From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus)
Subject: Re: Song of Sixpence - Part Eight
Organization: Data I/O Corporation
Date: Mon, 5 Oct 1992 00:48:03 GMT

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>	Rachel hugs Liralen and drags down the meadow, looking for...

Liralen hugs Rachel back, and blinks a little at Rachel dragging down the
meadow.  Wow...

>"Aha!" she says exultantly. "These blueberry bushes are exactly like
>the ones in my grandmother's backyard in Savannah, GA- no sandspurs or
>poisonous snakes, though!"She picks a blueberry and holds it up so everyone
>can see that it is larger than most such berries- larger than some grapes.

Liralen nods. That's the size of the blueberries out here, too.

>"This is the problem with living in New England," she sighs. "Up here
>they think blueberries are the size of a baby's fingernail." She takes
>out a picnic basket from behind one of the bushes and produces:
>
>Large blueberry muffins
>blueberry crisp
>fruit salad (with blueberries, of course!)

Wow!

>	She hugs Liralen again. "Have a very happy birthday!"

"Thank you." says Liralen.

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>
>Alfvean spots Liralen and the growing pile of food, and takes off his Backpack 
>in one smooth motion, setting it down on the ground.  Thusly is revealed the 
>back of his jacket, which sports an eagle in the same fuzzy material as on the
>shoulders.  He unzips the backpack and lifts out first a pair of oven mitts,
>and then a pie, steaming hot.  "Brought a little dessert," he says.

Liralen smiles at Alfvean, but it's a slightly distracted smile.  She wants
a closer look at the back of his jacket...

>"Liralen says you're fond of blueberries.  Well, so am I.  But I was wondering
>if you've ever indulged much in saskatoons.  (For those unaware, saskatoons are
>wild berries common in Alberta, at least, that are similar to blueberries
>except that they're smaller and tarter.)  So, anyway, Nicole accidentally
>forgot to cut her pie-shell recipe in half, and we've been eating lots of
>pie the past week or two.  So we thought we'd give you a pie.  Nicole baked
>it--all I did was provide the VR saskatoons(alas, we don't have any RL).  So
>if you haven't tried it and would like to, go right ahead.  But then, perhaps
>in Washington you still have saskatoons...?"

"I haven't heard of them," she says.  "But we have something we call
huckleberries, which are far smaller than our blueberries and are tarter as
well, but they're red in color as opposed to blue.  They're so small,
though, we usually only pick enough of them to put in pancakes, a pie would
be almost a full day's worth of work."

She takes a forkful of the saskatoon pie and smiles.  "I think I'll look
for these at the Pike Place market, they have almost everything..."

>Then he noticed the gazes still fastened(covetously?)to the back of his jacket.

Liralen listens with interest about the jacket, and then lightly touches
the back.  Wow...

>"Anyway..." he sets the pie down and gives Liralen a big hug(and Blammor and
>Phee, if they're available).  "Happy Birthday, Liralen.  >Maybe< next summer
>we'll find the time to come down to Seattle--it will depend on job and money
>and stuff like that, and whether I can convince Nicole to do it."

"THAT would be wonderful."

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>
>	Smoke presents the haunch of venison.  "When I was a boy, the men 
>would go hunting in the fall.  they would bring back deer, turkeys, what
>ever they could get.  They would dress it and put it in the smoke house
>so that we would have food during the winter.  Then, we would sit arround
>the fire, and the old men would tell stories."
>	Didi smiles in deligght.   "Tell us a story, Smoke!"

	Phee runs up at the mention of a story and listens, enraptured by
the tale.  She *likes* it when stories turn out with the cheater losing and
the good guy winning; and she's always admired the horns of the deer that
wonder through the trees at home.  In the spring she is always amazed to
see the strips of velvet hanging off of them, or to touch a tree that's
been cut by a buck sharpening his horns.

>	Smoke sets his rifle down  and joins the others in the feast.

