The Adamanta Chubb Librarian

[Chrysophylax Dives]

@Saranna, please do not worry about my dragon tendencies. Tis true that I would eat Allis the donkey as quick as any Dwarf riding her, not to mention all of your library visitors, were I hungry. But the unfortunate fact of the matter is that my last meal (one egg), while nourishing as lembas, was possibly not quite in harmony with my digestive system. To speak plainly, I have a bad bout of food poisoning. I suffer dreadfully, if you must know. All sorts of gurgles and burbles sound continual protests from within the under-regions encircling my dragon belly button, and these gurgles keep me awake at night, as does the funny feeling in my gut. So I have absolutely no desire to eat anyone for quite a while, thank you though for the suggestion.

Possibly the initial bug was aggravated by delivery and hatching of the dragon egg - which I don't mind telling you, was quite an effort and gave me some weird and unsatisfiable food cravings.

So don't worry about food, but if there is some Dwarvish tea brewing I am always partial to that. Actually, I find it medicinal - it helps with my digestion. Some honey with the tea would be nice, too. But don't worry about English breakfasts or anything like that - the very thought of a plate of bacon and eggs makes me feel a tad queasy, if you must know.

On other matters: today we got admin link-up to the main Shire postal service, which seems to suggest that we are not about to be evicted, yet. So I say let's gather our rose buds while we may, by which I mean post while the sun shines, or something like that.

[Saranna]

@Chrysophylax Dives I am sorry to hear of your digestive indisposition - are all dragons prone to this affliction? If so, perhaps when you have recovered you could author, by amenuensis if necessary, a brief work to be included in the library section, 'Dragons: their moods, habits and history.' I think we have no works specifically about the health needs of Dragons, since many humans, elves, dwarves and Lorepersons are heavily fixated upon the terrors of Dragons; teeth, claws, and flaming breath. Some peoples will insist on stereotyping others - tsssk!

Please come to tea as soon as you like, I will ensure that the Hills prepare a brew to your liking in our largest teapot. Just say friend and enter - we will help you to coil around the shelves.

[Saranna]

PS; alternatively, should the weather be clement, feel free to coil auround the outside of the tower as best suits you.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Please come to tea as soon as you like, I will ensure that the Hills prepare a brew to your liking in our largest teapot. Just say friend and enter - we will help you to coil around the shelves.

Dear Saranna, many thanks for the invitation to tea. I will come at once. Don't worry about the tea for the moment - if it does not seem rude, I will coil around the shelves and have a nap before partaking of any beverages. But inside, definitely inside - I feel a storm coming.

Still, on second thoughts, do please put the kettle on.

[Saranna]

@Chrysophylax Dives
The kettle is already on and the Hills in a state of excitement at the thought of a real live dragon curling around the library shelves. The two very smallest Hills, however, did whisper to me anxiously to ask if I were quite sure that the dragon would not want any small Hills to eat with his tea.
I sent them off to make honeycakes - a mountain of honeycakes - in hope that these might divert your appetite if tempted by a nibble of small Hill.
Personally I look forward to your arrival, but must until then concentrate on the large number of library users who are milling about in turmoil in the main reading room, trying to decide whether to stay and gaze upon Dragonly Magnificence or run away screaming before you arrive.
Fairbairn says I must be proper mazed to be inviting dragons to tea - he's never heard the like of it in all his days.
from
Saranna

[Chrysophylax Dives]

It was cold. It was raining. But the dragon had reached Elostirion; or at least the lowest step of the (surprisingly long) exterior staircase leading to the front door. Home was but one staircase away. It was a long climb up to the door, about one third of the way up the outside of the tower. The steps were slippery and there was no railing to hold.

The dragon knew it was the end when out of the constant blackness of the night the thunder boomed. In the moments before the lightening struck, the last half year flashed before his eyes, and deep in his heart he felt remorse for Tree. The best lack all conviction, while the worst are tourists.

The God-mode was initiated, an invisible hand hurled down a bolt of lightening, and the dragon - on the final step - was zapped.

He shouted and fell and rolled off the staircase into the blackness, bumped his head on the last stone stair, and remembered nothing more.

OOC: This post dedicated to all the little god-moders.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

When the dragon opened his eyes it was still night and it was still raining and it was still cold. As he rubbed his bruised head he gave a quiet blessing to the nameless god that he was one of those dragons whose brains are not located in their skulls, but lower down. He considered the broken step. "The Librarian is not going to be happy about that!" said the dragon to himself. "And it will be me who gets the blame, as usual."

For a brief moment, the dragon entered a daydream, stepping into a fantasy world in which those who hold the lightening in their hands took responsibility for their words and offered to pay for the damage to Library property out of their own pockets. Hah! About as likely as climbing to the topmost chamber of Elostirion, looking out on the view, and seeing a Hobbit sailing out to sea.

Well, nothing for it but to step over the newly broken step and climb the staircase all over again. He really hoped the Librarian was home. Even the little Hills would be pleasant company after the last adventures. Maybe there would even be Dwarvish tea?

Maybe Dwarvish tea with honey.

Maybe eggs and bacon.

A pipe of Old Toby would be good too.

The dragon reached the top of the staircase.

Knock
Knock

@Saranna

[Saranna]

Saranna was suffering the common anxiety of all librarians - wondering how she was ever to get all the books and scrolls into order, keep the little Hills on the straight and narrow, and find out what had become of @Chrysophylax Dives However, even librarianly absorption in a task may be interrupted by a loud noise. Now there suddenly came a very loud noise indeed. At the door of the high chamber! 'Knock, Knock' was an insufficient rendering of the sound, and Saranna's elvish calm morphed suddenly into panic, as, forgetting the books and scrolls, she thought with terror of the Little Hills, tucked into their little beds several floors below. What fell beast might be seeking entry, and might have already eaten up the Little Hills? She hastened to the door, leaned close to it and in a strangled whisper asked, 'Hel-Hello? Who is there please.' Then she waited.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

@Saranna!

It's me!

Chrysophylax Dives

Let me in!

I've got something amazing to show you.

The answer to our problems.

Saranna!

It is very cold and wet out here.

I am liable to catch a cold.

A dragon with a cold is bad news.

Especially in a library.

Just imagine what a sneeze could do to the rare manuscripts room...

Saranna!

Will you please open the door?

Please.

