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Nieriel
Rivendell
Feb 6 2016, 5:03am
Post #102 of 190
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One word is never enough for an Elf :)
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I don't often allow myself some 'swoon' time but today, I will!
  
"Our loves are not given, but only lent." Rudyard Kipling
(This post was edited by Nieriel on Feb 6 2016, 5:05am)
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Nieriel
Rivendell
Feb 6 2016, 11:40am
Post #103 of 190
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Letters Home - Legolas & Thranduil
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The Secret Correspondence between father and son
Dear Ada
I wish you hadn't sent me here. I don't like it. I don't like boats or girls or dwarves. I want to come home. Can I?
Luv n stuff
Lego xox
..........
Legolas, my dearest son
There are times when we all have to face things we dislike, the best we can do is to decide how we live through such times.
You can never become a great King if you allow your feelings to overrun you. The first rule of Kingship is to have NO feelings.
Stay where you are until I recall you. Now, be a good boy and get on with it.
Ada is very proud of you, Lego dear.
Kind regards
Your father
..........
Dear Ada
But Dad!!! You have NO idea what it's like!!! My only friend is the pony 'Minty', I was allowed to brush her the other day. She's got a lovely tail. She let me whisper to her about how miserable I am here, and I am sure she understands. I was given an apple to give to 'Minty', but so desperate am I for something approaching the diet of Home, I ate it myself. Does that count as having no feelings, Dad?
I could murder a Leek and Cabbage Curry.
Luv n stuff
Lego xox
...........
My son
I did NOT send you there to make friends, let alone have you confide in a dwarven pony. Tell the pony NOTHING, do I make myself clear?
I need to know more about the treatment of Lindir, is he a willing participant or is he forced?
Does the Halfling suffer?
What news about the approaching Barbecue? What is Oakenshield planning to wear?
Glad to hear about the apple.
Regards
Your father
........
Dear Ada
You should SEE the state of Lindir, Dad. He's got his own double headed battle axe now and last night he joined in with nightly singings of 'Misty Mountains Cold', as he now knows all the words. THAT is how far his corruption has gone. Don't worry, Dad, I don't know the words (but could hum the tune if pressed) and when no one is looking I stuff pieces of bread crust in my ears so I can't hear it, but it's hard work as they sing it ALL the time, the girls on the boat encourage it.
There is talk aboard that Lindir has had a tattoo done, but it isn't as exciting to the girls as Kili's tattoo. I know not why. I do not understand what women find so interesting about the short, hairy mutant.
The girls have done 'stuff' to Lindir's hair so it is hardly recognizable as Elvish hair at all. You would weep to see it, father. My own hair is causing me problems as I have to keep touching up the roots to stop the blonde showing. I am almost out of Root Rescue, I may have to resort to the Coffee the Halfling makes - I spilled some today on the deck when the boat gave a nasty lee lurch, and it stripped the varnish where it fell, so I can only assume it will strip the blonde out of my hair too. It is a sacrifice I am prepared to make.
The Halfling seems to be operating under free will but he does look worried much of the time.
The girls are trying to make friends by offering me something called a Wonder Bra to help my 'little problem up top' as they call it. It is the strangest catapult I've ever seen and I have no idea why they would offer me such a thing. Curses upon these fiendish dwarven weapons!
In other news I have now had to eat so many pancakes (do not ask me to describe the horror of them, Ada) and 'nice crispy bacon' that my cheekbones are suffering and I may have gained weight.
Please can I come home now?
Luv n stuff
Lego xox
........
Son
Stop whining.
Worry not about the 'bra of wonder', Elrond assures me that Arwen has one and to quote him 'and precious little good does it do her, for she is still to catch a husband', so I can only assume it is a man trap or something of that ilk and therefore best avoided.
I have heard tell of these 'pancakes' and I would urge you to eat no more of them for no good can come of it. Bacon? Dwarven depravity sickens me.
Halflings are a resourceful breed and it would not surprise me if he isn't simply feigning compliance to avoid the ill will of the Durins and ensure his survival - trust me on this one, people act like that around me all the time.
I care little for the fate of Lindir now, as I fear he may actually be enjoying himself. Anyway, he's Elrond's problem, not mine. Elrond is too laid back I feel. He told me that there were worse things that could happen than one of his Elves 'going Dwarf'. In fact he said "It could be worse, Thranduil, my old friend, my daughter could be in love with a mortal!" How we laughed!
You haven't answered my question about what Oakenshield plans to wear to the Barbecue, Legolas. Ada is waiting.
Dad
.......
Dear Ada
I know NOT what Oakenshield plans to wear to the Barbecue and neither do I have the heart to discover it because today I was made to wash 'nameless goop' from bits of old armour. My nails got dirty, I could have cried.
The bits of old armour were brought from underground from I know not where, as I was not allowed to go on the trip to recover it but made to stay behind with Lindir who was looking after 'Minty'. Once washed, the armour was really shiny. My eyes must have been cheated by some spell because I found the armour so fair to look upon that it could have *almost* been made by my own kin. If this observation is NOT a good reason for my returning home, father, I don't know what is. I am obviously falling foul of Dwarven ways.
Were it not for previous care you have shown me I would begin to suspect that you can naught for my sufferings! I have been forced to resort to dire methods to hide my Elfhood as using the Halfling's Coffee to dye my hair only resulted in disaster when it rained. I am now so sorely in need of a hot bath that even 'Minty' will no longer tolerate my company as she once did. My ruse to drown out 87 verses of Misty Mountains Cold each evening with the bread crusts has now attracted the attention of sparrows.
Luv n stuff
Lego xox
........
Legolas, son of Thranduil
Please find enclosed two bottles of Root Rescue (shade: Durin Brown) a travel size bottle of 'WhiffBlaster For Elves' Roll on Deodorant and a triple pack of Beorn's Bees Wax Earplugs.
Yours sincerely
Arramir Hollybush
Personal Shopper to Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm
"Our loves are not given, but only lent." Rudyard Kipling
(This post was edited by Nieriel on Feb 6 2016, 11:50am)
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Elarie
Grey Havens
Feb 6 2016, 12:29pm
Post #104 of 190
(10019 views)
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No one should have to laugh this much first thing in the morning. I doff my hood to you Nieriel, but am somewhat in shock - Lego ate Minty's apple? boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, if Thorin gets wind of this there is going to TROUBLE....
__________________
Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.
(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)
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Elarie
Grey Havens
Feb 6 2016, 12:57pm
Post #105 of 190
(10017 views)
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No commentary necessary. Silent adoration will be accepted with #majestic grace.
