**Birthday Party in the Barrow** (May, 2005)

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Esty 'H' had retired to a well-lit corner of the barrow to read a highly exciting chapter of her favourite book. When she was finished and had written down a few thoughts in hopes of getting an interesting discussion started, she came back to the partying crowd. Still under the impression of what she had read, she shivered slightly and looked around the barrow surreptitiously to make sure there were no spiders around.

[wilwarin538]

I said mill!

[Child of the 7th Age]

I shouldn't have come. I knew I shouldn't have come. This just proves it!

Child sat demurely in the corner throwing darts of mental venom back at Imp . Even so, she had to admit that Esty/H and Wilwarin's responses had shown considerable class, certainly more than her own.

Her personal talents did not extend to rhyming poetry. With a push and a shove, she could manage some blank verse where nothing had to match or rhyme, but her best hope for achieving any real recognition lay in her voluminous scholarly treatises that touched upon various obscure minutia in the context of Middle-earth. She had tucked one bulky volume under her right arm and brought it to the party as a present for the Wight. Child wasn't sure if the Wight had any interest in reading 1,373 pages on "The Wingless Balrog, or Why Fordim Hedgethistle is Definitely in the Wrong". However, the book could easily double as a heavyduty paperweight. Perhaps B-W could find another use for the thing, if Balrog reading wasn't his fancy.

Child sat in the corner and vegetated, chastising herself for her inactivity. She should be out circulating and mingling with the other guests, or at least serving the drinks as she had promised Esty/H. Instead, she was having a serious angst attack. Child squirmed in discomfort. Coming in your real personna had definite drawbacks. No character in Tolkien that Child had ever read about had serious attacks of angst. Frodo, it was true, sometimes had little ones, but at least his case had extenuating circumstances. All the other 'good' book characters were generally quite sure of themselves. So where did that leave her? Her RPGs read like Middle-earth soap operas, with half the battles taking place deep inside her character.

For one minute, Child had a horrifying thought: What if she didn't belong in Tolkien's Middle-earth at all? What if she really belonged in Peter Jackson's move? Come to think of it, her RPGs and fanfiction read a lot more like the cinema version than anything Tolkien had set down on paper. Child shuddered uncomfortably and made a mental note to hide her stories from Davem and Lalwende lest they brand her with the tag "movie fan", a fate almost worse than death within the confines of the book forum.

Unwilling to face this grim prospect, Child wrenched her thoughts back to the barrow and went off in search of Esty/H to see if she could help pass out drinks.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Not one to be left out, Hookbill felt he should add some poetry from his homeland into the air. He spent some time devising something suitable, in an upbeat mood, after all, this was a Birthday Party. He stood upon his table and cleared his thought.

Now, once, although his time is long due
There was old man, dressed in blue
he never wandered far from his home
There were many, who would pick a bone,
With him while he still had time
So he'd sit and wait till the weather was fine.

He'd dance about while some made a toast,
to the business of the one who'd boast,
No one would catch the old man in his land
But there are no battlements that are manned

While the old dogs howl with sadness
We know that the willow grows in madness
No one has ever caught him, he's the master
Do you know him? No one is faster.
He'll never be seen down by a mill,
His name is Tom Bomba-

At that moment, Hookbill slipped off the table and landed in a water bucket. There were cheers and laughter as Hookbill staggered to his feet.

"His name is Tom Bamba-" He began, but then collapsed in his seat.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Fea sauntered happily through the door. She looked at her uncandied arms, for the first time in days not seeing some of many good looking guys attached to them. She spun in happy and, really, immature circles, dancing her way into the middle of the room and enjoying all the attention. Remembering the all important name-tag, she ran over to the table, depositing a large and unobtrusive looking bag on the table. Once the phantom gets here, she thought, then the fun will start.

