The Unexpected Unparty!

[Morthoron]

The Dark Elf nodded grimly
Leaning somber 'gainst the chimbley
Mantle sooted black and stained,
And about the barrow a gentle rain
Caused a hiss inside the flue
As errant drops dripped through
To reach the embered fire
Like mournful tears upon a pyre.
And in reverie now enthralled,
The somber Sindar thus recalled
The ashes of many a passing blaze,
Fading into memory's haze --
Of ages gone and deeds done
'Ere the rising of the sun.
Choking past the melancholy,
Seeing faces red and jolly,
He contrives a bitter smile,
Yet he knows that all the while
the box on yonder table yawns --
Cold and empty, contents gone.
Thus, he sadly drifts away,
And heaves a sigh as if to say,
That it surely would have been nice
To have saved him just one pizza slice!

Happy Birthday!

[Rumil]

I've secured a stash of Seattleite ale and Scotch Miruvor - hooray - I might well fall aleep again now - goodnight!

[Thinlómien]

Thinlómien joined the merry company, greeting everybody. "You have pizza and miruvor? Great. I brought some lembas." The others cast her a quizzical look. "Erm... just in case we needed to go for a long journey or something, and it tastes good in any case," she explained, smiling widely.

She looked at Rumil. "Is he asleep?" Lommy asked Estelyn.
"Yes, it seems like he just dozed off again."
"What a pity. Well, he'll wake up eventually."

Then she looked around and saw Legate and Eönwë. She remembered the incidence she had seen from afar. "Are you guys alright?" she asked, not very concerned though, as they were not in mortal danger anyway as they were dead already.

Before either of them could answer, she turned back to the all-knowing Esty. "I have a little birthday present. Should I take it inside? Where is the Barrow-Wight?"

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Bent and muttering to herself, Hilde wound her way around the hills, shuffling along as fast as her aching legs would carry her. "If there's any dancing to be had, you've gone and missed it, old girl! No Springle Rings for you this year! Not that your old carcass would oblige you none." Spying a patch of brave wildflowers along the way, the hobbit scooped them up hurriedly, not wanting to come to the party completely unprepared. And as she a rounded a low mound, she came upon a familiar group gathered about on the high green hillside just below the characteristic black and green door, the well worn entrance to the Barrow-wight's domain.

With fond smile, Hilde hitched up her skirt a little, before trudging up the hill exclaiming "A garden party, is it? What, is the old wight still renovating then? And May already! Who would have believed the Downs celebrating its 8th! Time flies don't it...especially when you been trying to enjoy the fine fresh air in those woods", she rambled, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to the west. A hobbit goes looking for some ramps, or mercy, to find some of those wild mushrooms to bring to a party, and the next thing you know she don't know which end is up and she meets the strangest of all people." Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Bethberry's smile, which in her amusement looks the perfect copy of her father's. "Oh hallo Miss Bethberry! Please excuse me, its just that he does have a habit of startling folks. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he launched into that fine poetry of his, not even four feet behind me this morning. Something about orcs, it was. But I couldn't quite make out what exactly he was on about." And smiling sheepishly, Hilde moved off to the trestle tables, nodding at the others assembled as she lifted the lids of the pizza boxes to find only the discarded crusts inside. Sighing, she gently took the empty crock out of Rumil's hand, and stuffed it full of the flowers she had brought, placing the arrangement squarely in the center of the table, before stacking the old pizza boxes in a tower at the end. Her stomach grumbling loudly, she wiped her hands off on her skirt.

“Since the weather is so fine for it today, perhaps we should build us a proper bonfire? Maybe throw in a few potatoes? Ah, but where to get the wood, eh?” With that she opened a pizza box and taking out lonely remnant, that greatly resembled an over sized nail trimming, she began gingerly gnawing on the end of the stale bit of crust as she looked thoughtfully at the box wondering how many pizza boxes it whould take to cook a potato.

[alaklondewen]

Brushing a dark curl from her forehead, Alaklondewen paused and gazed into the blue day. It had been a long road and many adventures since she wandered this familiar path that led to the Old Wight's forum. She was running later than she had wished for the celebration, but it is difficult to leave a new husband and family for the journey she had embarked. A soft smile crossed her lips as she thought of their faces and the spring breeze rippling through their hair as they wished her well. But eight years! Eight years is such an accomplishment she knew she must come at once and offer her congratulations to the Barrow Wight in person, and of course, she hoped to see the sparkle of familiar smiles and hear the old tales, along with the new, of her dear acquaintances from years gone by.

Laughter and the merriment of music had tickled her ears long before she rounded the last knoll and the green and black, which felt so close to her heart and yet so distant from the time, filled her vision. Her eyes turned from the old door before her as she heard the cheerful prattle of the famous Hilde Bracegirdle. The sound of the hobbit's ramblings was so suddenly sweet to her ears, Alaklondewen laughed aloud before realizing how uplifted she felt. Turning slowly with one last hesitation, she breathed deeply and walked out to the lawn where she looked upon the faces she had long missed. She ran her hands slowly inside her hood and lowered it, shaking her head and letting the air touch her neck through her locks.

"Dear Hobbit," she spoke with the tone of happiness which is only brought about by the company of old friends. "Did I hear you mention potatoes? I am quite certain we can find kindling for your fire."

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

“Ah, Alaklondewen!” Hilde said rushing quickly toward her friend. And throwing her arms about her, she ushered her in to the middle of the group. “It seems forever since I've last seen you! How's the family coming along? Why, that sweet angel of yours must be as tall as me now!”

Alaklondewen, laughed and shook her head, as she removed her cloak laying it across an empty table, “Not yet, Hilde. Not yet.”

