The Downie Awards Show
 

The orchestra tuned up as the audience filed in for the show. A slight commotion occurred when Astoria Baggins and Hybernia Longbottom argued about who had been saving seats for whom, but the prompt arrival of three burly Uruks silenced the argument before it went very far.

When, at last, all were seated, the band struck up a lively tune and a troupe of Dwarves began a vigorous hip-hop dance routine which ended with the Dwarves waggling their bikinied bottoms at the audience. Several Elves howled in protest but the act was otherwise well-received.

Then Mithadan took the stage. He waved happily and bowed to the audience seemingly oblivious to the fact that the predominant sound generated by the mighty throng was that of chirping crickets. Stepping up to the podium, he spoke. "Welcome to the First Downie Awards Show. Long in coming and intricately planned, our show tonite will highlight some of the noteable posters who have graced the Barrow-Downs during the past year or so. We're also here to thank the inimitable founder of this site for his hard work and dedication."

He waved at a private box near the stage from which came streams of green smoke and mist. The Barrow-Wight raised his skelatal hand in acknowledgment, to the enthusiastic cheers of the audience.

When the cheers died down, Mithadan spoke again. "In honor of the Chief Wight, our first musical guest would like to dedicate a song to BW..."

Power chords of electric blues guitar rang out and the lead singer shouted, "And away we go!"

On the day he was born,
the nurses all gathered round,
to gaze in wide wonder,
at the joy they had found.
The head nurse spoke up,
said "Leave this one alone..."
She could tell right away,
he was bad to the bone!

As the song concluded, Mithadan again stepped forward. "The first Downie tonight is the coveted Betty Crocker Jello Mold Award for the Members Who Most Enthusiatically Welcome Newcomers to the Barrow-Downs! And the winner is..." He tore open an envelope. "We have a tie! The members who most enthusiatically welcome newcomers are...Burrahobbit, Mhoram and red!"

Michael Jackson's "Bad" was played by the loudspeakers as the crowd clapped hesitantly. Mithadan continued. "Burra, Mho and red couldn't be here tonite, so accepting the award on their behalf are..." He squinted at the teleprompter, then straightened in alarm. "Gothmog and the Seven or so Balrogs."

The tall, dark and fiery spirits entered from the wings, but of course lacked any as they had all been eaten during the party. Gothmog stepped to the podium and took the three gold tombstone shaped awards. He ignored the fact that Mithadan did not try to shake his hand.

"On behalf of our three friends, Burrahobbit, Mhoram and red, all fellows near and dear to our hearts, we accept these Awards and promise many years more of appropriate welcomes to new members...and to the chefs who thought it would be funny to serve fried Balrog wings, we know who you are and where to find you..." With much snapping of whips, the Balrogs exited the stage.

"Hey Phantom, weren't you the one who started the balrog wing thing?" asked Gimli as the balrogs walked past.

"Shut up!" The Phantom whispered fiercly as he continued to applaud.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: the phantom ]

Mithadan stood backstage looking about frantically. The place was nearly deserted. "Cami! Where are all the Presenters?"

"They're all either drunk or not here yet, or..." She pointed to Helkahothion who was babbling almost incoherently. "I can't do it! I can't give out THAT award...!"

Mithadan sighed and grabbed a trophy at random. He did a double take at the inscription, then shrugged and carried it onto the stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said. "RPGs have become a popular part of the Barrow-Downs experience. But some take it a bit more...seriously than others. This next Downie Award is for one of these people. The I-can-quit-anytime-I-want-I'm-not-addicted Award for the Member Stretched Too Thin in Her RPGs is....Amanaduial the Archer!"

The audience applauded and looked around for Aman...

"Woo hoo!" Lyra got up on her feet and cheered for Aman, hoping that her theme music might be Beatles related?

She turned to Rytien and whispered "Pity we never got our food fight. I think if we start any trouble here we might get chucked out!"

