The Splintered Chamberpot - Bard's Festival All invited

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

The Splintered Chamberpot - Bard's Festival All invited

Postby erinhue » Fri Mar 28, 2003 10:00 am

The sound of rustling papers, tossed objects and mumbled cursing came from Erinhue’s office in the Bard’s Guildhouse, Calenrond. From its perch on a shelf in a large bookcase, Agarak, the bard’s dragonharp, sent up a few notes of inquiry<BR><BR><BR><BR>“I can’t find it.” Erinhue said in response to the harp’s unspoken question. “ I have searched everywhere but I can’t find even a thread that will show I already have a permit to operate a tavern in The Prancing Pony.” In another moment the frustrated bard turned towards the green-gold harp. “You know none of this would be necessary if you hadn’t burned the place down.”<BR><BR><BR><BR>A few more notes rose from the harp’s untouched strings<BR><BR><BR><BR>“I know there is a ban on opening new inns and taverns in the Pony but the Splintered Chamberpot isn’t a new establishment and it isn’t an ordinary tavern either. <BR><BR><BR><BR>The Splintered Chamberpot is the Guild’s Songhouse. We intend to use it as a platform for presenting our songs and poems and stories and to use it in the ranking structure of the Guild itself. It would also serve as an outlet for those traveler who would also like to bring their own poems and stories out for the entertainment and enlightenment of the TORC population. It would not be just another thread for idle chatter, the membership will be avid posters and will see that the thread remains a vialble entity with a definable purpose.”<BR><BR><BR><BR>After a small pause, the dragonharp played a short spurt of tinkly high notes.<BR><BR><BR><BR>“It sounds reasonable to me too” Erinhue agreed, “but I can’t be certain how The Powers That Be will view it.” The bard narrowed his eyes and gazed into the jeweled red eyes of the little dragon. “None of this would be necessary if you…”<BR><BR><BR><BR>A sharp jangled chord drowned out the rest of the sentence. <BR><BR><BR><BR> “ All right, all right, “ and the bard raised his hand for silence. “I will admit it was not totally your fault and it was an effective way to deal with that drunken troll, but I was handling it. You don’t have any patience, but then what should I exect from a harp. Come on now, its time to go see how The ‘Pot is coming along.<BR><BR><BR><BR>Erinhue picked up the harp and laid his hand flat against the strings. In a moment both bard and instrument disappeared from the room.
Last edited by erinhue on Fri May 28, 2004 1:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby erinhue » Fri Mar 28, 2003 10:01 am

A sudden gust of gentle wind stirred up a flurry of flower petals. The colorful bits swirled around and around forming a blossom cloud. From the midst of the swirling, fragrant blizzard stepped Erinhue still holding the harp in the crook of his arm. There at the forest’s end in a meadow glen down by the Withywindle where its lazy waters met with the Brandywine River, the bard’s sea gray eyes scanned over the budding green flat where the Bard’s Guild’s SongHouse had once stood.<BR><BR>In its place was small wooden shack that was too narrow for even two to enter at the same time. There was a quarter moon shaped window in the only door and the grass for a few feet all around it was more lush and verdant than any other spot in the glen.<BR><BR>Three smaller box like branches protruded from the three sides of the little structure and each one bore a tiny crescent shaped window. When the songhouse had completely regenerated itself these would be the branching wings of the sprawling enchanted edifice. Erinhue walked completely around it, stopping once to peek through the blue glass of one of the crescent moon windows. Satisfied with what he saw, Erinhue stepped back until he was standing outside the patch of luxuriant grass.<BR><BR>“It looks like the place is coming along nicely and with a little help we should have it all grown up in time for the next Festival.”<BR><BR>Agarak’s red eyes flashed and rolled to focus on the small shack that had grown a barely perceptible amount in the time since they arrived. The daragonharp’s ruby eyes flashed once again and a few deep notes floated from its untouched strings.<BR><BR>“Yes I know, Agarak, but what am I supposed to do.” Erinhue sighed and sought out a rock or stump to make into a suitable seat. “ I think the permit was in the ‘Pot when you… it burned the last time. I had one, Im sure some one remembers the Splintered Chamberpot from its last incarnation. I hope that enough of them will stop by to wish us well that The Powers That Be might over look the fact that I don’t have an actual document to show them. That’s all I…we can do right now.<BR><BR>Looking ever on the bright side of any situation, Erinhue found his seat and sat down on a log. “They say music hath charms,” Erinhue said aloud “ and I know just which piece will work the charm we need to get the Splintered ChamberPot to grow back to its old self. Hopefully this petition will work a charm on The Powers That Be and the Pot will be able to open as soon as it is ready to open.<BR><BR>Swinging the harp into playing position, Erinhue set his fingers to the strings and played an accompaniment to the song he began to sing.<BR><BR>“99 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>99 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 98 bottles of beer on the wall.”
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Postby Hobbituk » Fri Mar 28, 2003 3:09 pm

“98 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>98 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 97 bottles of beer on the wall.” <BR><BR>A voice, higher in pitch than the Master Bard's rose into the air and joined in Erinhue's song. Not far away Hobbi stopped and looked around the glade where the Bard sat with a fed-up look on his face and plucked at his harp. <BR><BR>Hobbi looked around, taking in all the scenery. Looking carefully as if he were trying to memorise it lest it disapear and be lost forever. He let out a long whistle from between his teeth, <BR>"So this is the place huh?"<BR><BR>Erinhue turned at Hobbi's arrival and winked at him warmly, "How are ya partner?"<BR><BR>Hobbi began walking again, approaching the log upon which his old friend sat. He carried his old skin drum under his arm and he wore a beaming smile, "I'm fine Hue," he said, "But I..."<BR>"Good journey?" Hue interrupted. Hobbi put on a mock scowl and replied cautiously,<BR>"It was fine, I..."<BR>"And the others? How are they?"<BR>"They are fine! I am fine, every<i>thing</i> is fine! Now please stop interrupting! I came to see if you'd found that dratted permit yet? We need it you know, the festival is only a few days away and if we aint got nowhere to hold it then we are in bother!"<BR><BR>Erinhue looked away to hide the slightly shamefaced expression that crossed his face, <BR>"Um...no, not yet."<BR>"You ever gonna find it?"<BR>"Not likely."<BR>"It still exists though?"<BR>"Doubt it."<BR>"We're in a lot of trouble then?"<BR>"Oh yeah."<BR><BR>There was silence and Hobbi sat down on the dry grass by the feet of the Bard. The Bard plucked the harp again and began to play once more. Hobbi lifted the drum and set it upon his lap, he tapped out a simple rhythm to the melody.<BR><BR><BR>In unision, the two Bards...large and small, opened their mouths and sang together...<BR><BR><BR>“97 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>97 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 96 bottles of beer on the wall....” <BR>
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Postby Guruthostirn » Fri Mar 28, 2003 3:52 pm