__________________
Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.
(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)
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Elarie
Grey Havens
Feb 6 2016, 1:30pm
Post #106 of 190
(10012 views)
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do the Par-tei girls know about this peppery honeyed drink? Or is this some new concoction that the Lady Beekeepers came up with after the Mountain King strolled casually past their beehives one day? I'm guessing they needed a strong pick-me-up after watching the warm afternoon breeze waft gently through his hair as he paused and gently plucked a flower, standing lost in memory in the golden sunshine, thinking of days gone by and the glory of Erebor....
Sniff...
__________________
Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.
(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)
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Avandel
Half-elven
Feb 7 2016, 1:10am
Post #108 of 190
(9978 views)
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The secret life of Thorin's beloved...
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Minty’s nostrils distended in outrage. She shook her silky, beribboned mane in annoyance. Anyone observing might have commented on an interesting resemblance to a characteristic gesture of a certain dwarf king.
In any case, according to numerous fan-fics and artwork, Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews inherently possessed many enviable qualities completely appropriate to the leaders of an equine herd. Certainly the body language of the herd of females that Minty dominated over radiated happiness, and the women would often break into rhythmic chants indicating their joy. Minty had initially found the chants to be odd, compared to the nickers and whinnies of her four-legged companions.
Still, horses ARE intelligent, ponies being known to be particularly clever. Plus, this was Middle Earth, and any of its denizens could be expected to possess additional talents not wot of in other worlds. (Like those trees that had bad tempers). So the fluffy pony completely understood the body language of the odd, two-legged fillies. It was a contented herd, and she, Minty, was most definitely the dominant mare. It wasn’t these strange fillies’ fault that they were of a breed who did not sport a long tail like herself, and had to resort to wiggling about all the time.
Who would have thought of it? A lowly pack pony like herself. It had been an ordinary day, all those months ago, when she and the other ponies had been prodded through the tiny village. Minty had stood in the cool darkness before dawn, sleepily gorging on the unexpected bounty of tender flowers neatly laid out before her. And then Minty and the others had smelled HIM. Their new herd leader, so much testosterone wafting through the early dawn air that the nasturtiums had simply dropped from her mouth, and she had chewed hard on the bit in her teeth.
And then, HE had come. Her eyes had rolled a bit and Minty had tossed her mane, taking in the scents of woodsmoke and spices, the magnificent mane. He had stroked her cheek and she had licked salt from the leather-strap’d palm. Cerulean blue eyes had gazed with both fierceness and kindness into her own large liquid rich brown orbs. And with that, Minty’s life had changed forever. He had chosen her. She had found her ONE.
Not that her heart had not been terribly bruised, for a time, after the ponies had fled, that awful day. A group of frightened horses can be an unstoppable force. And she had to admit (for Minty had a good heart) that some of her companions had been unfairly treated. Mountain ponies ARE strong, but it was a bit much for any but a draft horse to be expected to carry that fat dwarf, mile after mile. It wasn’t so much the weight as the shifting center of gravity, at the many curves in the mountain paths. Plus, Bombur’s pony had complained, sometimes he drools when he looks at me, and clutches at that big black pot of his. When he gives me a treat, I worry he’s fattening me up. He’s tried to feed me sugar but I kick at him, every time.
The ponies had been loosely tied together when they all bolted in fear. Minty had been forced to run along with the rest at the fearsome scent of the wargs. She hadn’t wanted to leave her ONE. The only real comfort during that dark time had been when the small, curly-headed being had found her, in Bree, later. He had buried his face against her neck and cried. Minty had smelled her ONE on him. I’ll look after you, the hobbit had said. For HIM.
And so he had, and Bilbo brought Minty an apple every day. But Minty could have told him, if the halfling had been able to understand horse language. HE was coming. He WOULD come, for them both. She would chew at the hobbit’s hair comfortingly. Love could shift mountains, and the Heirs of Durin were BELOVED. Not even death itself would keep HIM from them.
For Minty had large ears, and the blood of her free-roaming wild ancestors. And every day she could hear the earth and the skies, the talk of the birds. Warrior, says the wind. King, says the rain.
Oh, PLZ, says the Elven King. I’m still trying to get the cells sanitized, and whose idea was it to feed the prisoners stewed beans?
ELROS!!!
(Elros had protested that he HAD kept to protocol, after all, it WAS vegetarian. The only PROTEIN they had, plus the nuts. And inexpensive, too. Besides, the dwarves had refused to eat anyway. Thranduil said that was just a cheap ploy to gain sympathy with the audience. Didn’t his ELVISH EYES see the EMPTY plates?
Behind Thranduil, a nameless guard had stood rigidly at attention, with every lithe muscle tightly contracted, silently thanking the Valar for the eerie mask over his face. The stiff elf had fought down a burp. When meals in Thranduil’s kingdom regularly consisted of three peas and a carrot artfully arranged on a plate, you had to grab an opportunity when you could. Besides, the guard had thought, with all the dampness the place smells like mildewed boot socks, so what difference did it make?)
And so, Minty had waited in Bree, occasionally stamping impatiently, every day HIS scent of spices and FIRE and brandy wrapping more closely about her, ruffling her mane. During this time, visitors to the stable would often comment on the bright eyes and spirit of the pony. Some tried to ride her. That was a mistake that left the would-be riders face down in the mud of the stables, to the amusement of onlookers. Minty would only tolerate the occasional pack job, for those times allowed her to see the road where HE would come, he with the most lush of manes and that deep musical voice. The hobbit’s pony had told her she should try to be nicer. But, Minty swished her tail and tossed her head. There could be only one, her ONE.
Then came the night in Bree when Minty’s nostrils flared to the full wave-blast of HIM, all of HIM, the smell of salty sweat and argan oil hair conditioner and spices and ale and smoke, the heavy uneven tread of iron-toed dwarf boots, the cries of human females splitting the air, accompanied by one of those loud rhythmic chants that Minty would come to know so well (“Got me looking so crazy right now!, Your love's got me looking so crazy right now!, Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no!”)
What a reunion that had been! Minty had been so proud, to be able to support her ONE, once more. (Thorin had been having trouble staying upright, thanks to the copious amount of healthful fruit drinks that had been passed around in celebration). Rightfully, the fillies of Thorin’s strange two-legged herd had surrounded her in joy, petting her and the other ponies. There seemed to be no end to the apples and carrots the two-legged fillies could produce. The only slight flaw in the reunion had been when the hobbit fainted, but her ONE’s two handsome colts had simply folded the hobbit facedown on Myrtle for a while, to keep him from being stepped on. So happy Minty had been, she hadn’t even looked back when she and Thorin eventually left the Prancing Pony by that open window. Minty hadn’t really understood that, and it had been a near thing with her sturdy pony frame, but the strength of her ONE had helped worry her through the tight opening.
