2004 Barrow-Downs’ Birthday Celebration!

[Lyta_Underhill]

Lyta Underhill had great need of escape, although she lived in what she considered the most beautiful place in all of Middle Earth, a rather vast expanse past the Withywindle, where the Barrow-wight was much known and much-avoided. However, the rumors had reached Lyta's ears through the mouths of frogs and one Tom Bombadil that time, old restraints and old rules were to be broken for a celebration feast, the likes of which has not previously been seen in all of Eriador. She decided to join in honoring the Barrow-wight, for in all her years living in a rather dangerous place, he had never caused her any distress, and in fact, did her great service by keeping out random wanderers by reputation alone!

She was ready long before, having prepared a large batch of honeysuckle wine for gift and consciousness enhancement purposes. A long ago trip to Fangorn Forest had provided her with the crucial ingredient. Months it sat at the ready; days it hung on in large skins to her trusty wagon, the Internet. Somehow, she managed to skew her path slightly east on her way to this long awaited party and ended up torn and ragged from the pathless paths of the Forest next to the Green Hills. Therefore, thanks to the kindness and keen eyes of many Tooks down in Tookland, Lyta was saved from her own bad sense of direction. (She was also relieved of a good bit of her burden by the oh-so helpful Tooks). Thus, it came to be that Lyta arrived very late, with a battered wagon drawn by a scratched up (but well-tended!) pony and a rag-tag, loudly singing group of Tooks, none of whom could remember their own or anyone else's names, and all of whom seemed a bit overtall for hobbits. Lyta sang as well, but quietly, as she was very tired. A fair store of Fangorn-honeysuckle wine remained, but she had not the strength to remove it from the wagon. (Many of the Took lads had no problem with this, however!). She sat down on the edge of the party field at last, sprawled at the feet of her black and white spotted pony, herself a vision of mudstained splendor in a once-white dress shot with gold. Her crown of honeysuckle still clung to her tangled brown hair and scented the air, only partially covering the signs of her long and wavering journey through thick forested lands. "I'm finally here..." she croaked and passed out at the feet of her pony, a cup in her hand. A random drunken Took relieved her of the cup almost instantaneously.

Cheers!
Lyta

[Bêthberry]

Bêthberry, her arm draped over her long lost twin brother Iadarion's shoulder--or was it she who was long lost? who knew what that right interpretation was?-- had caught Aman's eye and noted the merriment in it at the orc's slavering over Lush. He really did not realise that here was, absolutely without question, a True Anti-Archetype, if only they could have interpreted her right. But there you have it. Orcs always doomed to be wrong.

And Bethberry had been so very pleased to see Witchie appear even at the eleventh hour of the party, so to speak. She moved to make room for Witchie so everyone could see the wonderful fireworks. Later she would offer her song of praise and thanks to the Barrow Wight but for now she was happy to enjoy the memory of the experience if not the analysis of SaucepanMan's wonderful ditties. And, yes, Bethberry did recognise the originals there, but she was a tad confused as to whether she remembered them at the time of Saucy's rendition or in restrospect. She gave up as she did not wish to break the spell of the moment. or the encorsellant.

It was difficult to appreciate the fireworks, however, much she wanted to recognise Others here, for she found herself rather too close to the firey balrog Mr. Hedgethistle, whose light and fire quite flared at times and out shone the fireworks themselves, expertly prepared by Piosenniel, Ancalimon and HerenIstarion. She coughed to clear her throat and raised her hands to cover her eyes as she turned to towards the flashing space of nothingness with the booming voice. She wondered what he might have to say to her, a denisen of Middle earth almost as old as he.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordim was delighted to find himself standing next to the ancient and reverend figure of Bêthberry. It had been many an Age since they had spoken face to face – in fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure that they had ever really met face to face (if he even had a face…).

Shrugging his wings(?) against the doubt and uncertainty that was now a part of his existence, Fordim bowed deeply to the reverend woman, and asked if she were enjoying the fireworks. She returned his bow with an elegant curtsy, but when she arose her face was one of deep meditation. “To be honest,” she said slowly, “I’m not sure how I feel about the fireworks. I mean, they are pretty, but the implications of my pleasure – or, rather, my implication into a network of desire, should I validate them through an interpretative act, well, it’s rather a tricky moment don’t you agree?”

