2004 Barrow-Downs’ Birthday Celebration!

[Evisse the Blue]

Pausing from her feast, Evisse stood up to watch the fireworks which lighted up the night, and applauded heartily along with the rest Pio and Heren Istarion 's magical efforts. She watched them for a few minutes, almost expecting a fiendishly realistic dragon to pop out, but nothing of that sort happened, and the delight of the onlookers was long-lasting. When they at last turned to their momentarily deserted meals and drinks, it was with a happy gleam in their eyes and a smile on their faces.
Evisse started from her own firework-induced euphoria and realized she hasn't payed her respects to the venerable Wight, the one who weaved the spell around them all, the Keeper of the Mystery. Making her way towards the willow, she stopped in front of it and whispered uncertainly into the darkness: "Happy birthday to Barrow Downs, Your Wightiness!" After a moment of silence, a few questioning mumbles were heard, which she took to mean that 'Barrow downs is a place, and I am a person, well, was a person.'
"Well, yes' Evisse stammered, but you are, well, you know, the , you know.."
"yes, I am the Barrow Wight, the one and only, I know", said a self-satisfied though strangely benevolent voice. 'Now go and enjoy the party!"
"yes, you Wightiness!", Evisse replied brightly, and headed off, refraining from teasing him with allusions of him being at the Gaffer's home made brew, and thus, outstaying her welcome. The eerie voice had sounded a little slurred.

The fireworks were still dancing in the sky when she reached her own mug of delicious beer. Looking around she spotted Heren Istarion blowing rings of smoke and waved happily. She knew he wasn't going to scold her for being late, because he was in fact, himself late. And besides, nobody was much in the mood for scolding these days...Hobbits, Elves, Wizards and Orcs alike were humming 'I'll get by with a little help from the Downs', and Evisse joined in, learning the words as they came.

As she hummed and sipped her ale, she remembered she had not made a formal birthday wish, or left a mathom. And knowing that 'late is better than never', she carefully extracted from the folds of her dress a bright red coffee cup, slightly dented on a side. She gazed at it lovingly, before depositing it along with the rest.

Then she cleared her throat, climbed on a nearby tree stump for effect, and began:

We read Tolkien all night and we log on Barrows all day,
Live uns ask us 'don't you have bills to pay?'
But we got something they can't take away --
Our Barrow: obsession's here to stay,
So keep on posting, lock the real world outside,
You don't need nothing when the Barrow's online
Our dreams, our pride,
My keyboard clicks like crazy -- all night,
And there's a chance yours is too, and it's alright,
And I'll never let go, cause there's something I know deep inside....

She paused, and those who listened held their breath expectantly...To everybody's suprise but lasting delight, she took up Saucy's tune:

I'll get by with a little help from the Downs...
Everybody joined in, enthusiastically, while Evisse sighed in relief that nobody mocked her crazy birthday wish...

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Merisuwyniel listened appreciatively to the various songs and poems, especially enjoying those of The Saucepan Man. She did dearly love the gentle art of parody, especially when she recognized the original source. She wondered if she should try to write a poem or song, since the member of her company who was usually responsible for poetic efforts had not come to the party. However, she needed some inspiration, and the only thing that had inspired her to poetic effort so far was - a beautiful dress!

The very thing!, she thought, and hurried away to find Falafel with her baggage. Her gorgeous Elven gown from the hallowed boutiques of Topfloorien was in perfect condition, as always, and as she changed into the star-strewn creation in shades of blue, she had time to ponder poetically...

~*~

Merisu carried her high-heeled Manwëolos as she walked gracefully to the center of activity; an uneven field, trodden by myriads of feet, was better navigated Hobbit-style. When she reached the platform near the Barrow entrance, she slipped into the Elven sandals (Her bare feet had stayed immaculate, of course; Elven skin is dirt-repellant!), rising to an impressive height that commanded the attention of all guests nearby. Though there was none of what mortals call ´magic´in her sparkling raiment, some power dwelt in them that inspired her to raise her clear voice. The light of generations of Elven aristocracy shone in her eyes as she spoke:

Bee-Dubbya is a forum king,
and of the Downs its members sing:
A Tolkien realm that’s fair, flame-free,
With book discussions and RPG.