"Yaaaah! Ar-cher! Ar-cher!! Ar-cher!!!" thundered the crowd expectantly.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Mithadan looked about for Aman. He realized that no music was playing and whispered into his microphone, "Cue 'Paperback Writer' by the Beatles..."

The raucous crowd continued to cheer, chanting, "Archer, Archer, she's our Aman, if she can't write it, no one can!" Then, the Beatles music blaring over the loudspeakers put the impromptu rhyming to an end.

Ainaserkewen walked into the hall walking arm in arm with Veanca, who had got off work to come to the awards with her.
"Where are we going to sit?" asked Veanca.
Ainaserkewen looked around and reconised the few sober faces that were seated. The drunk ones were still surgically removing their faces from the party floor.
Ainaserkewen giggled at this thought.
"What?" Veanca asked.
"Nothing." she said.
"Hey!" they looked over at the Phantom who was sitting away in the crowd.
"Where've you guys been all weekend?" he called.
"In Mexico!" cried Veanca.
On friday afternoon, after the whole fiasco with Reesha, who promised to be good, Veanca got off work for the weekend, after another hour of being bored at the party, Ainaserkewen said, "Wanna get outta her?" Veanca nodded. So they took Blue eyes white dragon, and headed south. It was a very romantic weekend party for two.
Veanca is perfect, thought Ainaserkewen.
They found seats near the front and Ainaserkewen excused herself to go see where she should be backstage before she presented her award.
She's perfect. Thought Veanca, and he sat back in his seat and waited for the show to move along.

Thoriel stood, clapping and cheering, and joined in with the chants of "Ar-cher Ar-cher!" all of her sleepiness forgotten in the light of the awards.

Sophia dragged her reluctant party into the auditorium. Alatariel and Thoriel were chattering among themselves about whether or not there was going to be this-and-that award and who would win it. Sophia looked frantically around the auditorium. The seats were filling up quickly. Where could she find seats for a party this big? And was she really the only one in the group that cared?

No, she thought with relief, as Annunfuiniel whispered in her ear. "Look, I see five seats up there," pointing to the second row.

"We need six!" Sophia said in despair, "I promised I'd save one for Alaklondewen." She looked around frantically, but everywhere seemed full, and people were starting to mutter about the group of people blocking their view of the stage.

Fin rolled his eyes and waved his hand with the air of someone who had everything under control. "Just ask that Balrog to move down one, I'm sure he won't mind." With no more ado he proceeded to do so. As the Balrog moved over obligingly he commented, "See, nice fellows, Balrogs." They filed into the row as uproarious applause rocked the audience with the announcement of Aman as the winner of the overstretched RPGer award.

As the applause died away they settled into their seats, Sophia between Fin and Annun, and they sat back waiting for the next presenter.

"'Where are all the presenters', indeed. Cuthalion thought, having overheard the mods talking amongst themselves. "Just because we....or at least I am not the most flamboyant member on the Downs, rrrrrr!" He was still grumbling over having read the last 8 pages of the Party thread in which he hadn't gotten to participate and thoughts of doing bodily harm to Anuion floated pleasantly through his head. Maika turned to him and looked at him quizzically. He smiled in return...and kept on thinking.

LePetit gingerly pushed open a door which led into a small room ful of random props. As she tiptoed her way across the innumerable carnival masks and wigs, a thought struck her. Wait a minute...oh fairypoop it! Of all the doors, you HAD to choose the emergency exit!
She plunged her hand into her deep pocket and retrieved a torch. A brief inspection of the room showed another door marked "Auditorium" straight ahead of her. She opened it and seamlessly joined the crowd which was chanting "Archer, Archer, she's our Aman, if she can't write it, no one can!"

Cami grinned expectently, then plopped down into a chair. She'd spent half the morning acting as the "gopher" girl for Mithadan who was already showing a few signs of being frazzled, even though the awards' ceremony had barely begun. She'd spent the rest of the morning deep in conference with Bethberry and Piosenniel, working on a few little plans of their own.