Fordim’s own brow furrowed (if he even had a brow) and his wings(?) rustled slightly. “Yes yes,” he replied slowly, “I do understand what you are saying. I myself have been attempting to determine whether the fireworks are ‘merely’ pleasurable or if they are connected to me by some more necessary means. I mean, they are from the West, after all, so are they more real than the fireworks I’ve seen in this Midde-earth, or do they share the same reality as this realm?”

Bêthberry shook her wise head and began to quote from some learned men and women of old with whom Fordim had but a passing acquaintance. He looked polite and nodded in what he hoped were the right places. Bethberry saw that she was losing him and gave him a grandmotherly smile, patting his hand (very) lightly. “Oh well,” she said, “I suppose, in the end, it doesn’t really matter…does it?”

“I certainly hope not,” Fordim replied, noncommittally. Bethberry saw the book in Fordim’s vast shadowy ‘hand’ – The Lord of the Rings.

“Oh,” she said with delight, “Do you like that book?”

Fordim grinned and a renewed flame ran up his back with pleasure. “Oh yes, very much indeed. It’s positively enchanting.”

“Well, that’s good,” she replied, and they both turned to watch the fireworks.

[piosenniel]

It was at this point that a small stray rocket, launched from an unfortunately overturned wine bottle, found its way hissing and zinging toward the ancient pair as they perused the leaves of a mildly scorched book.

To the dark, smoky Flame-of-Udun boy it was naught but a small fiery midge to be flicked away with a flaming thump of finger and thumb. But as misfortune would have it, a stray ember or two found purchase on the cloth of Bethberry's gown. And she swatted at then to put them out.

The Hobbiton brigade of the Volunteer Fire Department ran lickety-split to throw a bucket of water on the burning lady - her own efforts inneffective in the face of Fordim's attempt to help her with swats from his own flaming hands.

'Stand back, if you please Master Balrog!' cried Hamfast Greenburrow. 'You're turning our efforts all to steam!' The embers were put out at last - the damage minimal.

Hamfast, as he had been directed, followed the scorched landing path of the rocket and brought it back to Pio.

'It's one of those Acme Absolute Rockets,' said the Elf, peering closely at the charred cylinder. 'On of those that reflect well against the dark night sky.'

'Shouldn't a' really burned her then, should it?' commented Hamfast, who was well known at the Green Dragon for his deep thinking, deep pockets, and the ability to hold his ale.

'Shouldn't have burned her?' echoed Pio, waving the still smoking missile under the Hobbit's nose.

'All smoke and mirrors it is,' said Hamfast, taking hold of the errant rocket. 'It's like this, Mistress Piosenniel . . .'

But before he could enlighten her, the cry of 'Buckets Here!' rang out and he scrambled off to a a nearby forsythia into which one of the candle lanterns from an overhanging tree had dropped . . . leaving Pio to wonder what he had meant by his metaphor . . .

[Ainaserkewen]

Knowing full well the lateness of this partygoer to be…he thought it would be wasteful to show up discreetly. So when the sun finally set on the seemingly endless day, and the fireworks exploded in the mess of blue and black sky, was the time when our latecomer decided it was finally time to try out…er, arrive at this event.

Never before had such a sound been heard in the quiet hills of the west. All the guests who had previously arrived could identify something familiar in the far off music that could be heard. But there was something strangely¾ well, strange.

“Is that a cat?” Someone’s voice rose above the mess of sounds that competed with the light display.

However, he was only 1 in 30 right. Unimaginable, crazy, absurd; some said. Rolling up, over the hill came a carriage. Nothing unusual about the carriage itself, though it looked quite expensive. But what was drawing the carriage. Not a horse, or pony, but dozens of cats! Black cats, orange tabbies, white ones, and brown ones. The lot were all different.

“Is there no end!?” Another voice called.

The whole vehicle, along with the cats’ steps vibrated with the unmistakable sound of “A shortcut to Mushrooms” from the Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack playing at full volume, bass pounding. A few guests nodded in agreement with the music selection and wondered who in Middle-Earth had a cat-drawn carriage.

Who indeed, was this stranger who stepped from the now still coach? Tall he stood, and stocky in an unusually coloured floor-length trench coat. Hardly Middle-Earth fashion. But something didn’t seem right. This man (for he so obviously was) seemed too tall, especially when he crossed the gate and the others saw his cheery face. He looked like a Hobbit! His face was round, brown and creased, but he was at least seven feet tall! Who in the wide-world-known was this!?