And since their reunion, Minty’s life had been filled with joy and wonder. Every day was bliss, and filled with interesting things. Like the time she had spent with her ONE in that sweet-smelling yellow forest. There had been so many of those tasty yellow flowers in the grass, and how Thorin had radiated his approval, the more she ate!
Well, naturally. His own darkling locks were so magnificent, and with the consumption of the flowers Minty, too, had both mane and tale that shimmered softly in the moonlight. (The more horse-crazy of the Fang-gir-iells would brush them in awe, saying she was as beautiful “as those ponies of Beorn’s”, whatever that meant).
Minty had been careful to search out every last golden flower there, for life on the road had taught her to take advantage of forage when available. Those strange bony beings with the syrupy voices hadn’t seemed to be too happy about it, but since they all seemed to move in slow motion and unable to focus their eyes, Minty hadn’t paid them much attention. Besides, Thorin had a great big sword.
And so, Minty was well aware of the status she had, on the Partei-Barge. She was the undisputed LEAD MARE. While all the ponies were treated kindly, it was to her the very BEST apples went, every night. Minty usually wasn’t too fussy about who gave her the nightly apple, as by then Thorin would have sung her a bedtime song and made sure her silk pony blanket was snug.
And she knew the next morning she would be at her rightful place at the front of the barge, HIS arm comfortingly around her neck, the morning breeze ruffling her forelock. Anyway, it was usually HIS hobbit, the one who carried the scent of HIM and smelled like honey cake, that most often gave her the night apple. But lately, off and on, a new two-legged filly had been sent to tend to her gleaming mane and tale, to remove the free fertilizer that Minty so thoughtfully provided on a regular basis. (For Minty’s stall must be always pristine and full of the best straw.)
Minty’s frequent gifts were temporarily held in wooden barrels, as was much of the other supplies. Farming communities would cheer as Minty’s barrels were freely distributed whenever the Partei Barge docked in an agricultural community. Although, there HAD been that distressing incident when the Partei-Girls mixed some of the barrels up. The farmers had been happy that day, as they received barrels of fruit marinating in brandy instead of the expected compost.
They said the Partei Barge was welcome any time, and encouraged the Company to return for the Spring Festival that involved “many songs and a great tall pole decorated with ribbons”. (There was lot of Fang-gir-iell snickering at that and mentions of tattoos, and all three Durins had flushed and looked #Majestically at the horizon. Minty, however, had been content with the special crispy oat cakes the farmers gifted the ponies with.)
But Thorin had been none too happy when the Partei-Girls (not possessing the dwarven eyes that were so comfortable in the dark), had accidently mixed barrels of Minty’s thoughtful daily gifts with rum and cherries. After all, wooden barrels look pretty much alike, and the Partei-Girls were not celebrated for their reading skills. As was so often the habit of the Partei-Girls, they set the mixture alight in honor of the Durins. They called the concoction “Cherries Jubilee”.
Once again, the dwarf king would call upon his honed warrior training and royal diplomatic skills. The Mountain King said that, as always, he appreciated the honor shown to Himself and the princes, but perhaps it would be best to offload the barrels to the River, RIGHT NOW. Fortunately the Barge had made it around a bend before the resulting conflagration had truly flared to the night skies, and the Fang-gir-iells had spent the rest of the evening madly laughing and re-writing the lyrics of a “movie theme song.”
So Minty was usually a very contented, friendly, pony. And lately she had not had any reason for unease. But natural wild instincts within her had begun to stir. There was a WRONGNESS here. It’s often said that animals can sense fear, and with this lanky Fang-gir-iell, it wasn’t that, exactly. Minty didn’t have a word for it, but the way this Fang-gir-iell moved was beginning to make her nervous. It was a strange combination of that weird, wafting movement she had seen in those beings from the yellow forest (the one with all the delicious flowers), and the kind of movement she herself had when a stone lodged in her hoof.
As well, there was something not right about this filly’s face. The cheekbones reminded her of something her kind was wary of, a large creature that silently might stalk her on clawed, soft paws. As did the eyes of this Fang-gir-iell, at times, when she looked up. But that was strange too, why did she not look more at Minty? Even the Mountain King would gaze deeply into her eyes, before pulling her head close and rumbling endearments into her large velvety ears every morning. “My little pony”, he would whisper musically in his rough secret language. “Amrâlimê.”
And most of all, this Fang-gir-iell had begun to smell like the man that had stumbled into the stable in Bree that one time, and had slept an entire day on the floor. It had been most annoying for all of the ponies to have to step over. Then man eventually woke up when the goat had wandered in and ate all the man’s clothes. The cold had roused the man and he had fled with peculiar crouched gait, and the ponies had all had a good laugh. But Minty didn’t appreciate anyone smelling like that bringing her the special night apple. Where was the hobbit? HE smelled like brown sugar and Thorin.
And so, Minty tossed her head at the approach of this Fang-gir-iell. She laid back her ears as the Fang-gir-iell reached for her silky mane to steady herself. Minty was used to the often-wobbly gait of her two-legged companions – even Thorin was unsteady on some nights – but this was TOO strange. Not only did this creature smell like the Bree stable-man, her sensitive nostrils caught the whiff of something else. Something in the Fang-gir-iell’s oddly colored hair. That light striping at the base of the filly’s hair reminded Minty of an aggressive, smelly animal she had unfortunately met as a curious foal. AND the hair smelled like those little jars that Thorin’s golden colt would light up and toss into the air!
Minty was having none of THIS. She was used to the coats of HER herd smelling like fruit and herbs and leaves and all manner of good things. Even her own mane and tail smelled of the special rosewater rinse the Fang-gir-iells used. Minty gathered the powerful muscles in her hindquarters, strengthened over so many mountain miles. She kicked.
The Fang-gir-iell moved with impressive speed, Minty had to admit. For Minty rarely missed, when she aimed a hoof. The creature was muttering in some strange breathy language, and seemed to be going to leap to her back. Outrageous! Only Thorin, or at need, the princes or the halfling would ever sully HER in such a way. Minty had no use for this “horse whisperer” nonsense. She kicked again.