	Thank you for your gift.  Stories are dear to me... and I will
remember to tell them elsewhere...

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>
>	Bear walks out onto the field from one of the tents striding 
>through knee deep piles of leaves with 10 1L stiens in true Ocktoberfest 
>tradition.  Half are filled with a rich dark beer and the other half with 
>hot spiced cider.  He hands them out and then lifts his own.  

Liralen is absolutely amazed at Bear's strength, and eagerly takes one of
the steins of hot cider.   

>      "To Liralen, Alles Gute Zum Deine Geburtstag!  Happy Birthday."  

She grins and swings her stein up.  Something that lovely and heavy seems
*made* for toasting with.  After the toast is made, she begs a sip of the
dark beer from one of the patron's that took one of those steins.  The brew
is rich and thick with flavor, rather hoppy and very, very good.

>       HE takes a hefty swig and then starts singing "Happy Birthday"  
>with everyone swinging ther mugs in unision to the beat and downing 
>a gulp during the rests.  When the finally line come out He dives down 
>and land on his knees in a small pile of leaves. and in wavering tones 
>an dunshure pitch he utters "and many more!"  <Crash!>

Liralen blinks a little at the dive, and sets her stein down on a table at
the crash.  She goes forward and touches Bear lightly on the wrist and
throat and grins and sighs.  No problem.  Just happily drunk.

Gently, she kisses him on the head, and wraps a couple of wooly shawls over
him and hopes he'll sleep it off comfortably.

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>
>		After reverencing (brings one leg back, bends it a little
>	while keeping the front one straight, then straightens up again),
>	the dark elf says, "I was forewarned by people that today is a very 
>       special day for you.  So, I asked around some friends for a decent 
>       gift, and they managed to put together these."  From an inner pocket in 
>	his coat, he pulls out a pair of potholders.  "If you look closely, 
>	you'll see they're silk, and, depending on what angle you look at 
>	them, you can see various types of foods woven into the patterns."

Liralen takes the potholders and looks at them one way and sees a turnip,
another way, and there is a pheasent under glass, another and there are
lamb chops, and another and there is an amazing red velvet chocolate cake.

>		"Also..."  He holds out his hand, palm up, and from his
>	sleeve scurries out a spider, of the cute and cuddly variety.
>	"He's not really a gift, but he was really interested in finding
>	out about human spinners' guilds, so he volunteered to apprenetice
>	himself to you.  Oh, and here's a copy of Sorcerer's Son by Phyllis
>	Eisenstein to give you an idea of how spiders and humans can work
>	together."

Liralen takes the spider into her palm, and studies it and then puts it up
next to the black fuzzy, in the warmth and hollow of her neck.  It happily
snuggles up.  She smiles at the book and notes the author and title for
latter reading...

"Thank you," she says to Michael the Chaotic, and gently touches the
spider, "I've been teaching, lately, at a one of the largest spinning and
knitting shops in the area.  Half a dozen folks came from 200 miles away
for my lace spinning class, but I don't know if I'd have anything to teach
a spider."  She smiles, "Every morning, I go out of the door and find webs
silver and air strung up all around the plum trees, with black and brown
spiders waiting within the centers.  They're amazing.  But I'll let him
decide for himself... and take him to the next Sammamish Plateu Guild
meeting..."

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>The Polymath arrives bearing stacks of pizza boxes with "Numero Uno" labels
>and smelling of pineapple.

"YOW!!" says Liralen and trots over to hug the Polymath, "I'm glad you could
make it!!"  She sniffs the aroma from the boxes appreciatively, "Some of the
finest pizza I've ever eaten..."

>"Happy birthday, Liralen, and best wishes for many more.  *HUG*"

"Thank you," she says with the hug, "And many thanks for the wishes..."
---
Liralen Li
li@inigo.Data-IO.com
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
From: mtemplar@redunser.demon.co.uk (Alan Ralph)