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Old 05-01-2012, 12:42 PM   #1
Bęthberry
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Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.
1420! Downers of the World Unite! You have nothing to lose but your PT.

Bethberry wondered if that would be an outrageous enough name for this year's birthday party thread. It was, after all, an acknowledgement of all the new personal titles that had been awarded recently and that was certainly the most exciting news around here for some time. "The first of May," she thought. "How auspicious!" And twelve years old and who knows, given prognostications about the end of the world, if the forum will live to see its teen years. Might as well party like there's no next year.

She muttered to herself as she checked the stock of beer, 'shrooms, taters and tea. There was the biggest pile of sausages on the table she had ever seen, each helping being twelve links of wurst! "Yes, yes, enough there to start the party". She peeked into the ovens and saw the cakes rising nicely.

Then she turned to put up the Party Banners: large green banners, with the obligatory sword--"must remember to put out an umbrella stand for all weapons outside the door," she muttered again to herself--and the fancy lettering, "Twelve Years Dead and Loving It". She hoped Morham wouldn't mind the borrowing.

Then she ran off to write a PM to Estelyn, who, she hoped, would provide some music for the party, from an infamous wurst band that sprang up at a Downer moot last year.

Yes, this party had all the trappings to be the wurst of times.
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Old 05-01-2012, 01:21 PM   #2
Legate of Amon Lanc
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Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.
Legate gently knocked the freshly painted Barrow-Door after he had first checked it for any queer signs and marks. When nobody answered, he knocked more heavily. When still nothing happened, he started thinking of borrowing one of the instruments the Alien had always used in Hookbill's tales in order to remove obstacles, yet it was not really to his taste to risk blowing up the whole barrow - and who knows what else.

"Maybe there's nobody there yet," something squealed at his feet. He looked down and saw a tiny squirrel dressed in steel hauberk.

"What in Arda - what is that?" Legate raised his eyebrows at the little critter.

"Or maybe they are in there, only they turned into Werewolves and are busy accusing and eating each other," the squirrel continued, oblivious to the Wight's question. "That can take Nights. I should go back and tell Lady Estelyn that it isn't worth it coming here." The small animal turned around and started hopping down the hill.

"Wait," Legate cried after it. The squirrel stopped.

"Yes?" it squealed.

"Esty sent you here?"

The squirrel glanced at him, laying one of its ears down. "May-be," it said. "Lady Estelyn, that is. She might or she might not come. That is all I am permitted to say."

Legate shook his head at the animal. "Shouldn't you be, like, rather policing some forums or...?"

The squirrel tapped its armored breast with its tiny paw. "I know the best what to do! My tiny sisters are doing that job. I was sent here."

"Fair enough," Legate said. But suddenly at that moment, he heard a voice from behind that sounded as if it was coming out of the ground.

"Legate! Here! I was waiting for you!"

He turned around and saw the door to the barrow open and Bęthberry putting out an umbrella stand.

"Excuse me," he wanted to tell the squirrel, but as he turned back again he realised that the animal disappeared. He simply shrugged and went to meet Bęthberry at the door.

"Nice to see you," he said. "They had not begun to arrive yet, I presume?" He scanned the empty hall. "These are really pretty banners," he noticed and his face lit up. "Ah, yes, exactly the right color! Let's hope that the others come, it would be a pity, so much preparation... hope they won't have any trouble on the road, either. I heard rumors about the Nine being abroad and whatnot... so much for The Witch-King... or Queen... or the Keeper of Dol Guldur coming, eh? But maybe we shall be surprised. Perhaps we can have a cup of tea before everyone comes... or even a wurst," he added, noticing what was on the table.
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Old 05-01-2012, 02:15 PM   #3
Celuien
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Celuien has just left Hobbiton.
The winding forest path stretched long and dark ahead. In many places, the footpath vanished into tangles of roots and brush, for it had been many days since anyone had passed this way. But today, a cloaked figure moved swiftly along the road, as easily as if it had been freshly cleared, for the path remained etched in memory. Though it had been countless hours since she last visited, the summons to the Barrow Downs was still heard, and Celuien would answer.

Ahead, the path lead to a black door inscribed with glowing green runes. “Password.” Celuien frowned. This password spell had slipped into the far recesses of her memory. To have traveled so far, only to be defeated by a simple bit of door-opening magic!

