Unforbidden - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Bêthberry · 08-31-2005, 11:15 AM

Her ears ringing by the sudden tumult of cacaphony which the arrival of the SaucepanMan produced--such noise sounding all the louder given the relative quiet of the enforced withdrawal from the Downs--Bethberry--now in her party costume as Feyberry--could barely hear the voices of the revellers.

She nodded a warm welcome to Hilde Bracegirdle, and invited her over, along with a dazed and confused looking TGWBdozing. Meanwhile, holding her nose, she strained to catch what Fëá was saying to her, and looked not without some consternation at the train of deliquacious drippings that Fordim was leaving all over the simbelyne of the barrowfield.

In fact, Feyberry quickly plucked up a large trug full of the lovely scented flowers and proceeded to stuff them, decorously and of course to his great delight--he never having been so bouquetted before by her--in the holes left in Fordim by his decayed and rotting flesh.

Feyberry thought she had heard Fëá say something about hands, but she feared to say anything as she noticed Fordim had dropped one of his.

alatar · 08-31-2005, 11:39 AM

alatar stood leaning upon his staff, silent, peering at the closed door of the barrow. One might think that he were a blue statue, except for the bright light of his eyes. His multiple attempts to access the 'Downs door were all for not, and Wizards did not suffer such denials well. Was this the doings of the Enemy? What new plot was this? Did the wights inside finally tire of his *wit* and nonsense and bar the door? Was the Server of the Secret Webhost currently underwater? The clamoring voices inside his head shouted of their many questions. He quieted them down with a suggestion that he'd return to the 'We Love PJ' site if the noise didn't abate.

In the ensuing silence, alatar considered the problem once more.

The letters "Forbidden 430" were easily read, yet meant nothing to him. He knew many ways of opening a door - spells, Words of Command, passwords - even those reserved words in the secret tongue of Programmers that they do not teach.

Yet nothing would open the door.

"Must be missing something." He raised his staff yet again, but the door did not budge. Changed staves, changed spells, changed hats, tested various combinations - nothing worked! He even considered asking the assistance of other Istari, but in this his pride held him back - the waves of despair had not yet reach his toes.

"What haven't I tried?" alatar looked around, seeing if any hobbits were nearby, as purportedly some hobbits' heads were were thick enough to crack open doors (if properly applied). Alas, none were within reach. Finally, as he sat, tired and edging towards defeat, his staff laying nearby where he'd thrown it, there was a CRACK! The door was opening!

Quickly alatar stood, regained his composure and his staff, and waited to see what joy or horror would greet him.

It was the honorable Bêthberry who stood in the open doorway. "Come in," she said, "Sorry that the doors were stuck." He noted that she was oddly dressed, as if for a party, and alatar saw that all of his conjectures were for not.

Confused yet delighted he said, "Uhh...at your service and your family's," as he knew not what else to say on such occasions. He entered the barrow and set about looking around to see what may have changed. alatar gazed back at the door, at the barrow, and began to let down his guard. "All seems well enough," he thought, yet he still wasn't so sure, and would keep an eye on the shadows this night and those that followed.

Lalwendë · 08-31-2005, 11:47 AM

Was it fog or something altogether more sinister? It was formless at first but then took on some kind of shape and silently drew closer. The nearer it moved, the denser it became. If anyone had been lingering there, and this would have only been a wraith or ghoul but even these had been strangely absent for some time, then they would have been enveloped in this grey miasma.

A wrenching barking sound broke the silence and a tiny figure ran from this ponderous mist, coughing.

It was Lalwende. The creature was trying to get away from the heavy gasses that davem had been emitting (from his pipe (his smoking pipe)) these long, empty hours. She coughed again, and then looked up. A tall standing stone loomed above her and she knew she had found the right path at last.

"It's good to be back," she said, as she scurried off in search of some wordy sustenance.

**The Saucepan Man** · 08-31-2005, 11:49 AM

The raucus clatter occasioned by the arrival of the Saucepan Man was as nothing compared to the rising din as the Downs once more got into full swing.

Crowds gathered around the Jackson Shy stand to eagerly throw brickbats at a little round bearded nut on a pole.

