[Bêthberry]

Bethberry, resplendent as always with a warm smile and eyes shining full of wicked merriment, waved as she stepped off the really, really red carpet. She waved in a manner least ressembling the patented, pallid Windsor family pattern of pleasant, passive pretence. In short, vivacity, fun, and wit emanated from her person.

On her arm she bore Wyrd, her pet falcon, who she knew from past experience could be counted on to rid her of any untoward advances which she did not want. Some untoward advances, of course, she might possibly consider, but they were not for her to speak of now and she was quite prepared to spend the party happily mingling. All this talk of coming with an escort she found, quite frankly, boring. Where was the fun in that?

Turning towards Mithadan, she smiled in a bland manner which he knew only too well. It meant she was on to him. Then, obtrusively unobtrusively she placed in the pocket of his grey velvet jerkin a handful of receipts, which she then patted quite patronizingly.

It seems there was a bit of a problem, Mith, with the billing from the caterers. The Prancing Vegetarian charged the food to you, but Bucklebury Takeaway for some reason charged me. So did Anduin Seafood Savouries. Don't worry, though. I've talked to them and they are happy to receive payment from you. Also, I'm sure that you and Child will be happy to hear that Urak Beef and Offal has contracted to provide snakpaks for the wargs and orcs.

Mithadan coughed with some embarassment.

Couldn't you have waited until tomorrow? This will ruin my party spirits.

Pshaw!, said Bethberry. Why have the problem hanging over my head?

The roar of the crowd and the popping of one of the kleig lights interrupted the next part of their conversation, which was thus lost forever to the narrative of events of the Third Birthday Party. However, readers perhaps can be counted on to provide their own inimitable version of events.

Bethberry beckoned Piosennial and Child over and quietly informed all of them that a temporary MASH unit was prepared and waiting behind the bar, with medical personnel ready to treat all manner of party mayhem-excluding wack and slash which of course had no place in Gondor--such as any effects from the notoriously incorrect conflict resolution between the Hobbiton Garden Club and this mysterious Dr. Mariletc. Medical attendants were also equipped to handle intoxication, impaired judgment, dehydration, acid indigestion, blisters, gout, and heartburn.

Heartbreak--and here Bethberry looked over at the ever so solicitous Maura--could be handled for a small fee by the counsellors in the Chapel of Moonlight, on the other side of the bar, who were also trained to witness elven vows in whatever form was finally determined by the Lonely Star, er, Lonely Hearts Club for Tolkien purity.

That final bit of party business out of the way, Bethberry then turned to welcome the guests.

[ May 01, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]