This was beginning to be fun, like being able to prance and kick about a field on a bright spring day. Minty would kick, enjoying the stretch to her legs. And the Fang-gir-iell would hop swiftly, but awkwardly, looking like some of the movements of the Partei-girls. Only much, much higher and faster.
Minty thought, now one of the two-legged fillies knows what it is like to have to jump wearing iron shoes.
The Fang-gir-iell finally dodged a hoof that took a large chunk of wood out of the stall, and soared gracefully over Minty to land outside the stall. She landed heavily and winced at the pain in her feet. Bilbo’s pony watched inquisitively. The Fang-gir-iell was slumped on the boards, and said something to Minty in that breathy language that Minty didn’t understand. The tone wasn’t very nice, and then the odiferous Fang-gir-iell actually tossed an apple at Minty! It banged against a board.
But then the Fang-gir-iell’s eyes began to glow like those strange blue lights that Minty had seen the wafting yellow forest creatures use, and the Fang-gir-iell swiftly leapt back into the stall. She dodged a snap from Minty’s teeth and thudded out of the stall again, desperately clutching the apple.
Minty bared her huge gleaming pony teeth at the Fang-gir-iell in a horsey laugh. The hobbit came every night to check on the ponies, and ALWAYS had an extra bit of apple. And carrots, too. It’s not as though Minty would lose sleep over the loss of one apple.
The Fang-gir-iell hobbled quickly away as the very gentle patter of the hobbit’s feet was heard on the wooden floorboards. Bilbo was coming to do his last nightly check on the ponies. When Bilbo arrived, she nuzzled the hobbit affectionately. That had been amusing, Minty thought. And in the morning, HE would come, and she would take her place by his side. Because, as all knew, she was Thorin’s girl.
(This post was edited by Avandel on Feb 7 2016, 1:24am)
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Nieriel
Rivendell
Feb 7 2016, 1:52am
Post #109 of 190
(9965 views)
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I LOVED that! I find Minty's love for Thorin strangely touching - I don't understand it  but I find it touching She is Lead Mare indeed!
I particularly loved this bit and admit to a bit of a 'squee'
She would chew at the hobbit’s hair comfortingly. Love could shift mountains, and the Heirs of Durin were BELOVED. Not even death itself would keep HIM from them. This made me laugh 
Behind Thranduil, a nameless guard had stood rigidly at attention, with every lithe muscle tightly contracted, silently thanking the Valar for the eerie mask over his face. The stiff elf had fought down a burp....
When meals in Thranduil’s kingdom regularly consisted of three peas and a carrot artfully arranged on a plate, you had to grab an opportunity when you could.
And this bit!
Plus, Bombur’s pony had complained, sometimes he drools when he looks at me, and clutches at that big black pot of his. When he gives me a treat, I worry he’s fattening me up. He’s tried to feed me sugar but I kick at him, every time. And, forgive me, I had to gratuitously post this picture because, Gorgeous.
http://favim.com/image/2545271/
"Our loves are not given, but only lent." Rudyard Kipling
(This post was edited by Nieriel on Feb 7 2016, 1:53am)
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Avandel
Half-elven
Feb 7 2016, 2:42am
Post #110 of 190
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*Bows deeply in thanks* - and o'er this love of the ages...
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Between Minty and Thorin...I think the it's just one of those INEFFABLE magical things , the bonding that went on there. Of course, where Thorin is concerned, it only took staring into the "birthday photo" that's been posted and re-done by artists so often I won't even bother to post it - oh, then again, why not.....
that *stoked the flames* of so many Fang-gir-iells , so perhaps that is what happened to Minty. The interesting thing is that Bilbo is also bonded to Thorin, and the Fang-gir-iells seem to be content with the whole situation. I guess there's that innate knowledge of your place in the herd, and for some things Thorin's relationships are SACRED. Minty, of course, is a great support to Thorin on the barge, because while hobbits may be sturdy sometimes the "Shadow and Flame" and "Mithril Monsters" cause even Thorin to be unsteady on his feet.
Oh, I LOVE that picture of Thranduil. I think it's tender and beautiful. Remarkably IMO Thranduil still has a fierceness the artist manages to keep. It's gorgeous!
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Elarie
Grey Havens
Feb 7 2016, 11:44pm
Post #112 of 190
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Absolutely priceless!!!! What tender love, two hearts as one, bound together beyond the circles of this world (sniff)
And this
Even the Mountain King would gaze deeply into her eyes, before pulling her head close and rumbling endearments into her large velvety ears every morning. “My little pony”, he would whisper musically in his rough secret language. “Amrâlimê.”
Laughing out loud so much I had to stop reading
Oh Thorin, you old softie.
So great to finally hear Minty's side of this beautiful love story, and to know that it was love at first sight for both of them. And that Minty's instincts never fail her:
For Minty had large ears, and the blood of her free-roaming wild ancestors. And every day she could hear the earth and the skies, the talk of the birds. Warrior, says the wind. King, says the rain.
Sigh - Absolutely mythic in it's grandeur.
And as for that lovely silky mane and tail - (hold onto your hoods, ladies)... I have Minty's permission to share her secret recipe with all the Fang-gir-iells and Par-tei-Girls, just this once...!!!
(Shhhhhh....)
Oh yeah! Thank you, Minty!
__________________
Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.
(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)
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Nieriel
Rivendell
Feb 8 2016, 12:13am
Post #113 of 190
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"Our loves are not given, but only lent." Rudyard Kipling
(This post was edited by Nieriel on Feb 8 2016, 12:19am)
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Avandel
Half-elven
Feb 8 2016, 5:03pm
Post #114 of 190
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I know, I know, ne'er thought SUCH could BE
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What tender love, two hearts as one, bound together beyond the circles of this world (sniff) Oh, you can talk to me about Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra - even my own relationship with salted caramel (especially when covered with DARK CHOCOLATE - reminds of a certain dwarf king, hur, hur) but I knew NOT what LOVE was, until the magnificent aesthetic and cinematography of Peter Jackson showed us all this ETERNAL FLAME. Two souls, two hearts, and lots and lots of hair, twin'd as ONE.
It is BREATHTAKING to bear witness to this kind of LUV *sob*.
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Avandel
Half-elven
Feb 8 2016, 5:10pm
Post #115 of 190
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Nothing will keep Thorin and Minty apart.
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Elarie
Grey Havens
Feb 8 2016, 9:19pm
Post #116 of 190
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Thorin’s Diary, Part V
The Barbecue - Morning
Early
Well, diary, ever since I started these pages there's been something I thought I'd like to try one day - “blogging” (a word I learned from Ori) throughout the day in real time. Try to give any future biographers all a feeling for what I deal with on an average day.