“97 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>97 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 96 bottles of beer on the wall....” <BR><BR>Striding along through the grass, Anorast heard the song wafting from near a strange building. Drawing closer, he found Master Erinhue and Hobbituk sitting on a log, watching the structure. Looking closer, Anorast could see it was growing.<BR><BR>"Hello there 'Hue, Hobbituk! I heard this was where the next festival was gonna take place, so I thought I'd show up and check it out."<BR><BR>"Yep, this is the place," said Erinhue. "However, we're kinda waiting on the Splintered Chamber Pot to finish maturing, and there's another problem..."<BR><BR>"Hmm, so that's it? I've heard lots, but it's looking pretty amazing.<BR><BR>"Hey, don't you need a permit for a bar here?"<BR><BR>"Uhh...yeah...that's the other problem," answered Hobbituk, speaking up. "Apparently we don't have the one we used to any more..." He looked pointedly at Erinhue.<BR><BR>"Hey, don't look at me! It wasn't my fault!" From Agarak a few sharp notes came. "Alright, I was partially responsible...but I wasn't the only one!"<BR><BR>"Ok, so what now?"<BR><BR>"Well, we're working on getting another one..." 'Hue looked rather dubious, but hopefull at the same time.<BR><BR>"Well, we had better get one! From what I've heard, this place is Definitely not your standard bar! It's more of a standing bardic gathering! It's an extension of the Bard's Guild, and though others might pop in, if they don't follow the guidelines, I'm Sure they'll be asked to leave, right?" Anorast looked at 'Hue for confirmation.<BR><BR>"They will surely give you this permit! It's our place to do what we do, our guild stuff!<BR><BR>"Ok, tirade over. What can I say, I got a bit worked up when I heard this place might not happen...well, I gotta go, pressing business elsewhere. Hope things work out!"<BR><BR>Waving to Erinhue and Hobbituk, Anorast took off walking up the Withywindle. After a short bit, a few words wafted up the water towards him...<BR><BR>“96 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>96 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 95 bottles of beer on the wall....”
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Postby Elenath » Fri Mar 28, 2003 5:29 pm

"96 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>96 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 95 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR>Elenath followed the unlikely sound, and came upon an unlikely sight. That old shack... was it growing? Ah, but of course! This must be... "Master Erinhue! So good to see you. Is this where our Festival is supposed to be?"<BR><BR>Erinhue nodded. "This is the place all right, but, well, there might be a couple problems."<BR><BR>"Problems?"<BR><BR>"We're missing a certain permit, you see..."<BR><BR>"Ah, say no more." Elenath shook her head. "I've been there. I hope we can work it out, though: what a wonderful place this is. But don't let me interrupt you... I hope you don't mind if a join you for a while?"<BR><BR>Erinhue shook his head, grinning, and gestured broadly. "Not at all, the more the merrier!"<BR><BR>Elenath sat down on the springy turf and joined in the singing.<BR><BR>"95 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>95 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 94 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR>
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Postby Nessamelda » Fri Mar 28, 2003 6:25 pm

The door of the little wooden shack opened, and out walked the familiar figure of a tall scrawny scribe. However Alfirin was clearly not expecting either the company or the location into which she walked, for she was occupied hitching up the leggings that she wore under her skirt. Quickly she readjusted her attire; if she was prone to blushing she would surely have done so.<BR><BR>She stood there with her hands on hips and survered the clearing, the buildings and the amused onlookers, with a look of bemusement. The last thing that she remembered was that she had been using the ...... facilities... that she had found, oddly but for her conveniently placed in the middle of nowhere, in a wood on the northern borders of Rohan.<BR><BR>"So this is your trickery is it?" she said, casting her stern eye upon the dragon harp and Master Erinhue in turn. "but for the perpertrators of such an amusing little joke" (her voice did not sound amused in the slightest!) "you look strangely glum. And that is one of the most doleful renditions of a drinking song that I have heard".<BR><BR>"We need a permit. " explained the Master Bard. "To set up this Inn. I am sure m'darlin', that with the necessary permits the building will be less tricksy and more respectful of such august personalities as your grace!'<BR><BR>"Humph", said Alfirin.<BR><BR>"We have a petition", said Hobbi, producing a grubby peice of paper with a few scrawled signatures. "Do you want to sign?".<BR><BR>Alfirin laughed. "Do you call that a petition! It will impress nobody.!" Pulling out her pen, gold ink and a sheet of parchment, she quickly dashed off an impressive looking document. <a target=new href="http://www.pbase.com/image/14823407">"here"</a>, she said. "Now that is a petition!"
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Postby Aerin » Fri Mar 28, 2003 8:21 pm

"95 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>95 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 94 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR><i>Aerin laughed as she entered the clearing, the sound of her clear laughter blending with the song. She stopped before her husband, her eyes twinkling.</i><BR><BR>"What is this, my love? I see you and our friends sitting here, at the site of the Chamberpot. But you're singing <i>that</i> song!"<BR><BR><i>She shook her head, grinning.</i> "Where is the petition I heard of?"
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Postby SilverScribe » Fri Mar 28, 2003 8:24 pm

