In the Shadow of the Star: Part 2

[Child of the 7th Age]

This is the continuation of our first game thread......

Child's post

Darkness had fallen over the compound by the time Stoatie managed to get around to speaking with the Boss. He dropped by Ferny's place after dinner to get the final word on when they'd be leaving the next day and what they were supposed to do.

Ferny was sitting hunched over at the planning table, staring down at a whole pile of maps that were sprawled out before him. The room was dimly lit by the pale light of several lanterns hanging down from the rafters, and a single candle that the Boss held in his left hand right over the papers he was studying. Ferny glanced up at Stoatie and grunted a terse welcome, gesturing him to sit down and listen.

"I don't want screw ups on this, Stoatie. No excuses and no mess ups. Just get the brats away and haul them here as fast as you can. I got plans. Big plans."

Stoatie's face dropped at Ferny's words. He spat out his disgust. "Me! You want me to handle those brats? You promised me I'd git to rough up some kid and deliver the ransom note. It ain't no fun gittin' stuck with babies. And two of 'em to boot. What if they git on my nerves, and my knife slips a little?"

The Boss turned and bellowed. "Hear this, and hear it good, Stoatie! Your knife ain't gonna' slip. I want those brats untouched. If one of them gits hurt, you're gonna find my hands around yer neck real quick."

Stoatie sighed and nodded. The Boss didn't make idle threats. Time and again, Stoatie had seen him follow through on promises against whoever dared to challenge him.

Once Stoatie had backed down, Ferny spoke more reassuringly, "Look. You got to swipe those kids. I'm not sure about the new man yet. He's been doin' a good job keepin' his nose clean, and he's too good with the sword to leave behind. But I have to keep a close eye on 'im. You're the only one I can trust. Stoatie, you pull this off, and I promise that you'll be livin' purty.

Ferny set down the candle and picked up the chart that he'd specially marked for Stoatie. "Those brats shouldn't be a problem if you take the mother along with you. Threaten 'er kids and she'll keep 'em good and quiet. You'll be back 'ere in no time."

"Now git some sleep for a little bit. We'll be ridin' all night tonight and well into tomorrow. First to Bree where I need to tie up some business and then back into the Shire."

"Oh, yeah, one more thing. Don't forget to tell Mithadan he'll be helpin' to deliver that ransom note. And if he does a good job, there'll be something in it for 'im."

"You comin' too Boss?" Stoatie queried, as he picked up the map and started to leave.

"Sure I'm comin'. I'll ride with Mith and Ratty. We'll all go together to the outskirts of town. Look, here's a grove of trees north of the Water where we can hide till nightfall." Ferny gestured at the map. "You go in first and git out fast. Then we'll follow."

"Hey, boss, I can leave that note for you. You don't have to hang around."

Ferny shook his head and grinned. "No, I'm gonna' enjoy that part. I been waitin' a long time to git back at Frodo and Sam. A real long time." He turned away and stared blindly at the wall as Stoatie left the room.


Mithadan's post

The days had dragged unmercifully. Each night, Mithadan had been escorted firmly to a brick hut without windows. After being handed a piece of bread, some dried meat, a cup of water and, when he was lucky, an apple, he was led into the hut and locked in. There was little air and the heat was nearly unbearable. But worst of all, Bird had not come by in any form. At first, he was worried. But when no harm came to him, he fixed in his mind that she simply could not evade her guards without placing herself or the children at risk.

The children... He had journeyed to Bree to find them and had quickly done so. But now, when they were a few hundred paces away, he could do nothing but bide his time and wait for an opportunity to somehow effect a rescue. The likelihood of accomplishing this without planning ahead with Bird was, however, slim. Thus he resolved to break the impasse, whether the Shapechanger liked it or no.

So after he had eaten, he composed himself as best he could in the heat and filth of the hut. Then he reached out to Bird using Osanwe. He found the experience to be akin to trying to catch a writhing fish with bare hands. Each time he thought that he had reached her, she slipped away until, at last, in frustration he gave up. But even as he did so he sensed anger and an image of two babes in a basket. The image vanished even as he reached for it, leaving him confused and suffering from a throbbing head.

His headache woke with him in the morning and accompanied him through the day. The hot summer sun did not improve his mood, though at least he had access to water and better food as he stood watch. But this day passed as mindlessly as the last and a pall of depression fell upon him as the sun approached the western horizon. He followed the ruffians numbly as they led him back towards his hut. However, this evening would be different, for even as they approached the hovel, Stoatie stepped out from behind a nearby tree.

"Enjoyin yerself, are yah?" he asked with a cruel curl to his lip. "Well, I've heard that you've been a good lad and haven't done nothing wrong...yet. So I'm thinkin maybe it's time to reward yah with a bit o fun. Are yah up fer it?"

Mithadan smiled through the haze of his headache, hoping sincerely that he looked friendly rather than as if he were baring his fangs...


Child's post

Stoatie grinned broadly at the man. "Mithie, maybe I was wrong about yer. When you came, I figgured you was too soft to last. Besides, I thought you'd turn tail and run. But you done alright by the Boss."

"Now he wants to give you somethin' big. Mithie, come through on this and yah might go up a peg or two. Ferny might even let yah turn the screws on some of the others who ain't so smart."

Stoatie pulled Mithadan into the nearest shed and roughly shoved him to his knees. Then he pushed a map in front of his nose and, pointing at Hobbiton, began to explain what Ferny had in mind. Much to Stoatie's frustration, Mithadan kept interrupting with questions. After a while, the henchman exploded with anger, "Enough askin' questions! It's real simple. Shifty and I take care of those brats. Maybe we drag along the Elf witch to shut 'em up and stick a sword in 'er throat. You git the fun job. The Boss'll pick out a special kid and have yah rough 'em up. Then give 'im a note to deliver. That's all yer gotta know."

Mithadan opened his mouth but before he could speak Stoatie smacked him square in the face with the flat of his hand. "Yer gotta learn. Don't ask nothin'. Maybe I know more and maybe I don't, but I ain't gonna tell the likes of yah."

With that the henchman stalked out of the shed, glaring back over his shoulder to shout out a final warning, "Jest be ready in a few hours. We got serious business to pull down."

********************************************

Child's post

It was already past midnight when Stoatie awoke and blearily pried opened his eyes. His head was still throbbing from what he'd done a few hours before. After his talk with Mithy, he'd gone to his room and spent an hour or two finishing off the tail end of a keg of homemade brew. He was supposed to be up and about at midnight, but things hadn't worked out quite like that.

Not that it would keep him from doing his job. Drunk or sober, Stoatie had a mean streak that would brook no opposition once he set out to do the bidding of the Boss. And nothing gave him greater delight than turning the screws on those whom he deemed most defenseless. Hauling off a bunch of brats and their stupid mother was just up his alley.

Stoatie turned and peered out the tiny window that faced out on the compound. In the shadows of a moonless night, several of the men had already gathered near the front gate in anticipation of the group leaving. Stoatie watched carefully as the new man paced back and forth. Whatever Ferny might say, Stoatie did not trust him. That discussion after dinner had clinched it. The man was too quiet and kept to himself too much. And when he finally did open up, he asked too dang many nosey questions.

Ferny's chief henchman stumbled out of bed and threw on a pair of breeches and a shirt. Then, he slipped on a long brown cowl that could be pulled up to hide his face. Brushing the dirt off his tattered pants, Stoatie ran out to the horse pen and barked instuctions to the stable lad.

"Hey, Mister Stoatie," the boy slyly interrupted. "We thought you was gonna sleep all night."

"Shut yer trap!" Stoatie growled, striking the boy full in the face with the flat of his hand. "It ain't no time for jokes. We've a job to pull down. Now, git goin'. Bring me a horse."

Stoatie watched as the lad led out a gentle bay and began to place the halter over her head.

"Are you daft boy? Not that old thing. I'm not goin' on a picnic here. Git me the fastest one you have."

The stable boy hesitated for a minute, "But Mister Stoatie, that would be Thrasher. No one rides Thrasher, not even the Boss. He's too mean."

Stoatie bellowed back. "Today that changes. I ride Thrasher. I'm feelin' as mean as he is. And bring in that other horse from the back pen. The one they call Thunder. Saddle 'em up for Shifty."

The stable lad smothered a grin and was about to object, then thought better of it. Best keep his thoughts to himself, or he'd end up with another whack. Stoatie and Shifty were no great riders, at least not with steeds the likes of Thunder and Thrasher. The horses would be no trouble on the outward journey. It was only when they turned homeward and got within a few miles of the stables that they'd live up to their reputation. The boy shrugged his shoulders. That was their problem, not his.

Stoatie went back inside the stables and picked out a stiff, barbed rod that the men normally used for prodding cattle. He felt the razor sharp point and grinned, stuffing it through the loop of his pants. He'd used it as a whip on Thrasher to keep the beast in line. Maybe he'd even use it on the brats, if he could find a way to do that without Ferny getting wise.

Then he hurried back to the gate and mounted up on Thrasher, making sure to keep a close eye on Mithy while he waited for the Boss to arrive.

[ September 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Mithadan's post

7 Cermië

After his conversation with Stoatie, Mithadan was again locked in his hut. His hands shook. Only with the greatest of efforts had he managed to remain impassive as Stoat had outlined Ferny's plan to steal the twins and kidnap Piosenniel. Even so, his face or demeanor had communicated something to Stoat that had led the bandit to strike Mithadan. His fingers twitched as if Stoatie's throat were in reach, but he forced himself to become calm.

He had spent the day in a fog with his head throbbing from the ill-fated effort to contact Bird the night before. Now, he must use Osanwe again to contact his wife and warn her of the impending plot. He slumped to the floor and rested with his back to the cold brick wall and attempted to clear his mind with difficulty. He struggled to breath evenly. They would steal my children! He took a long and ragged breath. They will attack my wife!

At length, he calmed himself and reached out towards The Shire. But try as he might, his every effort to contact Piosenniel failed. It was as if he was reaching towards a fortress but each time stumbled against its walls. He could just detect a warm murmuring from within; that of a mother whispering to her children. But he could not breach the walls that encircled the three. Piosenniel!

He hammered at the dirt floor with his fists in frustration and tried again... and again...without success. He had heard of the special bond that an Elven mother had with her infant but had not realized the strength of the bond. Perhaps if he had been an Elf himself, he could have penetrated the blanket which enclosed mother and children. But he was a mere Man. He slept little that night.

~*~*~*~*~

8 Cermië - Party Day


Child's post

Shortly after midnight, Ferny led the band out the front gate and told the men they'd make for the Pony first. He slowed his mount and rode up beside Stoatie to explain what was actually happening.

"We should get there by sunrise. There's some extra help signing on. Gotta look 'em over and send 'em straight to the quarries to train as guards. Can't be too careful. Once these hobbits find out we've nabbed the brats, no telling what they'll try to do."

"And then?" prodded Stoatie.

"Then we'll rest and eat, and swop out our horses for fresh ones. We'll head straight down the Eastern Road, and veer north at the Brandywine so there ain't so many nosey people gapin' at us. A friend'll meet us in a quiet spot with fresh horses and git us across the river.

Stoatie looked over and grinned, "You shure got things planned out!"

"I ain't gonna have nothin' go wrong" the Boss glowered in reply, "All we gotta do is hightail it back to the quarry. Once we git there, with all those extra guards, no way those hobbit brats can do anything 'cept jest what I tell 'em."

"That's about it. We'll stick north of the Water once we cross into the Shire. In the woods where it's easy to hide. The trip'll take a little longer, but we don't want to pull the job down anyways till it's after dark."

Ferny nodded his head in agreement as the two men urged their horses forward, with the rest of the band following close behind.


Pio's post:

Despite the fears of her afternoon dreamings , and the fact that she had slept with her sword at the head of the bed and a knife beneath her pillow, Pio had dropped into a deep sleep for the night and awoke refreshed just as morning’s first pale light crept in through the curtains. Her only dreams that night were pleasant ones, safe ones, and the only times she roused was to nurse the twins and tuck them back safe against her.

Hearing her stir, Gilly came in to take the babies once they had their hunger satisfied. ‘I’ll get them washed up and changed and prettied up. We’ll be going to Sam’s in a few hours – I’ve told Miz Rose I would help with last minute things, and Amaranthas wants to bring some flowers from her garden over for the decorations.’

Pio sat up and leaned back against the headboard, groaning. ‘Are you hurting?’ asked Gilly, a look of concern on her face. Pio shook her head no and sighed. ‘I just remembered. Cami said this was to be a potluck celebration, and I will be expected to bring something.’ She thought back with chagrin to her defeat at the hands of the pie dough in the Inn’s kitchen, and the despairing look Cook had given her.

The Hobbit grinned widely at the Elf, wondering how one so capable could be so inept in the kitchen. ‘There’s no need for concern there, Mistress Piosenniel. Cook has already taken care of that, since you’ve been ill and all, and will be supplying enough food to cover your contribution.’ Gilly’s eyes glinted mischievously. ‘That and the fact she mentioned Amaranthas could probably not stand the assault you would make on her kitchen!’ Gilly scurried out the door, the babies in her arms. Her retreating figure was caught lightly in the back by a pillow tossed from the bed.

*********************************************

Child's post

As the golden rays of dawn filtered through the lacey curtains, Cami arose to check on Holly, placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, and then slipped out of the burrow to scurry down by the edge of the pond. She sought out a smooth, flat stone from the many that lay scattered along the bank, and, with a practiced grip, hurled it deftly across the surface of the water. Three, four, and five times the shiny grey pebble skipped, skimming quickly forward, going further and further from shore until it hesitated and sank beneath the waters, disappearing from her sight.

The hint of a smile played on Cami's lips, for Hobbits considered such a skilled throw to be a sure sign of luck. And Cami knew she was going to need all the luck she could get to make it through this day and the week that lay ahead. She didn't even know whether to laugh or cry because this moment in time had finally come. Although the twins had been born, she still had no idea what would happen to herself or Maura after they intertwined their arms and the cord was tied about their wrist. Perhaps, their time together would end as abruptly as it had started, with no warning or explanation so that, once more, she would be stranded in another age. She tried to think of Bilbo's words of encouragement and hope, but it was difficult when so much was so uncertain.

When she'd arrived in the Shire, and found out why she was here, all her thoughts had initially been focused on the ceremony where she and Maura would pledge their troth in front of family and friends. Somehow events had passed them by, and that public ceremony seemed less important than before. She had already given her private promise, both to Maura and Eru, speaking the time honored words of the hobbits of Beleriand while standing beside this pond. They had joined their lives together, and now she carried his unborn child. What need was there for anything more? Especially when the shadow had cast its ugly form over the Shire, and so many good hobbit parents grieved for the loss of their children. And when she herself had no idea what the coming weeks would bring.

Except for not wanting to disappoint Bilbo, Cami could see little reason for going forward with a public handfasting. She had a wavering feeling in the pit of her stomach that it might be better to forget about any exchange of vows or party at Bag-end, and just ask people to stay at home.

It was at this point that she saw Lorien sitting near the shoreline no more than thirty paces distant. He beckoned to her with his hand, and she walked obediently over to him, wondering why he wanted to see her. He was a Vala. His ways were not like those of her own people. For some reason Cami could not comprehend, he had done nothing to try and help the residents of the Shire to defend themselves against the thieves and kidnappers.

She approached Lorien with some hesitency, and sat down on the rocky bank with her legs drawn up close to her body and her arms clasped tightly around them, while she waited to hear what the Vala had to say.

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Pio's post:

8 Cermië

Breakfast, such as it was, was done. Amaranthas had no time to fuss over the Elf who had obviously made it to the kitchen with a minimum of hobbling. ‘There’s some seed cake in the bread drawer,’ she said as she gathered her flower basket and cutters from off the stand next to the back door. ‘I’m going out in the garden to find some flowers to take to Miz Rose’s.’

Amaranthas was nearly out the door when Pio came hobbling up behind her. ‘Wait for me,’ she mumbled, her mouth stuffed with a chunk of seedcake and an apple in her hand. ‘I need to get out doors myself. The walls are closing in on me a bit. Let me go with you; I will hold the basket for you.’

The garden was at its morning freshest as they walked among the flower beds. Amaranthas strode with a critical eye from planting to planting, snipping bunches here and there and laying them carefully in the basket. The old Hobbit was a wealth of information on flower growing and more interestingly, to Pio, on flower lore.

‘They all have a meaning, Miz Pio,’ she said as they walked along. ‘Look over there, that ivy that trails over that garden wall. Ordinary looking isn’t it?’ Pio nodded her head yes, wondering what the old woman would make of the everyday, ordinary vine that crept its way in everywhere.

Amaranthas cut several long strands of it and handed it to the Elf. ‘We’ll take to Miz Rose’s with us, and twine it in among the red and white roses on the wicker trellis where Cami and Maura will say their vows. It will be a reminder of marital love, as are those roses, and a declaration of the fidelity, friendship, and affection they share.’ Shading her eyes from the sun, she glanced up at Pio. ‘You know Cami has chosen little bouquets of primroses and wood sorrel to honor you and the little ones – primroses for them and wood sorrel for your joy and delight in them.’

‘Hmmm,’ Pio’s face bore a look of consideration, and she began to question Amaranthas as they walked about on the meanings of the plants in her garden. When the Hobbit had gotten what she wanted, she traipsed back to her kitchen, the Elf trailing thoughtfully behind her.

I shall just borrow those, if I may,’ Pio said taking the flower shears from off the counter where Amaranthas had laid them after trimming the ends of the flowers. ‘You go ahead and stay here to fix up your bouquet. I am going back out to make one of my own.’

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Child's post

Cami tugged nervously at the green gemstone that hung on a simple ribbon about her neck. She refused to look up and meet Lorien's gaze. Instead, she stared stubbornly across the pond and waited for him to speak. For several moments, the only sound she could hear was the soft murmur of water that lapped noiselessly against the shore. Then, an owl hooted from the woods, and the spell of silence was broken. Lorien knelt down beside Cami, then sat and stretched out his long legs, turning to confront her.

"Sometimes, even the giver of dreams lies trapped in a silver web of mist. So it happened last night. On the eve of your wedding, a vision came to me in troubled sleep. In my dream, I watched as the sky grew dark and a great storm arose. The wind shifted, and the clouds began to drift apart, with tiny patches of blue appearing in between. Yet still, the rain fell and would not stop."

"Then a voice spoke to me over the tumult: 'You must not forget. The storm will not abate until you tell her why she is here and what she must do.'"

Cami gave Lorien an odd glance and replied, "How can this be? I know why I'm here. That Maura and I may exchange vows. And who spoke to you?"

Lorien shook his head, "I do not know. But afterward, I remembered something I had forgotten." He looked straight at Cami, "You are here for three reasons, not just one. Like Frodo, you have come to the Shire to stand by Bilbo when he chooses to pass from Arda. But that is not all. In distant years, your people will be forgotten, your tales hidden in the pattern of warp and weft that underlies the fabric of time. But, like the Elves, you will leave gifts to those who come after you. Not gifts passed down by blood, but rather by example. From the example of your people, the big folk will learn to cherish the earth and to focus on the families that bring them into the world. For no people who live within Arda center their lives on children and family as fully as you hobbit folk do."

Lorien turned and wagged a finger directly under the hobbit's nose. "Think, Cami, think. Think back to the Star and the conversations you had with Olorin. Even before you came here, in Greenwood, you felt and sensed the brokenness in your home. And when Maura first came to the Inn, you spoke of it with tears to each other, but little more was done."

She stared up woodenly at him. "You are speaking of the boys, and of Gamba?

He snapped back at her, "Don't they have names? They are something more than "boys".

Anger and frustration flooded into Cami's mind, "Don't you think I can see the problem. But what can I do? I can't do it by myself. I've tried and tried. The Tombs broke Gamba into pieces and I can't make him whole again. "

"Maybe not. But if you give up now, you will surely fail. If you can't do it by yourself, then try to do it as a family."

Cami closed her eyes with tears brimming over, "I would if Maura was coming home with me. But I've been given no promises. And it's so hard. The little ones look to Gamba as their parent, and I am shut out."

Lorien impatiently glared back, "Promises? No one in this life is given promises. And who said anything would be easy? All you can do is make a start the best you can. What happens later, happens. Neither you or I control that. But you and Maura can choose whether you make a start."

Cami stared down at the earth and said nothing. Then she looked up at him and queried, "You will come to Bag-end, then?"

"To the party, no. But I swore to Olorin that I would be there and witness your public exchange of vows."

"And you would slip the mantle over our heads to unite us as a family, as the custom of our people demands?"

He looked over at her and nodded, "Speak to Maura first and your sons. I will be there if you need me." Then he turned and walked back in the direction of the Inn.

*********************************************

Child's post

As Cami retraced her steps to the burrow, she mulled over what Lorien had said. Gamba's behavior had troubled her as far back as the Star. It wasn't that he was always getting into trouble. She could deal with that. What bothered Cami was that the older boy held himself apart and never seemed to trust her. He kept the little ones so close that Cami could barely slip in a hug, or spend an evening together telling stories in front of the hearth. Despite every reassurance she'd offered her sons since their being in the Tombs, it was almost as if Gamba was protecting his brothers from someone or something, and that he regarded his mother as part of the problem.

With anguished thoughts, she approached the spot where Maura sat with Frodo Baggins. The two men were enjoying a shared flagon of ale and discussing the wedding ceremony and party that was to begin later that day. Cami greeted the two hobbits, placing her hand on top of Maura's.

"We need to talk. Lorien's spoken with me. It's something we need to get settled, or at least think about, before the ceremony this afternoon."

As Frodo heard Cami's words and stood up to leave, she reached over and shook her head, "No. Frodo, please stay. This is about Gamba. I've seen you speak with the boy and watch him care for his younger brothers. And I know Maura's talked to you about this before. We need all the help we can get."

For the next half hour, as the sun crept higher in the sky, Cami spilled out the words that Lorien had told her. When she had finished, she stared intently at Maura, tears spilling down her cheeks, "My whole life has been spent caring for other people's children, as a nursemaid and teacher. There were so many things I couldn't do well. I used to look at Piosenniel and wish that I could be more like her. But, with children, it was always different. They would throw their arms about me and bury their faces in my shoulder, and share their secrets with me. Yet, now, with my own sons, the people I want to help more than any others, I can't even understand them."

Maura looked at Cami's face which was shot through with despair, and then spoke quietly. "Ever since we first arrived, I knew this was troubling you. Once, early on, you began to open up. But, since then, you've kept it inside, and I was afraid to push."

Cami averted her eyes and stubbornly stared at the ground. "I felt it wasn't fair to saddle you with problems that you didn't create. Anyways, what can we do when I don't even know if we'll be together once we leave the Inn?"

"No, Cami. Whether I'm there. Whether I'm not there. You are my wife. And what we decide here, in the little time we have together will set a course for both of us in the days ahead. And until I draw my last breath, I will never stop trying to return to you."

It was Frodo who quietly interrupted. "To be truthful, I've seen how Gamba shields his brothers. And I've noticed he's more comfortable with older male figures like Maura or even Mithadan than with you who are his own mother. I don't know why that's so. Have you ever tried talking to Gamba about it? If not about his feelings, then his behavior."

Cami shook her head, "No, I was afraid. Afraid that if I laid down the law, Gamba would take the boys and disappear." She hesitated and then continued, "Frodo, I don't understand him. After everything I've done. After all I've given. Why does he still see me like this? "

"Cami, it's not you. It's nothing you've done or haven't done. It's something inside the boy. Something that happened in the Tombs before you even met him."

Maura looked up, "Every night, he sings Lindo's ancient lay about Maura to his brothers. I felt strange even hearing that. But, once he accepted I was actually that Maura, he began to warm up a little. I even tried to get him to talk about his past and his family, and the girl he lost. But he won't. In fact, I think he's hidden the truth from himself. It's almost as if there's a curtain hanging down, and he won't or can't go behind it."

"But other children I've worked with weren't like that," Cami objected. "Even Holly. And Maura has said her own parents were killed in some horrible way in front of her eyes." Cami glanced down at the girl playing quietly beside the pond.

Frodo shook his head. "Each person is different. But remember this. For years on end, the hobbits in the Tombs lived under the physical presence of Morgoth. Every act, every breath they took, was carried out under a terrible shadow. Gamba and Ban and the other children who'd been orphaned couldn't deal with that. With so much evil near them, it's easy to lose track of what's right."

"Gamba is hurting. He was broken into a thousand pieces. If anyone understands how that can happen, it's me. He will have to learn to live with that. It's not easy for him, or you. And, even if things get better, it's never going to be the same as if Gamba had grown up in the Shire, with the kind of support and caring you're used to."

"But we can't just give up. We can do something," Maura insisted. "At the ceremony today, we can bring the boys in under the mantle that will unite us as one family. Let them know that I regard and love them as my sons. And, without raising our voices or threatening, quietly tell them that they will be asked to change their behavior in certain ways. And that has to hold true whether I'm physically present, or not."

"Cami, I will not accept our sons staying out in the forest every night under separate cover, especially the little ones. No matter how fiercely Gamba loves his brothers, that has to change. He is their loving big brother, but he is not their parent. You are their mother with responsibility for feeding and defending them. He is there to help you. And you must quietly insist on that respect."

"Any other arrangement is wrong, just plain wrong. It goes against everything that I know to be good, the decency and love of family that Eru built into the hearts of hobbits. I've spent my whole life as a Loremaster studying the ancient tales, and I can not turn my back on those basic truths."

"The saddest thing to me is that, by his possessiveness, Gamba is recreating a little piece of the shadow in Greenwood. He runs the risk of becoming the very thing he fears and hates."

Maura glanced over towards Cami, "These boys will never be the happy children from the Shire you would like them to be. Sometimes, you're going to have to look for ways to bend. If Gamba is uncomfortable in a burrow, then build a different kind of house, above ground. Something with an outside porch attached so the boys can lay down and still see the stars. But, however you have to do it, keep them under one roof."

"This would be so much easier if I knew you'd be with me," Cami pleaded. "I'm not sure I can do this by myself."

Maura smiled at his wife, tenderly draping his arm about her shoulders, "Little Andreth, I believe in you, your spirit and your heart. I believe that, if you try, if you stop being so afraid of hurting Gamba's feelings, you can begin to help him heal. Act like a mother. Let him decide whether he has the inner strenth to accept you in that role. But you must quietly insist, again and again."

Frodo spoke up shyly, "Anyways, you've got the best example in all of Arda to model yourself on. Watch how Sam and Rosie handle their children. They are strict but caring, and stay as calm and firm as a rock. Talk with your sons this afternoon. Let them know you love them. Don't demand they change what they feel in their hearts. No one can do that. But let them know you've talked, and as Maura's sons, they will be asked to change their conduct in certain ways so you can draw closer together as a family."

"But what if my fears are true? What if they cannot accept those limitations and choose to leave?"

Frodo shook his head, "I don't believe that will happen. Despite all his fears and thoughtlessness, Gamba still cares for you."

But what if it does happen?" Cami pressed, her voice laced with apprehension.

Frodo responded in a somber tone, "This is how I feel. These words may sound harsh, but it's the only way. If Gamba can't bring himself to be part of a family, with all its give and take, you're better off granting him freedom and letting him go. His brothers too if they feel that way. Gamba has to understand that you're not a jailer, and he is free to depart if he really feels that is best. But, while he lives with you, there are certain rules to follow with real consequences."

"There's something else." Maura held Cami in his gaze. "It's not just Gamba who's going to be staying closer to home. Cami, I've never told you this because I didn't want to worry you. But Holly's parents were killed by Orcs. At the beginning when she came to us, I read her mind. Something is happening in Greenwood. I don't know what. But a shadow is beginning to extend its fingers over the forest glades."

"Orcs? Greenwood?" Cami froze, as a half-forgotten tale hidden under the veil of time came up and tugged at her heart. "My people know nothing of battling Orcs. They've never even seen an Orc."

"I know. I've spoken with Bilbo about it. If there were some way I could come with you.... Sad to say, I know something of Orcs and their ways." An image of his mother and sister lying mortally wounded in the hills outside Gondolin formed in Maura's mind. How ironic. He'd spent his entire life studying lore and trying to avoid the physical battle that had raged around him. Now, whatever worth he might have in Greenwood stemmed not from his book learning, but from his experience on the field of battle.

"Cami, your sons and all the other children in that settlement are in danger. Having Gamba sleep under your roof is not just a question of showing respect. It will soon become a matter of life and death. Neither you or Gamba will have much choice in this. So what we say to the boys today carries a heavy meaning."

With that somber message, they slowly walked back with Frodo towards the Inn.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

8 Cermië

Pio's post

The party was not to begin until late afternoon, but Amaranthas had insisted they go several hours earlier to see that all was in order. ‘Miz Rose is in no condition to be seeing to all this.’ She gave Pio a meaningful stare. ‘You remember how tired and uncomfortable you were at your late stage. Imagine poor Rose who has to oversee all those other children, and run her house, too.’ Pio nodded her head yes, sympathizing fully.

Gilly had gotten the twins all set along with a large basket of all they might need while they were there. ‘We are not moving in, you know,’ chided Pio playfully, looking at the bulging basket. But her comment was met with a hmmph! and roll of the eyes from Gilly, implying that Miz Pio had no idea how necessary each of the items in the basket was. ‘All I am saying Gilly is than the supply basket is four times larger that the babies in their basket, and we are only going across the road to Sam’s house!’

Handing Pio the dress she had brought from the Inn for her, Gilly said nothing. She picked up the basket with the twins with one hand, and the basket of ‘necessaries’ in the other and went out the door, saying she would see Mistress Piosenniel in the cart.

Pio stripped off her comfortable clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile at the foot of the bed. She shrugged on the sea-green dress with the flowing sleeves and smoothed out the wrinkles with her hands. She tsk’d! at the silvered fillet that Gilly had found thrown into the trunk with the weapons and insisted that she wear to this ‘occasion’.

Her hair had grown out in this past year, and it fell in thick, dark waves to her waist. She pulled two twists of it back from her temples and bound them at the nape of her neck to keep her hair from falling into her face. Large grey eyes loomed out from a pale face as she regarded herself in the looking glass that hung above the wash stand in her room. Picking up the fillet she placed it on her brow, securing the ends in her pulled back hair. Gilly had also found a necklace for her to wear, and Pio smiled as she pulled it from its small velvet pouch. A small sea-star shell on a finely wrought silver chain. A gift from Mithadan when he came to the Shire.

She clasped it round her neck, and put her hand over it, wishing that he were there with her.

We are going to Cami’s wedding. I will wish her well for you. Take care, beloved.

Her left hand twisted the slender gold band on her right index finger for a moment, wondering what he had found out.

Pio tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, and slipped her shoes on. As an afterthought, she strapped one of her short knives to her calf. Then she was out the door, her jar of flowers for Cami in her hands . . .

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Child's post

Frodo said his farewells to Maura and Cami on the doorstep of the Dragon, promising that he and Bilbo would see them later that afternoon. Then, the couple detoured around to the rear of the Inn, hoping to inquire if Gilly or Cook had recently seen the boys. They found the two hobbits hard at work in the back alley. They were stacking a series of steaming plates and dishes and platters onto a cart parked just outside the gate. Ruby climbed up into the wagon and, after a quick nod to Cami, flicked the reins over the pony's rear to urge him forward. In an instant the cart trundled noisily off and disappeared.

Cook spun about and crooked one finger under Cami's nose. "Whatever are you doing?" She cast a hasty glance at Maura, pretending he wasn't there, since many Shire residents consider it an omen of ill fortune for the groom to see the bride on the wedding day before the exchange of vows. Cook pulled Cami aside and whispered pointedly in her ear, "What's he doing? Why aren't you dressed yet? If you don't get ready, they'll have your wedding without you."

Cook finally raised her voice so even Maura could hear, "Anyways, it's a good thing you've dropped by. Your party dress is upstairs in Pio's cupboard. She told me to let you in whenever you came by."

Cami replied calmly, "I haven't had time to get ready yet. We have some family business to untangle."

"Family business? What might that be? Surely it can wait till after the wedding."

Cook fixed a keen eye on Cami, but the bride-to-be remained stubbornly silent, staring down at her toes and offering the simplest of explanations, "I promise to get dressed as soon as we've spoken with our sons. Just tell me where they are, and all this will go quickly."

Cook started a bit at Cami's mention of "our sons". It was the first time she'd heard the hobbit refer to her boys that way. "Gamba? That scamp and his brothers? I believe they're helping Hob curry and feed the horses. They were here a little while ago. Those no-goods stole every last carrot out of my pantry."

Cami smiled slightly at Cook's indignant words. However thoughtless or possessive Gamba was, the lad had a soft heart for animals and any other creature in need who happened across his path. Cami thanked Cook and was about to leave, when she caught a glimpse of Gilly bustling through the door.

"Gilly, wait." Cami beckoned to Pio's nursemaid. "I have something for Piosenniel. It's a gift."

"More booties, Miz Cami?" Gilly queried, since Cami had become quite famous for the prodigious number of booties she had knitted.

"Not this time." She handed Gilly a square quilt block elaborately embroidered with colorful yarn that depicted the Elf with her babies at the front door of Bag-end. "Could you put this on the table with the other presents for the twins? I'm afraid I'll be late arriving. Pio will know who it's from and what it's for."

Gilly nodded absentmindedly and stuffed the handiwork deep inside her pocket, as Cami and Maura walked off together in the direction of the stables.

*********************************************

Cami tightened her grip on Maura's hand as she approached the courtyard where the boys were helping feed and curry the horses. Even from down the pathway, she could hear the excited giggles of Ban and little Maura as they drew up buckets of water from the well.

"You're sure this is right for us?" Cami murmured to Maura.

"Very sure. My father once taught me 'The task that takes the longest is the one you never start.'"

Cami smiled. Some things never changed with hobbits.

Then, Maura gently embraced his wife and held her close to him. "Just stay calm and say what's in your heart. We don't know what will come of this. But, unless we try to pass on what we believe in, we will have failed as parents, even if we give the boys a home."

With this, they pushed open the gate to the courtyard, and went inside. Asta came darting up to Maura to share a treasured stone he'd found by the river. Ban climbed up on his mother's knee for a tickle and a hug. Maura gave a respectful nod to Gamba, then called the boys together to sit and talk.

"It's about the wedding, isn't it?" Roka piped up. You and Maura are getting married today. And we all get to go to a party."

Cami nodded her head and smiled, "Yes, we've talked about this before. Maura and I have already made promises to each other in front of Eru. Now we want to share those with you and our friends."

"But it's not just Maura and I. It's you too. We want to be a family. One family." Cami looked around the circle. "Myself and Maura, Gamba, Asta, Roka, Ban, Little Maura, Holly and Rose as well as our other little one who's on the way. You mean more to us than anything in the world."

Maura looked at the boys and tried to explain in simple words. "I hope that I will be able to come to you in Greenwood."

"Will you come for sure? Gamba countered.

Maura looked him straight in the face, "I will not lie to you. I do not know what is possible. But we have hope. And I will not stop trying."

"But, whether or not I'm there, you are my sons and I'm proud of you. This afternoon, in the ceremony at Bag-end, I would like us to make some promises to try and treat each other with respect and love. Your mother and I have spoken about our hopes for our family. Sometime, in Greenwood, she or I may ask you to do some things differently because we believe it will help us grow as a family. That won't always be easy, not for you or for us."

"But today, we just have to make a promise that we will try to love and care for each other, and work through the good times and the bad."

"How about it boys?"

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

8 Cermië - afternoon of Party Day

Pio's post

Bag End was in a festive mood. Sam answered the door with a smile and a bow when they arrived and they were ushered in through the front hall and directly into the kitchen. Miz Rose, seated on a padded chair was directing the activities. The counters and the large table in the center of the room had all been cleared of ‘family things’ as little Rosie explained, taking hold of Pio’s hand and leading her up to the long counter that ran the south side of the kitchen. ‘This is my favorite now,’ she whispered to the Elf, as she eyed the twenty pies, the cloth covered baskets of cookies, and the dishes of fresh, ripe fruits that stood along it.

Pio glanced along the row, thinking that she might have to skip the main courses and go straight to dessert. Her finger was just reaching out to touch a drop of blackberry juice that had bubbled out the side of the crust and stood waiting to be tasted on the side of the pie dish, when she heard a distinctive clearing of the throat and the sound of someone moving up behind her. ‘I wouldn’t touch that pie if I were you, Miz Pio,’ came the distinct tones of Cook. ‘You’ve a notorious way with pies and I don’t have time to bake another one!’ Pio’s eyes narrowed and she was just about to retort when she saw that Cook was laughing at her. ‘Well, I guess I will never live that one down, will I?’