He smiled at all who looked but gave no name except “Mr. Big”. His walk was odd as he made his way through the crowds towards the food table, pausing briefly to catch his balance. People noticed his feet were bare and hairy, like a Hobbit’s should be. Also, he seemed to bend in odd places when he swayed, and shuffled a lot. He could barely walk. Some murmured that he must have gotten into his own supply of ale before he arrived.

“Walk straight!” Came a loud whisper. The stranger looked up in alarm to see if anyone had heard.

“If we had practiced this…” he muttered under his breath, and his odd hat.

“Excuse me?” The hobbit closest to him asked, figuring that this tall, foreboding character was addressing him.

The man looked surprised. “No, sorry, just talking to myself.” Then came a sound of impact and a grown from the man’s middle region.

“What was that?” The Hobbit asked.

“Nothing….just my uh…stomach growling. I need some food.”

And with that, he stumbled off into the grass, tripped and fell. All were surprised in what they saw. The trench coat had unbuttoned and come apart and instead of just one falling, three fell out of the coat when they toppled. Three Hobbits, all looking very red and embarrassed.

“Uh…hello all.” They said nervously in chorus.

[Arestevana]

“Of course you won’t be a bother!” Arestevana told Kitanna. “It will be delightful to talk.” At that moment Symestreem handed them a piece of paper. Scanning the paper quickly over Kitanna’s shoulder, Arestevana chose to answer the last question first. “I’m not sure if I can read lips,” she said. “But I am willing to give it a try.” She added, smiling.

Symestreem smiled back, then, noticing the band that had just begun to play, she pointed, mouthing: music! The trio hurried over to be closer to the band. As they walked, they discussed various things, and Arestevana responded to the other question Symestreem had posed: the one about the nature of her instrument. “It is called a dulcimer; it was made in Rohan by a minstrel of King Eomer.” She said. They had reached the edge of a crowd gathered around the band, and they listened in delight as the buoyant music made the air around them tremble.

When the music performance drew to a close, the crowd began to move to another part of the field, where a fireworks display had begun. Arestevana remained where she was, wondering what her new acquaintances would choose to do. It had been wonderful talking to them, and she was reluctant to part company just yet. Also, it seemed as if one of the others was about to speak. She turned to see who it was, listening attentively.

[Novnarwen]

Nova's eyes lit up as she saw the beautiful fireworks. Firi was just as caught up in the whole event as herself, and they kept their eyes at the dark sky. Oro, who claimed to be afraid, asked them if she should get them some drinks. They waved her off, Nova suggesting non-alcohol, since she was underage. Oro laughed. "Seriously, no alcohol, no fun!" she said, giggling. Nova heard the irony and waved her off once more, before turning her attention to the fireworks again.

As her neck was starting to get stiff by the whole 'look-up-into-the-sky-thing', Nova turned to Firi.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" Nova exclaimed. Firi nodded. "My neck is stiff, though," Nova added with a grimace. Firi laughed. "Mine too."

"Where is Oro?"

Nova suddenly remembered that Oro had gone for a drink, but she hadn't returned. Maybe she was too afraid to come back, Nova thought, soon realising how sick that really was. She shook her head, thinking.

"Maybe she ran into someone," Firi suggested, after a while.

"That's possible . . . " Nova muttered. "But who?"

"I dunno. Someone she knows?!" Firi said.

"Oh, right. Someone she knows."

They settled down on a bench, not far away. Nova tried to get a glimpse of Oro, but she couldn't see her anywhere. It was quite dark though, so Nova stopped putting her effort in trying to find her friend. Nova glanced over at the Party Tree. When she thought about it, it had been quite brutal to nail Birthday Greetings into the tree. What kind of Greeting was that:' Happy Birthday, here is a note, which I am going to nail to your trunk?' Poor tree, it wasn't his or hers birthday; it was the Barrow downs' Birthday, but still the Tree was the one getting nailed. Nova realised that this too was a sick thought. What was wrong with her?

"So, did you nail a Birthday Greeting at the Tree?" Nova asked, coughing when she said the word 'nail'.

Nova didn't hear Firi's answer, as something else grabbed her attention. There, just a few paces away, was Orofaniel with drinks and . . . . . HER MUSHROOMS! Nova gasped, taking her hand to her mouth. "NOOO!!" she shrieked, pulling herself up from the bench. In slow-motion she ran, with huge steps, towards her best friend. Orofaniel, who was taken by surprise to see her friend coming straight at her, stood with her mouth open; drinks in both hands and about to push the mushroom into her mouth, helping herself with one of her hands of which she also held a drink.