[Saranna]

Saranna began to fumble with the bolts and security chains she had insisted on having fitted to protect the special collections at the top of the tower. 'Oh dear,' she wailed as another round of thrashing sounds began outside. 'I hope he won't fall off!'
Suddenly the bolts shifted and the chains started to behave themselves. The door moved inwards, slowly at first, then a sneeze, loud but luckily rather damp than firey, blew the door from the frame and dropped it onto Saranna.
She hit the floor and for a moment was lying looking at the heavy rectangle of wood that covered her completely. Then everything went away apart from a soft, 'Oh dear,' from Saranna.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

O dear. o dear said the dragon, lifting the door off of @Saranna and then tidying up the debris around her. He looked the Librarian over with a concerned eye, gazed up at the still threatening heavens beyond the gaping doorway, and decided to risk a little god-moding.

The dragon helped the Librarian to her feet and then on to a chair.

Then he put the kettle on.

You look like you have been in the wars, Librarian. As Saranna was still looking dazed, he prattled on. It is those little Hills, I suppose. Well, it was a kindness you taking them in, to be sure. But it was never going to be easy. More than half Barrow, with nobody to straighten out their internal corridors. Menaces, each and every one of them. Specially the youngest! She bit me the other day. And already playing with Wights and Goblins, at their age too! Who was the mother? That is the question nobody asks. Between you and me, I don't think there was one. Not exactly. Well... Well, perhaps that is a tale for another time. Look, I've got something to show you.

And the dragon produced from a magical hidden pocket, a large bag, inside of which were two things that he was eager to show the Librarian. He dropped the bag on the table with a flourish and went off to search for some Dwarvish-tea.

[Saranna]

Saranna neither moved nor spoke. She wanted no further trouble about God-moding. She eyed the bag on the table, and reflected on the Dragon's opinons of the Little Hills. She longed for the Dwarvish tea. She wondered who would repair the door. She hurt rather a lot, but determined that she would not complain, dragons being rather touchy. She sighed softly instead.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Saranna you are hard! You flit off here and there around the Shire leaving me alone in a high tower and then call me back from my holiday with your soft sigh.

Now, before anything else, I called in on the huorn farm on the way and three have agreed to make the ultimate sacrifice - sometime soon some Hobbits from the farm will come and fit a new door. Hopefully, this new door will come replete with some internal avian alarm system. I am hoping for an albatross. We shall see.

So here is a cup of Dwarvish tea. Oddly enough, there was some honey in the pot. I hope the tea is sweet enough. Have some scones with lots of butter. Also cream.

Saranna, I understand that you are hurt. But I refuse to apologize. If you are going to take the little Hills in hand then you really have to take responsibility for their antisocial behaviour. Otherwise, the Library is going to end up with someone or other filing a complaint to the great Troll in the sky. And nobody wishes that!

So it was the leg biting that really was the last straw, Saranna. That little Goblin-Hill menace, as I said. And I'm going to tell you the whole story. It was whilst you were away - when were you here? It was some while back, and I was sitting up in some corner of the library exacting revenge on the Dwarves of Moria, who have reneged on their Tea contract! I had in my claws before me the Library's undamaged copy of the Book of Mazarbul. You know the one in the green room with the hexagon symbol on the doorpost on the third floor ? My plan was to rip out or damage one page for each of the many, many grievances done to us dragons by the race of Durin, before getting to vent my fury for the recent breaking of the tea contract by throwing the whole book in the fire.

I'd hardly been at work for 15 minutes or so, and was only just developing a good technique of making partial burns and tears on individual pages, when those little Hills appeared out of nowhere and attacked me! Yes, Saranna, and they they took the book out of my hands too! And that little Goblin child bit me! Saranna, it hurt!

Now I am scared to return to the Library. And I am a dragon, Saranna. How are little Hobbits and other good folk going to feel if the Library staff are known to attack readers out of the blue and for no good reason. Just because they are miscreants is not an excuse!

In fact, my dear Librarian, I am not going to show you what is in this bag unless I receive some kind of apology from the Library for injuries that were not only physical! That Goblin-Hill traumatized me, Saranna. I am developing a fear of books!

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Ho hum, @Saranna? Have another cup of tea. Will you please stop sighing? Please?

Look, whilst you have been feeling sorry for yourself we got an unexpected solution to the security problem. Turns out I had misunderstood the huorns down on the farm. Actually they were instructing me on the extra-large plant pot and the soil inside it, which I have now sorted out so that one (not three) huorn can set down some roots in it.

The mistranslation arose because of... Well, never mind. But once I glanced at the picture above (from last year) I understood the plan at once. If you cast your eye upwards you will see that the doors of the three Elf-towers are placed inexplicably high up the towers, and no external staircase nor even ladder is in sight. Way back then we were guessing that this was some Rapunzel hair-trick of a Middle-earth variety, and for all I know we may have been correct as to the big picture. But right here and now what we have is a playground swing borrowed from Minas Tirith attached to a very long (Elvish) rope borrowed from Rivendell.

What we did is demolish all the Elvish staircase. Thing is, that one I broke with my head cannot be replaced in a matching fit, so the Library would have to pay for an entire new staircase. We agreed to just demolish the staircase and replace with a huorn-lift.

The huorns got the idea from reading A Hobbit's Guide to Stairs. Thanks to their nifty plan we can check out all visitors from up here, while they are still on the ground. If, and only if they are unarmed and unthreatening, if we like 'em, then this 'ere planted-huorn-in-a-pot lowers the swing for the visitor to sit in, and then hauls up the welcome guest.

This way no huorns have to die to replace the door. But we do have to be careful not to step out of the gaping hole that is the doorway that once contained a working door. You do not want to step out into that without wings.

What about this 'ere Library apology, then? Once we are straight between us, I can show you what is in the bag.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

@Saranna, have you fallen asleep?

While you were sighing and snoring I have composed a letter to the goblins of Mordor proposing economic co-operation on the hourn farming. They have stems and roots and such that are not found in this vicinity and could add both Diversity and Inclusion to our eggs, albeit perhaps not quite in the way usually meant by those terms. I know that as an Elf from Rivendell you are likely to feel queasy about a Mordor alliance, which is wy I composed the letter while you were dozing just now.

If you do not speak to me soon I will arrange for someone to deliver the letter to the Mordor post office. Then Elostirion will be under the thumb of The Black Star and Sand Spa (Under New Management) in Mordor. So I would very much value you your input on this but as events are moving fast cannot delay sending off this letter for very long.

What say you, Librarian?

[Saranna]

Saranna finally sat up. A small sigh escaped her as she did so, and then to her own consternation she began to weep silently. She lowered her head, hoping @Chrysophylax Dives would not notice. She felt as weak as a human but guessed that her ebullient library partner would be nonplussed by the concept of weakness.

Getting to her feet and wiping her tears away, she said;

I feel it is time, Great Dragon, that we each learn a little more about our differing - umm - world views. It becomes clearer by the day that we differ widely in our understanding of what a library should be, and what a book is for. Yet since it is I who am The Librarian, it behoves you to follow my advice in those matters. Your own ability to fly fast and far about the world is your contribution, and the making of alliances between peoples is a positive thing. HOWEVER a little reflection upon the history of Middle-earth reveals the need for circumspection in that area.