Gilly had come up to survey the bounty, and turned with a perplexed look on her face. ‘These are all very nice, Cook.’ She motioned her closer, her voice down to a whisper lest Cami be nearby. ‘But the wedding cake? Where is it?’

Rosie put her fingers to her lips and motioned for Gilly and Pio to follow her. Down the hall a short way and into the cool pantry they went, stopping at a large deep cupboard at the back. Gilly opened the door with a prompting from Rosie and glanced in. ‘Oh my!’ was her response, and Pio, curious, pushed her slightly out of the way and looked in. She turned with a frown on her face. ‘What an odd custom!’ she said, turning round to take another look at the contents. ‘Hobbits eat large biscuits as wedding cake?’

Rosie and Gilly stared at one another then broke into giggles. Pio shrugged her shoulders and stared back at them, not catching the joke at all. It was Cook, who had followed along behind the group, who straightened out the confusion.

‘It is a biscuit of sorts,’ she explained, ‘or a number of large, fluffy, sugary ones. We’ll split them when the time comes and fill them with these plump, sweet strawberries sliced thick and sugared just a bit to bring out their juices.’ She pointed to the three large bowls of strawberries just picked in the Inn’s garden that very morning. ‘We’ll stack the layers high, and crown the top with thick sweet whipped cream that’s cooling right now in the springhouse. A few whole berries on top for decoration, and it will be fit for a queen!’

Pio’s eyes had grown wide at the description of the dessert, and her mind had definitely been made up to head straight to the dessert table as soon as she could. Cook, as if reading her mind, reminded her that the shortcake would be served after the vows, and was not to be tasted beforehand. Pio feigned an expression of injured dignity, then broke into a grin. ‘Ah, Cook, you know me too well!’

Once they exited the pantry, Cook went back to the kitchen and followed to help her. Elanor had by then come up, and she took the basket with the babies in it, walking with Rosie and Pio out to the west side of the large burrow, where the gardens were.

The grounds were decorated beautifully. Bright colored streamers flew from the branches of the trees, and there were a myriad of small lanterns hung between the trees themselves, to be lit later when darkness had come.

There were gleaming white cloths draping the tables set round the greensward, and on them had been set the pots of wood sorrel and primroses. Pio smiled when she saw them, her breath catching in her throat at the gentle kindness of her friend. The larger table, where the food would be set out, held the arrangement of white hawthorn that stood for hope. And there at the side of the house was the trellis with its white and red roses, where Amaranthas was directing Sam and Frodo-lad on how she wanted the ivy intertwined among them.

Pio’s own vase of flowers she still held carefully in her hands. It was a large, wild and random assortment, unlike the prettily composed ones that Cami and Miz Rose had made. She had listened well as Amaranthas guided her through the flower garden that morning and had put together her own message for her friend.

There were long branches from the hazel, their soft yellow flowers signaling peace. Mugwort for happiness and lily of the valley for return of happiness blended happily with sprigs of fennel for strength. Buttercups marked cheerfulness and sweet smelling honeysuckle the bonds of love. A single, leafed blackthorn wand stood for difficulty, wrapped round with wallflowers for ‘faithfulness in adversity’, while the broad leaves of the chestnut at its base said ‘do me justice’. Sprigs of holly were tucked here and there, a defense against shadow, as were sprigs of mistletoe saying ‘I rise above all’. And here and there were nestled ivy leaves for friendship, and near them the tiny blue flowers of forget-me-nots. It was a motley assortment when looked at with a critical eye, but Pio had gathered the flowers and leaves carefully, putting them in a large crockery jar from the Inn, the sort that held a pint of ale. And round the middle of it she tied a thin leather thong, wrapping it tightly about the jar several times, from which hung a single silver star.

She set the arrangement back out of the way, in the shadow of a tree that overhung one of the tables. Rosie and Elanor wondered at the odd looking bunch of flowers, but said nothing, thinking it was some Elven custom.

In a short span of time, the final preparations were done and Miz Rose pronounced that all was in readiness for the party. She and Pio went out to the lawn and sat in the shade of the tall trees on comfortable chairs, glasses of cool tea in their hands. Miz Rose made much of the babies, as did Rosie and Elanor, while young Merry and Pippin entertained Goldilocks and little Hamfast with a game of catch the beetle.

Frodo-lad crept quietly up to where his mother and the Elf were sitting and sat down between them on the grass, hoping that Pio might look his way.

All too soon, the guests began to arrive . . .

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Himaran's post:

Frodo-lad crept quietly up to where his mother and the Elf were sitting and sat down between them on the grass, hoping that Pio might look his way. Unfortunately, it was Rose that saw him first. "Frodo-lad, why can't you just run along and play? Miss Pio is very busy, and I'm sure you can talk to her later."

The kind elf, however, upon turning and seeing the hobbit boy, merely smiled and patted her knee. Happily, Frodo-lad scrambled up onto it, a wide grin from ear to ear plastered on his small face. "Now, good hobbit, what can I do for you?"

After thinking hard, Frodo-lad decided to take full advantage of the elf's open question. "Miss Pio, could you tell me one of those old stories. The ones with elves, and dragons, and orcs?"

Pio’s post:

Pio smiled, and tousled the Hobbit’s thick head of brown curls. She handed the twins, one each to Elanor and Rosie, who sat by her side, then drew Frodo-lad closer on her lap.

‘An old story, eh?’ She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her eyes growing dark with memories. Her voice dropped low as she spoke.

‘There once was a great city of the Eldar in the First Age of this world. City of the Seven Names, it was called by others. But to we who loved it, it was Ondolindë, the Rock of the Music of Water.

Blessed by the Vala Ulmo and guarded by the fierce Eagles of the Encircling Mountains who protected it from the spies of Morgoth, it lay hidden in the valley of Tumladen in Beleriand. It was said that the beauty of this Elven city rivaled that of Tírion in Eldamar, in the West, far over the Great Sea.

Turgon was its King, and it was he whom Ulmo directed to prepare a secret kingdom hidden in Tumladen. Turgon was one of the Noldor, and as such he fell under their Doom . . .’

Frodo-lad’s eyes had gone wide at this talk of the secret kingdoms, the Eldar, and a Doom laid on them. Elanor and Rosie had scooted in nearer to the side of Pio’s chair, leaning in closer, so as not to miss a word.

‘She talks like she was there,’ whispered Rosie to her sister. ‘Hush, Rosie. Let her go on,’ returned Elanor. Frodo-lad said nothing, his eyes on Pio’s face, he nodded, urging her to continue.

Pio drew a picture with her words of the city and its surrounds. The Encircling Mountains, the Eagle’s aerie, the Hidden Way with its seven gates, the beauty of the city of white stone as it stood on Amon Gwareth in the center of the valley came to life before their eyes. And most of all she drew for them the beauty of the great fountains whose waters sang for them as they ran over the rocks, and which protected the city as their waters fell over the sides of the hill, making the ascent slippery as glass.

She spoke of the evil of Morgoth and how he found the hidden city. And how he sent his troops to overwhelm it. ‘There were Orcs, thousands of Orcs,’ she told them, ‘and Balrogs with their whips of flame, which drove them on.’ She looked closely at each Hobbit child, her head nodding. ‘And there were Dragons,’ she said speaking more quietly than before, ‘great dragons, and we could not stand against this Shadowed host.’

Pio stopped for a moment , taking a sip of her cool tea to refresh her throat, gone dry from speaking and from the sadness of those days. Finished she set the glass down and went on.

She spoke of the great battle the Elves put up against the forces of Morgoth, and how the great champion, Ecthelion, the captain of Gondolin and warden of the Gate, slew Gothmog, the Lord of the Balrogs even as he was slain in this fight. ‘King Turgon, too, was slain,’ she told them, ‘as he defended his Tower. He was the last of the House of Finwë to rule in Middle-earth.’

And she spoke of the Lady Idril, the King’s daughter, and her husband, Tuor, a Man. And how Idril had made a Secret Way of escape and they brought a small number of the Elves of Gondolin to safety just at the last as the city fell. And she spoke with great fondness of their son, Eärendil, who was only a small boy when all this happened.

‘Younger than you three,’ she said. ‘About the age of Merry-lad and little Pippin.’

‘And did they all get to safety?’ asked Rosie. ‘Where did they go?’ Elanor looked at her, her brow wrinkling in thought. ‘Eärendil? That’s the name of the evening star, isn’t it?’ Frodo-lad sat quietly taking in all he had heard, having gotten all he had asked for and more.

‘That’s such a sad story, Miz Pio,’ said Rosie, patting the Elf’s knee as she rocked the little boy carefully.

Pio shook off the feelings that had come up with the telling of this story, and grinned at the three children. ‘But you know, that was a very old tale, and now it is over and done with. And here we are on this bright sunny day in the Shire.’ She poked Frodo-lad playfully in his ribs, causing him to loose his serious and dignified look as he giggled.

‘You turn,’ she laughed, challenging him with an impish look. ‘Now you tell me a story. Something that happened in your life, my dear Hobbit. Something fun!’

‘Go on!’ urged Rosie, ‘tell her . . .’

Himaran's post:

For a moment, Frodo-lad was in pure shock. Had Miss Pio actually asked him to tell her a story?" His disbelief soon turned into fear. What story would he tell? Suppose she didn't like the story?

Frodo-lad was terrified at the thought of his idol not being pleased with something he did. But, encouraged by his siblings, he knew he would at least have to try. "Why, sure Miss Pio! I'll tell you a story. What sort of one do you want to hear?"

"Well, how about a short little story about hobbits. You know, a fun and humorous one, and peaceful at that. Something that will make us all laugh."
The little hobbit thought hard, and soon remembered a hilarious event that his father had told the family over dinner one night. "Alright, here's my story."

"You see, my dad used to be Mr. Frodo's gardener. He would always cut down the grass in the yard and right next to the wall. One day, when Mr. Frodo was gone, dad was working in the garden, and saw that he'd left something inside that he needed.

Now Mr. Frodo had given him the key to Bag End. And when dad went over to the door, he couldn't find the key in his pants. He had left it inside the hole.

Then Dad went over to one of the windows, and tried to crawl through. But halfway in, he got stuck. His arms and legs were still outside, but the other part of him was inside. He started kicking and squirming, and shouting too. But his head was inside Bag End, and so no one heard him.

Then his Gaffer, my Grandad, saw him from the road. He thought that it was a burglar, because all he could see was Dad's legs. So he took his stick and gave Dad a good beating in the backside before he realized whom it was he was smacking."

Pio's post

Frodo was quite enjoying his telling of the family tale, and he was pleased the Pio thought it so funny. She laughed at the picture he drew of Sam caught in the window, and the Gaffer’s sound thwacking of him. Rosie’s mouth, however, had formed into a little ‘O’ of surprise, and she looked guiltily up at him, then pointed to a place over his shoulder. Frodo turned, a look of surprise coming over his face as he saw who now stood behind him.

Sam stood there, shaking his head, a look of mock sternness on his face.

Pio laughed again, and put her arm round Frodo-lad. ‘Did you know your son had such a knack for making history come alive, Sam?’ Sam, all hope of looking disapproving gone now, agreed that his son had indeed inherited the ability to make old tales seem fresh and new, and ‘humorous’, he added, giving a wink to Frodo-lad.

Miz Rose had come up to where they were standing, and Sam brought a chair close for her, assisting her to sit down. Her eyes twinkled as Sam recounted the story Frodo-lad had been sharing. ‘So, Miz Pio has now seen another side of you, so to speak!’ she said grinning mischievously up at him.

Sam took his leave of them, saying he needed to attend to a few details before the ceremony began. Miz Rose watched his retreating figure fondly, then turned her attention to Frodo-lad and the two girls. ‘Let me have some quiet company here with Miz Pio before the party is in full swing, won’t you children?’ They nodded their heads ‘yes’ at her, all three standing up to go. ‘Perhaps you three can see to the other children that some of out guests have brought. Get a game going of some sort if you would.’

Rosie looked up with an impish grin. ‘Tag!’ she cried – let’s go out on the front lawn and play it!’ She ran off quickly, her older siblings running along behind her.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Gamba came bounding up the path and pounded noisily on the door, "Mother, hurry! We're late. Father says you'd better come. He's waiting by the main road."

"Just a minute," Cami shrieked back. "Holly fell into the pond. Thank goodness, she swims like a fish. But she needs to change her clothes."

Cami hastily pulled the door open and beckoned Gamba to come inside, shoving a towel into his hands. "Here. Could you dry your sister off while I get her another frock?"

"What did Maura tell you after I left? After we all agreed to try and stick together as a family?" Cami prodded Gamba, as she ran to the back of the burrow, rummaging through a small wooden chest and pulling out a stack of dry clothing.

"Oh, not much," laughed Gamba, scrubbing vigorously at his sister's mop of wet brown curls. "He said we had to walk together to Bag-end as if we were a real family. And we all had to behave during the ceremony and act polite."

"And after the ceremony is over?"

Gamba grinned, "He said we could run wild and hang by our toes from the rafters."

"He really said that?"

Gamba grinned victoriously ear-to-ear. "Sort of. He said we'd need to let off some steam, and we'd better do it in the side garden where we wouldn't bother other folks too much."

"That rascal of a husband," Cami muttered under her breath, as she slipped a clean dress over Holly's head. Then the three hobbits set out quickly down the roadway to join up with the others.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Pio's post


Sam’s boys, Merry and little Pippin scurried into the parlour and commandeered the footstool from its place in front of highbacked chair. Intent on getting it wrangled safely down the long hall, they did not see their Father come out of the kitchen door as they passed by.

‘Here! What’s this!’ he cried with mock ferocity. ‘Does your Mother know you’ve hijacked a piece of furniture from her parlour?’ The two bandits plunked down the stool on the hardwood floor and turned to face him, their faces red from the exertion of trying to manage the unwieldy cargo. Little Pip put his hand on his hips and stared up exasperated at his Father.

‘Now look what you’ve done, Papa! We almost had it to the door!’

Merry-lad stepped forward, shushing his brother. ‘Mother asked us to fetch it, Papa. Mistress Piosenniel’s leg is hurting, and we’re bringing it for her to put it up on.’

‘Well, then,’ said Sam, smiling at his sons, ‘let me be of some service to you.’ He picked up the footstool, nodding to the boys to go ahead of him. ‘Open the doors for me, lads, and lead me out to where Miz Pio is sitting. We’ll get her fixed up soon enough.’ Merry ran ahead to hold the door, while little Pip took hold of his Father’s pant leg and guided him along.

Pio sat in the shade of the sugar maple tree, the babies near her in their basket on a low, sturdy table. There were a number of guests who stood round her, talking softly while the babies slept. It was women, mostly, their men having drifted away to congregate around the casks from the Green Dragon and talk of crops and smoke a pipeful with their peers.

One of the babies had begun to fuss, and several hands darted forth to pick up the little girl and see to her. ‘Peony, you’ve had a turn already, let me hold that baby for a minute!’ A deft pair of hands scooped the tiny bundle from the other Hobbits arms to coo and fuss over her.

‘Would you mind if my wife held the boy, Miz Pio?’ The Elf looked up startled, a slow smile spreading on her face. ‘Halfred Whitfoot! It is so nice to see you here, away from “official” business.’ Halfred reddened a bit and brought his wife forward. ‘Mistress Piosenniel, I would like to introduce my wife to you – Millefoil.’ There was such an obvious affection in the man’s eyes that Pio’s own heart melted toward him. ‘Very pleased to meet the goodwife behind the Shiriff, Miz Millefoil!’ Pio and Millefoil chatted amiably for a few moments, and then the boy began to stir. Millefoil picked him up and held him near. ‘Isn’t he just the darling, Halfred?’ she asked holding the baby out to the Shiriff. ‘He must look just like his Daddy. What a handsome little man.’

Halfred’s brows went up at the mention of Mithadan. ‘Where is he, by the way, Miz Pio?’ he asked, looking about the yard. ‘Not still sick is he?’

‘Mithadan has gone away, on some business, Shiriff. He will be back soon, I think.’

Halfred’s mouth opened to ask another question, but by then the babies had begun to cry, and Pio took them both in her arms. ‘If you good folk will excuse me, I will take the little ones in and get them fed and changed.’ She smiled sweetly at the Shiriff and his wife, and called out over her shoulder as she made for the house. ‘The flowers were lovely Shiriff. Thank you!’

‘Now isn’t she just the sweetest thing, Halfred. And what an attentive mother.’ Her eyes followed the retreating Elf with some wistfulness. ‘Our youngest girl is two now, Halfred. Don’t you think it’s time we had another baby in the house?’ Halfred patted her hand, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Best we discuss that at home, dear. Oh look,’ he said, directing her attention to where his brother and his wife stood, ‘let’s go over and see Filibert and Hyacinth.’

Millefoil prattled on about this and that as they walked to where the other couple stood. Halfred, his hand on her elbow, put in the occasion ‘uh hum’ and ‘yes, dear’, but his head was turned to catch the figure of the Elf as she entered Bag End, his brow furrowed in thought. ‘Away on business, is he?’ he thought to himself. ‘And what sort of Big Folk business might that be, I wonder?’

*+*+*+*+*

Halfred left Millefoil in the company of Hyacinth, the two ladies talking warmly about new babies, and poking through the presents that had been left on the table for Pio’s twins. Seeing her so well engaged, he drew quietly away, taking his brother Filibert with him.

‘Mithadan apparently is “away on business”, or so the Elf says.’ Halfred spoke in a low voice, as he led his brother well away from any other party goers. ‘She was very vague about the whole thing.’ Halfred looked round the milling party goers and caught the eye of his two deputies, Milo and Hugo. They raised their mugs of ale to him and smiled.

The smiles left their faces as he motioned them over. ‘You two need to make your excuses to the host. I have something I want you to follow up on.’ Milo and Hugo drained their drinks and listened as Halfred detailed what he wanted them to do and where he wanted them to go. They nodded their heads and setting their now empty mugs on a nearby table made their way to garden gate, pausing only to speak briefly with Sam as they left.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Child's post

By the time Cami and Maura arrived at the party, with six children in tow, the festivities were well under way. As they came up the walkway towards Bag-end, Cami could hear a recorder and fiddle playing, and a number of guests all chattering away. The lovely lanterns and flowers, the tables with their generous platters of food, the friends and neighbors gathered around--all took Cami's breath away.

She whispered her goodbyes to Maura and Gamba, explaining that she'd see them again once the ceremony started. Then, she made a quick tour of the party room and gardens, stopping to greet Zira and Ban and several other friends.

Out of all the lovely floral arrangements that had been set out, there was one that instantly took her eye. A wild thing hidden towards the back of the garden with a crazy assortment of flowers. Hazel, mugwort, chestnuts, and forget-me-nots, a sprig of ivy and a lone blackthorne wand, all tied together with a leather thong from which hung a single silver star.

How appropriate, Cami smiled. Just like her friend. So good hearted and adventurous. Perhaps just a shade too adventurous!

When Cami approached Frodo and asked him where Pio was hiding, he had nodded towards the rear of the house and briefly explained she had taken the twins there to settle them down. Cami deftly undid the latch and slipped through the door to the back hallway, hoping to surprise her friend by thanking her for the striking arrangement of flowers and letting her know that it was time for the ceremony to begin....

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Pio's post

She heard the steps come hurriedly down the long hall, pausing it seemed to look in each room, then hurry nearer. The twins had been fed, and changed, and now lay in their basket at her feet. As far as she knew, she and the babies were alone in the house while everyone else was out in the gardens waiting for the ceremony to begin.

The hair at the nape of her neck prickled as the steps grew nearer, stopping and starting at each of the entryways. Drawing the knife from the sheath on her leg, Pio moved the basket of sleeping babies behind the sofa in the parlour, draping a thin blanket over it to shield the light from the nearby window. Without a sound she moved to the side of the entry into the room and waited.

It was not a long wait. The sounds drew near and then stopped, just outside the door. She could hear them retreat across the hall, and then return, coming closer to the parlour. The door was only slightly ajar, and she watched as a hand reached in to shove at the handle.

As soon she saw the wrist, her free hand snaked out in a rapid motion, closing round it with a steely grip. Pio hauled the intruder in quickly in a single motion throwing them against the wall, blade to throat.

‘Don’t kill me before my wedding!’

The squeaky whispered plea brought the Elf back to a shocked reality as she looked down into Cami’s face, all color drained from it. The knife clattered to the floor, and Pio stepped back. Cami rubbed her wrist and felt carefully along the side of her neck for any bleeding cuts.

‘It’s me, you knife happy ninny! I’ve only come to tell you we are about to begin,’ she rasped out, her throat gone quite dry from fear. ‘What in Arda were you thinking?’

Pio took a deep breath, shaking off the tension of the moment. ‘I am truly sorry, Cami,’ she said, taking her friend’s hand and leading her to the sofa. Pio brought the babies from behind it and sat their basket at her feet. Urging Cami to sit down near her, she took her hand, apologizing once again.

‘It was a dark dream I had yesterday that has set me on edge. Full of shadows and feelings of emptiness and despair.’ Pio looked out the window, the soft light of a pleasant Shire evening belying the uneasiness niggling at the corners of her mind. ‘My arms were achingly empty. The shadows had drawn near and I drew my sword against them. But the blade cut through them without effect, and I could not find what I sought.’

Pio’s hand strayed to the basket, gently touching her son and daughter. ‘And now the Shiriff has come, wondering where Mithadan has gone, bringing up the fear of him and Bird also in danger from both sides – the ruffians and the law.’ She leaned against the back of the sofa, her hand straying to the back of her neck, rubbing at it. ‘It is strange, is it not. One entangles, entwines ones’ life with another – either by choice, as with Mithadan,’ she dropped her hand down to take Cami’s once more, ‘and as with you, in friendship - or by chance, as with my children. And one is quite undone. Pushed to consider things in a wider cast, if hazier, light. Unable to make those decisions that would have come so easily before.’

The sounds of Sam’s children came streaming by the window – a raucous game of tag was underway and little Pippin was chastising his older siblings for running so fast. ‘No fair!’ came his indignant cry. Goldie and I will never catch up to you!’ There was laughter, and a swirl of good-natured comments as Elanor, Rosie, and Frodo-lad swarmed about the younger group, just barely in reach of Goldie’s hand. She reached out giggling and slapped Rosie on the leg. The gathering broke up as swiftly as it had come together, their cries of delight flowing away from the window.

Pio laughed, her dark mood slipping away for the moment. ‘Ah! What am I thinking! This is your day, Cami Goodchild. Excuse my dark meanderings . . . and my all too ready blade!’ She looked closely at her friend. ‘Everything will turn out as it should - at least for this day, I think. I will witness you and Maura and your family as you join your courses. We will eat and drink and toast your good fortune as we may.’

We will be safe for a space of time among this good company.

She leaned in close and taking Cami’s face in her hands, kissed her three times on the brow.

‘From me,’ she said, ‘and Mithadan and Bird who are with you in their thoughts.’ She leaned back, studying the features of her friend’s face. ‘Would that They grant you their grace, Cami. You and Maura and all your family.’

The basket with the babies gripped firmly in her hand, Pio rose from the sofa. She could hear the small band of musicians recruited from the area tuning up in readiness to play a little music for the dancing that would come after the vows were said and witnessed. Laughing she reached down and swatted Cami lightly on the arm.

‘Tag! You are it!’

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Mithadan's post

8 Cermië

Shortly after midnight, Stoatie unlocked the door to the Hut. Mithadan rose and walked out, only to be halted by the bandit as he entered the bleak courtyard. Ferny and two others were mounted on horses already and looked down upon him with feral smiles. "You'll be riding with us, Mithadan," said Ferny. "We will halt in Bree for a bit before moving on to the ratland of The Shire. That one is yours." He motioned to a horse browsing a patch of grass nearby.

"Yer sword, Mithy," said Stoat with a grin. He held out his hands. "Not that we don't trust yer or nothing. Just bein' careful 'til we gets ter know yer better." Mithadan unbuckled his scabbard without expression and passed it over to the bandit. Then he mounted and the party trotted off into the night...

They reached The Prancing Pony at daybreak and entered the common room for some breakfast. Mithadan noted the dark glare which the innkeeper shot at Ferny, but looked down at the floor lest his inopportune smile be seen by his companions. It seemed that the Breelanders were none too fond of his "boss".

Ferny ordered eggs, bacon and milk for the party. Mithadan was gnawing on a hard roll when a familiar figure entered the room. Rose! She took a seat at a nearby table after glancing quickly over at him and ordered some breakfast herself. Mithadan waited for several minutes until the room became a bit more crowded. Then he reached for an apple. Drawing a knife from his belt, he began cutting slices from the fruit as he chatted with Ferny. Then he drew the blade sharply across his fingers. He shot to his feet with a wild curse that made several nearby diners stare at him with shock. Dropping the knife to the table, he shook his hand, sending drops of blood into the air. Ferny and Stoat broke out in loud laughter even as they dodged the red droplets. "Gimme a rag," Mithadan shouted to a serving girl. She passed him a cloth which he looked at and threw to the floor. "A clean one!" he yelled. He stalked over to the bar and seized another cloth. Mithadan turned his back on his table as he wiped his hand. Then he spun around and walked back towards his party.

As he passed Rose, seated with a group of Hobbits, he sneered and dropped the bloody cloth on her plate, bringing cries of outrage from her companions. He ignored them and sat back down to the teasing of his companions.

Rose picked up the cloth and dropped it on her lap. When the commotion died, she unfolded it. The letters were unclear and smudged but the words could be read. Twins. Go. She crumpled the rag, being careful to smudge the letters into oblivion. Then she stood and excused herself so that she could wash her red-stained hands...

[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The men had made rapid progress for the remainder of the day, riding the horses at a hard gallop for long stretches of the Great Eastern Road. They'd made as few stops as possible to catch their breath or take on water. By the time they'd reached the Brandywine, it was only mid-afternoon. Their mounts were hot and lathered and nearly falling in their tracks.

Ferny's henchman was waiting with fresh horses and took them across the River on a make-shift raft. From this point, they headed west through the deserted marshes that bordered on the northern bank of The Water. The thick patches of tall sedge and bracken growing there made slow going but provided ample places for the band to hide, even under the bright rays of the afternoon sun.

Only once did they hear some hobbit voices nearby. They'd stood perfectly still under cover of tall grass with their weapons poised as they waited to see if the voices came any closer. But they'd faded off into the distance, and the men had resumed their westward trek. By the time they actually reached Bywater Pool, the sun was dipping beneath the horizon and grey shadows were creeping over the land.

"I'm hungry," growled Shifty to Boss.

"Stop thinkin' of yer stomach. Ya think there's an Inn 'ere that's gonna feed the likes of us? Even if we could chance it, these hobbits hates men and won't give us the time o' day, let alone a flagon of ale."

"Hey Boss," Stoatie chimed in. "I got me an idea. Look over there!" Stoatie jerked his thumb over towards a small burrow that stood at the base of Bywater Pool. "Doesn't look like anybody's around. Betcha they've got some free food for the takin'. I hear hobbits eat purty good."

"Alright Stoatie, check it out. I could use somethin' myself. Jest be careful. Take Mithy with you and, if you see anything move, pound it into the ground."

A few moments later, Mithadan came riding back. "There's no one in sight, Boss. Whoever lives there isn't home now."

Mithadan inwardly breathed a sigh of relief to see that the burrow was empty. He forced down the familiar image of Cami and Maura that came creeping into his mind.

"Alright, then," barked Ferny as they headed towards the small burrow. "Let's get some dinner before we head out. Can't do nothin' till it gets darker so we might as well stay hid here. Shifty you'll stand guard, while we rustle up somethin'. Just holler if you see anybody." With that several of the men crammed themselves into the tiny space, ransacking the cupboards and overturning everything else in sight.

[ June 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Child's post

Amaranthas slipped in through the unlatched door and came hobbling up the corridor, with a serious expression on her face. Cook followed close behind.

"Enough games, Miz Pio! Our younger guests are getting rambunctious. It's time your friend stepped forward to tie the knot."

The older hobbit gazed around searching for the bride, who had wandered over to the side of the room trying to blend into the wall. Amaranthas approached Cami and reached out with the tip of her cane, giving a slight jab to the hobbit's ribs. "Let's have a closer look."

She surveyed her top to bottom, and gave a chuckle of approval. "Not bad for a bride who's a bit long in the tooth." She bent down and, with some difficulty, picked up the edge of Cami's silken overskirt, then peered intently underneath, sifting through layered petticoats until she felt a telltale lump. Cami wiggled uncomfortably as Amaranthas unhooked the pouch and triumphantly looked inside. The older hobbit inspected the contents: a small clump of earth laden with roots, a piece of bread, and a Shire penny. Then she showed the items to Cook before returning them to the pouch and pinning it back under Cami's skirts.

"Well, lass, you haven't forgotten all your customs." Amaranthas exchanged an approving glance with Cook, as Cami breathed a sigh of relief to see the older hobbit turn and disappear down the corridor as quickly as she had come.

Cami turned a gleeming face to Pio, "It's almost time!"

"What was that?" The Elf gazed quizzically at her friend.

"Just custom. Thank goodness Amaranthas let me off easy. I've seen the wise women do far more vigrous inspections."

The Elf wondered what those might be like, but merely asked about the pouch Cami carried.

"Oh, that. It's said to contain all that's needed for a happy life. The bread for food, the rich earth for the protection of a burrow, and a simple penny for the basic things we need to hold ourselves together."

At that moment Bilbo knocked on the door and asked if Cami was ready. She gave Pio an impulsive hug and walked over to Bilbo. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Lorien is here, and Maura has the children lined up in front. You'd best hurry as they're beginning to wiggle."

As Bilbo linked arms with Cami, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I do believe you're the only hobbit in history to have the cord tied by one of the Vala."

Cami responded with a grin, "It's all your fault. You know what the neighbors said about giving a lass an education. It's all those fanciful tales you told me."

With that, Bilbo affectionately towsled the bride's curls. Then, the two walked together towards the floral arch in the garden, with Cami being careful to support the hobbit's faltering steps with the sturdy weight of her own body.

Bilbo led Cami under the bower of flowers set up in the garden and gently laid Maura's hand on top of hers before he stepped away. The first silver star of the evening hung overhead like a lonely beacon of hope, as Maura looked deep into Cami's eyes. Then he made these simple promises: I, Maura Took, take you, Camielia Goodchild, to be my chosen wife. May I ever show love and respect for you. And may our union be as fruitful and blessed as the rich bounty of the earth. Then Cami repeated these same vows.

Lorien came forward, asking Cami and Maura to place their wrists near each other. Then he took a silver cord and wrapped it about their hands and arms and bound them together with a single knot, repeating these words:

Above you are the stars
below you are the stones
as time does pass
Remember
Like a star should your love burn brightly
Like a stone should your love be firm
Before the witnesses assembled,
And in respect of vows privately pledged,
I proclaim them Husband and Wife,
And declare them bonded.

Then he asked if either Cami or Maura had children who should come forward under the mantle of family. With shaking voice, Cami called out the names of Holly and Gamba, Asta and Roka, Maura and Ban, and even of absent Rose, as well as the unnamed babe she carried beneath her heart. And Lorien took a great mantle of linen and cast it over them all, saying they should love and respect each other as family.

And when all that was over, it was quiet for a moment until a small frantic voice rang out: "Mommie, I can't get out of this thing!" And the family's friends ran forward to lift the mantle and untie the cord, and offer the couple their best wishes.

*********************************************

Orual's post

Sam smiled as Lorien completed the ceremony, and thought of his own wedding. It had been a simple affair, but it had been everything that either of them needed. He could remember the glow on Rose's face as they exchanged vows. It was much the same as the glow that was now on Cami's face.

Sam smiled fondly at his childhood friend and cousin, radiant in her beautiful dress, gazing lovingly into fiancé--her husband's eyes. Quite a different person from the girl he squabbled with as a boy, who lorded her whole year of seniority over him, who he looked up to and tried to emulate and had wished so desperately to impress. Cami and Maura turned to him, and he took a deep breath. Rose gave the Hobbiton Registry of Marriages to him, and he held it up before the newlyweds. Rose was standing at his side, a quill pen in her hand, ready to give it to whoever would sign first.

"Camielia and Maura Took," he said, smiling as he said their names together for the first time, "you are now married under Iluvatar, with all of us as witnesses. Now, I ask if you wish to be recognized as a married couple by the laws of Hobbiton and of the Shire. By signing this Registry, you will be married under the law. I ask you, do you wish to sign?"

Cami and Maura looked at each other, and nodded. "We do," they said, nearly in unison. Rose solemnly handed the quill pen to Maura, who signed and handed it to Cami, who put her signature next to his.

Rose took the quill back, and Sam blew gently on the ink to dry it. "Signed and sealed under the law," he said. "You are married by the laws of the Shire." He grinned at Maura. "If you wish, you can kiss the bride."

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Piosenniel's post:

"The little ones are tired, Mistress Piosenniel, and to be honest so am I."

Gilly stood yawning by Pio's side, the babies in their basket hanging from one hand. She had dark circles under her eyes and she knuckled her eyes with her free hand, hoping to keep them from drooping.

Pio stood at the gift table for the twins, fingering the lovely and thoughtful presents the Shire folk had made for her children. She glanced over to where Maura and Cami stood, their arms about each other's waists receiving the congratulations of the guests. There were hugs and kisses on the cheek for the bride and handshakes with slaps on the back for Maura. She caught Cami's eye for a moment, and smiling sent her an image - a familiar toothy visage with a puff of smoke escaping its nostril winking impishly at her in a congratulatory manner.

She looked down at Gilly, and bending close gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You are a treasure, Gillyflower Took. I cannot think what I would do without you!" Gilly blushed at the unexpected compliment, and wondered how much of the Old Winyards her mistress had downed that day.

'Not a drop, Miz Gilly!' came the unexpected reply. Gilly looked up to see Pio grinning at her, and grinned back. 'I have stayed with the iced tea and lemon-ade today.' She laughed, reaching down to smooth the hair on her daughter's head. 'We would not want the little one's to be tipsy, would we?'

Pio took one of the blankets from the gift table and placing the basket on the gift table, tucked the soft wrap carefuly around the two babies. 'Take them and your self to Amaranthas' house, Gilly. Get some rest, the lot of you. I will come later, when the party has wound down, and we will all stay another night at her house.'

Gilly adjusted the shawl she had put on around her shoulder, drawing it more securely about her as the cool night breezes came up. 'Would you like me to walk with you to the house,' offered Pio. 'or have someone to go with you to see you safely there?'

'No, no need for that,' scoffed Gilly at the offer. 'It's only across the road and I could walk there blindfolded, I've been back and forth so many times today.'

Pio bent down and kissed the two heads just barely sticking out beyond the cover. Sweet dreamings! Your amme will come to you soon.

Gilly took the basket in her hand and trudged slowly down the path to the gate. She waved her hand at Pio in the distance as she opened it and turning east, slipped quickly across the path to the house beyond.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The men had raided the pantry for food, coming up with a pitcher of ale and several pork pies, which they'd hastily stuffed into their mouths. Then, just for fun, they'd overturned and destroyed everything in sight: the plump down mattress, the rickety table and chairs, the carved chest that Maura had made, and a few pieces of crockery Cami had borrowed from the Inn.

Worst of all, Shifty and Ratty tore down the shelf near the window that held all of Cami's books. They'd hurled them outside one-by-one and used them to aim at a variety of targets, yelling and roughousing with each other in the process.

It was Ferny who put a quick end to this horseplay, collaring Ratty and dragging him in by the scruff of the pants. "Shut yer traps. Git in here. You'll wake the whole neighborhood."

"But Boss. There's nobody here. Absolutely nobody. It's like they all disappeared."

Ferny growled back, "That may be so. But they could be back any minute. Anyways they're probably just down by the Inn."

"I want everyone to be careful. Stoatie, take off for the Inn with three of the men. Spy it out. Take the extra horse with you."

"If everything looks clear, wait in the bushes till midnight, then go ahead with the strike. Just send Ratty back so he'll tell me what you're doin'. Once you get the brats and their mother, take off. Head north and stay off the roads.