"Doooooooooooon't!" Nova shouted.

Nova cast herself in front of Orofaniel, grabbing the mushroom (of which she only got the half, since Orofaniel already had it halfway down her throat). Orofaniel lost her balance and fell to the ground and landed just beside Nova.

"What do you think you are doing?" Orofaniel exclaimed, examining her Elven Cloak. Luckily, she hadn't spilled the liquid on her Cloak. Nova breathed heavily.

"The MUSHROOM!" Nova said, being hushed at by Firi, who had arrived. Nova lowered her voice.

"Spit it out!" she ordered.

"No!" Oro said stubbornly, rising.

"I'm warning you! It's for your own good!"

"HA! You're just jealous I didn't get you a mushroom!"

Firi grew red.

"Just do as I say!" Nova ordered, not being able to control her temperament.

"I won't . . I'm not a child. I eat what I want to eat, and I shouldn’t ask you to approve of it first," Oro said, offensively.

"Okay, listen to me! It's MY MUSHROOM!"

"HA! Just what I thought. It's mine. I brought it, and I eat it," she said, still having the mushroom in her mouth, not certain whether to swallow or not.

"No, I mean it! It's MY mushroom! I made 'em," Nova said, giving Orofaniel an evil stare.

"Oh, is it?"

Nova nodded.

"Oh MY! Why didn't you say so?" Oro made a grimace, showing how displeased she was by the fact that Nova had ‘prepared’ mushrooms and brought it to the party. She looked innocently at Nova before turning away, spitting it out.

"That was close," Nova said, sighing.

"You should have put a warning up. And, you can't bring those things to parties. People aren't supposed to get HURT!"

Nova turned reddish, trying to avoid Orofaniel's piercing look.

"I had to bring something."

" . . . . .But MUSHROOMS Nova! Everyone eats them. You could have damaged these people for live, maybe even taken their lives!"


Firi giggled.

" . . . Mushrooms . . . " Orofaniel muttered, as they decided to get some new drinks.

[Orofaniel]

When Orofaniel finally had gotten to her feet and offered the others a drink, as she'd already done earlier, she started to examine her elven cloak once again. "Why did you have to attack me like that?" Orofaniel asked Nova, when she first looked up. "Um..Did I? I mean, attack you?" Nova asked innocently. "Yeah, you did," Orofaniel answered, now looking down on her cloak again. Luckily it was undamaged, but the thought of it made her shiver. What if there had been a hole in it? She didn't even dear think about it.

"Why couldn't I taste the mushroom?" Oro asked, even though she knew that Nova had already defended her actions, which seemed reasonable at some point. Nova denying Oro mushrooms, however, wasn't actually a nice thing to do. "I already told you," Nova said and grabbed a drink as they now had reached the table where they served all sorts of drinks. "Yeah, but, you tasted my cookies!" Orofaniel exclaimed, even though she knew that cookies were quite different from mushrooms.

It was if as Nova read her thoughts; "Cookies are way different, Oro, and you know that," She replied. Firondoiel that were still with them nodded. "Your cookies were good, Oro," She said and smiled. "When it comes to Nova's mushrooms...it's a whole another dimension," She said and looked at Nova.

"Alright, I get it.." Orofaniel said and smiled. "Yuo wanted to protect me from your mushrooms because you love me..and you want me alive," Orofaniel said teasingly. "Sure," Nova replied with the slight of sarcasm. Firi just giggled.

The elven cloak hadn't been damaged at least, which was a good thing. While they seated with their drinks, Oro thought about the whole scene. Nova had looked like Gollum there for a minute; running towards her, screaming that it was her mushroom. The similarities with "My Precious" were extreme, or so Orofaniel thought at the moment. She looked over at Nova, who was now paying attention to one of the stages; she looked awfully a lot like Gollum as well; she had those big eyes, and...um.., yes, little hair on her head, (Maybe that was a bit drastic). She was very skinny, just like Gollum. Orofaniel shuddered, but sipped her drink and enjoyed it to the fullest.

[Firondoiel]

Firi was greatly enjoying her conversation and the fireworks with Oro and Nova. The night sky was filled with the bright and beautiful colours of the spectacular extravaganza. Cheers filled the air after each one sailed up then suddenly exploded.