Please, NO alliances with Mordor. Some griefs and sorrows of the past cannot be overcome.

Turning to your other points, I list my responses here:

- Libraries exist for beings of all kinds and sorts; they should be allowed to freely enter and freely consult or read the books and scrolls therein. They do this to learn things, and they should treat the books and the library workers with respect.

- The Hills: they always behave well with me, because I treat them with respect. They have learnt a great deal about how to manage libraries, books and visiting beings. I shall speak SEVERELY to the one who bit you, that was reprehensible but fueled by anger at your own cavalier destruction of a very important book, which you have made unreadable by your actions.

- I hope we can continue our work together - however I must ask you to arrange some times for quiet reflection now and then. A Dragon is a magnificent, magical, strong and impulsive being, and may take some time to learn that the presence of others in the world, who have opposite qualities, is a gift rather than an annoyance. In short, dear Chrysophylax Dives, please don't break anything else, or destroy another book ever again, or be horrid to the Hills. Think before you act please.

May I have some more tea now, dear friend?

[Chrysophylax Dives]

- Libraries exist for beings of all kinds and sorts; they should be allowed to freely enter and freely consult or read the books and scrolls therein. They do this to learn things, and they should treat the books and the library workers with respect.

The dragon had a feeling he was being told off. He handed the Librarian another cup of tea, looked at the huorn-in-a-pot and the security solution now rigged up, and wondered why nobody ever thought to thank him.

"So I guess you don't wish to know what is in the bag, Librarian?"

He was not going to give in to this Elvish sighing and tears. This Elf who insisted that the Library was open to ALL who seek knowledge and yet refused to forgive the folk of Mordor their past crimes and misdemeanors. What was the problem with these Elves? Even Orcs cry!

"Librarian. We disagree profoundly on the use of books. Taking out my wrath on the Dwarves on one of their books is about as good a use of a Dwarvish book that I can think of. You appear to value books above the emotions of the heart. Be that as it may, you are the Librarian. I bow to your authority over all Library matters, both books and little Hills."

"On the alliance with Mordor, you must understand that the wider situation is most delicate. Without Goblin help I just don't see how we can keep Undertowers going. The heating bill is alone is astronomical, the little Hills are eating us out of house and home, and I've just spent all our savings on one of the two objects in the bag. We are broke, @Saranna. Bankrupt. We are compelled by economic necessity to seek aid from Mordor. What is the alternative? To go seeking the tall and heavily armed assassin who is responsible for the fact that we now have no staircase? We cannot go to the Dwarves for help. The Dwarves are feuding us with, Librarian. They have renegged on their tea-contracts!"

"But you are the Librarian. I will not send my letter to Mordor requesting a formal alliance. OK? All I will propose is that Mordor send up regular parties of goblins to the Library for educational visits. You and the little Hills can do your Library thing with these exchange students and teach them what to do with a book. On their way from Mordor to Undertowers for these educational visits, the goblins can bring with them the supplies we need and on their return they can carry back payment. So absolutely no alliance at all. This is about the Elostirion Library doing its bit to educate Inclusively and show our commitment to Diversity."

"We are going to open the Library door to the Goblins, Saranna, because it is the right thing to do. You know this in your heart, I am sure. Librarian, we must put the past behind us. You Elves are just going to have to reconcile yourself to parties of Goblin readers visiting the Library."

"Some more tea?"

[Chrysophylax Dives]

@Saranna, I do not like doing this. I am only going to say it the once. And I am not going to spell out any details - merely direct your gaze where you prefer not to look.

That cup of Dwarvish-tea that you are drinking. It is your third, yes? But I have told you that the Dwarves have reneged on their tea-obligations. We have had no delivery from the Blue Mountains for months. And yet that tea is fresh, yes? Curious, no?

Librarian, you really do not need to know the details of how, by way of trading the huorn eggs from the farm with a couple of sallow faced folk in Bree (under the noses of a posse of Rangers!), we last stocked up on tea. Nor do you wish to know how some years back a party of Hobbits and friends journeyed into the East and returned with the forbidden lore by which we have grafted birds and tree so as to harvest our crops of huorn eggs. There is no need for us to speak of such matter ever again. But please do not drink that Dwarvish-tea and lecture me on the morality of doing political deals with the Goblins of Mordor!

But my good Librarian, of course we are not really going to make a formal alliance with Mordor. All we are talking about is educational tourism. All you have to do is show the groups of Goblins around the Library and teach them about books - like you do with me. Honestly, Saranna, if you can deal with a dragon you can deal with a Goblin - well, some of them.

[Saranna]

@Chrysophylax Dives I am humbled by your response. I should never have allowed my memories of the past to inveigle me into such misuse of language and such narrowness of thought. Outreach should be my watchword! How can I blame goblins for not reading books when I have thought of them as personae non gratae in this very library? Nor should I have chosen to remain ignorant of those things that we shall now never speak of again.
I am grateful for your compromise over the educational tourism for Goblins. It will also be educational for me. I am also grateful for the arrival of the tea, and regret that I never once wondered what complexities and difficulties you may have been through in these transactions.
Possibly the vast numbers of beings who have always used the name 'Librarian' in a somewhat sneering mannner, may have had a point.

THANK YOU!

Could we find a way of negoriating for good beers and wines from the Shire, do you think?

[Aikári Salmarinian]

Saranna: You ought to me the pacifistic Utchuk, disguised uruk portraying a human. How is that? Would you be suspicious?

[Chrysophylax Dives]

OOC: Aiks, this is not your fault at all because we failed to specify rules in the OP. But this is a RP thread. Saranna is an Elf from Rivendell and the Adamanta Chubb Librarian. That is to say, she is the boss of Elostirion in the Westmarch, the tallest of the three Elf-towers, which we have turned into the plaza Library. I play a nicer, gentler, and more altruistic version of myself. We welcome visitors, unarmed and in character. But seeing as we have just demolished the stairs to the front door of the tower, it is a mystery how you have turned up. So though I may be breaking all the house rules on god-moding or what have you, I am going to turn you into a cat (not a monkey - that is a translation problem). You are welcome to reappear as this cat in future posts, or the cat can disappear into the tower and you are welcome to call as another visitor - but then you have to call up and ask for us to let down the rope (see illustration above). I do hope this is OK.

At the sound of Nukomtdeaapuitdemouw, the ship's cat from the Havens, the dragon cursed silently.

