This was written for the 4th anniversary of the Barrowdowns as a tribute to its uniqueness.



Cruising down the street, you spot a small building with a round, green door. This must be the new tea shop that everyone is talking about! You decide to peek inside.
The door sticks. When you finally yank it open, you fall flat on your back. You get up and dust yourself off, hoping nobody noticed. You step in the door and are greeted by a riot of noise and color. People of all shapes and sizes sit on and around a myriad of tables that are just as mismatched as they are.
At a nearby table, a young woman greets you cheerfully. “Hello! Are you new here?”
“Well, I’ve never been here...”
”Come sit with us!” She pulls up another chair. So you find yourself at a table with seven total strangers. You look around for a menu, but there are none.
Your table mates are engaged in a spirited discussion of someone named Faramir. Three of them are defending him against some crime that two others are accusing him of; the blonde man at the other end of the table is sitting and watching, and the woman two places down is interjecting at random intervals about how handsome he is.
“He took the Ring! He obviously had some flaw in his character.”
“But he turned away from his evil,” the redhead argues. “His inner goodness triumphed.”
The blonde man leans forward. “Why do you think PJ changed the plot?”
“Such eyes...” says the woman next to your neighbor.
You look around for a waiter. Several men and women dressed in black are walking around, seemingly keeping an eye on the place. They remind you of oversized herons: stalking around, quiet but watchful. One turns in your direction, and you see that they wear a badge of a crossed gavel and pen, silver, on a black field. Definitely not waiters. Does the place hire security?
Turning back to the conversation, you notice that the argument has ended.
“So... is the food good here?” You attempt to make conversation, but all you get for your pains is strange looks.
“Food?”
“What do you mean?”
“Er... this is the tea-shop, isn’t it?” You are greeted with blank looks. “What is this place, then?”
The woman who invited you to the table points to the far wall, and you look. A glowing green sword is hung there. Suspended, somehow, above it, are the words:
“The Barrow-Downs”
“The Barrow-Downs?” you ask. Your table mates nod. “What is it?” But they have started arguing again.
You get up and wander through a door. This room is a giant madhouse; chalkboards covered with writing line all four walls. You look closer, and see that the writing is questions and answers. People race around the room, reading the answers or writing new ones. Occasionally someone reads an answer, nods, and erases the answers. Then someone new scurries in and scrawls another question. You watch in bemusement as two people intent on reaching the same area of the chalkboard collide with each other. Through an open door, you can see another room with a stage where people appear to be telling jokes. One man is applauded, while another is pelted with rotten fruit and jumps laughing off the stage.
Back in the main room, the clientele- no, it’s not a restaurant- the occupants have changed, but the activity is as great as before. A woman dressed in black breaks up a particularly vociferous quarrel between a short, bearded man and a tall, graceful woman; as she glides away, you see something odd in her hair. A short, golden-haired boy bumps into you as you try to follow her, and then you are distracted by slightly open door. The dark room beyond beckons, and strange noises emanate from within. In fact, they sound a lot like screams... You look nervously around. Should you go in?
Your sense of adventure triumphs, and you cautiously approach the portal. Apprehension turns to relief as you poke your head inside and see... a large movie screen, with the silhouettes of a couple dozen viewers before it. They are entranced by what seems to be a massive battle centering around a stone castle. As you watch with them, odd-looking monsters by the thousands swarm the walls. A half-open curtain blocks some of the light from the next room, where more people seem to be talking about the movie. One of the arguments grows loud, and a man with a badge appears to quiet the participants. As he walks away, you notice the same glint in his hair. You follow him back to the main room, but again lose sight of him in the crowd. At your elbow is a black door, so dull as to be almost invisible. You try the knob, but it is locked.
“Why are you trying to get in there?”
You jump. A woman in black has appeared out of thin air.
“I- I was just curious!” you stammer, and scurry away before she can respond.
You see a pair of open French doors directly ahead, with filmy drapes dancing in the breeze, and duck through them to escape the woman. Outside is a wide lawn, covered in a type of grass you’ve never seen before. Several groups of people, all dressed in unusual garb and carrying strange weapons, appear to be having a free-for-all battle. Suddenly they stop; putting down their weapons, they gather in a group and confer in low voices.
A man wanders away from the group. He takes off his grey cloak and uses it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Seeing you standing there, he gives you a broad smile and says, “Welcome to the Downs!” Then he goes to watch another group. Out here, too, you see the black-clad people. Some of them are involved in the battle, and they seem to have excellent reflexes, always knowing when someone is behind them. You come up behind one to ask who the warriors are, and you abruptly find out what the strange glints are.
They’re eyes! Eyes, in the back of these strange peoples’ heads! The man turns around.
“Yes?”
You flee back inside and slip through the first door you come to. The room is a giant library, with bookshelves covering all the walls except for the door and three large windows. Several tables are situated around the room; some have more of a crowd than others. There are no of the people in black in here, and you relax. Edging closer to a table, you hear them discussing Faramir again.
“Frodo should have trusted him,” says a grave young woman, seated.
“But from a literary standpoint, what would that have done to the story? Faramir might have given him counsel that would have changed it.”
“Faramir took the Ring,” you blurt out, happy to be able to add something.
The group exchanges looks. Then one says kindly but firmly, “That was just in the movie. This is the books forum. The movies is out the door to your right. The novice forum is out the door and straight ahead.”
You wander away, feeling idiotic. What is this place, anyway? A woman with one of those badges walks through the door, and you edge away from her. As soon as you can, you leave.
You look for the door you first came in through. Is that it, across the room? It is. As you make your way through the crowds, you feel a hand on your shoulder.
You turn, and jump. It’s one of the heron-people!
“Leaving already?” You nod dumbly. “Be sure to come back. You’re always welcome here.” You continue to stare at him.
“You... you have eyes in the back of your head,” you croak finally.
He smiles and reaches around his head. "They're detachable.” In his palm sit two glistening eyeballs.
It’s too much. You flee. Luckily, the door doesn’t stick on the way out.