After rubbing her neck, Firi turned to her friends, who were still standing by the mushrooms, and said, “Alas, I must leave you now and return to my group. Please come by if you get a chance!” With that she gave them both a hug and hurried back towards the pavilion. She stopped on the way to put a small parcel for the Barrow-Wight on the table with all the others.

“There you are!” cried Ala when she caught sight of Firi. “We wondered where you had gotten yourself to.”

“I spent some time with two dear friends but have now returned to your excellent, dear, and lofty company.” Replied Firi with a grin.

“Very kind of you.” Said Elbie, smiling as well. Firi laughed and sat down next to Leo. “Where are Keld and Éowyn?” she asked.

“Keld left awhile ago to put her best wishes on the Party Tree and Éowyn wandered off somewhere.” Said Ala.

“I do hope they return soon.” Said Firi, looking down while everyone else was looking up at the fireworks. Perhaps she would watch them some more later after her neck stopped hurting.

[Imladris]

I snapped my fingers and looked hastily into my basket. Ah yes, the note was still there. I heaved a sigh of relief and began to wade through the people to the big Party Tree. Unfolding the note, I read it through once, just to make sure it didn't have any embarrassing typos -- I mean, misspelled words in it.

Dear Barrow-wight Sir!

I would like to thank you for this most excellent, most bodacious website. The mods are great, the discussions get deep... So three cheers for the most triumphant Tolkien website ever!

So I leave this party with these parting words,

Be excellent to each other and party on, **** [Censored for an unseemly show of modern slang.]

I glowered as the starred censored markings began to replace my original word, and then pointed surreptitiously to my signature.

[symestreem]

Symestreem listened as Arestevana explained about her instrument, seemingly called a dulcimer. Then the band played, and she applauded with the others. When she heard the cheering, a shadow crossed her face, but then she brightened, scribbled something on a note and threw it on stage. None of the band members saw it, but when it was found by the cleaning crew the next day they were mystified by a note simply reading: Yea!!!!!!!!.
She jumped as fireworks started exploding over the field, then relaxed as she recognized them. We had those back home once, she scrawled. The consensus among the group seemed to be to stay where they were, which was fine with her. We have a good view from here anyway, she mouthed slowly and carefully. Then she wrote it on a piece of paper to be safe.
They were right next to the buffet tables, and the temptation was too great. After perusing the comestibles, she snagged a pizza to share with the others, hoping they didn't mind garlic. The mute fiddler returned to her seat as a particularly vibrant firework exploded and Kitanna started to speak.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami had been enjoying herself immensely at the party. Merimac and the older boys had sent their last minute regrets, while the younger trio had managed to run off searching for fun on their own. For the rest of the afternoon and evening, she had been free to wander, waving her hand in greeting to a number of friends, some of whom she'd known for years and others she'd recently met.

Bethberry had been there and also Witchie . The latter, she conjectured, must have earned some time off from Marcho on the arduous march they were making towards Michel Delving. Cami was especially pleased to see Lyta Underhill pulling up with a whole passel of Tooks in tow. For some time, she had been coaxing Lyta to step into the Green Dragon and have a flagon of ale. Lyta had indeed made it to the Shire, but had apparently done a bit of tippling on the road even prior to her arrival at the party field! Even the less reputable in the crowd such as the Orc and Balrog, both of whom looked vaguely familiar from one tale or another, had been on their best behavior.

Cami beamed happily as her three children came bounding up; Daisy and Rory were talking so quickly that she could barely understand a word they were saying, "Oh, Ima, it was all so scary! We were just looking at it. We really were! And the great men guarding the table wouldn't let us put it back. We were afraid the Green Man would eat us, and then a giant Elf nearly put us in jail, but Ancalimon came and rescued us from a tree!"

Cami could not understand a word of this. Like most good mothers, Cami assumed her children were taking everyday happenings and embroidering them a bit to make an interesting presentation for her personal benefit. She patted Rory's curly tresses and confided, "That's nice dears. I'm glad you had fun. Now you did behave, didn't you? Just like I said?"

Daisy turned innocent eyes up towards her mother and smiled. "For sure, Ima, just like you said." Rory eagerly nodded his head.

At the exact moment of that exchange, Aman happened to stroll by. Cami ran over to extend her greetings, but by the time she got there she found the Innkeeper keeling over in laughter, totally unable to respond.

Was it something I did or said? Cami wondered, as she watched Aman go off in the distance, holding her sides to keep from splitting. Cami noticed that one of the Innkeeper's hands was apparently banadaged; she wondered what misfortune had befallen her on this festive night.