milliways_bar | (no subject)

Barry sees the Steward of Gondor, and heads over.

"Good morning. How's the Bar treating you?"

"Good morning," Faramir smiles a greeting. "Very well, thank you. Join me?" He gestures towards his cider. "Not hard to get a second mug."

"Can't say I've had hot cider in a long time. Thanks." Barry takes a seat.

Faramir waves to a rat, orders a mug of cider for Barry, leans back in his chair. "How fares the world, or repetitive ending thereof?" he inquires good-naturedly of his companion.

Faramir, it would seem, is a morning person.

"Well, the world out there seems to be taking care of itself. I guess the end of the universe is one of those things that needs little input from us mere mortals.

"In here though..." Barry pauses and his face becomes a bit grim. "In here, the staff is trying to handle a rather bad situation with a powerful godlike woman. It's not going well, though it looks better than it did two days ago."

His eyes narrow slightly.

"Blodwen Rowlands?" he guesses. "Not that I know her myself, but Lucy mentioned... something. What's going on?" His voice is laced with obvious concern.

"Bad news travels fast, it seems." Barry sighs.

"She is, I think, trying to gain control of as many patrons as possible. I don't know why, though from what Rupert Giles told me, she is as dark as they come, which means she's not up to anything good.

"What's interesting is that one of the people she corrupted, a woman named Faith, was freed of Blodwen's influence by a priest who performed an exorcism. That tells me there is at least a bit of hope we can slow her." Barry figures there is no point of keeping things quiet, since everyone know what's going on. And Faramir does know a little about evil's power to corrupt good.

Faramir listens attentively, taking in this information and mulling over it as the rat returns.

"Rupert Giles," he reflects, "has a room next to mine. I shall ask him if I see him. Lucy told me she'd received a note, but also added that it seems to have been some sort of mix-up. It didn't sound," he adds, "like something that could be as innocent as that, just from the way she looked when she said it. So -- a sorceress. That does not bode well. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Rupert's a good man. Quite the researcher, and one of my investigative staff as well." Barry takes his cider.

"You say your friend received a note? That doesn't sound like Blodwen. She's been very straightforward. By the way, if you see a woman all in white with knitting needles, that's her. Steer clear of her. But let me or someone from security or Bernard know.

"Other than that, I can't think of what you can do. I don't know what I can do, for that matter." A thoght occurs to Barry, one that should have come quicker.

"This note...did it come with a rose?"

"Lucy didn't say who the note was from. Not Blodwen herself, I don't think. I take it the rose is an omen of foul deeds as well?" he asks darkly.

"Yes and no...

"See, there has been a rather obnoxious and somewhat dangerous man stalking the Bar for months now. Man named Salzella. He calls himself the Opera Ghost, and he likes to leave roses and notes for various women. I think he fancies himself a romantic, though when he kidnapped the boyfriend of his first 'intended,' there was nothing romantic about it.

"I've been investigating the case since it started. He's been leaving more notes of late, but I can't find a pattern, and he hasn't done anything beyond the notes in some time.

"So it's fair to call this an omen, but of what I can't say anymore." There is frustration in Barry's voice. A speedster needing months to find one man? It's unheard of!

"A rose-ghost and a possessive sorceress with knitting--" A pause. "Has anybody tried taking her knitting needles? Or destroying them? Is it possible they are the source of her power?"

It sounds a little silly, but frankly, if it were him, he'd sooner put HIS source of power in something as unassuming as knitting needles, as opposed to, for example, a gold ring with peculiar firey markings.

"I don't think her needles are the source of her power. Not the way Giles described her. Though strangest things have happened." Barry tries not to smile as he recalls the One Ring, and wonders about that epic novel, The Lord of the Needles.

"I am quite certain, though, that Giles and the other good wizards and forces of the light are working hard to find what does give her that power. It's connected to the time of year, I think. Winter darkness, perhaps."

One Ring of Power is one-upped by Two Needles of d00m, which grant their bearer the ability to throw stealth snowballs and knit a kick-ass cable pattern.

"Oh, I do not question the abilities of those who know what they're doing to... do it," he gives a soft laugh. "If any place in the universe can rely on the powers of Light to prevail, it is this one.

"Still," he says thoughtfully, "I'd be wary of any suspicious writing on those needles of hers."

And now Barry can't help himself and gives off just enough of a laugh that he then blushes.

"I'm sorry. I'm...familiar with the One Ring, and I know that there was nothing funny about it. So I should not laugh. But the notion of writng on knitting needles...

"I guess I just needed something to laugh at."

He grins.

"Surely there is nothing more worth laughing at than ones troubles. Laughter is as fair a teacher as sorrow.

"However," he says, eyes twinkling, "if anybody picks her needles up and turns invisible, it might be a good idea to stop laughing and run."

"Good thing for me that I can run really fast," Barry say before taking a sip of cider.

"By the way, my girlfriend told me she'd met you before I did. Sara Sidle?"

Faramir thinks a moment, then nods. "She had a microscope. She let me look at it. FASCINATING," he gushes a bit. Technology is exciting.

Barry smiles. It still impresses him how much simple things like microscopes and electricity impress those from the magical and pre-technological worlds.

"You shouls see the equipment that she uses at her office."

Dude. It impresses his MUN, too. Don't knock the amoeba-watchers of the world.

"She did mention something of that ilk, I believe," he says. "It is astounding how far other worlds have progressed in areas we don't even know of yet."

"I have to note that I'm from only a few years from before Sara, and in the same line of work, and it astounds me how much things change, and how fast.

"And you haven't even encountered the computer yet, have you?" Sometimes Barry's enthusiasm for tech gets ahead of his good sense in raising such things.

"I haven't," he says. ~~Though you should see the mun's other Tolkien puppet kick ass at Minesweeper then fall off the chair when the laptop squeaks at him.~~ "What does that do?"

