anyone's guess. Perhaps some kind of family ritual or style.

I suppose this picnic began as many such events do, although this particular Hot Earth Society did display a remarkable sense of wit and purpose. There was a fair bit of aimless movement to and fro, here and there, as more and more of the guests approached the Glade and sought positions advantageous to their interests, like seeking like in many cases or their very opposites for those with a taste for more daring company. Some weren't quite sure who they should chat up. Where was Gandalf when he was needed? This is an expected party after all.

Certainly that gracious elf Kueronez deserved better treatment at the hands of that Wraith, but, after all, what can one expect of the Nazgul? He certainly was making a scene of himself and provided quite the entertainment for hobbit young. Now, often the innocence of youth can produce bad manners, but so far this Blister and Cami and the quiet one with the beribboned hair whose eyes and wit take in much had behaved not outrageously. So too that human Pearl. Still, they were being heard rather than seen. Yes, hobbit young are more forward these days. Just look at how that Pervinca Took upbraided the Mysterious Green Lady. She floateth lovely as a cloud. Hmm. Perhaps I shall pass that on to the poet.

Speaking of poets, I wonder if 'tis true what is said of him, that he discards wantonly pages of verse and paper. Does he think whence comes those pages? The Forest shall gain its recompense. He shall be made to recite thrice over, I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree. Although such doggerel mayhap offend the taste of the goodly Dame who rescues hobbits. Sadly, it might send her running, in directions away from the Picnic, not a happy state of affairs for those who would know more of her.

Obviously these are new age elves come to the Picnic. They have left the dour ones home moping. Good for them. But as for dignity, I should say this Meneldulineil and Estelarion, this Elenachliet, this Cuthalion and one Elenna-of-the-Homework-Blues, well, perhaps dignity is not compatible with this enthusiasm and joie du vivre which they display. So be it.

And ah what wonders come forth from the equinox sun. A veritable Aesop's Fables. The dog Feaer that talks. A talking wall--a brick wall? More cats than Madeleine had beds. And ent that old oak wonderful. With all respect, he is a pure feat of imagination, a marvellous creation. Let him give Old Man Willow a run for the money. And the Fox, cleverly sniffing out the action. Some grapes, shrewd Reynard?

And this source, this Sir Pellandor, this always-deferred referent. Capital fellow. He shall prove the challenge when those Hollywood writers are forced to deal with this Picnic. Unless they look to real talent and hire me. Or Underhill.

And would that many in Eriador had the good manners of the ancient easterling Ransom, a credit to his tribe. He deserves the commendations of the lady in yellow and blue, if ever she ceases that prattle with the Wight.

And what pray tell are These eyes in the woods? Sounds quite too suspiciously like a maudlin Canadian rock group. They bear watching. Or dragging out.

And for Eru's sake where did that pompous bit of hot air come from--the one who assaulted the Wraith--assaulted a wraith, no less. Who let her into the party? Mean-spirited party pooper.

The numbers swell. Events proceed apace.

[ September 21, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]