2004 Barrow-Downs’ Birthday Celebration!

[piosenniel]

The moment she’d heard the first words ring out over the gate she regretted having given the out-of-work Elf the job of announcing the opening of the celebration. Quenyan! The misbegotten Elf was addressing the good folk waiting patiently at the gate in that musty old language. And to top it off, he’d drug out some old catch-phrase of his, dusted it off once again, and was intoning the words in a very loud and measured way . . .

Utúlie’n aurë! . . .

‘The day has indeed come,’ Pio hissed at Fingon, taking the steps two at a time to the small platform that ran the length of the gate. ‘But it’s the party you’re announcing, not the Nirnaeth Arnoediad!’ In the background she could hear Gothmog and his fellows snickering at the old King. ‘Quiet, you lot!’ she growled at them. ‘Just open the gates when I give the signal.’

Ignoring the irritated flapping of their wings at being addressed so rudely, she pulled out her new timepiece from the watch-pocket of the poppy red vest Cami had made for her, and checked the time.

Two minutes . . . just . . .

The watch had been a recent present from one of her friends in the Shire. ‘Traveled all the way to Canoni City for that,’ he’d told her.

Where in Arda is that? she’d wondered as he’d proudly pushed the myriad buttons for her, showing all the varied interpretations of the time of day one could display on it.

‘Who knew?!’ she’d said, wondering what committee had put together the unwieldy contraption. With a smile on her face, she’d thanked him; then promptly set the dial to read Shire time.

**********************************************

Child's Post

"Daisy Zaragamba! What are you doing?"

Cami glared in the direction of her youngest daughter who had managed to comandeer all her mother's perfume and cosmetic bottles and now had them lined up atop the bar counter in the Dragon's Comon Room.

The young lass turned a pouting face back towards her mother and impatiently stamped her foot, "But, Ima , I just wanted to look pretty. Anyways, it's time for the party. It's time to go."

Cami stared at her daughter aghast. Her young face was covered with enough layers of paint to look like one of the pictures of the entombed dead from the isle of Numenor. "Get that garbage off your face right now, or you're not going to any party!" Running over and snatching up a wet rag that was generally used for cleaning off tables, she stuffed it into Daisy's hands. "I don't know where you get these ideas from! And "Ima"! What kind of a word is that? That's no proper Hobbit word."

"Rory taught me. He says Mister Tolkien knew a lot of different languages. Once he helped translate the Jerusalem Bible. He must know "Ima" so we know it too. And Rory says......"

At this point, her mother interrupted, "That's enough! I don't know any Mister Tolkien, and we're going to be late if you don't hurry."

Cami grumbled to herself under her breath, "And why does she remember only the crazy things her brother teaches her. When he tells her I want her to help with the dishes, she conveniently forgets."

By this time, the three children had lined up at the door and were tugging at their mother's sleeve in their eagerness to depart. Cami went over to inspect her crew, giving a downward yank to Holly's skirt to make certain it wasn't too short. Merimac disliked seeing his daughter in dress that he considered inappropriate, although Holly had a way of sneaking out the back door and rearranging her clothing before she ran off to see her friends'.

Giving Rory a last minute kiss on top of the head, Cami surveyed her young charges one last time and barked out a final order. "Now, everyone, I want you to listen to me. These parties can get a little wild. This isn't just good folk from the Shire, but lots of outsiders with strange ideas and stranger looks. Stay close together and don't go wandering off on your own!" With that Cami turned and marched the Zaragamba brood (formerly the Tooks and Goodchilds) purposely towards the party field. She expected her huband and the older boys to show up later.

[piosenniel]

Standing on the platform, Pio looked back a last time at the Party Field. There on the large, green expanse of it were set about all manner of pavilions, their beribboned banners fluttering prettily in the morning’s breeze. Some held tables groaning with all sorts of savory foods; others held bars with any and all libations and spirits to offer. And even now she could see Amanaduial giving last minute instructions to the sturdy Hobbit who would man the large tent set up by the Green Dragon staff.

Here and there were set small stages – some with jugglers practicing their arts, some with musicians, and some were empty, awaiting the party-goers who might like to sing or recite a poem or two. In one of the corners stood the old wizard, sorting through his fireworks. The trees in the field were festooned with bright silk streamers, and from their branches hung little lanterns waiting for evening’s lighting.

A few bars of Saucy’s new ditty ran through her mind:

. . . Let me take you down,
‘Cos I’m going to the Shire Party Field.
Where Hobbits are real
And gather there to celebrate.
Shire Party Field forever.

Lanterns shine from the Party Tree,
With fireworks bursting high and low.
Samwise tells the tale of Turin
Turambar.
That one I think is rather sad.

Let me take you down,
‘Cos I’m going to the Shire Party Field.
Where Hobbits are real
And gather there to celebrate.
Shire Party Field forever . . .

With any luck, she thought, he’ll grace us with the song in its entirety.

~*~*~*~

The sound of rapid pounding drew her attention back down to the patient crowd gathered before the gates. Two burly Dwarves, hammers in hand, were affixing a large scroll to the wooden fence. ‘Give us some room to finish,’ they grumbled as the curious throng inched forward to read the hasty script:

Rules for the Partygoers

• 1.) Come as yourself (your Barrow Downs' name) but dressed Tolkien appropriate.
  
• 2.) Bring a dish of food for the table or your favorite libation if you wish.
  
• 3.) Nail your birthday greetings/well-wishes to the Party Tree or get up on the stage and recite it/sing it for the folk. Leave a mathom or some shiny bauble on the table by the Wight’s barrow.
  
• 4.) Organize some sort of entertainment if you wish.
  
• 5.) Try to be mostly descriptive in the posts and not too chatty. No chat-speak spellings, please
  
• 6.) No violence, swearing, or sexual innuendos in the Party thread.
  
• 7.) You may bend the canon somewhat, just try not to shatter it into pieces.