* The whirlpool of convergent time which had lapped at the edges of the wizard's mind while he'd walked up the trail to the glade had developed into a full-blown maelstrom once he actually stepped into the glade itself. It was quite a challenge to keep track of all that was happening, or might have. He got the sense that some picnic guests were attending the picnic during one year, while others attended during another year ... yet here was everyone all together at once. Years collided soundlessly, without most of the guests even being aware. *
* Gandalf remembered suggesting to Lassiël that for a firsthand account of the Old Forest's history, Bethberry was by far the most suitable one present for the telling of it. Goldberry too was steeped in the local lore. And none, not even our poet, could beat Tom for being "well-versed" in the ways of wood, water and hill. *
* A Hobbit named ... Cambi, or Cama, or Gamba, or Gimbi ... had approached, speaking as if he knew Gandalf well. Gandalf could not for the life of him remember who this Hobbit was, but for the present had played along and just went with the ebb and flow of the stray time-convergence current. There'd also been another Hobbit, Rowan, with whom he'd exchanged greetings. Gandalf looked forward to getting to know both of these Hobbits better as the party progressed. *
* Gandalf had fed chicken to the fox and fixed himself a plate of chicken, bread and butter, taters, mushrooms, green beans, and cheese. With the wizard's back turned, the black steed Midnight had helped himself to a picnic supper, sticking his nose full into a bowl of carrots and then a serving bowl of salad meant to serve several dozen people. A pail of water set aside to be brewed into tea served the horse as a convenient source of drink. *
* Gandalf had remembered laughingly ducking pies with Bethberry. Once grey robes had taken on the decided hues of cherry and lemon. Meanwhile, lemon and blueberry blended in quite nicely with Bethberry's dress of yellow and cloak of blue. *
* Arcon, a good friend who was always a welcome sight, was just now arriving. *
* Menelduliniel approached, and Gandalf told her he hoped she and Estelarion would provide musical entertainment after the feast. As to her questioning, Gandalf could understand her curiosity, because the original plan was to travel South from Sarn Ford to Tharbad. Now he simply answered that he was bound for Rivendell. He'd veered off the path towards Castle Maladil for the present, even though putting off the journey to Tharbad meant he'd have to backtrack. *
* Gandalf thought he'd seen and heard a poem recited by a wandering minstrel who kept losing or dropping his papers, but on looking around, the poet was nowhere to be found. Must be another instance of convergent time playing tricks on his mind, and the poet had been a shimmering mirage all along. *
[ September 24, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]
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