Peredhil

Hug. Good parenting sometimes means confrontations. I think you were very graceous and tactfully in staying focused on the point in time and future. Excuses don't matter and "what should've been"s don't fix the problems. Good for you I wish more people could be problem focused and then move on, instead of excuse and justification focused (before they can even deal with the problem). Ya done good! On a side note, I've found with my distracted view of reality and sometimes slow thought process, I have to miss a number of t-shirt slogans. Something about a forty-plus year old man staring at women's t-shirt slogans isn't received well and therefore isn't Polite. Peredhil

Oooohhhhh. Very distracted, Peredhil gets a feel for the whip by popping gnats out of the night air. Once he's remembered old skills and has introduced himself properly to the whip, he practices with more popping - those gnats fly on, but will never reproduce. Once the happy glow of a thoughtful gift begins to fade, he starts to wonder and he murmurs... A Rosemary gift of a Rydia whip while Minta plays below. A toothy Tzigg of a troll while Tzimfemme's in chocolate. A wise old Man dances with stars in his eyes and love in his heart While Rydia twirls and smiles. The patterns flow. ~~~ Prince considers biting people just because he's bored without violence... ~~~ Prince has now reached the stage and grabbing up the white guitar which happens to be there, plugs in the jack. An ear-piercing squeal modulates into a driving riff and then into rhythm guitar as the purple one sings I'm not a woman! I'm not a man! I am something that you'll never understand! and the impromtu Prince concert is on - with several types of Princesses drawn helplessly toward the stage and nearly all the Princes wondering what strange power this little strutting guy in makeup holds over Princesses.

My Schedule is erratic, so interview through Yahoo! If you want the dirt on Melba, this is what you do. Ask Wyvern yes, but Gwaihir as well and definitely me. And well-rounded Almost-Secretarial picture you'll see. -Peredhil

Hugs Imposter hello and welcome, and waves to Doctor Evil, inquiring after Mrs. Evil and the Evilling youngsters.

Hmmm.... I've found perhaps 5% of women who aren't beautiful... but then, perhaps I have different criteria? The most beautiful woman I've ever met wasn't pretty at all - but within 5 minutes of knowing her, it's hard to recall anyone who still noticed that. Two-cents Peredhil.

Oh! Oh! Me! 1) Read the descriptions and pick the person into whose personae you'd most like to grow: then adapt it to you and grow into it. Willl that do it?

And not to forget... Mr. Bunny was made a Bard of Terra for his satirical poem on the entire feuding Guild system's political squabbles. In such lines as and He single-pawedly paved the path for peace in the Ager Guild server! Peredhil Lifetime member of the Mr. Bunny Fanclub "Where ... is the definitive answer on life."