((OOC: Thanks Aerin! TORC is giving me errors and grief, I'll also edit you in!! <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0>))<BR><BR>IC:<BR><BR><i> Scribbles reined in her tall warhorse and cocked a sharp ear, listening intently. There. There it was again, scraps of something carried on the occassional wisp of breeze that wafted up from the shallow valley below. It sounded faintly like a skin drum and snatches of singing. Her natural curiosity aroused, she turned her horses head and urged him down the oddly familiar cart track that led away from the higher, wider road.<BR><BR>A few minutes later, she emerged from the thinning underbrush onto the edges of a wide, lush meadow that meandered down to where the Withywindle lazily merged with the Brandywine. And there, to one side, was a very odd company indeed. A short distance from a strange little shack sat her Guildmaster Erinhue, his lovely wife Aerin, along with friends and fellow Bards Hobbituk, Lady Elenath and if she was not mistaken, the Dowager Duchess Alfirin.<BR><BR>They were all lustily singing, and now she could make out the words as she dismounted and led her horse over . . .</i><BR><BR>"94 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>94 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 93 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR><i> Erinhue looked up as she sauntered over.</i><BR><BR>"Well, well well, if it isn't the old Scribe. What brings you here?" <i> he asked, flashing his star bright grin. <BR><BR>Scribbles laughed.</i> "What indeed, I could hear you lot howling all the way to the wastes of Rhudaur! What's the occasion?"<BR><BR>"The Pot," <i> Hue replied.</i><BR><BR>"The Pot?"<i> Scribbles echoed.</i><BR><BR>"The Pot."<i> Hobbi confirmed solemnly. Scribbles glanced at Elenath, who nodded gravely, then at Alfirin, who sniffed haughtily but also nodded affirmation. Aerin laughed lightly, a silvery sound in the clear air.</i><BR><BR>"The Pot," <i> Scribbles repeated, then scratched her head. Ah, now it was clearer why the place seemed familiar. </i> "You mean the Splintered Chamberpot? What's happened to it, didn't it used to be . . . um . . . right here? I seem to remember my first performance ever and being inducted into the Guild there, er, here . . ."<BR><BR><i>She trailed off and turned to survey the strangely empty meadow, and equally strange little shack.</i><BR><BR>"Ah yes, that's the very selfsame Pot," <i> Hue confirmed, nodding at the shack which suddenly seemed a few centimeters larger than it had when she arrived. She rubbed her eyes and then stared hard at the thing, but no new movement was to be seen. She looked back at Hue, still puzzled.</i><BR><BR>"THAT is not the Pot," <i> she stated flatly.</i> "Okay, what's the problem?" <i> she asked, point blank.</i><BR><BR>"The permit," <i> Hue answered.</i><BR><BR>"The permit?"<i> she echoed.</i><BR><BR>"The permit," <i> Aerin chimed in.</i><BR><BR>"The permit." <i> Hobbi confirmed.</i> "And the petition."<BR><BR>"The petition?" <i> Scribbles asked.</i><BR><BR>"The petition," <i> Hue echoed.</i><BR><BR>"Yes, the petition." <i> Alfirin confirmed and held out a beautifully scripted parchment. Scribbles took it and read it quickly, then looked up at the group.</i><BR><BR>"But I don't understand. What happened to the Pot? The REAL Pot?"<i> Hue opened his mouth to speak but Agarak sounded a quick, sharp trill and he closed it again without saying a word. Scribbles held up a hand, rolling her eyes.</i><BR><BR>"Okay, okay, don't bother. I heard a vague rumour sometime back that the Harp burned the place down but then again, you know how rumours are. And dragonharps."<BR><BR><i> Agarak let off a series of notes that had a definite sarcastic edge to them and Scribbles laughed again.</i><BR><BR>"I guess it doesn't matter. If a petition and some loud, rowdy singing are what's needed now, count me in."<BR><BR><i> She found a spot on a large, moss covered rock and joined in the next loud, raucous chorus.</i><BR><BR>"93 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>93 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 92 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR><BR>
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Postby Aerin » Fri Mar 28, 2003 8:30 pm

(<i>*pssst!*</i> Scribbles! You went from 93 bottles to 93 bottles!)
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Postby Wisteria » Sat Mar 29, 2003 6:32 am

<i>It had been two festivals since Wiste had performed and she was nervous about the upcoming one. Her muse had hidden herself somewhere, coming out of hiding only to inspire her to write a poem about being a fan. Not the kind that kept one cool, but a fanatic-type fan. Oh, well, what did it matter?<BR><BR>She hurried along the path, hoping to find inspiration at the building of the Splintered Chamberpot itself. Maybe there she would be able to write a poem about fools.<BR><BR>The sound of singing came to her through the trees:</i><BR><BR>"92 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>92 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 91 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR><i>Entering the clearing, it appeared that the singers had perhaps been doing more than just singing about those bottles of beer. Several sat on rocks, a few had arrayed themselves on the ground, and a huge warhorse grazed to the side. She knew that warhorse -- and the white-haired rider that rode it. Approaching them from behind, she identified them all -- Bards! Except for the dowager -- who had not yet joined in the singing.<BR><BR>She opened her mouth to ask what was going on when a loud hum interrupted the singing. Everyone turned to stare at the little shack in the center of the clearing. With a sharp crack! the building shivered and another entire room popped out of the side.</i>
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Postby Teltasarewen » Sat Mar 29, 2003 7:38 am

<i>Telta had heard the rumours and had wanted to check them out. Word had it that the Guild Master was trying to re-re-open the Splintered ChamberPot. Exactly what re-re-open meant she wasn't sure but there must be some fascinating story behind it.<BR><BR>"92 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>92 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 91 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR>A rather loud but catchy tune caught her sensitive hearing and she followed it. There sitting on the ground was a small group of Bards and friends and in the center was the Guild Master himself.<BR><BR>Not far off to the side was a small shack and Telta went over to look more closely at it. Could this be the famous Splintered ChamberPot? The diminuitive dwelling didn't look like it could hold much of anything.<BR><BR>As she watched she would have sworn that it was moving...no growing! It was growing! There was some form of enchantment going on here.<BR><BR>She backed away until she was nearly tripping over the assembled group. Turning to Erinhue she asked..</i><BR><BR>Is that the Splintered ChamberPot I've heard so much about? And if so why is it so....small?<BR><BR>"A loud crack had her spinning around to look back at the area where the little building was and she watch as an entire room literally sprouted from the side of it.</i><BR><BR>"Umm never mind."<i>There was definitely a tale here one worth watching to it's close.</i> <BR><BR>"I think if you don't mind I'll join you. I've got to see what happens next."<BR><BR><i>Erinhue smiled</i> "Grab yourself a seat darlin and join in."<BR><BR><i>Telta sat down joining in the next round of the tune she had followed here...</i><BR><BR>"91 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>91 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 90 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR>*******<BR>Telta-Master Bard<BR>Official Vana Honourary Adoptee<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0><BR>Wielder of "Bethlompalan"-Star Ring of the Tale Bearer<BR>E.O.<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>
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Postby syde » Sat Mar 29, 2003 3:02 pm

Syde looked at the little wooden cabin in the woods. So this was supposed to be the place where the Splintered Chamberpot had been. It didn't struck her as great and wonderful as the story's she had heard about it. Although this was ofcourse not the way it had been before. As she moved closer and checked out the cabin she heard cheery voises inside;<BR><BR><i>"91 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>91 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 90 bottles of beer on the wall...."</i><BR><BR>The voises where so cheery and full of joy that she decided to go in and have a look at this place. As she walked into the room she began to sing;<BR><BR><i>"90 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>90 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 89 bottles of beer on the wall...."</i>
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Postby prmiller » Sat Mar 29, 2003 6:16 pm

