An Unexpected Vir(tu)al Party

[Huinesoron]

Technically speaking, it would be entirely accurate to say that Huinesoron was dressed as befitted a Noldo of high degree in the glory days of Beleriand, but to make such a claim would be to miss out a few key points. Such as that he was at least a foot and a half shorter than his outfit had originally been tailored for. Such as that his hair was less 'elegantly braided' and more 'quarantine-trimmed semi-haystack'. Such as the way his colour-blindness meant his muted earth-tone palette contained more than a little bright red and emerald green (not to mention mismatched blue and purple socks).

But that was okay. He wasn't much of a one for parties anyway, and didn't want to get in the way of old friends enjoying a long-overdue reunion. He was perfectly happy to slip in through the door behind Ka, scrub down his hands (humming twenty seconds of a tune he fondly imagined would have gone down well in Nargothrond), and find himself a perch by the wall to nibble on a pilfered cookie. It was enough, for him, just to be there.

hS

[Mithadan]

“Losssst! Lossst! Lossst we are and we shall never find it. My preciousssss!”

Mithadan glared at the tiny dragon hovering over his shoulder. “Enough!” he cried. “We are not lost.”

“You could have asked for directions,” Bird hissed. “Maybe at that White City that we passed.” The wyrm flapped its wings and rose up towards the sky. “It’s not too far back. I can still see it.”

A cloud seemed to pass over Mithadan’s face and he, once again, appeared weary. “Empty; long since abandoned,” he mused. “Long embattled by bots and spam and neglected until its gates closed.” He closed his eyes for a moment and, opening them, appeared to see a vision of things long past. “Tall were its walls and bright were its banners. Many were its folk, and among them minstrels, storytellers and seekers of wisdom. Now gone. All gone.”

“And we’ll be gone as well!” snapped Bird. “Wasted away. I was hungry before we left. Your pantry was nearly bare. And now we’re lost! Keep in mind that I’m a dragon. Not above snacking upon a Man.”

Mithadan snorted in amusement. “I’d like to see you try,” he retorted, with a pat on the hilts of his sword. “Anyway, we’re not lost. There’s the Uniform Resource Locator now.”

To their right was a path leading into a dark forest. Its trees were shaggy, overgrown with moss and lichen, and cast a dark shadow on a track leading through their broad and craggy boles. A wooden sign stood next to the entry into the wood. “Da Downs” it read in green letters, and an arrow pointed the way. Without hesitation, Mithadan strode forward and entered the gloomy way. Bird hovered briefly before the entrance.

“This does not look right,” she grumbled. Then she darted forward, agile as a sparrow and quick as a hawk, and followed the Man into the trees. Catching up to Mithadan, she burrowed into his hood and folded her wings. The two trudged along for a while until the path broadened into a clearing that lay before a grey hill. The track ended at a black wall of rock in which stood a closed gate, flanked by two standing stones. Cobwebs hung from the lintel and a noisome mist crawled from beneath the gate. Over the door were glowing runes that read “The Barrow-Downs.” Under the letters, a graven image of a sword appeared to underline the words. Atop one of the stones, a crow cawed, then wavered and fell to the ground in a heap.

“Home, sweet home,” said Mithadan with a sardonic grin. Then he entered his password and stepped through the gate as it opened with a creak. Before them was a broad, gloomy entryway of dark green marble, covered by a pale, yellowish ceiling. Corridors led off to the sides, each labelled by a sign. “The Books, Name Generators, Fun and Games, Reader’s Section, Themes…” he read. The entryway was empty, and his steps echoed as he traversed its length.

“You’d think there would be more folks heading to the party,” muttered Bird.

“That’s something I noticed early on,” replied Mithadan. “Even when something has people’s interest, members live all over, in different time zones, and posts come in at all hours. Waiting for a response isn’t wise; the person you’re exchanging thoughts with may be asleep, thousands of miles away. Ah! There it is…” At the end of the hall was a doorway bearing the label “Ultimate Bulletin Board.” Grinning broadly, Mithadan entered, expecting to see a room filled with appropriately socially separated friends.

Bird’s eyes narrowed and a trail of smoke issued from her jaws. “Some party,” she commented as she spread her wings in caution.