The next thing MTYFoolish saw after "THREE" were small Rocky Mountain Blue Birds circling. Or could they be small ducks, in garish Mosh Pit lighting? Sounds began phasing in somewhat annoyingly. "Oh my GAHD Becky, did you just use Tai BO?! That is SO nineteenHUNDREDS." Becky hung her honey-blond hair in retro-non-chic-shame. "I mean, I'm in Chin Na, and if I have to, like, do a Buffy number, I'd at least use Wu Shu. I'm mean, Chinese is IN." A chorus of other voices, like, joined in affirmation. "Yahhhhh." Becky's voice cut through the chorus with hostility - she wasn't a fellow valley princess for nothing. "Veronica DAHRLING, that GEEK was about to KISS you!" "EEEEEWWWWWWW." A showy California hug, which involved a precise hint of sexuality with the sterile field technique of nursing, cheek touching, and ensuring nails didn't chip ensued. "Good thing he didn't chip a nail," Becky continued, "I'd have had to do a Jaki Chan on him." "Or a Buffy!" Much giggling and jiggling ensued at this salle. "Is that, like, a MOSH pit?!" Asked a girl who's "Princess" t-top had probably been purchased in the girl's section of the store. Despite any type of support other than internal silicon gels, she remained within her scrap of sequined material. The smooth ripplings of her stomach framing her pierced navel attested to faithful and regular Lhu He Be Fa with her Sifu. Workouts were part of the price a dutiful Princess paid now days. "PARTY TILL YOU PUKE!" ~~~ Prince wasn't quite sure where he was, but the throbbing music had a wicked back beat and he wasn't the center of attention. Borrowing a mirror from a Princess he checked his heavy eye make-up, and then strutted toward the stage to find his roadies. The purple one was one Prince who wasn't used to being ignored. ~~~~~ Sir Elton appeared in a group of fellow Princesses and looked around curiously as he adjusted his glasses. Look at all the material around here! Some of these fellows were georgious! And all the blondes! He had a thing for song writing about dead blondes... ~~~~~~ Prince wasn't sure were he was... And his mistress wasn't here either. But in her absence, he could smell a plethora of Princesses to guard. Well trained, the Rottweiler with the spiked collar began guarding the nearest Princess. ~~~~~~~ The Princesses accepted another round of drinks without noticing the sheep-eyed loving looks the waiter tried to convey. Being worshipped was a price of royaltry. "So, he wanted me to throw down my HAIR!" The hair in question was piled high on her head, held with jeweled pins, and still cascaded in soft waves to pool around her feet. With unerring taste and grace, it supplimented the green chiffon of her dress. "I took one look at this warrior, with all his bristly red hair and told him to braid a ladder from his chest hair. I mean, this guy must've weight 300 kilos without armor!" Nods of sympathy from her listeners. She paused to sip her drink, with elegance and fairy-gifted grace, and another took up the lament. "I know just what you mean. Look at them. Half these Princes are most interested in each other than in the gentler sex." ~~~~~~~~ A group of Princes stood and sipped their drinks as they made catty remarks, eyeing other men and women with distain, impartially. "Look at THAT one. Ivory tower mentality and so OBVIOUS. He could sure use a queer eye makeover!"

Up among the telescopes, in the relative quiet and dim, Peredhil gazes on stars as if talking a slow conversation with old friends. His boys and Bodyguards have been sent off to enjoy the party, and he's gone so far as to loosen the black bow-tie he wears. It is with a reluctant sight that he returns to himself, brought back by the waves of excruciating pain. Quickly determining it isn't another false alarm (he remembers the power he spent when it turned out to be Melba doing Yiddish Karioke), he begins activating preset Healing and Resurrection spells. With those working their magic, he attunes himself to Mage Marks he's left throughout the building... It is, of course, the Dance Floor. With a resigned shrug, he continues his self-appointed duty of keeping the party attendents alive as long as he can. Guido leans over to Nuncio and begins whispering furiosly. They'd been on the balcony, out of harm's way (inevitable as though it might be at a Wyvern Party), and within easy