Peredhil

Peredhil puts finishing touches on the Birthday Room, which is decorated as a gentle glade in a forest. Babbling brooks lend their music to the scene, as ivy gently links the trees in love. Small kittens play innocently, so sweet even cat-haters melt. Elladan, a welcome yet surprising addition to Peredhil's plans, sets about security, securing perimeters and setting wards so subtly that no one need be offended. Intelligent and aware of the irony, Elladan realizes the he has a weak spot for the shy girl. How in the world had he turned around and realized that she was inside all his barriers? Smiling slightly at himself, he continued with his task. "Youse really missed a great time on dat date Nunce." Nuncio sighed as he readjusted the streamers Guido had knocked down as his brother gestured largely. Guido had been talking in this vein since midnight. His date with Ayshela was one of the most pleasant times of the last five years to him tell him. Tuning Guido out, the portly pig double-checked his weapons and spell-items. He'd won the contest and got to be Ayshela's Bodyguard for the party. Elrohir wandered around, apparently doing little but smiling as he watched the others, observant as always. Throwing open the Party Room door, they began the Elder's celebration.

*hug-pounce-happy birthday!!!*

*hugs* This is timely. Thank you for giving words to a feeling difficult to express.

I take this poem very personally. It is elegant and describes my aching body preparing for another beautiful day. If I'd planned on living to be this old, I think I would've made safer choices when I was younger.

Both very good. Daughter - "Im" should be "I'm".

'Escargot' is French for 'fat crawling bag of phlegm'. Dave Barry

My birthday was good. Hoping my joy was shared by the others. *hugs all around*

Nods Good points you have there.

I like this post. For serious writing and development, I go to Arcane Artistry. They're really good writers, and excellent at cultivating writers. The Pen is a polite place where people meet to have fun. To be creative and play off each other. To heal and laugh and cry together. To be understood, or if not understood, accepted. A Pennite doesn't have to like all other members, or any. They just have tolerate them. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs and views. A Pennite accepts that others may disagree and allows them the same freedom to have a point of view. Maybe the Pen has gotten too serious, too rigid about being correct. One thing I do know. The Good Doctor *deserves* that Weenie he wears with Pride! Hugs Doctor Evil and runs away laughing before he's hit.

Peredhil hangs his head in shame. As usual Doc', you cut to the heart of the matter instead of focusing on the symptom. This ouch, for me, deserves a thank you to you.

Katz has my question perfectly. Why is this Trolling post here? They didn't ask for help in correcting the numerous spelling and grammar errors... -Confused Peredhil

Happy birthday!

Welcome back. When you are absent, we long for your presence - not for what you do, but for who you are. When you are present, we rejoice. *hugs*

*hugs* In my experience, it's not hard to do the right thing. What is hard is to keep from comparing to others who aren't. Personally, I'm incredibly proud of the man you've grown into. -Peredhil

Happy Birthday huggles to two great people.

The Warp Spiders scuttled away as Pennites approached. They'd grown careless in this area. One of their directives was not to be seen. Moving stealthily, they reached a Keep wall and melted into the stone. It was with grateful mandibular clicks they passed repair of cracks in the reality attached to the Keep to Pennites. Moments later they reappeared in one of the Hidden Passages and began weaving Astral Web across one of the many cracks caused by Peredhil's repair in the wake of the Dreamer's Damage. When too many Portals began to open in the already stressed Underground, they were far to far away to do anything at all. They tried. Oh they tried! Melting into the walls they found themselves unable to pass into the Guild Chambers. Crawling, probing, seeking, they realized that only those with a Quill or the potential had the power to pass into the damaged area. Were any eyes watching, they would've seen the spiders fly to safety.

Whether raging or dimpling, her life's lived full; She's as deceptive as sun-dappled waters. She's a firey hearth fit to warm a lost soul, Weathering the turbulent tides of life. When dying to life, or living to death; She's feeling feelings full to the brim. She's a feminine flaming life-giving breath, Wending her own way warily in world. Which way she'll surrender, trusting so deep; She's looking for a man who'll endure. She's always testing him before she'll leap, Witch womanly ways and wisdoms given.

(Gratz!)

Gah. I want to get with you for an interview, but we'll have to juggle things until I have time. Don't think I don't want to be part of your QQ!

Update! By participating in the 2005 Annual Role Call you can lose previous Weenie Award status and clear your name! This is a limited time offer, so post NOW!!! Elders are standing by.

~O~, You could always write a date story about trying to get the attention of various Pen women, and how you're are rejected for date after date. Sorta Charlie Chaplin-ish

I know some too. And this captures their reality well...

I'm worried about Xaious too.

Don't know if it is based on reality or not, but just as it is, that's a good song. You're really showing some lyrical strength lately. Keep it up!

portfolio. Ten minutes later, he was still rummaging through the dusty parchments. The Travel Agent's hands were overflowing with rejected material. The scaly claw had been impressed into labour, holding yet more parchments that were not the policy. "I'm sure it's in here," Mike muttered in a harried tone, "just ooone more minute and I'll have it.." At that moment, Mike leaned deeply into the portfolio, apparently (finally) scraping the bottom, when his arm jerked sharply. Once (he yelped)! Twice (he screamed)! Thrice (he was yanked into the portfolio)! The Travel Agent looked at the scaly claw, which turned its palm downward and let the multitude of papers drop. The portfolio lay thrashing on the floor for a moment, then settled into a motionless waiting. Mike, still screaming with no one to hear, fell through into ...