The hall beyond was empty. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. There were no candles in the sconces. The only light was the ambient glow from the sickly-colored floor. A deep, sepulchral tune came from an unseen source. “That old black magic has me in its spell, that old black magic that you weave so well, those icy fingers up and down my spine, the same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine… pzzzzt.” Acrid smoke wafted through the hall and sparks flew from behind a large dust bunny. Then, with a crash, a speaker fell over. A stream of rats issued from the walls, seized the fried piece of electronics, and carried it off, squeaking in glee.

“Looks about the same,” commented Mithadan. “But something’s wrong. Where is everyone?”

To the left was a heavy door, ornately carved, with a knocker made in the image of a ravening wolf’s jaws. A stream of spittle dripped from the fangs, and a low growl could be heard. Above the door was a sign that read “Middle-Earth Discussions: The Books.” He ignored the knocker, which was now audibly whining, and reached for the knob. The door opened with a creak. Here, at last, there were people, but this was not what Mithadan expected.

Figures walked to and fro, intent on their own tasks and lost in their own thoughts. But this was no party. The figures lacked substance. They were pale, translucent and their features were unclear. But their voices could still be heard. “Wings!” one cried. Another was expounding upon the naming of rivers in eastern Beleriand. A young woman spoke of the influences in Tolkien’s writing. Yet another argued that the Bridge at Khazad Dum could not be the only way in from the east side of Moria. To the side, two men raised their voices. “What part of enigma do you not understand?” one cried. “He’s clearly an earth spirit,” responded the other.

“Nerd party?” whispered Bird.

“No,” replied Mithadan. “Downers do know how to party, even in these times of stress and uncertainty. This is odd.”

He approached two of the figures and squinted at their indistinct features. “Galpsi?” He said. “Dogtrot?” Other figures approached. “Gwaihir? Joy? One White Tree? Saulotus? I have not seen any of you in ages! Have you returned?”

Another figure approached. Mithadan recognized him immediately. “Sharku!”

Sharku smiled sadly. “No,” he sighed. “We have not returned. We are no longer wights, but rather are shades or echoes of what was. Our words and thoughts remain, but we are trapped in the past and do not appear in the here and now. We exist only in the Ultimate Bulletin Board.”

“The UBB,” Mithadan “That’s our old platform. We moved years ago. This must be an archive.”

“Release us!” Rimbaud cried. “We have forgotten our passwords!”

“You need only sign on to the forums and post,” cried Mithadan. “Your passwords can be recovered. You need only ask.”

A man walked forward with a rattle and clamour. Mithadan recognized him as Saucepan Man. “But we are tired,” he said. “We have become treeish and have other things to do.”

“Follow if you will,” said Mithadan. “But know this, I need not release you. Your words remain on the boards and your thoughts speak to others who seek knowledge even today. The forums remain and are viewed by members, visitors and friends every day. Come if you may, but I cannot make you log in.”

Mithadan turned and stalked from the caves of the archive. He paused at the gate for a moment, looking inside wistfully. “Hither shall the flowers of simbelmyne come never until the world’s end. I wish that they would return, but I can do no more. For that is not my errand!”

Bird took wing and floated above Mithadan’s head as they made their way from the archive. It took some time, but they soon found the correct Uniform Resource Locator. Before them was the celebration.

“Let’s party!” they cried.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Estelyn left the reading room after several blissful hours of tales and poetry and was surprised to hear considerable volume coming from the ballroom. It was positively crowded when she walked into the room, and she smiled widely to see so many who had responded to the invitation.

Encaitare was still playing a jaunty tune, and soon the hand-shaking and embraces of fond greetings turned into a lively dance. Esty twirled from Lalaith to Pitchwife, interrupting her progress to cuddle her namesake puppy, dragged the protesting Lindo out of the corner to join the fun, did a credible imitation of a carousel with Inzil, thanked Thena for the toast, greeted Oddwen and THE Ka, and tried some of Galadriel55's lembas. Everyone must have had a piece, for the energy spread throughout the room and soon all were dancing, some with more enthusiasm than skill.

She stopped to catch her breath at just the right moment, for Bêthberry entered the room. "How wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I'm glad you were able to join us!" She saw an unfamiliar face and walked over to introduce herself.

"Hello! I'm Estelyn, the hostess of this party. I don't think we have met, have we?" Huinesoron stretched out his hand rather shyly and said his name. "Don't worry," she smiled. "We may be dead Wights, but we're a friendly group - the more, the merrier!"

