Dinner in Ireland.
WHO: Linus, Theodore, Edric, Simeon and Niamh.
WHERE: Vaisey Manor, Ireland.
WHEN: Dinnertime 11-13-97.
WHAT: The Vaiseys and Notts have dinner.
STATUS: Continuing.
Across windswept fens and the wildflowers found therein. Across the rolling hills and woods of County Donegal. Down a deeply grooved wagon road made muddy in the soft Irish weather. Crest that one last hill before one sees the cold Atlantic and there sits a medium-sized grey dwelling. It is dour and cold, its wrought iron gates aged and harsh. The stone of the building is drab, its roof and walls weathered with rain and age. But there is a promise of warmth, for within lies the soothing golden glow of a fire or candlelight. In the window just off the entrance and upon the second floor a figure stands poised and silhouetted, as if examining the newcomers.
Sculpted Yews carved masterfully into the forms of humanoid- grotesque and angelic- stare down from their positions at the ones at the door. A door of heavy English oak and reinforced with artfully sculpted wrought iron. As if in anticipation, the doors simply open. Awash of warmth curls from the foyer, along with the sweet smell of roasting meats and tempting sweetbreads.
A small, aged House Elf with large watery eyes and an aquiline nose shuffles from behind the door. He bows very low and in a squeaky voice speaks, "Welcome, Masters to Vaisey Hall."
WHERE: Vaisey Manor, Ireland.
WHEN: Dinnertime 11-13-97.
WHAT: The Vaiseys and Notts have dinner.
STATUS: Continuing.
Across windswept fens and the wildflowers found therein. Across the rolling hills and woods of County Donegal. Down a deeply grooved wagon road made muddy in the soft Irish weather. Crest that one last hill before one sees the cold Atlantic and there sits a medium-sized grey dwelling. It is dour and cold, its wrought iron gates aged and harsh. The stone of the building is drab, its roof and walls weathered with rain and age. But there is a promise of warmth, for within lies the soothing golden glow of a fire or candlelight. In the window just off the entrance and upon the second floor a figure stands poised and silhouetted, as if examining the newcomers.
Sculpted Yews carved masterfully into the forms of humanoid- grotesque and angelic- stare down from their positions at the ones at the door. A door of heavy English oak and reinforced with artfully sculpted wrought iron. As if in anticipation, the doors simply open. Awash of warmth curls from the foyer, along with the sweet smell of roasting meats and tempting sweetbreads.
A small, aged House Elf with large watery eyes and an aquiline nose shuffles from behind the door. He bows very low and in a squeaky voice speaks, "Welcome, Masters to Vaisey Hall."