Picnic At The Bonfire Glade

[Mithadan]

RPG Owner: Bethberry

Picnic at the Bonfire Glade







At the time, no one had really paid much attention to the odd fellow as he made his way along the Great East Road. Later, some would argue that people were just imagining him. Others insisted it had to have been him. Some few even alleged to have seen his yellow boots. Then there were those who claimed that the meddlesome wizard was responsible. One intrepid soul even wondered if it could have been the disappearing hitchhiker. Most scoffed at that idea as ridiculous: “Huh, he doesn’t even belong in Middle Earth.” What could not be denied, however, was the appearance of the baskets themselves.

Strangely, just at dusk one night, wicker baskets and hampers had begun to appear at the entrances to smials and barrows all over the countryside. Some even found their way farther afield throughout Eriador it was said. Hobbit and ent, wight and wraith, man, dwarf and elf, even balrog, orc and troll--all received anonymous baskets. When people had had a chance to talk about it, why, it was even said that a ghost ship sailed out of the Havens laden with wicker baskets, sailing west for maiar and valar.

Of course, there was something not quite right about the baskets. Something had been left out. Indeed, in The Shire, the hobbits’ first gleeful delight with the mathoms was tempered by this discovery. The plates and cups, the cutlery, the cloths and napkins and glasses were all fine and lovely and very nice indeed, thank you very much, but the total omission of any manner of foodstuffs was quite disheartening. Hobbits the like of Miz Lobelia sniffed and turned up their noses at the irregularity of it all. They wouldn’t even consider calling on friends and discussing the finer points of the baskets. More than a few orcs were said to have thrown the baskets, wicker and dishes and all, into the fires to keep the furnaces burning. And rumours persisted that some elves looked down upon the workmanship of the baskets, saying they weren’t as good as wicker in the old days. There are those in Arda with no imagination.

More curious souls pondered the omission and decided to rummage more thoroughly into the baskets. Napkins were unrolled, tablecloths unfurled, dishes unpacked and restacked, glasses tipped over. Those who persisted were rewarded with the discovery of something cunningly hidden in the bottom folds of the wicker weaves. A small, hand-written note on parchment paper.

“Come, while the days are yet hot and the earth still warm to our feet, to a Picnic in the Bonfire Glade of the Old Forest. Let us gather to mark the waning of summer and the fellowship of the Dead. Bring your baskets that you might partake of the dinner. But mind your way in. Where Tom and Goldberry have dominion, Sauron has no might, and so there is no need to fear the disturbances of orcs and bullies. Yet remember that the Old Forest is so very much more . . . alive . . . and it harbours still grievances and grudges against all manner of two-legged (and two-winged [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]) creatures for their foul treatment of the Earth. Those not thoughtful of how they tread should be forewarned. Best to bring as well what stories and songs, what tales and yarns you would speak forth to hold the dark at bay and to enchant the Forest as we gather ‘round the bonfire after feasting.

Meet behind the hedge at the Brandybuck Gate to the Old Forest on Tuesday, September 18 at 4 pm EDT”

Food and fright. Now, if this wasn’t something to raise the love of adventure in even the most timid of hobbits, the most jaundiced of wraiths, or even of elves mired in ennui, nothing would.

[ September 18, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ September 18, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]