At first a few light notes signified that the Crazy Captions Merry-go-Round was back in business. And before long it was again revolving with habitual speed, its jangling musical tones blaring out as those enjoying the ride LOLed and ROFLed with joy.

With a low, ominous roar, the Balrog Wing and Canonicity Pollercoasters cranked themselves up and long queues began to form as respected Downs elders and Newbies alike lined up in gleeful anticipation of their circular thrills and spills.

And a nervous but excited wave of paranoia spread through the building crowd as a bloodcurdling howl in the murky distance marked the re-opening of the Tol-in-Gaurhoth Ride of Terror.

The Barrow-Downs Fair was back in business.

Meneltarmacil · 08-31-2005, 12:05 PM

At that point, someone burst into the room and screamed at the top of his lungs:

"YESSSS! IT'S BACK! I'M FREE AT LAST!"

Everybody was suddenly silent. Meneltarmacil's face turned a bright shade of red.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I got too carried away. I'm so glad to find I haven't been exiled."

For he had been shocked and confused to find the gates of the Barrow-Downs locked against him. He had knocked repeatedly and tried everything he could think of, but still the great gates had remained shut against him. Meneltarmacil had wandered far and wide over the paths of the Internet looking for answers, but he could find none. He was about to give up hope when he ran across mormegil, who had suffered the same fate. Menel also learned that both davem and Lalwendë (may their reputations grow ever larger) were also being denied access. Unless The Barrow-Wight had gone completely nuts and started banning everyone in sight, then Menel hadn't been forcibly exiled from the forum at all. He once again marched up to the gates of the Downs... only to find them just as mysteriously open as they had been closed before.

Which explained why Menel had just burst in on them. He sat down at one of the tables, set down his gear, and got a refreshing drink of water.

08-31-2005, 11:39 AM	#2
alatar Doubting Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Dec 2004 Location: Heaven's basement Posts: 2,466	alatar stood leaning upon his staff, silent, peering at the closed door of the barrow. One might think that he were a blue statue, except for the bright light of his eyes. His multiple attempts to access the 'Downs door were all for not, and Wizards did not suffer such denials well. Was this the doings of the Enemy? What new plot was this? Did the wights inside finally tire of his wit and nonsense and bar the door? Was the Server of the Secret Webhost currently underwater? The clamoring voices inside his head shouted of their many questions. He quieted them down with a suggestion that he'd return to the 'We Love PJ' site if the noise didn't abate. In the ensuing silence, alatar considered the problem once more. The letters "Forbidden 430" were easily read, yet meant nothing to him. He knew many ways of opening a door - spells, Words of Command, passwords - even those reserved words in the secret tongue of Programmers that they do not teach. Yet nothing would open the door. "Must be missing something." He raised his staff yet again, but the door did not budge. Changed staves, changed spells, changed hats, tested various combinations - nothing worked! He even considered asking the assistance of other Istari, but in this his pride held him back - the waves of despair had not yet reach his toes. "What haven't I tried?" alatar looked around, seeing if any hobbits were nearby, as purportedly some hobbits' heads were were thick enough to crack open doors (if properly applied). Alas, none were within reach. Finally, as he sat, tired and edging towards defeat, his staff laying nearby where he'd thrown it, there was a CRACK! The door was opening! Quickly alatar stood, regained his composure and his staff, and waited to see what joy or horror would greet him. It was the honorable Bêthberry who stood in the open doorway. "Come in," she said, "Sorry that the doors were stuck." He noted that she was oddly dressed, as if for a party, and alatar saw that all of his conjectures were for not. Confused yet delighted he said, "Uhh...at your service and your family's," as he knew not what else to say on such occasions. He entered the barrow and set about looking around to see what may have changed. alatar gazed back at the door, at the barrow, and began to let down his guard. "All seems well enough," he thought, yet he still wasn't so sure, and would keep an eye on the shadows this night and those that followed. __________________ There is naught that you can do, other than to resist, with hope or without it. Last edited by alatar; 08-31-2005 at 12:19 PM.

