From alt.pub.dragons-inn Wed Aug 3 10:11:53 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7484 Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!src.dec.com!crl.dec.com!jac.zko.dec.com!leggy.zk3.dec.com!orb!not-for-mail From: penny@agora.rdrop.com (Penny Hutchison) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BDAY] [PARTY] Mingling Date: 2 Aug 1994 20:55:50 -0000 Organization: Duchy of Wabesylvan Obspauk Lines: 510 Sender: news@Orb.Nashua.NH.US Message-ID: X-Mailer: ELM [version 2.4 PL23] Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Length: 21418 'Raelf in his various appearances is property of Steve Hutchison. Luthor is property of the Dreamer. All other characters property of Penny Hutchison. (except Thorn is Guild property) This story is copyrighted (1994) by Penny Hutchison. Permission is granted for the distribution of this story on the usual alt-net channels and for archival but all other rights, including repost, are reserved to the author. ----++++----- The Party was in full swing. The air was heavy with the scents of cooked food, the aroma of exotic beverages, the laughter and chatter of guests, and the compelling beat of the gypsy band. Suddenly in the midst of this sensual cacophony, a shrill, alarmed piping caught the attention of a voluptuous blonde woman. She turned toward the noise and saw a toddler gleefully pulling on a small dragon's tail, squealling to match the little dragon's cries. Luthor rushed over and picked the child off the floor. "I'm sorry if Mista hurt your small companion. She has a stuffed dragon in her room that she plays with constantly. I'm sure she meant no harm." The woman smiled at her host. "That's all right, Luthor. My dragonets can certainly handle the mischief of a little girl. This one's just a bit spoiled, is all." The dragon flew to the woman's shoulder with a few graceful flaps of its scaled wings. After the dragonet had settled, she curtseyed gracefully to him. "I'm Leah, one of ar'Elya's friends." "Well met, Leah. That is a beautiful creature." Luthor murmured softly to the small beast, who blinked back at him, then rubbed its head on Luthor's outstretched finger and began to croon. "My people -- the Golden Elves -- have always held the dragons and their kin in the highest regard. You have honored me by bringing one into my home." Leah's smile grew mischevous. "My thanks, sir. I certainly hope that you won't mind if more than one dragon is at your party, then?" "Certainly not, my dear. As long as she doesn't eat any of my guests, she is welcome," Luthor chuckled. Mista laughed along with him, but then yawned widely. Leah's silvery laughter answered him. "No. Your buffet is quite large enough to satisfy anyone's appetite tonight." "Well, if you will excuse me, I should put Mista to bed. She has to take a nap if she is going to be awake for the toast at sunrise." Luthor laughed as the dragon ducked into Leah's hair to escape the grasping hands of Mista. "Oh...would you like to come? I would consider having a dragon there to be a sign of good fortune." Leah gently *beeped* Mista's nose with the tip of a delicate finger, causing the child to crow delightedly. "You honour me greatly, sir. If only to guarantee good fortune to you and your house, I will be there." The dragonet peeked out from beneath Leah's hair and stuck its tongue out at the giggling Mista. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- All was as it should be in the ball room, Luthor noted with approval. The temperature was neither too hot nor too cool, there were still plenty of refreshments on the sideboards and the band members were still fresh and energetic. A soft, sensual voice slithered over his shoulder. "Would you care to dance, Lord Anside?" Luthor turned to see a sultry woman in a dress that showed off every curve of her well-endowed body. Her hair was black as onyx and draped loosely over her shoulders. Luthor smiled. "Certainly, but first, I would like to know who I am about to dance with." "Lady Ale, my lord." She wrapped her arms around Luthor as the Elven band struck up a lively tune, accompanied by 'Raf playing the pan flute. The newly introduced couple joined the other dancers in the rythmic patterns swirling about the ball room. As they had whirled halfway down the room, Luthor remarked, "You are well versed in the steps, dear Lady; a sign of noble upbringing." "Not at all, really, I'm just a very quick study." Ale whispered warmly into Luthor's ear. "And I have been well-trained in other forms of dance." As if to emphasis this, she dipped, turned and swayed upright, all without faltering or interfering with the other dancers. Luthor laughed. "Sorry. You just remind me a lot of my wife. She was also an excellent dancer -- just one of the things that made her so special." At this, she looked into his eyes, her own darkly silver-grey. "You love her still," she stated matter-of-factly. "Yes. I always will. And when my travels in this world are over, we will be together again." Luthor sighed. "What a shame. Such an elegant man could make any girl happy." Ale's lips curled as she ran her ringers through Luthor's thick black hair. Luthor blushed. "Thank you dear lady. It is the company of warm friends like yourself that keeps loneliness at bay." She was about to continue the flirtation when 'Raf touched her on the shoulder. "Not you again. I don't have any porter now," she pouted. "No, I wanted you to sing," he