A frog hopped in front of the doorframe. Simultaneously, the spell hopped to the front of Celuien’s memory. An incomprehensible shout resembling “Daksdnskdjcbfawlerg!” echoed through the woods. The door opened. Celuien joyfully crossed the threshold to set foot upon the Downs once more.

Not far away, an open Barrow door revealed cheerful party banners within. Celuien hurried forward and stepped inside. “Hello! So good to see you again!”
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Old 05-01-2012, 07:56 PM   #4
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Galadriel55 is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Galadriel55 is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Galadriel55 is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.
After a day full of hard work and bad moods fifty-five identical girls were finally making their way to the main Barrow, chattering ildly.

"They should call it the 'Barrow Ups', you know," said the 19th. "That's what it always does to my mood. Like now!"

"Well, now you look quite tired and grumpy," commented the 52nd.

"Because we haven't gotten there yet!" the 19th retorted indignantly, "I have had a hard day and a long, you know."

"I wonder who's going to be there," murmured the 28th.

"I, for one, an prepared for the wurst," said the 43rd.

"Like the phantom showing up and turning the party into a Were-Football game?" the 7th asked, full of sweet innocence.

"Yes, wurst, and the cakes, and fish and chips served by S. Gamgee," the 43rd continued without notice.

"Niccce fissshhhes..." echoed the 4th. The 52 poked her. "Ow! What- oh, eh eh, I mean..." the 4th corrected herself quickly.

"Ah'm seow excahted teow saee evreybohdey," the 36th said dreamily.

"Are you imitating Kath?" the 27th inquired.

"Eohw, Ah'm juest towkeing ein ah fahntahsey wohld ahcceint," the 36th explained.

"Oh of course you wouldn't act like any normal person," the 27th replied.

"Hey!" exclaimed the 56th.

"You're not cannonical! You don't exist!" everyone shouted. The 56th promptly disappeared.

"Do you think we'll really lose our PT?" asked the 45th.

"We might if we come in such numbers. I mean, they're only expecting one of us. Imagine we'd be the wolves - and they'll think there are only three of us!" the 3rd laughed.

"That's a good point, actually," declared the 50th. "We would probably take up all the space and eat all the food as well."

"I assign lack of food and space to Mordor," sighed the 31st.

"That doesn't change it, you know," said the 19th. "Plus, we'd probably offend Nilp with our (worse) case of multiple identities."

All the others nodded. For a second a large rock hid them from sight, and when they should have all passed it, only one emerged. Galadriel55 skipped to the Barrow-Door and flung it wide open without bothering to knock.

"I'm here!" she exclaimed, "I'm a bit late, but I'm here! I brought lembas cakes for all of you too! I made them all by myself," she added in a sly tone. She heard 54 angry ghost voices mutter their disagreement.
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Old 05-01-2012, 10:55 PM   #5
Oddwen
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Silmaril

An odd looking woman walked towards the two standing stones slowly, weaving slightly and occasionally stopping as she attempted to perambulate and adjust the settings on her camera at the same time. She was failing at both verbs, and on at least one occasion she accidentally kicked a small fluffy animal.

Finally the camera battery died and she turned her attentions to her surroundings. The line of brush she had initially been making for was nowhere to be seen, and she didn't remember the dark silhouette of the stones standing before her at all. A mist misted mistily for a space around the hilly hill, reducing visibility and deadening all but the creepiest sounds.

"Spooooky!" she said in a silly voice. Nobody heard, except maybe a squirrel.

There was a not-very-spooky umbrella stand outside the door, containing several weapons and a banana. The green and gold banner above the door read:

Quote:
The way is open. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is open.
Into the Barrow of the Wights entered the odd one. Not a dry, bare, sandy barrow with nothing to sit on or eat, but a dirty nasty wet barrow, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell. It was home.

Over there was the feathered hat of Tom Bombadil where you could enter your name for the obligatory Werewolf game. Or maybe the Tri-Wizard tournament. Canon was a bit mixed up. Just to the leftish was a nook for serious book discussion. A bit more left and a notch or two East was the food, dominated by a giant sculpture of a wurst made entirely out of more wurst. To the North of this was a group of identical ladies handing out lembas.

The hatrack didn't yet contain one of the best detatchable party hoods rumored to be circulating, but Oddwen claimed one of the pegs for her homemade cloak. She did keep the decorative pin which said "Do the Wave for Boromir the Disco King" on it, because after all, it was a party.