08-31-2005, 11:47 AM	#3
Lalwendë A Mere Boggart Join Date: Mar 2004 Location: under the bed Posts: 4,737	Was it fog or something altogether more sinister? It was formless at first but then took on some kind of shape and silently drew closer. The nearer it moved, the denser it became. If anyone had been lingering there, and this would have only been a wraith or ghoul but even these had been strangely absent for some time, then they would have been enveloped in this grey miasma. A wrenching barking sound broke the silence and a tiny figure ran from this ponderous mist, coughing. It was Lalwende. The creature was trying to get away from the heavy gasses that davem had been emitting (from his pipe (his smoking pipe)) these long, empty hours. She coughed again, and then looked up. A tall standing stone loomed above her and she knew she had found the right path at last. "It's good to be back," she said, as she scurried off in search of some wordy sustenance. Last edited by Bêthberry; 09-10-2005 at 04:54 AM. Reason: removed signature

08-31-2005, 11:49 AM	#4
The Saucepan Man Corpus Cacophonous Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: A green and pleasant land Posts: 8,390	The raucus clatter occasioned by the arrival of the Saucepan Man was as nothing compared to the rising din as the Downs once more got into full swing. Crowds gathered around the Jackson Shy stand to eagerly throw brickbats at a little round bearded nut on a pole. At first a few light notes signified that the Crazy Captions Merry-go-Round was back in business. And before long it was again revolving with habitual speed, its jangling musical tones blaring out as those enjoying the ride LOLed and ROFLed with joy. With a low, ominous roar, the Balrog Wing and Canonicity Pollercoasters cranked themselves up and long queues began to form as respected Downs elders and Newbies alike lined up in gleeful anticipation of their circular thrills and spills. And a nervous but excited wave of paranoia spread through the building crowd as a bloodcurdling howl in the murky distance marked the re-opening of the Tol-in-Gaurhoth Ride of Terror. The Barrow-Downs Fair was back in business. Last edited by The Saucepan Man; 08-31-2005 at 06:04 PM.

08-31-2005, 12:05 PM	#5
Meneltarmacil Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jun 2003 Location: The bottom of the ocean, discussing philosophy with a giant squid Posts: 2,254	At that point, someone burst into the room and screamed at the top of his lungs: "*YESSSS! IT'S BACK! I'M FREE AT LAST!" Everybody was suddenly silent. Meneltarmacil's face turned a bright shade of red. "Sorry," he apologized. "I got too carried away. I'm so glad to find I haven't been exiled." For he had been shocked and confused to find the gates of the Barrow-Downs locked against him. He had knocked repeatedly and tried everything he could think of, but still the great gates had remained shut against him. Meneltarmacil* had wandered far and wide over the paths of the Internet looking for answers, but he could find none. He was about to give up hope when he ran across mormegil, who had suffered the same fate. Menel also learned that both davem and Lalwendë (may their reputations grow ever larger) were also being denied access. Unless The Barrow-Wight had gone completely nuts and started banning everyone in sight, then Menel hadn't been forcibly exiled from the forum at all. He once again marched up to the gates of the Downs... only to find them just as mysteriously open as they had been closed before. Which explained why Menel had just burst in on them. He sat down at one of the tables, set down his gear, and got a refreshing drink of water. Last edited by Meneltarmacil; 08-31-2005 at 01:34 PM. Reason: Making the story less ambiguous

08-31-2005, 11:15 AM	#1
Bêthberry Cryptic Aura Join Date: May 2002 Posts: 6,003	Her ears ringing by the sudden tumult of cacaphony which the arrival of the SaucepanMan produced--such noise sounding all the louder given the relative quiet of the enforced withdrawal from the Downs--Bethberry--now in her party costume as Feyberry--could barely hear the voices of the revellers. She nodded a warm welcome to Hilde Bracegirdle, and invited her over, along with a dazed and confused looking TGWBdozing. Meanwhile, holding her nose, she strained to catch what Fëá was saying to her, and looked not without some consternation at the train of deliquacious drippings that Fordim was leaving all over the simbelyne of the barrowfield. In fact, Feyberry quickly plucked up a large trug full of the lovely scented flowers and proceeded to stuff them, decorously and of course to his great delight--he never having been so bouquetted before by her--in the holes left in Fordim by his decayed and rotting flesh. Feyberry thought she had heard Fëá say something about hands, but she feared to say anything as she noticed Fordim had dropped one of his.