An Unexpected Vir(tu)al Party

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Estelyn smiled as she looked around the ballroom. The refreshments were definitely popular, songs were being sung and stories told, reminiscences being shared - she had high hopes of hosting the party for another two weeks, until the jubilation of 20 years could be celebrated. She mused on the possibilities for a special commemoration of that special event...

[Arry]

Arry nodded as Estelyn glanced his way, and dipped the guitar he was playing in her direction. He turned back toward Envinyatar and sang along on the last verse. The older fellow’s fellow voice had grown stronger as the song went on and he seemed to have gained the trick to keeping on tune.

Not that it mattered. Old Jack wouldn’t really have cared. The fact that there was camaraderie, and pleasure in the music, and drinks to fuel the merrymaking would have been enough for him.

One of them ordered another round of drinks, local brew this time. Mugs were raised and clinked. And more songs sung. Pio was enticed once again to join in. This was an old song that she'd sung many times. One which always brought laughter to both the singers and the listeners

Arry’s eyes lit up with delight to see her enjoy the singing of it once again.

[Formendacil]

"Hrrrm hoom..."

Deep in his dusty home in New Luthany, Formendacil stirred. Who was to say what he was now, who had once been a cantankerous Númenórean of Arnor, but Barrow-downers are not obliged to self-identify themselves with but one of Middle-earth's races and the slow passage of time had rendered him far more Entish than aught else, at least so far as his virtual life went.

"I smell something in the air," he muttered to himself. It was dust, most likely, for a thick layer covered his haunt. He spent most of his days in the Other Land now, where he had reached his Hobbit majority (though had not come into any inheritance). That was a dour realm of late, and perhaps the dourness drove him back to the dusty lands he'd once known.

Even the invitation to celebrate the Downs's impending anniversary was covered over with further layers of postal detritus. It was weeks old.

"A wizard is never late..." he heard himself say aloud, in a creaking timbre of a voice. He frowned: that was a sign of age indeed, if he were unthinkingly quoting The Movies.

"...nor is he early," he admitted with a deep, ponderous sigh. Selecting his heaviest staff, he started away.

[TheGreatElvenWarrior]

he party was already starting when Lady Great finally opened her mail to see her invite, but this was not unusual for the lady because she was always fashionably late. She called to her sweetheart Baranduin to her side and they quickly put together a basket of tea, cakes, and their special pipeweed to take. You can't go to a party emptyhanded! she said aloud as she slipped into her coat. She couldn't go anywhere without her tea, and she knew her friends would love to share it anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ladies Great entered the ballroom (and remembered to wash their hands). I have so many memories here. Lady Great said with tears in her eyes. There were her old friends. She felt the joy of seeing all of their faces in that familiar place. I'll be right over, I just need to find some wine. said the lady to Oddwen and Ka as she thought about the order in which she was going to greet everyone. How lovely was it to visit her old stomping grounds again. This looks like the beginning of our best party yet she thought.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Party activity had slowed down in the course of time, as it does when friends feel free to come and go, or to sit in companionable silence and recollection. But now a special announcement was made by Estelyn:

"My dear Elves and Dwarves, Hobbits and Humans, Wizards, and Orcs, and Wraiths of all Peoples. May 1 is the Barrow-Downs' 20th birthday - it is 20 years old tomorrow!"

"Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns!" the guests shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Esty was doing splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious.

"I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am." Noises of trumpets and horns, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments. In one corner of the ballroom some of the members, supposing Mod Estelyn to have finished (since she had plainly said all that was necessary) now got up an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance-tune.

But Esty had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster nearby, she blew three loud hoots. The noise subsided.

"I have called you together for a Purpose. Indeed for Three Purposes! First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all, and that twenty years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable wraiths. Secondly, to celebrate the Downs' birthday. Thirdly and finally, to this effect I wish for you to share your favourite poetry with us for the occasion. Whether you quote from the books we all love, or recite your own serious or humorous poems, or share a translation in another language, of the Ring poem, for example - your contributions are welcome! Those who know the use of special techniques to record their own voices reading a poem are welcome to post the links here, so we can hear you speak. And of course toasts to the Barrow Wight are in order, and any conversation is allowed as you please. I look forward to a wonderful celebration with all of you!

And though in the past, numerous members have announced that they were going, leaving now, I am staying!"

[Huinesoron]

"Twenty years?"

Huinesoron stirred from his corner, stepping out into the room.

"Twenty years... and here's me around for barely two. It suddenly feels like a very heavy history is hanging over me..."

He stopped, shaking his head, and smiled. "But if anything is hanging from these rafters, it's bunting. This is a festive occasion! And while I may not be the best in crowds (though put me in a riddling game and I will dive in wholeheartedly), I will join you all in raising a glass to the Downs and the Wight - and in sharing a little poetry."

Huinesoron shuffled through his pockets, studiously ignoring the amused looks he was getting, and after a few moments produced a scrap of paper. "I wrote this some years ago," he explained (or failed to explain). "I was practicing Sindarin at the time, and I... so it's a translation of the last four lines of Sam's song in the Tower. You know, 'Above all shadows rides the sun' and so forth?" He coughed, glanced down at the paper, then straightened his back and looked up.

Anor dhosta or-dhuaithoth
Ah elenath hilar
Ú-bêdithan "i galad veth
"Ah in elin 'wannar..."

hS

[Estelyn Telcontar]

The day had arrived, and with it the first poem; Estelyn smiled, rather wistfully - it was not only an appropriate tribute to the Professor's created language/s, it was a timely reminder that "...in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach." These difficult times, too, would pass. She cleared her throat, which had become rather husky over those thoughts, and climbed onto one of the tables to make an announcement:

"As we begin our celebrations, let us take a moment for the ritual of our times. I ask you to take the soap into your wet hands, face west, and recite with me:

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them,
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."

The hall rang with the sound of many voices united as one, then a sound as if of many waterfalls, as hands were rinsed, then the reverent silence of drying them. Estelyn thought she had heard some voices speaking in other languages and hoped that the speakers would recite their poems individually so that all could hear them.

Since she was already on the table, she decided to propose the first toast of the birthday party: "Please raise your glasses, preferably filled with something you like, and toast the one person without whom our lives would have been much less interesting: The Professor!"