Stoatie grunted agreement and gathered the ruffians together. Each man led his horse towards the rear courtyard of the Inn keeping a tight grip on his weapons in case anything unusual turned up.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Himaran's post

Frodo-lad had bored quickly of the small game of tag; finding himself once again looking for Piosenniel. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, or maybe it was his own imagination, but seemed to him that wherever she went, excitement and adventure could be found.

After carefully scanning the party, his eyes saw Pio conversing with another hobbit, Gilly Took. He walked slowly towards them, and crawled under several tables to reach them. Crouching behind a barrel, he overheard part of their discussion.

"Take them and your self to Amaranthas’ house, Gilly. Get some rest, the lot of you. I will come later, when the party has wound down, and we will all stay another night at her house;" Piosenniel was saying. The elf asked if Gilly would like someone to accompany her to the house, and she politely declined the offer.

"No, no need for that, It’s only across the road and I could walk there blindfolded, I’ve been back and forth so many times today."
This appeared to satisfy Pio, and Gilly left with the twins.

Frodo-lad had nearly leapt up and asked if he could go with Gilly, but was too shy to do so. He certainly did not want Pio to find out he had been spying on her. But then an idea popped into his head. He could go with Gilly anyway! He would merely go for a walk, and then head over to Amaranthas’ house. He might stay outside, but he felt (in a strange way) partially responsible for the safety of the twins.

Frodo-lad waited until Pio had gone, and then slipped out from his hiding place and hurried out of Bag End. He soon spotted Gilly, and followed some ways behind her. When she reached (and entered) the house, Frodo-lad crept over to a window, and saw Gilly sit back in the armchair.

The warmth of the late evening, mixed with the walk from his secret journey, soon caused Frodo-lad to yawn and sit back against a tree. Within minutes he was asleep.

[ June 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

It was quiet for the most part at Amaranthas’ house as Gilly sat in the large overstuffed rocker in the front room. The little ones were asleep in the second bedroom, and she sat in the dim glow of the hooded candle lantern that stood on the small table by the door, her eyes nearly closed as the rocker swayed slowly back and forth.

The house had been warm when she returned from the party, and stuffy, from being closed up most of the day. Gilly had thrown open all the windows to let in the fresh night breezes, and now she sat dreamily listening to a chorus of nearby frogs play bass line to the fiddle music from the party as the summer night’s sounds drifted in softly from a distance. Only the occasional rasping sound of some insect broke the lulling rhythm.

‘I should go to bed, myself,’ she thought drowsily to herself, ‘but it’s so comfortable here.’ Gilly curled up on the seat of the rocker, drawing her legs up against her, and resting her head on the arm of the chair. Reaching her hand up to the soft woolen shawl draped over the chair’s back, she pulled it down over her, tucking a corner of it under her head as a pillow. Her lashes dropped lower, until they brushed her cheeks, and she fell headlong into dreaming.

The sounds of her soft, slow breathing eased into the cadence of chair’s wooden rockers against the old wood floor.

Squeak . . . squeak . . . . . squeak . . . . . . . squeak . . . . . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Catching a glimpse of the Dragon around the next bend, Stoatie ordered two of the men to stay behind with the horses, hiding in a grove of oaks that grew just off the main pathway. Then he and Shifty carefully crept up behind a thick hedge that led to the rear of the Inn.

Everything was strangely quiet. Much too quiet. They had not spied a single hobbit out on the road or even heard any voices coming from inside.

"What ya make of it? Maybe they is expectin' us." Shifty's voice sounded troubled.

"Dunno. But I'm gonna try somethin'. You wait 'ere."

Stoatie trotted to the back gate. Last time, he'd pried off a rear basement window and snuck into the Inn that way. Peering out in all directions and seeing absolutely no one in sight, he darted in and out of the bushes until he'd made his way to the front steps of the Inn. With a boldness that was surprising, the henchman grabbed hold of the knob and tried to turn it, ready to bolt in another direction if someone's face appeared too near the threshold.

To Stoatie's complete surprise, the door handle refused to budge. What kind of Inn was this? Every Inn he'd visited had kept their front door open for customers or at least left a doorkeeper to screen people at the gate. Stoatie glanced up and noticed a piece of paper tacked up beside the door with some handwriting scribbled on it. With one jerk, he yanked the sheet down and stuffed it inside his pocket.

Just then, from down the road came an omenous sound, the steady clip-clop of trotting ponies as a band of weary travellers approached the Inn. Glancing around and finding nowhere close to hide, Stoatie made for a nearby tree and slung his body into the lower branches so that the thick greenery completely shielded him from view, especially since it was dark and foggy.

Stoatie watched and listened carefully as one of the hobbits bounded up the steps and impatiently knocked on the door waiting for someone to answer. Then one of his companions hastily called out, "Oh, I forgot. Remember what the Innkeeper in Frogmorton told us. The Dragon's closed for the afternoon and evening. Something about folk going to a party. Strange that they didn't even post a notice. We'll have to seek lodging in the Ivy Bush."

With that the travellers continued down the roadway.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Stoatie came hustling back to Shifty and dug into his pocket to fish out the crumpled sheet. Then he shoved it under his henchman's nose.

"Here. Read this. Everyone's gone off to some party. Maybe this tells us where they're at."

"Stoatie," Shifty protested, "My readin' ain't so good."

"Well, it's gotta be better than mine. Take a look at this. Can you make out any names or places?"

Shifty shook his head, "I can't make out most of this but I see two short words here I can read. Don't know if this is any help." With difficulty, Shifty slowly pronounced the two short words as if they were totally unrelated to each other: 'Bag'.....'End'"

"Bag-End?" Stoatie shrieked triumphantly, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "I know jes' where we're goin' now. It's a ways from here. We'll need the horses. Let's drop by Ratty and Tom and tell 'em where we're headin'. Then you 'n me will take off to do the job. Oh, yeah, and bring that extra pony."

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Stoatie turned around to Shifty and glowered. "This ain't no good. No good at all. Boss didn't say anything about grabbin' the brats from a party. I never seen so many hobbits in one place in my life. There must be a hunderd of 'em all eatin' and singin'. No way I can go in there and carry the brats off without bein' caught. Heck, I can't even see those brats, let alone snatch 'em."

Shifty and Stoatie were lying hidden under the rose bushes, peering out across the garden and trying to get a look at what was going on inside the house. No matter how they stretched and squinted, their efforts met with little success.

"This ain't no good. There's only one thing to do. We'll go back to Boss and tell 'em to pull back across The Water and maybe wait for another night."

"Boss ain't gonna like that," Shifty purred.

"Well, yah got any other ideas?....Nope, I didna' think so."

With that the two men slipped out of the bushes, and walked quietly back towards the roadway where Tom was waiting with the horses. Frustrated and enraged, Stoatie aimed at a nearby stone with his right foot sending it hurtling off across the grass and crashing through a nearby window. Almost instantaneously, a harsh sound split the quiet of the night. A familiar wailing sound that Stoatie had heard too often in recent weeks was now coming from inside the burrow where the rock had sailed through the window.

Stoatie looked up excited, his eyes intent and focused, "That's it. That's one of the brats. I'm sure of it." He cautioned his men to wait and propelled his body over the hedge landing in the garden. As Stoatie peered in through the front window of the burrow, he saw a hobbit lass just waking up in the sitting room. She finished yawning and stretching and got up from her rocker. Then she walked purposefully over to the back of the burrow where a window had been broken and brought out a squalling baby, dandling him gently on her knee. She was complaining about hobbit lads who were so careless with their balls and rocks that no one could sleep in peace.

Stoatie's lips curled back in cruel triumph as he raced over to his companions and ordered them to com with him to guard the front gate. "Those brats are full-sized. I'm sure it's them. It ain't the mother, but it sure is the brats. And it's the kids that Ferny wants kidnapped. The Elf is just an extra."

"But don't you want us to come inside to help?" Tom queried.

"Nah, I got it all planned out. Jest wait 'ere for me with the horses." With that, Stoatie vanished behind the rear of the burrow.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post

The girl opened her eyes, yawned and stretched; then peered out at the friendly shadows of the dimly lit room. She felt her brother stir and startle. After sensing him settle again, she rolled over on her tummy and nestled down to sleep.

For a long time, she lay half way between waking and sleeping in the strange state where the eyelids softly flutter. She was dreaming of her ammë’s gentle touch and warm voice. In an instant, her mother's actual presence bushed sweetly against her dreams.

Suddenly, this bond was snapped as a rock came slamming through the window and landed with a thud on the braided rug, bouncing off the leg of the table and skittering to the side of the room. Almost instantaneously, Gilly's plump feet quietly padded in. Clucking and tittering, the nursemaid reached down into the cradle, hoisting the wailing lad onto her shoulder, while extending her left hand to place an affectionate pat on his sister's back. She drew the curtains shut and reminded herself to clean up later.

Her little world restored, the girl slid back into dreams. Once more she felt her mother brush against her mind with hints of comfort and reassurance. Within a few moments, she was deep in sleep, blissfully unaware of the dark shadows that now lurked just outside the window.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

The night was pleasantly warm. A small breeze had sprung up but only for a short while, and only enough to bring the scents of the night blooming flowers to her. It had grown dark and someone had lit the little lanterns that hung from the trees. They twinkled against the backdrop of the night sky and glimmered on the leaves. Voices rose and fell as groups of merrymakers came together and then departed, forming new groupings, moving on again.

The party swirled about her, and lulled by the ebb and flow of sounds, Pio was half asleep in her chair, leg propped up on the footstool Sam’s boys had brought her, her head leaning heavily on her hand. Hazily she reached out to the babies, touching their soft dreams, slipping further into dreams of her own.

Her eyes flew open as they startled awake, and her hands clasped the arms of the chair as she pushed herself upright and awake. Pio’s eyes narrowed and turned to the east, as her mind sought the reason for this rent in the peaceful night.

Little Wing! What frightens you? she called softly to her daughter, reassurance flowing back with the feel of Gilly’s calm presence in the little girl’s mind and the feel of the Hobbit’s warm, comforting hand against the little back. Her daughter's mind fluttered back toward the comfort of her dreamings.

Her son was crying, and she could feel his body tremble and tense against the frightened awakening, then calm down slowly in little steps as the familiar smells and touch of Gilly engulfed him.

Ah! She holds him close and rocks him. Pio smiled, feeling the rhythm of the chair drop him down into sleep again. She reached out to him, singing softly . . .

Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monsters gone,
He's on the run
and your ammë's here,

Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy . . .

Now both were peaceful again in their little dreams. And Pio, assured of their safety and comfort, relaxed against the chair and propped her own head back on her hand, her eyes fluttering closed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gilly turned the lamp on the little table by the door down low. ‘Hush, little lordling,’ she murmured softly to the wailing baby. He squirmed against her, balling up his little fists in rage against the sudden awakening. ‘It was nothing, little one,’ she said, holding him securely against her shoulder as she patted him gently on the back. ‘Just some trick of the wind blowing that branch from the ash tree hard against the old window pane, I’ll bet.


Sitting down carefully in the rocking chair, she cradled him close in her arms and rocked slowly back and forth. ‘Shhh!’ she whispered quietly to him, ‘shhh . . .’ Freeing one hand, she pulled the warm shawl she had thrown in her haste on the back of the chair, back over her, tucking one end round the drowsing baby, secured on her lap.

‘Hush now, your safe . . . I’m here . . .’

Gilly’s voice trailed off, the motion of the rocker coming to rest, as sleep claimed her . . .

____________________________________________

*with a thank you to J.H. & J.L. for their lyrics . . .

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

theWhiteLady's post

As the water in her basin swirled with a red stain, Rose's breath came in great ragged gasps, and her mind worked furiously, struggling to think quickly. It was as if the red mist obscuring the pure depths of the water had also drawn a blanket over her thoughts. The long, frustratingly serene days Rose had spent in Bree, waiting for some bit of information or hint from Mithadan or Bird had built up inside her a longing for something - anything to happen! Sitting idly by was not this young hobbit's idea of helping, and certainly not what had in mind when she had left Gilly behind.

Rose ran to the small closet beside her bed and ripped clothes off their hangers before stuffing them roughly in an old traveling sack. Now the time had come for action, and Rose felt an exhilarating thrill which turned to a cold chill when she thought again of Mithadan’s bloody message. Any details were unnecessary; it was enough for Rose to know that Pio's twins were in danger. And from the look of the men downstairs, very serious danger indeed.

Clothes hasilty packed, Rose tip-toed down to the kitchen and took enough provisions to last her until she could reach Hobbiton. Excuses would have to be made for her quick disappearance, and her pony fetched from the stable but by now Rose was almost in tears. Even such a short delay could be disastrous; she did not want to even think of Pio's reaction if she was too late!

It was not until nearly an hour later that Rose was able to break away from her many new friends, all anxiously inquiring about her 'ill aunt' and set out upon the dusty road. A tight knot had settled firmly down into her stomach and as the countryside fell steadily behind, Rose knew she was the only person that could save Pio and her twins from danger.

[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Stoatie bent over and with much squirming and maneuvering managed to haul his lanky frame through the small opening that stood near the childrens' beds. There was a sharp ripping sound as his breeches caught on a protruding nail, and his back seem split asunder. Stoatie cursed the small dwellings of the hobbit folk and swore that he'd find a way to get even. After his body emerged on the inside of the burrow, he slid to the floor and landed in a head-long sprawl just inches from the baby's cradle.

His hand instantly went down to the top of his boot as he yanked out a silver dagger with a blade some eight inches long. Scrambling to stand up, he drew his finger along the gleeming edge to make sure that it was sharp enough to do the job that he would need. With a self satisfied smirk on his face, he stalked over to the cradle and leered down at the brat he'd come to swipe. Oblivious to the rude invasion of her little world, the girl slept contentedly.

Stoatie pointed his dagger at the base of the sleeping child's throat and drew it gently and deliberately across her skin, leaving the slightest impression. Then he repositioned his knife in the same spot and drew it across again but this time pressing hard enough to leave tiny red beads along the edge of the cut. He stared at the little body as if mesmorized, thinking that it would take very little effort for him to snap the slender neck in two. The child had already started to howl and turn red in the face, flailing at the air with two clenched fists.

The spell broken, Stoatie reached down and jerked the baby out of the cradle running towards the front of the house up to the rocker where Gilly sat snoozing with the other child nestled to her breast. He immediately began to bark out orders to the startled nursemaid who stared back at him, her eyes wide with terror and disbelief. Despite Stoatie's frantic screams for Gilly to get up and move, she sat frozen in the rocker with her arms protectively wrapped around the little boy.

Stoatie leaned over and jerked Gilly up by the collar of her dress, throwing her against the wall. The boy had begun to sob hysterically. But when Stoatie tried to grab onto him, Gilly yanked away and clutched the child even more closely to her body.

He looked over at the hobbit and sneered, "I don't know who you are. But, if you want these brats to live, you'll do what I say."

Stoatie held up the infant girl and grinned maliciously as he pointed towards the trail of red which now extended around the base of her neck. He set the point of his dagger immediately under the baby's chin. "Make one move and we'll kill this one, plus the other ten we have back in our lair. I ain't kiddin'. The Boss wants these kids alive. But rather than lettin' 'em get away, he'll see 'em dead."

"Now, get movin' and shut that kid up." Gilly frantically tried to comfort the boy as the thug shoved her out the door.

"Shifty, get over here," Stoatie roared, shoving the girl baby towards him. "Tie that kid onto your saddle or somethin'. If the nurse does anything funny, don't look twice. Just kill this little one. That's the price for misbehavin'." He turned around and glared at Gilly and ordered her to mount up with the boy and ride as hard as she could.

[ June 25, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Himaran's post:

Frodo-lad was awoken by the sound screams. Those of a baby, and one inside the house near him at that. Suddenly, he jerked upright, realizing just who that baby was: one of Miss Pio's children!

Dashing over to the window, he peered in cautiously; not wanting to disturb Gilly. What he saw, however, certainly did not involve Gilly attempting to comfort one of the babys. Two Big-Folk were inside, one of whom had thrown Gilly against the wall. Through snatches of the conversation, Frodo-lad could tell that the babes were being kidnapped, and Gilly too. A sense of pure helplessness grasped him, a feeling of great defeat; of being to small to protect the twins and Gilly. Before he realized what had happened, the men were gone, along with Gilly and her precious charge.

The young hobbit stood still for a moment, completely stunned by the events that had just occured. Shaking himself back into reality, Frodo-lad decided that his best course of action was to head to Bag-End for help. He started at a flat run, but soon tired and slowed to a quick walk. Frodo-lad knew one thing for sure; he had to get there in time!

[ July 02, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ July 02, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Stoatie had shoved her roughly as she stooped to grab the basket with the babies’ things in it that stood by the door. ‘Wotcher doin wiv ‘at?’ he growled at her, his words slurring around a mouthful of nasty chew-weed. He spat a foul looking gob on Amaranthas’ floor to emphasize his question.

Gilly clasped the baby boy to her and murmured a few words of comfort. ‘Listen here, Mister Big-Folk, if you’re so set on taking me and the babies, you better have something for me to take care of them with.’ She stood her ground, her knees shaking beneath her party dress, and glared back at the ruffian.

He grabbed the basket and pawed through it with his dirty fingers. ‘Looks like there ain’t no weapons.’ He threw it at her and smirked as he took one of the twins’ little night gowns and wiped his nose with it. ‘Here! You little hole-dwelling rat. Take it and mount up and shut up!’

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

The little girl wailed with rage, her tiny body stiffening against the hurtful grip that held her. Gilly’s mind was filled only with the sight of her precious charge, bleeding and struggling in the hands of the other ruffian. Her throat tight with fear, and eyes wide as saucers, she took her second stand.

‘Give me the other baby, too,’ she said firmly to Shifty, swallowing back the bile which had risen in her throat. ‘She won’t stop crying til you do.’ Shifty looked from the caterwauling infant to Stoatie. ‘Her mother’s an Elf, you know, and quite handy with a knife and sword. If she senses her daughter is in danger she’ll be on you in a moment.’ She looked Shifty straight in the eye, and added for emphasis, ‘She’ll peel the skin right off you while you’re both still breathing.’ Gilly nodded her head solemnly. ‘She’s done it before. Told me so herself.’

Gilly stood her ground and refused to mount the horse. Her hand kept up a steady, gentle rhythm on the little boy’s back and he had snuggled in against her, quiet for the moment as his sister screamed. ‘Best hurry and decide,’ she said. ‘Mistress Piosenniel is only a short distance away . . .’

[ June 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Orual]

Shifty stared, bewildered, at the shrieking infant in his arms, and glanced uncertainly at Stoatie. Give her the kid? What if she bolted? His head tilted slightly, he looked at Gilly and then at the horse. She probably couldn't. Or at least wouldn't risk it. Long way to fall.

He jerked his head to indicate to Stoatie that he was pulling over for a moment. He dismounted and shoved the girl child at the nurse, pushing her roughly to the front of the saddle. He pulled himself back on, sitting behind Gilly and the babies. "Another complaint and I'll try some o' them pretty ideas your Miz Piosenniel gave you," he rasped. Gilly shot a nervous, angry look at him, which he ignored. He jabbed his horse with his heels, and it took off running.

The night air whipped against his face and stung his eyes. He wished to be basically anywhere but on this horse, on this road, at this moment, but there wasn't any point in wishing now. A group of three hobbits--young farmers by the look of them--startled when they heard the approach of the horses, and Shifty laughed. "Hya! Make way!" he shouted. He could feel Gilly stiffening in front of him, and he laughed harder. The three farmers fled as he jerked his horse toward them, running them off the road. His eyes glinted cruelly and he spat at their backs. He threw his head back and whooped, spurring his horse on faster. Even in Gilly's comforting embrace the little ones whimpered, and, fearing that they would start to scream again, Shifty slowed down.

"Got them kiddies tight?" he demanded, and Gilly nodded stiffly, refusing to look the bandit in the face. "Good," he said,and they rode off further down the road.

[ June 26, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

[piosenniel]

Pio sat in her chair beneath the trees in Sam’s yard, dreaming of riding in the Forest of Brethil. She was mounted bareback on Falmar, and her children sat before her, about the age of four, taking in the trees and the creatures that lived among them. It was a scene from her own childhood, and the pleasant memories of a ride she had gone on with someone there played back in her dream.

Something was wrong, though. The pleasant day that she recalled was turning dark, the air heavy with the promise of a rising storm. The sharp cry of a bird in warning drew her attention sharply to the shadows that moved beneath the trees.

Her children grew frightened . . . she pulled them closer to her . . . she drew her sword . . .

With a frightened gasp, Pio woke from her dream, her mind disquieted. The pleasant sights and sounds of the party moved around her in a swirl. She blocked them out and touched her son’s mind briefly. He was sleeping! Though his dreams seemed slightly ruffled and uneasy. Perhaps he was still upset from what had startled him before. Her daughter, too, shifted uneasily, thoughts of Gilly’s presence though giving a feeling of some comfort.

Little ones! she said gently, touching their minds softly. ‘Your ammë will come soon to you.

They reached out for her, comforted by her presence. Their little thoughts grew distant, and she thought they must have dropped deeply into slumber.

Satisfied for the moment, Pio rose carefully from her chair and walked stiffly across the yard, looking for Cami, to tell her she must leave . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Mithadan's Post:

Ratty returned to the copse of woods near Cami's burrow shortly after midnight. As he reined in his horse, Ferny jumped up and ran over to hear the bandit's report. "The Inn's closed. Some party or sumtin' at Bagged End. But Stoat found the little Elf rats at another house bein' coddled by some Hobbit. The Elf ain't there. He's goin' in ter grab the kiddies and should be back soon."

Mithadan breathed a silent sigh of relief upon hearing that Piosenniel was not with the babies. Then he waited tensely alongside Ferny for the raiding party to return. He did not have to wait long. The three horses approached perhaps twenty minutes later. He recognized Gilly being held by Stoat. She in turn held two bundles in her arms. Mithadan resisted the urge to peek at his children and instead waited impassively as Ferny spoke briefly with Stoat.

At the conclusion of the conversation, Stoat guided his horse over to Mithadan. Shifting the weight of his captive to one side, he reached down and pulled Mithadan's sword from a strap alongside his saddle. He tossed the blade over with a slight sneer. "There yer go Mithy," he called. Gilly stiffened slightly upon hearing the name and glanced quickly down at her friend before looking away. "Just in case yer have some need fer it!" Then he and his companions wheeled away and galloped off towards the east.

Ferny walked over and clapped a hand on Mithadan's shoulder. "Our turn for some fun now!" he cried. "They found the kids in a house about halfway between the Inn and Bag End. They said there're some people about, so we should be able to find a messenger for our note. Come on!" Mithadan mounted his horse and followed as Ferny trotted off in the direction of Bag End.

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

It was a good hour and possibly two before Pio could get away from the party. Many of the guests who had come had not had time to place their gifts on the table, and it seemed as if an endless stream of smiling Hobbit faces presented her with brightly wrapped boxes. And each, or so she had been told by Cami, must be opened carefully, the paper smoothed out and folded for later use in lining the twins’ dresser drawers once they returned to Gondor.

In addition to this, there was, of course, the obligatory oohing and aahing over the gift itself. Not that Pio objected to this little round of tradition, but she was tired, and it took most of her effort not to yawn as she listened attentively to the well-wishes of the gift-givers.

Some,also, had brought their gifts to Cami and Maura, who stood nearby, and Pio felt she must also comment on each of those as well. Her face ached from the smile she had cemented on it, and she yawned widely as the last of the presenters wandered off for a last glass of ale or wine.

‘I saw that!’ Cami came over to sit on the edge of Pio’s chair. Pio grinned guiltily at her, then yawned again. ‘You cannot tell me that you are not bone tired also, my friend.’ She took Cami’s hand and held it to her cheek. ‘It has been a very long day. My leg is aching and I long to snuggle in with my children and drift off for a good long while.’ She nodded to the table that had held the food for the party. Empty now, except for a few crumbs on the cloth, it’s covering fluttered softly in the night breeze. ‘Look there, Cami. If I am not mistaken, that is Holly’s little head peeking out from underneath it, asleep.’

Cami turned and smiled as she saw her daughter’s sleeping form. Holly lay there peacefully unaware of those who milled about in the yard, her little head resting on her arm and her thumb stuck securely in her mouth. ‘You’re right,’ she laughed. ‘It has been a long day. I suppose we should say our good-byes and get home.’

‘Better yet,’ said Pio winking at her conspiratorially, ‘we can just sneak off, no one will notice us.’ Cami shook her head and gave her a ‘look’.

‘Right then,’ said Pio, sighing, ‘would not want to offend and all that. You go gather up your family and I will see to Amaranthas. She can make the excuses for me, and then we will head back home.’

Pio bent down and kissed her friend on her curls. ‘If I do not see you when we leave, then I will come with the babies to see you all tomorrow.’ She waved at Cami as she walked off.

‘Have a good night, Missus!’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Child's post:

As Cami watched Pio disappear around the corner, she hoisted the sleeping Holly into her arms, nestling the toddler's drooping head in the hollow of her shoulder; then she went to search for her sons. Maura had already rounded up the boys and shepherded them along the walkway to the outer hedge encircling the back garden where they stood waiting for their mother. As Cami approached her family, she leaned over and kissed each of the boys on top of their curly heads, saying how very proud and happy she'd felt that afternoon.

After extending thanks to Samwise and Rose, the members of the new Took family waved their goodbyes to the remaining guests and headed towards home. Before they'd gotten more than a few steps from Bag-end, Frodo came running to join them, hastily explaining that Bilbo had already left with the pony cart about an hour earlier. The nine hobbits walked together towards the Dragon, with the boys playing tag along the side of the road and the adults chuckling good naturedly over the childrens' hijinks.

As they approached the final bend, Maura offered to stay with the boys in the stables to help them settle in for the night. "Take Holly home," he urged his wife. "Both of you look exhausted. I'll be there in a little while."

Cami nodded wearily and was about to head off when she felt Frodo's hand gently tug at her sleeve. "Can't be too careful with all these strange happenings. Let me walk with you. Just in case." Cami stretched and yawned, weary beyond all thinking. She had intended to decline Frodo's kind offer when a strange presentiment slipped into her mind and forced her to silence.

Maura leaned down and whispered something in Cami's ear. She looked over and affectionately hugged him, whispering that he should hurry home. With these final words of parting, Cami made her way behind the Inn to where the lonely path wound down from the rear courtyard through a tangled grove of beech trees. The two hobbits chased away the dark shadows by playfully discussing what a lovely view Cami's burrow commanded, and how others might want to copy their example by refurbishing some of the deserted holes that bordered the pond.

They had just rounded the corner by the last beech tree and stepped onto the pathway that led directly to the Took's back door when Cami flinched in horror, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stared at the scene of destruction that was spread out before them. Almost instinctively, she gasped and buried her face in Frodo's shoulder, before recovering and running forward to find out what had happened.

The family's few belongings and pieces of furniture had been hurled out the front door and strewn over the muddy banks of the pond, many of them spilling down into the water. Books, broken crockery, ripped breeches, and gutted matresses lay haphazardly discarded in crumpled piles. Cami curled her fingers tight, clenching her fists close to her body until the knuckles stood out like pale white hills. "Who did this?" she demanded of Frodo.

"I don't know but I'm going to find out," the hobbit muttered angrily under his breath, immediately beginning to scavange the area for any clues the vandals had left behind. He disappeared around the back of tne burrow next door. Clutching Holly tightly to her chest, Cami sprinted up close behind him, peering over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.

Frodo whirled around to confront her, and pushed her back several paces. His face looked taut and strained "No, get away. You don't want to see this." Wrenching loose from his grip, she pushed his hand off her shoulder and struggled around towards her left until she could clearly see what he was trying to shield from her view. On the lower branches of the great beech, suspended from a knotted rope, hung the lifeless body of a black kitten, a small creature that Cami had been feeding every night when he came meowing to her back door. Its head drooped at a crooked angle; streaks of blood ran down its fur. Tied to the rope close to the cat's body was a single sheet of vellum yanked from one of Cami's books. On it, inscribed in blood red letters was a single name in large block print: "Frodo Baggins"

********************************************

Mithadan's Post:

Mithadan and Ferny crossed the fields at a trot, keeping to cover where possible. At least an hour had passed since the children had been snatched by Stoat and other mischief had been done as well which might be noticed at any time. They were not far from the Bywater Bridge when they spied a solitary figure trudging along the road up to Bag End. Ferny spurred his horse forward and they swiftly caught up to the Hobbit who, at the last minute, noticed their approach and stepped warily off to the side of the road.

"He'll do!" cried Ferny. "Go on Mithy!"

Mithadan leapt from his horse and ran towards the Hobbit. With a cry, his quarry turned and ran, dodging behind a hedge where Mithadan, with a leap, caught him by his legs. The Hobbit kicked and squirmed. "Let me go!" came a familiar voice.

Mithadan caught him up in a tight hug and covered his mouth as tightly as he could without harming him. "Sam's son, isn't it?" whispered the Man. "Thrash about and act as if I'm hurting you. I'm sorry about this." Mithadan lifted Frodo-Lad and, still holding him, crashed into the hedge causing a bit of a racket. Then he threw himself down on the ground and rolled on top of the lad feigning blows to his face and head.

As Ferny came up, Mithadan lifted the lad from the turf and, with a kick to his back, straightened him before the "Boss". Frodo wriggled and whimpered, but a cuff to the side of the head (which actually struck Mithadan's own arm) silenced him. Then Mithadan drew his sword and held it across the lad's throat as he waited for Ferny to speak.

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

‘That was a very pleasant evening!’

Amaranthas sat on the seat of the pony cart next to Pio, her chin resting on the head of her cane. It had been a long time since she had seen many of the Hobbit families that were at the party, and she had gotten her fill of family histories and gossip. Enough she thought to last her a good long while. She chuckled out loud, thinking of the Deepdelvers from Gamwich, and the outlandish stories she had heard of Gaffer Deepdelver and his experiment with the dandelion wine.

The little house was quiet and dark as they turned onto the little dirt path leading up to it.

‘Ah! Here at last,’ said Pio, coming round to where Amaranthas sat and giving her a hand down from the cart. ‘I cannot wait to crawl into bed,’ she commented as she and the old Hobbit unhooked Thistle from the cart and got him settled in his little stall. ‘Here, let me carry those baskets of gifts into the house. You go up and open the door for me. Put on a little light if you will.’

Pio stacked the three baskets one on top of the other and bent down carefully to pick them up. She had just turned and gotten to the step up to the verandah, when she heard Amaranthas gasp, and then cry out. The baskets were dropped and Pio covered the distance to the door in a few steps.

Amaranthas stood just inside the doorway. The lamp on the little table next to it was lit now, and Pio’s darting gaze took in the tumult in the room. There was a small red trail on the floor, and one of the twins’ gowns was crumpled in a dirty heap near it. Pio ran to the bedroom. The cradle was empty, the twins and Gilly were gone, and there was glass on the floor beneath the broken window.

Her blood ran cold. The world narrowed in about her. ‘I cannot frighten them,’ she told herself, taking a ragged breath and breathing it out slowly.

Little ones! Her mind brushed round theirs gently. Your ammë is here. Sleep. Do not cry. I am coming for you.

Pio’s mind focused in what she must do. Amaranthas was put on Thistle and told to go straight back to Sam’s house. They must alert the Shiriff. Amaranthas would stay with them tonight – her house was not safe, and Pio would not be there.

Once the old Hobbit had been sent on her way, Pio rushed back to her bedroom. She undressed quickly, throwing her clothes in a heap on the floor, and pulled on her black tights and mail shirt with a tunic over it. Her scabbard was secured about her hips, and her baldric with six knives slung across her chest. She jammed her legs into her boots, securing the last two of her knives in the tops, along with a thin, woven cord garrote. last, her vambraces were secured to her forearms. Done, she went out to the yard to see if she could pick up a trail.

The kidnappers had not been careful to hide their tracks. Thank the Stars for the overweening pride of the stupid creatures she thought to herself as she crouched down, noting the general direction in which the horses had gone away from the house.

East - and it looked as if they traveled over the fields, not by the Great Road.

Throwing her cloak about her shoulders, she called Falmar to her from the fields near Amaranthas’. Pio twisted her fingers in the horse’s mane and leapt to her back, making for the gate to follow them. She had just cleared it when she heard the sound of hooves getting louder, coming closer. In the distance, beneath the bright moonlight, she saw a lone rider urge their mount on at breakneck speed up the road to Bag End and Amaranthas’.

Pio halted, throwing her cloak behind her shoulders, and unsheathed her sword as the rider, face in shadow, drew near . . .

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

theWhiteLady's post


The sun had long slipped below the horizon and replaced by a pale moon, when Rose finally reached the outskirts of Hobbiton. The wind whistled in her ears, drowning out all noise except her mount’s pounding hooves and laboured breathing; she began to distractedly wonder how much longer he could keep going. The cold light illuminated the path before them, and lengthened the shadows that stretched over the road. To Rose’s exhausted mind, the shadows seemed to be reaching out with long, groping fingers, intent on slowing her down. The young hobbit shook her head but as her eyes once more swept the road, the shadowy phantom seemed only to evolve into a more menacing shape: a cloaked rider blocking the path. A shaft of moonlight danced upon the keen edge of an unsheathed sword, the steel glittered with deadly brightness. Rose brought up her horse with a gasp, wondering wildly if a barrow had arisen out of old fireside tales; cold chills shook her hot body and it was only her desperate mission that was able to keep her from fleeing.

A moment later, a warm summer wind rustled the trees above, and the shaft of light shifted fitfully from the sword to the rider’s face. Rose realized, with a wave of relief that left her weak, that the foreboding phantom before her was the very person she was seeking: Piosenniel!

“Miss Pio!” Rose cried into the dark. “It’s me, Rose.”

“Rose?” Pio’s voice echoed back with surprise and a hint of skepticism. Suddenly, Rose felt sick once more. She had thought it strange to see her friend out at night, and dressed for battle but now all came clear - what else could be so urgent?

“Their gone, aren’t they? I’m too late,” The young hobbit slid from the saddle and shook with despair.

“How did you know? Do you know where they have been taken?” Pio dismounted and half ran over to her friend. Rose spoke thickly, a lump seemed to have become lodged firmly in the middle of her throat.

“Mithadan told me in Bree,” but Pio interrupted sharply. “Mithadan knew?” Rose hardly noticed the interruption as she struggled to continue.

“Rumor in Bree has it that Ferny has been using the quarries of Scary in the Eastfarthing as a hide out and I had a sneaking suspicion he might be using it to hide the children he’s kidnaped. I don’t know anything for sure though, I was hoping to reach you before they did.” Rose could not keep back the tears.

Pio looked away to the East with a dangerous glint in her eye and Rose knew there would be no mercy for those who had taken her twins. After mounting, the elf glanced at the quivering hobbit below her. “You’ll need to let Samwise know where Ferny might be heading. And thank you, Rose,” she added in a softer tone. The next moment, Pio was gone, galloping furiously towards her twins and the men who had taken them.

Rose also mounted and completed the journey into Hobbiton in a daze. Her head felt light, and her stomach seemed to have dropped down somewhere in the region of her toes. After all her riding and determination to keep Pio’s twins from harm, she had failed. Now, who knew what might happen to them and to their mother?

The green door of Bag End finally appeared with banners draped gaily around and the sound of music floated out an open window. Too weary to wonder what festivity had kept the occupants of the hole up so late, Rose knocked and waited, but her knees shook, and before they could open the door, she had collapsed onto the doorstep.

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Ferny looked roughly down at the young hobbit, who glared back up at him defiantly. The former felt a thrill of delight when he saw that there was no proud, haughty, superior shine in that look. Just plain defiance and anger. No more dealing with Fosco-brats... until they went back to the hideout.

Ferny hesitated for a moment, trying to work out just how to make his approach. The ransom note right away? Or should he ascertain that this child knew Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee? No time to think it over. Ferny spoke in a sharp voice. "All right, speak up. Do you know Frodo Baggins?"

Frodo-lad glared at him stubbornly, his lips pressed tightly together and everything about him saying that they would get no answer from him. Ferny leaned forward, his foul breath blowing into the lad's face. He repeated the question, but his voice had changed. Rather than speaking in a scolding voice like you might use to threaten a child, his voice was low, menacing, dangerous.

The boy shook his head obstinately, saying in a growl, "What business have you knowing?"

