2004 Barrow-Downs’ Birthday Celebration!

[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.

[Kransha]

A lot happened in the next few moments, one of those happenings being the shock and awe inspired by a misfired rocket, one of the many sparkling beauties that illuminated the sky just a few moments prior. Kransha had been conversing politely with Roa while his Balrog counterpart engaged in discourse with Bethberry, another renowned figure at the party. Kransha, already a bit unsettled by the rocket, discontinued his conversation as he eyed a gleaming shard of sterling silver that was his pocket watch. He lifted it by a delicate, precisely forged chain and eyed the ticking, rhythmically moving hands of the thing, which rotated around a tiny picture of the Eye of Sauron (standard issue pocket watch for Gorgoroth Community Serviceorcs). He bit his lip nervously and kept taking nervous glances at the far off gates of the Party Field,

“Is something troubling you, Kransha?” bellowed Fordim, not meaning to bellow but bellowing anyway.

“Fordim, something burdens me.” Replied Kransha, not looking at his quizzical friend and instead keeping his orc gaze fixed, “I have a bit of a secret which I’m not to wont to reveal, much to my shame. But, as that time draws near, I think I must do just that. By the Eye, Fordim, I really must tell someone. I need to find someone of authority. If you’ll excuse me.”

Before either Fordim or Roa could say anything, the well-postured orc headed off towards the most authoritative figure he could see, one of the people in charge, as far as he knew, Piosenniel. She was obviously busy, but he’d expected that. As much as his problem seemed trivial, he really felt it necessary to make it clear that there was not going to be a sudden incursion into the Shire by Sauron’s leftover hordes. Nervously and carefully, he gained the elf’s attention with a curt tug to the sleeve.

“Mistress Piosenniel, ma’am, forgive the disturbance, but there’s something I really need to get off my chest…or back…or what you will.”

“You should know, madam…Yes, you really should know…After I took in these festivities, it came to my attention that I was the only member of my demographic present at this little gala, so I took the liberty of extending a few invitations…invitations to members of that demographic…mine, that is…Point in fact, they should be coming along any time now, since they remarked to me that they’d be here roughly 13 hours and 26 minutes ago, have a record of being exactly 13 hours and 28 minutes late…as orcs always are. I really do hope the Wight doesn’t mind the presence of my cousins (you see, I’m not entirely sure they are my cousins, but you can never tell). It’s just a few orcs…20 or so, perhaps…I’ll keep them from getting in the way, I assure you. In fact, I’ve heard that the great Wight has lost one of the mathoms presented him…I’m sure my cousins would jump at the opportunity to help you with the finding of the responsible knave or knavette…They have very good noses for that sort of thing. If you wish, or the Wight wishes, I will send them on their merry way…I admit, I have not the courage to face him, the Barrow Wight, that is. Some very bad rumors about our friend populate the Cirith Ungol gossip column. I would have addressed him personally, but…well, you know.”

As if on cue, a sound could be heard in the distance. Though muffled by crowd noises, it was very distinct, and sounded like a mixture of metallic screeching, raucous laughter, and Kransha’s all-too-familiar belching. Flitting in shadowy form through the crowd, dark figures in a huddled mass could be seen scurrying mysteriously past some cowering and/or cringing Halflings. Kransha sighed and took a full breath, which echoed in his orc gizzard, as he saw the other uruks putter along toward him and Piosenniel.

“Oh yes, that’ll be them right now.”

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Hilde tried to imagine her sweet children’s hair all the luminous colors of the fireworks she watched, brilliant reds, and greens, cool blues and crackling gold. They might look quite nice as long as it wasn’t permanent, she thought yawning. Good to know though, that there were folk about who could undo such things incase a hobbit’s hair proved a more stubborn type.

“I do apologize,” Hilde said. “It has been a long day and the fresh air and good food it seems has taken its toll. No reflection on your delightful company! You see my husband has nodded off already,” she said pointing to a stocky hobbit asleep propped up by an even stouter tree, and snoring rather loudly.

“Ah! What is happening over there?” Nerindel said turning to face up hill, as her keen eyes followed a misfired rocket. A small burst of flame was followed by overwhelming shadow and more fire, until Hilde saw the stalwart SVF (the heroes of Hobbiton) arrive with buckets of water to douse the blaze. “If I am not mistaken there is a Balrog on The Hill!” the elf observed. Both women shuttered.

“You never know who might show up at these parties with open invitations, now do you!” Hilde remarked. “Especially one where the guest of honor hold such a reputation.” she said with a wink.