Cami had a good idea why Aman had not immediately come in to collect her award. The Green Dragon had been crowded with some good natured but raucous newcomers in recent days. Aman had been given the unenviable task of instructing them in proper methods of posting. Those who failed to respond positively had been sentenced to a stint at washing dishes, which had recently become one of the least desired chores in all of the Barrow-downs. Aman's task was to supervise the Inn, which was enough to give anyone a very large headache.

In any case, Aman certainly deserved to get such a prestigious award. The girl had a prodigious appetite for RPGs, and a genuine talent for writing. So Cami joined in with the rest of the audience who were thumping their feet and calling out Aman's name in appreciation of her skills.

The muffled sound of enthusiastic applause drilled its demanding way through the tartan alcoholic haze in which Squatter's brain was marinading.

Realising that a change might be as good as a rest, he acquired another scotch and made his way to the auditorium, its plush edges now further softened by the effects of his party-long binge. All in all it had been a successful reception and he was now in a sufficiently receptive mood to appreciate the speeches that were sure to come. Emergencies, such as on-stage point-scoring would be met with the contents of the large hip-flask in his pocket, and he supplemented this with another glass of champagne, which he piloted expertly from a tray of its fellows en route to the rows of seats.

Finding as unobtrusive a seat as possible that still afforded anything like a view of the stage, he flopped into it and sipped his bubbly delicately. He was now in the mood to applaud enthusiastically even the most lacklustre oration; and unless he should be required to stand up or say anything intelligible the evening ought to progress swimmingly.

'This will do nicely,' he mused to himself as he awaited the advent of the next award, filling in by clapping the last one despite the handicap of having missed both its category and its recipient.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]

LinGalad felt a nudge at his elbow. "This Aman must be some writer if my mom is this impressed, " said a husky voice, and LinGalad looked down in surprise at the top of a curly head. "S'cuse me." The hobbit edged past LinGalad and sat beside him. LinGalad sighed, not really wanting company, but the young hobbit did not ask his permission. LinGalad felt more motion around his knees and was astonished to see four hobbit children push past. "Can't see." "Don't shove." "What's going on?" "Stand on the seats."

"Hey, Mister Elf, can I sit on your shoulders?" asked the smallest one.

"That's Maura. He doesn't weigh much. But be careful, he's little," warned the hobbit who was apparently in charge of the four little ones. LinGalad was about to object, but the hobbit toddler was climbing up his arm. Redfaced, LinGalad sputtered a little. He had previously been hoping to be joined by some other elves, but now he changed his mind and hoped that nobody would see him with these raucous hobbits.

"ARCHER! ARCHER! SHE'S OUR AMAN!" howled the five hobbit-boys, and LinGalad winced.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Bêthberry applauded Aman's award until her hands hurt. At least the activity shook out the stiffness caused by all that writing this morning. Then, a glance at Mithadan, who was frantically pointing to his watch, suggested that he was worried the awards show would run overtime.

But she had a terrible problem. None of her awardees were present. Or had even answered any PMs. What was she to do? She decided to play for time, and cued the musicians to play another Beatles' tune, We all live in a yellow submarine.

Elentari looked up as she heard the Award ceremony begin. She now joined in with the chanting of "Ar-cher! Ar-cher! Ar-cher!", and walked over to Thoriel.

"A,an definantly deserved that award!" Elentari said to Thoriel.

"I agree," replied Thoriel. "She's always working herself so hard in the RPGs to make her posts good. Remember in Cirith Ungol?"

"My, how could I forget?" said Elentari. "And now she's doing a grand job helping me with my own game!"

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: ElentariGreenleaf ]

Aman, arriving late, attempted to quietly slip in a side door under the stage without anyone noticing her. She had been more than a little busy in the Shire, attempting to sort of a few homicidal characters and sending enough PMs to collate a small novel in the Green Dragon. As she entered quietly, she heard the first award be presented and hoped it was only the first, smiling to herself when she heard what it was for. As the balrogs descended, she looked around for a place to sit as the next one was being announced. But she had no such luck...

