**Birthday Party in the Barrow** (May, 2005)

[Estelyn Telcontar]

It was a dark and stormy night; an icy wind was blowing over the Downs – it seemed to wail and whisper uncannily between the black shadowy shapes that were enshrouded by mists. It was a night to chill the heart as well as the bones.

Then a pale light shone in the blackness, seeming to come from a remote distance. It beamed out of the open doorway of a huge mound – a barrow. Yet instead of instilling a sense of dread, it emitted a warm, welcoming glow. Many candles gleamed, a wasp of pink haze could be seen in the opening, and there was a whiff of a light, flowery scent.

An apparition floated about the barrow, straightening a tablecloth here, picking up a fluff of dust there. The cold stone floor was covered with soft rugs, tables were set up in obvious anticipation of being filled with good things, and comfortable chairs were distributed for the expected guests. She (for the apparition was definitely female in form, though not clearly visible) then patted her dark locks into place, removing the silver circlet from her head with only the tiniest of regretful sighs - it was, after all, merely a toy for the role she played otherwise. She then straightened the name tag pinned to her feminine yet practical clothing (unfortunately, the foggy touch of her fingers blurred the letters so that only an “H” was recognizable) and sat down at the grand piano to play a piece while waiting for the appointed hour.

Which wights would come to the party? she wondered. What would they be like without the usual accoutrements of their masks? She knew some well enough to be sure that she could recognize them in their unbodied forms, and especially looked forward to the appearance of the great Barrow-Wight himself. It was sure to be a memorable occasion!

[Tigerlily Gamgee]

Soon another apparation appeared. She came bearing ale for the other wights, for she is also known as the "hostess of spirits." She wore a nametag that read "Tig," because that's a name that she's been given by others of the dead. Her real name remains a secret (well, not to everyone). She wore a long, flowing skirt and a black top to match. Her hair was long and of a strawberry blonde color. She smiled at "H" because it's been such a long time that she's gathered with her fellow dead from the Downs. She felt glad to be back home and couldn't wait for the rest of the company to arrive.

[Imladris]

A ghost weaved in and out of the shadows as she hurried toward the barrow. In her hands she clutched a steaming pot of freshly brewed coffee the steam of which curled above her head in a foggy mockery of a crown. A green velvet bag dangled from her wrist, and she was blissfully unaware that the roguish wind was striving to tear it away from her.

As she entered the golden glow from the light of many candles, it could be seen that many of her features had faded with the passing of time, though it could be conjectured that she had once had brownish hair of medium length and eyes that may have been dark or light. The most obvious fact about her was that she was short. Her nametag, which was pinned half hazardly on her shirt, bore the scribbled name of "Sonja".

She smiled briefly to H and Tig when she entered the barrow, nodded to them both, and then set the pot down upon the table. As she waited for the others to arrive, she rocked gently back and forth against the wall.

[Lalwendë]

The little creature remained hidden for the present, lurking as one of many shadows beneath the tables. She was not invisible as it was not possible to completely disappear, but she knew how to hide herself; if anyone had been looking they might have seen the shadows move now and then and thought how odd it was that they had the shape of an arm or a leg.

She had come a long way from the marshes, but the journey had been no effort. All she had to do was wait for a passing traveller and catch a hold of their horse or their cart and she had a free ride. The traveller would never know she was there but for the strange sight now and again of what seemed to be a wide, toothy smile with no form around it.

Under the table she watched them gathering. Ghosts of forkypeds, they might not be so solid any longer but their long legs were still a danger to a little creature like her, and she decided to wait until she felt sure of them. Some of her kind might be more bold and go about nipping and biting at the forkypeds for fun; she could see that these were only spirits and that would not have much effect, and besides, she was not such a tricksy creature. All the same, as she watched, an impulse came over her that she could not help. The white linen of the tablecloths hung over the table edges temptingly and she reached out her fingers to tug at it.

[Celuien]

Outside the barrow door, a ghostly figure paced in the early morning mist. It drifted to and fro, as if debating whether or not to enter the barrow and join the cheery gathering within. At last, she - it was indeed a she - gathered her courage, and tugging at her unruly chestnut curls, stepped over the barrow threshold.

A hush fell over the gathering as the figure entered, for none of the assembled guests could recall seeing her before. In the sudden silence, she glanced about the room and called, "Greetings! Though I am an unexpected guest, I hope that I shall be welcome, for I have lurked on the Downs for many years, waiting for the right time to make my introductions."

A voice called from the back of the barrow, "Why have you not joined before?"