Today is not exactly “average”, given that it’s the First Annual Balrog Barbecue, but if I don’t do it today, I never will, so here goes…
Yesterday evening Balin, Oin and Ori finally arrived, and what a joyous dwarf reunion it was. The burglar and the boys hugged them warmly and the Fang-gir-iells gave them a royal welcome, replete with the fabled hospitality of the dwarves, a great bonfire and ripe meat from the bone, while the Par-tei Girls looked them over and seemed slightly less enthusiastic but politely handed out drinks all around before returning to their drums and chanting and flaming beverages. The look on Balin’s face when he met the Par-tei Girls was hard to interpret, and for a few moments Ori looked like he was ready to bolt, but Oin seemed pleased and volunteered to give everyone medical check-ups at the first opportunity so now I am doubly glad that he is here. As for Ori, he has volunteered to do sketches to accompany my “blog” and will be following me around all day, but I suspect that the Par-tei Girls are making him nervous and that after watching them test a new, slightly unpredictable, combustable drink call the Balrog Boom he really just wants to stick close by to the greatest warrior in the vicinity.
I had intended to make an early night of it, and recruit my strength for the day ahead, but we stayed up late talking and since then I’ve been lying here in pitch darkness going over my planned wardrobe for the day over and over again, and now it’s time to get up.
Dawn Over Mirrormere - Just after 7.00 am. Have to chuck some mithril armor on and think about going to work.
8.20am. Leaving the Par-tei Boat. Minty is waiting on the ramp to say good morning to me. She does it every day. Good pony.
9.15 The place is waking up and getting busy. The Burglar’s coffee machine is humming, the Fang-gir-iells are down by the lake washing their faces and sticking their little beards back on, the Par-tei girls are stretched out on the deck calling for “espressos” and “lattes” and the boys are helping Balin, Oin and Ori to choose the finest mithril armor and outerwear from the Bling raid. Balin’s face when he saw all that mithril was quite a sight, and he keeps asking me how much more is down in the secret royal bling room. I told him to help himself. He looked at me strangely and told me that I had really changed, but I know not of what he speaks. I have always been the most generous of dwarf lords. Perhaps he has me confused with some other king - the dear old fellow IS getting on in years after all and I often have to smile at him kindly and remind him that “there are still some warriors among us” which makes him feel better.
10.30am The Lady Beekeepers of North Beorning have arrived and have apparently brought their bees with them. Odd. However, they are setting up their charity flower stand, but there has been a slight hitch in their supplies. The journey south was so long that their beautiful flowers from the fields of Beorn have all wilted, so they stopped at the Golden Wood along the way and replenished their stock with those little yellow flowers that grow there. They last for ages after being picked and make lovely corsages and boutonnieres but alas, the ladies had a slight misunderstanding with the crazy blond elf witch who lives there when she caught them picking the flowers and they had to make a fast getaway with only half of a cart load of flowers while the she-witch screamed after them, “That’s IT! No more visitors! I don’t care about your elderly Giant Bees. This Golden Wood is SEALED!” and so on and so forth. I truly don’t understand what elves have against Giant Bees, but overall the ladies’ description of the elf queen’s temper tantrum closely matches my own memories of the time I jokingly drank the contents of her little crystal vial and the poor old dears have all my sympathy. That shrieking, booming voice, that flying hair, that horrible green-black face - it still haunts my nightmares, and as for the way the evil she-elf ventriloquist kept pretending to throw her voice right inside my head…brrrr. I know that I’ve been told she saved my life at Erebor, but really, enough is enough, and after all, the stupid flowers will grow back. Interesting fact, though. I’ve recently found out that the White Witch is actually Elrond’s mother-in-law. Now I understand why he lives in a Hidden Valley. Also, I’ve told the Burglar to fix the bee ladies some nice tea to calm their shattered nerves and I’m hoping against hope that the Lady (as she calls herself) doesn’t come to the Barbecue. There’s not enough tea in the world for that.
Midday - A lot of things happening at once and I’m having to shift from place to place to keep up. It’s time for Fili, Kili and I to change into our Royal Afternoon Dress and prepare to receive guests and I think we’ve managed it pretty well: perfectly cut mithril armor with discreet pearls and diamonds, suitable for day wear; a single mithril weapon in an elegantly simple sheath; plain mithril circlets for the boys and a standard mithril Day Crown with a single priceless diamond the exact size of a raven’s egg in the center for myself; and of course perfectly fitted white dragon skin boots with mithril heels and seed pearl tassels. Jewelry, according to royal garden-party protocol, is restricted to one ring apiece and one simple irreplaceable, priceless brooch each to fasten our cloth-of-mithril, ermine-trimmed, velvet-lined day cloaks. The final result: plain, but elegant, and no one can accuse us of showing off or being over-dressed.
A Few Minutes Later - I was just checking on the progress of the Flower Booth, the Kissing Booths, the Open Bar, the Cooking Area, the Lost & Found Stand and the Burglar’s Coffee Stand, when the Lindir Elf, who was helping the Par-tei Girls to test the marinating fruit at the bar, used his elven eyes to spot riders approaching from the south. I hope it’s not early arrivals, coming early to snag all the best snacks and get a head start on the bar.
Several Minutes Later - Very strange. Two riders just galloped up, strangers in dress and manner the like of which I have never seen, and so we drew our swords and waited expectantly. One rider, a tall, dark-haired man with sea-gray eyes and noble brow, pulled up his horse and stopped, but the other, a handsome fellow with blue eyes and long blond braids and riding a magnificent horse, began galloping in circles around us, starting about 20 yards away and gradually getting closer and closer with each circle. It was interesting at first, but as time went on and he continued to gallop around and around and around and around people started tapping their feet and exchanging looks while the dark haired fellow merely waited patiently, only occasionally sighing and rolling his eyes, until at last the blond horseman pulled up in front of me and called out, “Hail strangers! What do you here?” before sliding off his horse and falling to the ground in a dizzy spell. The poor horse looked a little green around nostrils, too, and no wonder. At this point the dark fellow strolled up, pulled his comrade upright by the collar and leaned him against his horse, which seemed to be trained for this, and then introduced himself as a Man of Gondor, and his friend as a Rider of Rohan. They were come, he said, to investigate a strange, flashing light at the top of the Dimrill Stair, but I have to admit, this fellow was quick, and after gazing at the brilliance of our outfits he realized at once what had happened. In fact, the sun peeked out from behind a white fluffy cloud just then and our dazzling brilliance was so great that they both had to borrow sun glasses from the Par-tei Girls who had edged up close to the visitors and were very politely handing them drinks, asking if they could pet the horsies, and offering to show them around. The strangers seemed a little stunned by the sight of so many ladies dressed in what they call their “Par-tei Armor”, but they didn’t object and so, after promising that I wouldn’t stand on the mountain top again and inadvertently set off a beacon-lighting chain reaction, I left them to it and got on with my tasks.