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she heard Mithadan announce. "RPGs have become a popular part of the Barrow-Downs experience. But some take it a bit more...seriously than others. This next Downie Award is for one of these people. The I-can-quit-anytime-I-want-I'm-not-addicted Award for the Member Stretched Too Thin in Her RPGs is....Amanaduial the Archer!"

Aman froze behind the stage, stuck between cheering and cursing.

"Ar-cher, Ar-cher, Ar-cher..." She heard from in the main part of the auditorium. She ran her hands quickly over her dress and the balance shifted to cursing. Oh, and she didn't have her speech with her..

'Paperback Writer' came on and Aman took a deep breath before coming around the stage and climbing onto it, smiling slightly nervously, butterflies doing summersaults in her stomach. Butterflies....lumpin' great swans wouldnt do these justice. She walked across the stage and took the award from Mithadan, shaking his hand, then thinking what the heck and giving him a small kiss on the lips. The crowd roared with laughter and Aman was rather relieved she couldnt see Helka anywhere nearby.

She held the award up gratefully to the private box high in the auditorium, where she accurately guessed that the Barrow-Wight sat, although she could only see tendrils of green smoke behind the glass, then turned to the rest of the auditorium. She ran her fingers through her hair, which had worked itself loose and took a deep breath, smiling as she saw Piosenniel sitting in the front row, waving a pair of cheerleading pom-poms energetically.

"Thankyou everyone for this award. I really didnt expect to receieve a Downie at all in this its first year, but hey, its always good to be appreciated!" She said, then inspected the inscription on the trophy once more and mock-frowned slightly and added, "I think.
"Thanks to everyone who has been in the RPGs I have taken part in, for being so great, and for making them all so special, every one of them, all..." She stopped, doing a quick calculation in her head. "...twenty one of them. Thanks to the moderators, especially Mithadan, Piosenniel and Child who have been so great recently, especially Pio, for lending me her beautiful Inn." She grinned at the pom-pom waving elf in the front row. "And to Marileangorifurnimaluim" Aman managed the correct pronunciation and recieved another cheer before she went on. "who, although she may not know it, got me into RPGing one year ago. Oh, and thanks also to, and from, Aman, Bhanaka, Elanor, Huina, Escara, Hreeza, Tallin, Aenara, Nariah, Arthain, Nuhrive, Kane, Raven, Tanwen, Fionel, Tafferis and Brando. Thankyou!" She kissed the trophy and went, still grinning, over to Lyra to sit in the seat next to her.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

Pio watched from behind the curtain as Aman gave her acceptance speech. Nice going, kid!’ she said giving her the thumbs-up.

She brushed the dirt from her tux as she waited for the next presenter and straightened the ties and tiara on the Wargs. ‘Get me the playlist Mithadan worked up for the presenters, my dears,’ she whispered from behind the thick red curtains. ‘There’s a possible revision I need to make.’ Her fingers felt for the disc in her inner pocket. ‘Got to love those old tunes,’ she grinned, humming softly to herself.

She peeked through the end of the curtain, spying Cami sitting in one of the seats. Pio muttered loudly, ‘What’s she doing relaxing out there? She should be back here writing that . . .’

Carchmoroth nudged the Elf’s leg as Mithadan, his eternal list in his hands of ‘things to delegate’ came into view, head bent down over the long, trailing piece of paper, quill ticking off names of who could do what.

Pio pulled the Warg behind part of the curtain’s overlap, and waited for the admin to walk on by . . .