And where there's a party, there's music. Unless it's a quiet party. This didn't appear to be a quiet party. It was quiet at the time, but it didn't need to stay that way.

After rummaging around for a bit, she found the audio system and began to play a well-played cassette. The tinny sounds of Sergeant Saucy's Barrow Downs Club Band reached into the hall...
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Old 05-01-2012, 11:27 PM   #6
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Glirdan hurried down the forest trail, scattering the leaves left over from the melted snow in his wake, a rather large parcel under his arm. He had just received his notice about the big party at the Barrow and did not want to be late for this very important date. "Now that I think about it, I'd rather not fall down a rabbit hole like Alice," he said aloud. "Or maybe I would? Although I don't think those dresses would fit well...."

He failed to look ahead, to intent on talking to himself, that he nearly tripped on a squirrel wearing a steel hauberk.

"Would you please watch where it is you are running to in such a manner!! I have a very urgent message to deliver to Lady Estelyn!" The squirrel peeped indignantly.

"Then you best be on your way little fella, don't want you to loose your head!" He chuckled to himself at what he thought was a very clever pun. The squirrel, not understanding the pun (having not heard the conversation Glirdan was having with himself) bit his toe and ran down the forest trail, and (from what Glirdan could gather as he scampered away) muttering words like "nitwit" and "day dreamer". However, Glirdan ignored the squirrel's musings in order to tend to his toe, which was now bleeding. "Little bugger got me good that time....Oh well, it's just a little cut. Must be off!!"

He took off down the trail at a gallop (quite literally galloping....his days of rehearsals were really starting to get to him). As he turned the bend in the trail, he noticed the wisp of a very familiar cloak walking through the door and caught the tail end of what seemed to be many conversations from one individual. "Must be Galadriel" he said with a smile.

He halted on the spot, attempting to catch his breath and brush himself off. If this was the last party he may be having with some of his favorite people (the end of the world being predicted by some crazy people for the end of the year), he must look presentable.

He removed the parcel from underneath his arm and opened the box, revealing a pie which was already cut into twelve different slices. "Twelve years, twelve slices. I just hope the other eleven pies underneath are in eating condition!" (Perhaps a rather large box was not a very fitting description...). He closed the lid of the box, walked over to the door, knocked and waited for someone to let him in.
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Old 05-02-2012, 05:48 AM   #7
Estelyn Telcontar
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Estelyn Telcontar is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Estelyn Telcontar is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
A faint rustling could have been heard from the dark shadows deep in the Barrow - could have been, had the party not already turned noisy. And had the dark not been so pervasive, the slight glint of silver and the shimmer of a black silk gown might have been noticed. Yet the figure standing there remained unseen, though seeing all that happened.

Suddenly the gleaming eyes turned downward, listening for the patter of tiny feet. Through the opening of an almost invisible tunnel popped up a head, and its mouth opened to speak. "Shhh!" said the Dark Princess. "I will read your memory and send my instructions directly to your thoughts. None must realize that we are here."

She held still, as if listening attentively, then nodded. Go back to your black-armoured siblings, she instructed the silvery-white mailed skwerl. They must not know that you are reporting to me. I shall remain here to see what transpires, while you and the others keep watch over the rest of the Downs. Strive to discover all the dark secrets of members, that I may know those things that they wish most to keep hidden. Be on the watch especially for purveyors of tinned meats - aside from that there is little real danger, for trolls have not come here lately. Do not worry - no one in the Barrow dares touch you; all are afraid of you and curse when they see you.

As noiselessly as it had come, the skwerl disappeared. All was still, save for the tapping of one dainty black-shod foot. The music was unexpectedly catchy, and she had not completely forgotten how to dance...
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Old 05-02-2012, 08:30 AM   #8
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Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
The Dark Elf, assuming his stock-sylvan stance in the top of an elder tree, cocked an eyebrow and batted his cerulean orbs (flecked in violet) in a most comely manner. For no other reason than flashy effect, he unsheathed his enchanted mithril blade, Naugrond - the "hammer of the dwarves" - crafted by Telchar of Nogrod in shop class during the 11th grade of the 2nd Age. The Moriquende waved the pyrotechnically-imbued sword about, trying to catch someone's - anyone's - attention. No luck.