How to explain? Barry never tried to explain a computer to Eska, even after three months of teaching her about Earth. He left that sort of things to Ray.

Well, in for a penny...

"A computer is a device that is a work-saver. It's an electronic device, which means it's run by electricity , like the lights here. But it uses the electricity to do a vast number of mathematical operations in a short time. In turn, that allows the computer to lets its user do a wide array of tasks." He hopes he got it right.

[ooc: who is your other Tolkien pup?]

[ooc: Gorlim the Obscure and Angstful. :P ]

Faramir nods. He catches on quickly. "It is a mechanical brain," he paraphrases.

"Essentially. Though the more advanced the computer gets, the less moving parts it has. And from what I know, they have advanced vastly since my death. I've even hard there is a way to convert music into electronic form, and then be played on something as small as your hand." The IPod would impress Barry if he ever saw one.

Just the description makes Faramir's eyes go wide.

"Without a minstrel to play it!" he exclaims. "That would be a wonder. Almost magic."

"A famous man on my world once suggested that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. I think he was almost right.

"Though from what I've seen magic, technology comes up short."

"I think," Faramir says, "it must be that there is something of love in magic, always -- whether it is in its presence or its absense. It is defined by it. Machines, however, are cold. They are defined by their neutrality. A machine will work the same regardless of its users intentions; it will do what it was made to do. Magic is not so. A machine might force a heart to beat, pump the blood, work the brain; but if the soul has slipped away, what is it for? A man is more than life. So it is with magic."

Barry considers this. It's a very interesting take, and Barry thinks for a moment.

"I think for the most part, you are right. Certainly most people use machines and never give them a thought.

"But there are people who treat technology with a passion that rivals the feelings a wizard can have for magic. I have a friend name Ray Stantz who puts everything he has into his devices. And I cxan say with all honesty that he loves some them." Barry does not mention the sentient AI in Ecto 1 that calls Ray "Daddy".

"Then perhaps it is a little of both -- and to each path its passions. I have no experience with computer machines, but in my world, Men cannot be wizards. Technology is out magic, and perhaps a more fitting love, for it is genuinely the work of humanity."

Barry hadn't quite grasped that Gandalf wasn't truly human - though he sohuld have - and is a little surprised to larn this.

"On my world, and many of the ones represented here, humans can wield magic. Though often the path to such power takes them awway from being part of society on my world. Either by changing the person, or how the person sees things."

"That does make sense," Faramir says, a touch regretfully. "Magic can change a person for all his life if touched just once -- sometimes for the better, sometimes worse. There is one in the bar now who could tell you much of how that might happen on our world. He is the Hobbit called Smeagol."

"He's here!?" Barry tries not to say this too loudly. But it's a very surprising thing to learn.

"Sorry. As I've said, I know some of what happened with the Ring. And with Smeagol."

"He is. Although I'm afraid he's not forgiven me for what I did to him." Faramir looks at his hands sadly. "It was... rash of me. I would very much like to make ammends for my ill judgement."

Barry, not trusting his memory for the books, and not wanting to reveal just how much he knows - or explain how - plays along.

"What did you do to him?"

"I had him bound and tried before me like a criminal, for such was he in myt eyes. I had him tricked and treated ungently by my men. With him, my caution outweighed mercy; the fear of war and love of home were strong in me. Smeagol has no love for me, and rightly so: we neither met nor parted as friends."

"How you treatd him was understandable, however, given that he was under the Ring's spell and was - if what I know is correct - something of a savage. I also think you can't be blamed for judging him by appearance, even if it's never the wisest way to approach strangers.

"Can I ask if he's free of the Ring here? I think if we had a half-mad, narly naked Smeagol running about, I think I would have heard." Though Barry would admit that staff communciations need work.

Faramir shakes his head. "No indeed; he is quite unlike the Gollum-creature I had captured -- not very long ago, it seems. He has been freed of the curse of the Ring, though more than that I cannot tell you. He was loathe to speak to me. I had very few words with him before he scurried under a table and I lost him."

Barry grins a bit. "That's not surprising. Even if he's reformed, he'll need time to forget what happened. The few enemies of mine who reformed, it always took a while for them to forget the past.

"Can I ask when you are in relation to the end of the Ring?"

Faramir nods, understanding that people arrive from all different points in their stories. "I arrived here the night -- or possibly pre-dawn morning -- two days after Aragorn's corronation as King -- the day after he named me Prince of Ithilien. That is one month and one week after the destruction of the Ring."

"Prince...I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty. Is there any way I'm supposed to act?" Barry says this lightly. He can tell that Faramir is not letting this go to his head.

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"Prince...I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty. Is there any way I'm supposed to act?" Barry says this lightly. He can tell that Faramir is not letting this go to his head.

<small.{ooc: slowtime must commence for work.]</small>

~~b/c it's Faramir's turn~~

Van Helsing gets the oddest sense of deja vu, but ignores it for the time being and just nods politely as he walks by.

He would like it known that this is the third person he's seen who looks damn-near exactly like Carl - who also happens to be a bar patron from time-to-time. It messes with his head.

~~bwahaha~~

"Good morning," Faramir replies pleasantly.

In damn near Carl's voice.

He is spared the confusion of having to think Van Helsing resembles anyone from his own world. Mostly on account of Aragorn never having worn such a silly hat.

Van Helsing would scoff and sneer at such mocking of his hat.

He blinks and stops and turns to the Carl-with-long-hair.

It was the voice.

"Morning."

Ah yes, he is, yet again, confused.

"You seem a little lost," the prince observes. "Anything I can help with?"

Not that he knows his way around all that well either...

He shakes his head.

"Not lost. Know my way around. Just... confused."