The Longer Expected Party

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry climbed down as decorously as she could from one of the top branches of the mallorn tree. She had been watching for party arrivals to let Galadriel55 know who was coming, but the as the party grew it became obvious her help was no longer needed. Besides, there were cakes aplenty down there and none atop the tree. And she was thirsty.

As she climbed down she counted how old eleventy-one was. Yes, there were just about enough branches on the mallorn for every year Nerwen was celebrating. It was a long climb down, but having finally reached terra firma, she was more than ready for cake and something to wet her parched throat.

"Nerwen," she said, "do you have any idea how long it takes to count to eleventy-one? Why, a hobbit could well die of thirst before reaching the final number."

[Nerwen]

Nerwen rose to her feet.

"Bêthberry, if all the barrels of drink here can't ease your thirst, I don't know what will. Have some more! And as for the Suspicious Mutterer of Amon Lanc –I have good ears, Mr Legate– I'll have you know I come of a long-lived family on my mother's side.

Now, I suppose you'll all be wanting a speech?"

"Yes!" cried some of the Downers. "No!" others protested, but Nerwen ignored them.

"My dear Downers... My dear G55s and Legates; and my dear Bêthberries and Inziladuns, and Lommies, and Nogs, and Sallys, and Rikaes, and Aganzirs, and Miths and Estys, Wilwas, morms, Forms, Morsuls,, Mnemos, Angs, Eomers, Loslotes, Feas, Morthorons, and Hookbills... not to mention my precious one," she blew Shasta a kiss, "...and, last but not least, The Barrow-Wight Himself!" There was clapping at the name, though in truth most were in awe of the shrouded figure who sat with a plate of– could it be mouldering bones?– in front of him.

She stole a glance at the other hooded, glowing-eyed party-goer, wondering if the phantom had noticed that she had purposefully not mentioned his name. "That'll take his ego down a peg or two..." she thought.

"Today is my eleventy-first birthday! I am eleventy-one today– a number perhaps even more dear to us Downers than it is to the internet community at large– where would fangurls be without it?!!!!111!!!

Eleventy-one years is too short a time to spend among such excellent and admirable Downers. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I have repped less than half of you half as often as you deserve..."

[Mithalwen]

DON'T YOU DARE DISAPPEAR!

Mithalwen cried, waving the bottle of Old Winyards she had for safekeeping. Or at least not until I have said something clever and funny. Don't hold your breath...

[Estelyn Telcontar]

I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am, declaimed Estelyn. It had been quite a long time since the last Downs party, and she was determined to enjoy this one, especially as she hadn't had to plan or host it.

She had brought a group of skwerlz with her, all provided with trumpets and horns, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments - small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. They began to play a merry tune, encouraging the guests to dance.

[Aganzir]

Aganzir showed up fashionably late in her trademark loose black clothes and boots. She presented Nerwen with a loaf of home-made bread fresh from the oven.

"If you don't like it, feed it to the squirrels or something. And I'll make you something else for the next party," she said.

Then she wandered off in search of free food and drink, which is the only reason she ever goes anywhere. Especially parties.

Later, she was seen trying to drag Esty and B-berry to the dance floor.

[Morthoron]

*a small furry-tailed rodent defecates on the Dark Elf's boot*

Damn skwerlz.

Ummm...happy birthday, Nerwen. It's nice to know there are people still around that are older than me.

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Morthoron

Ummm...happy birthday, Nerwen. It's nice to know there are people still around that are older than me.

Incalculably easier on the eyes, as well.