<i>Parm was learning to ride a horse. Why? So finally he could<BR>travel to visit new friends without hitching wagons, borrowing<BR>Rohan-bred horses, or walking. His first foray was to visit his<BR>friends for a serious venture. As he approached them, the<BR>strains of a familiar song reached him...and he laughed! It<BR>was *that* song! Well, he had heard that cherished songs of<BR>praise to Eru had once been bar songs baptized with more<BR>uplifting lyrics. Still...it was a song of solidarity and rather than<BR>joining in, he started off the other singers with...</i><BR><BR>"89 bottles of beer on the wall...". <BR><BR><i>They needed no further prompting. Voices soprano and alto, tenor and bass revelled with the lyrics, until with a mighty cheer they reached the finale...</i><BR><BR>To 88 bottles of beer on the wall...." <BR><BR><i>Alfirin's petition glimmered with justified beauty. From the<BR>folds of his special robe, Parm withdrew his ever-present<BR>pouch of quills and ink. Carefully preparing the quill, Parm<BR>reached down and signed his name.</i><BR><BR>There. Now, I shall add this. <BR><BR><i>He produced another parchment upon which was written<BR>a characteristic rhyme, penned with obvious affection.</i><BR><BR><b>To Hearts who Yearn for Joy</b><BR>Can a name hold such affection <BR>spoken fondly and with pride,<BR>where folks come from each direction<BR>some will walk and others ride?<BR>Why would bards who honor valor<BR>join in ranks to beg a boon?<BR>On their cheeks is passion's pallor,<BR>that this place might open soon.<BR>Twice the doors have closed upon it,<BR>lock and key have parted twice;<BR>now with ranks grown high in merit<BR>pray that this not happen thrice.<BR>So this poet turns with query,<BR>"Can no room be found, no lot,<BR>for a place so bright and cheery <BR>called the Splintered Chamberpot?"<BR>
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Postby Hidden_Ring » Sat Mar 29, 2003 11:14 pm

<i>Walking along the Greenway towards Bree, a lone elf sings softly to verses of a poem that seem to be troubling him. The gentle spring breeze lifts his cloak, letting flutter in the wind as his white-blond hair flows in a wild cloud around his head. Shaking his head slowly, a curiously carved whistle is pulled from a pocket and a song commonly sung in the Havens, Wind from the Western Sea, echoes softly across the lands. After a time as he draws closer to the Baranduin, the elf stops playing and starts to speak seemingly to the wolf shaped whistle.</i> <BR><BR>We have spent too much time at Home, havent we? I just barely caught the rumors and had to see if they were true. But where is it? I know its to be somewhere around here...<BR><BR><BR><BR><i>As it turns, the question is answered in short order as a loud caterwauling echoes from the Baranduin to the Mithaithel, settign the soft natural music of the wind upon its posterior. More cats are added to the strangled choir as words and Orion begins to distinguish voices, slowly become more distinct, a deep baritone, a higher voice belonging to a Hobbit, a few female voices and words begin to be recognizable.</i><BR><BR>"97 bottles of beer on the wall...<BR><BR>Take one down and...<BR><BR>91 bottles....<BR><BR>Pass it around..."<BR><BR>Vala preserve us, the Bards are singing... SOBER. It seems the bar in the 'Pot isnt stocked yet. At least I can find where they are like this...<BR><BR><i>Leaving the path of the Greenway, Orion sets off across the grassy fields along the river as he skirts the woods for a few hours, the voices becoming recognizable as the elf approached. He sees a cluster of folk, including the Guildmaster Erinhue, his wife Aerin, Erinhue's co-conspirator Hobbituk, Scribbles, Anorast and several others sitting on mossy rocks around a largish shack with half a dozen small rooms. Whispering softly to himself and the whistle in his hands, Orion shakes his head as he approaches.</i><BR><BR>THAT is the vaunted Splintered Chamberpot? Even if all the bards were hobbit children, we couldnt fit ... in .. there <i>His voice trails off as the shack gives a tremble and seems to expand a little and the rough wooden walls become more refined.</i> Ahhhh I begin to understand now.<BR><BR><i>Lifting the whistle Lindraugedhel to his lips, the elf blows a welcoming call that is answered by a few chords ringing from the harp. A musical conversation follows as the elf walks closer, harp and whistle speaking back and forth.</i><BR><BR>"Is THIS the Splintered Chamberpot?" <i>A patient trill responds</i><BR>"I see... this is what the 'Pot is RIGHT NOW. In time it will be bigger. So what happened to the old 'Pot? I heard that was .... consumed." <i>A sharp accusing set of chords jangles and is cut off by an equally sharp whistle blast, the wolfhoundish whistle call reproaching Agarack.</i><BR>"I NEVER said it was your fault. Dont put words in my mouth" <i>The harp trills a welcome to Orion's whistle which responds in kind from a soft sound like the wind in the trees.</i><BR><BR>88 bottles of beer on the wall,<BR>88 bottles of beet,<BR>Take one down and pass it around,<BR>87 bottles of beer on the wall...<BR><BR><i>Laughing as he joins the loud bard voices, Orion finds a couple bits of parchment to look over. Glancing at them, he signs a small series of runes that are his name before collecting of place to relax, a soft grassy turf, and plops down, reclinging peacefully against the oak tree.</i> That petition, we dont have the needed licenses do we?<BR><BR>"no"<BR>"no."<BR>Figures. I should think we wont be closed. But then its been closed twice before.<BR>
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Postby Eyriel » Sat Mar 29, 2003 11:55 pm