Grabbing up a black gel pen, Fea took a piece of paper that obligingly already said "Hello, my name is:". She paused for a few moments, wondering which of her many nicks she cared to use today. She decided to start with a flowy and somewhat pretty looking "Fea". Following that, one could read a crossed out "Grace", a scribbled out "Professor", a hastily erased "Swans"... I may just tell that story later. she thought with a laugh.

Finally deciding on "Fea", she tossed the scribbled out name tag in the recycling bin and started over, carefully writing in small print at the base of the tag: "It rhymes with play-a, not pea.", pinning the piece of paper onto the left pocket of her beat up dark-washed jeans, miraculously hole-less, as was her custom. Making her way to the snack table, she snatched up some brownies while gracefully depositing some home-made chocochip cookies... The best I've ever had, as so many people informed her.

She ran bouncily, after so many hours sleep, over to LMP. "I'm back!" she cried. "Boston was awesome, if I do say so myself. I swear by Eru that that is the cute guy conglomeration of the world!"

Calming down slightly, she smiled at Esty. "Thanks for the invite. I hope you don't mind my being late... I was out of town all weekend and spent most of today sleeping off my fun. No," Fea looked at some of the others, "not THAT kind of fun. I don't drink. But according to rumors I..." she trailed off, staring angrily at a blank Barrow-wall. Somebody poked her from behind. "What?" she asked confused. Her attention span was notoriously short. "Oh yeah... Well, I'm just going to forget about those idiots and have fun here. At least now I don't have people giving me "five second, ten tops" to glance at paintings by Titian. Those people just have no sense of amazement over..." Fea trailed off, seeing looks of boredom on some faces, confusion on others, and random interest on a few. "Sorry..." she apologized. "I just got home last night. Fabulous trip... hope you don't mind my rambling on too much. Now that I'm here, the party can officially start!" she added with a big wink.

[piosenniel]

Except for tupperware, L'il!' Pio threw out as she entered the barrow. 'Just throw out the 'a' and use a diminutive.'

She grinned at the aspiring poet. She placed the container on one of the tables set up for food and prised out her creation.





'Happy Birthday, Wight!' she called out to the dark corner at the back of the room. Placing her card with its game vouchers on the gift table, she accepted a glass of sparkling wine from H.

Delicious!

Someone handed her a nametag and a marker. She hated those sticky paper things. Always forgot them. They'd go through the wash and dryer and bond with a determined will to some of her best shirts.

In a bold hand, she printed ~*~ P ~*~, and affixed it to her bare calf, just above her new tattoo. 'No need to spill all the beans at once,' she said. 'Keeps 'em guessing.'

[Estelyn Telcontar]

"Tom Bomba-parsley? Sage? Rosemary? Thyme?" Esty/H asked, barely able to speak, since she was doubled over, helplessly laughing over the nonsensical poetry. She loved playing with words herself, and always enjoyed it when others did so.

"Dill!" Hookbill called out triumphantly.

[Lalwendë]

Lalwende hovered near the bowl of custard, remembering how her claims about its magical properties had been discounted. She laughed to herself, thinking how a demonstration might not go amiss, and that urge to create some mischief hadn't gone away. But then she looked at the crowd. There they were, the erudite, the witty and the talented. What good could her display do? She slunk away from the table and helped herself to a large mug of ale.

She was no drinker, her mad thoughts were usually enough to keep her entertained, so the ale soon had an effect and she found herself chuckling at the antics of the wights gathered around the chamber. The flute music made her feel even more merry and she whistled along tunelessly. She loved music, but had no ear for singing, and whistling was as close to singing as she ever dared to get. When Hookbill put the flute away she was disappointed. Maybe she could get him to play some more later.

But then she heard a familiar name and started to chuckle again. A limerick about davem? How he would laugh! She had to tell him.

Edging into a corner, she focused her mind and thought of the words. Soon she was laughing again as davem said what he thought of it. He didn't forget to joke about her obsession with osanwe, as ever. Lalwende was a bit red faced now, not just because of the ale, but because she had been reminded of one of her pet subjects. Could she ever go at least a week without mentioning it? She didn;t think so.