Greycvlad figure of HerenIstarion tried to behave as everybody, but his faltering and weak claps, though out of tune and rythm, were drawned in general clamour. Terrible hangover was hammering even the wisper into his head, and the shoutings of the crowd and banging orchestra were a real torture. He was not quite sure how exactly did he spend last several days. He was not even sure there were several days in between his peaceful sleep on the sofa and the sound of orchestra, which dragged him out of alcohol misted warmth into coldness of sobriety with chilling blows of a hangover. His fogged memories showed strange images - like drinking some orkish cocktails with Uruk guards and swearing friends and promising go hunting together 'like good old times', or arguing over absurdity of wings as theological issue unto the face of Gothmog, who, luckily was rather humoured by the fact

"did I do all that? Well, I have to believe I did. And what all this clamour is about? they are giving away free tombstones? hah, sure thing - the only left for a while after death must be a tombstone. Just if anyone would be kind enough to bring me some soda or something"

He looked around for a waiter with a tray of anything reviving, haven't found any, sighed and turned to the stage again

Arafangwen entered the room in slight worry, she had PMed her recivie, but no responce so far. She decided to just find a seat and hope one of her friends would come soon to join her. There would be plenty of time for giving out the award.

Spotting an elf who seemed smothered in young hobbits, she decided he needed company and walked over to ask for a seat near him.

"Exuse me sir," she said trying sucsessfully to be heard above the crowd
"Would you mind terribly if I occupied this seat here beside you?"

LinGalad blushed again, beet-red, as Arafangwen smiled politely at him. "Certainly, gracious Lady, you are most welcome, " he said. But one of the hobbit-boys had squirmed into the seat Arafangwen had planned on taking. LinGalad groaned inwardly but there was nothing for it but to pick up the loud and squirming child and hold him. "Careful with Ban, and don't drop him," said the oldest boy. Standing to welcome the lady, LinGalad was painfully aware of Maura cheering and waving on his shoulders, and now Ban hooting and squealing in his arms. As he tried to bow he could feel Maura slipping; he caught him in time, but it was not a graceful moment.

But the seat was now empty, and LinGalad gestured to it. "Do join me please, Lady," was all he could sputter before Ban hollered again.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

A woman too plain to be an elf but dressed like one anyway sneeked in a side door with a group of three other possibly mortal figures. One, a man named Mattius suggested they sit on the floor so no one noticed them. The odd woman said that Bethberry had invited them. They discussed the matter together in a huddle, (their usual practice when faced with any dilemma) and decided to follow Mattius' suggestion. After a quick squeal when the girl known as Brinn accidentally sat on the odd woman's hair, they were soon settled together waiting to see what this great meeting should be all about.

Squirming slightly in her seat, Poppy applauded along with the rest as Aman accepted her award. Unsure as to how she made it here, when last she was aware she was comfortably asleep on a chair in the Great Hall, she diverted her attention to gazing around the crowd.

Most had sobered down by now, or at worst were nursing a hangover. Quickly glancing upwards to check no elves were swinging madly around on a chandelier, Poppy curled up in her seat and once more fell asleep for the night.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

"Oh, I hope I'm not late!" Lëowen thought, as she appeared at the back of the auditorium. The large room was filled with cheering, yelling, and clapping. Lëowen pushed through the crowd, looking for a seat.


A few minutes later, Lëowen spotted two empty chairs near the front. Sighing with relief at not having to stand through the entire awards ceremony, she rushed over and sat down in one of them.

"Thank you so much!" Arafangwen said with a stiffeled giggle at LinGalads akward antics on account of the small hobbits. Gently taking Maura from LinGalads arms Arafangwen proceded to sit in the chair offered to her.

"I have a friend named Maura!" she said as offering a piece of candy to quiet the child so she could speak to LinGalad but was immedietly jumped for more by the other three children. Relenting to the screams of "Gimme!" and "Mine! Mine! I want candy!", she gave the children a small bag of hard candies hoping they would quiet down which they did.

Arafangwen sighed with relife, though she loved children, hobbits tended to be more of a handfull in her opinion.

"So LinGalad," she said having heard the elfs name called by the small children " Were you attacked, or do you always surround yourself with such a group?" she asked with a small giggle nodding her head in the direction of the hobbits.

Annun sat down beside Sophia and glanced around contently. Their places on the second row were superb; they could see and were seen – as was the intention.