Eyriel stepped away from the shady road into a patch of sunshine along the Withywindle. <BR><BR>“Now let’s see,” she murmured to herself, pulling a creased, hand-drawn map out of her cloak pocket. “The ‘Pot ought to be somewhere around here, if this map’s any good. I thought I’d have gotten there by now…” <BR><BR>The Festival wasn’t scheduled to start for a couple days, but Eyriel figured it was better to arrive early rather than late, as she usually had in the past. If only she could find the place…<BR><BR>With a sigh, Eyriel shoved the map back in her pocket and gazed down the clear Withywindle, which curved around a bend a few yards along to merge with the swiftly-flowing Brandywine. <BR><BR>“’Where the Withywindle meets the Brandywine,’ Erinhue said. Well, <i>I’m</i> here, but where is <i>it?</i>” Suddenly her ear caught a familiar and catchy tune floating down the river towards her:<BR><BR>"87 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>87 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 86 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR>Hurrying down the road and pushing her way through the thick flora lining the path, the young half-elf found herself in a wide field, in the middle of a scene which reminded her of some sort of peaceful protest. A group of Bards, many she recognized and some she did not, were gathered in the field, belting out the familiar tune. Nearby stood a small building of seemingly little significance. Eyriel stared at it. <i>This</i> was the Splintered Chamberpot? The great hall of reknown? It looked more like an overgrown outhouse than anything.<BR><BR>As she continued to watch, however, she realized that the building almost seemed to be vibrating with the rhythm of the old bar-song. It seemed to be stretching – or even growing. Then, to Eyriel’s fascination, there was a low groaning noise and with a sudden pop a red brick chimney bloomed out of the roof of the ‘Pot. It started smoking as if a fire had been burning below all day, and she could almost smell an apple pie baking in the oven. <BR><BR>“Fascinating…” she murmured to herself. Looking around, she spotted Hobbi sitting on a rock near her. <BR><BR>“So, this is the Splintered Chamberpot, is it?” she inquired. The hobbit responded, “Yes – er, well, it will be eventually. That is, assuming the Powers That Be allow us to keep growing it. We have a petition.” Cheerfully he motioned over to a beautifully scripted document resting on a nearby boulder. <BR><BR>“Well then,” Eyriel said. “If this is what’s required for a place to hold the festivities, then count me in.” She signed the petition in her neat flowing hand, then settled down in the long grass to join in the singing. <BR><BR>"86 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>86 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 85 bottles of beer on the wall...."
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Postby EntwifeLost » Sun Mar 30, 2003 9:25 pm

<i> It had been long moons ago - since the Entwife had crossed the deserted Enedwaith and went north over the Greyflood. Tree Elves told her of the reawakening of a special place...And so she snuck over the Misty's and made a few days trek to the Old Forest and over to Withywindle.<BR><BR>After many miles of tracking and intent tree whispering...She came upon a hill and looking down, saw a group of peoples, enthralled with music, or was it chanting?? It was indeed the spot she knew of years ago...The smell of burning was very pungent to an Entwife, and she knew there had been a fire once..but.......She could not smell it again - it was an ugly smell to her.<BR><BR>Scratching her way thru the dense woods she appeared thru a bush, starling some, but soon intriguing those who had not seen the Entwife in such areas...<BR><BR>"I sing along with Bards and is this indeed the Pot?" she clammered as she greeted the listeners of Harp strings...With her hands full of small bags made of sack material, she hoomed and was careful to step slowly as she walked over the green patch of grass.<BR><BR>"And Yes the Pot!! I will sign the petition of course!" She answered to the the Elf who told her about Apple Pie and fresh baked things! <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> Although most did not hear as they kept on with a song of bottles and draught...The Entwife could not get the smell of apples out her mind....But she stopped her cravings and listend to the group among her...<BR><BR>Her finger for writing scribbled on the parchment petition as she smiled at the relentless singers and felt the hope they shared in seeing the Chamberpot shined up and re-opened...<BR><BR>She set the sack bags in front of a set of trees...and walked slowly to erinhue and the group, and greeted the Hobbits and Elves who were already enchanted by the plyings of Agarak string solos! <BR><BR>"Seeds and Gems for you! I thought youd find use for some of these magical things from the Wildwoods..They may make re-opening easier! I know only that they are meant for you and the Pot!" HOOM <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-rolleyes.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-rolleyes.gif"border=0><BR><BR>Of course she would sing along...Her speaking was limited by such short songs, unknown to Onodrim.....She laughed as she whispered quite clumsily to herself, about how it could be Entdraught too..and thought of a rhyme in her head about Entdraught...But her mind was wandering again and she did not want to break the powerful cycle of glass bottles....so she Hoomed.....<BR><BR>" 85 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>85 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 84 bottles of beer on the wall...." </i><BR><BR><BR><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-rolleyes.gif"border=0> Ent-waves and Entdraught Bowl Tips to Re-opening the Pot!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0><BR><BR>
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Postby PatriotBlade » Sun Mar 30, 2003 11:44 pm

" 85 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>85 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 84 bottles of beer on the wall...." <BR><BR><i>Heather hated this song but she joined in any way as she ambled into the clearing. She knew why everyone was here and had come to lend her support and voice. Her high, sweet soprano voice cracked from dehydration and lack of use. It had been a while since she had actually sung. She ploped down on the gras next to the group, quietly signing the petition when it was passed:<BR>Heather Of The Wilds<BR>Then joined in for another chorus...</i><BR><BR>" 84 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>84 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 83 bottles of beer on the wall...." <BR>
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Postby Alandriel » Mon Mar 31, 2003 12:27 am

It was a lovely spring day. Alandriel had taken to wandering around her <a target=new href="http://uk.geocities.com/alandriel_elessendil/TheOldForest.htm ">home of old</a>, enjoying the balmy air, the sunshine filtering gently through the huge trees casting a soft glow. She had been strolling for hours more or less following the line of the High Hay, her mind clear and free, taking in the sounds and sights of her beloved forest.<BR><BR>As she moved quietly along, a snatch of sound so very different from the gentle noises of the wood made her stop and listen more intently. Yes, it was unmistakeable…. singing….the sound of many voices joined in a cheery chorus. How very odd! Her curiosity however was pricked. Never before had she heard such noises in the Old Forest, or anywhere near it. She decided to investigate and turned her way towards the music.<BR>Not long after, she reached the thinning brush, the words of the tune now clearly distinguishable:<BR><BR>" 84 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>84 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 83 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR><BR>What gives……? She pushed her slender frame through the shrubs and stood gasping in amazement at the sight before her.<BR>On the clearing studded with the first spring flowers stood a wooden shack with wondrous looking smaller structures attached to it. <BR>Then she saw a group of people sprawled in the fresh grass in front of the ‘house’ joined in merry song. This was definitely interesting, highly unusual and worth checking out properly.<BR><BR>Alandriel meandered her way closer until she could make out the faces of those present and a smile crept across her face until eventually she burst out in laughter:<BR><BR>‘Oh my, now this is a surprise to see you here’, nodding her greetings at the many familiar faces as she makes her round. <BR><BR>‘Hello Erinhue, Hobbi, - how nice you have chosen just this location. If I can be of any assistance what so ever, just let me know; Anorast, - feeling much better I see <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>,, Lady Elenath (oh my, she’s here too <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>) Aerin (looking kindly upon the famous healer hoping she would get a chance to talk to her sometime), Alfirin (eying her a bit wearily as she had heard a lot about the Dowager Duchess but not yet met her), Scribbles (giving her a warm smile and a look of curiosity), Wiste (also hope to get to know you better), Telta – yet another place we meet again, Syde – our paths have not yet crossed but I am pleased to meet you; Parm! – I am glad our paths cross one more; Orion – pleased to meet you; Eyriel – hello; EntwifeLost – woa! Are my eyes seeing right?; - Heather – Nice to make your acquaintance. <BR><BR>‘I’ve heard rumours of the Bards looking for a new place…. But I would have never in my wildest dreams have imagined, it would be so close to …… well, I guess you could say ‘my home’…. She chuckled happily.<BR><BR>‘So I hear you need some re-enforcements to make your ‘petition’ heard? I am not very versed in singing but I believe the song you’ve chosen I do know’. Settling herself comfortably Alandriel joins into the song:<BR><BR>" 83 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>83 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 82 bottles of beer on the wall...."<BR>
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Postby crystal_seed » Mon Mar 31, 2003 3:47 pm