She soon shook off her thoughts about herself though, she had drunk enough ale now to make her feel more relaxed, and slowly she appeared. Instead of odd glimpses of a smile or a shadowed arm or leg, she looked more like one of the forkyped wights. Feeling encouraged, she shook out her long hair, and went across to where most of the fun seemed to be. Her skirts jingled as she went, barefoot, to listen to the limerick contest.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Fea quickly joined in with the limericks, eschewing the inappropriate ones that she had learned in the company of so many young men.

There once was a dark stormy night

Where I travelled with naught for a light.

But I got here unbruised

And maybe amused

Some guests of our good Barrow-Wight!

[wilwarin538]

Since the party was livening up so much all feelings of embaresment or shyness was completely wipped away frowm Wil she pranced over to the piano again(dancing more then walking), doing afew twirls as she went, her white dress circling around her and sat down at the stool again. Instead of playing a slow song like she did before she played faster, happier music to match the limericks being read out.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Dill!" Hookbill called out triumphantly, "Tom Bombadill! And you shouldn't jest Mss Esty. He's an important man. No one knows quite who he is, save The Professor!"

Hookbill leaped out of his seat and was about to embark on a long debate over the identity of Bombadill, when he suddenly spotted the Cake Pio had presented. He smiled and apologised to Esty for his harsh words.

"Do forgive me," he pleaded, "I can get rather uppity on subjects like on to this." He then drew his flute and played the tune he'd devised to go along with his poem. A few wights sung his song as Hookbill Danced a top of his table once again, obviously not learning from the last time and he fell off once again.

[littlemanpoet]

"Fine rhymes there, Hookbill and Fea! Fine indeed!"

"Hmmm, Pio, I dunno. Hmmm.... I have it!"

Pio and Max came down hill,
mathoms from Barrowwight to shill,
but woudn't you know it,
she'd no place to stow it,
so took wine and drank her fill!

"But maybe we can work up another one."

Child had tucked under arm
a tome full of balrog charm
proving that wings
were useless things
when it came to causing alarm.

Oh! And one more, since I've gone and taken a peek at Esty's busy-work while we've all been partying.

In Esty's considered opinion,
Shelob and all her minions
are daunted the more
by the Lady of yore
than the brightest star in the heavens!

"Where's that wine? I'm thirsty!"

[Firefoot]

"I'm going to be late..." muttered the ghostly figure to herself. Firefoot urged on her likewise ghostly horse (whose name, oddly enough, was also Firefoot) a little faster as the Barrow-downs finally came into sight. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that others were still arriving as well. I must not be too late, then.

There was little that could be called friendly about the place, with jagged stones lining the walk and a chill wind blowing over the numerous barrows, yet Firefoot found herself looking forward to this party very much indeed, all the more so after having unfortunately missed the previous year's party.

Upon reaching His Wightness's barrow, she dismounted, bidding the horse to wander about as he wished. She entered the barrow, drawing back a dark green cloak, borrowed specifically for the occasion, to reveal a nice pair of jeans and a lighter green T-shirt (but no foot covering). She walked over to the table and set down her gift, an odd thing whose purpose she did not know. It was black and green in color, though, and interesting enough to look at in its own mysterious way. It seemed appropriate.

She then pinned on her nametag, which had scrawled on it simply "Firefoot."

Until this point she had paid little attention to the others who had gathered, but now she finally did. There were plenty whom she could talk to, but for the moment contented herself to take a seat on one of the plump chairs and enjoy the limerick contest. Sure enough, she soon found herself grinning at the entertainment.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Fea waved as Firefoot came in, beckoning her over. Firefoot declined with a nod, so Fea continued.

"Were you aware that we should all wear crowns?

For we've proved ourselves not to be clowns

When we signed up on here.

We all made it clear

That it's brilliant folks who inhabit the 'Downs!"