said innocently. "Serene asked us to do something from our culture, and you're the torch singer." "Oh, very well." She reached behind his mane and drew out a long feather boa, blood red to match the color of her lips. "Pardon me," she said to Luthor. "Duty calls." She started to move away, then turned back. "I've just thought of a song that may have some meaning for you. Please accept it as thanks for your hospitality." He flashed a curious smile and bowed elaborately, "My stage is your throne, noble Lady." She glided to the platform, tossing the boa carelessly around her shoulders. Luthor watched as she prowled forward to the front of the stage. She whispered something to 'Raf, who paused in playing his pipes to talk to her. Luthor blinked and looked from the stage to where the satyrlion was standing next to him, one paw on the elf's shoulder. "Oops," 'Raf said, grinning, and disappeared. Luthor shook his head and looked back to the stage, where Ale had some kind of wand held close to her face. "This is a little number from another place and another time." As she spoke, her low, intense voice echoed, made louder by the magic of the wand. Luthor sat down at one of the many tables and waited. 'Raf used his pipes to direct the band, not joining in until they were well underway. A very un-elflike tune, Luthor mused, the sharps and flats and unfamiliar rhythm making for a poignant melody. Then Lady Ale began to sing, her voice as rich and mellow as old wine. "...Lovers in the dark, reaching for paradise..." Shadows in the corners seemed to deepen, and various couples sat closer together. "...Drawing pictures in the sand I see your face..." At one particular table, a man in a GREY cloak nestled into his partner's embrace. "...Though we'll always be apart, locked in a dream..." An image bobbed to the surface of Luthor's mind: one of him and his wife sitting together surrounded by friends and forest. The picture was so vivid that he gasped quietly. "...and the taste of you remains clinging to paradise..." Luthor's body tingled warm. He could feel Rachel's silky skin, hear her crystal voice, and smell the blue roses entwined in her midnight hair. He only nodded and smiled contently. The music faded away, leaving a profound silence behind, more meaningful than any applause. Ale descended from the stage and slowly and gracefully approached her host. Luthor took her hand in his own, "Lady Ale, you are a woman of endless mystery and surprise. It was a very powerful song." He was trembling slightly. "The pleasure was mine, my lord." She glanced over at a nearby table. "Would you excuse me? Poor Archmage Thorn has had a bad time of it lately, and I believe would be the better for some of my... personal attention." She undulated to Thorn's side, and gave the merest hint of a smile below smouldering half-lidded eyes. The archmage returned the very direct stare and made a half-bow. Luthor watched her leave. Then, gathering his composure, he headed off to greet his still-arriving guests. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- "Leaving so soon?" Luthor asked the two muscular warriors heading for the front doorway. "Nah, just going down to the beach for some V-ball. Wanna come, Luth?" A'ree grinned and spun the white ball on one finger. Luthor shook his head. "I should stay here with the guests. You might see me down there sooner or later though." "Fair 'nuf, host-dude." H'ro patted him on the shoulder with a meaty hand. The tall woman suddenly stuck out her right hand at Luthor. "Oh yeah, I keep forgetting. I'm A'ree, this is my brother H'ro. We're with the Lighthouse crew." H'ro also thrust his meaty paw forward. Luthor shook their hands. "Welcome to ShadeHaven. Let me know if you need anything." H'ro brightened up. "Yeah, how about sending some kegs of brewski down to the beach?" A'ree elbowed her brother in the stomach. "Bro, you are so rude some times!" Luthor laughed. "No my dear, it's really no trouble. Serene has an uncanny instinct for needed drinks. She had Littlefair practically tile my basement with kegs this year, so there is plenty to go around." "You're very generous, Luthor. Thank you," A'ree nodded and then looked up at her brother with a "you weren't raised in a barn" expression. H'ro flushed red and mumbled, "Yeah, cool, thanks. Let's hit the beach!" and the two powerfully-built figures sprinted out the door. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- The library was cool and dark and quiet, after the heated crowds he had to make his way through to get to this oasis. Ilya walked contentedly past the shelves and read the books' titles: "The Sisterhood's Methods Revealed", "Transportation in a Flash", "Locational Magic", "Bi-Dimensional Existence", "What Lies Between", ... "A-hem." Ilya turned, startled, to see the form of a smallish man outlined in the library's doorway. "Sorry, I hope I'm not trespassing." "No apologies necessary. Knowledge is for sharing, not hiding. When I saw you come in here, I thought there might be something wrong. It is unusual for someone to travel to a party only to spend his time with books instead of people." Luthor smiled warmly. "Books draw me. It's just my nature." Ilya shrugged. "I'm not really made to be a party person. Socializing is not easy for me." "This is a celebration; people should feel free to do as they please, not what is expected of them. By the way, I am Luthor Anside. Welcome to