"Now the cat is out of the bag! Librarian, this is Nukomtdeaapuitdemouw, a talking cat who stowed away in one of the ships that sails from the other side. I traded her for some huorn eggs with some Elves in the Havens. Reckon she would be a good mouser - can't have those mices nibbling at the rare manuscripts. I was going to surprise you after showing you the other thing in the bag, because I know that you like cats very much indeed. Possibly, Nukomtdeaapuitdemouw will now run off up the stairs and become an invisible mouse-eating machine." The dragon put on his least inviting tone. "Or possibly she will stay for tea?"

[Aikári Salmarinian]

@ Chrys.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

@Saranna?

Well, it's like the Prancing Pony in here! That talking cat did talk, it was not just my imagination. Some say there are no talking cats in Middle-earth. But if there is a talking eagle and a thinking fox I am sure there are some talking cats. it is just that Tolkien had this weird thing about cats. Which just goes to show that nobody is perfect.

Saranna, my good Librarian. Please do not for one moment doubt the full, complete, and absolute authority that you hold within this high tower. On this thread, your word is law and lore. You are the big cheese, the top super admin of the Elf-towers, the Library-Queen of Elostirion. All who suffer your stern gaze of disaproval on their late return of a book melt into the floor in shame. Readers look up your catalogue and love you. Book stealers despair. A mere eyebrow lift of the Librarian prompts readers in the rare books room to breathe more carefully.

The problem is outside these walls. The weather has been stormy of late, to say the least. The feuds grow bitter. The Dwarves are restless. The Ranger is dangerous. Now we have a wild Elf to watch out for. But I see a way forward. Before disappearing the talking cat gave me some pointers to what outside of our world is termed the 'OP'. I plan to digest these pointers, put them into practice with what is called an 'edit' and then summon the feuders by 'mention'. They will (hopefully) assemble at the foot of the tower and from up here we will parley.

OOC: Saranna, could you please review the edited OP and let me know if you are OK with the rules. If so, I propose calling the feuders. But let's make sure we are agreed on the OP first.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The Librarian appeared to be deep in thought. The dragon, not wishing to disturb the reflections of her esteemed ferociousness, the Guardian of the Books, decided to check that the door system was working.

Teykh Shretl was in his pot. He was a grumpy Huorn who had been fused from a crab apple tree and a duck, which for some reason had given him a legalistic turn of mind and a sharp tongue. The dragon liked him but would have preferred to have him on the ground and his friend, Zaydike Gandz, up top in the pot. But the huorns did things their own way, and Zaydike Gandz was the security on the ground.

He'd been introduced to Zaydike Gandz by Tree many moons ago and was always looking for a chance to flirt with her. In stark contrast to the gnarled bark, twisted branches, and fiery duck-temper of Teykh Shretl, Zaydike Gandz was a feast for sore eyes. A fusion of silver beech and red-naped ibis, her bark was clear and smooth, her speech as early morning rain on the hillside, her eyes deep wells, black holes into which the dragon always fell when they talked. He felt a sudden desire to explore dark forests, seeking the magical fountains of the hidden huorns.

The dragon peered through the open doorway and saw Zaydike Gandz planted on the ground. She was the lower doorkeeper, charged with checking out any visitors, requesting that they hand over all weapons, and then giving Teykh Shretl the OK to lower the swing and hoist up the guests. There was not much time, but the dragon decided that on the grounds of testing that the swing-lift worked he might request Teykh Shretl to lower him to the ground so that he might engage Zaydike Gandz in conversation. It was a long time since the two had talked, and come to think of it he had not yet offered his condolences about Tree, who had been close with Zaydike Gandz. The dragon shook his head at his thoughtlessness and decided that it was his duty to offer comfort to the security-huorn on the ground.

He was already sitting in the swing and about to instruct Teykh Shretl to lower it when the Librarian at long last awoke from her deep thoughts and spoke.

[Saranna]

@Chrysophylax Dives

Saranna started out of her reverie, and looked about her in a dazed manner. Where were the Dragon, and Teykh Shretl? Ah! She espied them at the door, where the Huorn was about to lower Chrysophylax Dives to ground level.

She stood up and moved towards the door, wondering as she did so why CD seemed to spend so much time down by the place where the steps once ended. Was there perhaps an especially good view towards the East? Or had he simply become enamoured of fresh air? Or - She gave up trying to think of a reason, knowing that her penchant for list-making could extend the wondering forever.

Deftly avoiding a trip over the Talking Cat, (when did that come back?) Saranna reached the door and smiled at the two beings.'Excuse my long silence, it is so good to contemplate the multiplicty of books surrounding me. Do take care while you are out, @Chrysophylax Dives. If you are both to be absent for a while, I shall be sure to have the kettle on when you return. If, however, you are expecting any difficult visitors who may cause trouble, I advise you to return aloft at the first sign of difficulty and, as planned, parley from above.'

Saranna returned to her chair, pausing only to whisper to a small Hill, a brief whisper containing the word 'tea.' The Hill scampered away, theDragon descended, and Saranna reached for the Red Book of the Westmarch.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

When the dragon reached the ground Zaydike Gandz had vanished. She was a flighty huorn, that one, more bird than tree. Still, so long as she was around when any visitors showed up that was the main thing. In the meanwhile the plan was a quick trip to the post office, where a pile of mail awaited, and then back up the rope-swing to prepare for the parley. Maybe then he could finally get to show the Librarian what was in the bag?

[Chrysophylax Dives]

"Well, I'm back." Said the Dragon to the Librarian. "I'm just climbing the stairs to the topmost chamber to do a bit of reading." In his pocket was a letter from Mordor.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Rain was running down the window that looked out on the sea. The view on the sea always made the dragon feel depressed but he liked watching the rain drops run down the glass. A pile of correspondence was on the desk before him. Letters from Mordor.

Every line of those gummed parchment sheets cried out to the heart of the dragon. And his heart told him that the time had come to commence Plan B. Of course, one could never tell with Goblins, and for a variety of reasons. Still, the signs suggested at least a fortnight's grace before any armies with red and black banners swarmed up out of the South and laid seige to Undertowers. Before that, they might even send some educational parties up to the Library, in which case it should be possible to organize the importation of certain ingredients required to diversify the huorn-breeding program.

Meanwhile, the Ranger had been invited for the pinkie-shake. Terms had yet to be finalized, but the huorns were no longer on 24/7 watch for heavily armed booksellers from Bree. Hopefully the Librarian was not about to be assasinated any time soon.

That still left two feuders, whose attacks might come unexpectedly from anywhere. The Dragon already lived in fear of Dwarvish barbs on the music thread. But the Dwarves were now preoccupied with stamps and postal matters. As for the feathered-Elf, she appeared to have locked herself in the privie. The dragon was beginning to hope that no goblin-ninja was, after all, about to drop out of the sky and cut off his tail with a flaming sword.

And Mordor was biting! He would have to burn all these letters. Nothing overtly criminal, but the Rivendell Elf who ran the Library seemed to go a bit funny every time the name of Mordor was mentioned. Still, she would be OK once the Goblins turned up at the Library, he was sure. Just give them that stare that she gave him, and then bash them on the heads with one of those very big Dwarvish books.

The dragon sighed and returned to contemplation of the rain drops running down the window. Maybe he should have brought the bag upstairs with him? He had so wanted to tell the Librarian the extraordinary adventures he had had acquiring the Stone in the bag. But all she really cared about was her books. A Seeing Stone in her eyes was just a metaphorical library. She was right, of course. But get your hands on a metaphor and literally anything is possible! Why could they not see that? Because a metaphor is so hard to see, of course. Metaphors, like hobbit-burglars and elvish-goblins, are tricksy.

Soon he would carry the bag up all those stairs, climbing to the highest chamber of the western Elf-tower. Standing before this window, he would pull the metaphor out of the bag - behold! A great spherical stone, jet black with a heart of red fire burning within. Then they could all look upon the view. The quest would be completed. He could finally get some sleep.

Not yet. It was still too soon. Patience, precious, patience.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon had given in to temptation - down the ladder, all the way down that very long staircase, retrieve the bag, up those many, o too many stairs, up the ladder and back again. Now the Stone was on the desk before the window, but the dragon did not choose to look out to sea. Not yet.

By an effort of will, the dragon directed the Stone upwards and outwards and all the way into the Lore Post Office, where the Plaza Masterstone began to flicker and Chrys. Dives PLM answered.

The dragon saw strange images in the Stone - small pictures of Rumil, Feanor, and Pengolodh and himself dressed in brown brogues, a pink postmistress uniform, and an ceremonial post-office hat. Other images moved in and out of view, as in a dream - elves screaming in rage, goblins fighting, dwarves biting, and a cat talking. And as the images flickered they appeared in the dragon's mind as words - the words of the Lore post-mistress echoing in his own head.

Hello?

Hi, dragon! It's me - dragon!

Wtf? You cannot be me because I am me and I am here.

You are OOC me. I am in-character you.

Oh.

So now the real you can communicate with the fantasy me and the fantasy you can talk with the real me.

Why would we wish to do that?

The Stone went dark, its inner fire suddenly extinguished. Apparently the dragon's OOC and IC were not as compatible as he had believed.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon did not care about compatibility. In the brief exchange with his OOC self an image of a letter in the Lore Post Office had flashed into view. The supreme Goblin was proposing a deal!

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon climbed down ladder and stairs to find the Librarian rummaging among some dusty books. It was a strange vocation this Elf had followed, he reflected. Such reverance for an inanimate object - leaves from dead trees and the skins of dead animals, storing loads and loads of squiggly marks. He knew enough to appreciate that the possible combinations of squiggly marks was enormous, and that therefore there was no end to the writing of books. But he also appreciated that most of those combinations were meaningless nonsense, and that therefore there was no end to the reading of bad books. Most of all, the dragon understood that even if you got all the combinations just right, and wrote the perfect book - as he had almost done - still, readers would fail to read it carefully.

It all seemed a bit pointless really. Specially when you had a palantír in a bag (now carefully hidden in one of the rarer books sections of the Library that nobody, not little Hills nor even the Librarian, ever visited). Well, there was no accounting for taste.

Feeling he should make some idle chat, the dragon coughed, so as to draw the Librarian from her books, and commenced blabbering.

Hello again, Librarian. Good to see you working so hard at those books. Very interesting work it looks too. Look, those two books have different coloured covers! I am a great fan of Literature, you know. Yes, I once read a book myself. Well, not a book exactly. A letter. Yes, from a friend. Who? O, just a friend. A goblin friend? @Saranna, why would you ask that? I don't think any goblins know how to write. Well, OK some do. Yes. Alright, it was a letter from a goblin; several letters now you ask. Librarian! I have no secrets from you! It is just you get a bit funny when I mention the name of Mordor. Of course I will tell you everything that I have arranged. Don't you trust me? I thought we agreed that the educational resources of the Library should be open to all? No. Not at all! How could you even think that, Librarian? You put a knife in my heart with the very suggestion! Now I am offended. Well, I understand your point of view, but the past is the past. Agreed! Thank you. So if we could just summarize where we are at? You are OK if, in addition to inviting some goblins to Undertowers to use the Library, I invite them to bring up from Mordor also a few fell beasts, or at least parts of them? For the huorn-farm. So long as you are not absolutely opposed to the idea, I will write another letter to the Supreme Goblin.

[Saranna]

Saranna reluctantly put down her book (she had hoped to finish reading it by tea-time) and listened to the Dragonly burbling of her friend - for she thought of CD as a friend and valued his insights into areas of life in Middle-earth's many regions that, without his wide-ranging travels, she would never have heard of. Unless she happened to find the appropriate book.

The burbling slowed down and stopped. Saranna thought through the rambling speech CD had delivered, and decided that she should indeed try to be more open to the world as it now was, and not always look back.

Greetings, @Chrysophylax Dives I do not believe I have ever heard you deliver such a long speech before. I have been thinking deeply of the things we have spoken of recently, and have resolved to agree with your plans as stated, with the reservation that I expect you always to tell me the truth and never to damage any books. Or people of whatever kind. If that is satisfactory I shall now put the kettle on.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Well, Librarian, the dragon pulled up short and scratched his head, now you put it like that I do appreciate that, what with all the comings and goings, we have not checked in for a long while. In fact, I have a vague memory that the last time we did we agreed that I would sit tight in Undertowers and you alone would engage with the wider world, or at least the police who patrolled it. That did not work out very well! I suppose I am to blame for stepping out of Undertowers and attempting civil and courteous conversation with the forces of darkness who wish to destroy us all. Yet it seems - miraculously - that we have weathered the storm. The threat of demolition of Elostirion posed by the old administration has now passed. So, like the tortoise, we may once again stick our heads out of our door and breathe in the fresh air of the plaza. In short, I think our Library is now established and so safe.

With Undertowers established our plan for the renaissance of Lore is in full swing. We now have a palantir link between Elostirion and the Lore Post Office, and I have taken on the unofficial role of Lore Post-mistress. Meanwhile, Lore is actually doing pretty well with Priya's Bombadil et al. posts. And not long ago we had a whole flurry of only a little deranged chatter about angels. But we are still in the usual problem of this nuplaza, namely that Lore is not a happening place - too few decent conversations and posters.

What is new nowadays is that the rest of the plaza has killed itself off by way of the insane Elvish Ring notion that the ideal was nostalgia - a recipe for people to grow up elsewhere. So now Lore is more or less on a level with the kingdoms, because nothing much is happening anywhere.

So this is where we are. The plaza is now a good place where Lore and our Undertowers Library may flourish. And we are in the process of making good with the Goblins - who basically run this place behind the scenes - and also those who I have fallen out and am feuding with, where possible. Concretely, I'm fixing up a pinkie-shake in Elostirion under your supervision with the Ranger, while buttering up the Dwarf on other threads. All this butter is necessary because the plaza these days only consists of a handful of people and so we can only afford to be feuding with one or two at any one time.

Beyond that, I have some plans of my own for the hidden thing in my bag that because you did not ask I am now not going to tell you about.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Librarian, I'm just back from travels to a couple of post offices and wish to update you.

The big news is that the Ranger, @Arnyn, says she will be along in a few days to perform the pinkie-shake. We must tidy up and make sure everything is in order - and maybe have a talk about the huorns? I have been using the rope-swing for a few days now and it seems to work without a hitch. I will explain to you about the broigus ritual so that you can watch over our shake and ensure the pinkies rise and fall correctly with the words of the formula. It is all quite exciting.

I've also written to the Goblins proposing a cultural exchange for the sake of expanding horizons and cementing friendships and, well, you know, just making the world a better place.

And that is about all I have to report. Time for a cup of tea.

@Saranna

PS. I have been taking a look around Rohan and have begun the long and weary work of reclaiming Orthanc for Lore.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Hello Librarian?

A couple of things I wanted to check with you, if you have a moment? Firstly, this upcoming pinkie-shake. I have a memo from an earlier conversation in a different place that sets out the basics for you to peruse.

@Arnyn. We need an officiator, I suggest Rivvy. Then we do a virtual pinky shake and each post the following formula: Shoilem shoilem le'olam, broigus broigus af'pa'am. The pinkys go up and down 8 times, 4 before and 4 after the comma, with le and af getting the 3rd and 7th respectively. The meaning is: 'Peace, peace forever, feud and anger never'. In theory the formula may also be reversed, with thumbs instead of pinkys and war declared forever and peace never, but in practice this formula is never ever uttered - and for obvious reasons (one does not formally agree to get into feud, only out of one). I hope this is clear. Feel free to ask any questions. If you wish to proceed do let me know, and point me to an appropriate thread. Yours professionally, Chrys Dives.

Since that conversation it has been agreed by the two feuders that the pinkie-shake will be performed inside Elostirion, with you as the officiator (Rivvy apparently has some huorn-duties to attend to). But remember, when the once-heavily-armed stranger turns up and shouts up to us - do not god-mode her inside! We now have a huorn security system, and we must let it work as it has been set up to do. We need no god-mode, Librarian. The huorn-farm supplies all our needs.

So that is one thing, and now to the other, which concerns forbidden Lore. Let me make us both a nice cup of tea and then I'll try to explain my Lore Library question.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Here you are, Librarian. A nice cup of Dwarvish tea. The supplies have resumed of late. We may have turned a corner in our diplomatic feuding with Moria and the Blue Mountains. Let us hope, and enjoy our tea while it is hot. Sadly, no honey to sweeten it. All supplies were long ago consumed. If you really want, I have prepared a jar of distilled huorn-sap, but it has an old and musty taste, a bit like a mushroom. An acquired taste, huorn-sap.

Anyway, I blather to avoid coming to a delicate matter. Well, as you know I've been nosing around Isengard and exploring the hidden bookshelves of Orthanc. A lot of interesting Lore, Librarian. Very interesting. And, well, that is what I wanted to ask you about. What is Library policy on books and manuscripts pertaining to the 'other side', the darker side of Lore? The making of the One Ring, for example. Saruman was quite eager to discover the secret of Ring-making and a fair amount of his Library reflects this research passion. The marginal annotations are fascinating. The whole collection really needs to be archived properly by some expert catalouger - such as yourself, in fact. And seeing as all that material is just growing mouldy and providing food for mices down in the South, I had a mind to ask that heavily armed stranger with the horse and cart if she might help us transport the whole collection up to Elostirion after we perform the pinkie-shake. A sign of good faith, so to speak.

But I did want to check in with you about official policy on these kinds of, um, 'special collection'. Do we keep it a secret that we have such forbidden Lore housed in Elostirion? Do we allow public access? What if one of the Goblins on an educational tour requests one of the forbidden books?

Could you please let me know you what our official policy is please? In the meanwhile, I'll leave all the books and manuscripts on the shelves of Orthanc and consult them on site, for I am at present occyping that black Númenórean tower.

@Saranna

[Saranna]

@Chrysophylax Dives
Excellent tea, as always; thank you. Well now, just before I reveal any further Librarian secrets, would you mind my keeping the Talking Cat if it pops in again? Librarians and cats have a famous rapport. Secondly, I can't think why I never asked about what was in the bag, I suspect I may have been reading at the time the existence of the bag was mentioned; would you feel able to reconsider your decision or are the contents now secret forever?

LIBRARIAN SECRET no: 2342: Every library has some secret collections. Secret because of violent, erotic or otherwise distasteful matter, offensive to at least a few persons who have demanded the items be kept under lock and key. It is a matter of endless debate whether the existence in print of such material is in any way corrupting. Sometimes the wealthy and powerful can command such infuence that the books and scrolls may be locked up, the keys destroyed and the contents therefore unreachable.

On the other hand, sometimes librarians and persons of libertarian views may gather outside the strongholds of the powerful bearing placards in many tongues, demanding freedom of information for all. My own inclination is towards that freedom. Posit the question to yourself - had the Dark Lord been in the habit of reading materials describing behaviours as foul and disugusting as his own, would they have made His Foulness any worse? This is what we call a Knotty Question and I don't claim to have an answer for it.

I think each request needs to be judged on its own merits. This is what we call a Hard Job for a librarian! I look forward to your report on the materials within Orthanc.

[Arnyn]

It had taken her more than a few weeks to travel to Elostirion, for the second time now in what seemed like not too long a while. Even if her last visit had been strange and had ended rather abruptly, the Ranger was not opposed to second chances. For towers and creatures alike.

Her trusted hand and a half sword was not with her today, given that her entrance to the tower was conditional on the surrender of every weapon that she bore. She had come today carrying only what weapons she was willing to part with in the company of strangers.

The tower seemed to have changed, Arnyn noted as she came up to where the entrance used to be. For now, instead of an entrance door, she was faced with a Huorn. Frowning with some confusion, she gauged the Huorn thoughtfully. A slow nod came, then. "Greetings," she began. "Since I was told I would be required to lay down all weapons before entry... I assume this is where I leave them?" she inquired, starting to unbuckle the scabbard of the shortsword she had brought. Soon, the dagger on the back of her belt followed, as well as the knife strapped to her boot, and the bow and quiver from her back. She raised her hands, as if to say that was all. "Only me, now," she stated. A weapon in and by itself, technically. But one she could not lay down, as it were.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon watched from the open doorway as the heavily armed stranger surrended her weapons to the security huorn on the ground and then held up her hands to allow the huorn to give her a quick pat down. Once more, the dragon was awed by Zaydike Gandz's technique - her hoary huorn hands moved nimbly up and down the stranger's weapon-like body, intimate and yet remaining just on the legal side of god-moding. She would have made a first-class pickpocket, thought the dragon, who began to appreciate why she was the huorn on the ground - Teykh Shretl, the grumpy huorn-in-a-pot by his side, would have made some snarky legal observation and got into a fight with the visitor. Zaydike Gandz was a professional.

The security-huorn gave the OK wave to us in the doorway. Teykh Shretl was about to start lowering the swing on the Elvish rope, but the dragon stopped him. "This stranger is dangerous with or without her knives. We should parley a little first before allowing her up."

"Dangerous Ranger", shouted down the dragon to the stranger on the ground, "Why have you journeyed to our great Library Tower of Elostirion? O you who we hold indirectly responsible for breaking our staircase, are you here to claim the SECOND CHANCE that we Library folk believe in for honourable and valorous Rangers? State your business at our Tower."

[Arnyn]

Arnyn raised an eyebrow as the huorn patted her down. Well, this was new. But it seemed like she had passed inspection. A voice came from high above, causing the Ranger to look up after glancing at the huorn to make sure she would now be keeping those huorn hands to herself.

"Why?" she repeated with a slight frown. "Why, I was invited... to end a feud. A feud I had no wish of being a part of in the first place, and therefore would very much like to end," she replied, unhappy with how loudly she had to shout the words, for she was rather a more private person. "If the offer still stands, I seek a resolution."

[Chrysophylax Dives]

"Of course the offer still stands!" Shouted down the dragon. "But we must observe formalities. It is customary for Rangers to declare their kin relations to the 4th degree, or may have been once upon a time in the Third Age."

The dragon looked round hopelessly at the armchair, where the Librarian was sleeping, snoring gently. He gave Teykh Shretl a 'what-do-I-do?' sort of look. The huorn knew that formally only the Librarian could invite the visitor into Elostirion and that the dragon did not dare to wake her up. Teykh Shretl gave the dragon an evil wink and cackled to himself.

No help from the huorns. Nothing for it but to play for time until the Librarian woke up.

"So tell us, dangerous stranger who cannot be completely unarmed, are you sure you remember the broigus formula?"

[Chrysophylax Dives]

This was proving trickier than the dragon had anticipated. The dangerous stranger said she had no ironware on her body, and her word was good. But she made no secret of the fact that her body was a weapon. What is more, she belonged to that other tribe of invisibles, only the ones who really and truly hold the lightening in their hands. So the facts: the stranger wished to enter the tower, and if she entered she could assasinate Librarian and dragon with two flicks of her pinkies. The huorn was probably safe, having eerie powers of his own. But that was small comfort for the future of Elostirion.

And the Librarian was still sleeping!

What to do? The dragon could see that the tall stranger was irked and getting irkder by the moment. This long-arranged peace settlement could trigger a whole new war of the kingdoms! Nobody wanted that.

The dragon had an idea.

"Ranger. Hear me parley. I speak with the voice of the Librarian. As the present state between us is one of feud over our broken staircase - which we are not asking you to pay for out of your own pocket, mind - and as the brokeness of the staircase requires us to employ huorns with a rope, we propose that a representative of the Library in the person of me Chrysophylax Dives - is lowered down on the swing tied to a rope to just that point where, if I extend my pinkie down and you lift yours up, we can shake and recite the verse of peace."

"Once we have ended all feud between us we will naturally be happy to hoist you up to our open doorway and treat you as a most honoured and welcome guest of Elostirion, the tallest and most western of the three Elf-towers that stand on Emyn Beraid."

"What do you say, Ranger?"

@Arnyn

[Chrysophylax Dives]

@Saranna the Librarian Queen was still slumbering in her chair upstairs, and @Arnyn the Ranger was pacing up and down below, looking with each step more disgruntled with the very idea that other people were feuding with her because they believed that she was indirectly responsible for magically destroying their staircase.

I looked at Teykh Shretl for direction, and the huorn-planted-in-the-pot gave a crab-apple-like shrug and spoke with the voice of the duck.

A vampire shape with pinions vast
screeching leaped from the ground, and passed,
its dark blood dripping on the trees

Huorn-speak was often of this flavour and one had to learn how to read between the lines. But this gnomic utterance was beyond me because I was up a tower not on the ground. I batted my eyelids at the gnarled creature, and Teykh Shretl relented:

You can't hurry either of those two, so you gotta wāt. So you may as well practice the descent.

Catching now his Gollum-meaning, I attached my clawed legs around the swing, itself attached to the rope, which Teykh Shretl would let out. I peered out the doorway, down to the ground below. The Ranger was pacing while Zaydike Gandz remained rooted to the spot in professional meditation. Head first, I began to climb down.

Transition from horizontal to vertical was alarming. But the huorn held the rope firm and I knew myself secure as I felt the smooth stonework beneath my clawed hands - feeling the stone not as a stonemason or a fan of towers, but as a stone in itself. The smell of the stones intoxicated me and I heard them sing.

I was only going about half way down for this first practice run - keeping way out of pinkie-weapon-range of the Ranger. But if we ever worked through negotations, I might need to perform the pinkie-shake upside-down with decorum. Was I not a representative of the Library? I could not let the Librarian down. Also, Teykh Shretl would never let me forget if I messed this up by dropping on the Ranger's head in the middle of the shake.

The dragon felt a strange exhiliration. A new feeling? No, a rediscovery of himself. A blood-drinking ghost climbing down the vertical wall of a high tower. Descending from or to a feast? There are many rooms in these high towers, and many holes in the ground beyond.

The dragon licked his lips.

Unfortunately, at that moment he was literally yanked out of his daydreams by Teykh Shretl, who was pulling in the rope. But that could only mean one thing...

The Librarian was awake.