"Well, that trophy surely fell on its aim", Annun prompted archly to Sophia, referring to Aman's RPG award. Her hands felt already sore of the intense clapping. Long night ahead, she sighed. Sophia seemed to stare forth in deep thought and Annun wondered what was bothering her. She nudged her shoulder

"Hey Soph, can you guess without looking which too revellers just sat behind us?" The elf finally came round and sniffed. "Well, judging by the air those would be Squatter and H-I", she smirked and they burst into hearty laughter.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]

Eladoriel sighed.

"This is stupid. Menelien won't listen, especially now that Trippo's joined her. Grr. I'll just head off to the Award Hall, then."

Eladoriel walked off, glancing back worriedly at her friend, still dangling off the chandelier with a hippo...

"Hope she gets out of there alive!"

Suddenly, Eladoriel heard a loud crash. She turned around in a whirl of her white dress, and saw Menelien hanging off the chandelier which was now dangling six feet above the ground. Trippo was on the ground right below the chandelier.

The chandelier itself was hanging off a very long, very thin wire. Three seconds later, the wire ripped in two and Menelien joined the hippo on the ground, the chandelier lying in pieces around them.

Eladoriel rushed to her friend, and helped her up. She would have helped Trippo up as well, but she lacked the strength(no offence intended, Trippo, just true facts).

"That was SO fun! I WANNA DO IT AGAIN!" Menelien shouted.

"Umm, Menel, uh, the Award Ceremony has just started, let's get going."

"BUT I WANT TO DO IT AGAIN!"

"GOD! Menelien, listen to me. The chandelier is in pieces, you two," Said Eladoriel gesturing at the elf and the hippo beside her, "you broke it."

Menelien then seemed to snap out of it.
"Oh... What... I can see clearly again! But I'm so tired..."

"No more alcohol for you, young lady." Eladoriel said, very strictly.

"Eladoriel, you are my friend, not my mother!" Menelien replied sleepily.

Eladoriel was getting very annoyed with the pointless conversation. She grabbed Menelien's hand, and together they ran off to the big double doors at the other end of the ballroom.

"Sorry Trippo!" Eladoriel shouted across the room at the hippo struggling to get up as the two elves ran.

Finally, they arrived at the awards ceremony. Not many people filled in the long rows of seats, as most of the party attendants were still rolling around drunk somewhere in the party hall... Eladoriel had a large choice of seats to choose from, and soon she started to get dizzy. Finally, she spotted a small, cozy area.

Holding Menelien by the hand, she walked over to the spot she saw. The occupants of the area were Arafangwen, an elf she didn't recognize, and five hobbit children. The elf seemed to be struggling with two of the small children that were giving him a particularly hard time.

Eladoriel walked up, and asked "Can my friend and I join you here?"

"Oh, it was definitely an attack. A clever leading feint, " he nodded at the oldest lad, and then gestured at the young boys "followed by a quick skirmish against my flank. I assure you I was quite taken off my guard. In fact, I-- ooof!" Ban gave an especially energetic squirm, kicking LinGalad in the ribs.

"I told you to be careful with Ban, he's easy to drop!" snapped the teenage hobbit. "Give him to me right now!"

LinGalad wasted no time surrendering the child, and then shot the teenager an irritated look. But no sooner had he sighed with relief than a larger child clambered onto his lap and stood up, gazing in his face. "I'm Asta," he announced, and then turned to Arafangwen. "Hi, Elf-Lady! What's your name? You're very pretty!"

Meanwhile, another two elves approached and spoke. LinGalad glanced at Arafangwen, who smiled. "Please do join us, and welcome," LinGalad said, as Asta rattled off several more questions. LinGalad tried to think of something else to say that would be a little more elegant, but there was another hobbit-child clambering up onto his shoulders at the moment and he could think of little else. He glanced at Arafangwen beseechingly, hoping that she would cover for him and say something polite.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

'Dear Ladies', started H-I addressing Sophia and Annun 'I must confess I have a very good hearing. Not that your remark about the air was not pleasant, I flatter myself counting it as a compliment, though, in given circumstances, quite an ambivalent one. Nevertheless, let me congratulate myself and this good sir beside me with such a wonderful neighbourhood'

Hangover was passing, since Squatter was kind enough to bring beer along, and H-I was alive enough to be again in a mood to talk

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: HerenIstarion ]

Isilmë sat on the fifth row, sulking. Certainly she was very excited about the Downies, but why did the ceremony have to start exactly when she had finally (after three day's waiting!) made it on the dance-floor?


