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"Do you think anyone will recognise us?"
The tall, somewhat willowy woman in the orange robes of a Buddist had scanned the neighourhood, marking young humans in mythological and Middle-earth costumes and catching sight of some shod, short souls who she knew would receive a scathing lecture from the Hobbiton Garden Club--the very thought of hobbits succumbing to the fetish of leather over their feet!
'Blunderbusses and horseflies, I can only hope," replied a very hirsuite fellow clad in armour from head to foot, but armour which couldn't possibly hide all his long, growing, glowing, beautiful hair. It was a luxury he allowed himself now that he was no longer in the army. "Hello, sweet lady!" he immediately beamed to a very distraught looking woman, her skirts flying about her, but before she could reply his eye caught site of a very fetching woman clad in black, stubbing out a cigarette, the whiff of which sent him off on fantasies--of trade. He stepped forward to speak to her, wondering which quotation from The Silm or UT would put him in the best light as a substantiated former of Tolkien opinion.
"Bruce, get your mind get your mind out of Books. This is a Mirth night, an RPG night, not a scholarly night." He glared glumly at the woman, who had a reputation as one who took Books a bit too lightly. "Maril," he began, but was quickly interrupted.
"Look at what those rugrats are doing to that cat. And that bird! Honestly, you'd think everyone here has succumbed to that wretched view of wildlife which Tolkien promulgated."
'Now, Birdie, wait and see what happens. We're not here to interrupt the Guising for All Barrows Eve. We're here to haunt the Downs."
"Haunt, schmaunt," replied the woman addressed as Birdie, whose name really was Birdland, "I'm here to pretend we're the Lollygag Guild. I hear some people are whining that the Downs has become too sedate. I'll show them sedate."
The three wights wafted down the street, walking into and through garbage cans and walls, trick r treaters and lamp poles, as was the wont of wights of eld. It had been a long time since any of the three had made an appearance on the Downs but none of them was the sort to make any bones about silly nonsense that only one poster could lay claim to brilliance and genius on the Downs.
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