Ferny, feeling his patience and calm dropping rapidly, struck the child on the cheek and snarled the question once more. But, to his surprise, the lad still didn't answer. His eyes rose and looked evenly into Ferny's, smoldering with anger. Ferny suddenly realized with a shock that his hand was covering his nose, and suddenly it was all clear to him. He knew where he had seen a look like that before.

"You're one of Samwise Gamgee's children, aren't you?" he snarled angrily, the memory of that apple coming at his face now clear and vivid. He laughed cruelly. "No need to deny it, because I know it's true." He glared down at the lad and took his hand away from his nose. "You need to deliver a message to Frodo Baggins," he said. "Tell him that he needs to come to the the deserted area a little ways north of Bywater Pond tonight, without any Shirriffs or friends, not even that faithful pet of his, Samwise Gamgee, or the three brats don't have a chance at life."

A flicker of concern shone briefly in the boy's eyes, but he spoke in the same tone of voice. "What three brats?"

"Just tell him that," Ferny said. "He'll know what I mean." He hesitated, then added, "Remember, if he doesn't come they die, and if he doesn't come alone they die." He shifted his eyes to Mithadan and said, "All right, let 'im go."

As soon as Mithadan released him, Frodo-lad scrambled a distance off, in the direction of Bag-End. He stopped at one point and, turning, glared at Ferny. The ruffian called up to him, "You'd better get going now or they'll be killed! Go quickly!" The hobbit lad turned and began to run towards Bag-End. His father and Frodo would know what to do about this.

[ July 02, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Himaran's post:

Frodo-lad ran flat out toward Bag-End, mentally repeating the lengthy message in his head. When he reached the gates, the hobbit was nearly sick from running; and thus jogged across the party field. He soon spotted his father, mother, and Frodo all talking on the steps above Bag-End. Running up to them, Frodo-lad blurted out "Dad, Dad you've got to hear this!"

The desired effect of the words did not come. Sam turned to Frodo-lad slowly, and gave him a dark, stern look. "Frodo-lad, how many times must I tell you not to interrupt other peoples' conversations! It is an extremely poor social skill, and furthermore....."

Sam's voice trailed off when he saw how exausted Frodo-lad looked. The hobbit then knew that he had his father's attention. However, in his excitement, the hobbit tried to fit everything into several sentences. "I was down at Amarathras' house, and Gilly was there with the twins. But then these three Big Folk came in, and they took them away. And then I ran back, but I was stopped by Mithadan and another one of the big folk and they grabbed me, an' told me to tell you that, Frodo, he needs to come to the deserted area a little ways north of Bywater Pond tonight, without any Shirriffs or friends, not even with you, dad, or Gilly and the twins won't live or any of the other children!"


_____________________________________________

Pio's post - the Shiriff, Halfred

Halfred’s face darkened as Frodo-lad repeated the ransom demand. His eyes narrowed and he nodded his head at his brother, Filibert, as if to say ‘I told you so!’

The partygoers had gathered round as the note was read, and now the group was abuzz with exclamations of shock and anger. Halfred raised his voice his voice to add his own commentary to the maelstrom of words and emotions.

‘I knew it all along! He was a viper in our midst!’ Halfred rounded on Sam. ‘Begging your pardon, Mister Mayor, but you should never have sent that note when we first caught him. He should have been kept in the locks, and delivered by the Bounders to the Rangers. The King’s justice should have taken care of him. He shouldn’t have been allowed to stay here as a free man!’

He folded his arms across his chest and waited for the recognition he felt he deserved. The response was not long in coming . . .

_____________________________________________


theWhiteLady's post

"You listen here, Mr. Halfred!" Rose Goodchild's voice rang out clearly, though she staggered a bit as she made her way through the crowd. Several heads turned, watching the little hobbit march up to the shirrif, trembling slightly from both anger and exhaustion.

"Mithadan has been out risking his neck trying to find out who those
Bandits are and where they are hiding, which is a whole lot more than
I've noticed you doing! I've been in Bree for the last few weeks because I was foolish enough to try and stop him; well, he finally make contact with me yesterday, and do you know what he did?" Rose was shouting now and everyone else listening. "He warned me what was going to happen. Why else would I nearly kill my pony to get back here so quick? And I might have had time too, if you had been doing your job instead of going to parties! And if you think Mithadan would want to hurt his own children then . . . then you're even more stupid than we all thought!" Rose was forced to stop, out of breath and out of steam for the moment.


_____________________________________________

Himaran's post:

Frodo-lad watched Halfred's face as Rose explained why Mithadan was innocent and a friend. It was clear that the Sheriff was unimpressed with her story. "Yes, that's all good and well, but what about him grabbing Frodo-lad and giving him to Ferny, huh? How do you explain that?"

Frodo-lad then decided to intervene. "I can, sir. You see, Mithadan didn't actually hurt me. He just picked me up and told me that he was sorry about the whole thing, but was just trying to help the children. I think that he's just playing along with Ferny and the other Big-Folk."
_____________________________________________

Child's post:

Rose and Frodo-lad's heartfelt words did a great deal to sway the opinion of those who had gathered to hear what had happened. A few who had initially clamored for Mithadan’s head now found themselves staring at their toes, shifting nervously from foot to foot, and wondering if their own judgment might have been too hasty. Soon, they were glaring over towards Halfred with unabashed frustration, begging him to stop persecuting an innocent man and actually do something to collar the real culprits.

Halfred, however, gave little indication of backing down. He was too sure of himself and remained stubbornly obdurate, carefully pointing out that the Shire had been a happy place to live until Mithadan arrived within its borders upsetting everyone and everything. Vowing to carry out his duties exactly as he saw fit, Halfred mulishly planted his feet in the soil and refused to budge.

At this point, Cami had heard enough. She’d stood quietly at the back struggling to keep her opinions to herself, but soon found her anger bubbling over as she remembered the twins and the danger they were in. She stared at Halfred and vented. "How can you possibly say these things after everything Mithadan has done to try and help? If one hair on those childrens’ heads is harmed, it will be your fault. Your fault, Halfred Whitfoot! You will be as much to blame as the bandits themselves. If you had focused on catching these thugs instead of wasting time chasing after chimeras, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

Halfred's response was immediate and curt. "When I need an opinion from someone who doesn't even live here anymore, I'll ask for it. Meanwhile, I'm in charge. You can argue all day, but it's not going to change my mind!"

Suddenly, from beyond the garden hedge, came the distant sound of rumbling cart wheels, a vehicle that appeared to be slowly heading west in the direction of Bag-end.

*********************************************

Coming to the hard realization that nothing she could say would dissuade Halfred from his course, a disappointed Cami retreated over to where her husband stood. Maura's attention was no longer fixed on the cantankerous debate which he frankly considered useless. He'd already begun his preparations to leave and was sorting through the weapons he'd managed to salvage from their ransacked burrow. He handed Cami her bow and sword, then buttoned up his protective leather vest and strapped two dudgeons to his waist, drawing out his broadsword to test its balance and heft before slipping it back inside its scabbard.

Maura fixed an uneasy eye on his wife as he began walking towards the outside gate. "I'll never understand Shirelings. There's a man and several hobbits in trouble and all they do is argue."

Cami shook her head, "It's different for them. Very different. There were troubles at the end of the last war. But that's it. Other than that, they've been protected from this kind of thing."

Exasperated and out of patience, he snapped back, "They would never have survived in Beleriand. They have neither the wits nor heart."

Cami's response was equally swift, "Don't be so sure. There's more to them than you see. At the end Halfred will do what's right."

Maura reached out and gently squeezed his wife's hand as if to apologize for his sharp tongue, "I hope so. But now I have to do what I think is right."

He hastily sprinted down the garden path and out onto the road with Cami following close at his heels. Some ways ahead was a shadowy figure whom they could not make out. As the shadow came into focus bringing a flash of recognition, Cami's heart thumped furiously. In the distance, heading straight towards Bywater and presumably venturing on to the pool where the rendezvous was scheduled to take place, was the quickly receding figure of Frodo Baggins.

Cami's face blanched as she glimpsed the solitary hobbit hurrying along the road. "By all of Beruthiel's cats, no one even bothered to talk with him, or ask his opinion. So he made up his own mind and slipped off. Curse that Halfred. His stubborness will cause someone's death."

Maura glanced quickly at Cami, "Would Frodo do that? Would he run off to handle things on his own?"

Cami nodded fiercely without bothering to explain. "Yes! Believe me, he would." With that she and Maura took off at a dead run to try and catch up.

_____________________________________________


Pio's post - The Shiriff, Halfred

Milo and Hugo raced back to Sam’s house, shouting for Halfred as they dismounted and hurried into the garden with Amaranthas in tow. She had flagged them down from her cart and given them the story of what had happened at her house. They had just come down from the burrow where Cami and Maura had taken up residence, and had come to alert the Shiriff.

They stopped, perplexed, when they caught sight of him and looked curiously at the red faced Shiriff, ringed by an angry looking group of Shire folk. They drew nearer, looking to see if he needed protection, but words, it appeared, were the only weapons being hurled at him.

Halfred, for his part, was doing his best to explain why he had taken the actions the angry little mob seemed so upset about. Noting that his deputies had arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and motioned them over, expecting them to support him in his continued belief that Mithadan was at the heart of all this nasty business. Milo and Hugo cast their eyes at the ground at his request to tell the group what they’d learned, squirming uncomfortably with the knowledge that the Shiriff was indeed in the wrong.

It was Amaranthas, elbowing the two of them apart to make a path for herself, who set him straight once and for all. She stood right before him, fixing him with her beady black eyes. Leaning on her blackthorn cane, she told him the entire story of how Piosenniel and Mithadan had agreed that he would try to find the Big Folk responsible for hurting the folk in the Shire. How he had gone away before his own children were born.

‘His firstborn, mind you, Halfred Whitfoot,’ she emphasized, tapping the head of her cane against his chest.

And didn’t he do just what he’d promised Mistress Pio. He found out who they were and where they were hiding the children. ‘And if you weren’t so pigheaded you would be helping him rout them out instead of badmouthing him and doing nothing but helping the ruffians from Bree.’ She thumped him again on his chest. ‘I can’t imagine a better friend to the Shire than someone who would put the Shire’s needs above the needs of his own family.’

She stepped back and shook her head at him. ‘Mistress Pio’s gone after them herself, you know. Her wee little babies in the hands of those miscreants.’ Her voice dropped low and the group leaned in closer to her last words. ‘One of the babies was hurt when it was taken. Cut. Its little drops of blood fell on the floor when they stole it away . . .’

The group was silent when Amaranthas had finished speaking. Millefoil had turned white as a sheet when she thought of the little ones she had held in her arms a few short hours ago. Trembling, she walked up to her husband and poked him hard in the ribs.

‘Halfred, you were dead wrong. There’s no time to apologize now. Get this business with the ransom demand for Frodo taken care of, then you find Mr. Mithadan, if he’s with them, and offer him your help.’ A certain steely note had come into her voice as she made her final demand.

‘You find those babies, Halfred and you get them back safe to the Inn.’

‘You, too,’ said Hyacinth firmly, pushing Filibert to stand next to his brother.

[ July 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

It was all Gilly could do to keep herself and the babies secure on the horse. When Shifty’s horse stumbled in a small hole in the road, she nearly fell off as her own mount stopped abruptly. ‘Think, Gilly, think. You’ve got to get hold of yourself. The babies and Mistress Piosenniel are depending on you now.’

She draped the little ones in front of her on the broad back of her horse. Shifty had gotten off his horse and was checking out the leg of his mount. Stoatie had pulled back with a curse and grabbed her reins, giving her a glaring look, daring her almost to try something.

‘Don’t give him any reason to hurt you or the twins,’ she told herself, sitting as meekly as she could. Gilly pulled a shawl from the basket they’d strapped on behind her, and tied it like a sling across her shoulders, securing it around her waist. She picked the babies up gently, one by one, and placed them in the sling. They would be close to her, and protected from the night air, kept warm by the heat of her own body. And best of all, she would have both hands free to guide the horse.

‘I wish I hadn’t left my little knife in my room!’ She reached down hopefully into her skirt pocket, but no familiar little lump met her hand. Only a wadded up piece of cloth, jammed hastily in there at some point this past evening. ‘What’s this,’ she wondered, fingering the good-sized folded square.

No time to find out, though. Shifty had remounted, declaring his horse to be good enough to get them to Bree.

‘Git movin’, you little Shire rat,’ he hissed at her, whacking her horse soundly on the rump. ‘Stoatie’s already halfway down the road ahead of us. He’ll have my head if he looks back and you and the brats ain’t behind ‘im!’

_____________________________________________

Child's post

By the time Cami and Maura cornered Frodo, he was already halfway down the path that led to the pond. Frodo saw the couple approaching from behind and halted uneasily under the beeches. His words of explanation were short and to the point: “I just couldn’t stand there doing nothing listening to everyone argue.”

Resisting her initial impulse to yank her friend back, Cami spluttered out her annoyance, “You shouldn’t have left without telling someone. It’s too dangerous! Ferny’s after you. Anyways, why did you come here?”

“You heard what Frodo-lad said. If I hand myself over, maybe Ferny’ll give us the children. Halfred's done nothing. Let me go now. I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Cami wrinkled her brow scowling, “No. Look what happened at my burrow. Ferny hates you. Anyways, how do we know he’ll do what he promised?”

She looked towards Maura and pleaded, “Please. Let’s leave....the three of us together. If we ride hard tonight, maybe we can pick up Pio’s track and help her free the twins.” Signs of worry showed clearly in Cami's eyes as she mulled over the prospect of Pio’s babies in the clutches of a lunatic like Stoatie.

Maura glanced first at his wife and then at Frodo choosing his words with care, “Cami’s right, Frodo. We can’t trust Ferny to stand by his word.”

“Then we can leave now?” Cami brightened.

Maura shook his head, “That won’t work. If Ferny doesn’t get what he came for, he’ll steal more children out of spite. All of Hobbiton will suffer.”

Maura looked grimly over, “You’re sure about what you said before? About Halfred coming through?”

Cami did not immediately respond; instead, she stood listening to the whistle of the late summer wind as it rustled through the overhanging foliage of the towering beeches. She’d come down this path and listened to these trees a thousand times before. The bleak silence of winter, the honeyed notes of springtime made by nesting birds, the gentle flutter of golden leaves floating down to earth on balmy autumn days…..she had seen and heard it all.

The first time had been when her parents had taken her on an outing by the pond. Much of Hobbiton had turned out that day. A hundred hobbits had spent the afternoon joking and chatting, bickering over this and that, wading in the shallows, and filling up their plates with goodies from platters and covered dishes that each family had provided. Not really too different from what had happened today at Bag-end. Whatever Halfred might think, a piece of her would always regard the Shire as home. She’d grown up here and knew these folk both for their good and bad.

She fixed her eyes on Maura and spoke with quiet assurance, “Yes, Halfred will come through. And he’ll bring a band with him.”

“And you Frodo? What do you say?”

Frodo did not answer for a moment as he stood remembering everything that had happened since his return to the Shire. Then he quietly added, “In all truthfulness, I don’t think folk have changed. They came through at the Scouring. They’ll come through again. Only,” and here he smiled wryly, “it may take Halfred a while to make up his mind.”

Maura nodded and grimaced, “Let’s just hope he doesn’t take too long. At least, this makes things easy. Halfred’s bound to come by the same road we did, since he can’t risk being seen by Ferny who's somewhere to the north. It will be easy to wait for him near the Inn.”

With that the three hobbits hurried back to the Dragon. When Halfred arrived just a few moments later, Cami hastily said goodbye to her husband and retreated to the common room, where she asked one of the lads to go out to the stables and saddle up her pony.

With rumors of recent events sweeping through town, half the guests at the Inn were wide awake and asking questions which Cami did her best to avoid. She quickly scurried down the hallway towards Pio’s room and stuffed the Elf’s healing herbs and potions into a satchel, slinging them onto her back. Sneaking inside the kitchen, she managed to weedle a few provisions out of Cook who was still up and about despite the late hour. When Cami told Cook she intended to go along to help rescue the twins, the older hobbit at first seemed surprised. But within a few moments she had changed her mind and come around full circle offering Cami a few words of encouragement, "You give those ruffians a hearty whack from me." Cook threw a few more muffins into a bag, propelling Cami out the door and extracting a firm promise from her to give the twins a one of Cook's special hugs as soon as the little ones were safely rescued.

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ July 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Pio's post - The troops deployed

Halfred fished for the red handkerchief in his back pocket, and wiped across his sweaty brow. He and the others had hammered out a plan for the proposed ransom. The ruffians had demanded a meeting just a little north of the Bywater Pool. There was a large outcropping of fieldstone there, in a small clearing. Low lying brush ringed the clearing on its eastern and southern edges. In the west, and extending north, a short distance from the clearing over a scrub grass terrain, was a dense copse of ash trees. It was here that the Shiriff and his men would hide while Frodo would come up from the Great East Road and enter the clearing from the south.

‘We’ll walk in quietly,’ said Halfred pointing to the crude map he’d drawn. Filibert, Milo and Hugo were by his side, while Sam, Maura, and Hob ringed the other three sides of the table that held the map.

The three Boffin brothers, Minto, Moro, and Milo crowded in, saying they would offer their help, too. Halfred looked up at their offer and welcomed them. 'Glad to have the Westfarthings finest bowmen, lads!' he said, motioning them in closer.

‘We should space ourselves out, like we do on the bird hunts,’ joined in Hob. ‘And watch closely that they haven’t left any of their band hiding in the woods,’ added Maura. ‘Good thinking,’ said Halfred, as he pointed to the ‘X’ where Frodo had been instructed to stop in the ransom note. ‘But If I were them, I would have my men here in these bushy areas. They’re closer to the center of the clearing than the trees – it would be easier to jump out and grab the victim from there.’

‘Right then,’ he said, noting how each of the men had their knives at hand, and the deputies carried long sharp-ended staves as well. ‘Let’s mount up on the ponies Sam and the others have lent us and make for the trees. Keep close, no talking.’

A half hour later and they were on the western edges of the stands of trees. The Hobbits dismounted and fanned out, keeping each other in sight as they entered in under the darkness of the trees. Silently they approached the trees standing closest to the clearing. It was empty, no sign of the kidnappers. Frodo would be due in the next quarter hour.

Hidden in the shadows, the men waited quietly for Halfred to give the signal.

_____________________________________________


Child's post:

Frodo had dutifully waited for Halfred to finish planning before heading off on his own. Afraid that he might be frisked, he'd decided not to carry any weapons, since these would only offer a convenient excuse for the ruffians to slay him on the spot. He'd slipped his sword to Maura right before the band's departure, asking him to keep it safe in the hopes that they would have a chance to ride out later to rescue the children.

As Halfred had requested, he lagged behind another quarter hour on the Great East Road, then headed north through the low lying brush that bordered the eastern side of the pond. Arriving at the place specified in the ransom note, he'd peered out in all directions but could see no sign of any activity. Frodo squatted down in the grass and waited for something to happen; then he stood up, cupping his hand to his ear. From some distance to his left, he could detect the sound of muffled footsteps, a rustling in the bushes that suggested someone far too loud and clumsy to be a Hobbit.

Mithadan's Post:

Ferny, Ratty and Mithadan hid themselves in a dark stand of trees about three miles from the spot where Frodo was to meet them. Their hiding place had been chosen carefully. It was well away from any road and the nearest farmhouse, still some ways away, was abandoned. No one saw them at all as they waited for the appointed time until the sound of horses approached from the north. Ferny waited tensely until the shadows approaching across the overgrown fields resolved themselves into full-sized horse bearing Men, not ponies carrying Hobbits.

So as they set out for the Bywater Pool, they numbered six Men. Four carried cudgels in their hands and long knives in their belts. Ferny wore an old sword in a scabbard and carried a club as well. He and Ratty bracketed Mithadan between them as they rode. Ferny laid his plans as they went. The four newcomers would fan out just above the low hill in which the Hobbit Holes were located. They would look out for any trouble and be prepared to rush in if need be. He, Ratty and Mithadan would seize Frodo and carry him off to the horses under the eye of their guards who would form up behind them.

They rode slowly up to the far side of the hill and tied off their horses in a stand of birch trees. From there, they walked slowly up the incline. Again, Ferny and Ratty bracketed Mithadan, though their eyes looked around them rather than at their companion. As they crested the hill, the guard spread out to stand where they could see down to the pool. They made no attempt to conceal themselves, trusting in the dark for cover.

Then Ferny and his companions descended down towards the pool through the underbrush. They could make out a single figure standing beside the water. Mithadan looked about and noted a number of places where archers or other friends might be concealed. When he caught a hint of movement to his left out of the corner of his eye, he smiled humorlessly. Then, mustering his skills in Osanwe, he reached out to Frodo. Ferny is coming. I am with him. You are not alone? There are others here to help us? The response came quickly. Thank you Mithadan. I am not alone. Mithadan loosened his sword in its sheath as the three Men approached the Hobbit...

_____________________________________________


Pio's post - Halfred

Halfred kept his eye on the spot where Frodo stood in the clearing. The night was quiet. The frogs at the Pool were normally in full voice at this time of night, but now were silent, their senses picking up on the presence of the Hobbits. He strained his eyes to see any sign of movement into the clearing. Nothing yet!

The three Boffin brothers approached the Shiriff, bows at ready, arrows knocked. 'We're going north a short ways,' Milo whispered the Halfred. We'll fan out just behind the small rise north of the pool. Minto and Moro and cover from the north, while I move to those trees on the eastern side. I should have a good shot at any in the clearing. I can see this stand from there, and I'll wait 'til I see you move from the cover of the trees.'

Halfred motioned them on and had just slumped back against the tree’s bark, cudgel in hand when he heard the sound of muffled footsteps and the movement of something moving through the low lying bushes - approaching from the thicket on the clearing’s eastern rim.

‘This is it, lads,’ he whispered to the two Hobbits nearest him. He raised his cudgel high, preparing to drop it at an opportune moment, as the signal to attack . . .

_____________________________________

[ July 14, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Mithadan's Post:

Ferny approached Frodo with a vicious smile upon his face. When he was several steps away, he drew his sword and laughed with delight. "Frodo Baggins," he chortled. "It's been quite some time since we last met now hasn't it? But now the tables are turned. Tell me, do you remember your old friend Bill Ferny after all these years?"

"I've not forgotten you," said Frodo quietly. "Nor have I forgotten your master. An ill-seed sown serves only to sprout more evil. Where are the children?"

"Oh, they're fine," said Ferny with a sneer. "They're in the loving care of my Old Stoatie. He won't harm them much without a word from me. At least I think he won't. Not that you should be concerned. You'll have enough to worry about soon. I've waited a long time to see you again and I intend to enjoy myself. Mithy, grab him!"

Mithadan drew his own blade and stepped forward. He grabbed the Hobbit by the collar and pulled him forward toward Ferny. The Man gloated over his prisoner for a moment, then spat at his feet. "Come along Shire-Rat," he said. "We're off!"

Frodo pulled against Mithadan's grip on his shirt. "No!" he cried. "First release the children!" Ferny stepped forward and slapped Frodo across the face. "That's the first installment," he shouted. "Now shut your mouth!"

Ferny turned and waved to his Men positioned upon the hill. "Come on down," he cried. "We got him!" Then Ferny led the way as they began walking towards the underbrush, followed by Mithadan and Ratty. Before they had gone a half dozen steps, a loud voice rang out in the clearing.

"Stop in the name of the Shire!"

[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

Falmar moved in a swift rhythm down the Great East Road. The few Hobbits abroad that late night stepped back in fear as the dark cloaked figure rode past them, bent low over the horse’s neck, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

An Elf, they cried as she rode past. Her visage was grim, they recalled, as they recounted the sight to their wives, and moonlight glinted on the blades she carried. In the wind of her passing, her long cloak flew behind her, and she swept her gaze along the road as if seeking something. They were certain, though, that her eyes swept over them as if they were nothing. That the great horse she rode would have run over them as if they were merely part of the road, so intent were the two of them on their prey.

‘She was hunting something, that’s for sure,’ said one of the Hobbits to his wife. And from the look on her face, it will be a very unpleasant meeting for the one she seeks.’ His wife, remembering the recent stories of the ruffians in the Shire and the children taken, pushed her reluctant husband out the door and sent him running to the office of the Watch, just west of Frogmorton.

‘The Bounders should be warned,’ she told him, shoving his cap back into his hand as she bustled him out of the burrow. ‘Hurry along now! Let the First Eastfarthing Troop know that there’s trouble afoot tonight with the Big Folks.’

Not wanting to encounter another fearful figure on the road, he twisted his cap in his hands and looked imploringly at his wife. ‘You get on down to the Shiriff’s place now, Benton Marshburrow. Let him know what you’ve seen. Tell him his sister does not fancy being murdered in her bed, while her lazy git of a brother snores in his!’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Merimas Bolger was up early making his first round of the stables at the Floating Log in the chilly dark before the day dawned. Everything seemed in order. The horses were still quiet, and the Inn just across the yard had only a few patrons out on early business. He could see one of kitchen help come out the back door to empty the last of the dishwater onto the pebbled area to the side of the step. Seeing him, she waved and went back in. Only the small welcome light to the side of the main door, and a single light in the common room shown into the darkness of early morn.

He stepped back into the stables and closed the doors securely. A soft rustling caused him to turn quickly, and he gasped as a tall, cloaked and hooded figure stepped toward him in the pale light afforded by the small open window to his right and the setting moon.

‘Merimas, I seek some information from you. A silver penny for you for your time, and two if you have what I need.’

The voice was familiar, and as the gloved hands reached up to throw back the hood, he grinned, as her face was revealed.

‘Mistress Piosenniel! I thought never to see you again. What brings you here, and at so late an hour.’ He frowned as his eyes took in how she was dressed and armed. Merimas peered round her, his eyes looking into the darkness behind her. ‘And where is Falmar, mistress? Shall I see to her?’

‘No time for that now, Merimas, perhaps when I return.’ She drew him near and told him what had happened. His eyes narrowed at the kidnapping of her wee ones, and he listened closely to what Rose had told her of the ruffian’s whereabouts.

The Bounders had been busy in the northern section of the Eastfarthing he told her – ever since the first kidnapping. There had been reports of Big Folk crossing over into the Shire in that area, and hints that they had some hidey-hole around the quarries near Scary. Patrols had been increased, and there had been no recent sightings or reports of any activity. It was believed by the Watch that the ruffians had withdrawn back somewhere around Bree.

‘And how do you know this,’ she asked. The direction she took from the Inn would depend on his answer. Merimas walked over to the door of his little room. Reaching just inside it, he pulled out a green cap that hung there on a peg, with a feather stuck in it. He put it on his head, and straightened up into an official looking posture.

‘When the business started with the kidnappings and the sightings of the Big Folk, many of us were asked to volunteer for the Watch. We meet weekly to keep everyone informed of what we’ve seen and heard. That’s how I know what I’ve just told you.’

Pio breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that many hours of searching had now been eliminated. ‘Have you heard where in Bree they have gone?’

‘I’m sorry, m’lady, but we have not. No news has recently come from Bree, and we’ve been reluctant to go poking our noses there.’ He thought for a moment, then nodded his head as if something had come to him. ‘You know, I have friend in Buckland, in Stock. He’s the hostler at the inn there – The Golden Perch. He would have more recent news as the Bucklanders have more to do with the folk in Bree-land than we do.’ He motioned her over to the desk that stood to the side of his room. ‘Here, let me write a note to him for you. His name is Tomlin, ‘Tommy’, Goold, and he’ll be staying there like I do here.’

He saw her out to the darkened yard, and held the horse’s reins as she mounted. She fished in the pouch at her belt for a penny, but he held up his hand and shook his head. ‘My pleasure,’ he said, ‘and my duty, too’ He jammed the cap on his head and waved her off. Once gone from sight, he turned and waking one of the sleeping ponies, galloped west, making for the Shiriff’s house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mithadan! I am bound for Bree. Where are they taking them?

No urging needed, Falmar flew down the road toward Buckland . . .

Mithadan's Post:

In the midst of all this, Piosenniel's voice appeared in Mithadan's head. He responded curtly. No time. Ferny's place south and east of the east gate of Bree. Then he returned his attention to the matters at hand.

[ July 02, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ July 08, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The ruffians moved swiftly over the gravely paths that wound through the hills north of The Water; clenched tightly in Stoatie's fist was the handle of a small pronged whip that he used to smack his horse's flanks urging him forward at a hard gallop. Stoatie also kept a close eye on Gilly registering every move she made. Whenever she threatened to lag too far behind, he reached over with his lash and snapped it across her horse's withers to be sure she kept up the pace. Although the men managed to overtake the village of Budge Ford in a little over three hours, mounting exhaustion forced them to divert off the path and lead the horses down to the stream so they could wade in and drink. All three animals stood panting in the stream, with the water rising close to their bellies and their sides heaving rhythmically in and out. The group would clearly not be able to continue this pace without stopping for a real rest.

"How much longer we got to go?" Shifty whined. "I'm achin' and hungry and half dead."

Stoatie lowered his voice and growled, "Shut yer trap. Anyways, we still gotta ways. It's another eight, nine hours to Bree."

"All the way to Bree?" Shifty interjected in an irritated voice. "But I thought....."

Stoatie cut him off. "You think too much fer your own good. Now shut yer trap or the hobbit rat will git some ideas."

Gilly was now sitting stiffly in her saddle, staring over at the ruffians with a look of undisguised disgust on her face.

"Nah," grumbled Shifty shrugging his shoulders. "She's just a dumb rat who don't know nothin'." With that the two men put their heads together and began to whisper, mulling over the details of the route.

Gilly patiently watched from the back of her horse, then slid down still holding the twins and tred warily over to the spot where the men were talking. The babies had stopped their demanding howls and were instead wimpering and looking out at the world with disaproving eyes that refused to focus. Gathering all her courage, Gilly siddled up to Stoatie and tugged insistently at his sleeve.

"Excuse me, but I hope your boss likes dead babies because that's what's going to happen soon."

"What ya talkin' about?" Stoatie glowered and peered over towards the brats.

"These babies haven't had a drop to drink for nine hours or more... "

"So what? Give 'em water!" Stoatie jerked his thumb towards the stream.

Gilly stubbornly shook her head. "Babies aren't like that. They need milk or juice. Plus I don't have any bottles. They can't drink without bottles."

The nursemaid turned away with a shrug, "It's your decision. If your boss doesn't mind dead babies, it's all the same to me. After all, one Big Folk is the same as another. I'm not going to stick my neck out." She looked around the glade and went to sit down in a patch of tall grass plucking off a few of the flowers and beginning to weave a chain of daisies.

She's lyin', Stoatie thought. But he wasn't sure. He knew very little about babies. And to tell the truth, these two looked a lot more wobbly than when he'd first seen them.

He glanced over to where the woman was seated. "So what d'ya expect me to do. I ain't got no cow or bottles out 'ere. And no hobbit is gonna welcome a man even if I was willin' to stop."

"That's not true," countered Gilly quietly, continuing to pluck daisies and carefully intertwine them. "The border towns like Stock or Rushy have been known to do business with the Big Folk for a long time, especially those that bring along a hobbit friend. The Bree merchants offload their goods there; their hobbit partners turn a pretty penny for hauling them into the Shire. If they were to see you with me, they'd just assume we were trading partners."

"If yer lyin', I'll kill you and the kids."

I'm not lying," responded Gilly as she steadily met his gaze. "We're only a few miles from Stock. The Golden Perch would have exactly what I need. But it's up to you, of course." She put her head down, stared intently at the pattern of her skirts, while continuing to braid her flowers.

"Come on Boss," Shifty pleaded. "I'm hungry as the blazes, and the horses look like they're keelin' over. Anyways, how many people will be up and about in the wee hour before sunrise?"

"All right," growled Stoatie. "But this is what we're gonna do. Shifty is gonna
stay outside hidin' with the boy brat. You make one funny move, and that's the end of 'im."

"Suit yourself," noted Gilly, casually shrugging her shoulders. "I'll just find him an extra bottle and bring it back with me."

With that, the band turned and headed for the Perch, making their way southward through the meadows of high grass. By the time they reached the outskirts of the tiny hamlet, it was still a good hour before dawn and everyone appeared to be asleep. Stoatie pulled his hooded cloak over his face and pushed open the door to the Inn. The nursemaid followed along behind holding the baby girl in the cradle of her arm and clutching the wicker handle of the diaper basket with her other hand.

[ July 02, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

The Inn was quiet, the yard deserted. Gilly looked up to where the chimney at the rear of the roof was. Good! There was a thin stream of smoke drifting up into the pale sky. If the cook here were anything like Cook at the Green Dragon, she would have been up already for several hours with her baking, and would just be settling in for a cup of strong tea before the morning rush began.

To her right, there was a single light in the stable, shining out through the open window. The hostler, too, would be up, going from stall to stall seeing to his charges. It gave her some hope that in the craziness of the last hours, the daily wheel of routine rolled on in the Shire.

Stoatie gripped her hard at the elbow, hissing low at her as they climbed the steps not to try anything funny. It was all she could do not to cry out at his hurtful touch, but she bit her lip and hugged the little girly tightly, remembering that the awful Shifty held her brother.

They entered the Common Room, and Gilly could feel Stoatie push up against her now, the sharp tip of his knife concealed in the folds of his cloak. He nodded toward the grey haired Hobbit who stood behind the bar, a clean white rag in one hand, polishing a tray of mugs. ‘Git over there and see if she’ll get you what you need. Get us some food, too, while you’re at it. Have her pack us a basket, so’s Shifty can eat, too.’

Stoatie nudged her with his knife, pushing her forward.

‘Your pardon, ma’am,’ said Gilly as she approached the woman, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. ‘My partner and I are bound for Deephallow, to trade some goods for mushrooms and Marish mead. We’ve been traveling a long while and we’re hungry.’

The woman looked out the front window of the Inn and raised an eyebrow slightly at the girl’s story. ‘Trade goods, eh?’ she thought to herself. ‘Well I wonder where their wagon is. The girl looks nervous, and that Man she’s with is a nasty piece of work, if I’ve ever seen one.’ She moved nearer the counter, putting her hand to the stout cudgel her husband kept under the bar.

The little girl whimpered, and Gilly bent her head to her, patting her on the back in an attempt to quiet her down. The woman’s face softened at the sight, though she kept one eye on Stoatie. ‘Here let me hold the wee babe! I’ve got a way with the little ones.’ She reached out for the girl, and Stoatie ground his teeth in irritation.

‘Asphodel Bracegirdle,’ said the woman, running her finger along the baby’s soft cheek. ‘My husband’s Rory, the Innkeeper.’ She looked at Gilly. ‘And you are?’ Stoatie cleared his throat at this question and glowered at Gilly from under his hood. ‘Rose,’ she stuttered, ‘Rose Goodchild and this is . . .’

The baby turned her head eagerly toward stroking finger, seeking it with her mouth. Asphodel, distracted, did not press further for Stoatie’s name. ‘Ah, you’re hungry little one. Where’s her bottle,’ she asked looking up at Gilly.

Gilly’s mind worked furiously. ‘We had an accident with the basket that held some of the supplies. It fell off the cart. The babies’ bottles broke.’ She smiled ingratiatingly at Asphodel. ‘Would you by any chance have a couple I could buy from you?’

Asphodel carried the baby toward the door into the kitchen. She propped it open with one foot and yelled in. ‘Salvia! We’ve got some hungry customers here. Bring ‘em a couple of plates. And those bottles we keep for the babies, warm some milk and fill ‘em up for the wee ones we’ve got visiting.’

Stoatie glared at her, and clenched his fists. He didn’t like that she had the baby, and now she was talking about two of ‘em. Gilly blanched, too, at the mention of two babies, and said she must be mistaken - it was just the little girl who needed the bottle.

‘Oh, is that so?’ said Asphodel, lifting her chin to nod at the door behind them. ‘Then who’s that?’

There stood Shifty in the doorway, looking dumbfounded at the squalling bundle he held at arms’ length in front of him. ‘I can’t stand it no more, boss!’ he whined, thrusting the screaming infant at Stoatie. ‘The kid won’t stop squawking and he’s wet to boot. Here! You take him!’ The vein at Stoatie’s temple throbbed viciously as he took in the situation and felt his control slowly slipping away.

