An Unexpected Vir(tu)al Party

[piosenniel]

“Before we head south…”

Just that half sentence had captured Bird’s attention. She leaned in closer to Pio, her eyes narrowing. “South,” she echoed. “Now isn’t that interesting. You know, I…” Her stream of thought was cut off by a politely voiced, “Hey, can a fellow buy you all another round of ale?”

Angara sidled up to Arry, answering his smile with a toothy grin of her own. “Why, yes, my dear Arry. That would be just the thing” She managed a dry cough as if to emphasize her point. “I don’t know what these two want, but would you mind getting this old Wyrm one of those delicious looking bright green drinks with the frothy topping?” her long thin tongue flicked out and licked at her upper lip. “I heard someone say it’s made with juniper berries gathered at the summer solstice. And most delicately infused with wild flowers and a dash of refreshing herbs.” Angara closed her eyes and seemed to actually be purring at the thought. "Sounds quite delectable, doesn’t it,” she said, nudging Pio with a talon.

Pio arched her brows at the description of the drink. “Delectable? Maybe…. But do you think you should have that on top of the ale you’ve already downed?” Angara gave her a dismissive lift of her snout. "Thank you for the offer, Arry,” Pio went on. “And yes, we’d like to take you up on your offer!”

Bird added her thanks too, looking the young man up and down. “Friend of Pio’s?” she asked. “I’m Bird,” she said introducing herself as she extended her hand.

[Arry]

“Very happy to meet you, Miz Bird!” Arry shook her offered hand firmly, a smile lighting up his face. “I’ve heard lots of grand stories from Miz Pio about her adventures with you. Glad to put a face to her travel companion.” As he finished, he realized he still held Bird’s hand and was still shaking it. A red tinge crept down his cheeks. Letting go her hand, he nodded to the three ladies and said he would be straight back with the agreed upon drinks.

The line was short, and it was just a bit later that he returned with a pitcher of ale, three fresh mugs, and one of those tall and rather dreadful looking bright green drinks – this one with any extra layer of frothy topping and some gold colored sprinkles. “Here we are, m’ladies,” he said setting the drinks on the table. He dared a wink at Angara as he positioned her glass within her easy reach. Picking up the pitcher, then, he poured a mug each for the Elf and Bird and himself.

He settled in a chair, his guitar close at hand and his rucksack tucked neatly on the floor beneath his seat. He was about to take a drink when he recalled the device Envinyatar had left for him to give to Miz Pio. “Oh, say, Miz Pio, I’ve something here that Envinyatar wanted me to give you.” Arry dipped his fingers into his vest pocket and pulled out the device, placing it flat on the table. The light from a nearby sconce seemed to infuse the crystal button on the top of the little rectangular box with a rainbow of lights. The crystal flared up and blazed for a moment.

“Envinyatar said he had to leave. And he wanted me to make his good-byes to you.” Arry shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Said he was no good at doing such. And he gave this to me, saying it was for you.” He pushed the small device toward the Elf. “He said he found it in a rocky cave along the western shores. It’s a relic from the Old Fellow’s time.” Arry pointed to the bright crystal jewel in the middle of the slender box-like object. “Just press there and you’ll hear a most amazingly wonderful thing.”

Arry smiled as Pio pressed down on the crystal. There was a small whirring noise and then a familiar voice began to tell a story.

Pio’s face lit with delight at the sound of the storyteller’s words:

The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hilltop high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!
He called her by her elvish name,
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.

-----------------------------------------------
--- J.R.R Tolkien reading The Song of Beren and Lúthien

[piosenniel]

The poem had come to an end – the device from which it had played became silent. Bird leaned her cheek against her hand, her arm resting on the table top. “Nice. Very nice,” she murmured. “Wasn’t it, Pio?” There was no immediate answer from her friend; the Elf looked faraway – lost in some long ago memories. Bird nudged her with her free hand.

Pio rubbed her hands together softly and came back slowly to the present. “Yes, very nice,” was her brief reply. She turned her attention to Arry. “Did Vin say anything else, Arry?”

Before Arry could answer, there was a loud slurrrrrp... followed by a softer burp. Angara lifted her snout from the now empty glass of green liquid, a thin mustache of whipped topping gracing her upper lip. “Say, Arry do you think you might find me another of these? And ask them to give it a generous shake of those gold sprinkles.” She looked about the table as her companions fixed her with doubtful stares. “What?” She sat back on her haunches and huffed a bit. “It’s a party, isn’t it?” Angara let out a long, satisfied sounding sigh. "Have not been to one in a very long time."