<i>Carefully and quietly Crys walked through the undergrowth of the old forest. She had been enjoying a morning stroll in the cool depth of the wood, when she noticed the birds had stopped their usual chatter. Putting her keen hearing to use, she tilted her head and caught wisps of verse and melody on the breeze. Something was up! Her pace quickened until she finally reached the Withywindle. She walked along it's banks for a time until she came to a grassy clearing where lo and behold a grand gathering was taking place! BARDS! It had been too long since she had joined such a splendid group of gifted individuals. <BR><BR> She also noticed the small cottage (where those cresent moons on the window shutters and doors??<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-confused.gif"border=0> ) that appeared to be 'breathing'<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-shocked.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-shocked.gif"border=0> Indeed, something was afoot- for at the moment she reached the group a loud 'SNEEZE' sounded and window boxes suddenly appeared under every window, and in them flowers sprang up as if accelerated by Spring's love herself! <BR><BR>Crys nodded greetings to her fellow bards and heard about the difficulties. She signed her name with the rest on the beautifully scripted petition. Then she sat with the rest of the group on the Green and added her voice to the song...</i><BR><BR>" 82 bottles of beer on the wall<BR> 82 bottles of beer<BR> Drink one down<BR> And it comes back around<BR> To 81 bottles of beer on the wall...."
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Postby Dimamarthiel » Mon Mar 31, 2003 6:55 pm

<i>Dima walked quietly enjoying the cool air. She had been away for a long time and was very tired. As she stopped to rest for awhile, she became suddenly aware of a certain strange sensation in the air. Wearily she followed the vibrations that surrounded her, not knowing where they would lead. As she came around a bend in the road she realized that what she had felt were muffled voices lifted in song. She stopped and listened wondering who would be here in the forest. As she came into a clearing she was delighted to see that it was her fellow bards. They were sitting around a strange looking building with what looked like rooms coming out from the sides. Could this be the famous Splintered Chamberpot she had heard so much about? It didn't look like much, even though she could feel an air of magic around the place. With joy she saw that her dear guild master, Erinhue and his lady Aerin, and Agarak, his dragonharp were also here. What a site to behold everyone was!</i><BR><BR><i>Dima walked over to her fellow bards and exchanged greetings all around. She also added her name to the beautiful petition that Alfirin had penned. Then she joined her voice to the other bards as they sang...</i> <BR><BR>" 81 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>81 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around<BR>To 80 bottles of beer on the wall...."
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Postby erinhue » Tue Apr 01, 2003 10:13 am

64 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>64 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around to<BR>63 bottles of beer on the wall<BR><BR>In the grassy meadow on the banks of the Wythywindel where it meets the Bradywine, the ever growing company of bards sang the charm of the tavern song to the little cottage set in the midst of a miniature garden. The building was much more than the narrow structure it had been hours earlier.<BR><BR>The gathering had taken on a festive atmosphere as the noon hour approached. A few more guildmembers arrived in a wagon loaded with foodstuffs and provisions and large oaken cask of The Shire’ best beer.<BR><BR>“Now we really have a party going” Erinhue cried and the singing continued, once everyone had gotten a “taste.”<BR><BR>63 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>63 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down <BR>And it comes back around to<BR>62 bottles of beer on the wall.<BR><BR>The cottage shuddered and expanded as if taking a deep breath. After a few of these stretches, a great groaning noise came from it as the structure doubled its height. Something that resembled a large Portobello mushroom popped up from the ground in the spot where the stables would eventually stand. Pebbles surfaced in the flowering grass to outline what would become the courtyard and stone walkway.<BR><BR>The sun shone brightly now and the roof began to take on the color and texture of a thick laid thatching, it’s flat surface rising like muffins baking in the oven to achieve a sloping peak. The cresent moon windows enlarged as the little cottage continued to grow under the spell of the bards’ singing.<BR><BR>46 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>46 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down <BR>And it comes back around to<BR>45 bottles of beer on the wall<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
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Postby Jaeniver » Tue Apr 01, 2003 11:02 am

(OOC-i've got a very early day tomorrow, will the festival continue tomorrow or is it just a one day 'gathering' because then i might have got a problem with posting my poem and interacting with friends)<BR><BR><i>Jae arrived on foot at the Pot. She looked amazed at all the people that were there, they unloaded provisions, liquor and more food. She smiled as the sun warmed the air giving it a special kind of ambiance to this special day. She heard the song and could help laughing. Is this the spell that’s making the cottage grow?<BR>She saw Erinhue standing infront of the Pot looking proud as if he was watching a son grow.</i><BR>“erinhue” <i>she called out.he turned around, smiled and lifted his hand to say hello</i><BR>“hello Jae, nice to see you’ve come, you nervous?” <i>he said with a wink</i><BR>“I had forgotten about it till you brought it up! “ <i>she smiled nervously</i> “don’t you worry you’ll do fine, just grab a seat, grab a drink and have fun, enjoy yourself that’s all that matters”<BR><i>Jae nodded as he said</i>”excuse me dear but I must keep an eye on the growing of the Pot, it sometimes has a will of its own you know.”<BR><i>And he turned around again. She waved at the already arrived members and decided to grab a chair that she saw lying on the grass and enjoy a fine day listening to the Bards singing:</i><BR><BR>45 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>45 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down <BR>And it comes back around to<BR>44 bottles of beer on the wall
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Postby Belethrant » Tue Apr 01, 2003 12:04 pm