[Saranna]

Saranna woke suddenly, wondering how she had come to be asleep? Too much Dwarvish tea perhaps. She became aware of a lot of unusual sounds outside Elostirion. She stood up and moved towards the high door, trying to think what might be happening outside. Shouts and calls, scrabbling and scraping, the swoosh of swords unsheathing - could it be a battle? Shaking herself further awake she at last registered the presence of @Chrysophylax Dives at said door looking down and apparently in conversation with someone below. Nearing the door, she heard the strong clear voice of a Ranger - she knew it was a Ranger as she recognised the voice. She was wondering whether she could take refuge in the repairs and discard cupboard to avoid the difficulty of meeting up again with someone to whom she had been less than courteous in the past, when the Dragon appeared to fall out of the door. Saranna rushed towards the doorway but found to her relief that he was crawling, not falling, safely held by a rope held by Teykh Shretl, the Huorn in a pot. She thought it would be polite to at least wave to the Lady @Arnyn but that plan was thwarted by the the Huorn who suddenly began to haul the Dragon up again. Saranna fretted - this was to have been a gracious ceremony of reconciliation but she had missed the arrival of the most importand guest and now - well, whatever was going on with the Dragon. She hope he would be able to explain once he got back to the door.....
@Arnyn
@Chrysophylax Dives

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon reappeared in the doorway, feet first. Standing up, he explained to @Saranna.

"Librarian. You are to officiate the pinky shake between myself and the Ranger down there. That means you choose where. You need to balance risks in your decision. Even the pinky of the Ranger is dangerous, so we risk sudden death if we haul her up and she decides to feud rather than shake. On the other hand, if I go down to her we risk offending her and she might call off the pinky shake. I was thinking of the upside-down near the ground solution as a sort of happy middle-ground. But the decision of where is entirely yours."

"Once you decide on location it is up to either (a) @Arnyn to ascend or (b) me to descend, and us to then join pinkies and recite the magical huorn formula to end all feuding."

Shoilem shoilem le'olam, broigus broigus af'pa'am.

"The pinkys go up and down 8 times, 4 before and 4 after the comma, with le and af getting the 3rd and 7th respectively."

"I do hope this is clear. Please let us know your decision soon!"

[Saranna]

Saranna drew in a deep breath, then expelled it slowly. This calmed her considerably, and she stood straight and bold before the Dragon.

It is I who have before failed in both courtesy and welcome to @Arnyn The Ranger. Therefore it behoves me to come down and to welcome her in genuine regret for my foolishness and in hope for the future. Please advise me on how I should safely and becomingly travel down and avoid landing on any person or being. Also whether I should descend first or give that duty to you. I shall be glad when this important ceremony leads us to reconcilation and fellowship

@Arnyn
@Chrysophylax Dives

[Chrysophylax Dives]

"Excellent! @Saranna. You sit on the swing on the ledge and the huorn will lower you down. I'll stay up here and watch and make sure that everything is OK and, if the dangerous stranger proves as peaceful as she declares herself to be, you can wave up to me and let me know it is safe to come down."

The dragon watched as Saranna sat in the swing and Teykh Shretl lowered her down slowly to the ground, where @Arnyn was waiting next to the huorn-security, who was rustling her leaves to herself in the wind, quite oblivious to the descent of the Librarian.

[Arnyn]

It was a relief to hear the offer still stood. Otherwise she would have made the effort and taken the time to travel all this way for nothing, which would have been disappointing - possibly even frustrating. If there was anything that a Gondorian from Minas Tirith understood, however, it was abiding by certain formalities. Even though Arnyn was a great advocate of efficiency, she also understood the value in certain traditions and hierarchy. She blinked, however, at the requirement that she was to declare her kin relations to the fourth degree. That was a joke, surely? She assumed it was so, for @Chrysophylax Dives soon asked whether she remembered the broigus formula. Arnyn merely shook her head. She would need some guidance there, and was not ashamed to admit such a thing.

The way the dragon spoke made the Ranger wonder whether the dragon wanted to deliberately confuse her, or whether he was confused himself. Rather than being allowed entry to the tower, the whole reason why she had been forced to surrender her weapons - she assumed - the dragon was now planning on being lowered down from a swing... though not completely... and he would perform the pinkie shake with her while still up in the air. Then, once the feud was ended, she would be welcome to enter the tower herself.

Yet before she could reply with either agreement or disagreement, the dragon started his descent - until he was descending no more! And indeed, was moving up the tower again. Chaos.

Parting her lips in disbelief at this back and forth, Arnyn watched the proceedings with continued silence. While always keeping an eye on the huorn nearby, of course. Someone else was lowered down, then, and after a while Arnyn recognized this someone as the Elven Librarian, @Saranna. With a light frown, the Ranger waited, half expecting for the Librarian never to make it down here. She hoped otherwise, of course, but what was she to expect anymore?

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon was relieved to see the Librarian touch the ground. Now she could work her magic on the Ranger, whose thought the dragon could not read but whose facial expressions suggested that her close friends and colleagues likely called her a nickname like 'The Grumpy Ranger' or 'Grumper' or some such. Most people would have thanked him for the entertainment provided while everyone waited for the Librarian to wake up. It was not everyday that one saw a dragon appear to descend a vertical stone wall head first! And pondering matters further, the dragon began to get irate. From the moment that the Ranger had appeared at the bottom of the tower the dragon had nobly resisted the urge to drop acorns on her head (there was a jar of them in the magical-potion room). When he was a little dragon, dropping peanuts on the heads of passersby from a 4th-floor window was one of his more sublime forms of amusement - his favourite memory was when a direct hit on the top of a head prompted the innocent victim to open and put up an umbrella. And yet with great forebearance the dragon had NOT dropped anything. He was on his best behaviour! But just look at Grumpy the Grump down there. Did she look grateful? Did she look as if she was about to cry up to him 'Dragon, thank you for not dropping acorns on my head'? No. She looked as if she was the odds on favourite to win the Middle-earth 'Grumpier than Thou' annual Grump Competition. The dragon began to question the wisdom of this whole peace-ritual.

Yet it was out of his hands. The Librarian was the boss. And she was now on the ground and so there could be absolutely no question of dropping acorns - if he accidentally hit the Librarian he would never forgive himself.

[Saranna]

Saranna was relieved when her feet at last touched the ground. She stood up out of the swing, shook out her robes in hope of their appearing sufficiently elegant for such an important occasion, jumped a little as the security Huorn fixed a stare upon her, then turned to greet the visitor.

She wondered about curtseying but decided that this was all about meeting on shared ground. Taking two slow, measured steps towards the Ranger @Arnyn she then stopped, held herself as still and steady as she could, and bowed from the waist before the waiting guest.

Welcome, Lady Arnyn. I am honoured to bear witness to this ceremony which I hope will deepen relations between us and your people.

She glanced up, hoping it would not be long before the Dragon reached the point at which the ceremony could begin.........

@Chrysophylax Dives
@Arnyn