Gilly ran between the two men and took the baby from Shifty. ‘Here, I’ll take care of him.’ Asphodel stepped up to her side. ‘You two gentlemen just take a seat and Salvia will have some food for you in just a moment. Rose, bring the baby over here, and we’ll get them both changed.

Stoatie kept his eye on the two women, and Gilly could see his hand on the hilt of his knife. She got out clean diapers and a little blanket to lay on the table that Asphodel indicated they would use. They were near to finishing up when Salvia blew in loudly from the kitchen with the plates of food and chatted up the two men. ‘Are you alright?’ whispered Asphodel. As she slipped a clean gown over the girl’s head.

‘Girl! You done with them babies yet?’ growled Stoatie, his mouth half full of ham and biscuit. ‘Get over here and get something to eat. We got to get going.’

‘I’m almost done!’ she called back to him. He and Shifty went back to stuffing their faces, and Gilly leaned in close to Asphodel as she scooped up the boy. ‘The name is Gilly,’ she whispered. ‘Someone will be looking for us. Give her this.’ She thrust the wadded up square of cloth into Asphodel’s hands. ‘And tell her Fern’ys place . . .’

Stoatie had gotten up from the table by then, suspicious of the two women with their heads together. ‘Shifty’s done,’ he said, ‘and so am I. We got business to be takin’ care of. Haul yourself and them out the door now.’ He grabbed the bottles of milk with leather nipples from the cook, and shoved them into the pockets of his cloak, and hurried Gilly out the door, Shifty trailing in his wake.

Shifty shoved her roughly up onto the horse’s back and thrust the babies at her. ‘Keep ‘em quiet,’ he threatened her. ‘I can’t stand another minute of one of them bawlin.’

She settled them in against her in her improvised sling, and propped the bottles for them to feed. ‘Please Pio,’ she whispered to herself, ‘Find us soon.’

Stoatie slapped her horse into a quick pace and took the lead, shouting at Shifty to make sure she kept up the pace . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Mithadan's post

Upon hearing Halfred's cry, Ferny spun around. Several Hobbits stepped out from the trees bordering the clearing and advanced upon the Men with bows at ready. Mithadan turned and, still holding Frodo, stepped forward until he was a pace away from Ratty.

Ferny laughed and waved his sword in the direction of the Hobbits. "Step away now!" he cried. "If you come any closer we'll kill your little friend Frodo! We're leaving and you'd best not follow us."

Halfred and his deputies fanned out in a line twenty paces from where Ferny stood and held their ground. From the far side of the clearing several more Hobbits stepped out from the trees and raised their bows.

"If they follow us, slit his throat Mithy," cried Ferny. "Let's go!"

Mithadan shifted his weight and turned his sword so that its edges were parallel to the ground. Then he leapt to the side, dragging Frodo with him and swung his blade at Ratty with strength fueled by the rage which had built up within him over the past few days. Ratty collapsed to the ground with his neck half severed. Mithadan spun, shoving Frodo behind him as he turned, and raised his sword to face Ferny.

"Traitor!" cried the ruffian.

"You are the traitor, Ferny," replied Mithadan quietly. "In the name of Elessar King of Gondor and the Reunited Kingdoms you are under arrest. Drop your blade!"

Ferny looked from Mithadan to the Hobbit archers and licked his lips nervously. Then, with a fey laugh, he lunged at Mithadan. Ferny fell with three arrows in his chest. Behind him, more bows twanged and two of the ruffians fell as well. The remaining two dropped their weapons and raised their hands.

Sam raced forward from the trees and hugged Frodo tightly before turning to Mithadan. "Thank you," he said. "You've been a good friend to The Shire."

"We're not done yet," said Mithadan grimly. "Stoat has taken Gilly and the twins to Ferny's plantation in Bree. Fosco and the other children are there as well. We must gather some strength of arms and be off before Stoat realizes that something has gone awry!"

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Trussed up like geese, ready for the spit, the two remaining ruffians were marched off to the Locks under the watchful eye of Filibert. Halfred had held a hurried conference with his brother, and after some brief argument, Filibert had seen the reasoning behind his brother’s request that he stay behind and act as Shiriff in his stead.

‘I’ll send round some lads with a wagon,’ said Filibert as he took charge of the prisoners. ‘We’ll take the dead ones up north a ways and put them in some unmarked hole in one of the empty fields. Fitting enough, I should think, that they feed the worms and enrich the soil they so despised.’ He mounted on his pony, and pulling the two men secured to his saddle by a long rope, stumbling along behind him, disappeared down the little path from the pool to the road.

Halfred rejoined the others in the group – Milo, Hugo, Sam, Hob, and the three Boffin brothers. They held a short discussion with Mithadan, then mounted up, and made their way, too, down to the road that headed east.

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

The sun had crested the Hithaeglir by the time Pio reached the eastern bounds and turned south to Stock. The well worn dirt road that lead to the Golden Perch was already starting its run of morning traffic. A farmer with a handcart filled with fresh vegetables, another with a pig and a basket of mushrooms made their way in the chill morning air to the Inn’s kitchen door.

Pio drew her hood forward, her face well hidden in its folds, and slumped wearily on the back of her mount, giving the impression of a tired traveler seeking the comforts of the Inn. There were no other riders near the stable as she entered the yard, urging Falmar toward the rear of the stable.

The stableman was drawing water for the horses from the pump when she spied him. Dismounting, she walked quietly up to him, clearing her throat as she neared to draw his attention. ‘May I help you, Miss?’ he asked, shading his eyes with his hand as he tried to see her face. She pushed back the hood and held out her hand with the note from Merimas.

‘Tomlin Goold, is it?’ she asked, placing the folded piece of paper in his hand.

‘Oh, aye,’ he returned, ‘though “Tommy” is what I prefer.’

He set down the bucket, and unfolded the message, scanning it quickly. Merimas had sent her, he read, asking that his good friend, Tommy, assist her as he could. As they walked back to the stable, Pio explained the urgency of her mission and asked for news concerning any rough looking Big Folk traveling through the area and in particular anything he knew about the kidnappers.

‘It’s strange you should ask that,’ he began, and proceeded to tell her of the odd visitors to the Inn just before dawn. Mistress Asphodel, the Innkeeper’s wife, had waked him up and sent him for the Shiriff, he said. ‘Come into the Inn and you can speak to her yourself.’

‘It’s almost as if she were expecting me,’ Pio thought, as the woman took her by the arm and led her to a secluded table. Asphodel pitched her voice low and gave Pio an accounting of what had gone on in the early hours. ‘She didn’t tell me who would be looking for her, but she said someone would. She said to make sure I told you her name was Gilly. And that it was “Ferny’s Place” . . . and, oh, this also.’ She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the folded cloth square. ‘The men were rough that she was with, and she seemed afraid of them, and asked me not to do anything to put her in more danger. She said that someone would come for her. I did nothing while she was there with them, but once they left I sent for the Shiriff to tell him what had happened.’

The Elf’s face was grim as she listened to the woman’s story, but softened as she stared at the square. Her clear grey eyes sough the Hobbit’s, a small spark of hope banked within. ‘The babies,’ she asked, her face serious once again. ‘Did you see them? Were they well?’ She steeled herself against the answer.

Asphodel’s mouth opened with a little ‘O’ of surprise as the truth registered in her mind. ‘You’re their Mother, aren’t you?’ She reached out her hand and placed it on Pio’s arm. ‘She’s taking good care of them. They’re fed, and warm and dry. I think it was for their sakes that she wanted no fuss made that might make the men angry.’

Pio stood to leave, thanking Asphodel for her help as she did so. ‘I’ll not keep you,’ said the Innkeeper’s wife, ‘but let me get you a small packet of food for your ride to Bree.’ Tommy had seen to Falmar while she talked to Asphodel. Watered and fed, wiped down, and her bridle readjusted, she shook her head as Pio approached, declaring herself ready to go. Tommy held the reins as Pio mounted, and Asphodel handed her up the packet of food. They both wished her well as she sped off; then, Asphodel sent Tommy back to the Shiriff’s. ‘Tell him one of the Fair Folk has come to the Inn. It was those kidnappers who passed through here early this morning. And it’s her babies they’ve taken this time.’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Falmar flew east, her hooves swallowing up the miles.

Little ones! she called reassuringly to them, I am coming for you. Sleep now. Stay quiet when you wake. Your ammë is near . . .

Mithadan! Ferny’s Place . . . where is it? Show me . . .

[piosenniel]

Child's post

From the moment they left the Golden Perch, the ruffians made good time for the remainder of the journey. Reaching the Brandywine at a deserted juncture, they'd picked up fresh steeds from one of Ferny's men who was waiting with a raft to ferry them across. The men breathed a sigh of relief to leave the Shire behind them with no one the wiser for their presence.

Even after they'd crossed the river, they were careful to stay off the main highway. Stoatie knew the territory well and managed to keep the group going steadily eastward using a maze of hidden paths which lay just north of the roadway. It was shortly after lunch when they approached the outskirts of Bree. Intent on getting back as soon as he could, Stoatie refused to listen to Gilly's pleas for another rest stop, smacking her sharply across the jaw when she refused to shut up. They skirted around outside the city's fortification and, within a short time, had arrived at the entrance to the Plantation, banging loudly on the gate and alerting the entire camp to their arrival.

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

At least they were done riding. Gilly was thankful for that. She and the babies had been shoved into a small cottage that stood at the far end of the plantation. Run down from the outside, it was hardly better on the inside. It was filthy, the windows all painted over and nailed shut, affording them no fresh air for circulation or any light save the single lantern that was on briefly at night, or so she had been told. Some sunlight filtered in through the thin layer of paint, but it only succeeded in making the interior seem gloomier and dirtier than if light had been allowed through.

Scattered about on the floor were several dirty mattresses, with only thin, raggedy blankets thrown on them. Two Hobbit children were sitting on one of the mattresses when she was roughly pushed in through the door, and they looked up at her, quickly averting their eyes as if she might have been sent to hurt them. On one of the other mattresses sat a small, dirty boy she was sure she knew. He looked up at her boldly, wiping his runny nose on the ragged sleeve of his shirt. She sat down next to him, and leaned in close, ‘Fosco?’

There was a noise at the door, someone turning the key and coming in. Fosco looked at Gilly and put his fingers to his lips. ‘Pretend you don’t know her when she comes in,’ he said to her, in case one of the other bad men is with her. ‘Who?’ whispered Gilly.

Bright light spilled in through the open door, partially blinding Gilly as it hit her eyes. Blinking a few time to clear her sight, she dared a look at the two Big Folk who entered. One was Stoatie, who glared at her as he spat on the floor. Gilly gasped when she recognized the other one. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and lowered her eyes to the the floor.

It was Mistress Piosenniel’s friend who had just sauntered in. Bird!

[piosenniel]

It is over, here. Tinged with tiredness and a sense of some relief the words broke in on her concentration as she headed south from Stock to cross at the ferry in Buckleberry.

Are you uninjured? she returned, knowing he would minimize it if he were. Still she could not feel any pain come from him.

Must go soon. Plans to be made. Here is the plantation . . . and here the cottage where the children and Bird are. Take care, beloved.

She fixed the clear image in her mind and rode on.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Gilly and Bird

A small flicker of hope sprang up, quickly shielded from the prying eyes of Stoatie and that despicable Shifty, who had followed in behind him, slamming the door and waking the twins. Their fussy cries built to a crescendo and Stoatie took a menacing step toward them, his hand at his knife.

‘Get ‘em, Boss!’ snickered Shifty. ‘Those brats are nothin’ but trouble for us anyways. Kill ‘em and dump ‘em on the dunghill.’ His lips creased his face in a nasty smirk as he looked at Gilly.

Bird slapped the knife from Stoatie’s hand and pushed him back hard against Shifty. ‘What’s the matter with you, you dumb sod!’ she screamed at him. She picked up one of the babies and held it up to his face. ‘This ugly little piece of Elf-flesh is our ticket out of here when the mother comes for them . . . and our heads too, I might add. She’s probably hot on your trail even now – or did one of you grow a brain between you and gave some thought to hiding your flight here?!’

Shifty looked warily at Stoatie. ‘By the One! I knew it!’ She gave Shifty a hard cuff on the ear. ‘Get us some milk for them, and make it quick. That’ll shut the little blighters up. The Shire rat here can feed ‘em.’ She glowered menacingly at Gilly, who cringed down as if Bird might decide to strike her.

‘You, too,’ growled Bird, shoving Stoatie out the door. He ran his eyes appraisingly over the small woman, an approving leer fixed on his face. ‘I ain’t got time for your calf-eyes now, Stoat. Get me someone to fetch me some water. We’re just about out of it. This place stinks and the other brats can clean it up a little so’s I can stand to be in here with them.’

Stoatie’s eyes swept about the interior of the shack and his nose crinkled in disgust as he took in the full flavor of the cottage. He winked at Bird then left the reeking room, bellowing for someone to get on it.

Bird crouched down quickly by Gilly, and nestled the baby in her arms. ‘Quickly now, before someone comes. Tell me all that you know and most important, were you able to leave word or a sign for Pio somewhere along your way of where they have taken you.’

Gilly filled her in as best she could, her knowledge, of course, limited only to what had happened to her and the twins. And yes, she had left something for Mistress Piosenniel in Buckland.

Bird listened closely, trying to figure when she could expect the arrival of the Elf. She kicked herself mentally for not polishing up those osanwë skills Pio had tried her best to teach her. At best the ability was sporadic – she never got the whole message anyone sent, and was never sure how much of hers was received. She rubbed her temples, and screwed up her face, eyes shut. Gilly was a little taken aback by the grotesque look on her face, but kept quiet.

Pio! . . . twins . . . Gilly . . . be ready . . .

Bird opened one bloodshot eye at Gilly, wincing in the dim light. She rubbed her brow and pointed to the basket that Gill had brought with her. ‘Any willow bark powder in there,’ she croaked.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Pio at the plantation

With the instructions from Mithadan held firmly in her mind, Pio dropped south from Buckland before heading east across the South Downs. Angling, then, a little north, she approached Ferny’s place from the south, and waited until the sun had once again dipped below the hills to the west before proceeding in the darkness. She left her horse hidden in a copse of trees and, tucking her cloak about her, went in silently to see how she might get to the cottage he had shown her.

Late yesterday she had gotten a brief message from Bird. It pierced the grim thoughts she had been having – the babies at that time were upset and frightened and had reached out for her. The thought that Bird was there comforted her somewhat. She could count on Bird to see to the safety of the twins and Gilly. But she dared not hope that could last long. She must get them out of there and soon.

The perimeter of the place was patrolled. Though, the guards did not seem all that alert, still there were a fair number of them. Many of which she could eliminate, she knew. But still she would be outnumbered. She withdrew back to where her mount was hidden.

Settling herself down to wait, she sent out three brief messages.

Bird! I am near and awaiting Mithadan.

Mithadan! There are too many here for me alone. Come quickly, bring aid. Will await your arrival.

Little ones she called more gently, your ammë is here. Sleep now. Soon I will come for you . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Stoatie rambled over to the main building in the compound, the place that Ferny made his home. The room was furnished in a comfortable fashion, complete with a large storage cabinet filled with all types of ale and beers, even some fine wines imported from the south. Peering inside and seeing that no one was there, Stoatie made himself at home in Ferny's easy chair and stuck his shabby boots up on the table. He picked up one of Ferny's pipes and filled it with a handful of the finest weed, tamping it down into the bowl. Stoatie leaned back in the chair and proceeded to send up a whole raft of smokerings. A hobbit would have deemed his rings rather wobbly, but Stoatie was pleased with his results.

Then he barked out orders to the sentry standing guard commanding him to hack off a large haunch of venison from the firepit and bring it in to him on a fine silver plate which they'd stolen from one of the hobbit homes. This was indeed the life. Stoatie lolled back relaxing in the Boss's headquarters with an entire caraffe of wine in one hand and a generous haunch of venison in the other. He wiped his greasy paws on his pants, but ignored the driblets running down his chin or the grease that was spilling over and congealing on the plate.

Pretty soon he'd be living like this every day. No cares, no worries, no more frantic heists. Just a feisty woman like Bird to keep things interesting. Ferny had promised him generous recompense if he could only get the twins, and he'd come through on his part of the bargain. Now it was Ferny's turn to do a little giving.

The venison settled heavily in his stomach; after finishing the entire caraffe of wine and an ale thrown in for good measure, Stoatie found his eyes growing heavier and heavier. Within less than an hour, he had drifted off to sleep dreaming of the day when he would be boss in his own house with a woman at his side responding to his every beck and call.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

With Cook's good wishes ringing in her ears, Cami had slipped out the back door expecting to head quietly on her own up to the rendezvous point where Halfred and Maura were taking on the thugs. She had not gotten further than a few feet from the gate when she heard the sound of a small band approaching. For a moment her heart lurched in her chest as she wondered if a gang of thugs had stayed behind in the Shire and was about to accost her. But a closer look at the group assuaged her fears.

They were all hobbits, each and every one of them, mostly lads but a few lasses thrown in for good measure. She caught a glimpse of her daughter Rose, Maura's sister Zira and her husband Ban, and even her own son Gamba. There were also a number of local hobbits who made their homes in Hobbiton and Bywater.

"We're coming with you," Merimac declared. "Word's spread all over what's happened to Miz Pio and Gilly and the babies. Miz Pio's been a good friend to us and we're determined to help. Plus Fosco and the other children as well..."

Cami looked sympathetically at Merimac. How hard these weeks must have been for him! The she glanced more warily around the larger group; each of them had at least remembered to bring a weapon and a pony. They were armed for battle, with an assortment of bows, swords, daggers, clubs and pitchforks. "This could be dangerous," she countered. "Very dangerous."

"We know that," a young lass piped in, "but we still want to come."

Cami looked over at Rose who walked her horse forward till she stood at the head of the group and then responded to her mother's unspoken question, "Believe me. This will be alright. Everyone here knows what they're doing. They've all been practicing with their weapons at the classes that Maura and I gave. Many of them have served on the watch."

All right, then," Cami relented. "But it will mean hard, fast riding. Nothing's going to happen to those twins if I can help it."

With that Cami whipped her horse around, and galloped down the path towards the spot on the map where Maura had told her to meet up with them. The band thundered on close behind with each rider straining his or her eyes for the first treasured glimpse of Halfred and his men.

Drawing closer to the designated spot, Cami cautioned the riders to slow their ponies and keep under cover staying as silent as they could. She asked Merimac to creep forward and try and find out what was happening. He disappeared into the thicket and reappeared a short time later, a broad grin on his face. "Frodo is safe. Just a twisted ankle so he had to head back to the Inn. Thank goodness, Ferby's bit the dust. None of the hobbits were seriously injured. Mithadan and Halfred were hoping for reinforcements so we've come just in time."

Cami felt her breath come easier. "Alright then, stay mounted. Merimac lead the way."

Within a moment they had mounted the ridge and could see clearly across the plain. Cami clicked her heels against her pony's side and urged him to gallop forward. At her first sight of Mithadan, she stood up in her stirrups calling out a heartfelt welcome, "Mithadan, thank goodness, you're alright. Look, these folk want to come with us and help." At this point, she nodded to Halfred.

"Halfred, Mithadan. Can we start tonight. Does anyone know where Pio is or where the children have been taken? What can we do to help?"

[ July 14, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

‘We’ll start now,’ returned Halfred to Cami’s question. She glanced up at Mithadan to confirm this statement and he nodded his head yes. ‘Mister Mithadan has laid out a plan for us, and having considered it, I think it will work well.’ Cami glance up again to the man standing behind the Shiriff, but he only raised his brows at this assessment of his strategy, then urged Halfred to carry on.

Halfred hunkered down in a patch of moonlight and picking up a short stick from the ground, drew a crude map of where they would be going. ‘We’ll keep to the Great East Road, here,’ he said, tracing a long line in the dirt. Once we reach Bree-land we’ll turn off here at the south gate of Bree and head south east.’

Mithadan crouched down beside the Shiriff and sketched in the outline of the plantation. ‘It’s a large plantation,’ he said. ‘The north gate, the main entrance is here. And down here in the southern end is the cottage where the children are kept.’ He looked eastward, his grey eyes cold in the moonlight. ‘There are a large number of men who work the plantation. We will need to draw them away from the southern end. That is where Piosenniel will be. And Bird also,’ he said speaking to Cami. ‘We need to give them enough time to get the children out and away.’

‘Yes,’ broke in Halfred, pointing to the main entrance. ‘And that’s where we come in, we need to raise a ruckus here and get them riled up enough to come after us. Some of us will do that while others of us hide in ambush to pick the Big Folk off.’

‘For the most part,’ added Mithadan, they are a band of lazy louts and cravens. Stoatie will push them on against us, and they will do his bidding. Once he is removed as their goad, their resistance will fade away rapidly.’ He stood up, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his blade, the fierce look on his face making his intention clear. Halfred opened his mouth to say something further. Thinking better of it, he whistled for Dumpling, his pony, and mounted up. ‘Let’s go then,’ he called out to the group. ‘Mount up! We’re bound for Bree.’

Down the road they flew, the clatter of the ponies’ hooves ringing loud on the dark road.

Piosenniel! We are riding east now. Will contact you when we have arrived . . .

[ July 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Himaran's post:


Lamplight covered the road in front of the stable, spilling out into the grass on its side. Several workers strode inside, not thinking to look into the bushes beside them. For behind one Frodo-lad lay, pressed down against the ground to avoid detection. After they were gone, the hobbit quietly left his hiding place and hurried inside. Looking around, he saw that no one was around except for several hobbits cleaning out one of the far stalls.

Earlier that day, Frodo-lad had made up his mind to follow the hobbits whom he had heard were going to rescue the twins. He had hidden near the stables for several hours, waiting for them to arrive, and had seen them ride off on their ponies. Now, he hoped to procure one for himself.

Soon finding a steed which suited him, the hobbit lifted the heavy saddle onto it with difficulty and tied a rope to it. Slowly leaving the building, he led the pony through the door and out onto the dusty road. The hobbit breathed a deep sigh of relief; he had not been spotted.

It took him several hours to catch up with the party, due to the darkness. To be sure, his father was angry that he had followed, but Mithadan took pity on Frodo-lad and took his side in the argument. Finally, it was agreed that he could stay with the group, as long as he was quiet and would not go wandering off like he did so often at home. Frodo-lad promised to obey the rules, and the party rode off down the road once again.

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Frodo came slowly up the steps of the Dragon with one hand fastened tightly on the bannister and the other clinging to a sturdy walking stick Maura had yanked down for him from the limb of a nearby beech. He had left his pony behind with Cami so she could use it to bring one of the children home.

The frustrating part was that, in a day or two, his ankle would be perfectly fine. But right now he'd only be in the way if he tried to ride along with the band and take part in the general assault on the plantation. There was certainly no way for him to wield a sword effectively when he could barely make it home by putting one foot in front of the other.

Despite the other hobbits' assurances that he had already done his share by going out on his own to face Ferny, Frodo felt deeply disappointed. He limped wearily inside the Inn up the corridor to the room which he and Bilbo shared. Standing in the hallway just outside the door, Frodo could make out the muffled sound of voices sparring angrily back and forth. Bilbo was ranting and fuming, his words underscored with tones of worry; the other voice in the room sounded vaguely familiar to Frodo, but it was hard to place.

The door was unlatched. Frodo turned the handle and walked inside, immediately going over to Bilbo to give him an affectionate hug. The frail figure stood up and glared. "I don't know whether to cry with tears of joy or give you a piece of my mind. Whatever got into your head? Everyone downstairs was talking about how you were going off by yourself to fight Ferny. I didn't know if you were alive or dead."

Frodo smiled gently and draped his arm over Bilbo's stooping shoulders, "Don't believe everything you hear. I didn't quite go off on my own. Halfred led his deputies and a band of volunteers over to the spot where Ferny had said I should go. They hid in the bushes and tall undergrowth, springing out at the last minute to attack. Mithadan was there, and he made sure I was safe."

"But you've hurt yourself," Bilbo countered pointing down at his nephew's leg.

"It's nothing. Just a sprain. Mithadan tossed me behind him for protection and I ended up falling down and twisted my ankle. Not a very noble story I'm afraid. I wanted to go on to help rescue the children but..." Frodo sighed and let the last idea go unfinished.

"Well, in any case you're safe." Bilbo responded with gruff affection. "And with no thanks to you, I might add." The old man turned to the corner and frowned at a willowy shaded figure who'd stood warily at the side of the room until this juncture.

Lorien sauntered up to Bilbo, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "You see. I told you. Everything's fine. There was no need to do anything."

Bilbo's face turned red; his veins bulged out at the side of his temple. He looked as though he might start shouting again when Frodo intervened, walking directly up to Lorien and speaking, "Whatever happened to me is not that important. But there are a band of hobbits out there risking their lives to try and save Pio's twins and the other children."

"Bilbo's right. You must do something. You brought us here. None of this might have happened except Ferny was still angry over what took place at the Scouring. It was my presence that stirred all this up. Bilbo and I trusted you. You owe something to those children and to those going to help them."

Lorien narrowed his eyes and peered back at the small hobbit, "Just what do you expect me to do? Get on a horse and fly over to Bree."

"I don't know. You can answer that better than I can. But you must do something."

Lorien drummed looked out the window and drummed his fingers against the window ledge. "I don't know. I'll think about it."

With that the tall figure walked out of the room and disappeared down the hallway in the direction of the back courtyard.



********************************************

It was still dark when Stoatie blearily opened his eyes and stared around the room. For a moment nothing came into focus; he could not remember where he was or why he had come here. Then it hit him. He was still closeted in Ferny's private lair where he'd been sampling his personal stock of liquor, enjoying the soft cushions of the easy chair, and chowing down on a generous haunch of venison.

Almost instinctively, Stoatie lurched to his feet and peered suspiciously around the room. If Boss had seen him lolling about here, he would not have been pleased. As much as Ferny relied on Old Stoatie, there was still a definite boundary between them. Boss was Boss, and Stoatie was Stoatie, and never the two should meet.

Stoatie stumbled out the door mumbling a question to one of the guards who was supposed to be on duty. "Where's Ferny? He should be here."

"Dunno'," muttered the man, shrugging his shoulders and reaching deep inside his pocket to retrieve a generous flask of ale which he promptly began to chug down.

This time Stoatie raised his voice, "What time is it? How long have I been here?"

The fellow groggily eyed him, then looked away and started to ramble off. Stoatie's response was immediate and angry. "I was talkin' to yuh. I want an answer."

This time he got an answer. "Dunno'. Boss ain't here. It's been a couple o'hours since you came in with the brats."

'A couple o' hours?' How could that be? Ferny was supposed to get into camp an hour after he and Shifty arrived. The Boss must have met a mishap on the road. Maybe his horse had thrown a shoe, and they'd stopped for help. Or maybe he'd gotten a chance to pull off another heist.

Still, Ferny's stomach felt queasy as he stared over at the main entrance, straining his eyes to try and catch a glimpse of Boss. But he could see absolutely nothing in the darkness except fading shadows and silence. For one uneasy moment, he remembered that Ferny had been riding home with Mithadan. Then he told himself to calm down. Nothing had gone wrong; he just had to be a little more patient. He yawned, stretched and tried to ignore the dull ache that had begun at the base of his neck and was now spreading and reverberating throughout his entire head. He decided to go to bed to catch a few minutes of sleep and see if his head stopped hurting so much. He would tell the men to wake him as soon as Ferny came riding through the gate.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

She had hidden Falmar well west of the southern edge of the plantation in a small depression behind a shrubby rise. Untethered, the horse awaited her call, her tail swishing against the small swarms of midges that pestered her when the breeze died down. Pio crept, under cover of darkness, nearer the edge of Ferny’s place, and now lay flattened against the ground in the sparse shadow of some low lying scrub near the fence.

There were no guards at present patrolling this section of the plantation perimeter, as far as she could see or hear. To the east of the cottage and slightly north was another small cottage. The windows to it were open, and she could see numerous shadows pass by between the lamp within and the window itself. Some of the men within were sleeping – the heavy, deep sleep that comes with a long day’s hard work. But most were up and about . . . and drinking, their muddled thoughts betraying their drunken state.

Pio worked her way along the wooden fence. She was thankful that Ferny had been so confident that no one would venture near his enterprise that he had put up the simple, wooden split-rail and post type of fence. It afforded her an unobstructed view of the yard. Nearing a view of the front end of the cottage, she froze as she heard the sound of heavy steps on the wooden porch and voices.

‘We’re havin’ a little get together up in Shifty’s cabin. Got us a keg of ale in from the Pony. You want to join us?’ The lewdness of the drunken man’s intentions came through clearly, and Pio stifled a laugh as he went tumbling over the porch railing and sprawled on the ground.

‘Out of here, you scurvy dog!’ came the strident tones of Bird, a wooden chair held out before her, its legs pointing menacingly at the downed man. ‘I oughta break this over your thick head. Who’s gonna watch the brats if I leave? The little Shire rats would be gone in the blink of an eye if I left ‘em alone for a minute.’ She glared down at the drunk. ‘Then who wants to tell Stoatie and Ferny their precious cargo has flown the coop?’ Bird heaved the chair down at the man as he scrambled to his feet, and watched as he staggered off, muttering a few remarks on her lineage.

Pio kept her head down as several more men wandered through the yard, one on his way to the sheds behind the cottage, the other drawing near to the fence to relieve himself. When the two had finished their business Pio raised her head again and pushed herself under the rails of the fence, careful to avoid the stinking puddle to her left. Approaching the side of the cottage nearest her, she tried the windows, but they were nailed shut from the outside.

Nothing to do but go in through the front door.

She crept up to the door and knocked softly on it, then retreated off to the side of the porch. The door to the cottage flew open, and a small shaft of light from the lantern within knifed into the darkness. Bird growled out a warning for whoever it was to get out and quit bothering her. ‘I’ll give you a taste of my stick if you come any closer,’ she hissed, slapping the stout stick on the porch railing.

‘Try it and I’ll cut it from your fingers before you can bring it down,’ came the low, familiar voice back to her. Startled, Bird lowered the stick, her eyes searching the shadows. ‘Pio?’ Bird shut the door to block the light, throwing the porch into darkness. ‘Yes, I am over here, at the end of the porch,’ came the whispered reply.

Pio climbed quickly up and over the railing, crouching down in the corner and pulling Bird down beside her. She quickly went over the plans to rescue all the children, assuring Bird that Mithadan and some Shire folk would be here soon, bringing mounts enough to get the children away. ‘You and Gilly must be ready to bring them out quickly once I come for you.’ She drew a knife from her boot. ‘Here, give this to her. Tell her to be ready to use it.’

The twins began to fuss as she spoke with Bird. And on impulse, she rose to go to them. But Bird grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back down. ‘Someone is coming,’ she hissed at her friend. ‘Stay down, I’ll see to it,’ said Bird. Pio drew her blade and held it in readiness.

‘Ya wouln’t come to the party, so we’ve brought it to you!’ The drunken voice of a different man spoke out from the yard, his words slurring. ‘Lock those brats in and come out here and join us for a round.’ She could see him wave an overflowing tankard in Bird’s direction. ‘And don’t tell me you need to watch them – they’ll be alright for a while . . . and besides, they’ll all be dead once Ferny gets back. We won’t need ‘em no more.’ A number of other soused agreements were thrown out by the others who had come, following the keg.

‘Let me just lock the door, then, Shifty’ replied Bird, seeming to acquiesce to the party mood. ‘ And let’s move the celebration further from the cottage. I don’t want the wailing from the little mongrels to spoil my drinking.’

Pio relaxed, sheathing her sword, and slipped off the side of the porch as they left. Glancing regretfully at the locked cottage, she made her way back to where she had hidden Falmar. Her fingers twitched at the thin loop of cord she had coiled at her belt. She had marked well the face and voice of the man who said the children would be dead. Shifty, Bird had called him . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She shook her dark thoughts from her, and reached out for the twins. Gilly must have calmed them – they slept fitfully, half on the edge of hunger and exhaustion. She fought the urge to steal only them away, leaving the others behind.

I am here, little ones.

She whispered softly to them, nudging their dreams to a pleasant place, rocking them gently in her thoughts . . .

[ July 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Mithadan chafed at the pace the group set. The ponies ridden by the Hobbits were stretched to their limit, and he knew it would be of no avail for him to urge their riders to push them more. It would be tomorrow night before they reached Bree. And once they were near it, it would be several more hours before they would come to Ferny’s plantation.

‘Another day’, he thought grimly, ‘that my children will be in the hands of Stoatie and his crew.’

Piosenniel! There are a large number of Hobbits who ride with me. It will be tomorrow night before we reach you.

Difficult as it was for him to concentrate as they rode along, still he hoped she had received his message, and the list of names of those who were heading east with him.

Surprise played on the features of his face as he heard her reply come back to him, strong and swift. Cami, who rode to one side of him, saw his eyes widen in the moonlight and heard his sudden sharp intake of breath.

‘Are you alright, Mithadan?’ she asked, concern creasing her brow. ‘Do we need to stop? Are you hurt?’

He waved his hand at her, indicating he needed nothing. He turned his attention away from her and listened closely to Pio as she spoke to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It will be best that you are here at night. Days are very busy – many men roaming the plantation, working at their appointed duties. At night, only a few guards wander about the northern fence, and they are lackadaisical at best.

Here by the cottage where the children are, I have only seen two guards, and they came and looked about in a haphazard manner, and did not return. I think they feel Bird can look after them, and leave them mostly to her. Though this end of the yard, which is far from Stoatie’s cottage, is often milling with men late into the night who are at one stage of inebriation or another

When you come – send three to me with their ponies and one extra for Gilly – that will be enough to get them all out. I am going now to speak again with Bird. And this time I will go in and see the babies.

Take care, beloved. We await you.’

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

It was very late at night before Bird staggered back to the cottage. In a few hours it would be dawn, and most of the men in Shifty’s cabin were dead drunk and collapsed on the floor, the sounds of their loud snores and grunts punctuating the stillness of the night.

Bird reached the door and fumbled at the lock with her key. Pio, had slid beneath the fence as she saw her friend returning, and gone silently up the stairs behind her, listening to the string of invective Bird hurled at the recalcitrant key.

‘Here. Let me try it for you.’ The low voice at her shoulder and the feel of the hand as it slid over hers to steady her grip made Bird gasp and twist away from the perceived assailant. Pio could see the thoughts forming in Bird’s ale-fuddled mind, and she grabbed Bird’s arm. ‘Open your eyes and look at me,’ she hissed, moving in closer. ‘Bank the fires, Bird. It won’t do to have the dragon spring out now.’

A certain level of clarity invaded the red rimmed eyes, and she growled back at Pio. ‘Two more seconds, Elf, and you woulda been toast!’ She cuffed Pio clumsily on her ear. ‘When will you ever learn? Don’t scare the shapechanger!’

By now Pio had the door unlocked, and opening it wide, dragged Bird into the dimly lit front room and locked it securely. ‘Sit down and collect your thoughts as best you can. I have heard from Mithadan, not long ago. Bird sat down on one of the straight back chairs at the table, and held her head in her hands. ‘And if you have anything for that headache you will have later today, best you be taking some soon.’

Pio outlined when Mithadan would arrive, and with how many Hobbits. She explained what he and the greater body of the group would do at the north entrance, and how he would send several Hobbits with ponies to help in the escape of the children. Bird’s face turned a pale shade of green at the mention of the little mounts and she looked beseechingly up at Pio.

‘Tell me you aren’t expecting me to ride one of those overgrown dogs back to the Shire! My gut is already lurching at the thought of it.’ Pio laughed at the expected remarks, saying she had hoped that Bird would become the jackdaw and spy out any who might pursue them. ‘Your plan is sounding better by the minute, Elf.’

Bird rose from her seat and searched the cupboards for a packet of headache powder, and finding one poured herself a mug of cool water to mix it in. Down it went in a gulp, followed by a mighty belch. Pio laughed quietly and shook her head, as the sour odor of old ale mixed with the sharp smell of willow bark powder perfumed the space between them.

The sound of the door to the back room opening, stopped her laughter cold, and she slid into the shadows at the corner of the room. Her blade, slipping easily from its sheath, was held lightly in her hand.

It was Gilly, she had heard the voices and come to see who it was. ‘I thought I heard a familiar laugh, Miz Bird,’ she said, peeking round the room. ‘But it must just have been a dream.’ Her eyes stopped on the dim figure in the shadows and she cried out in fear.