call of Peredhil. They'd watched with applause at Orlan's entrance, and made bets on how many undead would be able to escape Minta's control. (Nuncio always won that wager as Guido was, at heart, a Romantic who always wagered too high on the hopes that some would shamble off into the sunset, finding brains in local countryside under moonlit skies.) So it was that on observing Elladan corner Elrohir, talking at high speed with his most dazzling smile and wide excited hand gestures, while looking furtively around for Peredhil, they knew 'Dan had had another Great Idea for a Practical Joke (GIfaPJ). Moving slowly and casually as not to attract attention, the ambled to the stair heading up to the roof. Guido stopped and pointed to the shattered ceiling, already sealing behind Orlan's Entrance, but Nuncio sharply tugged his arm down. "Don't point," he hissed, "it's prolly Gyrfalcon's doing. He often cleans up after the other's disasters." "Oh like the time Gloria Rune and Minta decided to do Melba's laundry and -" "YES! GIfaP, remember?!" They reached the stairs and began climbing, taking them three at a time. "So all I need is a little shaping and power from you Bro', it will be hilarious! Non-destructive, no kills, save the furry critters, all those things you like, right?" Elrohir raised a slender calloused finger and began to interject as 'Dan took another breath, but 'Dan sped on. "Think of the LOOK on people's faces. Consider the little people. You've been the Paladin of a thousand Gods on a thousand worlds in dozens of universes, don't you think you owe it to all THEM?" At Elrohir's wounded look, he caveated, "Okay, sorry about the 'bitch-whore of the Gods' comments, can't a guy have an off millenia or two? You gonna hold the past against me?" Elrohir nodded an emphatic yes. "Where's the tolerance the opportunity for growth the Politeness Aragorn always liked you more I'll tell Dad you had the hots for Galadriel remember the money you owe me I'll cancel the debt I'll get you those baseball cards Wyvern made of Showering Babes of the Pen and LEAVE THEM ON YOUR BED IN PLAIN SIGHT you should becau-" "OKAY." their sudden shouts although piecing and laden with emotion (or the carefully crafted appearance of emotion on one side; Elladan was rather pleased he hadn't had to try a tear ploy - he'd have had to make Elrohir pay for quite a while to wipe that out, and he did love his brother, if he finally had the definition of love right, while he made sure to reward Elrohir with silence and a look of surprise at the sudden shout even as he mentally patted himself for cornering him next to the Mosh Pit when he'd seen Xaious heading in that direction as he did a perimeter check of his back and- "I'll do it. I've thought it through, and compared to Wyvern's plans, little can go wrong with this one." Elrohir fixed his brother with a suddenly sharp and fully attentive stare, and Elladan felt himself go still and wary. He hated it when Elrohir FOCUSED on him like that, it was a naked feeling. "This wasn't in any way or form suggested or prompted by Wyvern was it?!?" Wrong question and he was safe and in the clear! With absolute sincerity, he assured Elrohir that he'd come up with the idea all on his own. Stepping back into the angle of the wall, Elrohir began drawing up power with a gradual whispering flow, as he let Elladan attend to Wards. A subjectively timeless moment later, he and Elladan grasped each others wrists, completing a wholeness cleft in the womb and forming a magical circuit worthy of all their ancestry. Contained within the Wards, it went relatively unnoticed in the excitement and confusion of the Party. With a magical sigh, the Power flowed out along the floor, filling, pooling occasionally, tickling and refreshing feet bathed in its bath, a gentle innoculous healing flow easily put down to the sort of thing Peredhil's sons might do. But in its wake, frogs began writhing and growing, turning to Princes and Princesses, gaining in stature, charisma, beauty, to stay so until kissed... It was done. Elladan held his brother until his weakness passed - he always threw too much of his heart into these things, he reflected. Elrohir looked out and smiled. A lovely tribute to the Quincunx, inviting royalty to the party. Strange that such an oddly appropriate idea should come from Elladan...