Some threads are long, debate is keen,
With shining reputations seen;
And countless quotes in lengthy posts
Do testify of well-read hosts.

Some threads are funny, more or less;
On others, answers must be guessed
To questions easy or riddles tough.
The posters there can’t get enough!

Some threads do deal with movie lore,
And whether the characters should have been more
Like they were in the book - more noble, less weak.
Could PJ have done better? These answers they seek.

Some threads are stories, told anew
In Shire and Rohan, Gondor too.
Many Middle-earth gamers gather there
To write the adventures their characters share.

Four years ago the forum began:
The Barrow, idea of one Tolkien fan,
Became a virtual meeting place
For many - some, even, face to face!

Long ago we surfed this way
and now we dwell here; dead, so to say,
For into darkness we fell, deep and far,
In the Barrow-Downs where the Ghost Princes are.

Lift your glasses now all, in a toast to him
Whose vision, though green, is never dim.
Happy Birthday, dear Downs, and enjoy being dead,
All you Skeletons, Wights, and especially our Head!

[Orofaniel]

The fireworks were beautiful, and all the guests looked at them with great satisfaction. The party had gone so fast, yes, even for Orofaniel and her friend Nova. They had met Firi, and together they had eaten and drank, while listening to Sausy's songs.

"It's really pretty, ain't it?" Orofaniel asked Nova and Firi. They both nodded but didn't say anything at once. They both seemed to busy and too enchanted by it; they just watched. "Mhm.." Nova said finally while smiling. "I love fireworks..." Firi added. "I've always loved it," she continued and looked down from the sky.

"Erm...I'm a bit afraid of 'em actually..." Orofaniel said seeming insecure. Firi burst into laughter and looked at Orofaniel wondering if she really was afraid of it. "What?" Oro asked her with great eyes. "You...you're scared of 'em?" Firi asked and giggled. "Well...um...only when they come too "close", if you know what I mean..." Orofaniel said and straightened her back. "You're such a wimp," Nova said suddenly, teasing her. Oro knew that Nova loved to tease her and ignored the last comment. "Pff..." She said and looked up again. “They are not going to eat you, you know…” Nova said and made a grimace.

Nova then started to laugh and Firi soon joined her. "Um..Nova, you're afraid too..." Orofaniel said mocking her. "Really?" Nova seemed surprised over her statement. "Um..sure.." Oro said and laughed.

"Anyone care for something more to drink?" Orofaniel asked the two others after a moment with silence.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman stared, horrified as she watched, as if in slow motion, the three hobbit children - two of Cami's children and that pesky Pimpernel - rugby-tackled the woman leading them to the ground. Hurrying over to Saraph, she put a hand forward to help the woman up. "I do apologise, they are rather-"

To her astonishment, the woman burst out into peals of laughter. The Innkeeper withdrew her hand slowly into her apron and looked around nervously, wondering perhaps if there was something wrong with the woman. Just as she was about to risk enquiring whether the woman was alright again (a chance to be sure - the last time had, it seemed, caused such hilarity...), when Saraph stood up, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes.

"A pint of your finest, good miss," she asked merrily. Aman decided not to question it, simply smiling politely and wondering again why she had decided to let loose the odds from all over the forum into her Inn. As she was drawing a pint though, Saraphim burst into more laughter. Aman was beginning to get rather paranoid now - what, what, what was she doing to cause such hilarity?!

"An elf! They thought I was an elf!"

Aman looked the woman up and down, taking in the flowing hair and, yes, those ears were very slightly pointed... "Well, they are quite common around here...?" she chanced.