Pio stepped into the dim light, sheathing her sword, and motioned the frightened girl to her. ‘Not a dream, Gilly. I have just come to tell Bird that Mithadan and a great many of our friends from the Shire will be here tomorrow night, about this time. And that I will come to take all of you to safety.’ Gilly collapsed against Pio, sobbing silently. ‘I knew you would come.’

She drew back and sniffled a bit, wiping her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her dress. ‘You have been very brave, Gilly,’ said Pio, taking the Hobbit's hands in hers. ‘I got the information I needed from the Innkeeper at the Perch thanks to you.’ She plucked a folded square of cloth from her waistband, and held it out to Gilly. ‘And this, too, that you left for me.’

Pio tucked the square safely away again, and sitting down on one of the chairs drew the lass in closer. ‘I know, too, what a comfort you have been to the babies. They were depending on you, and you came through for them. I will always be in your debt for doing that for us.’

‘If you’ll just get us out of here, Mistress Piosenniel, I’ll consider the debt repaid a hundred times over.’ She straightened up her posture and gave another swipe at her eyes. ‘Sit right there. Let me get them for you.’

Gilly came back out, a sleepy eyed Fosco trailing along with her, one hand gripping firmly Gilly’s skirt. ‘Pio,’ he said, rubbing the sleepy dust from his eyes. ‘Has my mommy and daddy come to take me home?’ He looked about the room hopefully, his thin little fade falling when he did not see them. His lower lip quivered and a tear threatened at the corner of his eye.

Pio gathered him into her arms and spoke softly to him. ‘Can you be brave for one more day, Fosco?’ he nodded his head hesitantly at her question. ‘Your daddy is depending on you, Fosco. He is riding here with Mithadan and will be here tomorrow night, about this time. Can you be brave until then?’ The little Hobbit hugged her fiercely and nodded his head vigorously. ‘And be as quiet as a mouse about it. Say nothing about me or what I have told you until we come for you. The bad men must not know about us.’ Fosco’s solemn little face broke into a smile at the thought of having one over on the bad men, and he hugged her once again.

The babies, held in Gilly’s arms, stirred at the sound of their mother’s voice and the scent of her nearness. They cried out and she reached out for them, drawing them in close to her. Their sweet baby smell came through the layer of grime that covered them and their raggedy blanket, and she could hardly breathe for the intensity of feeling their presence brought her. She nursed them, letting them take their greedy fill of her, until drowsy with milk, they slipped into satisfied dreams. She looked at each little face for a long time, and kissed the corners of their lips. ‘Take them from me, Gilly,’ she said handing them one by one back to the Hobbit. ‘Before I cannot let them go.’

She stood, straightening her tunic about her, and drew on the cape she had thrown over the back of the chair. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said to them. ‘Until then, know I will be near, watching out for you as I can. She kissed the twins on the cheek and ruffled Fosco’s hair.

Bird blew out the lamp and opened the door, checking for any prying eyes. There were none, and she motioned Pio out the door, watching as she climbed over the side of the porch railing and disappeared into the darkness.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

The moon was already riding the western horizon when Pio made her way to the small rise west of Bird’s cottage. A long day was still ahead of her before the pieces would be in place to wipe the blight that was Ferny’s place from the countryside. Since she had not the power to make time run any faster, she opted to make good use of the time that lay before her.

In less than an hour, the sun had declared her presence and the compound to the east began to stir, readying itself for the new day. Men streamed from the small dormitories clustered in the northern section of the plantation, making their way to what she assumed was a dining hall. Smoke issued from two chimneys set in its southern end, and the smells of eggs and porridge and fried meats drifted out to her on the cool morning air. From that building the men went to the small sheds gathered in clusters about the large fields and took out the implements needed for the day.

Much of the area, she noted, was devoted to growing a broad-leaved crop. Pipe weed, she guessed, though she had never seen it except in its dried form. It seemed a labor intensive planting, even in the established fields. Men hoed and weeded about the plants, and there were numerous hands whose only job it seemed was to inspect each leaf and pick off any pests found on it. Pio wondered what promises Ferny had made to these men, that they would spend their day engaged in such mindless labor.

What most engaged her thought as she watched them stream out to the fields like so many ants, was the number of them that Ferny employed. By her count there were at least fifty men. Fifty! Mithadan and the Hobbits from the Shire numbered twenty four. Twenty six with her and Bird counted in. They were out numbered two to one, and from what she could see, there was no opportunity for her to do some discrete hunting and thin out the ruffian population. If Mithadan and some of the Hobbits were to face the bulk of the men at the north end, the outcome appeared grim.

She plucked a piece of tall grass from a nearby clump and sat chewing on the stalk. How could she swing the advantage their way . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun was warm on her face, and something was nudging her in the back when she woke from her little nap. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and patted Falmar between the ears as the horse nudged her once again. She was tired; she couldn’t remember when she had slept last. And she had woken just now from the strangest dream . . . one of those disconcerting fantasies whose various parts shimmer and fade if looked at too hard . . . leaving one feeling just a little on edge, on an uneven keel.

Pio smiled as she stretched to get the kinks from limbs that had lain too long in one position on the uneven ground. An idea had come to her, and with any luck it would even out the odds a bit. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, settling herself into a comfortable seated position on the ground. She had spoken to him before in this manner, and now she reached out to find the familiar pattern of thought that was his.

Lorien!

She could almost feel his eyes flash and his head snap up in irritation.

Piosenniel.

Not a question, only a simple acknowledgement that she had spoken, and in doing so, disturbed him. She put away the sudden consideration that perhaps being disturbed was the main function of the Vala. No need to antagonize him further.

I have found a way you can assist us in getting the children away from here safely. she continued.

Indeed! And that would be . . .?

The desire to pursue the reason why he did not know already what she wanted – wasn’t he a Vala, after all – was also put from her mind, at least for now, as she went on the detail the particulars of their plan for the rescue.

Tonight, as the men lay sleeping, I need you give them frightening and confusing dreams. Weaken their spirits, sap their strength, so that there is not much fight left in them when Mithadan and the Hobbits attack at the north gate. Even the odds a bit, so to speak.

She could almost sense him sigh as he marshaled his arguments against this action. Pio cut him off before he could tell them to her.

We need you to do this, Lorien. We are depending on you to help us in the way that you can. You are the Master of Dreams; this is a task you can do.

She heard the "but" form in his mind.

If you do not step in where you are needed, your entire purpose for being here will be for naught. Cami and Maura, Rose and Gamba, Zira and Ban will not be returning to the ages from which they came . . . They will be dead, Lorien. Struck down by Ferny’s men. And whatever thread of time their presence knit together, it will unravel . . . and as it unravels, it will take others with it. Surely that is not an end you wished to accomplish on your journey here?

She heard only silence from his end . . .

She shrugged her shoulders, and turned her gaze back to where the men now were working in the fields, calculating just how many she could take out if the need arose . . . her thoughts drifted back to her request, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he was welcome to prove her the fool for not ‘believing’ more strongly in the integrity of the Valar – as long as he would see this one thing done . . .

Amid the buzz of the clouds of little midges that swarmed about her head, determined to taste Elven blood for their afternoon meal, Pio at first did not hear the quiet words that played about the edges of her consciousness. Amused, the voice grew louder.

I said, a simple thank you will suffice, Piosenniel . . .

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post

Stoatie reluctantly opened one eye and then the other, yanked on his boots, and slipped a tattered shirt over his head while trying to ignore the pounding at the base of his neck and the queasy sensation in his stomach. Why hadn't the men awakened him when Boss returned? He'd been asleep for several hours.

He plodded over to the doorway and kicked it ajar barking out his displeasure. What he saw surprised him. The afternoon sun shone bright above his head, spilling its rays over onto the hard-baked earth and sending up sizzling waves of heat. Boss had apparently not arrived yet, even though several hours had passed. Used to the dreary recesses of the cabin with its windows securely boarded over, Stoatie instinctively blinked narrowing his eyes to shut out the blinding rays of light. Then he recovered and strode outside.

"Shifty!" he yelled beckoning one of the guards across the road. "Where's Boss? Still nothin'?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the thug responded, "Nuthin'. Not a sign of 'em anywhere."

Stoatie growled, "And what are the men doin'?"

"The usual. Drinkin', swearin', and gatherin' up weed in the fields. Sometimes stopin' to smoke it." Shifty's face surfaced with a wide grin.

Stoatie hated a situation like this. He was good at sneaking and killing but organizing men was far beyond his natural skills. Still, he had a feeling if Ferny had been here, he'd be keeping a closer eye on things.

He cursed his bad luck and mentally kicked himself, then turned around to threaten Shifty. "Git goin' now! You and me is gonna make the rounds of camp to make sure things are right. They'll be dickens to pay if Boss comes back and finds everyone smokin' weed and layin' down drunk!"

A little voice nagged insistently at the back of Stoatie's head. What would happen if Boss didn't come back? Maybe he'd gotten what he wanted and couldn't be bothered with Stoatie. Maybe Ferny had hightailed it with the money and jewels and left Stoatie with nothing at all.

Stoat tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword which he'd belted around his waist. Those brats would pay, he vowed. Every one of them. Those brats would pay for his misfortune. If Ferny didn't return by tomorrow morning, it was likely he was never coming back. Taking care of a plantation filled with pipeweed was not something that interested Stoatie in the slightest even if there were profits involved. In that case, if Boss had deserted him without his promised reward, he'd at least have a little fun with those caterwauling brats before he rode out for good and hauled along that feisty Bird.

He said nothing about this to Shifty, merely ordering him to bring the horses round so they could make the rounds of the fields and various senttry points. Then the two men mounted up and went out to have a look at how things were going with the rest of the gang.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

It took longer than anticipated to reach the outskirts of Bree-land. One of the ponies had thrown a shoe, and they had to stop at a small holding on the eastern edges of Buckland to find a replacement for the limping mount. By the time they reached the western border of Bree-land, it was late afternoon.

Mithadan turned them south, just where the Great East Road bordered the southern edge of Bree. And it was five hours later, or just on the cusp of darkness, when he halted the group and pointed out to them the sprawling lands of Ferny’s place to the south. ‘There’s the gate, there,’ he said, his pointing finger indicating the northern fence line and the entry way near its eastern end. ‘That’s where we’ll enter and draw their attention away from the cottage down there near the southwestern corner of the fence. That’s where Bird is and where Gilly and the children are being held.’

He led them to a little depression just north of Ferny’s place, where they could rest for a while, waiting for the night to grow darker, and the men to settle down for sleep. While the Hobbits dozed, Maura came to sit beside him. He asked Mithadan what some of the other buildings were, and Mithadan pointed out the dormitories, the armory, and Stoatie’s cottage.

‘Perhaps we should think about torching some of those buildings while we’re there,’ offered Maura. ‘Nothing like a little smoke and flames to cause confusion.’ Mithadan nodded his head in agreement, then pointed out once again the cottage where Stoatie lived. ‘We can burn them all to the ground, as far as I’m concerned. But that cottage there, and the weasel who lives in it . . . that one is my concern.’

They sat in silence for the short time it took the sky to turn a deep, inky black. Mithadan looked to the southwest, hoping to see a familiar figure there along the boundaries.

Piosenniel! We are here. Soon I will send some riders down to you and you can begin to take the children away. By the time they arrive, we will have come in by the north gate and our attack will have begun. Take the children west to the Greenway, near the South Downs. We will meet you there when we are done.

He felt her lips kiss his brow gently. We will await you there.

Then there was only the quiet of the night . . . and one by one, the torches in the outdoor sconces that lit each doorway in the compound were put out, as the men made ready for sleep and the restful pleasures of their dreams . . .

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Lorien

He sat with a bemused look on his face and a large mug of mulled wine in his hand. The little window of his room faced west, and he followed the course of Arien as she pushed the vessel of the sun below the rim of the world, leaving darkness in her wake. He took a large swig of his drink and rolled the flavorsome liquid about his mouth.

There were not many who actually called upon him for his services. Many cursed him, to be sure, when their dreams were filled with dark and dreadful things, but the ones whose dreams were filled with delight soon forgot them, and no words of thanks fell from their lips for the one who had sent them.

Lorien raised the mug to his lips, but they met no enticing brew. ‘Who drank it?’ he wondered, a soft hiccup punctuating the thought. His free hand reached out for the pitcher he had thought to bring up stairs with him and he poured himself another round of pleasure. ‘To Arda,’ he said, raising the mug to the darkening scene that spread out below his window.

‘And here’s to Piosenniel,’ he said to a passing cloud as it drifted across the yellow face of the moon. Swallowing her stiff-necked Elven pride, she had thanked him in advance – for services not yet rendered. That was worth two drinks in his book!

‘Well,’ he remarked to no one in particular, ‘best get on with the task she’s set me.’ A last mug of wine found its way down the Vala’s throat, as he tipped back in his chair and propped his long legs on the windowsill. His mind, a bit muzzy with the delights of the vine reached out east, seeking the men Pio had spoken of.

The gibbous moon shone in the window, as he wove a riot of dreams and phantasms for them. Its cold light cast his sharp features into a wolfish relief, and he smiled as the dreamers tossed and turned in their little beds without respite.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post

Stoatie watched with mounting trepidation as the familiar images flickered in and out, first hazy and then distinct until they finally solidified before his eyes. This is a dream, he reminded himself. Only a dream. But he had a strange premonition that this dream was far more significant and concrete than any he'd ever had.

His stomach lurched as he glimpsed the features of the land and road spilling out in front of him. He tried to will his body to stand still to stop what was happening, but his efforts were powerless before the inexorable chain of events that was about to play out again.

Step by step, his feet carried him down the path that had been so much a part of his childhood. He could see the threadbare hut at the end of the track with its broken windows and rotting boards and a crooked door that was always hanging half off its hinges. There was an awful ruckus going on inside. Crashing and banging and the sounds of a woman desperately pleading for mercy.

Stoatie ran down the dirt pathway, fingering the hilt of the old stiletto dagger he'd found that he always kept hidden in a leather pouch deep within his pocket to shield his body from the evil monster who lurked inside the hut. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. It seemed like an hour or two before he actually reached the door.

The bottom hinge cracked as the door pushed outward crashing down under the weight of the man who fell against it. Tall and bulky, his face a mask of rage, he ran out onto the grass still clenching an axe in his right hand, the edge of its blade tinted with red. The man wasn't looking where he was going and came barrelling into the boy, sending both of them sprawling onto the ground.

The two stood up and faced each other. "Git outta here, Richard. There's nothin' to go back to. Scram!" The man lifted the axe over the boy's small head and hesitated as if he wasn't sure whether or not he should bring it down and strike. Then, letting the wooden handle slip from his grasp, he thundered down the path and cut across the field vanishing into a thick wooded grove.

There were no sounds at all coming from the hut as Stoatie ran in through the door and flung himself at the foot of his mother's bed. The woman's body lay twisted and broken amid the bedclothes in a grotesque mockery of the human form; blood streamed down from a great gash at the base of her neck. Stoatie tried hard but could not stop the tears that cascaded down his dirty cheeks.

He leaned over and kissed her goodbye. His father had done it just like he'd warned the two of them a hundred times before. The boy berated himself. Why hadn't he been here with his dagger to protect against the beast? If he'd only had his weapon, this would never have happened to the one person whom he cared for.

Stoatie ran outside unable to stand the hut and its secrets any longer. He ran and ran until he threw his body onto a tiny hillock that faced towards the outside world. Rage and fear welled up in his heart. He pulled out the stiletto and stared at it. He was very conscious of what he was doing. He wished he had a cat or a rat, but there was no time to go looking for one of those. He crumpled his jacket up into a ball and drew his fist upwards with the blade still clenched in his hand. Then he brought it down. Once, twice, a whole sequence of sharp thrusts. Stoatie skewered his own jacket again and again as though it was a living thing he was intent on murdering. When he finally finished, he curled himself up into a hunched ball, his tears still coming in jagged gasps. Finally falling into a deeply troubled sleep, the young boy vowed that he would never stop skewering and killing until he managed to find his father and even the score.

[ July 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

When it was completely dark, and the lights in the cottages scattered about the plantation had dimmed and then gone out altogether, Pio crept closer to the fence line and waited. She reached out to listen to the men as they drifted off to sleep. Her mind reeled back from the contact, shielding itself from the writhing dreams that gripped them. Lorien had come through, and she was glad of it.

Mithadan reached out to tell her they had arrived, and were now going in. Cami, Merimac, Frodo-lad, Ruby and Buttercup had been sent with an extra horse for Gilly and should reach her soon. By the time they reach you, our attack should be well under way. And most of the men will have come north to fight against us. It should be safe for you to bring the children out and make your escape easily under cover of darkness.

Pio waited, her ears and eyes opened wide for any sight of her reinforcements.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mithadan pulled the key he had taken from Ferny and slid it into the big iron lock on the gate. The tumblers creaked as he turned the shank and engaged the bit. He stopped and listened carefully for any signs of trouble before opening the gate wide. Halfred and his two deputies were the first through the gate, followed by Mithadan and Maura.

Stoatie had set two guards near the gate for the night, worried when Ferny had not returned home. But they had indulged in the new shipment of ale from the Pony, and they slumped in the chairs they had brought out for themselves, their chins resting on their chests, snoring. Their eyes, beneath their lids, darted furtively from left to right, and they whimpered at times and cried out, raising their arms to cover their faces as if to protect themselves.

Halfred, Milo, and Hugo made short work of the sleeping men, knocking them soundly on the backs of their heads with the stout cudgels they wielded. Truth be told, the Hobbits much preferred to lay low their foe with a good thwacking, rather than run them through with a blade.

Soon all of the Hobbits had poured through the gate, and dividing themselves into the little groups they had decided on earlier in the evening, swarmed through the northern section of the compound – making mischief, causing confusion and panic. Wreaking destruction where they could, killing when they must.

The men were slow to respond – groggy and muddled as they pulled themselves from their cots and went to see who was causing such a ruckus. And many of them believed that this was simply a waking part to their bad dreams and sought a way to escape from any encounter.

Those who did pull themselves together for the fight were met with force. The Boffin Brothers bows were put to good use as their arrows flew with deadly accuracy to their intended targets. Sam and Hob waded in grimly with their thick, blackthorn walking sticks, and soon there were many men hobbling about whose heads and shins bore the lumps and bruises where the sticks had connected.

Maura led five of the local shire lads along one side of the compound, his sword driving back any who dared come against him. The five had pulled the oil-soaked-rag wrapped pitchy torches from their holders, and were now using the flints they’d brought to relight them. The sound of breaking glass and the panicked yelps of those who tried to stay hidden in the dormitories rang out in the darkness as the torches set bedding, and curtains, and wooden furniture ablaze. Rose and her Greenwood contingent led the assault on the opposite side of the yard, their blades and bows laying low many of those who crossed their path.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was aware that the others had fanned out as they had planned. But the greater part of Mithadan’s attention was focused elsewhere. Blade held in the ready position, he made his way carefully round to the east side of the plantation, to Stoatie’s cottage. Mistaking him for one of them, the harried men nodded to him as he approached and let him pass. Several he stopped, asking for the whereabouts of Stoatie. ‘Haven’t seen him,’ they all told him.

The ruffians seemed in a state of panic. Something other than the surprise of the armed Hobbits must have put the wind up them. Many were unarmed, their eyes wild. And many had no heart it seemed to join the fight. Escape drove them instead.

‘Just like that cowardly weasel to desert his ‘comrades’,’ snorted Mithadan, as he pushed his way past the fleeing throng, searching . . .

[ July 19, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

theWhiteLady's post

After Mithadan opened the gate, Rose had led Gamba, Ban and Zira around Ferny’s house towards the long dormitories. Running low, Rose focused first on the armory, placed right where Mithadan had described it to be. She worked quickly, grabbing a brand that was still smoldering from its holder and relit it with a piece of flint pulled from one of the small pockets of her dress. Several more torches were lit from the one and each thrown in the narrow windows of the armory; surveying her work, Rose noted with a small smile the warm glow of the fire as it caught on the wooden spears and other weapons. A series of muffled yells from inside the dormitories testified that the other hobbits had also met with success.

Gamba, Ban, and Zira were using their short swords like clubs; most of the men were unarmed and their well placed blows discouraged any serious attacks. The hobbits’ most imminent problem now seemed to be keeping the men from fleeing towards the children’s cottage. Rose glanced to the right, straining to see if the escape had yet been made, but her eyes landed instead upon a long, low building almost hidden beyond. A wicked grin lit her features and, knocking a bleary-eyed man - who looked rather as though he wasn’t sure if this wasn’t all just another nightmare - out of her way, Rose ran towards the building grabbing another torch on her way.

The building was, of course, used to dry pipeweed after cutting and it was stuffed full of long leaves hanging like curtains from the ceiling. Rose lit her torch and hurled it with all her might into the densest section; the pipeweed, as dry and fragile as tinder, burst into flame, and the little hobbit was forced to scramble away as flames stretched orange and red fingers to the bright stars. Rose returned to the dormitories and was delighted to see that Ferny’s men, seeing the bonfire shoot up from the southern side of the farm, assumed that end was also under attack and were now fleeing away from the fields. It was several days later before Rose learned her bonfire had spread to the fields and ended up destroying them and their crop completely.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami clicked her heels into the side of her mount and noiselessly urged the animal forward skirting along the open range that bordered the southwest side of the plantation. She would have preferred to have more cover than this but bushes and trees were few. The band of five was clearly silhouetted against the inky horizon. Fortunately for them, as they pulled their ponies up to the fence, Ferny's men were nowhere to be seen.

Merimac glanced back at the small herd of ponies that had been quietly following behind them, and whispered in Cami's direction, "Do we have enough? Are there enough for all the children, and Gilly?"

"I think so," she murmurred trying to keep count in her head. "Anyways, the youngest can always double up if we have to, and I'm sure Pio will be holding the babies. Let's just get in there and get them out."

Merimac nodded grimly. It was obvious that he was thinking about his son who'd been missing for so many weeks.

Cami nervously eyed the other members of her party. Merimac at least had experience as a member of the Hobbiton watch, but the others were rank newcomers. Ruby and Buttercup and Frodo-lad had never set foot outside the Shire and had certainly not wielded a weapon before. Not that she was in much better shape than they were. She looked down at the sword that hung awkwardly about her waist and fervently pleaded to all the powers in the heavens that she would not have to use it. Climbing up onto the bottom railing, Cami cupped her hands to her mouth and hooted softly into the night, hoping to attract Pio's attention.

Then she turned round to Frodo-lad and Buttercup. "You two stay here. The three of us will go and make sure everything's all right. When the children come up to the fence, get them mounted up as quickly as you can and pull back over there." Cami indicated a small copse of trees that was a few paces distant. "Then wait for Pio. She'll know where to go."

Turning to give a final hug to Frodo-lad, Cami sternly instructed him to listen to Buttercup and do whatever the older hobbit said; then she walked over to the fence with Ruby and Merimac and slid her body adroitly between the rails. A moment later, all three of the hobbits had slipped through to the other side. In the distance they could see Piosenniel standing and motioning to them to come quickly. Cami and Merrimac sprinted down the trail in the direction of the old shed with Ruby doggedly following a few steps behind.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Pio could smell the acrid smoke on the air, and see the flames of the burning wooden structures reach up high into the night sky. The small number of men who bunked in the southern area of the plantation had roused from their beds and grabbing their weapons made their way to the area of the main dormitories. She watched the guards halt in their haphazard patrol of the southern boundaries, their attention caught by the tumult of noise and flames. Then, they, too, headed north, moving quickly.

One of the figures who had come out of the cottage to the east of Bird’s did not go north to aid his fellows. Blade drawn, he picked his way toward the children’s cabin and up onto the porch. She watched as he rattled the door handle, unable to gain entrance, as Bird had locked it from the inside. He pounded on the door with the pommel of his sword, his voice loud and angry, demanding entrance, and was met only with silence from within. She could see him shake his upraised blade, and then leap over the railing at the edge of the porch seeking, as he landed, the window on the side of the cottage. Two blows to the glass and it shattered. And soon he was pulling his lanky body up to the window sill in an effort to enter.

He did not get the chance to do so.

She had come up behind him at a dead run. Holding her sword in a two handed grip, she delivered two hard cuts to the tendons just above his heels. The sharpness of her blade and the force of her swing drove the blade through the leather of his boots, severing the thick chords. He fell with a loud cry, and found he could no longer stand upright. He lay sprawled on the ground, blood welling into his boots. Above him in the dark, he could hear her speaking.

‘You threatened my children. Put them in danger. Hurt them.’

He whimpered saying it was not his fault, that Ferny had made him do it. She put the tip of her blade to his throat and silenced him with the sharp pressure of it.

‘I care not for your excuses.’

His eyes flew wide and he threw up his hands to try to push it from him. The blade slipped deeper. Sharp at first, the sensation dulled as the blood pumped from his dying form. His hands fell useless at his side.

Pio stepped over him, wiping the blood as she went, on the hem of her tunic.

'Bird!' she called out loudly. 'Gilly! Open up! We have come for you.'

From the corner of her eye she could see Cami and the others approach the fence with their ponies, and she motioned them to come quickly . . .

[ July 19, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

There were scuffling noises from inside the cottage of people moving about, near the door. Pio could hear the sounds of something heavy being pushed away from the door. Bird’s voice voice, muffled by the thick oak door, could be heard directing Gilly. ‘Put your shoulder to it, girl. It’s Pio out there.’ The scraping noises ceased and there came the sounds of a key being turned in the lock. Then the door was thrown open and Bird, her face drawn and grim, grabbed the Elf pulling her in to the front room.

‘Someone is trying to break in,’ said Bird hurriedly, pointing to the back room on the west side of the building. She and Gilly had pulled the children from it and barricaded the door with a chair jammed under the handle. Gilly gripped a hefty piece of firewood and stood ready to waylay the intruder should he break through their makeshift barrier. ‘He battered on the front door first and when we would not let him in,’ continued the Hobbit, ‘he must have gone round to that window on the west. We heard the sound of glass breaking in there as we bolted the door, but have heard nothing since.’

Pio could see the tired, frantic look on Gilly’s face, and how her arms trembled with fatigue and anger mixed with fear. She crouched down by Gilly and took the club from her, laying it on the floor. ‘He’s dead, Gilly. I have seen to it.’ Gilly collapsed into Pio’s arms as Bird breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the doorframe.

Cami and Ruby came running in the door just as Pio wiped the tears from Gilly’s face. ‘Bring the twins to me,’ she directed the girl, then get what you need to be on our way.

Bird crouched down and engulfed Cami in a great, fierce hug as she came through the door, which was returned in kind. The Hobbit stepped back then, the pleasure of seeing her old friend put aside for the moment, and said gently, ‘Bird, get the children gathered and let’s get out of here.’

Clapping three times, their pre-arranged signal, Bird called out to the little ones to come out from their hiding places. From behind the couch crept Tom, from Dwaling, just turned seven, and little Larkspur, his sister, well into her fifth year. Dirty and ragged, their solemn faces took in the scene before them. They glanced up at Bird, who took their little hands in a familiar way and whispered a few words of reassurance to them, then gave them over to the charge of Ruby.

From the rough cupboard that stood against the wall into the other bedroom, came Will, a sturdy eight year old from Budge Ford, crawling out on his hands and knees from the bottom compartment. He pulled himself into a low crouch, ready to run if he got the chance. Bird called his name telling him it was safe now, and to go stand with Ruby and the other two children.

Gilly uncovered the basket which held the twins, buried beneath a mound of tattered blankets and cast off clothes waiting to be mended. The babies, sensing danger, had kept quiet, awaiting the return of their mother. They fussed a little as the light from the lantern on the wall hit their eyes. Pio went quickly to them and gathered them close to her. Using one of the thin blankets, she fashioned a sling and put them both in it. They snuggled in, close against the comforting warmth of her body, and she placed her left hand comfortingly against them.

‘Is that all then?’ she asked, gripping her sword once again in her right hand, ‘Then let’s go!’

‘Wait,’ cried Cami, tugging at her sleeve and pointing to where Merimac sat dejected, his shoulders slumped, on one of the chairs . . .

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Nurumaiel's post

Merimac Muddyfoot burst into the hideout, scanning the room quickly. The one he was looking for was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled and more than a little fearful, he went into the adjoining rooms, but still no sign of life. Sitting down, he gathered his wits together, thinking back to days when they had all been home. What type of places had the little rascal hidden then? All types of places, that was the answer. If he became lost, he could be anywhere. There was no specific "type."

"Hallo, Daddy," a small, tired voice behind him said, and he felt a little hand slip into his. "Have you came to take me home now?"

Merimac turned, and a strangled sob burst from him. He pulled his son close to him, the tears streaming down his cheeks, clasping him tightly. Fosco relaxed in his father's strong arms, confident that he would be taken care of now. He knew he was safe now. There was nothing to fear.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

‘I told you I wouldn’t ride one of those ponies!’ came the high, twittering voice of the little jackdaw. Bird had been the last one out the door to the porch, and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Frodo-lad and Buttercup as they held the ponies on the other side of the fence. In a trice she had shed her human form and taken wing.

‘And I said you did not need to, as I recall.’ replied Pio, stopping to wipe off the indelicate gift that accompanied the arrival of the Bird to the crosspiece of her blade’s hilt. ‘Must you do that?’ she grumbled, as the black and white Bird landed now on her wrist, having been displaced as the Elf wiped the white gobbet from the hand that held the sword.

‘Birds do that,’ sniffed the jackdaw, and it seemed as if her little shoulders shrugged. ‘We are not responsible for our bodily functions!’ she humphed, fluffing her feathers and giving them a satisfied shake.

All but Cami stood open mouthed as Pio exchanged a few words with her feathered companion. Ruby shook her head in disbelief. Cook will never believe this, she thought to herself. The children, of course, were delighted – their little faces lighting up with wonder. They had always felt beneath Bird’s gruff exterior lurked a quite marvelous creature, and now they knew it to be true.

‘Fly ahead, if you will Bird, and check out the passage for us. We are bound for the angle of the Greenway and the South Downs – Andrath.’ Pio raised her arm upward and with a nod to her, the jackdaw took wing, flying west. ‘Quickly now!’ urged Pio, leading the small group across the yard to the waiting ponies.

Cami, holding tight to the hand of little Larkspur, was the last one off the porch, following close behind Merimac with Fosco, and Ruby herding Tom and Will before her. Pio had reached the fence, and climbed through the wide spaced posts, and had just turned round to grab the basket of baby things from Gilly and help her through, when something caught her eye.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of the group fleeing from the cottage had halted. Larkspur, slipping her hand from Cami’s grip, had run pell mell back to the porch. ‘My dolly!’ she cried, her little legs pumping hard as she sprinted for the open door with Cami in her wake. And there, just leaping on to the porch from the other side, knife in hand, was a nasty looking figure, a wild look in his eyes.

‘Where you goin’, you little Shire rat?!’ he yelled at her, grabbing her roughly by the arm and shaking her. She twisted in his grip, screaming for help, and kicked at him, landing a few solid whacks to his shins.

‘It’s Shifty!’ cried Gilly, pulling away from Pio’s grip. She ran toward the group to meet the three little boys Ruby had pushed toward her, pulling them toward the fence . . .

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post:

Cami's initial response was governed solely by instinct. Horrified to glimpse the small girl struggling in the grip of a maniacal demon with a dagger, she hurled her body in front of Shifty so that the thug would have to leap over her or knock her out of the way in order to make good his escape. With this split second diversion, Ruby and Merimac had an instant to dash over and position themselves at the rear of the porch.

Still reluctant to relinquish his coveted prize, and convinced he had nothing to fear, the rogue crammed the squalling bundle under his left arm and hostilely surveyed the three hobbits who were threatening to cut off his route of escape. Selecting Ruby as his most likely target, he instinctively thrust forward with his dagger, coming within a hair's breadth of the hobbit's shoulder before she adroitly pivotted and doubled back. He came at her a second time with his clenched fists and pummelled her over the edge of the porch.

Cami fumbled frantically at the belt about her waist until her fingers gripped the crosspiece of her sword. With a single smooth motion, she unsheathed the blade and drew it before her, darting in and out, vainly searching for a place where she could strike that would not endanger the squirming Larkspur. But except for a few glancing blows to the man's legs, she was unable to do any serious harm.

Intending to finish off the other two hobbits and take out his revenge on the child, Shifty hurled Larkspur's body down with a sickening thud, drew out his second dagger, and advanced towards Merimac with blades extended in both hands. Meri tried to parry and, despite the huge disparity in height and weight, matched Shifty stroke for stroke until the hobbit's sword found its mark, leaving a slash in the man's breeches and exposing a gash on his right hip.

Beside himself with anger, Shifty hurled his entire weight on top of the smaller hobbit, planning to hammer him into the ground. Without thinking of what she was doing, and, with all the might she possessed, Cami raced forward with her sword outstretched and struck at Shifty. She felt her blade go in easily, skewering the man in the back, as Meri recovered his balance and slipped harmlessly away. Shifty halted in mid-pace, lurched forward to one side and fell to the ground, the sound of his jagged breaths first slowing then replaced by an omenous silence.

In the few seconds in which all this had played out, Pio had raced back towards the cottage landing on the porch in a single bound. Running up to Larkspur, she cradled the child in her arms carefully examining her to make sure that she was no more than bruised and dazed. Ruby gave the Elf a weak grin already pulling herself up from the grass and limping off with Merimac back towards the fence.

Cami knelt unmoving beside the still body, unwilling or unable to pull out her sword from the ruffian's back. Her face was a mask of conflicting emotions. Relief, confusion, and sadness mingled together as she stared down at the blood that was pooling on the porch.

"He never saw me Pio. He never even saw me. I just ran him through the back. But he would have killed Larkspur. I know he would. And I don't understand why he hated us so much...."

_____________________________________________

Pio’s post

Pio pulled the sword from Shifty’s body and flung it in a high arc toward the burning fields. For a single moment it hung high over the flames, the blade catching the flickering red and orange lights that licked up to claim it. It fell, heavy hilt first into the cloud of smoke and ash, disappearing into darkness.

Shifty, she left lying there, he was nothing to her. But she bent down and drew Cami up, pulling her close to her and hurried her from the porch and to the fence with the waiting ponies just beyond. The others were waiting for her there. Merimac led the way with Fosco planted firmly on the saddle before him. Behind him came Frodo-lad, followed by Buttercup with Tom before her, then Ruby holding tight to Will. Gilly was next to last, cradling Larkspur close to her, safe in the folds of her cloak. The little girl whimpered for her dolly as they rode away from the cottage. But Gilly comforted her saying that she would see to making her a new one, and what did she think the new dolly should be called . . .

The Elf took Cami up to ride before her. The Hobbit was cold, and she shivered though the night was warm. Pio tied the makeshift sling about her friend and nestled the babies in. Cami’s arms went instinctively around the little ones, and Pio drew her cloak about all of them, holding them all close against her.

They rode in silence for a long time, the ponies picking their way carefully through the smoky terrain. At last the air about them grew clearer, and the myriad of stars that grace the summer’s night shone bright again. Cami pushed back the cloak and let the clean breeze wash over her.

‘Why did you throw the sword away, Pio? I may need it again,’ she said, pulling the cloak over the sleeping babies. For a long moment, only the sound of Falmar’s hooves clip clopping on the hard ground answered her. And she thought perhaps the Elf had not heard her question.

Pio shifted in the saddle, finding a more comfortable seat. ‘It did not fit your hand, Cami,’ came the soft reply, as the Elf bent her head close to the Hobbit. Cami’s brow furrowed in the darkness. ‘But that was the one we practiced with, you said it fit me fine.’

‘I was wrong, then wasn’t I. Too blind and stubborn to see your hand was not made for it.’ Pio shook her head at her own foolishness. ‘The sword isn’t your weapon, Cami. Your words and thoughts are. Set down with your pen on paper, they shine out in the darkness. Little beacons, little guides.’ She flexed her right hand, making a fisted grip. ‘The blade is my weapon, the pen and inkwell yours. And against the darkness both are needed.’

They rode on in silence once again, and Pio could feel Cami relax against her, the rhythm of the movement lulling her into a drowsy state. Pio put her left arm around her and held her securely on the saddle. The little brown head nodded as sleep claimed her. Pio bent to kiss her curly mop. ‘What a treasure you are, my friend . . .’