[Arry]

Arry nodded his head at Angara’s request, though on looking closer it seemed as if the wyrm’s eyes were not quite tracking together. He looked toward Pio and Bird, his brows raised. “Looks like that was some potent potion Miz Angara,” he said turning back to the dragon. “And look at that line at the bar, will you!” He reached under his chair for his rucksack and pulled out a long, tight woven cloak. “Bit chilly in here, isn’t it, since that hole got knocked in the wall.” He flung the cloak over Angara, soothingly encouraging her to settle in and just rest a bit til he could bring her another drink.

After several more minutes of soft talk from Arry, Angara’s eyes closed and the low, even sound of her snoring became part of the background noise of the party. He looked up and saw the surprised faces of the Elf and Bird. “Grew up on a farm,” he began. “My Da raised sheep. And I learned to talk down the skittish Mamas about to have their lambs.” He grinned. ‘Didn't know if it would work on Miz Angara – I think the amount of spirits she drank down this evening helped a bit.”

Arry adjusted the cloak a little around the sleeping wyrm and then settled himself into a chair closer to Bird and Pio. “Now what was it you asked, Miz Pio?” He took a swig from his mug. “Right! About if Vin said anything else before he left.” He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the scene of the man’s leave-taking. “Yes, now I remember. He said to give you his good-bye and a good-bye to Angara, too. And then he said he needed to be on his way. That he was headed south.” He looked at Pio with these last words. “And begging your pardon for eavesdropping, but didn’t I hear you saying something along the same lines when I came over to your table? Something about you heading south, too?”

He topped off the mugs of the two ladies, then sat back waiting to hear what the Elf would say.

[piosenniel]

It was Bird who spoke up. “You know, I wanted to tell you a while ago that I was thinking about traveling down south myself.” She tapped Pio on the knee. “Don’t know if you recall, but I think I told you that there was some talk from the ones who fostered me that my people come from down there. Bird pursed her lips in thought. “I know hardly anything about my real kin,” she said quietly, her voice trailing off.

“Yes, I do remember.” Pio shifted her chair closer to her friend. “Look... I’ve had a letter from a friend in Far Harad. His family, and his clan, I should say, live there. He’s wanting me to come down. Something he wants to show me.’ She gave Bird a weighed look. “And,” Pio went on, “he asked if I’d seen you… and would you come, too.”

Bird leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes at the Elf. “Just how does this this fellow know my name?” She bent forward, close to Pio’s face, and spoke in a low, clear voice. “And, in particular, why does he think I’d be interested?”

Pio thought how she might put the answers in a good light. But then, this was her old companion – no need to present things other than just plainly. “Well, it’s like this, Bird… he’s a skin-changer, from a Maenwaith clan. I told him a little about you - the we were good friends. I shared some of your background. I asked if he could fill in some of the blanks for you. I was going down to see what’s what.”

“Going - without me?” Bird interjected.

“By the One, Bird! Not by choice! Hadn’t heard from you in years. Didn’t know where you were. Or how to reach you.” Pio laughed and shook her head. “As a last resort, I even tried ósanwe – but we were never good at that, were we?” Bird snorted and shook her head, ‘no’.

A momentary silence fell between the two companions, broken at last by the impetuous Elf.

“Soooo… how about I just throw this out there. Come along with me! It’ll be like old times.” Pio winked at her friend. “It’ll be fun!”

[Arry]

“Hey! I’m in!” Arry leaned forward in his chair, his eyes shining. “I’ve never been to Gondor. Only once made it to the northern feet of the White Mountains.” He looked from Bird to Pio.

“I’m a pretty good companion on the road.” He started ticking off his positive qualities. “I won’t slow you down – been tramping most my young life. I’m good at hunting for meats and greens and tasty herbs from off the land. And, if I do say so myself, I’m a dab hand at cooking them.” He flexed his shoulders and biceps. “I can pretty much pull my weight in any situation.”

“And…” Arry picked up his guitar and picked out a tune. “I can keep you entertained when we camp.” He set his guitar back down and leaned forward once again.

He put on his most endearing smile. “So, when do we leave?”

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Estelyn looked into the ballroom once more - the wights had faded back into their own lives and locations, but their voices and faint images lingered. Conversations continued in other rooms of the Downs, and she knew that the Barrow would always be home to her and to many others. As she wiped the tables and swept the floor, she smiled rather wistfully, wondering what the coming year would bring. In a low (and melodious, of course! ) voice she began to sing:

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate...