Peredhil

"haven't worn a cape in ages," thought Peredhil as he settled Gyrfalcon's apparel around himself with a natty twirl. It really came as no surprise that it didn't fit quite correctly - although a fellow Half-Elf, Gyrfalcon was much brawnier in the shoulders. Bending to heal one of the poor little trampled squirrels, he realized they were magical constructs. He stood slowly with narrowed eyes gone a dark dark grey. "I have been trampled by SUMMONED SQUIRRELS?" exasparation and something else welled within him "My birthday suit... Cheyenne's party... I ... she..." the words trailed off into what sounded like a growl as he released... intent? not a spell...more a whisper of power which flowed and echoed... a request? As it washed out from him several things happened. The squirrels all disappeared with tiny pops. In his room, Guido quit dancing, threw his Walkman in the general direction of his bed and bolted for his door. Nuncio was already in the hallway, heading for the stairs. Elladan, practicing his charcoal sketching, jerked and left a line which made the picture of Salinye marred beyond repair. Elrohir lifted his head, listened, and then settled back to read his book, assessing it as nothing more than annoyance. Through-out the Pen, other Planeswalkers twitched as the wave wafted through. Low in his room, brooding on Chaos, Death, and his next move with other peers and future subjects, the Dreamer lifted his head, and his eyes went a forest green. "Over a suit?!" A rare smile appeared on his scarred face, "huh" a cross between a laugh and sigh. High in his Tower room, a Calvin Klein suit checked the season, weather, and occasion, and dissolving into a fine mist, rapidly wafted toward the door. "Ayshela!" Came the happy cry from the door to the Cabaret. "You are so sweet to help out! How can I help you set up?" Without looking up at the Polite Ancient of Too Much Activity, the Quill-Bearer said with a smile, "Banners? A cake?"

As he sits musing, he wonders what he can do that is special for Cheyenne. She was the one who inspired his first published poem after all. Moreover, she was one who understood his very peculiar, even for a Christian, dealings with some of the Life Issues he was working through. The floor to his left was scattered with torn pages, their torn bytes and pixels mockingly accusing him of slacking. The floor to his right was scattered with sleeping pages, their exhaustion reminding him of how hard they'd all worked on cleaning the Cabaret that day. They'd paged the pages when the birthday and bardic ravs and rages were finally completed. Any time Wyvern was involved, there was always *something* to clean up. Shall I compare my love to a bumble bee? The fantastical creature who really shouldn't be? Areodynamically, It simply cannot fly Echoes the Scientist-Priest's tortured cry But bumbling about it's bumble bees I see. Equally eager and improbable my love is bound To online family never met on actual ground The healing love of the Pen I knew Was foreshadowed in meeting you When at Seekers of Babylon, you I found. Sighs and paces toward the Cabaret, trying to find words worthy to say on this, Cheyenne's 30th Birthday. Hearing squirrels, he brightens. Lewis? Simon?! Wyvern is panicked as he watches the room continue to fill with squirrels. As the door opens, he sees a wave of squirrels sweep through the sudden opening and knock Peredhil off his feet. The sounds of Armani tailored fabric being torn by hundreds of tiny squirrel claws comes clearly to his ears, courtesy of the "Destruction of Expensive Items" spell he has on them. The DoEI spell usually is the signal for him to either look out for Gyrfalcon, or start making a get-away...

If I PM you all of them, and then post on the 9th one to create an advantage - do I win? Sighs and realizes he couldn't do such a Rude thing. I haunt the Writer's Workshop, even though I haven't the right mix of talents to do critical help, so I already know these. I'll exempt myself from the contest. I'm too old to play with such neat items as the Elders have anyway.

What a worthy prequel! You have a real knack for spinning a "shaggy dog" story that is a delight to which to listen. -P

I know those lands, and this evokes the beauty of them very well. Perhaps he's personalizing the lands, and letting them represent the wrongs which in his mind you've endured. Which is a shame, because the land itself is just as beautiful as you've described. You've turned out to have a lot of inner beauty too - which is reflected in this your creation.

Peredhil ducks in, straightens his cuffs and removes a piece of lint from his trousers, then pinches the crease back to its knife edge precision. With a last check in the mirror, he strolls into the Cabaret. Looking around, he notes that Hopper Wolf's party has been cleaned up, and only residual damages remain of Wyvern's Bard announcement. Moving to the Stage, he begins setting up dual banners for Tralla and Seii. Stepping back to check, he moves Tralla's forward and center, since he hasn't seen Seii in a looong time. With a last flick of his finger, an iota of power, he starts the birthday music going. Happy Birthday to you...