cool! And bless you for pix which loaded quickly on my dial-up connection - very considerate of you! -P.

Peredhil adjusts the Calvin Klein sleeves under his Armani suit, then angles his Gargoyle sunglasses as his portion of the line finally approaches the door. Elladan has given up pointing out the pointlessness of standing in line when everyone else entering the Party is finding an excuse to skip to the front and sulks with his most edged smile. A small mobile circle of open area moves with him as he steps, waits, steps forward with the rest. Elrohir, having found out that most of the line are actors hired by Wyvern, which actors on reaching the front move to the back and start again, is trying to guess how the Sainted Bardic Elder has managed to finance an endless line. When he'd asked his Dad, he'd been quietly told that Wyvern'd hired the line to make his party appear to be Really Important. Guido and Nuncio were looking more nervous than usual in such a crowd. Not only were they watching Da Boss' back, but under their tuxedos, they normally didn't wear undies; such things chafed the furred regions terribly. They were the only ones who'd not complained about the lengthy weight in line. They'd instantly volunteered, after watching the Finnius episode, to go back to the end of the line and start through again. Finally, the moment came. They stood before Melba, who'd transformed herself into an ogress for the door duty. "Hi Melba," smiles Peredhil at the glaring bouncer. Melba blushes, and quickly changes back to her normal demure self to speak with the Polite Ancient. Her smile dimples myriad portions as it ripples through her 320 pound body, and the colored lights streaming through the door set off her frizy red-hennaed hair... uniquely. "Oy Veh! I didn't see you coming up - everyone else is skipping the line." "Would you like to check your Lists for us?" "No, that's just another ploy by that greedy-guts lizard, to convince people this is Exclusive. Actually anyone who pays the admission gets in." The Trolls, proving they're ideally suited for the job by regenerating from their latest gory death and spying a holdup in the line gleefully begin moving toward Melba and Peredhil's small group. In twin gestures, the Giant Guinea Pig's reach for their guns, only to be forestalled by Elladan smoothly moving to intercept the knuckle-cracking Trolls. Elrohir winces in sympathy as the Trolls are moved by a mixture of charismatic talk and body language intimidation back into their side chamber. Elladan doesn't suffer Rude interrupts to their Father's talks gladly. "... so there is the undies of the Wizard Hend which he wore when he answered the Ninety-Nine Questions of the albino Gecko of Gorlthe, those are for Nuncio. Here are the embroidered boxers of Bobo the Gnome, which he wore when he thrice killed the terrible troll of the Trondheim forest with his mysteriously Unnamed Short Sword. Those are for Guido. Here are Elrohir's underwear set, freshly laundered, which he was given by the Maidens of the Shield after rescuing them (whose Broads hints he primly ignored). These are the Silken Sweets, a set of edible boxers still in the box; Elladan brought them back from a trip and I'd advise you not to ask." Melba goggles at the mounting stack of underclothes piling in her arms. At least all these were clean and fresh smelling. Even the Gnomic mystery ones. "And these are mine for the gifting." Melba waits for the appellation. The line has bunched as they've listened to Peredhil's rolling tones enfusing wonder and grace into the names of the under apparel. Peredhil, however, has fallen silent and waits expectantly for Melba to move. "What? You've got no story for your own undies? A sweet Elf like you has nothing special? This I don't believe." Even as she protests, she steps aside and moves to toss the latest gifts on the pile as Peredhil and party move into the building. An soft apologetic throat clearing from behind her freezes her in mid-motion, raising all the hair on her legs, chest and arms. Turning, she sees Elladan with a sliver of a smile and eyes glittering behind sleepy eyes. Raising an imperious eyebrow in query, she waits. "Melba, Dad likes you so I thought I'd let you know. You can throw the rest, I couldn't care the least. But I'd be cranky if you didn't treat the last set of underwear Mother gave Dad before she let to visit Galadriel, before the journey on which she was taken captive in the Misty Mountains..." He paused and took a slow breath, an unaccustomed flush in his cheeks. Clearing his throat again, he resumed. "I'm afraid I'd have to Do Something, don't you see?" Melba carefully put Elrond's undies off on a side table, her heart swelling in all the sheer *romance* of the keepsake. Turning, bosom heaving and tears washing kohl trails down the many folds of her face, she holds out her jiggling arms to Elladan in matronly compassion. "YOU POOR GOSLING," bellows Melba's tear-filled voice as she moves to enfold him in a comforting hug. Elladan, with a look of horror marring his visage, flees after his father. Melba wipes the tears from her eyes, transforms back into an ogress and sobs... NEXT!

snicker in amused recognition hugs

You started a good thing, so long ago, and one which has become part of my heart. Thank you for the Pen. Happy birthday Big Guy. I hope we can get together in Real Life again sometime this year! -P

LOL. I love it.

Happy Birthday - I like all the lyrics at your blog.

Indeed, a very happy birthday!

Happy Un-Birthday to all! I think there have been too many birthdays which have gone unnoted. This was a marvelous idea. hugs all and head back to work

Belated birthday huggles.

My Online communication checklist, before I click "add reply": 1) What I mean to say. 2) What did I actually say? 3) Does anything I actually said need or *sarcasm* or some other written "nonverbal" communicator to bring (2) closer to (1)? 4) What will different people who read this "hear" when they read it? 5) What will the readers think I said? Some people can't help but put hidden meanings into simple statements, while others never look for subtle meanings behind obvious messages. 6) Do I communicate that which I wanted to communicate? If yes, click "Add Reply", else revise or don't post. After a while, it gets to be a Polite habit.

Rah! An MP3. Wish we had one of these for each of your shows - I'm one of those scheduling-conflicted of which you speak. "Scheduling Conflicted? Take the new Unemployment Laxative and release your free time!"

I wish I could write like this.

Happy Birthday! May your next year be full of the joy of life, the happines of seeing old friends, and the pleasure of making new ones. *hugs* -Peredhil

I've this "Thing" for Gut Poetry. This feels like one. *hugs* Sometimes you just hold onto doing one day, one hour, or even one breath, at a time. -P

loved what I got, willing to get more or variations of same. Consider yourself bugged. -P

Second's Orlan's comment.