[Formendacil]

Okay, this sounds like fun...

Now, I could never host a party in real life, having (for my own physical territory) a bedroom that would not FIT ten people, let alone do it comfortably. Of course, I'm also hampered by a general inability to invite people to things in the first place, but let's assume that's not the case.

Of course, I still have the problem of inviting five Downers. It's like taking five random names out of a phonebook. I hardly know any of you people. The middle-earthians, Valinoreans, and Numenorians are, of course, all dearly-beloved old friends. The question there is not who to invite, but who NOT to invite. Five is a pretty small number after all...

Okay, for starters, there's me, sitting at the head (or is the the foot, I can't tell) of the table, which is conveniently located somewhere in Never-Neverland, where people from Middle-earth and the Downs can easily access it..

Seated to my left is Bombur, who is perhaps the only Dwarf whose personality seems closer to that of a Hobbit. And who will do a fine job of making me look tall and fit (although I'm neither fat, short, nor lazy, I'm not the finest specimen of humankind this side of the South Saskatchewan).

Seated next to Bombur is the second of the obligatory Downers (myself being, of course, the first). Let's hear a big round of applause for the Phantom, invited for his excellent taste in music (Let's hear it for the Phantom of the Opera, perhaps my favourite of music...) The Phantom has also been invited for his general ability to act intelligent and witty (although I am well-possessed of those attributes myself, if I may allow my ego to shine through momentarily...)

Next to the Phantom is another Downer. Please welcome Lalwende, who was actually invited for no other reason than that I wanted to get the Bilbo avatar image out of my head. Although all the indications are that she's another intelligent guest who would actually add to the conversation, and not wear it out. Besides, I had to make sure I got a lady in somehow...

Next to Lalwende is Lord Celeborn, who is currently baching it in the old family home, his wife and daughter having already moved into their new residence in Eressia. Rumour has it he's a charming dinner companion, and he was also willing to bring some miruvor, which he has exclusive access to in Middle-earth since house-sitting for his half-elven son-in-law.

At the foot (or head) of the table is seated, on a booster seat, the physically unimposing, but always very charming, Bilbo Baggins. As the Hobbit who first hooked me on Middle-earth, this is my thank-you (and a concession to Lalwende, to make sure she showed up). Besides, he offered to bring a bottle or four of the Old Winyards.

We now move onto the other side of the table, where we meet another Downer. I don't think it is necessary to introduce him, as I'm sure you all know the one and only (thank goodness!) SaucepanMan. While the invitation will state that he was invited for his wit and good company, the fact is that the caterers (Barliman Butterbur and the staff of the Prancing Pony) forgot about cooking utensils (something about things wanted, always buried...), and as such, we need the SaucepanMan's saucepans. We considered inviting Sam, but then we would have had to invite Rosie, and Sam's pans are only hobbit-sized anyway.

Of course, SpM may well have use of his pans in other areas, considering that the person next to him is none other than the Mouth of Sauron. Quite apart from possessing horrid table manners which will require repeated banging with pans, he seems the sort of person that is fun to bang around in any case. Actually, the invitation was sent to OCCUPANT, Gorgoroth Lane, Mordor, as a diversion to get Sauron out of the house while a couple of pranksters snuck in and put some explosives in his decorative volcano out back. Sauron declined the invitation, more or less as expected, citing something about being incorporeal, but sent his Mouth in his place. This caught us off guard, and we were forced to forget about inviting Tom Bombadil. As of yet, no one has complained that strenuously...

To counterbalance the gloominess of the Mouth, it was decided to seat our last Downer, Boromir88 to his other side. This guest seems capable of providing enough levity to counterbalance the Mouth, and is tactful enough not to comment too harshly on his right-hand seating partner.

Lastly, on Boromir88's left hand, we have our final guest. Serving as bouncer-cum-dessert baker, we have Grimbeorn the Old. Grimbeorn wasn't invited so much for his conversational or social skills (how much does a bear have, anyway?), but he's said to bake the meanest honey-cake in the Wilderland, and we have it on the highest word (that of the redoubtable Samwise Gamgee) that Lembas gets old really fast.

Well, there you have it. My dinner party. Precisely what dinner will be I can't say. That's up to the caterers. Fortunately, with Old Vinyards, honeycakes, and miruvor, even if Butterbur and crew can't turn out anything edibile with SpM's saucepans, it should still be a memorable party.

Here's hoping that it's enough of a success that I am able to invite people to another, knowing that they'll come.

*Raises glass. Drains glass. Looks for Old Vinyards bottle...*