He would never have seen you. she thought to herself, thinking back on what Cami had said on the porch. Not even if you stood before him, in the clear light of day. No, he would never have seen you . . .

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post

When the warning bell first tolled over the camp, Stoatie pulled himself out of bed and made some feeble efforts to organize the ruffians' defenses. But it was apparent that things weren't going quite the way he'd planned. Peering through the shadows towards the chaos that reigned near the main entry gate, he'd caught a brief glimpse of Mithadan battling his way into the plantation with a contingent of hobbits fighting at his side.

His first reaction was disgust and disbelief. What kind of man would aid these miserable pint-sized runts? Certainly no one he knew. But, as the scene about him came into sharper focus, Stoatie acknowledged that Mithadan had not only played a critical role in this attack, but was likely responsible for engineering Ferny's disappearance. Boss had been captured or killed. There was no reason for Stoatie to stay here and die protecting a gang of men who meant absolutely nothing to him.

Pulling the edge of his hood over his face, he cautiously threaded his way back over pathways that were congested with combat and bloodshed. With all the tumult going on, he slipped unnoticed into Ferny's lair, kneeling on the floor and desperately fumbling in the dark to uncover the loose floorboard that he knew was there. A few moments of groping alerted him to the spot where the floor wobbled slightly. Stoatie grabbed hold of the end of the board, prying it up with a fireplace poker, and yanked the whole length free. Reaching inside the hole with both hands, he drew out his prize, a heavy locked box with gold and silver coins that Boss had used to pay the men and reimburse merchants for their supplies. Hearing the reassuring jangle of money inside, he tucked the coffer underneath his arm without a second glance and made his way outdoors. He raced to the stables through the growing clouds of smoke and fumes, hastily tossed a saddle over one of the horses and charged headlong out the gate.

Stoatie knew exactly where he wanted to go. There was an old hideout for Ferny's men tucked away in the South Downs. He frantically spurred his mount onward, charging through groups of combatants, and jumping over downed hayricks and farm equipment overturned in his path. Once he left the bloodiest part of the melee behind, he continued riding eastward at a hard gallop for a good ten minutes or more until he reached the eastern boundary of the plantation, an area that was uninhabited and framed with fields of pipeweed and scrub vegetation.

For some unknown reason, the fences here were higher than those surrounding the rest of the encampment; they towered a good seven feet in the air, strong and sturdily built so that it was impossible for a horse to jump over them or kick them down. Stoatie dug into his pocket pulling out a key to unlock the heavy iron gate, then relocked it securely, speedily riding south and east in the direction of the Downs.

[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

‘Damnable Elf!’ muttered the jackdaw as she flapped southwards. Already her wings were growing tired and herself irritable as she realized just how wide an area there was to be concerned about between Ferny’s place and Andrath. ‘Always ordering people about without so much as a by-your-leave. Never even asked if I wanted to scout out the route, just assumed I’d do it because she said it needed doing. And for that matter, she assumed I’d know where she meant me to go.’ Bird flew on, in the direction of the South Downs. From there she guessed she’d head west and try to locate the Greenway.

She coughed and sneezed, a dangerous thing in mid-flight for a bird. The smoke rising from the burning pipeweed fields made it difficult to breathe, and difficult to see. ‘And that’s another thing!’ she snorted, ticking off another on her list of aggravations from Pio. ‘Here I am flying about in the dark – the DARK, mind you. What am I supposed to do if one of the night hunters come after me. An owl! A nighthawk!’

Her litany of the rude abuses of friendship continued on as she flew through the dark sky. Soon she left the cloud of drifting smoke and could see more clearly. She cast a wary eye about for any birds of prey, prepared to assume her other winged shape despite the previous warning of Pio. Her little heart thudded faster than usual as she scanned the skies above and to her sides.

Nothing! Bird breathed a sigh of relief and cast a glance to the ground below her. ‘What’s this?’ she thought to herself, seeing a lone rider heading south. She watched him as he stopped in a little clearing, and fumbled with something tied at the back of his saddle. His eyes darted round the clearing as he dismounted and went about resecuring the good sized, jingling box he now held in his hands.

Dropping lower she perched on the branch of a nearby tree, her interest piqued by the man’s furtive actions and the sounds of clinking issuing from the box. Visions of coins, gold coins, starred her eyes. She ruffled her feathers and chirped at the thought of it. His ears caught the sound and his head whipped round to see who was making it. Bird gasped, nearly losing her grip on the branch.

‘Stoatie!’ That despicable man stood there in the moonlight, looking straight at her. She dropped quickly to the ground, behind the tree shielding her self from his gaze. ‘Naught but a stupid bird, Stoatie,’ she heard him say to himself. ‘Better calm down, man, yer getting too spooked.’ A sudden inspiration flamed up in her mind, and with a satisfied twitter she put it into action.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Imagine his surprise as the woman of his dreams, vile as they might be, came walking . . . no, sauntering . . . out toward him from the cover of the trees. And smiling, invitingly at him . . . never mind that her eyes were hard as glass as she looked him up and down.

‘So ya just couldn’t stay away, eh, lass?’ he crooned to her, smoothing his greasy hair behind his ears with his filthy hands. ‘I’ve got us a little something to keep us comfortable once we get away from these parts, my little dumpling.’ He gave her a lascivious wink, and walked toward her, his arms outstretched, intending to plant a claiming kiss on her luscious lips.

‘Yes,’ he heard her say, in a low and smoky voice. ‘Come to mama, big boy!’ She reached out her arms as he sprinted to cover the distance between them . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Imagine his surprise, as his expectant lips met the rough bark of a gnarled willow tree, and the arms he imagined would hold him in their warm clasp, whipped round him like a noose, the thick branches of the tree drawing him tight against the trunk . . . crushing him in an inescapable embrace . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And so it was that Bird, who had never wanted to ride a horse in the first place, found herself trotting along on the back of Stoatie’s mount. There was no way around it if she were to bring the strongbox along with her . . . and there was no way she was leaving the coins to be found by others . . . She turned the horse west, hoping she would meet someone to point her toward Andrath.

‘Damnable Elf!’ she muttered to herself, as the horse’s gait jostled her up and down. ‘This never would have happened if she’d stayed in Gondor . . .’

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Frustrated at not being able to find Stoatie, Mithadan made his way back toward the northern gate. The fields were burning, and Ferny’s men were in a rout. Bullies, at best, they had been deflated by the savage assault of the Hobbits, and leaderless, they had sunk quickly into a state of panic, seeking only to flee. Many had tried at first to put up a defense, and of those, many lay wounded and some dead on the cold ground of the compound.

Upon seeing him, Maura made his way to Mithadan’s side. ‘We must have given them enough time to get away with the children. There’s no use in staying any longer – just a greater chance of one of us being killed.’

Rose, her face dark with soot from the fires she and her little band had set, came running up when they saw the two men conferring. ‘We made it as far down as the southern end of the fields,’ she told them. ‘Saw only a few stragglers, and they were heading through to open fencing down there, eastward at a dead run. Looked like many had lost their weapons. And some,’ she laughed, her teeth showing white against her grimed face, ‘some hadn’t even bothered to pull on their boots or belts as they went running, holding their breeches up with their hands and hoping madly from foot to foot.’

‘Let’s round everyone one up then, and make our way to the meeting place,' said Mithadan, leaning on his sword, his face drawn and tired appearing. 'Rose take a head count of your group, and the both of you gather up the extra Shirelings we brought. I’ll get Halfred and his crew together. We’ll meet you just outside the north gate.’

An hour later, the last of the Shire band made it to where the others waited with the ponies. None of the Shirelings or Greenwood contingent had sustained any major injuries, just minor scrapes, and contusions, and the occasional cut whose flow had been stanched by a hastily tied piece of cloth.

Minto and Milo Boffin, were the very last to appear, with their brother Moro supported between them, limping. ‘Tripped over a small barrel in the dark,’ he explained, seeing the others looking at him. Minto chuckled, an incongruent sound after the grimness of their business this night. ‘Yes, and he stinks, too,’ he laughed, holding his nose. ‘Fell onto the barrel and stove it in, he did. Reeks of soured ale now!’

Rose snorted, catching the scent of him on the night’s breeze. She started to giggle, the stress of the battle bubbling out in this lighter manner. The infectious laughter rippled around the group, growing louder as each Hobbit joined in. Mithadan, himself chuckled, nodding his head in appreciation at the ingrained ability of Hobbits to pick a more positive side to a such a dark encounter as they had just gone through.

‘Let’s mount up then,’ he said, once the group had regained its composure. ‘We have a number of hours of riding yet to go before we meet up with the rest of our group.’ Mithadan’s gaze slid to where Moro was being pushed into the saddle by his brothers. His eyes glinted mischievously in the waning moonlight. ‘And you three,’ he called out, catching their attention as the last of them settled himself on his mount, ‘you ride at the rear, downwind of us!’

Minto and Milo looked at each other, and rode slightly ahead of their scented sibling. ‘Rear guard,’ they called back to him, ‘very important position for a man of your . . . umm . . . capability.’ ‘Hmmph!!’ came the curt response.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

It was twenty miles from the southern border of Ferny’s plantation to Andrath where the Greenway climbed through the long divide of the South Downs and made its way to The Great East Road. The ponies the Hobbits had brought with them were already tired from their hastened journey from the Shire to Ferny’s place, and their pace was slow. Merimac still led the way for the little group that had rescued the children with Fosco held close, drowsing now against his chest. And Pio plodded along at the end of the weary line, starting to feel a certain drowsiness herself.

At the top of the Downs she called a brief halt. There was a small, clear stream nearby, and the party refreshed themselves with its cold, sweet waters, slaking their thirst from the long ride and washing their faces of the soot and grime that had drifted their way as the fields burned. Cami knelt at the stream’s side and scrubbed her hands in the frigid waters, rubbing them until they were red, and nearly raw. Shifty’s blood had come off in the first washing, but still they felt unclean. It was not until Pio sent Ruby to lead her back to the group that she looked up from her hands remembering where she was.

A short rest later, a small snack from their meager supply of food to hold back the pangs of hunger, and they were mounting up once again, heading down to the Greenway. It was midmorning when they found the clearing where they would await Mithadan and the other Shire folk.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frodo-lad was the first to see the others as they rode in, their mounts moving slowly down from the hilly uplands in a long straggly line. He gave an excited shout, and stood pointing to where the first of the ponies had picked its way down to the grasslands where the clearing lay. ‘It’s my Da!’ he cried, mounting up on his pony, and heading at as fast a pace as the pony could muster, urged on by the nudging of the young lad’s heels against his flanks.

Soon they had ridden in together and dismounted, Frodo-lad grinning from ear to ear as Sam ruffled his hair. Others from the group that had ridden with Pio came running to hold the reins of the arriving horses as their riders climbed down wearily from their saddles. Greetings, and hugs, and questions flew, each group wanting to know how the other fared and what had gone on with them.

Mithadan was the last to ride in. He paused for a moment at the edge of the clearing, his eyes searching through the throng for the ones he sought. Pio stood up from where she sat, the babies in her arms, and watched him as he walked toward her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

‘Look, Father!’ Frodo-lad and Sam stood a little apart from the others, content in each others company, when they boy caught sight of Mithadan, pointing him out as he made his way to his family. Sam chuckled a bit, catching young Frodo by surprise. ‘Why are you laughing?’ he asked his father, a frown on his face.

‘It’s not like the old stories is it, son?’ he said watching the dusty, begrimed Man walk toward the Elf in her wayworn garb. ‘He would have been clad in some shining raiment, his face clean and handsome, his grey eyes flashing as he gazed on her. He would have move toward her with a certain measure of grace in his step.’ Sam’s eyes took in the Elf, and smiled again. ‘And she would be beautiful and fair, her shining hair bound back by some Elven fillet. Clothed in a gown of silver and white, she would have smiled at him, her eyes filled with a clear light, her laughter filling the air like music as he took her in his arms.’

Frodo-lad watched as Mithadan drew near to Piosenniel. Her eyes were on him, and he smiled at her, murmuring some words, then bent and kissed her lightly on the brow. His hand came up to trace the line of her jaw, then dropped to touch each of his children on their cheeks. Their little mouths turned toward his touch, seeking the source of it. He laughed in delight as their grey eyes met his, and he nestled them in his arms, speaking softly to them.

Sam pulled his son in closer against his side. ‘Old stories aside, this turned out just the way it should don’t you think, son?’

Before the boy could give an answer one way or the other, the sound of a horse galloping in at a quick pace caught their attention, and for a moment Sam’s hand went to his blade, thinking that someone might have followed them, meaning to get revenge.

His fears were laid to rest as Bird rode into view, her dark hair flying as Stoatie’s horse took the bit in his teeth and made for the sweet grass of the clearing. She slid off her unruly mount when he came to a halt, and laying her eyes on the happy family strode over to greet them.

‘So, these are the offspring, eh?’ she said, scooping the girl from her father’s arm. ‘Got a name yet, kid?’ Bird asked, looking close at the baby’s face with a critical eye. Her nose crinkled, and she drew back her head, handing the baby to Pio.

‘Here, uhm, Mom. You take her – I think she’s sprung a leak . . .’

[Mithadan]

Piosenniel took the bundled baby with a laugh. "Doesn't Auntie Bird want to change her after helping care for her the past few days?" she teased.

Mithadan, however, approached the horse that had carried Bird into the clearing. After examining it for a moment, he turned to the shapechanger with raised eyebrows. "Stoat?" he asked.

Bird smiled grimly. "He's been...squeezed out of the picture. You needn't concern yourself with him. He'll never trouble The Shire again."

Mithadan nodded with satisfaction. Then his attention turned to the strongbox tied to the horse's saddle. "And what have we here?" he asked.

Bird turned red and stammered. "Uh...nothing. Just something I happened to pick up in my travels."

Mithadan placed a hand on the side of the box and gave it a quick shake. A jingling noise came as its contents shifted. He gave a quiet laugh and looked sidewise at Piosenniel who smiled as well. With a nod, he turned to Bird and opened his arms wide and bowed. "Why Bird," he said. "It seems that you're twice a hero. First, for helping rescue the children and second for seizing Ferny's ill-gotten profits so that they can be distributed fairly!"

"What!" answered Bird. "Wait a minute! Distributed? Fairly? What does that mean?"

Mithadan waved Sam over to hear his words. "Surely the parents of the kidnapped Hobbits deserve some compensation. And the village of Bree will have some cleaning up to do after our raid. Surely Bree should receive some payment for that. It seems to me that Sam, as the Mayor, should see to the proper distribution of Ferny's money."

Sam took Bird's hand, which seemed suspiciously limp, and shook it vigorously. "Thank you, Bird!" he cried. "I'm sure that this can be put to good use!"

Bird ground her teeth and glared darkly at Mithadan. "Yes," she growled. "It should be put to good use."

Mithadan took her by the shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. "There you go!" he said loudly. Then he whispered so that no others could hear, "Your share of the profits from the last voyage of the Lonely Star awaits you in Gondor; enough gold to last you for some time even if you spend it freely...partner."

She perked up a bit at this, but gave Mithadan a none too gentle shove towards Piosenniel. "I'll remember this, 'Mithy'," she said. "And get your hands off me and put them where they belong. Pio, give this rogue a diaper. Its time he started acting like a responsible daddy."

[Child of the 7th Age]

After the two parties managed to join up at the designated spot, Cami's spirits revived as the company pushed westward under the bright rays of the mid-day sun. She encouraged her pony to trot alongside Maura's and chatted about this and that, pointing out some of the landmarks on the route as they continued their trek towards the Shire.

Cami became increasingly subdued as the Barrow-downs gave way to the rugged weald of Buckland, the territory where she and her mother had lived and worked so many years ago. As the roadway skirted along Buckland's northern border, she strained her eyes towards the Baranduin, its muddied waters bringing unexpected memories of the twisting maze of Brandybuck Hall and the cheerful hijinks of the families who resided there. An irrisistable urge assailed her to run off with Maura and leave both Tol Fuin and Greenwood behind, hiding amid the timbered hillsides of Buckland or even in the tangled groves of the Old Forest. Tightening and relaxing her grip on the reins, she grimly brought herself back to reality.

There's no time. Maura and I have no time for Buckland or anywhere else. I am wed, and the twins have been rescued. Lorien can glimpse even the depths of the Old Forest and would never permit us to stay even if the trees tolerated our presence. In any case, I would not desert my children.

Cami strained uncomfortably in her saddle, her troubled thoughts again turning back to the problems that awaited her upon returning to the community from which she had come. What Pio says is true. I am ill suited to bear a weapon. Greenwood is not the Shire, and there will be no Mithadan or Pio or Maura to shield me with their sword. Surely, Gandalf could have found a better protector for the hobbits of Numenor. Bone tired and discouraged, Cami said little for the remainder of the afternoon as her mount plodded forward; her thoughts and dreams remained locked tight inside even when Maura tried to coax them out.

Despite their success in subduing the ruffians and the deep satisfaction of securing the childrens' release, the others in the company soon found their own footsteps lagging. Too tired to push on any further, the band camped that evening near the Bridge of Stonebows nestling down into several mounds of hay lent to them by a friendly farmer whose homestead was not far from the spot where the old Bridge Inn used to stand.

Rising early in the morning to share a hearty breakfast with the farmer's family, they'd remounted their ponies and jogged westward at a leisurely pace. As they trotted along the road, they were surprised to discover groups of local folk coming out to meet them with friendly waves and gestures. The tale of their exploits, recounted in a much embellished form, had somehow swept the countryside and already gained them a number of admirers. Cami felt her flagging spirits rise as young hobbits came scampering down with their parents tagging behind, each of them bearing gifts of fruit or flowers.

Within two hours of leaving the bridge, the band arrived at Whitfurrows where the local mayor and other prominent residents awaited them, presenting Halfred with a suitably engraved plaque commending him for his foresight and astuteness in urging the assault against Ferny and Stoatie. Embellishing his speech with bucketfuls of florid prose, the Shirriff of Hobbiton and Bywater cheerfully responded, accepting the award without mentioning any of the help he'd gotten from the Big Folk. Her face red with embarassment, Cami peeped over towards Piosenniel and helplessly shrugged her shoulders, wishing that she could reach out and insert a plug in Halfred's mouth.

The finest moment of the day came shortly afterwards when Cotman and Lavinia of Budge Ford stepped forward to claim their dear son Will. Tears streamed down the parents' faces as they went round the circle and shook hands with all the rescuers, making a special point to thank Mithadan and Bird, then stopping to coo over Piosenniel and the twins.

Just as the band were about to head out on the Great East Road, Pio spied a small distant figure mounted on a pony who was galloping hard towards them and gesturing frantically in the air. Excited cries of "Da! We're here." soon went up from little Larkspur and her brother Tom as they spied their father who'd managed to come all the way down from Dwaling once he'd heard about the childrens' release. A few moments later, after handshakes and tears all around, the band again headed west, picking up their speed in order to make up for the extra time. It was early evening by the time Cami spied the sign of the Green Dragon. The band quickly broke up, with each member returning to their own family and place of residence. Cami dragged herself up the hallway of the Inn while Maura asked Cook if she could find them a room for the night since their own burrow had been totally destroyed. Too tired to know how she felt about anything, Cami dragged herself into bed and almost instantly fell into a deep slumber.

[piosenniel]

Gilly had put the babies to bed, and now she came dragging out to the front room where Bird and Mithadan sat, a bottle of wine, half-full on the small table between their chairs. She yawned leaning against the back of one of the empty chairs. The window was opened, the curtains drawn back, and the light from the small lamp on the table threw its flickering light out into the dark night beyond the window’s frame.

‘I’m going to bed, and you should, too,’ she told them. ‘Tomorrow is to be the naming day for the twins. Though why we have to hurry it so after all these days is beyond me.’ Bird and Mithadan looked at one another and said nothing – only bid her goodnight with their glasses raised to her, then fell to talking when she had left the room, their voices low.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pio drew her cloak about her as she stepped from the porch, gathering it tightly about her as proof against the late night’s breeze. In like manner she drew her thoughts about her, leaving no room for the prying minds of others. Less than two weeks ago her feet had taken this same path. Heavy with child then, she had sought escape from cares and concerns and gone walking beneath the fat, yellowed summer’s moon. Past The Pool and up the unnamed stream that emptied into it from the north. The moon had been full then lighting her way; now it was down to a mere quarter, and the shadows of the trees that stood along the way seemed thicker and pressed in on her.

He was there, again. Singing this time. Some singsongy tune threading thinly out into the darkness. She paused looking out at the great flat rock that sat in the midst of the rushing stream, and there at the northern tip of the rocky platform he sat as before, his legs dangling down into the foaming waters that crashed against the low promontory. For a moment it seemed his body grew less substantial and a light shone from within him. Then the image fell back in upon itself, and he became an old man dressed in grey robes pulled up above his knobby knees.

Come! he called to her. I’ve learned a delightful song since you’ve been gone.

“There is an inn, a merry old inn
Beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill.”

Pio took her place beside him on the rock, and listened as he sang the many verses of the song, his clear voice hitting each note exactly. She could tell he enjoyed the pictures the song conjured up, and she thought she caught a hint of laughter when he sang of the Man in the Moon getting tipsy.

“The Man in the Moon took another mug,
And then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
And dawn was in the air.”

The end of the song faded out at last and blended into the rushing sounds of the river. Lorien hummed quietly to himself for a few more moments as Pio sat in silence.

What have you come for, Piosenniel? he asked her finally. To ask a favor of me you know I cannot grant?

It was in my mind to do so, Lord Irmo. She acknowledged her want in an indifferent manner, as if she had given much consideration to it and found it untenable.

An what is in your mind now?

Only to say thank you for the aid you gave us. She drew her knees up under her chin and clasped her arms around her legs. The children are safe, and back with their families. You had a part in it. She looked him full in the face. Thank you.

Nothing else, Piosenniel?

Naught that you will grant me.

She stood, her face carefully neutral. Tears of frustration, tears of sadness, shone in her eyes. She wiped them away. She would spend no more tears or anger on this futile hope.

Her feet had just crossed back on the stepping stones from the rock to the stream’s bank when he spoke to her again. I forgot to sing you the very last verse.

She listened numbly to him, her feet leaden.

“The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
As the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
They all went back to bed.”

She left him to the reprise of his song, turning her weary steps back toward the Inn.

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

The door to their room at the Inn creaked slightly as Piosenniel slipped in just before dawn. She tiptoed toward the bed only to be greeted by his voice. "Did you speak with him?" Mithadan asked.

"Yes," she responded leadenly. He searched her face and read no hope there. Then he looked out the window, catching a glimpse of fair Earendil, before continuing. "He declined," he concluded with a quiet sigh.

"I did not ask," she responded. "He suggested that what I wished was not in his power to grant." Mithadan nodded, then stood. "Get some rest," he said. "Soon enough the sweetlings will be awake and making demands of you." He indicated the two swaddled forms resting in a basket beside the bed. She nodded wearily and settled atop the sheets. Mithadan waited a moment, then slipped out the door himself.

The route he took was nearly the same that Piosenniel had traversed just minutes before. The sun was rising above the green hills when he skirted the edge of the Pool and followed the river. He was still there, examining the brightening sky with ageless eyes. Mithadan.

Mithadan bowed. "My Lord," he answered. He stood silently for a moment contemplating the all too human looking figure before him. I cannot do what you wish. "I believe," responded Mithadan with care. "That you cannot. I do not doubt your words my Lord."

Lorien looked patiently at the Man. Then why have you come? "To remind you, my Lord," he answered. The Vala squinted at the Man in puzzlement. He continued. "To remind you what it felt like when you first assumed the frail form you now occupy. Do you recall the feeling when you drank at the party that night at the Inn? Pleasant enough at first, but then it felt as if you had no control over your steps. No doubt, you wondered what ailment had assailed you and perhaps even worried that your form might perish. I'm sure you recall that feeling; of lacking control. Then Piosenniel turned you away from the Inn, leaving you alone. Do you recall being alone?"

Lorien sat silently looking at Mithadan. A slight frown swept across his face. "My Lord," said Mithadan. "I only wished to remind you what it feels like to be mortal. Cami is mortal. So is Maura." Mithadan bowed again and turned away...

[piosenniel]

Child's post

As Earendil’s beacon of hope merged into the shadows of dawn, a solitary figure trudged wearily along the path that led to Bywater pond. Arriving at the burrow, Cami initiated her search of the bank that encircled the water, periodically halting to crouch amid the patches of grass and bracken and sift her fingers through the foliage. After an hour of scavenging in the vicinity of the burrow, she’d come up with nothing more than bits of smashed crockery, the charred remains of a mattress, unrecognizable clothing, and a few pillows with half their goose feathers missing.

Against Maura’s better judgment, Cami had stubbornly insisted on paying a final visit in hopes of salvaging a few of their belongings. That prospect now seemed remote even to Cami. She accepted her loss with equanimity; it was the other part that bothered her. Since coming to the Shire, she had spent much of her free time and all her resources hunting down tomes of hobbit history and genealogy, even contacting friends and distant kin to aid her in the task. While Lorien would never permit her to bring these back to Greenwood, she had promised to donate them to the Mathomhouse at Michel Delving where they would form the core of a genuine collection of Shire lore. It would be her one concrete contribution to her beloved birthplace, a tiny thing to compensate for Halfred’s condescending remarks and for all the dreams and visions that somehow she’d never found time to accomplish.

But Ferny had put an end to that. He and his men had savagely upended the shelves in their burrow, tossing the contents back and forth, and finally taking aim and hurling the volumes into the water. Everything was gone, even the two packets of books newly delivered from Tukborough and Buckland that Cami hadn’t even had a chance to open.

Overwhelmed with sadness for so much that was about to pass from her life, she retraced her steps to the Inn with obvious reluctance, hesitant to let go of even the ruins of this special place that she and Maura had called home. With each footstep she calculated the losses in her mind: her friends Piosenniel, Mithadan, and Bird; the twins whom she would never see grow to maturity; Sam and Frodo and Bilbo who’d known her since she was a child; even the green fields of the Shire itself. But all of these dwarfed before the one implacable reality that she and Maura would never hold each other again, or share words of love and encouragement. How was she to deal with all the problems in Greenwood, or try to help her own troubled sons reach out beyond their grief, when she herself was mired in the past?

Gazing back over her shoulder to register one final image in her mind, Cami continued walking towards the Inn, pushing open the gate that led into the rear courtyard and then to the kitchen itself. She waved a vacant good morning to Cook and turned down the corridor towards the small room where she and Maura were now staying. Coming inside the bedchamber, Cami stared over at her husband who had wakened and dressed and was already helping Holly into her clothes.

Rose knocked on the door with a breakfast tray for her parents, thinking that they might want to spend the morning together without so many prying eyes. Setting the tray down onto a chair, Rose stared blankly over in her mother's direction, thinking of a hundred questions she wanted to raise about what was going to happen next, but then hesitating to ask any of them when she saw the subdued look on Cami's face. She hugged her mother goodbye, promising to check in on her brothers and meet up with the rest of the family later that day at the twins' naming ceremony.

There was a strained interval as Cami awkwardly cleared off the night table to prepare a place for the two of them to eat, carefully positioning the platters of bacon and eggs by each setting. Maura pulled up a chair just opposite Cami who remained perched on the bed. Neither of them spoke as Cami focused intently on her plate, pushing food from one side to the other, while her husband stared absentmindedly out the window.

After a long, dead silence, Maura fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small packet placing it in front of her. Cami looked down at Andreth's journal with surprise written in her face, "But I thought this was lost when Ferny destroyed our burrow."

"No, I'd slipped it into my pocket to show Frodo at the party. It's been there ever since."

He paused and drew a short breath. "Cami, I want you to take this. Back home. Back to Greenwood. It is my gift to you. There's nothing inside that Lorien could possibly object to. Just some old history that everyone's forgotten."

She shook her head firmly, "No. You bring it yourself. Just bring it with you when you come."

"But we don't know that. I mean...." He stopped and looked at Cami beseechingly, not knowing how to continue.

"You'll come. I know you'll come," she murmurred with quiet obstinacy.

His fingers curled around the edge of the journal as if he was about to push it towards his wife. Then he thought better of it and picked the volume up from the table, slipping it deep into his pocket. Nodding his head, he gave her his promise, "Alright, Cami Goodchild Tuk. This book is yours. My gift to you. The next time we meet outside the Shire, whether in this world or some other, I will keep this beside me and fulfill my promise to deliver it to you." Then he gently kissed her grey-brown curls. The two sat down to eat laughing and chatting with each other as the cold fear of the unknown warmed for a moment under a promise born of estel .

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

‘Well, if you ask me,’ said Buttercup as she picked over the strawberries for the shortcake to be served later in the day at the party, ‘we should be hanging crepe and dressing in black.’ The berries, all minus their leafy caps, now, and any bad spots, sat in a colander on the sink drain board, glistening from their last rinsing.

‘Isn’t that the truth,’ threw in Ruby. ‘There should be smiles and laughter since the children were rescued, and folk congratulating each other on a job well done. And don’t you think the parents should be beaming at the prospect of introducing their childrens’ names to their friends?’

She washed the pile of yellow and green summer squashes, and brought them to the cutting table to be chopped into good sized chunks. Mistress Piosenniel was partial to an exotic dish she had eaten in her travels in the south. Wooden skewers with chunks of squash and onion wedges and little fat mushrooms, grilled over a bed of coals, slathered at their final turning with some spicy sweet sauce made from plums.

Ruby, not one to stray far from her plain Shire diet, had wrinkled her nose when Pio had asked for this during her pregnancy, but the finished product had a tantalizing smell – so much so, in fact, that she had tried a bite the first time she had made it. One bite had led to the entire skewer and one skewer led to two. She remembered that Pio had raised her brows at the diminished number that had finally reached her plate. This time she was determined to make a quantity of them, and eat her fill.

‘Well, you’ld think so,’ said Buttercup, washing mushrooms, and sorting them by size. She brought the bowl of them to the table and sat down with Ruby. The onions had already been washed and peeled and she cut them into wedges. Picking up a wooden skewer, she began to layer on the vegetables. ‘And what about Miss Cami and her new husband. There’s another pair that’s acting oddly. They’re newlyweds for goodness sake – they should be all blushes and holding hands and giggles and sly eyes. They’re as gloomy as mourners at a funeral.’

Ruby was just about to comment on this, when Cook sailed into the kitchen from the yard. Hob, a basket of wriggling river eels in his hands followed in behind her. ‘What are you two nattering on about?’ she asked, catching just the last of the conversation.’ She eyed the strawberries, and went to the pantry to pull out the flour and sugar and leavening. ‘I’m going to bake the shortcake rounds now. One of you needs to help Hob get the eels cleaned and skinned and cut into thin steaks. Buttercup, you can do that while Ruby finishes those skewers.’ Cook ever the organizer, tapped her fingers on the counter for a moment as she ticked off in her mind what needed to be done. ‘And Ruby, once you’re done with the skewers, make that dark sauce with the pinch of bead molasses in it that Mistress Piosenniel told us her Mister likes on the grilled eel.’ Cook dragged out her big green crockery mixing bowl and retrieved the sweet cream butter from the cold larder. Wooden spoon in hand, she started in on the shortcake dough.

Buttercup got up from her chair and leaned close to Ruby before going to help with Hob at the sink. ‘Big Folk certainly have some strange things they eat, don’t they?’ she whispered.

‘Aye, that they do,’ said Ruby, smiling at her friend’s ‘limited’ tastes. Her mind turned to thoughts of the grilled eel as she finished up the skewered vegetables. ‘I wonder if that will be as good as these are,’ she thought to herself, her mouth already watering in anticipation . . .

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

By late afternoon, the staff at the Inn had finished all the preparations for the party that was to take place that night. Prim, much to the grumbling of the afternoon customers, closed the Inn to business, and she and her ‘girls’ cleaned the Common Room from stem to stern. Hob was directed to recruit a few suitable lads, and they set up more tables on the greensward at the front of the Inn.

Hob scratched his head when Buttercup relayed the message to him on how many tables and chairs were to be set up. ‘I thought Mistress Piosenniel said these naming affairs were small – just limited to announcing them to the families on either side.’ He looked at the goings on in the Inn and considered the number of tables he had been instructed to set up in the yard. ‘Looks to me as if the whole of Hobbiton and Bywater are coming tonight.’

‘Well now, it’s not like Miz Pio and her Mister have any family here, is it?’ said Cook, who had come out with an armful of tablecloths for the buffet tables. ‘What sort of pitiful party would that be with them and Miz Cami and Miz Bird. They’re all in some sort of a funk as it is. It would be dreadful!’ She handed the cloths to Buttercup, instructing her which tables they were to be put on. ‘And besides,’ she continued, ‘the twins were born in the Inn and we’ve all grown fond of Miz Pio and Mister Mithadan. And didn’t they help us out when the children went missing?’ Hob and Buttercup nodded their heads in unison. ‘Well, then, we’ll all be their family for tonight, won’t we?’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Amaranthas was the first guest to arrive, and to be honest she had bullied the young lad set at the gate by Hob early in the afternoon into opening up for her. Caught between two sets of instructions, he hopped from foot to foot as he explained that he was to allow no one in. But Amaranthas had insisted, and had gone so far as to get down from her cart and come face to face with him. The prospect of going head to head with the Dragon persuaded him that he should open the gate for her, and he went so far as to help her up to her cart and lead Thistle through.

Later on in the evening, the door to the Inn was opened wide and the great brass dragon doorstop, now turned green from age, held it in place. The windows were all opened, and the gate at the end of the path now bore a sign saying “Welcome One and All”. Hobbits and their families streamed up the road – on foot, on pony, and by cart, laughing, and singing and jostling one another a good natured way, eager for the chance to celebrate. And it didn’t matter, really, what the purpose of the event was, it had been dark times for the Shire for a while, and now they intended to enjoy the return to more peaceful, pleasant times.

The tables were laden with platters of food, and one whole table had been devoted to sweets, cookies of all sorts mostly. And in the center several great pyramids of short cake rounds, dusted with sugar, surrounding a large bowl filled with sliced strawberries. Several kegs of ale and cider had been set up and tapped in the yard and a table for wine stood near them.

On the verandah a small band was playing music – two fiddlers, a fife, and one energetic young fellow on the concertina. Between plates of food, and spurred on by the free-flowing spirits, there were many rousing rounds of dance, especially among the young lads who flashed smiles at the lasses as they showed off their fancy steps.

Mithadan had gone out to greet the guests as they arrived. And looking much better than he had on his return from Bree, many commented. Many came up to him as he strolled about the yard, thanking him for what he’d done. Even Halfred, in his roundabout way, expressed his thanks, though if truth been known, Millefoil’s hand was hard on his back as she pushed him forward and nudged his words along. Mithadan was gracious, and returned the thanks in kind to the Shiriff for his assistance, all the while flashing a toothy grin at the woman behind him. Others came up to shake his hand, and congratulate him on becoming a family man now. He smiled and thanked them, and ducked their questions when they asked if there were more in the planning.

Pio came out once the party was well under way, bring the twins with her, one to each arm. She ate and danced and spoke with her numerous well-wishers, and showed the babies off to all who asked. Her face was composed, and as fair as ever, but there were dark smudges beneath her eyes if one looked closely, her lids were red rimmed from the tears that had escaped them, and her smile did not flash out as often as it was wont to do, nor was there laughter. She, too, was gracious, in her own way, but some remarked she seemed reserved – that now there seemed a barrier between her and the events that swirled around her.

[ August 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Isil rose into the bright sea of stars, resting just barely above the horizon. The little lamps strung from the trees and eaves of the Inn had been lit, their soft light blending into the pale light of the waning quarter moon. Little jewels . . . they pushed back the shadows.

The party had wound down, become a quieter tableau. Hobbits sat in small groups talking, laughing, telling stories. Smoke from their pipes drifted up into the darkness, the full heady scents lingering in the air. The rise and fall of the voices hushed as Mithadan stood, and taking Piosenniel by the hand drew her into the center of the gathering. Each of them held a little one, nestled in the crook of their arm. She smiled at him as he bent to whisper a few words in her ear, and kiss her cheek. All eyes were on him as he turned round, smiling at the folk who ringed his family. Holding his son securely in his hands, he held the little one up for all to see.

‘This is my son, Isilmir, named for a forebear of my family, one of the Faithful who escaped the fall of Númenor, and sailed to the safety of Middle-earth. Bid him welcome, if you will, friends.’