2.00pm Found the perfect tiara for Minty in the bling pile. As soon as the lanky Fang-gir-iell finishes brushing her and polishing her hooves I will put it on her myself. The lanky girl has seemed a little nervous around Minty lately for some reason and so I made it a point to make her responsible for all of Minty’s upkeep, since there’s no better way to get over a fear of horses than to be around them and learn their ways. Minty, of course, is such a darling that a toddler could take care of her, so I’m not worried about it - it will do the girl good to gain some confidence and maybe help her to overcome her shyness. Alas, Lindir seems to have no interest in her, so I don’t think my plan of throwing them together will come to anything. The Lindir elf spends all his time with the other girls, getting tattoos, learning to dance in dwarf boots and trying his best to eat and drink like a dwarf while the poor tall, skinny Fang-gir-iell slinks round shyly and looks unhappy. I even caught her trying to see what I was writing in my diary one day, but I wasn’t angry; it’s so obvious she has a crush on me and only wanted to see if I had written anything about her. She’s very graceful and has a lovely complexion and if she would just do something with her hair, and perhaps wear a corset to give herself a figure she might have better luck finding a boyfriend. However, I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do about those man-hands - even by dwarf standards those things are a little spooky.
3.00pm - Everything is ready and guests are expected momentarily. Bar opens in one hour.
4.00pm - Amazing how everyone shows up exactly when the Open Bar is open for business. At 3:30 we could see off in the distance a large party approaching, led by a rider on a large antlered animal and of course no one was surprised when Lindir used his elven eyes to confirm that it was, indeed, the King of Smirkwood himself and his big hairy transportation. He’s brought quite a party along with him - footmen, guards, pack-elks carrying chests (presumably with changes of clothing in them), a private tent, his personal traveling wine cellar, and so on and so forth - typical elf nouveau riche extravagance. Really, it looked like the circus was coming to town. Of course, the heirs, the Burglar and I met him with dignified politeness and a formal greeting but I could tell at once that he was astonished by the brilliance and glory of our raiment. Even the Burglar was arrayed like a young prince of the elder days in his mithril shirt from Erebor, which he swears I gave to him although I don’t remember it at all and, considering that his name is “Burglar” I can’t help having doubts, but it matters not, because he has earned it many times over and deserves it. As for Fili, Kili and I - well, the look of stunned amazement on the woodland sprite’s face was payment enough for all the wrongs he has done us. He was speechless, which was certainly a nice change for once, and he even had the decency to park his elk in the designated area and joined the party without showing by so much as a blink of the eye that he felt himself to be sadly underdressed in his floaty, silken robes compared to the full glory of Durins in Royal Dwarf Day Wear.
After that guests started arriving from all directions, the bar opened, the Par-tei Girls started the music, and the Balrog bits rained down from the sky right on schedule.
Also, I think Ori is doing a wonderful job with his sketches. They look so real
To be continued…
__________________
Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.
(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)
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Avandel
Half-elven
Feb 9 2016, 2:55am
Post #117 of 190
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SQUEEE!!!!!!!
And here I thought it would be an ordinary Monday , but OMG to greet the day with more *precious* pages transcib'd in the very hand...those STRONG warrior hands (even if they are silicon nobody does it better) - OMG!!!
Let's get this party started.....
(Hey, GUESS what's in the piñata!!!)
OMG, some of the Company have arrived! *Snicker* Poor Ori....
As for Ori, he has volunteered to do sketches to accompany my “blog” and will be following me around all day, but I suspect that the Par-tei Girls are making him nervous and that after watching them test a new, slightly unpredictable, combustable drink call the Balrog Boom he really just wants to stick close by to the greatest warrior in the vicinity.
LOL, Thorin, call it like it is....
Minty is waiting on the ramp to say good morning to me. She does it every day. Good pony.
Cuz it's a five o'clock world when the whistle blows
No one owns a piece of my time
There's a long-haired girl who waits, I know
To ease my troubled mind, yeah
*Sigh* that *precious and timeless love*. The space folks are already planning to announce a new named constellation, called "Thorin's Heart"...
I know that I’ve been told she saved my life at Erebor, but really, enough is enough, and after all, the stupid flowers will grow back.
Well, they would have. In theory. Except, you know, Thranduil has been spending too much time shopping to pay attention to the ecological balance, and you know those butterflies are migratory, and they needed a place to lay their 'wee eggs...oh, well, I suppose the Lady of the Wood can grow daisies or something next year....and not to worry, as Bilbo has been growing them for years in one of those round clay pots of his.
Oooooooh.......
It’s time for Fili, Kili and I to change into our Royal Afternoon Dress and prepare to receive guests and I think we’ve managed it pretty well: perfectly cut mithril armor with discreet pearls and diamonds, suitable for day wear; a single mithril weapon in an elegantly simple sheath; plain mithril circlets for the boys and a standard mithril Day Crown with a single priceless diamond the exact size of a raven’s egg in the center for myself; and of course perfectly fitted white dragon skin boots with mithril heels and seed pearl tassels. Jewelry, according to royal garden-party protocol, is restricted to one ring apiece and one simple irreplaceable, priceless brooch each to fasten our cloth-of-mithril, ermine-trimmed, velvet-lined day cloaks. The final result: plain, but elegant, and no one can accuse us of showing off or being over-dressed.
Of course, even burlap sacks and that those ratty Laketown bathrobe things did not dim the GLORY of the Durins, but the thought of that smokey Chiaroscuro against CREAMY rainment sparked with silver *THUD*.
a handsome fellow with blue eyes and long blond braids and riding a magnificent horse, began galloping in circles around us, starting about 20 yards away and gradually getting closer and closer with each circle. It was interesting at first, but as time went on and he continued to gallop around and around
ROFLMAO!!! Better get some of the ladies' pick-me-ups into the proud rider, that will set him right. Possibly right back to the ground, but as we know the ladies use lots of fruit, so at least he'll get his daily vitamin C quota (as well as a good rest after that long ride.)