"Ah, that is a long tale," she replied. "Let it suffice to say that the time demands of life as a soon-to-be third-year medical student are, well...demanding, and I have very few minutes left to post. Indeed, I have come today only to wish the Downs a most happy birthday, and then I must go back to studying for my final exams. Yet I hope to return to the Downs soon, for I have greatly enjoyed reading the wonderful posts here."

With that, the ghostly form drifted to a table and scribbled the name "Nichole" on a nametag. She then opened the large black case she had been carrying on her shoulder, took out a viola and joined in with the music coming from the grand piano.

[wilwarin538]

A young ghostly figure was making her way to the barrow at this time. She could here the soft sounds of a piano and a stringed instrument. She was a very quiet girl and slightly shy but she slowly stepped inside the barrow.

She was wearing a long flowing white dress with a small butterfly sown in one side, her name tag was pinned to one of the dress's thin straps, it read "Wilwa" though some at the barrow party knew her real name she liked this one much better.

She nodded to the other guests at the party and as she placed the cake she had brought on a table she noticed that the table clothe moved slightly as if someone had tugged it. With a small grin on her face she moved towards the piano and viola players and joined them with the sounds of the light blue violin she had also brought with her.

[littlemanpoet]

A faint glimmer wafted on the chilly breeze toward the barrow from the Edge of Faerie. As it came closer it was revealed as the spectre of a middle aged man with wire rimmed glasses and a serious loss of hair, sporting beard and mustache. He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the piano and viola, wishing he had remembered his french horn, but thought better of it considering he was so out of practice. Better to read one of my overwrought poems, he thought.

"Greetings, Esty, Tigerlily, Immy, Lal, and Celuien! Happy Birthday to the Downs!" He was glad the group was still small when he got there, for he was really quite uncomfortable in large crowds, especially in such close quarters, as his hearing was not too good at all. He was intrigued by the med student, Nichole, and hoped to see more of her at the Downs.

He floated to the table and filled out a nametag scrawling the Greek word for Little, using modern lettering. It is my real name after all, he said to himself. Then he scrawled "LMP" in the bottom right just because it felt better to have it there. He suddenly remembered the gift in his pocket, and pulled out a couple of spectral stencils he had ordered special for the occasion. One was a picture of a round door on which was scribed, "Home is where a Hobbit is", and the other was a Dragon staring back at the viewer with one red eye open. He placed these and an ink pad and stamper on the name tag table.

He sniffed the air, pleased with the warm fragrances and the homey feel. Then he went over to the musicians and began to hum in harmony with the tune the viola played, in a pleasant tenor voice; humming because he really wasn't that quick of wit to come up with words on the spot; and he wished that he had memorized one of those ditties by the Subcreator of Middle Earth. Ah well. Always wishing for more than he should. He settled to enjoying the music.

Another ghost in a white dress came in just as he did, whom he had not noticed at first; she pulled out a violin, enriching the music. LMP smiled and continued humming.

[The Barrow-Wight]

Aaaaeeeeeee!

Aaaaeeeeeee!

Aaaaeeeeeee!

The Barrow-Wight slapped the snooze button on his Screaming Hobbit™ Alarm Clock and faded back toward to sleep. Nasty hobbits

It was too early to wake, even if there was a party going on, but he couldn’t stop wondering if he had put all of the treasures in the safe. It had been bothering him all night, and he had rolled about on his cold slab for hours, moaning in his sleep. Last year’s gettogether had been a great success, except for several Nûmenorean swords and a set of silver spoons that had gone missing. He suspected one (or more) of the hobbit specters to have taken them. Nasty hobbits

As he again dropped off into the oblivion of the grave, the Barrow-Wight reminded himself to refresh all of the protection incantations before the barrow became too crowded with little, pilfering wights.

[wilwarin538]

As she finished up the song she was playing a ghost messenger came into the Barrow with a message for her saying there was some bussiness that needed taking care of imediately. Sadly she left the barrow to take care of that bussiness not to return till later in the afternoon.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Hilde ducked her head in at the door to see who had already arrived. She did not appear to be too terribly late. The food had remained untouched, and looking over top of her spectacles she could barely discern slight wavering forms milling about the barrow.

Quickly working her way over to the table, she emptied her arms, leaning her ever-present moth eaten canvas bag, crammed with notes, Yes CD’s and a good supply of Nexium against the leg of the table. The spectacularly ugly bird on the bag stared out dolefully at the assembly. A big bowl of lime gelatin salad that rested in the crook of her arm was carefully placed on the table. Hilde had puzzled over what such a crowd might enjoy and thought that the green oozing mess, delightfully and properly insubstantial and yet comforting and old fashioned was the right choice for the occasion.