ShadeHaven." Luthor bowed. The bow was returned. "I'm Ilya ... from the Lighthouse." "Ah, you seem to be all over my home tonight." "Yes, I suppose I am," the young man grinned. "I have a question for you. This book, 'What Lies Between', Erik wrote it?" Luthor picked up the book. "See that sign?" He pointed to a swirling mark on the book's cover. "That's the sign of the Prime Shade of Air, Erik's sigil." Ilya took the book and held it in his arms. It glowed briefly. "He has some interesting ideas. Quite unorthodox in his philosophy, but I like that. Mind if I borrow this?" "Keep it. I can always find another laying around here." Ilya smiled, then sighed. "I'd better go, I guess. ar'Elya won't like it if I try to hide for the whole Party. Thanks for your hospitality, Luthor, you are an excellent host." Luthor blushed golden-red. "Enjoy yourself." ====== The crowd of children had grown during the afternoon. But now, Luthor noticed, they were joined by a vigorous older man dressed in blue robes. He was laughing with the children as they all tried to catch some of the tiny glowing lights that seemed to be buzzing throughout the party. The man noticed Luthor and, after saying something to the youngsters, came up to him and held out his hand. "Forgive me, Luthor, for not greeting you sooner. I'm Howard. Call me either that, or by the title of my calling, Father, whichever you prefer." He smiled and shook hands as heartily as he played. "An honor, Father." Luthor nodded toward the children, "You and your friends seem to be having a good time." "It feels good to be with children right now," the hermit sighed. "You see, I've recently lost my student, my companion. I had been alone such a long time, and it was so nice to be with someone." Howard's face brightened. "But now, I have a son, a beautiful boy. And my student is now truly one of my family." Luthor looked at the children, "A son, you say? Which one is he?" Howards eyes unfocused, as if he were looking over great distances. "Oh, he's not here." Luthor frowned slightly, "That's a pity. I hope he's not ill." "He's fine...it's just not possible. In a year or so we can meet again, but not yet. Fortunately, both of us have been well-trained in patience." The father flung his arms wide, and his smile widened into a joyful grin. "For now, there is this Party, where all are happy, or at least content. My thanks and blessing on you, Lord Anside, for creating this brief paradise here." "It is said that a person who makes children laugh is smiled upon by the gods and man alike. I suppose that is doubly true in your case." Luthor bowed respectfully. "I only wish I could hear the laugh of my own son again. He was such a happy child." "Oh, Luthor, I am so sorry." Luthor looked into Howard's face, his yearning reflected in the hermit's eyes. "If you wish," Howard continued, "we could meet again later, perhaps exploring some parts of the city and talk, about your son, my son," here Howard looked at the crowd of youngsters, "and, perhaps, those small ones of Generica who no one wants." Luthor thought about it for a moment. "Perhaps we will. I could certainly use a walk in the fresh air." One of the girls tugged on Howard's robes and opened her hand to reveal a captured light. "Good work, Casta," then to Luthor, "My flock awaits my return." "I understand. Have fun, Father Howard. We'll talk again." Luthor waved and departed through the partying throng. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- A very quiet figure walked stealthily along the long hall, lingering over the various objects d'art. Pausing first here, then lingering again before another, he finally reached the true prize of the collection. It was a portrait of a beautiful golden-skinned woman with jet black hair and ice blue eyes. In her arms was a child wrapped in a cloth of the deepest azure. The child's skin was lighter, but there was a definite resemblance between him and his mother. The painting was set in an engraved frame of bright gold and cornered with four perfect emeralds of identical cut and color. He carefully lifted the picture off the wall, his long fingers caressing the canvas. "Admiring my handiwork?" asked Luthor, his eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Ah, hello. I didn't see you there." Surprisingly, the little man did not show signs of being startled. He did, however, put the painting back on its wall hooks. "I am Errol. You have many lovely pieces here, oh, yes, indeed." "Thank you, Errol. I am Luthor, the host." He turned his attention to the objects surrounding him. "These items keep me company. Their memories are worth more than their market value." Errol chuckled depreciatingly. "You may not know it to look at me, but I, too, have an interesting little collection. You must come to the Lighthouse and see them sometime. There is a black bird you may be interested in. It's said to be from Malta." "A tempting offer. Actually, I should spend more time at the Lighthouse. It seems that it's the only why I'm going to see Erik for any length of time." A black form in the shape of a wolf padded silently down the hall and stopped at Luthor's side. It sniffed the air and waited for its master's command. The little man looked over the treasures longingly, and sighed with regret, "I suppose I should go out and be the social butterfly, or ar'Elya will have my head on a platter. Would you accompany me, my lord?" Luthor hesitated, looking