“Well, I'd give it another month or two at the most then,” the hobbit said with a wink. Then putting her hands on her hips, she surveyed the group assembled, counting aloud as she went. “Now to set about those potatoes, since kindling won't be a problem, I figures all we need now is some good stout wood and a apron full of potatoes. But all we've got are these here empty boxes, and a right crew of guests. And I knows for certain they can't eat their rep points for supper now can they, delightful as they might be.” Then raising her voice the hobbit stepped up on a bench and added, “But glorious day, I'd heartily approve of anybody that would could come up with any wood or potatoes for us, be they scoundrel or scholar.”

“Well, while we wait to see if anyone thought to fill their pockets with potatoes, or if the Barrow-wight has a few tucked away in his barrow, perhaps we should begin to gather the kindling.“ Alaklondewen suggested.

“So right you are. And merry fire at night is a cheerful thing... even if it is on an empty stomach!”

[satansaloser2005]

Then, suddenly, from over the hilltop, a four-legged duck toddled over to the scene of quiet merry-making. (Many have wondered why this duck has four legs. As it turns out, she was born in pre-Trees Valinor. If that doesn’t make sense, we’ll just add that the reason that Elves from that era glow had absolutely nothing to do with the holiness of the Valar.) Clenched in her bill were two peculiar items: a notecard, and a burlap sack.

Making her way to the center of the festivities, she dropped both items, then adeptly took the sack by the back end and tugged at it. Out of the sack’s mouth rolled a few potatoes, still covered in the vestiges of dirt. The duck hopped on top of the bag, causing a few more of the delicious spuds to roll out, and said,

“Quack! Quackety quack quack quack quack quack, honk quackery quack quack mcquackersons!”

And feeling fully justified in this speech, she nodded her head once, hopped off, and picked up the notecard again.

Now she made her way over to the barrow, and seeing that the bottom of the door had enough room within for a notecard, delicately shoved it underneath. It read thusly:

My most esteemed Deceased Ones,

This will be my first, last, and only post on this site, unless my dear owner has me proxy for her, in which case it will of course not be my own post.

I first heard of the Barrow-Downs way back in 2001, when a friend directed me to the main site and I derived approximately fifteen minutes of amusement from it and its fan fiction section. Possibly more.

But I kept it filed away as a good fansite, and when I began to get much more regular internet access in 2003 I started visiting it again, mostly for the Grave Matters (which I miss quite terribly, I might add). Once Grave Matters died, I discovered the forum and derived, again, a few days of amusement.

But I was terribly put out because I was so incredibly ignorant of everything (even on Grave Matters) and eventually I concluded that if I was to be a proper Tolkien Geek I would have to read the Silmarillion.

So I did.

And it’s been a nonstop ride ever since.

I started following the Downs again around when Werewolf started up. My favorite game is still 3, by the way—it felt almost literary, it was so good. And by now I’d matured enough intellectually to truly appreciate the rest of the forum, so during the Night phases I began to read up on everything else

You’re probably wondering why I haven’t joined.

Sometimes, so do I.

But all I can say about the matter is that it’s highly personal, and if I actually became a member of the Downs I’d run the very high risk of hurting people I know and care about, because I wouldn’t have any time for them. I hope you’ll understand.

So I just wanted to say “thank you,” to each and every one of you, but especially to you, Mr. Wight.

For having a forum in which people converse intelligently, without resorting to netspeak.

For having a forum in which I know that all the curses I will hear will be genuine Ardan, not English, and thus will not offend me.

For demonstrating that Tolkien is not just something geeky, but a genuine, intellectual pursuit, and that it’s possible to have serious discussions about his works beyond “Do Balrogs have wings?” (They totally do, by the way, except their flight is rather like a chicken trying to fly—they can flutter a bit, but if they’re in free-fall they’re screwed.)

For demonstrating to me that not all fans believe that Peter Jackson is the greatest thing since the King’s return (although some do, and actually can form an argument beyond “OMGORLIISSOHOTT!!!” or “Whooooooaaaa Helm’s Deep!”).

For the hours and hours of entertainment I’ve had as I’ve religiously read up on Werewolf games.

And a few personal thank-you’s as well, to those members whose posts have affected me more than others.

davem and Mithalwen, thank you for your shameless promotion of the BBC Radio 4 version of Lord of the Rings. You got me to check it out through Interlibrary Loan (always a great idea if you can’t afford a copy), and give it a listen, and whaddaya know, you were absolutely right. It took the strongest self-restraint not to rip myself a copy right then and there, but I’m going to buy one as soon as I have money.

Brian Sibley, thank you for joining. I nearly had an aneurysm when I first saw you post.

mark12_30, thank you for your lovely fan fiction “The Fairy Wife.” You proved to me that a good, highly canon-friendly, yet decidedly original piece of fan fiction is possible.

littlemanpoet, thank you for being so ridiculously Christian during theological tussles. (And thanks as well to his many opponents; it takes two to tango!) I’m sorry that you’re leaving, but I know that you will shine with Reflected Light wherever you are, just as strongly as you have here.

And to The Current Werewolf Crowd, thank you for taking my friend sally in without a word of complaint, even though she’s never read LotR.

And to everyone out there, another general round of thanks, be ye old-timer or n00b. Don’t think that you never have an effect outside of the Downs, because there are always lurkers like me out there.

I hope that this doesn’t creep everyone out too much. If it does, all I can say is, “The internet is a public place,” and “watch what you post.”

Happy Eighth Birthday, The Barrow-Downs, and many happy returns!

Sincerely,
Emily (aka sally’s duck)

Having pushed this note under the barrow door, the duck began to waddle away. Turning around, she gave it one last, almost wistful look before she disappeared beyond the hills.