Saraph simply gave another chortle, shaking her head and taking a sip of the pint. Aman smiled weakly and moved on as hastily as courtesy would allow, hoping to get away from this bizarre elf-that-wasn't.

~*~*~*~

Later on, Aman sat on one of the hammered-in posts outside the marquee, not far from the Present Tree, wiping her hands and watching the fireworks. Nearby, two wizards (the pair who Aman thought had devised the display) sat puffing on their pipes and commenting critically on the fireworks. She smiled across at them and Heren-Istarion tipped his hat to her politely. She grinned. So much for gruffness then...

The guards had gone in for a drink and were taking their time, gossiping near the entrance of the Inn and apparently trying to chat up Bethberry and Lush (although Aman couldn't say much for their chances - Lush looked truly stunning and the Innkeeper rather doubted there was a male in the place who hadn't noticed her. Even the orcs seemed to be taking a vague, confused interest). Behind her, in a bush, Aman heard something rustling and paused, not quite looking around, just waiting. The next firework went off, a particularly spectacular specimen, and in the applause that followed Aman heard frantic voices whispering.

"Go!"
"No, you go!"
"Pimpernel, now is not the time to get cold feet about this!"
"Whose getting cold feet? If you're so desperate, you go and put it there, Daisy Zaragamba!"
"Put it there yourself, dragon's breath!"
"Dragon's breath yerself!"

Aman whipped around, plunging a hand into the bush and grasping a collar. The bush emitted a high-pitched squeal and the collar squirmed under her grasp but the Innkeeper held on. Then she felt little teeth sink into her hand and let go with a yelp, withdrawing her hand sharply and jumping back, more in surprise than pain. Looking back at the bush just in time, Aman saw three small, dark figures emerge with the speed of a greased adder and high-tail it away. One yelled over it's shoulder as they sped away only to be silenced by another.

"Sorry, Miz! Didn't mean to-"
"Didn't mean to? You just bit the flamin' Innkeeper, Daisy! Oh, Mama is going to kill us...we're really for it now..."

[Witch_Queen]

With today being the birthday for Barrowdowns, I want to wish everyone a good day. May the next year be a good one for you and your loved ones.
Witch_Queen (Witchie)
After writing and posting her birthday greeting Witchie decided that the party was the best she had ever seen even though it seemed to her that the Party tree was full of wishes and greetings.Yeah its a birthday party and for a change I was invited. Yippey! She always wanted to have a party in a bucket but decided that this one will do just fine. Looking around she saw all her many friends. People she had come to know and love through-out her travels. Some people she hadn't even seen before but was glad to see new faces. At the sight of Bethberry Witchie had to go see her old friend. "Bethberry!" she cried at the top of her lungs. She was glad to find someone that she recognized right off the bat.

Witch_Queen proceeded to where Bethberry was at. Making sure not to interrupt someone elses conversation she kept her voice down a bit. "Hello old friend." Bethberry isn't that old. Oh just forget about it. This isn't a time to reconsider your words this is a time to celebrate. Witch_Queen was so happy to hear some one call her Witchie instead of being formal and saying Witch_Queen. She knew her arrival was late but she thought at least she could enjoy the last little bit of the party before going back to her little hole in the hill.!!!!Party!!!!

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama rode up to the gates in his full general's livery, the flowing cloak blowing out behind him and an ornately hilted sword at his waist. He dismounted, drew his bow and fired an arrow at the board. It hit home, and a note unwound from it, wishing the Barrow Downs a happy Birthday.

He looked up into the sky just in time to see a firework go off, and he smiled broadly. These shireflok were indeed a great people, never in Rohan would such a show have been put on...

[Maeggaladiel]

Lady Maeggaladiel of the Four Eyes cursed softly to herself. She was positioned on the floor in a rather unladylike pose, groping under her bed with one hand for something that could not be found. Batting aside dust bunnies the size of small Wargs, she stretched her arm as far as it would reach. Cold floor and dirty socks greeted her searching fingertips.