The little piebald mare halted dead in her tracks when she smelled the bear, and the rider was nearly sent flying over the horse’s ears. <BR><BR>Bringing his jet-black destrier, Luinsul, to a softer halt alongside his squire, Belethrant laughed, a ringing peal of unaffected pleasure. “It would seem, Cirinor, that Eärglin has little taste for mummery!”<BR><BR>As the travelling band of jongleurs, jugglers and entertainers merged from the Greenway onto the great East road, Belethrant had to reach out and take a firm hold of Eärglin’s reins, lest Cirinor lose control of his mount. The mare was young and newly broken and, whilst accustomed to everyday road traffic, was unprepared for the varied sights sounds and smells that came forth with the early spring blossoms. There were probably twenty of them in all, rogues down to the last one, Belethrant didn’t doubt. A tipsy jester in parti-coloured tunic sat with legs akimbo in the back of a cart, wine tumbling forth from his tankard as freely as ribald songs poured from his lips. There were fiddlers and a dwarf with a marching drum almost as big as himself, so that his arms swung high in the air with every stroke he beat on its skin. A tumbler paused to showoff his skills before the travellers, in hopes of a few silver coins, with which Belethrant obliged him. And behind all the raggedy company was dragged the equally raggedy brown dancing-bear which had so startled Cirinor’s horse. He was old and rather mangy looking and walked with air of one who would rather be anywhere but where he was, as from time to time the sour-faced man on the other end of the chain prodded his cowed charge with a stick to encourage him to shift a little faster. <BR><BR>Belethrant saw the look of rapture on Cirinor’s face; the young lad had seen little of the world and this excursion in the sweet air of the new year was a rare treat for him. <BR><BR>“Come lad, there’ll be time enough to look at them all later, if they are headed where I think they may be”, Belethrant told the boy, before urging their two horses up the banks and away from the busy highway; there was space here to ride freely and enjoy the sensation of wind whipping through their hair. “Come on, I‘ll race you!”. And with that, the Elf-lord touched his horse-flesh with his spurs and, with his long blonde hair and his cloak and his squire and the mummers lagging behind he took off East.<BR><BR>Thus it was a rather dishevelled-looking member of the Elven nobility burst into the clearing by the Withywindle with his servant following not long after, clinging to his horse’s neck for dear life! Belethrant dismounted in a twinkling and went to help his beleaguered companion who took a little convincing to untangle his fingers from the horse’s mane. Together they tethered their mounts to a friendly willow and went off to investigate the rumours. <BR><BR>Rumours whose truth had been heralded beyond the trees by a rousing chorus of voices raised in song…<BR><BR>27 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>27 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down <BR>And it comes back around to<BR>26 bottles of beer on the wall<BR><BR><BR>Belethrant bowed before his guildmaster and smiled, revealing impeccable pearly teeth, at the sight of the expanding hut, which looked for all the world as though the timber framing was trying to give birth. Indeed unless his keen eyes were deceiving him, Belethrant would have bet good money that there was a live tree growing in there and trying to get out. <BR><BR>“Will you sign the petition?” someone asked as a quill was pressed into his hands. <BR><BR>Belethrant read the names inscribed and dipped the nib in the proffered inkhorn to add his own. He hesitated a moment.<BR><BR>“You can make a mark instead”, the holder of the ink-well offered helpfully, thinking perhaps that Belethrant, like so many others, was unable to write. But rather it was what to write that troubled the Elf; last time he’d been in this company he had not chosen to reveal his name, wishing rather to hide and to take stock. But this time he relented; there was no purpose in disguises and deceit today, not if he desired to be included as a member of this fellowship. And so in a hand firm and confident he scribed the flowing tengwar script and stepped back. Belethrant turned to hand the quill to Cirinor.<BR><BR>“Oh but I’m not a bard…” the young man stuttered, his face colouring deep crimson, from the neckline of his scarlet tunic to the roots of his sandy hair.<BR><BR>“I don’t think it matters?”<BR><BR>“No, no, the more the better” said the helpful assistant, offering his ink again. <BR><BR>And so Cirinor made his mark; a simple rune denoting his initial. <BR><BR>Belethrant cast his eyes about the assembled throng, but there was no-one he recognised. Undeterred he ventured over beside a lady who evidently had Eldar blood and extended his hand to introduce himself. Cirinor, having been given neither leave to go, nor permission to stay, hovered uncertainly.<BR><BR><BR><i>(edited to deal with own stupidity in failing to adjust the numbers in the song..)</i>
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Postby LadyEdana » Tue Apr 01, 2003 1:13 pm

<i>A young elven woman rode up on her white mare. She saw the gathering and new she must be in the right place for the festival. As she dismounted someone approached her with a petition. She read and agreed to sign it. She signed her name below the last in a flowing script, then handed it back.<BR>She approached the MasterBard, bowing low. "I'm sorry for my apsence, Master, I am ready."</i><BR>
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Postby Jaeniver » Tue Apr 01, 2003 1:28 pm

<b>(OOC-don't know if that was ment for me belethrant but I'll act on it anyway, sorry if I just made a fool of myself..and after this I have to go to bed so anyone, feel free to 'use' me. I'll be back tomorrow and pick up from where I have been left)</b><BR><BR><i>Jae watched the two unknown men arrive at the festival, one of them was an Elf just like herself. the other, probably human had a nervous look in his eyes and looked a little helpless as he followed his companion over the field. As Jae saw the two men approach her she quickly looked down at her darkgreen gown and quickly touched the sparkling red jewel she wore on her forhead to make sure everything was in place, then she looked up and smiled surprised. </i> “I’m Belethrant, we don’t recognize anyone here but you seemed like one of my own kin, and we thought it would be rude of us not to introduce ourselves. This is Cirinor” <i> and he nodded to his side where the other younger man stood next to him. She also shook his hand. </i><BR>“it a pleasure to meet you both, I am Jaeniver . Are you members of the Bards guild?”<i>they both shook their heads</i> “I’m very new myself, it’s my first festival. So I figured I better first watch and see how things go before getting myself into things.”<BR>she rushed a hand through her dark hair and she smiled again as she watched the others who were sitting a bit further away on the field crack open a box of beer of some sort and started to pass it around and kept on singing the same merry song. She noticed that both the men were looking around cautious, not at ease. But she didn’t want to stick her nose into any busness but her own so she decided not to ask what the reason was for their cautiousness. <i>"please gentlemen, feel free to grab a seat and join me on this lovely day!"</i>
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Postby earendil81 » Tue Apr 01, 2003 2:38 pm