As she set down the salad, a stack of nametags and a few rubber stamps caught her eye. Thinking for a moment she looked first at one stamp and then the other. She smiled to herself, took both and daubing them in ink stamped a name tag, writing underneath in a strong and rather lacelike script “G” with the appropriate rune and a few flourishes beside it, before plunking on her shoulder.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

The pianist enjoyed playing together with the viola and violin - had they had time, they could have mastered a trio sonata, she thought! However, as was so often the case in her life, there were other matters to be taken care of, and she did want to greet the guests personally, so she played a closing cadence and then thanked Wilwa. "That was fun! I didn't know you play violin. By the way, I like your butterfly - I'm rather a butterfly fan myself." She waved as Wilwa left for the time being.

Then she turned to greet Celuien/Nichole. "I'm so glad you decided to show up, literally! It's nice to be able to meet you; maybe some of our discussions will entice you to post there sometime. Good luck for your exams!"

She smiled at Tig - "You're looking great, as always! (proof here) I was sorry to hear that your audition for the LotR musical wasn't successful; we would have been so proud to have you there! But who knows what wonderful roles time may bring you."

She stopped to look at the name tag Sonja had pinned on, her brow furrowed slightly. Then she called out, "Imladris! It's you! It's a good thing there was a clue, or I wouldn't have recognized you. It's a long way from the fan fiction forum to come here - I'm glad you did!"

Her ever watchful eye, accustomed to keeping a look out for trouble, saw the slight movement of the tablecloth. "Lal! Did you come alone? Oughtn't davem be here to keep you out of mischief?! Now you behave, or I'll get back at you in August!"

"Hi there, LMP!" she called out to the first male who entered the barrow. "I hope you brought something to read to us - a poem, perhaps?"

Her sharp ears heard the alarm clock, but she knew that The Barrow-Wight would show up unexpectedly, whenever he felt like it. No sense in hoping too soon...

She laughed over the bowl of green gelatin. "What an appropriate food choice! 'G', eh? Hmmmmm, let me guess - Gloria? Gail? Gwen? Oh well, maybe I'll find out some day. And no, my 'H' is not for 'Hilde'!"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

After making a dramatic, yet largely ignored, entrance, a small, oddly dressed spirit floated over to a nearby table and placed a dusty (an probably corked) bottle of wine. He had stolen it from an unsuspecting hobbit that was attempting to dump it in the Brandywine.

"Life is wasted on the living," he had said "Don't deserve the hair on their heads."

His red shirt and black waistcoat glittered in the dim light, despite them being transparent. His nametag bore the name "HRH, sir Prince George" But that was crossed out and new words were placed under it, "Hookbill". And in his hand was a long flute of beautiful make. Decorated with the signs of Elves, and pictures of Trees.

Grumbling, Hookbill 'sat' on a chair near to a lamp and quietly eat from a bag of peanuts. He hated peanuts of course, but he ate them in order to hold the effect of being mysterious, which he totally failed to pull off. Keeping his 'cool' Hookbill floated around the other guests and attempted to spot the Barrow Wight.

"If B-Wight was here," he said to himself, "I think we'd know it."

"Talking to you’re self again?" some one asked.

"Yes," replied Hookbill cheerily, "it's the only way I can guarantee intelligent conversation."

[dancing spawn of ungoliant]

Dancing spawn of ungoliant approached the Downs with her heart pounding. She was a bit nervous as usual when going alone to strange places. Suddenly she realized that she had left her name tag home. Her heart beat quickened even more as she entered to the barrow. There she stood bashfully squeezing a violin in her one hand and a gift - a painting - in the other.
Laughter, music and the cozy furnishings of the barrow got her into a party mood. It seemed that her timing had been perfect. She wasn't the first nor the last wight to arrive. She waved at the others and went to greet them.

Dancing spawn was so excited that she completely forgot to be nervous. She tied her long hair up in case she would play the violin for it's certainly a most uncomfortable feeling when your hair gets stuck between the violin and it's shoulder piece.

For a while she tried to follow a lively conversation of some wights she wasn't quite sure who they were (their name tags didn't reveal very much) but soon she sat down near to the spot the musicians had been playing.

[Celuien]

Celuien finished the melody she had been playing, and carefully returned her viola to its case. She turned to Esty and LMP. "Thanks for the welcome!" she said. "It's great to be here. Now that I've finally taken the plunge and registered, I'll definitely jump in on the discussions, especially after finals are over in a couple of weeks." She then headed over to the table of food with a previously unnoticed box that she had left beside her instrument case. The box was opened to reveal a large chocolate cake decorated with green sugar sprinkles. After placing the cake beside the lime gelatin salad, Celuien walked around the barrow, taking in the atmosphere of the growing party.