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Esty/H applauded LMP's and Fea's newest efforts amusedly, then walked around the room, looking at the various clothing donned by the wights - what a variety! There was Nuru's lovely dress, 'Michael'/Formendacil's green tie - both snazzy and appropriate - various jeans in various stages of wear and tear, interesting jewelry - in short, all a fashion-interested eye could appreciate. She tasted the many interesting foods and drinks - cakes, especially chocolate, were always irresistable; and homemade specialties beat any restaurant food. She nipped at the elderflower wine and chuckled over Enca's account of the Esty Street sign - now that would have been an interesting sight!

The gift table was filling nicely; she hoped The Barrow-Wight would show up soon to see how highly he was regarded by his guests. With a wave at Cami and Pio and a promise to have time for a chat later, she approached Formendacil and Hookbill; "Do tell me," she said, "if the Balrog is an enigma, then do you think that Tom Bombadil has wings?"

[littlemanpoet]

Woot! Woot! Feanor! Way to rhyme it! Way to shine it!

[wilwarin538]

I wish I could think of limericks like the, Wilwa thought as she continued to play happily. She was glad to see Firefoot come in. Well there are still people coming, but were is Mister Wight?

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Fea smiled widely, laughing happily at LMP. Her sense of humor had been lost on most peers this weekend, so recognition at the party made her grin.

"Another?" she asked with a big grin.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Wings?" Said Hookbill, still lying on the floor, and a little dazed (so he did not notice the sarcasm in Esty's voice) "I can't see what importance that bears at all, Mss Esty."

Hookbill then leaped to his feet and peered about the room. He straightened his waistcoat and placed his flute back in his pocket (it came apart so it could fit there). Sipping on a glass of wine he was already regretting, Hookbill Staggered back to him chair only to find that someone had already taken it.

"Ah well," he sighed, "it's only solitaire."

"I beg you're pardon?" said the Wight in the chair, "What has Solitaire got to do with it?"

"It's an old expression," explained Hookbill, "Oh, never mind."

[davem]

Davem turns up to complain about the noise, nicks a bottle of Old Winyards while nobody's looking & stomps off into the night for a quiet smoke, muttering about 'the youth of today...'

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Esty/H to davem:

[wilwarin538]

wilwa to davem:

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Now, now Esty" said Hookbill, "Don't cause trouble. "

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I saw that!" Fea cried at davem's retreating back. "Old folks of today..." she muttered. "No sense of fun." She smiled broadly allowing everyone to see that under no circumstances was she to be taken seriously.

"Davem's gone and come"

Fea cried,

"And he nicks Ol' Winyards for fun.

But I think he'll return,

More drinking to earn,

'Cuz ol' davem forgot to grab rum!"

[Lalwendë]

Lalwende just knew davem would do that. Nothing could interrupt his quiet smoke, except a bottle of Old Winyards. She knew all too well how merry he'd get after that and gave him a conspiratorial wink as he stomped away.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Hookbill, was amused by this little poem and decided to add another small one of his own.

But alas! With old Davem gone,
Where shall our drink come from?
For all our songs, who here can boast
We all still await, our esteemed host!
So, with Davem, let us not start a fight
Instead, let us await The Barow Wight!

Hookbill bowed to the small group of Wights who had heard his poem.

[Child of the 7th Age]

That Davem ! Wasn't it just like him? To come nipping in from the Books forum and make off lickety-split with a fine bottle. One of these days, Child vowed, I shall drag him down to the Green Dragon Inn and stand him up on one of the tables, and not let him out till he's come up with a poem for the entertainment of our guests.

As she saw Littlemanpoet whisking by, she reached out a hand and tapped him on the shoulder. "You do know the way to a matron's heart. Praise me and I'll have little to say. But mention my "children"--the flesh and blood ones, or the ones in print--and I'll definitely forgive your earlier nonsense." With that Child saluted Imp and again went about her business of passing out drinks.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Yeah," Fea said with not a little bit of amusement shimmering in her hazel eyes, and her cheeks flushed with laughter. "Where is our host? Dreadfully impolite, not to even roll out of bed to greet his guests. For all he knows, we could be sneaking off with all his treasures." She laughed merrily, turning to Formendacil. "Of course I'd like a drink." she winked at him. "So kind of you to offer. I'd just love a Fresca. My favorite soda, you know."