She’s very graceful and has a lovely complexion and if she would just do something with her hair, and perhaps wear a corset to give herself a figure she might have better luck finding a boyfriend. However, I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do about those man-hands - even by dwarf standards those things are a little spooky.
Guess the Wonder Bra didn't do much good - geez, that's gotta STING. It's not even that Thorin is being indifferent, it's worse, he's being KIND. *Ouch*. (But ALL knew that Minty is Thorin's ONE). Even more humiliatingly, Lindir is more interested in embracing his inner DWARF. I'm really beginning to understand why the shy Fang-gir-iell sent all those letters by pigeon carrier. Thranduil might have paid more attention, except his ever-hungry guards once again made the most of opportunity.
He was speechless, which was certainly a nice change for once, and he even had the decency to park his elk in the designated area and joined the party without showing by so much as a blink of the eye that he felt himself to be sadly underdressed in his floaty, silken robes compared to the full glory of Durins in Royal Dwarf Day Wear.
OMG. OMG. Now, I bet Thranduil wishes he had been NICER to the dwarves. OMG. Oh, well, at least there is plenty of water around, and the locals will appreciate the large crater that is likely to be the result of this VOLATILE situation. (Later, they can fill it with water and have curling competitions and skating in the winter!)
I can only express my deepest gratitude for these transrib'd pages, and bow in wonder at the generousness in the sharing. Gandalf would be proud of the thoughtfulness (well, he would be, if he weren't getting his teeth worked on after the latest bout of Galadriel's baking).
I salute you!
(This post was edited by Avandel on Feb 9 2016, 2:58am)
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Avandel
Half-elven
Feb 9 2016, 3:16am
Post #118 of 190
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PS - OMG, is Thrandy going to do the BB evening music?
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Well, that will give Thorin a break, anyway. And now we know how Thranduil can afford all the bling....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82CKv0RHef8
It could be Thorin and Minty's new song!
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Nieriel
Rivendell
Feb 9 2016, 4:37am
Post #119 of 190
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Gandalf's Diary - Barbecue Day
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Well there I was sitting on a tree stump at dusk waiting for the first stars to appear with a huge plate of Balrog Bits and a wizard sized tankard of Malt Beer, all with my name on it, when I suddenly became aware of a tugging at my sleeve."Yes?" I said, turning to look hard into the face of an Elf who was clothed in the livery of a Footman.
"Oh Mr Gandalf, come quick! It's the king, it is, he's in a right old tizz!" The Footman said with a face full of alarm. "We don't know what to do!" The Footman continued as he tugged further on my sleeve to emphasize the point.
"Who are you talking about?" I said, my voice laden with wizard mystery. "There are at least two kings here that I am aware of. Granted, Thorin Oakenshield is not technically king anymore but still .. And the
other king is..."
"It's the other king, Mr Gandalf, the Elvenking, innit? Please come quick, Mr Gandalf, it's urgent!" The Footman cried, literally hopping from one foot to another, such was his haste to be away.
"What exactly is the problem? ... Erm ... I'm afraid I don't know your name." I said irritatingly slowly.
"Galion, Mr Gandalf, my name is Galion, please come! We don't know 'oo else to trust, nuffink round 'ere 'cept dwarves and mortals. Gives yer the creeps, it does." Galion said with a shudder.
"Oh very well, Galion, but if this isn't urgent I swear by ..." I began crossly putting down my plate and grabbing my staff and hat.
"Ooh it's very urgent, Mr Gandalf, I ain't never seen the likes in all my days..." Galion interrupted, literally dragging me towards the Elvenking's lavish encampment of silken tents laden with tapestries and ablaze with the light of hundreds of tiny lamps. I was pulled along a line of 2000 Guard Elves clad in gold and red who stamped and clashed to attention as we passed. My senses whirled at the sound of a distant Elvish harp on the scented breeze, I could hear laughter and song from the various tents. Finally I was dragged into a huge saffron hued, silk draped tent that was scented with the oil of countless jasmine flowers. As my eyes adjusted to the golden lamplight I saw a large ornate carved day bed dressed in vermilion silks upon which an elegant, male and doubtless Elvish figure lay prone, his silken hair splayed on the blood red silk pillows that supported his pale blonde head. Beside the bed lay three empty bottles of what had once contained wine, a plate of half eaten Balrog Bits and an empty glass. The prone Elf's face was covered with a silk cloth that resembled an oversized hankie which was kept in place by the back of the Elf's ring adorned hand in a graceful, if not rather melodramatic manner. He was dressed in golden silk embroidered with tiny diamonds and upon his feet where soft knee length boots which were decorated with stylized images of stags etched in silver. His sword lay cast aside like an unwanted toy, as did a silver circlet adorned with a diamond. Several anxious looking Elven footmen and servants gazed upon him, their faces riven with concern.
"My Lord, Thranduil, is that you?" I ventured cautiously taking a step towards him across the seeming acres of rugs which adorned the floor of the tent.
"Nnughghhh!" A voice from under the hankie muttered.
"How long has he been like this!" I cried turning roundly on Galion who was standing by my side wringing his hands in despair.
"Since we got 'ere. Sumfink upset him as soon as we arrived and ..." Galion's voice faltered and filled with anguish. "In fact, my Lord was so affected he ..." Galion strangled down his tears. "He parked his own Elk, called for wine and after two bottles he started demandin' Balrog Bits and then he sang a rude song wot he heard them dwarf girls singing and collapsed onto the day bed and hid under that there hankersniff." And with this Galion dissolved into convulsive tears.
"What manner of sorcery is this!" I bellowed dramatically, banging my staff and darkening my features, and before I could get an answer I discerned what sounded like a scuffle at the door to the tent.
"I demand to see my father!" A disembodied voice cried with the sort of entitlement only Elf royalty possess.
"Nnnnuughhhh!" The supine king responded with a surprising amount of spirit, if not downright objection. Further thoughts of mine where momentarily lost when the owner of the entitled voice burst in and threw himself onto his knees by the king's bed-side.
"Father! Why have you not sent for me?" The intruder implored with some desperation before three of the Footmen grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him bodily away from the king. "Father, it is I, Legolas!" He continued as he struggled against the Footmen who were about to call the Guards. "Why will you not receive me, Ada?"
"Who ARE you?" I thundered, pointing the tip of my staff in the intruder's direction "You are no more Legolas of the Woodland Realm than I am!"
"Mithrandir, it is I, Legolas. These many days past I have been working for my father ..." This statement was interrupted by the 'king under the hankie'. "Pffffft!" He sounded indignant and somewhat peeved. Legolas, if indeed that's who he was, continued. "I have been working for my father in the capacity of spy on the Par Tei Barge, for this purpose it was necessary for me to disguise myself as dwarf..."
