2004 Barrow-Downs’ Birthday Celebration!

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordim Hedgethistle arrived late for the Party – but then, it had been a long time since he had been above ground in the light of the sun and it had taken him a while to get used to it again. The land had changed too since he had last seen it, but he had stumbled across a couple of helpful trolls and they had been more than happy – or, well, at least willing – to tell him all that he needed to know. He had flown (or had he?) as quickly as he could across the long leagues from the Misty Mountains to the Shire in order to make it here in time to pay tribute to the Barrow Wight.

The Party Tree was decorated and all about the field there were tables laden with food and drink. Fordim looked about for anyone he knew, but his eyes had still not fully adjusted to the light. He did notice a few odd characters about who looked vaguely familiar but most who saw him immediately looked away. Two figures did stand out almost immediately. As soon as he saw them Fordim swirled away, cloaking himself once more in darkness, for he did not relish the idea of having to face either Fingon or Olorin. He’d never really liked either of those characters, particularly Olorin. “Ridiculous fellow” Fordim muttered to himself, belching black smoke as he did so, “Always insisting that we sing along with the chorus instead of making up a little ditty of our own…” He snorted and a trickle of flame that he had not intended scorched a nearby bush. One of the small folk shook a tiny fist at him and told him to read the Party Rules, pointing at a sheet of paper tacked to the tree.

Fordim read the notice and was happy to see that he met most of the criteria. The last two, however, gave him a moment’s pause:

“6.) No violence, swearing, or sexual innuendoes in the Party thread.”

The injunction against violence would be a hard one to obey, but he could probably manage it for a day. As to sexual innuendoes…he chuckled slightly, and as he did so the sky grew dark and the ground shook, once more drawing some disapproving looks. Well, he could behave.

“7.) You may bend the canon somewhat, just try not to shatter it into pieces.”

This one caused some real worry, but as luck would have it (if luck it was) at that moment a green-eyed, red-haired Elf walked by. Fordim relaxed immediately.

He moved through the crowd with ease, for those who looked upon him gave way immediately, the Elves crying “Ai” with despair, while the Men and Dwarves glared with open dislike and fear. There was another race there, much smaller than Men but like them. For the most part, they merely looked at him with open shock, not knowing what to make of him. Fordim had only been out of his deep place in the earth for a few days, but he had already become used to this from the folk he met, and he merely shrugged the vast shadows that spread from him like wings and moved on.

He quickly reached a dark hole in the ground in front of which there were piled a number of brightly wrapped presents. He removed a small package from somewhere about his form and placed it on the pile. He hoped that the Wight would like it, for it was especially dear to him: the shrunken head of the very first Elf he had slain at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. He quickly moved away from the hole, looking for someone with whom to talk – for he had a problem, and he had finally decided that he needed help with it. For an Age he had lain in his dark place in the earth, brooding on the problem but to no avail. But of late, rumour had come to him of a place where problems such as his were considered challenges that people welcomed. It was a place where answers could be sought to supposedly insoluble questions. He saw a person clad head to toe in pans and pots who looked as though he could help him, but as Fordim approached the man disappeared in a clatter and a clank.

Fordim frowned and looked about once more. Off in one corner of the field he saw two figures who looked even more familiar than those he had seen earlier. One of them was a woman, clad simply and with her hair pulled up atop her head. The other was an oddly dressed Orc. “Roa!” he bellowed, nearly setting the Party Tree alight, “Kransha, you old rogue!” he roared. With a burst of flame and smoke he rushed (or did he fly?) across the field to them, waving his flaming sword above his head in one hand and cracking his whip with the other for the pure joy of seeing his friends. As soon as they were within earshot, he bellowed out, for he could not contain his question any longer: “DO EITHER OF YOU KNOW IF BALROGS HAVE WINGS?”

[ElberethVarda]

As Elbereth stood uncertainly at the entrance, she heard her name being called. "Elbereth! Elbereth Varda!" it called. She looked around confusedly. Then she saw Eowyn Skywalker's familiar face. "Eoywn!" she cried and threw her arms around her friend. Eowyn laughed and hugged her back. "I'm so glad you found me! What do I do first?" she questioned anxiously, pushing her hair out of her face. Eowyn directed her towards the gift table and explained what to do. "I'll see you later," Eowyn said, and ran off to talk to another friend.

Elbereth made her way through the crowd to the table. It was already covered with presents of all shapes and sizes. Elbereth rumaged around in her basket for her gift. It has to be here somewhere... she thought. Finally, she pulled it out. I know it's the perfect gift, she thought proudly. She laid it on the table and looked admiringly at the three foot long sqeaky hammer, autographed by none other than Agent Lofty himself. It was a necessary tool for every forum owner, not to mention very rare.

Elbereth fought her way over to the table of food, and carefully set down her plate of delicate cookies, shaped like small One Rings. It had taken her hours to make them, and she was very proud of them. She looked up from the plate and looked around for her friends.

There was Keld! And right next to her was Firi, waving her arms in the air like a crazy person, which, of course, she was. It looked like the whole group was there already! Elbereth waved crazily back and ran over to them.

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Dig faster!" Daisy commanded. "If we get caught with these things, they'll be trouble to pay!"

"I'm digging as fast as I can! Stop complaining and get down here and help me!" Pimpernel threw a wicked look in Daisy's direction. Rory Zaragamba was also beside him clawing at the dirt.

When the guards began combing the crowd and looking for the culprit, Daisy had scampered off to get her older brother Rory to ask his advice. The three Hobbits had put their heads together and considered tossing the presents in a remote corner of the party field. Then they would run off on their own, pretending that they'd had nothing to do with them. But Rory had nixed that idea. "The Wight has a great guard dog who can sniff out anything. I saw him pacing in front of the barrow, growling at passersby to keep everyone away. He'll turn the dog loose. And that will be the end of us. One whiff and our accounts will be as dead as we are."

"So... what should we do?"

"We do what Hobbits always do in bad situations. We dig. We dig a hole and stuff the presents in. Nobody will find them, not even the Green Man's dog."

"But I still don't know what this Gondorian thing is," his sister fumbled at the strange looking device.

"Whatever it is, a little dirt won't hurt it."

The three had quietly retreated to the far end of the field, which was fringed with a number of bushes, making a cozy and private spot to do their dirty deed. For the next thirty minutes, the two lads put their elbows into it and dug a large hole in the ground.

One time, Daisy objected. "Maybe we should just go and tell the truth. We only meant to look at them. We were going to put them back."

"Yeah, but do you think that Green thing will ever believe us?" The three looked at each other and began digging even more ferociously. Finally, Pimpernel stuffed the dragon statuette into the hole, and right next to it the Acme Portable Gondorian Metaserver .