<BR>Long had it been since Eari last saw the Bards. She had been away for almost two months and she had missed the Valentine's festival, but that one she would not miss. She had ridden gently and enjoyed the trip but after a couple of days searching she still could not find the Pot. Of course she had heard that it had disappeared but patience was not her main quality and she was loosing her temper. Even the bright shining sun did not put her at ease; she would go crazy before she got to the place. Bloody hell!! She knew that part of Middle Earth, how came that she could not find the Pot!!<BR><BR>Hopefully she heard sound of cheery voices, some of which she knew others she had never heard before. She deeply sighed letting hapiness reenter her head. Yes, such a long time wihtout the Bards had been terrible. She urged her mare towards the place while the words of the song became clearer and the music louder. When she fully understood them she laughed. <BR>44 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>44 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down <BR>And it comes back around to<BR>43 bottles of beer on the wall<BR><BR>Finally she found the group and something weird. Yes weird was the only word to describe what was in front of her. It looked like a small house breathing and blowing up. <BR><BR>Not willing to disturb the merry singers she dismounted her steed and went to a place where a tall blond Elf and a boy were signing a paper. Curious she was and curious she would remain. As the boy moved away she screwed up her eyes to observe the text. Written by Alfirin, she thought as she recognized the hand of the artist who drew the invitation to Ture's and Hobbi's wedding. A petition it was to reopen the Chamberpot. So that was the explaination for the weird phenomenon of a blowing house she was witnessing. She seized a quill and signed her name. Then she joined with the merriment and started singing.<BR><BR>43 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>43 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down <BR>And it comes back around to<BR>42 bottles of beer on the wall<BR><BR>
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Postby erinhue » Tue Apr 01, 2003 5:03 pm

15 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>15 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around to<BR>14 bottles of beer on the wall<BR><BR>As the charmed tavern song drew near its end it was easy to see that its enchantment was taking full effect. The little cottage had grown taller and wider and three distinct wings could easily be made out. The mushroom had blossomed into a fully detailed miniature of a working stable with its own feed silo and equipment shed.<BR><BR>A party atmosphere already held sway in the glen and the bards’ singing grew louder and more raucous as the contents of the oaken cask dwindled to fill their mugs and glasses. A series of soft popping sounds announced the window gables newly sprouted from the sloping roof.<BR><BR>14 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>14 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down <BR>And it comes back around to<BR>13 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>
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Postby Arwen_Sol » Tue Apr 01, 2003 7:13 pm

The almost musical rippling of the Baranduin reached Arwen as soon as she saw the river’s golden-brown waters ahead in the distance. A gentle breeze danced her long black hair on the wind and she reveled in the freedom of the open road and in the knowledge that her destination was soon approaching. Sighing with contentment she slung her traveling bundle and harp-case more firmly over her shoulders. <BR><BR>Nearing the Brandywine Bridge, Arwen realized that the melody she’d heard had not been from the river after all but was coming from just beyond the shielding trees of the Old Forest. Closer approach allowed her to recognize many of the voices raised in *that* song, the exuberance bought a huge grin to her face, lighting up her Elfin features. Despite any initial misgivings she’d reached her destination at last and would soon delight in the company of her friends and guild members. <BR><BR>A sennight ago she’d been ensconced in the extensive Libraries at Rivendell when she’d remembered that the Bard’s April Fool Festival was almost at hand. Rumors leaking about had led her to believe that she would find the ever-elusive Bards wherever the Withywindle met the Brandywine. Having passed there on varied occasions she’d tried to remember if she’d ever seen a Bard’s establishment there and could recall no such thing. However, being completely fed up of research she’d gathered her things and left at once--- that is, not before collecting a few little <i>gifts</i> for her Bardly friends. <BR><BR>As she walked into the clearing *the* song had already wound down to it’s end and there appeared to only be 10 bottles remaining on the wall <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> Around her, friends and strangers lazed upon mossy boulders, humming to themselves or snored in sweet repose upon the soft grass. Approaching what appeared the be *central-command* she was pleased to see Master Hue with the lovely Lady Aerin by his side along with Hobbi, SilverScribe, Parm and others gathered around. <BR><BR>Intent of reuniting with the group she dazedly looked down at the beautifully eloquent petition sheet that was pressed into her lax hands by an esteemed looking gentle woman. Taking the quill, Arwen wrote her name in the long flowing script of her people and beside it drew the mark of her house. Handing it back with a smile she turned and saw with surprise that Master Hue had snuck up behind her. Slapping her fondly on the back, his strong voice rang in her ears,<BR><BR>"Arwen darlin’, didn’t think you were gonna make it!"
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Postby erinhue » Tue Apr 01, 2003 7:55 pm

“Arwen, darlin’ I didn’t think you were gonna make it.”<BR><BR>Erinhue was delighted at Arwen Sol’s arrival. He had last heard the lovely elf was in Rivendel studying in the famous Library. Waving an arm to cover the entire glen he asked “ What do you think?’<BR><BR>Turning to look about Arwen saw what was fast becoming The Splintered Chamberpot, the guild’s song house. It was nearly complete but still barely larger than a small country cottage. Erinhue would have had to bend near double to enter it now that the second story had developed itself. Flowering vines sprouted and began to wind themselves up the trellises set along one side of the main building and the miniature hedges were taking on sharper definition. The stables were complete with beds of sweet smelling hay and airy stalls that could comfort a herd of tiny horses.<BR><BR>“Um it looks very nice.” Arwen replied with a dubious cast to her fair elfin eyes. “but ‘Hue, don’t you think it’s a bit small?”<BR><BR>“Ah well it is only just budding ya know.” Erinhue replied proudly. “All she needs is a little more of the charm. We’ve nearly finished it as is.”<BR><BR>With that he nodded at Hobbituk who again took up the beat on his skin drum. Erinhue set his fingers to Agarak’s strings and began to play and sing. The entire company joined in singing the finishing charm to compete the transformation.<BR><BR>7 bottles of beer on the wall<BR>7 bottles of beer<BR>Drink one down<BR>And it comes back around to<BR>6 bottles of beer on the wall<BR><BR><BR>
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Postby Little_Bear » Tue Apr 01, 2003 8:11 pm

<i>Wandering into the area that was quickly being filled with people, as well as an odd, growing structure, the young girl looked around to see who *seemed* to be in charge.<BR><BR>Hearing the song being sung by [almost] all, she wonders just how sober the leader would be even if she did manage to find him.<BR><BR>And so, with a rather lost look on her face, the young girl started to rather aimlessly wander about...
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