"Is this true, my Lord?" I whispered hastening to the king's bedside.
"Meh .... 'warves .. Mithrilly, withrilly 'warves!" The king replied vaguely waving his free hand in the air. I turned to Galion and instructed him to seek out the Halfling and procure a large pot of Coffee, for I heard it many times that day that the Halfling's Coffee could cure much, and I was all out of ideas against such witchcraft.
"If what you say is true, stranger and now that I look at you, it could be so. I see a remarkable overuse of Root Rescue, I see your father's eyes in yours, the iron boots and the leather corset have thrown me somewhat .. Upon my oath! Is THAT a wonder bra, Legolas Greenleaf? For shame! But I will trust my instincts at this time. I must inform you that your father is gravely ill, and ..." My eyes wandered to the remains of the Balrog Bits. "Something has upset him deeply. I have never known your father to eat anything other than grapes..."
"Fermented grapes, Mr Gandalf." Galion added helpfully.
"Quite. Fermented grapes in over 5000 years. What possessed him to .... Why are you still here, Galion? Seek out the Halfling at once!"
"Pssssst! Gadalf! Gondolf!" The king whispered urgently lifting up the hankie just a fraction and interupted my diatribe.
"Yes, my Lord, I am here" I bent my benevolent head closer to the king.
"I thing *hic* that I might have hadded some Bagrog Bits" The king said softly before, and may Eru perserve us, breaking into a giggle.
"Fear not, help is on it's way. Rest for a moment." The king dropped the hankie back onto his face again and began to hum tunelessly to himself one of the Par Tei girls tunes I'd heard earlier which was interrupted only when Galion half fell into the tent in his haste to deliver the Coffee. There are only so many choruses of "If you liked it then you should've put a ring on it" one can tolerate, even if it is hummed by a king.
"We may already be too late, Galion. He's in a bad way. I thought every fool knew that Balrog and fermented grapes don't mix. In Elves it causes a toxic reaction that acts as too much wine does in mortal man! Make haste and pour a goodly amount of this Coffee into a cup, Galion and hold it to his lips, he must drink it all if there is to be any benefit." I ordered firmly as Galion approached the king and made several attempts to remove the hankie entirely from the king's face to no avail.
"Now, now, my Lord, you 'ave to do it, 'cos Mr Gandalf 'ere ordered this special, like. Now, now no bitin' if you please, my Lord, that's very naughty! ... Just lift the hankie a little bit .. Ha, ha, ha! Boo to you too my Lord! There .. Not so bad, is it? Drink it all up now .. There .." And at last the cup was drained. Tense moments passed as the king's lightning speed Elven metabolism processed the Coffee. Suddenly the king's hand shot out in the direction of Galion in a 'more!' gesture and Galion once again lovingly held the full cup for his king to drink. Silence hung in the air for moments as all eyes were on the king as he slowly peeled the hankie off his face, turned his eyes on Legolas and gestured to a tear-stained Galion to help him to his feet.
"YOU! YOU, Legolas had ONE job!" The king hissed, his eyes full of fury. The diamonds on his robes glinting in the lamplight.
"You have no idea what it was like, father! Day in, day out, all those girls making fun of me. They made me wear this!" Legolas cried pulling savagely at the pink bra strap.
"And YOU have no idea what it was like to be greeted by a hoard of Durins dressed in more Mithril than you could shake a mucky stick at!" Thranduil whispered with malice as the tension built up between his brows turning his fair face into a vision of barely contained menace.
"What?" Legolas cried in confusion.
"YOU were put on that boat to SPY on the Durin scum and you did NOTHING!"
"Nothing?" Legolas visibly slumped under the weight of his father's scorn.
"No! No! I am wrong, I forgot! You DID do something!" The king spat in a voice dripping with irony. "YOU cleaned the Mithril THEY shamed me with! Even the Halfling was wearing Mithril! Oakenshield's precious Minty was wearing a king's ransom of a tiara on her head which was probably held together, by guess what? Oh yes! More Mithril! Tell me, Legolas HOW did you NOT notice all that MITHRIL?"
"How was I to know what it was?" Legolas piped up sulkily. "You only let me wear washable fabrics!"
"And we KNOW why that is, do we not?" Thranduil said mysteriously, reaching for a glass from a smiling Galion's tray, as I slipped quietly away into the night in the full knowledge that normality, or whatever passes for it in Mirkwood, for now, had returned.
"Our loves are not given, but only lent." Rudyard Kipling
(This post was edited by Nieriel on Feb 9 2016, 4:46am)
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Nieriel
Rivendell
Feb 9 2016, 5:37am
Post #120 of 190
(9805 views)
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That was a hard act to follow!
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Nieriel
Rivendell
Feb 9 2016, 5:38am
Post #121 of 190
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going through his Beyonce phase at the moment That other guy could possibly be a long lost relative .. as in banished from the Kingdom 'lost' 
(This post was edited by Nieriel on Feb 9 2016, 5:41am)
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Elarie
Grey Havens
Feb 9 2016, 2:52pm
Post #123 of 190
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This is so much fun.
And double thanks for bringing the piñata - the one thing those Par-tei Girls forgot! However, rumor has it that someone has special plans for it...
So glad Thorin could brighten up your Monday, but then Thorin pretty much brightens up EVERY day, doesn't he?
Yeah, I do, I really do
__________________
Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.
(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)
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Elarie
Grey Havens
Feb 9 2016, 3:22pm
Post #124 of 190
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Laughing out loud and can barely drink my tea.
OMG - I LOVE Galion! "hankersniff" had me laughing so hard I had to wipe my eyes with a tissue hankersniff of my own. Poor Thranny, thank goodness Gandalf heard about the barbecue (by moth mail, no doubt) and decided to attend. And now what will Leggie do? Too many people now know about his disguise. If this was an episode of "Spooks" they would all have to be "eliminated" but fortunately both elf and dwarf protocol forbids the slaying of party guests or the drawing of ornamental dress weapons after drinks have been served. Whew!
Hopefully, Gandalf can now get back to his Balrog Bits and Malt Beer, but if he's looking forward to a peaceful evening of music and fascinating conversation, well...he's forgotten his last dinner with the dwarves.
__________________
Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.
(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)
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Avandel
Half-elven
Feb 9 2016, 5:51pm
Post #125 of 190
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You know, that freaked me out. But now I know how Thrandy looks in BLACK *thud*
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