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Ah, Fea," cried Hookbill, "Have you not heard of being 'fashionably late'?" Fea shook her head ad Hookbill took out his flute again and played a very short, yet cheery, tune. "But yes, if he were to arrive now, it would be less than fashionable. Unless, of course, he has a ring of power and is already here! Or perhaps he is pursuing Davem for the wine he took."

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Esty/H stifled a yawn with a discretely held hand and wondered - could she sneak off for a few hours of sleep? It was late in her homeland, and she needed at least a minimum of rest. Apparently she had used up her contigent of all-nighters in younger years, reading. Cami and Pio were there to help with the hosting duties, and what with the miracle of modern technology, she could relive the missing hours in the morning. She waved a cheery and weary farewell to all, then drifted off to her own barrow.

[davem]

Davem staggers in, recites a dirty limmerick about the Barrow Wight & an amorous lady troll, challenges everyone to a fight & collapses in a sozzled heap in the corner...

[littlemanpoet]

"You do know the way to a matron's heart. Praise me and I'll have little to say. But mention my "children"--the flesh and blood ones, or the ones in print--and I'll definitely forgive your earlier nonsense."

"Nonsense? I'm just channeling Eodwine of the Gap myself!" LMP winked. "Hmmm.... Lessee...."

Miz Bella the Tûk from the west
gave all of her students a test:
"Draw me a dragon
with its name tag on
and I'll make one come here as a guest.

Ah, there goes Esty, six or so hours ahead of us western land folk, going beddy bye. Night night, Esty! We'll trink plenty to your health! Be sure!"

[Ealasaide]

Ealasaide slid quietly in the door and looked around to see if she could see any familiar faces. Not seeing anyone right away, she cast a glance down at the dog at her side and smiled. The dog, a gold-colored coyote mix, panted up at her with a friendly expression and wagged her plumy tail. Ealasaide shifted the hot plate of broiled salmon to her other hand and scratched the dog behind the ears. Idly, she looked around for the long table where the food was to be left for the party. Finding it, she walked over and added her contribution to the row of dishes and blushed slightly. Mostly salads and desserts...

"Oh, dear... out of step with the world as usual..." she murmured to the dog at her side, then made her way over to the table where the nametags had been laid out. She picked one out and embossed it with a large "E", taking special care to jazz it up with a bit of interlace. Before setting the pen down, she took a long look at it and, not finding the nametag quite artistic enough, pushed her silver bracelets back on her arms and added a few flowering vines around the edges and took another look. Since it still did not look quite complete, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a bit of wire, a wire-working jig, and small set of pliers. A few moments later, she sighed happily and pinned the nametag into place on the shoulder of her green cotton blouse. A small length of silver chainmail hung down from the underside of the tag, its ends ornamented with freshwater seed pearls and tiny silver bells. At last, it was right. Should she make one for the dog, too?

She was just thinking this over when she looked over her shoulder and realized for the first time that she had created a small logjam at the nametag table already. Blushing more deeply, she stepped out of the way quickly and apologized to the folks behind her. "Ooh, sorry," she stammered. "I'm afraid I got a little carried away." She stepped a little farther into the room, where a number of fellow wights had already made themselves comfortable, playing music and reading poetry, and again looked around for familiar faces. She saw a few that she thought she recognized, and smiled pleasantly in their general direction, but, being neither a musician nor a poet herself, she happily ceded the floor to them.

