The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Tol-in-Gaurhoth XXVII

Macalaure · 12-19-2006, 04:17 PM

Long Macalaure the mime stared at the abhorrent sight of his dead host and hostess, his eyes opened and his stare engrossed. "Who could have done such direful deed? Whose hearts are so dark and whose souls so rotten that they find delight in this exposed cruelty?" he thought. But then he remembered:

These are the Barrow-Downs...

It could be everybody.

He turned around to take a look at the other guests present. There was this rude person calling himself mormegil. Can anybody possibly come more untrustworthy than he? Fear stroke Macalaure's heart and with a frightened expression on his face he quickly turned to the next guest.

There was Kath, a butterfly of unmatched beauty and charm. But as she met his eyes he began to feel otherwise. No, this lady was cold and cunning and capable of everything. With an expression of discomfort he went on.

Orcs are known to be cruel beyond all measures, so Macalaure approached Farael with much caution. But his anxiety was lightened. Could an orc as fair-looking as Farael ever conceive any evil? He did not think so and an unheard sigh of relief escaped him.

Then Macalaure was shocked, for the next guest he turned to already had her gaze firmly set upon him. Rikae the Entwife stood there silently, slowly swaying her branches in the wind, observing Macalaure's every move. He was disconcerted, trying to look away but unable to. He quickly moved on, still feeling Rikae's eyes on him.

The weirdest of sights then opened up to the mime's eyes. A nice choirboy stood there and he went by the name of - Nogrod?? It was so evident, it was ridiculous: This was a wolf in choirboy's clothing. Macalaure lowered an eyebrow and gave Nogrod a stern glare. The glare was met by a cute and innocent smile, but this did not lead him astray. This Nogrod was evil and guilty.

If there was one pure being in this place it had to be Lalwendë. "Seriously," Macalaure thought, "how could a Christmas Elf ever be up to something evil?" But then it came to his mind that Christmas Elves also come to scold and punish the people who were naughty! Was she taking her duties too seriously at a place like this? Lalwendë looked at him with mild mischief and Macalaure went on unsettled.

Long he looked upon Kitanna. What kind of person and what kind of thoughts hid themselves under that bag? He was unable to find out and proceeded his round as wise as before.

"Do we not all know how these spoiled heiresses are? They have no real goal in (after-)life and find enjoyment only in expensive nothings and decadent games." he thought. He looked upon Naria with emphasised dismission and dismissive his gaze was met. He did not know whether Naria was guilty or not, but he would put nothing past her.

Macalaure smiled happily when he came past Celuien and proudly showed her the new rope tricks that she taught him before. He was about to continue credulously when suddenly a vision of his forefathers stroke him. He saw an ancestor of this Celuien lynching his own kin in times long past! Macalaure's face petrified in shock and in horror he withdrew from her.

Just at the time that he came nearer to Valier, a thought entered Macalaure's mind: "Who lit the two candles on the chandelier?" It clearly had a connection to the deaths and, unless lit by some dark force of sorcery, somebody had to fly up there to put fire to the wicks! Who else could have done this but this flighty young woman? But she looked sweet and innocent, so Macalaure went on without certainty.

Proud and rotten and grown old in his own wickedness was Vorgram, the Ancient Prince of Wargs. Only reluctantly and with greatest caution Macalaure approached him and he needn't stay long. Vorgram was evil and Macalaure most suspicious of him. He decided to closely watch him from now on - from a bit more afar.

A lighthearted and soothing voice the mime then perceived and turning to its source he saw Cailín, a robin, singing a song that would put Middle-earth's greatest nightingales to shame. Delighted and with new strength of heart he continued the last stops of his inquiry.

He came to Holbytlass, the supposedly 'funny' court jester. "Ha! Those lame groaners and corny jokes are all you have? You don't know about the fine humour of the pantomime. You don't stand a chance once I warm up!" Those were the thoughts that entered Macalaure's mind and it did not seem unlikely to him that Holbytlass herself killed hostess and host to have more material for her low kind of humour. With attached arrogance he went on.

At last he came to Folwren, the countess. She noticed him but barely reacted. Macalaure presented to her the finest of his skills, invisible ropes, invisible walls, invisible tin openers... Exhausted he bowed to her at last. The countess gave a reserved nod of approval and Macalaure smiled, slightly perplexed. A lady as stoic as this one could not possibly have caused such gruesome scene! Or could she?

Finally Macalaure rested. So many people and so many of them evil! For the rest of the dance he spent his time making gestures of deep worry and pondering.

PS: Let's not lynch the people who talk the least, but the people who actually say the least.

PPS: I somewhat agree on Farael's opinion of Folwren.

