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

[Thenamir]

Thenamir, the spirit of capitalism, was broke again. Being a capitalist doesn't always mean one will be a successful capitalist, and his latest idea for making a million farthings, Selling foot warmers to hobbits, had failed as miserably as the last 50 or so ideas he had. Fortunately, being dead means that your expenses (like food, shelter, and clothing) are very low indeed.

He was roused from his musings by a banging on his barrow-entrance. He prepared himself to scare whoever should so intrude on his privacy, and was disappointed to find that it was only the postal-wight bringing his ghostly and insubstantial mail. "You know," he snapped at the departing mail-carrier, "you could just float through the door instead of making such a contemptable racket." The post-wight stopped for a moment, then turned around with a smirking grin on it's face and a multi-bolt crossbow in its hands, spraying Thenamir and his door with crudely-fletched arrows. One of them actually passed thru Thenamir, leaving no mark or wound in his ectoplasmic form. He closed the door, muttering about how many wights were going postal these days. "Some people should just go back to their bodies and live in the real world again for awhile," he thought in an insulting fashion.

He was about to toss the mail in the trash (he never got anything except junk mail and sale-circulars, and he'd been to enough wight-sales to last, well, an eternity) when he spotted the gold-engraving on what appeared to be an invitation. Having no social life to speak of he tore open the envelope and out drifted a vellum card from none other than the Divine Miss Estelyn asking for his presence at the Annual Barrow-Ball and Birthday Bash. "Just in time," Thenamir thought, "I'm down to my last hobbit foot in the fridge, and I could use some free grub." He arranged what was left of his insubstantial hair, assumed the appearance of a wealthy businesswight, and flew down the road at such speed that he actually raised a bit of dust of with his see-thru form.

Arriving at the party he floated thru the entranceway just in time to hear H positing her theory on Bombadil's wings. "My dear Miss H," he said in haughty tones as he swiped a pitcher of ale and a handful of finger sandwiches from a passing servant, "still spouting that old nonsense about Bombadil, are you? Everyone knows that Bombadil's wings were just metaphorical in nature. To be sure, I don't think Bombadil really exists. He's just a story that our fearless-leader-BW made up to explain why some tasty hobbits robbed his barrow blind and got away with it. And we here all know about BW's sleeping habits. The hobbits probably wandered in while he was on the slab and too lazy to get up and take care of the problem. And who can blame them for wanting to lift a few pretty baubles? BW has quite a collection...or used to, anyway."

Some of the gathered guests gasped that he should say such insulting things about their chief, but others snickered quietly, knowing he was probably right. For her part, Estelyn/H smiled at the latecomer and offered her pale luminescent hand.

[Ealasaide]

Ealasaide slept much later than she had intended and awoke to the sounds of music and shouted poetry from across the room. Yes, she discovered rather quickly, the party was still in full swing. She sat up slowly and blinked around the dimly lit room which had changed at some point from being illuminated by the warm glow of yellow-orange fire-light to the cool glow of green firelight, which lent the place a far more ghostly atmosphere than before.

"Fitting..." she muttered to herself and looked around for the dog. When she had fallen asleep the night before, Codijune had been nestled snugly into the nook behind Ealasaide's knees. Upon Ealasaide's waking, she was nowhere to be seen. "Probably over by the food table, begging for handouts... which sounds like the right place to be to me."

Ealasaide smoothed her sleep-tousled hair into a slightly less messy mess and walked over to the still heavily-laden food table, where she piled a plate with tasty morsels. She poured herself a mug of strong black coffee and looked around again for the dog. Still not finding her, Ealasaide went back to the spot where she had been sleeping and sat down on the floor to eat. Seconds later, she felt the gentle touch of a paw on her knee as Codi crawled out from under an armchair nearby and joined her for breakfast. The chair was set rather high on old-fashioned wooden clawfeet and had long skirts that had hitherto concealed the dog from view. Ealasaide handed Codijune a bite of cheese off of her plate and, having solved the mystery of what had become of the dog, began to look around for Hilde. She had seen her the night before, but, by the time Ealasaide had made her way over to speak to Hilde, Hilde was already asleep. Ever on different schedules, Hilde had apparently awakened early and taken off again to another part of the room.

"Ah, well," sighed Ealasaide. "I imagine we'll catch up to one another eventually."

She was just raising the last bite of a sandwich to her mouth when a bloodcurdling yowl tore through the air. Codijune, who had been sitting placidly at Ealasaide's side, instantly leaped up and with a mighty "WOWF! charged away across the room, trailing her six-foot leather lead behind her. Startled, Ealasaide made a lunge for the end of the leash, sending her plate and her mug of coffee flying. She missed her grip on the leash and the dog disappeared into the crowd of partying wights.

"CODI!" shouted Ealasaide. "Codi!" Not noticing that her green blouse was now stained with cold salmon and coffee, she pushed herself to her feet and tore after the dog.