Ealasaide pushed her striped hair - blond and ash brown - back from her face and with a quick word to her dog, retreated into a shadowy corner with a glass of strong red wine in one hand and a chunk of cheese from the buffet table in the other. She put the wine glass down on a nearby end table and took a small pocket knife out of the pocket to which she had recently returned her wire-working gear and proceeded to split the chunk of cheese between herself and the dog. She had never been quite comfortable at parties, instead preferring wide open spaces and the company of only a few companions, but this was one party she had not wanted to miss.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"What are you doing?" Fea heard called from an alternate dimension. Flustered, she responded.

"I'm... um... checking my e-mail?"

"That's not your e-mail."

"Well... it kind of is, see I get PMs, which are like e-mail, and I..."

"Right."

"Well actually, I'm writing limericks."

"Oh, well in that case... actually, no case about it. There's a pile of clothes waiting for you to fold them."

"Aww, but Mom..." Fea looked at her mother, hoping that the sad puppy-dog look might appease the woman's house-cleaning plans for her. No such luck, Fea thought sadly. Her companions watched open-mouthed as Fea carried on an entire conversation with thin air. Turning, Fea looked back at everyone.

"Sorry guys... my mom's being lame. I've gotta go clean." she sighed in a long-suffering way. "Maybe I'll be back later. I've got to get online and um... I dunno.. I'll look for excuses. Da Vinci! That's a great excuse. I've got a research paper to write and..." Fea's voice trailed off as an etherial hand reached into cyberspace to drag her away to do laundry. "Bye everyone! Don't lose my bag! It's... a suprise! For when the phantom gets here!"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

After pocking Davem with a stick proved to be less fun than previously expected, Hookbill got to his 'feet' and yawned. Back in his old time period, the sun had set hours ago and the moon was already high. Taking his flute one more time, Hookbill played a small tune to get the attention of anyone who'd give it to him.

"Fare you all well!

To you all, May you're days never grow thin
But, Davem, please go easy on the gin!
Would you Give my regards to our host?
That, in happiness, he may have the most,
Of course, I'm sure of him we're all a big fan
But just wait till you see The Saucepan man!
May this celebration not be fell
Farewell!"

[Firefoot]

Though enjoying herself immensely while watching and listening, Firefoot soon found that she desired to do more than watch the proceedings. She was no poet, least of all on the spur of the moment like this, so she looked around for some other company.

Ever a dog person at heart, the newest arrival, or her dog, rather, caught Firefoot's eye. At a closer look, Firefoot realized it to be Ealasaide. Smiling, Firefoot wandered over and greeted, "Welcome to the party! Nice dog."

[littlemanpoet]

"Great goodbye there, Hookbill! May your hangover be ever so gentle in the morning!"

The party goers seemed to be either leaving or plowing into "first supper", so LMP snuck out the door for a bit of fresh air, counting on being back before long.

[Ealasaide]

It was a instant before Ealasaide realized that she had been spoken to, but the words, "Nice dog!" caught her attention. She glanced up and saw Firefoot standing in front of her and smiling down at the dog.

Ealasaide grinned. "Thanks! Her name's Codijune. Are you a dog person, then?"

[Lalwendë]

Lalwende laughed loudly when she saw davem come staggering back in, she knew that the Old Winyards would take effect quickly. His smoke rings would grow more egg shaped and he'd collapse soon. One sniff of Barliman Butterbur's apron and he was bound to fall over.

The limerick was amusing, but she saw how everyone looked puzzled when she shouted out "Who wants a feight?". What did everyone want a 'fete' for? Weren't they at a party already? Lalwende snorted with laughter, but she knew if she'd said it, then everyone would have been asking her why they wanted new feet.

The ale was making her a bit tired, too. She knew that she'd be joining davem in that crumpled heap soon, but all the same, she decided to see if she could stay up a little longer.

[Firefoot]

Firefoot tried the name out. "Codijune. That's cool." She knelt down, letting the dog sniff her hand before giving her head a friendly scritch.

"I love dogs," she said, in response to Ealasaide's question. She stood up again. "I have one at home, but I had to leave him there today."