12-19-2006, 04:17 PM	#40
Macalaure Fading Fëanorion Join Date: Mar 2006 Location: into the flood again Posts: 2,911	Long Macalaure the mime stared at the abhorrent sight of his dead host and hostess, his eyes opened and his stare engrossed. "Who could have done such direful deed? Whose hearts are so dark and whose souls so rotten that they find delight in this exposed cruelty?" he thought. But then he remembered: These are the Barrow-Downs... It could be everybody. He turned around to take a look at the other guests present. There was this rude person calling himself mormegil. Can anybody possibly come more untrustworthy than he? Fear stroke Macalaure's heart and with a frightened expression on his face he quickly turned to the next guest. There was Kath, a butterfly of unmatched beauty and charm. But as she met his eyes he began to feel otherwise. No, this lady was cold and cunning and capable of everything. With an expression of discomfort he went on. Orcs are known to be cruel beyond all measures, so Macalaure approached Farael with much caution. But his anxiety was lightened. Could an orc as fair-looking as Farael ever conceive any evil? He did not think so and an unheard sigh of relief escaped him. Then Macalaure was shocked, for the next guest he turned to already had her gaze firmly set upon him. Rikae the Entwife stood there silently, slowly swaying her branches in the wind, observing Macalaure's every move. He was disconcerted, trying to look away but unable to. He quickly moved on, still feeling Rikae's eyes on him. The weirdest of sights then opened up to the mime's eyes. A nice choirboy stood there and he went by the name of - *Nogrod?? It was so evident, it was ridiculous: This was a wolf in choirboy's clothing. Macalaure* lowered an eyebrow and gave Nogrod a stern glare. The glare was met by a cute and innocent smile, but this did not lead him astray. This Nogrod was evil and guilty. If there was one pure being in this place it had to be Lalwendë. "Seriously," Macalaure thought, "how could a Christmas Elf ever be up to something evil?" But then it came to his mind that Christmas Elves also come to scold and punish the people who were naughty! Was she taking her duties too seriously at a place like this? Lalwendë looked at him with mild mischief and Macalaure went on unsettled. Long he looked upon Kitanna. What kind of person and what kind of thoughts hid themselves under that bag? He was unable to find out and proceeded his round as wise as before. "Do we not all know how these spoiled heiresses are? They have no real goal in (after-)life and find enjoyment only in expensive nothings and decadent games." he thought. He looked upon Naria with emphasised dismission and dismissive his gaze was met. He did not know whether Naria was guilty or not, but he would put nothing past her. Macalaure smiled happily when he came past Celuien and proudly showed her the new rope tricks that she taught him before. He was about to continue credulously when suddenly a vision of his forefathers stroke him. He saw an ancestor of this Celuien lynching his own kin in times long past! Macalaure's face petrified in shock and in horror he withdrew from her. Just at the time that he came nearer to Valier, a thought entered Macalaure's mind: "Who lit the two candles on the chandelier?" It clearly had a connection to the deaths and, unless lit by some dark force of sorcery, somebody had to fly up there to put fire to the wicks! Who else could have done this but this flighty young woman? But she looked sweet and innocent, so Macalaure went on without certainty. Proud and rotten and grown old in his own wickedness was Vorgram, the Ancient Prince of Wargs. Only reluctantly and with greatest caution Macalaure approached him and he needn't stay long. Vorgram was evil and Macalaure most suspicious of him. He decided to closely watch him from now on - from a bit more afar. A lighthearted and soothing voice the mime then perceived and turning to its source he saw Cailín, a robin, singing a song that would put Middle-earth's greatest nightingales to shame. Delighted and with new strength of heart he continued the last stops of his inquiry. He came to Holbytlass, the supposedly 'funny' court jester. "Ha! Those lame groaners and corny jokes are all you have? You don't know about the fine humour of the pantomime. You don't stand a chance once I warm up!" Those were the thoughts that entered Macalaure's mind and it did not seem unlikely to him that Holbytlass herself killed hostess and host to have more material for her low kind of humour. With attached arrogance he went on. At last he came to Folwren, the countess. She noticed him but barely reacted. Macalaure presented to her the finest of his skills, invisible ropes, invisible walls, invisible tin openers... Exhausted he bowed to her at last. The countess gave a reserved nod of approval and Macalaure smiled, slightly perplexed. A lady as stoic as this one could not possibly have caused such gruesome scene! Or could she? Finally Macalaure rested. So many people and so many of them evil! For the rest of the dance he spent his time making gestures of deep worry and pondering. PS: Let's not lynch the people who talk the least, but the people who actually say the least. PPS: I somewhat agree on Farael's opinion of Folwren.