[Lalwendë]

Lalwende had been spotted just as she was about to tug at that irresistible white cloth and send whatever was on the table tumbling to the ground. These wights were clever creatures, it wouldn't be easy to get away with much sneaking in this party. Her hand dropped away from the cloth and she gave a little wave to Esty. There would be more chances for mischief later no doubt, she thought as she looked about her for the gift she had brought, a large jar of very strong elderflower wine.

Creeping out from under the table, she placed the jar on top of it and then scuttled away to the other side of the chamber as quickly as possible. She had seen a nice little corner where she might crouch quietly and watch who came in. As she passed Esty, she whispered "davem is busy doing tricksy things". She was here alone for now, and she thought she would begin by watching who was there and listening to what they were saying.

But before she got to that quiet little corner, she spied a large bowl of cold, yellow custard, something she simply could not resist.

[Tigerlily Gamgee]

Tig slowly drank an ale, for she's never really been one to drink many of those at once. She went over to the piano to see if she could sing along. They picked a song that she new well, and she began to sing along to entertain the Wights.
"Well, I may not have gotten cast in the LOTR musical, but that doesn't get me down... I still love to sing" she says.

[Nurumaiel]

Nurumaiel crept into the barrow, rather shy as was her wont, but not without a secret hope that someone would take notice of her and speak with her, and not without a secret guilt that perhaps she should be a little less shy. She was altogether satisfied that the party had fallen on the first of May, for it was the same day of a celebration in the family, and she was dressed up for both occasions. Perhaps the long, full, white skirt, trimmed with lace at the neck and sleeves, with one touch of colour where the long red sash wrapped around the waist, was rather out of place in a barrow; but it was what she wore for the family celebration, and she hadn't time to change. Thank goodness it was a party; perhaps she wouldn't be the only one wearing a dress, though, of course, she had grown used to the odd stares that were cast at her every day she went out. She felt secretly very relieved that she had put her hair in pin-curls the night before, though she had agonised over how ridiculous it was to waste time over such wickedly stubborn hair, and other more murderous thoughts.

The travel to the barrow had not been extremely long and strenuous. Spring was perhaps consenting to come to her home at last, for the sun was shining up the breeze-quivered fir branches, and beyond the forest, in the low sloping hills, the grass was green, and little wildflowers of red, blue, purple, yellow, and white sprang up in little tufts and blended together in a hand to make a cheerful bouquet.

Under her arm she carried her fiddle case (and, in her free hand, a guitar which she was quite certain Helen would recognise), wondering if she would have enough courage to play it. To play the fiddle at a little family gathering was not so very hard; but in front of all these people, friend and stranger alike! It was one thing to write Liornung's tunes of myth and magic; it was quite another to play her clumsy own.

As she found a dark, dusky corner to set her fiddle in, hoping that nobody noticed her, but hoping that likewise someone would ask her to play (odd confusion of thoughts!), she looked at her name tag, or rather what was left of it, with a little frown. Of course the two-year-old had wanted to stick it on himself, and naturally it had ripped from the resulting tug-of-war. Now there remained naught but a llonely 'C.'

The first person Nuru noticed in the barrow was LMP, and that was, no doubt, because she had been haunted by guilt for a week because she hadn't yet brought a song, or for that matter any kind of sound, from Liornung.

From her dark, dusky corner she retreated, and shyly advanced towards the center of the room, casting a last glance over her shoulder to make sure her instruments would not fall.

[littlemanpoet]

LMP grinned. Maybe this wasn't going over so badly after all.

"Anymore offerings for the final line?" he asked. "Sharon?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Fine rhymes there, Hookbill and Fea! Fine indeed!"

"Hmmm, Pio, I dunno. Hmmm.... I have it!"

Pio and Max came down hill,
mathoms from Barrowwight to shill,
but woudn't you know it,
she'd no place to stow it,
so took wine and drank her fill!

"But maybe we can work up another one."

Child had tucked under arm
a tome full of balrog charm
proving that wings
were useless things
when it came to causing alarm.

Oh! And one more, since I've gone and taken a peek at Esty's busy-work while we've all been partying.

In Esty's considered opinion,
Shelob and all her minions
are daunted the more
by the Lady of yore
than the brightest star in the heavens!

"Where's that wine? I'm thirsty!"