"This is a pleasure indeed!" Esty laughed as she saw Mithadan enter the room. "One of the illustrious Old Ones has come to celebrate with us! Who knows - maybe even the Barrow-Wight himself will look in? After all, this is turning into a birthday party, and he's the one responsible."

[mark12_30]

Lindo gasped as Mithadan entered. Mithadan turned.

"You brought Bird, " Lindo whispered.

"Or, she brought me, " said Mithadan.

"Let me see her, " said Lindo, hesitant but eager.

Mithadan hesitated too. "She is, ah, a dragon right now," he said.

"Indeed," Lindo whispered, eyes very wide. "Black with a white stripe?"

Mithadan smirked. "You make her sound like a skunk," he said.

"Hey!" Said the dragon, poking her nose out of Mithadan's hood. "Oh, it's that daft singer."

"Nice," snorted Mith, as Lindo began to hum a tune from the drowning of Beleriand, and then very softly he began to sing.

"Raven hair in wind blown tangles
One tress opalescent dangles..."

[Pitchwife]

„Did I hear right?“ said Estelyn the sheepdog, using osanwë to communicate with her human friend across species boundaries. „Did she just call me a puppy? Me, a bitch grown & flowered (TM), and mother of three?“


„Shush,“ said Pitchwife. „The lady meant no ill. Children will always be children to mothers - even godmothers. Believe me, I know what I‘m talking about! Now, why don‘t you go find some food, or someone to pet you? I‘m sure there‘ll be takers. But don‘t just nibble on any old pile o‘ bones you find lying around – they might be a new member!“


Estelyn (still the dog) took his suggestion and began to explore the ballroom, weaving through the guests and sniffing here & there as was her wont. At last she wound up in front of Oddwen and The KA and looked up at them with a friendly wag of her tail. „Arf!“ she said.


The cats had already vanished into the crowd by that time. The red one had found a lintel to jump on, whence it surveyed the gathering with the air of a theatre critic, while the grey one approached a gaily-dressed Noldo sitting all by himself and rubbed against his leg with a soft „Prr?“, its tail curled into a question-mark.


Pitchwife, meanwhile, having helped himself to a glass of Old Winyard and a lemba (and made a note to write to the Lady of Lórien at his earliest convenience), sauntered through the crowd, toasting and greeting all his friends of old, some of whom he had only met far from here in the intervening years, some not at all for a long time. He noted with great pleasure that the plague had not killed Lalaith this time (Maedhros or no Maedhros) and, having listened to her duet with Encai, said to the latter: „Hi, I‘m Pitchwife! Not sure we‘ve met in this place before, but you seem vaguely familiar. Something to do with horns, great horns of rust wildly blowing, I think?“

[littlemanpoet]

Elempi was glad that Bethberry had invited him to the party. He used his palantir to watch the beginnings of this new unexpected party.
He wondered if he might go in the garb of Eodwine of Rohan?

Go as yourself.

Elempi set aside his Habit o' Nine Types, put away his palantir, and made for the party.

*************************

Many miles and no miles later, he stepped up to the door, washed his hands and entered, looking for the food and drink and a nice corner from which to watch the goings on. In time, he would do more than watch.

[Kitanna]

How long has it been? Kitanna thought as she washed her hands with the soap the thoughtful Esty had laid out. Two years? Three? Five? No matter, she had been away for too long. Having received the invitation to the party she quickly aired out her finest dress of black and red silk and made travel plans. Too long had she been away. The invite was just what she needed to lift her spirits.

As she walked into the great hall there were faces she recognized even after so long an absence. Esty in her red dress with the white blouse. Lommy offering her assistance. Legate looking regal an as though he had just stepped from the woods of Lórien. Thenamir, Inzil, and so many more! This was right, this was home, and Kitanna was glad to be back.

Kitanna had not come alone though, she brought a loaf of her famous soda bread. She set it on a long table filled with other refreshments. She had shaped the loaf to look like a mallorn leaf. She hoped her simple dish satisfied the other party goers.

Esty wandered around greeting the guests, but rather than wait Kitanna hurried to her.

"Esty, you beautiful, wonderful, fantastic-" Kitanna stopped herself, knowing she was gushing. "You have done something truly wonderful bringing us all back here." She hugged Esty without giving it a second thought.