The Dark Elf cursed under his breath in a Telerin variant of Sindarin. Gone were the days of heroic quests, daunting foes and the epochal epicness of prior Ages. He made a mental note to call his dwarvish banking firm, Thorinstein & Dainbaum, to check on his retirement accounts (he may be a Dark Elf, but he wasn't necessarily avaricious). He might as well book a charter from that nice Mr. Cirdan at Gray Havens Travel, get a beachfront condo at Tirion-upon-Tuna, sling a hammock between the Two Trees, and take it easy for a century or two.

An odd looking squirrel hovered on the branches above him. Some droppings landed on his shoulder. The Dark Elf sighed. Yes, he would be booking the charter tomorrow.
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Old 05-02-2012, 02:02 PM   #9
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The din was rising now that the Odd Woman with the Boromir Memorial Pin had put Sergeant Saucy's Barrow Downs Club Band on repeat play and the fifty-five identical girls took up their conversation once again. It was almost enough din to break glass, or at least the skins of wursts.

Bethberry had been seated with Legate, enjoying a nice brew and some of the 'shrooms when in had walked Celuien. Now this was a happy surprise that she was able to leave her newly-spoused spouse and party with us! The laughter amongst the three at the table, over discussion of new lives and old werewolf games, was almost enough to rival the conversation of the Fifty-Five.

In fact, so great was the din that it had taken Bethberry some time to hear the knock at the door. In fact, it was the wafting aroma of the pies that had really called her to the door.

Unfortunately, on her way to the door, she tripped over a tapping foot that hadn't been there and fell into the door, which proceeded to open out onto Glirdan, spilling the box of pies from his hands. Luckily, though, Bethberry was able to catch the box before it up ended on her as she lay on the door step. Glirdan recovered himself, took the pies with a haughty sniff and marched into the din of iniquity.

Bethberry lay there, trying to fit her fuzzy hobbit feet, which had been stomped on by the tapping foot that wasn't there, back on in a decorous manner, and then looked up at the elder tree. She was sure, definitely sure, that she had caught a glimpse of a fiery orb flecked in violet amongst the branches if not something that might resemble a light sabre. It was a very long time since she had seen the lights of merisue or garysue eyes. Was this the return of something?
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Old 05-02-2012, 03:32 PM   #10
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Hobbits. Strange creatures. Never serious, never sane - and now, pie juggling? Absurd! This, the Dark Elf thought as he sheathed his ridiculously overpowered uber-blade in its rune-inscribed scabbard studded with faux-silmarils and richly hand-tooled Rhovanion leather. Of course, the ebon sheathe matched his galvorn hauberk, velvet doublet, tall boots and his capricious elf stallion, Lastobethnintolodannangalad (or just Ed for short). If anything, the Dark Elf was color-coordinated but a bit colloquial regarding naming conventions. But what he was doing in a tree in such attire while his long-suffering steed waited in a thicket is another matter altogether. But let us not digress.

He glared down at the irritating halfling (actually, he considered all hobbits irritating) with his requisite fan-fictional, elven-flecked eyes and exclaimed in a suitable pseudo-Shakespearean idiom, "Hail and well met, half-witted halfling! Praytell, is it a habit for hobbits to prestidigitate pies? 'Twas quite a feat with thy feet just there, and like a jongleur to land on thy seat whilst tossing tarts in mid-air array. Verily, it doth take crust!"
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Old 05-02-2012, 07:39 PM   #11
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Celuien's heart skipped a beat when Glirdan's pies went flying. If she ever had learned anything, it was that pies should never be wasted. She cheered for Bęthberry's excellent catch. What kind of pies would they be? Cherry, apple, peach? Her mouth watered. Seeing the pies reminded Celuien to unveil her own celebration treat - a green frog-cake surrounded by a near-plague of chocolate frogs. Amphibians clearly remained one of Celuien's chief obsessions.

The crowd had grown dramatically since Celuien's arrival. She blinked at the crowd of 55 matching girls, certain that she must be hallucinating. Surely she hadn't indulged in quite that much brew so early in the party! But if she had, she was determined to make the best of it. She twirled away from the table in a merry sort of jig, which was not entirely in time with the music, but enjoyable all the same.