It saddens me when I look at the creative, intelligent, good people who come here and post suicidal poetry. It saddens me because I lament they have reason to post it. but I'm very glad to be part of a place that a poem like this can be posted, and the person understood and not judged, where people don't run shrieking away in horror at the very idea of suicide, but instead do whatever they can to help. Hugs Dark Pain Inside You have talent, and I encourage you to keep using it, no matter what subject matter. I hope you'll find healing and joy, so that you post rainbows instead of storms. -Peredhil

"Calm your jets" (mangling of "cool your jets" and "calm yourself")

Now *that* is one fun ramble! Particularly was caught by

I suggest the incredible rewards of being a mirror - being the blue voice. Watching someone stretch and break the bonds they didn't know they were wearing. Watching someone discover they are powerful and others held them back because they feared that strength. Watching someone grow so much, they are strong enough to help others grow without emptying or taking. It's worth trying to be a blue voice, with no agendas other than the joy of a parent watching a child take its first triumphant step. All it takes is turning around, looking outward seeing clearly and speaking what you see.

You are A telephone You connect love with love without holding onto it yourself You are a brick wall a strong refuge on which others can lean, can trust you are there You are a wrapper you take the shape of the person to whom you talk because you feel their pain you are unaware of your strength.

Okies! You got the point and fielded it beautifully with the verbal grace of a gazelle. (fast answer. ) Peredhil will enter with his Bodyguards, the Giant Guinea Pigs Guido and Nuncio. Elladan and Elrohir, his sons, will be a little late, and so will enter after him. Will "tagging" the personae be okay? I don't know what the Elders, Lore Master (or Rune!) think the impact of many accounts for one person would be on the web site. Any Voices of Authority out there?

Happy birthday to one of our wolf residence. Wild and free, never successfully tamed. Twenty years old! Peredhil perished the thought of spanking, considers the hair on his suit if hugging, and settles for gifting with freshly slain rabbit. Enjoy your day!

Peredhil strokes his chin thoughtfully. Hmmm. I'll have to get permission to use the lyrics of a song he wrote from a friend for me. I'd planned on my sons entering on their own - Do I get to have music for them? My bodyguards? Perhaps this is a question more for the Quillbearer Ayshela instead. How to handle multiple Personae. I'd thought about identifying using personae tags, for example, [Nuncio] My thoughts run in circles at times like these, and my whiskers itched. I startled slightly and palmed my lead-filled sap as the music started, and then re-sleeved it before anyone seemed to notice. Although I know and like everyone here, I am a Bodyguard and paranoia is a professional standard. Glancing over at Guido to ensure he'd fanned out to cover his side, I sighed with resigned anticipation. There was no chance in any of the hells or Bad Places on any of the universes, or worlds in those universes that I'd followed the Big P through, that he wouldn't mingle. I couldn't help but remember it was Family that had killed the Don Amechi, the Faerie Godfather as Guido and I had stood there, and started us on this path. It would be a long night.[/Nuncio] [Guido]Whadda night dis would be! I love parties. And maybe da Boss would be happy for a while. I glanced over to Nun' and made sure I didn' grin cause I knew he'd get all pissy ifn I didn' play it cool. But my whiskers was twitchin' in 'ticipation. The Faerie Dragon Ring felt cool on my hand;I missed access to magic even while I was 'preciatin' da protection in a crowd like dis.[/Guido]

Crow's pickup lines?! The mind boggles... "Are you tired? You've been carrion my heart..." "Be Cawful, I'm a dangerous Crowboy: use me to pry open your love?" (it was suggested I ask my multi-personae question here - I don't want to make multiple accounts on this site)

Ouch. Makes me want to make you a safe place inside you, where you can peer out at the world with confidence. huggles

oooh. nice first post! Welcome indeed. Stick around... Ideas and feedback have no rank, feel free to indulge... -Peredhil, a creaky old Ancient who hugs a lot. Hugs!

Peredhil heads the line of well-wishers and in his joy for his friend, even lets him pick his pocket of the lint wallet he placed there just for this occasion. Stepping toward the rear, he watches the faces of the people swarming to the Stage. It is with a rather unusual predatory grin that the spies the Goons, smiling shark smiles as they slowly shuffle with the moving line, ready to drag the newest Bard away and remind him to check out and, in the memory of Shurak Whitefist, pay his dues....

Hugs I'm so glad you keep coming back with these to give me a smile. Haven't had a lot of posting time lately, but wanted to make a special effort to let you know I'm reading and you're making my day brighter.

heh, I *live* tired lately. That's why the wink. It was meant as gentle fun teasing, as between friends, or people who want to be friends. Hugs I recently got four hours of sleep - I recommend it.

*really* like this! There is a challenge to truly *look* at humans and see them as people.

Hugs

LOL! That's wonderful... Although I *was* having fun picturing Galadriel as your leather-clad singer...

Thank you Rune! I'd never have thought to match those pictures to the poem, nor had the talent to do so. You definitely have a knack for turning lemons into lemonade. looks at Kalypso and winks. Yup, that Parmenion *is* a talented fellow!

heh, clever.