And as if this wasn't enough, she had also lost Talômi. He had insisted on finding her sister, Rie, and Isilmë had promised to reserve seats for both of them. But so far, they were nowhere to be seen. Isilmë noticed Annunfuiniel and Sophie on the second row and waved at them as cheerfully as she could.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Schmendrick ]

Aman talked quietly with a few of the people around her, including Lyra, who was alternatively congratulating her energetically and nodding her head in time to 'We All Live In A Yellow Submarine', and the hobbit Poppy, who smiled vaguely before dozing off the sleep finally.

She glanced down at the stage, then did a double take, peering at the edge of the stage. Seeing the nose of...was that a warg?...she started to reach for her dagger, before she saw a hand nearby. She grinned; ah, Pio then.

She looked at the time, and at the frantic face of Mithadan as he made his way off the stage. Standing, she began to make her way down and backstage.

"Please do join us, and welcome," the elf said.

"Thankyou, sir. And what's your name?"

The elf was about to answer, when one of the hobbit children jumped onto his lap and hit him with his fist, by accident.

"Ow..." the elf said.

Eladoriel decided not to interfere, and she just passed by the elf, the other hobbit children, and Arafangwen.

"Menelien, you sit here. Kay?"

Menelien nodded and proceeded to sit next to Arafangwen. Eladoriel took the next seat beside her friend.

She hadn't arrived a moment too late, or too early for that matter. She had arrived precisely on time. The awards ceremony began, and Mithadan started giving out awards. When he mentioned the award to Amanaduial the Archer, Eladoriel immediately began chanting with the crowd.

She looked over to Menelien, who too seemed happy at this award.

"I'm so glad Aman got the award! She helped me in my RPG so much." Eladoriel said to Menelien.

"Any idea when the next victims are coming off the tumbril, old boy?"

Squatter had been rather pleased to discover that his randomly chosen seat was next to a slightly battered Heren Istarion, and the two of them had been discussing some of the issues of the day, such as who had brought the beer. He had been vaguely aware of some sort of conversation with the people in the next row, but his concentration was divided between the stage, his companion and his drink. He accompanied his question with the flask.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]

"And a compliment it surely was, after all it came from a lady", Sophia addressed to H-I. Annun had also turned around to meet his utterance and saw Isilmë waving at her a couple of rows above. She waved back and wished there still were empty seats at their row for her.

Annun saw Squatter and H-I gulping their beers and felt suddenly thirsty. "Are we expecting a new award soon?" "Or is it time for the first recess already?", Annun wondered out loud as the 'The Yellow Submarine' broke into the air. "I could use a drink", she tipped tactfully to her companions.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]

"Certainly!" Arafangwen replied with a broad grin as her other friends joined them in their pain with the hobbit children.

"Mabey they'll keep Menelien awake." she thought to herself in amusement.

"I was wondering when you would show up, but I was quite expecting Trippo to be accompaning you." she said with a slightly dissapointed look, she had been looking forward to seeing the hippo try to squeeze into one of the auditorium seats.
Turning to LinGalad Arafangwen realized that while she had been speaking to her friends, the poor gentleman had been completly alone in is battle with the little ones. Reaching over with apologetic eyes she picked up the younger hobbits one by one and distributed them to her friends, the wildest one to Menelien thinking it fit her best, then she proceded to ask the teenaged hobbit to please take a seat and remain there as he grudgingly, yet obligingly did.

"That's better!" she said with satisfaction.