With a chuckle, she thought, "Oh my. I'm being quite silly today."
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Old 05-03-2012, 12:28 PM   #12
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Glirdan felt the stub of a little foot connecting with his. Taking a quick glance down was the split second that it took for the door to come swinging open and almost connecting with his face. In his attempt to take a step back, he tripped over his own cloak, and almost lost the box of pies. Luckily, Ms. Bethberry was there to save the day.

In an attempt to regain his composure, he huffed indignantly at his own clumsyness and entered the Barrow, past Ms. Bethberry, not even bothering to help her up in his own flustered state. As he walked in, he noticed a few other guests had arrived.

Celuien was staring open mouthed at the near atrocity of pie spillage, Galadriel was back at having a conversation with her x-amount of other selves ("Wait, is it just her or are there 55 others standing with her?"), Monsieur Legate, who was seated and enjoying wurst, and a rather Odd Woman standing in the corner, wearing a very peculiar pin and playing Sergeant Saucy's Barrow Downs Club Band repeatedly.

He continued to look around, taking everything in; the green party banners so befitting of their Barrow, the table of beer, 'shrooms and wurst, and he could have sworn there was faint smell of cakes wafting from the kitchen. "I do hope sallycakes intends on joining...she does love her cakes." he thought, a faint smile creeping upon his face.

He walked over to the table and started removing the pies carefully from the box, checking each one to make sure they were not damaged. He also came prepared with little place cards to mark each pie. Glirdan was a master of pie baking. Along with the conventional cherry, apple, blueberry and pumpkin pie, he also had a variety of others. He didn't want to name those ones, he wanted to try a bit of game for the guests.

He turned back around and noticed that Ms. Bethberry was still laying on the floor, staring up into the trees outside her door. He walked over to her and extended her hand "Here, my lady hostess. I apologize for my....shall we say....rudeness upon entering. Now, up on your feet." It was then that he noticed a Dark Elf standing at the doorway. "Well are you going to just stand there Morthoron, or are you going to come in and have a beer?"
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Old 05-03-2012, 07:23 PM   #13
Galadriel55
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Galadriel55 is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Galadriel55 is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Galadriel55 is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.
Tired of talking to herself, or rather to the 54 of her "other" selves, Galadriel55 (as a single person now) approached the Odd Woman.

"I heard heard so much about you," she said, "I wish I could meet you earlier. I always wanted to ask you some questions about aspects of Oddity. Is it true that you have spoken with the Wonderful Wizard of Odd?"

"The Odderful Wizodd of Odd!" a ghost voice corrected - one that Galadriel55 recognized as her 14th double. Usually twins have an advantage over others in terms of recognising each other: if it is not you, it is your sibling, unless you are staring at a mirror. Galadriel's case of multiple identities, however, required some more skill. She silently cursed the 14th - something she wouldn't have been able to do had she known herselves less well.
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Old 05-03-2012, 09:24 PM   #14
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Bethberry felt ever so sorry she had knocked down Glirdan but for the life of her she couldn't imagine what she had tripped over. Wasn't it the curtain she had heard swishing?

But then she paid attention to the purple eye in the tree and harrumped as only an RPG character trained in Victorian fiction could harrrump.

"Curiouser and curiouser you are, you flower-eyed feature of fustian fan fiction."

"A half-witted halfling?" "I am no halfling, you scamp, nor even a half-halfling. And it takes full wit to know real nonsense, let me remind you. There you are sitting up a tree imitating a cheshire cat and you laugh at me?"

Bethberry removed her fluffy footed false feet and waved them at the Dark Elf as if they were as famous as any prosthetic elf ear. "Although I suppose it isn't too unlikely that you can't place me. I am the veritable daughter of the most discussed enigma in Middle earth and if you aren't careful, why, I'll blow leaf and branch and you away."

She giggled at the thought.

"Will you get you to your horse in yonder shrubbery or come and join the party?"

At which point she heard Glirdan suggesting the same and offering her his hand.

"Dear Mr. Pieman," she said, "Think nothing of it as it was I who tumbled the tarts." She giggled again.

"Well, let us join the party. I smell chocolate. And I do believe there is dancing."