around the room, pausing upon the picture of his wife. "No, I think I will stay here for a while. Enjoy yourself though. I'll be down shortly." "Very well, then. I'll be on my way," Errol replied and shuffled off. Luthor stayed where he was, until he knew that Errol was out of temptation's reach. ====== "No, no, no, girl. Put that platter in the center of this table. That's it." Luthor heard the voice before he came up to the long tables set up for the...what had 'Raelf called it? Oh, yes, luau. An older woman with long silver hair was directing the setting up and placement of the food. As he came closer, she looked up and then knelt before him with one knee on the ground. << Elven Lord, I seek to join with you and your guests in celebrating this great occasion. Upon my word, I come as a ally and servant, >> she spoke in the ancient near-musical language of the Golden Elves. Luthor blinked, somewhat startled but was not slow to respond. << Rise and join us as an equal. You are safe in my home. >> He took her hand and helped her to her feet. The woman ascended with an almost elven grace. << Thank you. You are most noble and generous. Honor to your House. >> Luthor smiled with pride. "I haven't been greeted like that since Joshua's Naming. It's quite an honor." "Not at all, Lord Anside," she replied. "I am Sister El'n of the Lighthouse. Thank you for inviting," here her lips quirked, "all of us." "You're quite welcome... You'll have to excuse me... I'm still in a bit of shock from the greeting. It wasn't exactly what I had expected." Luthor steadied himself against a chair, then the colorful arrangement of foods on the table brought him back to the present. "Would you care to eat now?," El'n asked courteously. "This may be your best time, as the meats aren't ready yet, so you won't be forced to see or smell them." As Luthor nodded his assent, she handed him a plate and lead him along the table. "Here's a mango. They're messy, but good. Yes, try a little poi. It's more of a penance than an eating experience, but many enjoy it. This salad is very interesting. It's called 'tabouli', made with grains and vegetables. You just have enough room for these fresh strawberries. Do you eat dairy products of any kind, Lord Anside?" "I have from time to time." "Good, I think you'll like this." She dabbed a small portion of whipped cream on plate. "It goes well with the berries." After his plate was filled, they walked over to a table where they could watch the beach games in progress. El'n had brought a flagon of chilled wine with them, poured out two goblet's worth, and handed one to Luthor. "Long life, good health, and blessings upon you and your House, Lord Anside." Luthor joined her in the toast and took a healthy pull from the goblet. "You may call me 'Luthor' if you wish. 'Lord Anside' is rather formal for an informal gathering. And you, Sister El'n, what religous path do you follow, if I may ask?" El'n smiled at him. "You may, and no, no particular sect or religion. I'm more properly termed a 'godcaller'. " "A non-denominational priestess? How interesting. I never considered the possibility. So you must be more of a philosopher than anything else, right?" "In a way. I prefer the practical application rather than the contemplative life, however." She paused. "Have you enough food?" "Yes, thank you." Luthor looked at his still-untouched plate of food. "Oh, I forgot a spoon for the poi." El'n snickered. "What? Did I say something wrong?" Luthor looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Not at all, Luthor," she smiled genially. "It's just that this particular dish is eaten with the fingers." "With my fingers? Are you sure? Isn't that a little messy?" Luthor looked at the greyish-white poi and shuddered. "Yes, but that's the fun part. Here," and El'n stuck out her first and second fingers, holding down her other two with her thumb. She plunged them up to the second knuckle into the poi. With a peculiar twist of her wrist, she brought her hand up to her mouth and neatly sucked the poi off of her fingers. She then looked expectantly at her host. Luthor watched her carefully. After she was done, he looked around to make sure that Erik wasn't watching and then imitated the process. It had a faint sour, almost rotten tang, and a thick, fibrous consistency. Luthor's eyebrows furrowed. He looked indecisive, as if he were internally debating whether he liked the taste or not. "Hmmmm, it reminds me of something from my childhood. I can't quite place it though." El'n raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know elves ate aged library paste." Luthor didn't know how to respond to this, so he changed the subject. "You're certainly a surprise to me, El'n. I didn't expect someone of your calling to be so...so worldly." At that, El'n threw her head back and laughed, the echo of silver bells resounding softly from the surrounding sea-cliffs. "Oh, my Lord, the _last_ thing I am is an ascetic!" As she turned her head to follow the movements of an especially-attractive volleyball player, she murmured, "Yes, the very last thing, indeed," and drained her goblet again. Luthor looked at her with a smirk. "I think you Lighthouse folk spend all your spare time either saving the world or finding new ways to throw me off balance." She grinned. "More wine, my lord?" ===== Ale is singing "Beautiful Maria of my Soul". The song was in the movie "The Mambo Kings Sing Songs of Love".