[Kitanna]

"Nothing like garlic to chase the blues away." Kitanna joked taking the pizza fromSymestreem. She munched silently and watched the fireworks with Symestreem and Arestevana.

After finished her bit of pizza Kitanna turned to the other two smily broadly. "I always loved fireworks." She stated, looking up as another one was set off. "There's something about them that seems to magical."

Kitanna looked back at Symestreem and Arestevana. "So, Arestevana you are from Rohan? I was born and raised there myself, lovely country." Kitanna sighed and fell silent for a moment. "And you, Symestream, are you a musician?"

[Orual]

"I've been all right," Orual said, running her hands absently through her hair. They came away a splotchy red, and she groaned. Curse all cheap temporary hair colour! Nuranar leaned over to look at the newly crimson hands and laughed.

"Henna?" she asked.

"Henna," Orual replied miserably. She looked up at her friend and finally cracked a smile. "I was too cheap and too scared to go with the permanent stuff. I thought it might be nice to have red hair for the party. I even used the sealant...but it didn't take, I can only assume."

She looked around and surrepitously wiped her hands on the seat of her breeches, then pulled her tunic over it. When she looked up, quite pleased with herself, Nuranar was glancing at her with one eyebrow raised. Orual shrugged innocently. "What?"

[symestreem]

Symestreem had long ago learned one of the advantages of being mute: you didn't have to chew your food before you talked. She took another bite of pizza and wrote,
Yes, I carry the fiddle with me but I also play the pipe and the accordian. I once played something called a 'piano', but I've never seen another one. Have either of you ever heard of it?
While they read this, she went to go grab more pizza. A short young woman was standing by the tables, apparently having a pizza-eating contest with herself. On a hunch, symestreem tapped the woman on the shoulder.
Excuse me, she wrote, but are you Eowyn Skywalker? I've been looking for you. Someone told me you knew songs from another galaxy. Then she added, You can come sit with us if you want, but I'm not sure if we'd be more engaging company than the pizza. Which is quite good, by the way. Then she handed the note to Eowyn Skywalker with a smile and a wave and headed back to her nearby table (with more pizza, of course, and some drinks that she snagged along the way!)

[Arestevana]

“So, Arestevana you are from Rohan? I was born and raised there myself, lovely country.” Arestevana winced as Kitanna spoke. Luckily, she was spared answering a moment as a second question was directed towards Symestreem. Remembering Kitanna’s earlier observation, Areste took a bite of pizza, wincing as the strong garlic flavor overcame her. It did allay her melancholy, though, at least temporarily. She swallowed and turned her mind to a suitable reply.

“I was born and raised in Rohan, yes,” she said. “Though, my parents dwelt for most of their lives in Rivendell, the haven of our people.” She stumbled in the confused silence elicited by this statement, and quickly filled her mouth with another bite of pizza. Was it truly that uncommon for an elf to be raised by mortals? “Please, tell us more about yourself, Symestreem,” said Arestevana hurriedly. “As Kitanna asked, are you a musician?”

[Ithaeliel]

"Excuse me... sir, may I try a half-pint of sweet ale, please? I've never tried it before."

The bartender looked up from what he was doing with a shocked expression. "Well, bless me buttons, Lady, whatever have you been doing your whole life? I mean, well... you're an elf! You've had quite a while to try ale before now, that you have!"

Ithaeliel sighed deeply. "Rather, I'm younger than you may seem to realize, sir. I am only sixty-three years of age; I've not yet the wisdom or the graces of most other elves you may know. I've only drank miruvor before, and there'll be none of that in the Shire, to be sure."

"Miruvor?" the bartender passed Ith her half-pint. "I've barely heard of it. It's elf-wine, isn't it? What's it made of?"

"I've no idea," Ithaeliel replied gloomily before taking a rather undainty swig of ale. She licked the foam off her lips thoughtfully. "This is good stuff, sir. I commend you and those who made it."

"Why, thank ye, m'lady. Do come back for another!" the bartender called as Ithaeliel finished off the glass and went to watch the fireworks spectular.

The entire crowd gasped with awe and glee as a blue cracker shot off into the sky, exploding into thousands of individual blue lights and creating the most starry sky that ever they had seen before bursting and whistling joyfully, showering the guests with blue sparks.

Ithaeliel was laughing amazedly at the fantastic display before she heard a familiar voice shouting nearby. She turned around to see none other than...

"Amanaduial!" Ith cried out as she ran to greet her old friend. "Aman!"