She nodded her head at the Dark Elf to invite him in after them.
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Old 05-04-2012, 07:08 AM   #15
Morthoron
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Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
The Dark Elf soon realized his arboreal ascension, although contextually correct in regards to his elvish idiom, was, perhaps, not quite in keeping with the subject matter of the piece. This gaffe, although not egregious, did make him look quite silly, particularly since he was aloft in the only tree in the area, and not in some copse or along a forest eave where subterfuge was more appropriate. That he stuck out like a sore thumb made him irritable - moreso than usual.

He clambered down the lone elder with the sinuous movement of a lithesome Eldar. Being quite pleased with the last sentence, the Dark Elf was assuaged in a meta-fictional sense, and this breaking of the fourth wall did much to overcome his initial embarrassment from the entire stereotypical elf-in-a-tree episode. But to his consternation, there was newfound reasons for exasperation. His vaunted elvish acuity had failed him as well, for he discovered that this Bethberry personage was not, in fact, a hobbit, but some sort of enema. When that too proved to be incorrect, and Bethberry corrected him, loudly proclaiming "E-n-i-g-m-a, not enema!" he was so abashed that he became the first elf in recorded history to blush.

Chagrined down to his very noble elvish toes, the Dark Elf bowed, and replied, "Ah yes, 'enigma'! Forgive me, Bethberry, I should have known, given your beard, bright blue jacket and the yellow boots at the doorway."
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Last edited by Morthoron; 05-09-2012 at 04:55 PM.
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Old 05-09-2012, 04:46 PM   #16
Bęthberry
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Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.
In response to the Dark Elf, Bethberry knotted her hair under her chin in a faux resemblance of a beard.

"Will this do?" she giggled.

And then taking each Downer by the elbow, she guided them into the party.

"You are both probably too recently come to the Downs to know this," she whispered, stuttering on some hair in her mouth, "but Bethberry was a casuality of the rpg forum reforms."

The two looked at her as if to ask if she had already helped herself to too much party brew.

"Indeed," she said, sputtering again at the beard, "when Bethberry arrived on the Downs to rpg, her character was the daughter of Tom and Goldberry, and she was off on a grand tour of Middle-earth in hopes of finding her mother, who apparently was not around for Gandalf to visit when he returned to Tom's house at the end of Lord of the Rings."

"And was this a problem?" Glirdan inquired.

"Obviously some kind of Mary Sue character," muttered Morthoron.

"Alas, yes, gone went any characters who were actual characters in the story, or relations of them. So alas I was left with a sort of Lady of Bree character." She sniffled.

"And this party was my last attempt to foil those rules, maybe risk my PT, and return again, incognito of course--looking down at her now replaced hobbit feet--as the illustrious daughter of the enigmatic couple on the Withywindle."

She steered the threesome towards the tables of food, around the dancing, thereby giving a certain shooking appearance to be dancing with the two gentlemen at the same time.

"Those poor strange skwerls. They've lost their chance to reprimand me. I have missed the test and will remain plain Beth."
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Old 05-09-2012, 07:40 PM   #17
Morthoron
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Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Morthoron is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
Morthoron listened sympathetically as Bethberry recounted her long strange trip. It was quite a downer, even for someone on the Downs. "I've heard of 'mistaken identity'," the Dark Elf grumbled when he could finally get a word in edgewise, "but not 'taken identity'."

"Yes, it was quite a loss when my bio was confiscated by the authorities," Beth sighed. "The blood, sweat and tears I put into the backstory! It must have taken at least fifteen minutes!"

"That long?" Morthoron replied dubiously.

"I know, can you believe it?" she cried. "It was the best cigarette break I ever had! I was really inspired. Now, we have to smoke off campus."

The Dark Elf nodded and smiled, pretending he knew what Beth was talking about. "And now you are a..."

"An indiscriminate Bree woman," she mumbled sadly.

"Ah," Morthoron said uneasily.

"Go ahead, say it!" Beth demanded.

The Dark Elf bit his lip nervously and stammered, "I - I wasn't aware there were any women in Bree."

"Yes! Yes, I know! Beth shouted shrilly. "Not one damn speaking part for a woman in all of Breeland and the adjacent townships of Combe and Archet! I had to make the whole thing up."

"Hmmm...speculative fiction, interesting," Morthoron nodded, trying desperately to sound enthused by her character choice. But having failed miserably, he glanced about, looking for any convenient reason to slip away.

But since everyone was dead in the Downs, he was stuck. He glanced over at Glirdan and said, "Tell me of your homeworld, Usul."
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