[Ainaserkewen]

Aina came up behind where that startlingly huge group of party-goers were discussing Tom Bombadil. Aina had to remember her manners or be caught eye-rolling. Instead she approached quietly, much like a ghost, and laid small hands on both Fea's and the phantom's shoulders squarely.

"Didn't you guys bring any presents for me?" She pouted a bit.

They both turned from their conversation and looked blankly at Aina. She smiled again and inched her way into the circle.

"I think Fea's right," She spoke to the group, "When do we see Bombadil and the Witch King together? It makes perfect sense. And by the way, Hi everybody, sorry I'm late. I just flew in from Canada and my arms are exhausted!" She giggled at her own joke.

[Thenamir]

"I can't see the Bombadil/WitchKing connection," Thenamir offered, slapping a name tag on his lapel that read Hello, My Name Is TVS, "because old Angy bought the farm in the battle of the Pellenor. If the rumors are true (I personally don't give them any weight whatsoever) then the grey geezer Gandalf went to talk to him after the war was over. That is, until he sailed off to the end of the world, and good riddance too."

"If anyone were to ask me, and no one has so I'll say it anyway, I think the old King of Angmar, may he rest in peace, was actually Elrond. Here Elrond is, supposedly one of the wisest heads in Middle Earth, and he picks a hobbit, the scrawniest and most vulnerable critter available, and gives to him the one thing the enemy needed for complete totalitarian victory. Then he sends him off into the home court of the enemy with this veritable homing beacon hanging on his neck! It sounds to me like Elrond was in league with Sauron and was trying to make it as easy as possible for the Dark One to pick off the ring without blowing his own cover. You notice that Elrond and his bunch are nowhere near the final battles."

Thenamir/TVS sauntered off in the direction of the musical instruments, picked up a guitar and began tuning it.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Ms. 'H' sat in a comfortable settee, fading into the background and listening to the others carry on what she had begun. That was a tactic she frequently employed, and she always enjoyed the results. She grinned at TVS, appreciating his theory and looking forward to hearing more from the other guests. Though she would likely soon leave unobtrusively for the beauty sleep she so desperately needed, she was sure the party would carry on merrily without her. And she had another day to look forward to...

[Ainaserkewen]

Aina peered at Enca, "Metaphorical wings? Doesn't every Canadian fly? I mean, from the lack of planes in our military to the few modes of transportation in extremely snowy weather, you'd think we all should be able to do it by now.

Someone passed Aina a nametag, some random servant of the BW apparently. He shoved it into her hand all the while muttering about people "arriving late" and "giving him more work" or some such nonsense.

"Hold on a sec! This says Shannon...I'm not supposed to give out my name..." Oh well, cat's out of the bag. She pinned it to her crisp white button down shirt. "I'll be whatever you want me to be I suppose."

[Nimrodel_9]

Nearly tripping over her long blue dress, Nimrodel stumbled in through a door. "Why did I even wear a blasted dress?" she asked herself. "Jeans and a t-shirt are my style!" She quickly forgot what she was wearing as she saw her friends. She smiled and waved to a few. She had been afraid everyone would be gone. With her job it was sometimes hard to make it to the Downs. She flipped her long, curly, brown hair over her shoulder and straightened her name tag that read Chels. She laid her worn copy of Return of the King on the table with her clarinet case and strode over to a group of ghostly beings.

[Lindolirian]

After sitting quietly in his traditional corner, Lindolirian begins to feel guilty about not properly introducing himself.
"Greetings good wights, old and new. It's wonderful to see you all here at our Fifth Birthday Party! You all seem to be enjoying yourselves with the festivities here, but I remind you that no party is complete without fun and games. As usual, I'll be in the Quiz Room ready to take you on in celebration of five years of good discussion. See you there!"
And with that, the World's Tallest Hobbit retired back to his familiar old trivia, but still kept an open ear (or eye) to the main party.

[THE Ka]

Everyone was up, and Ka felt thirty. Now, she wasn't thirty for just anything, Absinthe seemed good, but just alittle since it was rather potent. Falling threw the floor again, Ka returned with a little of the liquid and her sitar of course. Her avatars were situated around and about the party, really doing nothing but just standing around, looking absolutely drained. Feeling rather sorry, Ka called them back and sent them home. All of them, which formed a rather long line into the abyss of the corner. First mixing the sugar and water she continued to sip the bitter contents of the very small glass, a thimble almost in size, Ka watched the party continue.

Where was the BarrowWright? Why would he miss this party? Even asking these questions, Ka did not alot of room to talk, since she had missed a couple of her own. Though it was true that one of her friends had a birthday fetish, it was still rather unusual for someone to miss their own party. The party had been running for two days now, and it was most like that BW would come at the last minute. Done with the small glass, she situated herself to play her sitar. Struming a few practice notes and some scales later, she randomly made up a song. In truth, she couldn't play a single song written for sitar and had gotten by with making them up for practice.