The innkeeper turned around, wringing one hand for some reason and looking irritated. She smiled a little when she saw Ithaeliel. "Oh, hello, Ith! Good to see you!"

Ithaeliel smiled back. "How are things faring for you, dear?"

Aman scowled. "Busy. I've just been looking after some hobbit children... causing quite a lot of mischief, they are. One even bit my hand a minute ago. Goodness, though, they ran off too quickly for me to do a thing!"

"Kids these days..." Ith shook her head in disdain. "Aren't the fireworks wonderful tonight? I never knew Mithrandir could put on such a display!"

[Nerindel]

The two women the elf and the hobbit shared a spirited laugh, which halted abruptly at the sight that presented itself before them. For several moment Nerindel just sat and stared her eyes wide and her mouth hung open in silent disbelief, As a rabble of orc's pushed their way through the crowded party field their mere presence terrifying local's and guests alike.

Suddenly Nerindel's ancient hatred set in and her eyes narrowed as she reached for her sword, which was of course, not there as this was a party and Léspheria and the other elves had informed her that there would be no need for 'orqudagnir', her elvish long sword on this occasion.

"Are you alright my dear?" Hilde's concerned voice broke her intent watch of the newcomer briefly. "No Mrs Bracegridle, I fear I'm not. Like you said, You never know who might show up at these parties with open invitations and these new guests stir a great unrest in my heart." her fey words ended as she again turned her almond eyes suspiciously on the orcish rabble, who fast approached the elven woman with the red hair.

"I'm sure what ever it is; his wrightness and the Elven host Pio will take care of it." Hilde whispered soothingly, trying to elate the elven woman’s growing unrest.

"Perhaps you are right my friend, but my people and theirs have much grievances and I shall not find solace until I know there will be no trouble, if you will excuse me I will return as soon as my fears are rested."

With that, she rose and made her way to where Pio stood, surrounded by a host of orcs.

"Amin dele ten'sen, ye nai na rashwe!" (I am worried about them there may be trouble!) she whispered as she silently came up beside the elven host, she may not be armed but it did not make her any less dangerous should trouble erupt.

[piosenniel]

The minute the word demographic had fallen from the ill-shaped lips of Kransha, a curious image appeared in Pio’s mind. And all the incongruities of the Orc’s speech and demeanor fell into place. Elessar had gone through with his plans to build a second set of governmental offices on the old site of Barad-dûr!

Dress this Orc and his Uruk compatriots in plain grey tunics, stick a quill in one misshapen hand and a ream of vellum in the other and you’ve solved the problem of what to do with the left-over spawn of Shadow. Once trained as crunchers of Men and Elves, now they worked under the flickering fluöréscent lamplight in the cavernous halls of the great grey granite building . . . continuing in what they had been trained so well to do, though in a different manner. They still ‘crunched’ . . . but now it was numbers . . . myriads of numbers . . . and this demographics she recalled had been one of the King’s buzzwords when he’d talked about his plans.

His kingdom was large, she had heard him say at one of the parties she’d attended in Minas Tirith. Large and expensive; his Ministry of Treasury was stretched thin already. A new Ministry was needed to keep the coffers filled, the government running smoothly . . .

Now what was that name . . . yes, there it was . . . strange words on the tip of her tongue . . . Ministry of Cênsusántaxâtion . . . a bit Orcish sounding to her ears . . .

Best not to offend any possible emissaries from the High King, she thought, sighing at the sound of approaching belches and flatus . . .

‘Well, now Kransha, this is a party. And all are most welcome. Just let me not see any of you doing any ‘work’ while you are here. Relax! Enjoy yourselves! Show your compatriots round to the food and drink tables.’ She leaned in close to him, pleasantly surprised by the fresh minty smell of his breath. ‘You might want to make sure they eat al fresco, if you would. Out in the open is preferable . . . where the ventilation is adequate to their needs . . .’

. . . and ours! she thought to herself.

[Kitanna]

Kitanna read Symestreem's note. A piano? Sounded familiar, but then again she couldn't be quite sure. She would have to remember it just incase she ever came across one on her travels.

Kitanna felt as though she had offended Arestevana by mentioning Rohan. So when Symestreem was up getting more pizza Kitanna took the moment to apoligize. "I am sorry if my speaking of Rohan offended you or upset you in any way." She paused a moment thinking of something to add. "But parents from Rivendell? I'd like to claim I have been there before, but that would be one huge lie."

Symestreem returned with more pizza. Kitanna couldn't say she really liked the stuff, but she was fond of the garlic on it. "You really shouldn't eat so much of that Symestreem."