"I do belive your quite worn out already!" she said to LinGalad commenting on his frazzeled appearance. He quickly looked himself up and down in dismay.

Not wanting to bring down his spirits on such a joyfull night, she quickly assured him that he looked fine, which was mostly true.

"Do you mind?" she said as she reached over to fix his tusseled hair.

"Not at all, thank you!" he said in a grateful tone as she proceded to comb it out with an ever present pocket sized hairbrush.

"I regret to say that I must present an award later this evening so I will not be around the whole time," she said in lighthearted remorse for she was enjoying the non-drunken company.

"I will try to be around as much as possible though." she said quickly as to calm his nerves as he suddenly seemed worried with the thought of being left alone with the small horrors again.

"So are you presenting anything tonight?" she asked in her most ladylike tone.

*I likely won't be back on till tommorow, don't kill me, I still have to present an award*

Sophia giggled with Annun at HerenIstarion's aggrieved remark. As Fin turned around to see what the commotion was about the perceptive H-I remarked, "At least one of you smells like a walking hangover yourselves..."

Sophia tried her best to look angelic as Fin recounted the first drinking contest aloud. Trying to change the subject she quickly turned to Annun to ask who she thought would make the "Worst Dressed List". After consideration Sophia decided to nominate Pio's wargs, suddering at the thought of their doggy bowties.

'Dunno, really. Is there any kind of paper with a list of nominees or anything? Haven't seen any. Or should I have said, "haven't eaten any"? I'm not quite sure about my diet in the last few days. But this beer is damn good, whoever brought it. Must be good for our health. I positively feel it's healing virtues'

H-I already felt inclined to grin - quite painstaking procedure just several minutes ago.

'I would be glad to see some Bob, if you remember one. Quite a brain he had, I must assure you, and knowledge too. Some kind of "Mostly Gnawing Sharpteeth Tolkien Bookwarm" type of award would suit him well. The most educated and thinking fellow I've ever seen.But he haven't appeared for ages, alas'

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: HerenIstarion ]

Firondoiel hurried into the Awards Hall. I can't believe I'm so late! she thought. She spotted Arafangwen and hurried over to her. As she took a seat close by she saw that Menelien and Eladoriel were there as well. "Hi guys! I'm kind of late." she said with a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, we kind of noticed." Menelien replied.

"We were late as well so don't worry about it." Eladoriel said.

Firondoiel smiled and looked at Arafangwen, "How are the awards going?" she asked.

"I'm not quite sure. I haven't been here too long myself." Arafangwen replied.

Firondoiel then noticed the elf sitting next to Arafangwen with five hobbits climbing all over him. "Hi! My name is Firondoiel."

"Firondoiel, I am pleased to make your aquaintance. You are most welcome! Arafangwen, no, I am not presenting anything, Lady. Which is a good thing, since-- excepting my newly combed hair-- all presentability has quite left me," he said, ruefully, as the seven-year-old hobbit in his lap struggled for a better view of the newly arrived elves.

The teenage hobbit, relieved temporarily of responsibility, suddenly turned in his seat and sniffed. Stiffening, he looked around, and then stood in his seat and looked over the back. Behind him was the source of the aroma. Gamba watched, wide-eyed, as Squatter and HerenIstarion tossed back a steady stream of something Gamba remembered very well. It was not a pleasant memory. His stomach turned, and he grimaced, remembering the worst headache, the most violent stomach ailment, and the worst parental and authoritative wrath he had ever suffered in his entire life.

Shuddering, Gamba refocused on the stage. Good old Mithadan! Sinking deeper into his seat, he wished that the scent of the various alcoholic beverages would waft somewhere else. And then he hoped he wouldn't get sick.

Several seats over, Firondoiel, Menelian and Eladoriel were happily chatting with Arafangwen and LinGalad, and his four boys seemed to be in good hands. LinGalad turned again to Firondoiel. "What forest did you say you were from?" he asked politely, ducking as the child in his lap squirmed again.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]