More and more people arrived, and even though the food bar was a little pathetic, the party was reaching it's prime.

[Thenamir]

She laid her worn copy of Return of the King on the table with her clarinet case

"Hey, Nimrodel_9! Bring your clarinet over and we can jam!" said Thenamir from where he was experimentally strumming the guitar.

"What shall we play? "I Left My Heart In Minas Tirith"? "My (Telltale) Heart Will Go On?" Or maybe "My Ghoul"? Perhaps some other song titles suggested by the audience (hint hint)?

[Nimrodel_9]

"Ok!" Nimrodel said laughing. Quickly she opened her case and began to put her instrument together. "A guitar and a clarinet! This will be fun! Are there any suggestions to what we shall play?"

[wilwarin538]

Would it be alright if I join you with my violin?

[littlemanpoet]

LMP bid the Barrow Wight a happy deathday and many happy returns, then bid farewell to one and all, a most entertaining party it had been. He collected his various rpg personae, congas, bass guitars, brass, air fiddles and pipe dreams, and put them all in his front pockets. Out the front door he floated, humming odd bits of tunes.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Hilde laughed until she started coughing as she thought again about the question Pio’s had poised. Me play or sing? “Gads yes, I do to be sure, but let’s just say I have never been encouraged to pursue it!” she had answered with a grin. A bit of an understatement, really. And after Hilde had offered her a handful of homemade chidwa (heavily laced with red pepper) and a purple pill to go with it, or rather before it. Pio had sauntered off, with Hilde staring at her ankle trying to figure out just how to pronounce ~*~P~*~ . She was never much good at foreign languages!

But now that she had finished sorting out the trinkets on the table, untangling chains and matching sets. She looked at them appreciatively; they did look pretty authentic to her eye, despite the comments on the Barrow-wight taste in fine jewelry these days. But just as she was trying to decide if the were genuine article or simply neo-Cardolan, perhaps Numenorian or rubbish, a cat closely followed by Codijune whoshed by. And as Ealasaide scurried past quickly gaining on the animals. Hilde/GIN called out, “Hey Ealasaide! What to you make of these?” But Ealasaide seemed to have her hands full and held up a finger as if to signal that she be there in a minute.

Getting an uncomfortable feeling that these things had not been meant to be left out, Hilde scooped up the baubles and dumped them in an empty spittoon that looked remarkably like a golf trophy, sitting under the table. Picking up the spittoon, lest anyone actually attempt to use the thing, she set it on a high shelf, next to the hardback copy of Tolkien’s letters and the autographed Alan Lee print. She squinted trying to read the inscription on the side of the brass cup. Well I'll be, she thought, Bandobras Took! The old-wight's been hitting the Shire flea-markets!

[Encaitare]

Enca was feeling far more energetic and outgoing than she usually found herself, and so she drifted back towards the musicians in time to hear Lindolirian talk about transposition.

Music theory! Enca thought in geeky delight.

"No worries, Lindo," she informed him cheerfully. "Oboes play in the key of C, and so do violins. Most clarinets are in B flat, so you have to write the part a whole step (two chromatic pitches) higher if you want to play it on a clarinet. Guitars sound an octave lower than written, but you don't have to transpose at all."

"Oh... thanks," Lindo replied, now a little bit wiser.

"My, you are a tall hobbit, aren't you?" Enca then moved on to greet Thenamir, a spirit she'd heard about but rarely spoken with. "I can't tell you how great a pleasure it is to meet the spirit of our economic system," she said, shaking his hand.

Suddenly she got an idea. "I know a song we could play!" She sang the chorus of the song and grinned: "I wanna rock and roll all wight, and party e-ve-ry day!"

She then commenced headbanging, and wondered if anyone wanted to start a mosh pit.

[Encaitare]

"I just flew in from Canada and my arms are exhausted," Aina laughed, and Enca could not resist joining the conversation.

"I see that you too have metaphorical wings, then," she observed. "Or I don't see, rather. Say, phantom, what have you got in those cool trunks?" She peered at them curiously, but he only responded with enigmatic cheekiness, "Pictures of Bombadil and Aina flying." Her refused to say any more about it for the time, so Enca turned her attentions back to the crackpot theories.

"I'm not so sure about Elrond being in league with Sauron. Clearly Frodo had some sort of inside deal with Sauron, or why else would he volunteer to bring the Ring at great personal peril? And what about Grima and Treebeard? Forget that whole 'rousing of the Ents' business; it's obvious that Grima was mad at Saruman and gave Treebeard a few hints. You know, like 'Hey, the third massive stone block from the left is a little loose and if you yank it out then the dam will break, no problem.'"

Talking about her favorite slimy character made Enca wonder if Elianna would be joining them at the party -- not, of course, because she thought Eli was slimy in any way, but because then they could be fangirlish together.