Suddenly she felt something cold and hard. Grinning, she grasped it and pulled it out from under the bed. Her grin melted away. This was not what she was looking for.

“How did a chainsaw get under here?” she wondered to herself. Perhaps the dust bunnies were out to get her… She made a mental note to vacuum as soon as possible. She dove back under.

Suddenly her fingers brushed what felt like a wooden box. Maeggaladiel’s head lifted quickly—BANG—and hit the frame of her bed.

“D’oh!” she yelped. Rubbing the sore spot (it had better not leave a lump), Maeg drew the wooden box from its hiding place. It was coated in dust. Maeg blew a puff of air across its lid. A white cloud of dust rose from it and settled three feet away on her party dress, lying on a chair.

“I’ll deal with you later, Dust of Evil,” she told it. She hoped that the dust bunnies heard this and were shaking in their fuzzy slippers. Pull a chainsaw on her, would they?

The box was of a dark wood, with a brass lock. Maeg closed her eyes and placed her hand on the lid. Within this box lay her greatest treasure, hidden from all other eyes and protected by an ancient spell.

“Edro, edro.” She spoke the elvish word for “Open” in her most dramatic Arwen voice. The box remained locked.

“Edro!” she commanded, less Arwen and more angry this time. “Open, stupid box!” The box was motionless. Making sure no one was watching, Maeg got a hammer and pried open the lid.

Inside, nestled among red velvet and scraps of newspaper, lay the jewel of Maeg’s collection; a pair of rose-tinted glasses. Smiling, Maeg removed her old glasses and put on the extraordinary eyewear. Everything looked pinkish. She looked in the mirror.

“Maeggaladiel of the Four Eyes, Founder of the Nearsighted Elves Foundation, is ready to PAR-TEEEEE!!” She made a disco pose.
**
Maeg edged up to the Barrow Wight’s table of presents. It was uncomfortably close to a suspicious-looking mound of earth. She couldn’t help imagining a giant green hand reaching from the barrow as she slipped her gift (a “Saruman’s Magical Manicure Set for Men, Istari, and Other Things, Living or Dead”) on the table. Then she moved towards the banquet table as quickly as she could without tripping over the hem of her rose-colored party dress. There she placed a plate of her favorite pastries, Beorn Claws, and a pitcher of Miruvor-flavored Kool-Aid among the other foods.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she sang. Fireworks exploded above her, and a variety of creatures, from an orc to a balrog to a man wearing saucepans singing songs, meandered about, talking. She looked around for someone she knew.

[Nerindel]

Nerindel remained long in the pleasant company of Mrs Bracegirdle, unable to drag herself away from the woman’s delightful anecdotes, her eyes had widened in astonishment as two hobbit children ran past, one of which unmistakably had brilliant bright green hair. An elven magic she recognised but knew was much frowned upon, as it served no relative purpose. Nevertheless, she did remark to Mrs Bracegirdle that the child’s mother would now not have a hard time spotting her daughter in the crowd.

“Unless of course she finds herself a good bush to hide in, of which in the Shire there are many.” Hilde had replied with a laugh of her own. “I only hope that it is not permanent, I do not know if the good hobbits of the Shire could get used to such an outlandish change, next thing you know they‘ll all be wanting it, can you just imagine it a rainbow of tiny bobbin heads running thought the streets!”

Nerindel laughed at the sudden image of multicolour curly heads bouncing along the four farthings shocking the quiet peaceful folks of the shire, “oh the upset!” she laughed. “But do not fear my friend like all magic it fades with the passage of time, a day perhaps two and the child hair will be as it once was.”

“Well I only hope that none of my own children get the same idea!”

“Well at least I am here to fix such a catastrophe should it could about .” she laughed, then the two sat back and stared in awe a wonderful display of fireworks that light up the evening sky.

[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