The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - **Birthday Party in the Barrow** (May, 2005)

Bêthberry · 05-01-2005, 06:30 PM

The sky was darkening, although none in the barrow party were in any state to observe the passing into the west of the substitute light of the sun. Few at first noticed a small brown bird winging its way to the barrow.

Wyrd it was, the faithful falcon of Bethberry, who was herself enmeshed in proceedings somewhat similar to those here, an annual rite of celebration for the passing of a year. Parties, as we all know, belong to the realm of fairie, where sometimes our heart's desire can be met and sometimes spurned and more often simply given some sort of shrift, either short or long, depending upon the particular nature of the inhabitants, be they fair or foul, incarnate or symbolic. So, there was Bethberry trapped in story, betwixt this real world of which the invitation spoke, and this ether world of barrow down. Who is to say which spoke of fictional treasure and which spoke of truth? It would take a davem to know, a Lalwende to acknowledge, and a Fordim to pronounce upon, even leading aside for consideration such possibilities as a littlemanpoet could rhyme upon, or a Kuruharan to barter, or a Lush to drink to, or a Squatter to fulminate upon, or a Rimbaud to pun with, or an Aman to plead with, or an Heren Istarion to dig up, or a Thenamir to theologise about, or a Mark to speak in tongues about. Hesty could always play as the vessal righted itself! Perhaps a Son of Numenor could write an ode to pineapple which would put the right spin on things. Well, there were many other ways to characterise Bethberry's cauldron of story, at least as many as there are Barrow Downers. Whether that is one or many, of course, the discussion about the trinitarian aspects of Eru had not yet decided, to say nothing about what Eomer wore under his kilts or Boromir blew upon, or how many pots went into making a SaucepanMan, or how many breakfasts would fill up Pimpiowyn or how many children would be the right number for a hobbit. Well, two hobbits, that is.

But this is to digress, in a manner most unfortunate for parties. But that is the nature of Bethberries, who seem to take most unfortunately a serious line to the interpretation thereof. Seriouser and seriouser!

To return to the party: Wyrd, his head low, wings outspread at a degree that would make a balrog envious whether he had any or not, flew in and out amonst and between the various party members, some of whom he recognised as denizens of Rohan, his mistress's current home in Middle-earth. At last he spied the table resplendent with gifts and the other laden with food.

Two baskets Wyrd held in his beak, and tired indeed he was. The first basket he let fall upon the gift table, where it was meant for the Barrow Wight. In it lay a letter--no, not one of Tolkien's letters for gaming, nor one of those foreign ones, but a real honest to goodness communication, with a map outlining a quest for the Wight on his journey west, and more particularly, outlining the way back, to ensure that no matter how interested he became in his next adventures, he would always be able to find his journey back to the barrow wence his fame first spread and where he still had many faithful admirers.

The second basket Wyrd let fall upon the table of delectables and comestibles. It held all manner of sweet confections, berries covered in chocolate, cereals mixed with marshmellows, licorices of many frostings. And a brief note,

"Fellow Downers,

Alas and alak and foresooth and welladay and--here the writing trailed off, as if someone had grabbed the sheet of parchment and insisted she desist and then it continued in a very different vein--

Oh, all right. I'm in a jam here and cannot get away. Have fun without me, as I'm sure you will."

the note was signed,

"Boysenberry and fried chicken our specialties"
Knott's Berry Farm,
Orange County, California"

The note fell under the table where Lalwende had first been hiding but was found the next day by Hesty the Hostess with the Mostest.

"Curiosier and curioser," she opined. "I think our Beth has fallen on adventures in some strange wonderland." Little did she know how much the Jabberwock lurked in the words of Rohan's moderator.

05-01-2005, 06:30 PM	#101
Bêthberry Cryptic Aura Join Date: May 2002 Posts: 6,003	The sky was darkening, although none in the barrow party were in any state to observe the passing into the west of the substitute light of the sun. Few at first noticed a small brown bird winging its way to the barrow. Wyrd it was, the faithful falcon of Bethberry, who was herself enmeshed in proceedings somewhat similar to those here, an annual rite of celebration for the passing of a year. Parties, as we all know, belong to the realm of fairie, where sometimes our heart's desire can be met and sometimes spurned and more often simply given some sort of shrift, either short or long, depending upon the particular nature of the inhabitants, be they fair or foul, incarnate or symbolic. So, there was Bethberry trapped in story, betwixt this real world of which the invitation spoke, and this ether world of barrow down. Who is to say which spoke of fictional treasure and which spoke of truth? It would take a davem to know, a Lalwende to acknowledge, and a Fordim to pronounce upon, even leading aside for consideration such possibilities as a littlemanpoet could rhyme upon, or a Kuruharan to barter, or a Lush to drink to, or a Squatter to fulminate upon, or a Rimbaud to pun with, or an Aman to plead with, or an Heren Istarion to dig up, or a Thenamir to theologise about, or a Mark to speak in tongues about. Hesty could always play as the vessal righted itself! Perhaps a Son of Numenor could write an ode to pineapple which would put the right spin on things. Well, there were many other ways to characterise Bethberry's cauldron of story, at least as many as there are Barrow Downers. Whether that is one or many, of course, the discussion about the trinitarian aspects of Eru had not yet decided, to say nothing about what Eomer wore under his kilts or Boromir blew upon, or how many pots went into making a SaucepanMan, or how many breakfasts would fill up Pimpiowyn or how many children would be the right number for a hobbit. Well, two hobbits, that is. But this is to digress, in a manner most unfortunate for parties. But that is the nature of Bethberries, who seem to take most unfortunately a serious line to the interpretation thereof. Seriouser and seriouser! To return to the party: Wyrd, his head low, wings outspread at a degree that would make a balrog envious whether he had any or not, flew in and out amonst and between the various party members, some of whom he recognised as denizens of Rohan, his mistress's current home in Middle-earth. At last he spied the table resplendent with gifts and the other laden with food. Two baskets Wyrd held in his beak, and tired indeed he was. The first basket he let fall upon the gift table, where it was meant for the Barrow Wight. In it lay a letter--no, not one of Tolkien's letters for gaming, nor one of those foreign ones, but a real honest to goodness communication, with a map outlining a quest for the Wight on his journey west, and more particularly, outlining the way back, to ensure that no matter how interested he became in his next adventures, he would always be able to find his journey back to the barrow wence his fame first spread and where he still had many faithful admirers. The second basket Wyrd let fall upon the table of delectables and comestibles. It held all manner of sweet confections, berries covered in chocolate, cereals mixed with marshmellows, licorices of many frostings. And a brief note, "Fellow Downers, Alas and alak and foresooth and welladay and--here the writing trailed off, as if someone had grabbed the sheet of parchment and insisted she desist and then it continued in a very different vein-- Oh, all right. I'm in a jam here and cannot get away. Have fun without me, as I'm sure you will." the note was signed, "Boysenberry and fried chicken our specialties" Knott's Berry Farm, Orange County, California" The note fell under the table where Lalwende had first been hiding but was found the next day by Hesty the Hostess with the Mostest. "Curiosier and curioser," she opined. "I think our Beth has fallen on adventures in some strange wonderland." Little did she know how much the Jabberwock lurked in the words of Rohan's moderator. Last edited by Bêthberry; 05-01-2005 at 06:46 PM.