Hands reached out to take the baby from him, and on a great wave of arms the little one was passed from one to another, the murmur of his name, rising and falling, before and behind.

‘And this is my daughter, Gilwen, Star-maiden – her name reflecting the ship that bore such unlikely companions as we were through dark waters and into the light of true friendship. Bid her welcome, if you will, friends.’

Again the sea of hands reached out for her. Pio blinked her eyes and gasped, as this time it seemed unseen hands were also there, from those left behind. And there, just at the edges of her vision, it seemed a pair of golden eyes blinked once or twice, and there in the darkness a brief, toothy smile of approval winked into being and was gone.

At long last, Gilwen and Isilmir were brought back to their parents. The rise and fall of conversation picked up, as congratulations were offered and talk turned to the namings of babies that had occurred in the various speakers’ families. Mithadan was clapped on the back, and offered a pipe and pouch, and saluted on his fine family.

Pio sat on the steps of the Inn, a little one on each knee. Their grey eyes regarded her in a serious manner as she watched the reflections of the sea of stars swim on their surfaces. ‘Isilmir,’ she whispered, drawing her son’s attention as she kissed the little fingers he had wrapped tightly round her own. ‘My little jewel.’ She bent to kiss him on his brow. Fëanen, I name you. Spirit of Water. She turned to her daughter, calling her softly as she kissed her, also. ‘And you, Gilwen, my precious gift.’ Fëasolmë, I name you. Spirit of the Wave. She smiled at both of them. Welcome . . . welcome, indeed . . .

Too soon, they grew tired, announcing their needs with insistent cries. Excusing herself, Pio took them to their room and nursed them to sleep. Gilly had followed after her, and took each as they finished to lay in their cradle. She smoothed the dark hair on each little head, whispering their names to herself and to them. ‘Sleep well,’ she murmured to them, ‘I will be here when you wake.’

Pio drew her from the room and back out to the yard. Music was playing softly, and Prim brought out the last of the sweet, Dorwinion wine. ‘Saved the best for last!’ she laughed. ‘To you!’ she said, raising her glass to Pio, and was echoed by Gilly as she raised hers. Pio smiled, holding her glass high, and nodded back at them.

‘To life,’ she said quietly, clinking her glass against both of theirs. ‘To wondrous life . . .’

[ August 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Maura instinctively gripped Cami's hand in his as the couple watched Mithadan take each of the children in turn, cradle them in his arms, and speak the names by which they would be called. Isilmir and Gilwen....fine names indeed. Fine names for a son and a daughter who would surely bring joy to their kin as they grew up under the protective shield of their parents' overarching love.

His wife's head was nestled softly against his shoulder, almost like a little child herself. She looked so terribly fragile, so small and vulnerable to everything that was happening that day. He wished he could take her in his arms and make the pain disappear just as his own mother had done for him whenever he had encountered some minor hurt or disappointment.

But his wife was no child. She was a woman whose brown hair was streaked with silver, who had known her share of grief and toil, and had voluntarily left everything she knew to journey on the Star and follow her people on their migration homeward. Only now the voyage was ended. Truly ended. Cami had given her word as Gandalf had required, and, against all expectations, the hobbits had found a home. Only now, personal miracles were in short supply. No, he could not shield her.

In the midst of these reflections, Maura felt a slight stirring at his elbow and glanced downward. "Are you alright?" he whispered intently in Cami's ear.

His wife nodded uneasily, her eyes brimming with tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall. "Maura, could you make sure the children are put to bed? I'll be back soon. I promise."

Maura nodded mutely as he watched Cami vanish down the hallway where Pio had taken the twins a short while before. That evening, he would have agreed to almost anything she requested. He collected Holly in his arms, escorted Rose back to her chamber, and then led Gamba and his brothers over to their quarters in the stables.

When Maura approached Asta for a final goodnight and stopped to tuck him into bed, the lad watched him with wary eyes and tremulously murmurred, "Will we be a family... like you said, or are you going away?"

The words cut like a knife. Concealing his own feelings of indecision and doubt, the older hobbit spoke in an even voice and ran his fingers through Asta's towseled curls. "I do not know if I can come, but your mother and I are trying. Whether I am there or not, I love you." Maura tugged the covers up and tucked in each of the younger boys with a final kiss or other gesture of affection.

Gamba, who was the last in line, paced the floor uneasily, finally going over to a chair by the open window where he sat down and stared at the Inn. Maura had never found the older boy easy to deal with, but over the months he had earned Gamba's grudging respect. But now the lad sat stiff as a ramrod refusing to budge or soften the goodbyes with an embrace or kind word; he tossed out a curt retort encapsulated in bitterness, "You'll go away, just like the others."

There was no reason to ask for further explanation. Maura had heard enough tales about the Star and Numenor to understand exactly what the older lad had meant. Maura stood up and walked over to the stable door, unlatching the gate and swinging it outward. Then he hesitated for an instant and turned around to shake his head, "I hope not. By all the Powers in this upside-down world, I certainly hope not," vanishing down the pathway in the direction of the Dragon.

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

As Cami headed down the corridor to the chamber where Pio had taken the twins for their nap, the cheery sounds and music of the party grew softer and gradually faded away. The room was dimly lit with lacy curtains drawn across the windows. Grey shadows played along the walls as Cami tripped inside and latched the door behind her. She could hear the babies' breath rising and falling with reassuring regularity and a slight rustle or two as the twins nestled deeper into their bedclothes.

Leaning over the two cradles, Cami gently stroked the soft, dark hair on the top of each small head. A flood of conflicting emotions welled up inside. I am so lucky to have come here, to have this tiny space of time. I might never have known that you even existed. But, however I engrave your images on my heart, you will not remember me, and your faces will remain young and unchanging.

She stroked the sleeping form first of Isilmir and then of Gilwen, attaching the names to the faces and vowing that she would never forget them. She tersely reminded herself not to mar the goodbye with tears, then stepped back a pace and quietly spoke.

"If I pick you up, you'll probably awaken so it's best not to try. We'll have to be content with this. But when my own son is born, as winter turns to spring, I'll remember the friends he might have had here. If only....if only..."

Cami's voice trailed off. Then she turned and hastily retreated. Only when she was well down the hallway did the tears threaten to overwhelm her eyes. Pacing resolutely into the common room, she was rubbing her fingers hard against her brow to try to regain some semblance of composure when she unexpectedly heard a voice calling her name from across the room. Glancing up, she saw the familiar figure of Lorien striding towards her.

Cami felt her body stiffen with displeasure. This was the last person she ever wanted to see. She'd had enough pleading and begging to last for the remainder of her life.

Before she could open her mouth, Lorien raised his hand slightly as if to forestall further conversation. When he spoke, his tone sounded grave. "You are to come. Bilbo has decided it is time. He rests in the courtyard at the back of the Inn. There, he listens to the rustling of the beeches and gazes out at the stars that glitter from beyond while Frodo waits by his side."

Cami hastily arose and followed in Lorien's footsteps, walking through the kitchens and out the back door into the gardens. She stopped just once to register a plea in Cook's ear, asking her to speak with Pio and Mithadan and let them know what was happening. As the iron gate creaked back on its hinges, Maura rushed forward and engulfed her within his arms, steadying her with his presence.

********************************************

With her arm clinging tight around Maura's waist, Cami watched Frodo kneel beside Bilbo, and reach out to stroke his silver hair in a final gesture of intimacy as the two exchanged words of sorrow and reassurance. She saw the younger hobbit place a kiss on his uncle's brow, shakily stand up, and turn about to face them.

"He wishes to talk with you....both of you," Frodo murmurred, gesturing in Bilbo's direction.

Cami stepped forward but then stopped, looking gravely into Frodo's eyes, "You will be alright?"

"Yes, I think so." He smiled wearily, "He tells me to hurry up....that it's time for all of us to leave this dream and find our way home to where we're meant to be." Cami leaned forward and, on a rare impulse, embraced Frodo for an instant and then let go, taking up Maura's hand.

"Come," Maura whispered softly, guiding his wife forward. Together, the couple walked to the base of the giant beech that stood in the middle of the garden, where Bilbo lay resting with his back nestled against the trunk; his body hung limp and quiet but the light of his eyes still shown bright.

As Cami knelt down for one last time to try and dissuade him, Bilbo curtly interrupted, "I know what you mean to say. We've been through this. It's time to move on. I won't have any useless discussion now." He smiled at Cami in the familiar way that he had so often done when she was a child, with a gaze both stubborn and affectionate.

"We have other things to settle," Bilbo reminded them. "You two. You will do as Lorien bid." He stared at Maura with a question in his eyes.

"We've given our word," Maura responded evenly with no hint of emotion. "Just as we gave our promise to Mithrandir and the Valar in Beleriand. However hard it seems, I will honor that pledge."

"And you Cami?" Bilbo turned to his former pupil. "I need to hear it from your own mouth. I can't ask for something like this if you're running off somewhere causing trouble. Will you hold to the bargain that you sealed on Tol Fuin, the night when the waters rose?"

Cami pushed back her smile and stared off into the night locked in private reflection, as she struggled to find words that would honestly explain how she felt, "You are a friend, one of the dearest I have ever had, and I've given you my word. I will not break that."

"Beyond that, I can not say. I can no longer pretend to agree with the Valar or to understand the bargain they've doled out to me and my children." She hesitated and added with emphasis, "Especially my children who were no partners to this pact... Nor can I hide my fears and anger pretending those feelings don't exist. But you, Bilbo Baggins, have asked me to do something in hopes that you can help us, and I won't go back on my word to a friend. Perhaps, wherever you are going, a simple promise to a friend will suffice."

Bilbo shook his head and crustily observed, "Then, whatever our reasons, we are agreed. You will do as Lorien asks and return to your own time. And I will do as I must, going beyond to carry a plea for you and Maura to come together through the mists of time, just as Luthien once implored Mandos that she might join Beren, and that same request was brought to Manwe, and even further beyond. But whether a simple hobbit with little merit can be heard, I can not say."

"Now, get that rascal Frodo to come down here again."

Maura politely nodded and stepped back as Frodo approached Bilbo's side. Cami waited for a moment whispering a final farewell under her breath, "Goodbye, Bilbo. Thank you for the kindnesses you've shown me all these years, and for how you tried to help us. Maura and I won't forget...no matter what happens. Sleep well, my friend."

With that Cami embraced Bilbo and waited with Maura by the side of the garden. They both watched as Frodo bent close to his uncle exchanging a few secret words. Then Bilbo lay back in sleep, and the light that had sparkled in his eyes spread out over his entire face, and he seemed to be at peace. Like a young child, Frodo lay curled up on the grass beside him and instantly fell asleep. A moment later the two had vanished, each going on a separate path. Then, Maura took Cami's hand in his own and led his grieving wife back through the gate and inside the Inn.

[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

‘To life,’ she said quietly, clinking her glass against both of theirs. ‘To wondrous life . . .’

The wine did not reach her lips. Nor the smile her eyes. Gilly and Prim drank deeply from their glasses, refilling them as they chatted on about the party and who had come, and what was the latest gossip from the Inn. Pio waved off the bottle as Prim tipped it toward her still filled glass. Her hand crept to her forehead, and she begged off from their company, saying she had a headache from the long day, and would they excuse her if she went to her room. Gilly stood, saying she would just check on the babies, but Pio bade her stay and enjoy the pleasant evening and the good company of Prim, saying she would see to the little ones as she found her way to bed.

It was not the long day that drove her from the circle of friends and well-wishers in the Inn yard. It was the aching, urgent sadness that had crept into her thoughts. Cami had been to see the twins . . . to say good-bye to them. Pio had sensed someone in their room, drawing them up from their drowsing to a brief awareness of someone’s soft voice. She reached out them and to the one who stood near them. Just as she raised her glass to the others, she heard Cami’s small voice speaking to them of her yet unborn son and her wishes that he might have grown up knowing them.

It was all too final. Too quickly, the small period of grace that had been granted was drawing to a close.

And then Cami had retreated down the hall and into the mix of words and images had come the urgent voice of Lórien bidding her hurry . . . Bilbo had chosen his time . . . and it was now . . .

Her fair face more pale than the moonlight that picked out its troubled features, Pio followed the Hobbit and the Vala as they made their way to the back of the Inn, to the gardens. Her footsteps went unnoticed as she came to the iron gate and slipped through, her slender figure easing itself into the shadows of the elms along the edge of the yard. Barely breathing she listened to the promises extracted, the promises made beneath the giant beech where Bilbo lay. Her heart was leaden, and her tears, rarely surrendered, now trailed down her face unheeded. She watched as Maura and Cami stepped back; as Bilbo and Frodo fell into their separate dreams, then winked out, as if the air about them had blinked and resettled itself into a picture, empty now of its subjects.

Why do you cry, Piosenniel? Lórien’s question broke her vigil, and she turned to face him. Does it bring you no comfort that Bilbo has chosen to plead for them?

Naught but cold comfort, Lórien she told him, rubbing the wetness from her face with the sleeves of her dress. She turned away from him, new tears finding new tracks down her ashen cheeks. Lórien’s thoughts gathered for another question; it teetered on the edge of them. No more words, Lórien, need pass between us she said quietly to him, pressing her hands against her eyes. A ragged gasp escaped her lips and was cut off, as she sought to rein in her sorrow - put it away to be looked at and taken in later. He reached out a hand to touch her rigid back, and she withdrew from it, shifting round to face him once again.

‘Go away, Vala.’ The low spoken words strung out in the space between them like barrier. ‘Leave me and my little ones in peace. Send me not your gift of dreams. I have no use for it.’ ‘Go away,’ she said again, her cheeks ruddy where she had rubbed the last of the tears from them. ‘Go away. Let there be no further words between us.’

She left him standing there and hurried away, her eyes dry and clear now. Bilbo was gone . . . the dream was coming to its end . . . soon Cami, too, would fade from this slice of skewed reality.

A pressing sense of urgency drove her on . . . Cami would be gone soon . . . Pio needed to see her . . . one last time . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

A full moon hung silhouetted against the black night sky, its rays caressing the soft contours of the hills. Silver light from the moon and stars bathed the woods and marshes, the rich tilled fields and farmsteads, which ran from the eastern bounds of Buckland through the East and West Farthing, extending north up to Greenfields and as far south as Sackville. Almost at the center of this protected circle stood the town of Bywater with its smaller cousin Hobbiton.

At the Inn in Bywater, five hobbits sat huddled in a corner of the Common Room with their heads bent close, seemingly oblivious to the overarching beauty of the heavens. They spoke in tense, urgent tones, each of them trying to make sense out of what might happen later that night. The hands of the Dragon's clock stood close to midnight, yet no one gathered at the table seemed eager to retire to their beds.

Cami was seated next to Maura with her fingers interlaced with his. She had finished her goodbyes to Lindo, whom she'd known from the camps in Beleriand, and to Maura's sister Zira and her husband Ban. She wished there'd been more time to spend with them, especially Zira, whose talents as a healer had first alerted Cami to the possibility that she herself might want to follow in that path.

Maura had found it even more painful to explain to Lindo that he might or might not be returning home, and, even if he did, the length of his stay was uncertain. He could come to Tol Fuin for a tiny interlude and be suddenly whisked away, or live there quietly for the remainder of his days. There was no way to predict.

Lindo had looked frustrated as he confronted Maura with a series of questions, "Why didn't you tell me any of this before? I may never see you again. How can you leave your family? And all the time and effort we spent developing the community.... I understand you want to be with Cami, but why can't she come with us?"

Clenching his fists at his side, the young songmaster stood up and, without waiting for a reply, fired over at Zira, "Don't tell me you agreed to this?"

Zira flashed her brother a look of reassurance, "If Maura leaves, I will miss him to the end of my days. But I understand why he must go. I would do the same for my own husband." Her eyes locked onto those of Ban's.

"As far as Cami coming with us, that won't happen. The hobbits in the Anduin face greater danger than those in Tol Fuin. Cami must stay where she is, just as Ancalimon told her."

As Lindo sat down and helplessly pressed his head into his hands, Maura reached out to grip his friend's shoulder. "This is hard to say.... I don't like leaving any more than you like seeing me go. But, Lindo, if you'd had the chance before Gondolin.... the chance to join Niphredil, even if it meant leaving the community you knew, would you have gone?"

Lindo kept his head down for an instant as his fingers tightened their grip on his head. Then he replied in a weary, small voice, "Yes...yes, I would have gone with her."

"That's what I'm trying to do. To stay with my wife and her children and with our young son who'll be born next spring. I must try even if it leads me far from home. But whether our plea will be heard or any action will be taken, no one can say. We have only blind hope."

A painful look spread over Lindo's face. "Even after all these years and the joy I get from my lads, I still miss her... His voice trailed off into silence. "Alright, Maura Tuk. How can I fault you on those terms?" Lindo went on speaking more warmly, "If it wasn't for you, Loremaster, I'd never have begun writing songs. I shall miss you." Then he turned and walked away, with Ban following at his shoulder.

As Cami watched the two hobbits leave, she leaned over to Maura and added, "Stay here with your sister. I need to go out and take a walk by myself, and then say goodbye to Pio and Mithadan."

"You'll come back to our room then?" His tone sounded wistful.

"Yes," she indicated with a rapid shake of her head. As soon as I can. I promise."

With that, Cami slipped out the front gate and began walking earnestly along the road towards Hobbiton. Within less than a quarter hour, she had reached the party fields. Cami could see the graceful mallorn outlined in the middle of the grassy field with its gleeming silver bark. To the south lay the tiny burrows that had once been Bagshot Row, the spot where she used to live. To the north she could glimpse the front windows of Bag-end, now still and silent, where Samwise and his family slept protected. Cami suspected that Frodo had shared his goodbyes with Sam before the end of the party.

So many memories and so much of her past lay here. There were too many goodbyes to hold in a single evening.

As Cami approached the edge of the field, she glimpsed a tall, familiar figure under the crown of the mallorn whose body lay half-concealed in the shadows of the night. She found herself laughing for the first time that evening. I swear she knows what I'm going to do even before I decide to do it! How I shall miss her back home....

[ September 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Pio leaned against the mallorn tree, hands tucked behind the small of her back for comfort against the hard trunk. The branches creaked above her echoing the disquiet in her mind. She turned and leaned a cheek against the smooth bark.

I remember you from Eressëa, Old One, and Nísimaldar. And often have I seen you in Lórien, as I passed through, the fragrance of your presence bringing pleasant memories. You leant me comfort in times before. Will you not do the same for me now?

The leaves, heavy with scent, rustled at her words, but their offering could not drive away her sadness this time.

Her thoughts were on Cami, and she could feel the nearing presence of her friend. A sudden and familiar laugh signaled her approach, and Pio stepped forward from the shadows and into the star light, her hand raised in greeting.

‘I was just waiting for you, Cami.’

The tears she had pushed back in her encounter with Lórien inched down her cheeks again, and she rubbed at them with sleeves of her gown. Crying for her own loss and for Cami’s. Back-lit by the moon, the features of her face were cast still in shadow, the tears unseen. She knelt down on the greensward, as her friend drew closer.

I was waiting for you, she thought to herself, watching the moonlight and shadows play on the familiar planes of Cami’s face as she trudged across the field, all my long years . . . and now, when we should be enjoying the pleasure of our children and husbands together, at least for a while, you are torn from me. She took a deep breath and shook her head, chiding herself for selfishness in the face of Cami’s own overwhelming grief.

‘Come sit with me for a while, Cami.’ Pio patted the ground next to her as she sat back, tucking her legs to the side. She pulled the Hobbit close to her, wrapping her arm about her shoulders.

‘I cannot say good-bye to you again,’ she said, resting her chin of the top of Cami’s brown curls. ‘Once, on the banks of the Anduin, is all that I can manage.’

She let her mind drift down to the little life growing inside her friend. ‘Tell me about your son, Cami. What will you name him? And what will he look like? What games will he play? And where? And with whom? And what stories will you tell him at night, when his eyes are heavy with sleep, and he begs for just one more.’

Pio bent down and nestled her cheek against the Hobbit’s for a moment. ‘Tell me all the things you imagine for your little one, Cami. So that I might know him, and think fondly of him and his mother as my own children grow and stretch their wings and push away from me as they must.’

She laughed just a little, the sound catching in her throat. ‘I will think of you, you know, when they are acting horrid, and I find myself wanting someone to commiserate with me. And I will think of you when they have done or said something rather brilliant and want to brag to you. Every stage of growth they meet and pass - your little one will be there, also, in my mind.’ As will you . . .

Pio shifted round to face Cami, taking her hands in hers. ‘Tell me how you will speak to him of the Elf who holds him in her heart. Talk to me of him. Give me the words my children and I will know him by.’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami knelt on the grass and gazed into her friend’s earnest, questioning face. Pio was right. More sad goodbyes would not help either of them face the burdens that lay ahead. Whatever happened with Maura, whether he came or didn’t come to Greenwood, what joys or sorrows lay ahead for her family, Cami knew things wouldn’t be easy where she was going. Mithrandir had emphasized that fact. However her destiny played out, it would come knocking on her burrow door in just a few short hours. And setting aside her wild dreams and wishes, she was powerless to alter any part of that doom.

The one thing she could control was this tiny speck of time....this single instant that she had with her friend, and perhaps, if she was lucky, a few minutes with Maura back at the Inn. She could waste these precious seconds, throw them away as worthless, because she was drowning in self pity and desperately wanted something more. Or she could meet the moment with some measure of grace and good nature.

Her people had generally managed to do the latter, even in times of hardship and sorrow. Once more a smile played on Cami's lips. How ironic that she needed an Elf to remind her of that. But then Pio was Holly’s daughter too.

Cami sat on the grass and leaned back against the trunk of the mallorn, staring up at the starlit mantle that covered the skies while pondering the question her friend had raised. How can I make them understand? My little ones back home.

She reflected for a while before responding out loud, choosing her words with care, “I will tell my children to look at the skies. That the glittering lights they see are the same ones smiling down on you and your children. That we are all part of one song, and the feelings are still there, even when our families can’t see or touch each other. ”

“And, Pio, show your children this,” Cami scrambled through the pockets of her skirt, fumbling for something she’d mislaid earlier that day. She pulled out a rather crumpled piece of vellum and carefully unfolded and smoothed it out, and then held it up to the moonlight. She glanced shyly over at her friend before offering her the precious sheet. “Please don’t laugh. I drew something for you and Mithadan.”

Pio could glimpse a rough charcoal outline of a hobbit family seated round a campfire with a circle of stars shining down from above. They seemed to be near a river. Cami eagerly sketched out the grey shapes with her finger, "You see, that's me, and the boys, all five of them. Plus, I'm holding my newborn son on my knee. And there's Holly."

Pio gingerly took the gift from Cami and held it closer to her nose while trying to puzzle out the shadowy figure in the foreground. "What's this?" the Elf queried, pointing to another hobbit form, sketched in even more roughly at the very apex of the circle.

"That?" Cami looked down at the ground and squirmed. "That's Maura. I wasn't sure what to do so I put him just half-way in. I figure, one way or another, he'll be there, if only in spirit."

"And this," Cami added hopefully. "This is the best part. Can you tell what it is?"

The Elf smiled and shook her head. "I can't quite make it out."

Cami forged ahead undeterred, "There in the dirt, I've used a stick to draw an outline of our ship and the Star that flew upon her mast, almost like those stars above our own heads."

"I'm telling everyone a story, my little ones and Maura, so they won't forget anything important that we did, certainly not you or Mithadan or your beloved children."

Cami wiggled her toes and sighed, "You said a sword didn't suit me. That it wasn't my weapon. So I drew a picture of me fighting the way I like best...with words. Fighting to hold off forgetfulness and complaisance, to cling to what's important. That's how my children will remember you."

Cami looked sternly at her friend, "I know Mithadan's asleep now, but make sure he sees this tomorrow after I leave, and the twins too once they get older."

Rising from the damp night grass and starting their trek back to the Inn, they halted for a moment at the very edge of the party field for a last look at the golden mallorn and the receding image of Bag-end. Pio carefully tucked the little sheet under her belt and looped her arm around Cami's shoulder. There was silence on the way homeward, as the two friends listened to the soft chirps of crickets and silently wondered what the morning might bring, until they mounted the steps of the Dragon for one final goodbye and parted in the corridor with a gentle hug.

[ September 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Bird

Cami had just turned down the hall to her and Maura’s room when the soft flutter of wings grew loud behind her and a sputtering ball of feathers and bony feet came to rest on her right shoulder.

‘Here now! You weren’t thinking of doing your disappearing act without saying good-bye to me, were you?’

Bird fixed Cami with one beady black eye and gave an indignant shake of her tail feathers. She plucked a particularly lovely black and white feather from her tail and handed it to the Hobbit. ‘I followed Pio. Saw the drawing you made for her. Stick this in your pocket and show it to the folks when you’re telling them about me.’ She fluffed out her feathers and preened a bit. ‘Let them know I was your friend in all my guises. And to be mindful of the little critters about them . . . never know when one of them may turn out to be exceedingly helpful.’

The little jackdaw dropped down to the floor changing as she reached it to her human form. She drew Cami into a fierce hug, whispering a few last words to her. By then, the door to Cami’s room had opened slightly, and a slender shaft of soft light poured out followed by Maura’s head, looking hopefully down the hall.

Bird drew back from the hug with a barely concealed sniffle and turned Cami round to face toward the open door. ‘Go on, now. No time for boo-hooing about things we can’t do anything about. Maura’s waiting for you. Go on!’ She gave the Hobbit a little shove in the small of her back that sent her hurrying toward the waiting man.

Then, with a resigned sigh, Bird turned her own steps toward the Common Room. It was empty of customers, and the Innkeeper was abed. There on the shelf below the bar was a bottle of fiery Southron spirits she had spied on one of her late night excursions.

Back in her room, glass in hand, she sat by the open window, feet propped on the sill. There, in the south, just peeking over the dark horizon was Helluin, the Azure Bee. Pio had shown her that cluster of stars many years ago, calling them the Shapechanger’s constellation. Ingil, Ingwë’s son, it was said had followed after Telimektar, the son of Tulkas, when he rose into the sky as Menelmacar, The Swordsman of the Sky. Ingil had taken the shape of a great bee bearing honey of flame and settled at the foot of Telimektar, awaiting the Last Battle and the End of Days.

Bird raised her glass to the southern star and threw back the drink in a single gulp, the fiery liquid burning it’s way down her throat. One more she drank to Cami and the realization of her hopes.

The rest she sipped at slowly, letting the few hours of the night slip by thinking on what she might do when they returned to Minas Anor . . .

[piosenniel]

Gilwen roused up when her mother entered the room, a small cry of protest forming on her lips. Shhh! Let your brother rest, little one. Pio’s hand rubbed lightly on the baby’s back easing her back to sleep.

The light of a single candle burned on the nightstand by her bed as she entered her room. Mithadan had left a light for her. How like him to be so thoughtful. She regarded his sleeping form, his back turned to her, and wondered at the simple pleasure she took in the fact that he had thought of her comfort.

Turning away from him, she changed into a light gown for sleeping, and freed her hair from the confines of the band that held it back, running her fingers through it until it fell in long dark waves about her face and down her back. She fingered the drawing Cami had given her, looking at it one last time, then placed it carefully on the top of the chest of drawers.

‘What is that you’re looking at?’ The soft voice from behind surprised her. Mithadan had turned toward her, his head raised from the pillow and resting on his hand. He drew back the covers and motioned for her to come to bed. She came, bringing the drawing with her, and spread it on the pillow between them.

‘This is a drawing that Cami made for us.’ She recounted for him what had happened that night. How she had followed after Cami and Lórien and witnessed the passing away of Frodo and Bilbo. And how Cami had come to say good-bye beneath the mallorn tree, and all that had passed between them. ‘She is going away for the last time, Mithadan. As is Maura. Each to his own time and place. She is resigned to it. And it grieves me to see her so sad.’

A space of time passed as they spoke quietly to one another. Mithadan had spoken at length with Gamba and then with Maura, he told her, wishing them both farewell. Maura he had wished the same happiness for with Cami and their family, as he shared with Pio. Gamba he had given what hope he could, and reminded him that he would always hold a place in his heart and in his thoughts. There was nothing more they could do now. No course of action to change the situation. When their words had come to an end, Mithadan drew her closer to him. Placing the drawing on the table beside the bed, he blew out the now guttering candle.

They took what comfort they could in each other’s arms, warding off the coming of the day.

[ September 13, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Maura greeted Cami at the doorway, encircling her with his arms, as she leaned forward with her head nestled against the folds of his travelling cloak. Her small body trembled as she fought to hold back tears. There were mugs of hot cider set out on a tray that Maura had brought up from the kitchen just a few minutes earlier. While Cami sipped the steaming brew and the aroma of sweet spices wafted through the room, the couple sat down to talk.

"That was Bird come to wish you well?"

"Aye, I've seen little enough of her in recent days. 'Tis a sadness in my heart. I miss her laughter, her wit, even her grumpiness. But now, there's no time to mend that loss."

"And Pio? You saw her?"

"Yes, in the party field under the mallorn, we spoke of how we would never forget each other. I gave her my sketch, the one I finished yesterday, and asked her to share it with Mithadan."

Cami waited for a moment and then spoke, "Is Holly alright? And the boys, and Rose? I didn't think to ask earlier."

Maura gestured towards a small figure with tangled curls tucked in neatly under the bedcovers. "She was already asleep when I carried her to the Inn. Then I said my good nights to the boys and Rose. They are as well as we could hope."

"Even Gamba?"

Maura nodded soberly, "He is worried about what will happen..."

Cami sighed and looked away. She pushed her chair back from the table and approached the bed, bending down to plant a kiss on Holly's brow and then walked towards the window that overlooked the road. She gazed westward in the direction of Hobbiton as distant memories tugged once again at her mind. "I remember when I was little. Bilbo always said it took a brave heart to set out on the road, since you never know where it might lead. I didn't feel that way before, not even on the Star with all those leagues of water behind us, but tonight I understand exactly what he meant."

When she finally spoke again, her face was pensive, almost bleak, without the hint of any smile or tear, "Maura, I'm afraid. I don't know if I can do this. Maybe Gandalf made a mistake when he told me to come to Greenwood."

"No, Cami, I don't believe that, and neither do you. Whatever happens, we will manage. Both of us. We have our people, our families and our memories, our lore and our ability to know right from wrong. Many in this world have far less than that."

Maura paced over to a small bookshelf in the corner removing a familiar volume whose leather cover was stained and torn, showing the wear of many hands. He glanced down at the old treasure and held it out to Cami.

"Here. Take this. It's yours."

"Maura, no. This is Andreth's journal. It belongs on Tol Fuin."

He responded slowly, choosing his words with care. "This trip has taught me many things. About myself, and us, and our people. The hobbits of Tol Fuin have these tales engraved on their hearts. The words of Finrod and Andreth, the stories of the hills of Dorthonion and the mirrored depths of Tarn Aeluin where the stars glitter in the night. My world remembers this, but yours has forgotten. You must take it with you, and remind them."

"Anyways," he added with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "When I come later, it will be waiting for me."

Without another word, Cami tucked the volume inside her pouch, where she'd also packed the dress Bilbo had given her and a few remembrances of the Shire. She fastened the travel pack about her waist and tightened the buckle.

"What shall we do now?"

"Come sit beside me by the fire. We'll watch it burn down until we fall asleep." He sat cross legged as Cami stretched out on the rug, curling her body about the pack and resting her head in his lap. They both looked on in silence as the tiny tendrils of red-blue flame gradually faded and died, falling into golden embers.

"Maybe I could stay awake forever? Never go to sleep," Cami stared at the glowing remains in the grate still propped up on Maura's knee and stifling a yawn with difficulty.

He glanced at her and laughed. "I think Lorien might have something to say about that."

"I suppose so. But he has nothing to say about the few minutes we have left here. At least, I do not see him in this room."

They drew together in playfulness and affection, and then sat in silence for a spell, each listening to the other's heartbeat. Maura was the first to sense the shimmering curtain of silver mist descending on their heads. Cami looked up in surprise and caught the glimmer of recognition in her husband's face, as he softly murmurred, "It has come."

He watched as Cami's eyelids fluttered, opening and closing, then closing for a final time, her body still warm and quiet within his embrace. Engraving the image upon his heart, he frantically struggled towards consciousness for one last time, vainly attempting to extricate himself from the tangled threads of Lorien's silken web.

Just before the mist enveloped his mind, a final plea took shape flying towards the stars, "For her....let us be together. For her and for our family. And if there is a price to pay in this life or beyond, I will gladly pay it."

Then the curtain of sleep dropped over the Inn, and all within were silent. Only silver ash remained in the grate and slivers of shimmering moonlight reflected off barren walls.

[ September 08, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

In the midst of tenderness and the insistent embrace of love, the sadness seeped in.

It has come. she heard him say, and then, the soft, last desperate plea. For her....let us be together. For her and for our family. And if there is some price to pay in life or beyond, I will gladly pay it . . .

Pio cried out, and she struggled to rise from her bed.

Cami! No!

Mithadan locked her in his embrace, whispering gentle words. ‘I heard them also, Piosenniel. Stay with me. We can do nothing now.’ His lips sought her tear-stained cheeks, and then her lips – gently at first, and then with greater urgency, he plucked their kisses. He drew her down and she lost herself for a space of time in the overwhelming solace of his arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isilmir and Gilwen cared not for the comings and goings of those secondary to their needs. Their cries woke the one they wanted and she came to them, drawing them toward her for comfort and fulfillment. She brought them back to bed with her.

Mithadan was awake and watched their greedy mouths seeking sustenance and the slaking of their needs. Much as I have done. he thought, his fingers resting lightly against her thigh.

The pale fingers of first daylight crept in through the crack in the curtains. The twins, sated, had dropped off to sleep once again, her milk rimming their now slack lips. Pio reached out with her mind for Cami. There was nothing . . . nothing at all . . . nor was there any hint of Maura . . . or of the children . . . and none of Lórien . . .

They are gone, then. she thought to herself, her thoughts spilling over into Mithadan’s awareness. She laid the sleeping twins next to her, and he grasped her hand in sorrowed understanding.

He rose with her, then, drawing his robe around him, and went to Cami and Maura’s room. One ember still lay smoldering in the fireplace. It hissed and popped, breaking apart as they entered the now cold and empty room.

Come with me. she asked of him.

Where is it that you wish to go? he said gently, clasping her hand.

The pond . . . where they dwelt in happiness for a brief time . . . I would say my final good-byes there. She sighed in resignation, a shuddering breath that held back the full extent of her surrender to events she could not alter.

[piosenniel]

Cook was insistent. ‘Elf or no,’ she said, ‘I won’t have you shorting the wee ones for lack of food.’ You’ll eat what I’ve fixed for you,’ she said firmly, ‘and then you can go on about your business.’

It was unclear to the others in the Inn, that morning, what had happened. An obscuring curtain had come down in the night, veiling the events that had taken place. They only knew that when they awoke, something had changed. And that the Elf and the Man were disconsolate in the wake of it.

Buttercup laid out their place settings at the kitchen table, and Ruby poured mugs of strong tea sweetened with honey. A plate of eggs and toast, spread thick with gooseberry jam, was set before each of them. And under the steely-eyed watch of Cook, they made their way through the offering.

For Pio, the food was no more than ash in her mouth. She did not taste it, but shoveled it in, in a perfunctory manner, counting the seconds until she could be away from the walls of the Inn which now pressed in on her. Hob was there, sipping his cup of tea, and she bade him bring round both Mithadan’s horse and her own.

Once done with breakfast, Pio drew on her cloak, pulling it close about her, though the day was dawning warm. A short ride brought them to the pond, and they dismounted, leaving their mounts to graze on the sweet clumps of grass that rimmed it.

The waterfowl were there. Their persistent noises pulling at her attention. I have nothing for you, little ones. No apples from the Hobbit’s store, this time.

We gave your message to him. they insisted with their cries. There should be something for our trouble!

A laugh escaped her - an unnatural sound in the silence that surrounded the water. I had forgotten, little masters! She fished in the pockets of her cloak, finding the toast that Cook had insisted she take with her. Here! This is all I have. She spread the crumbs on the flat rock on which they sunned themselves. I thank you for your words to the Lord of Waters. ‘Though even he,’ she thought quietly to herself, ‘could not hold back the turn of these events.’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Arm in arm, they walked slowly about the place where Cami and Maura’s burrow had once been. There was little to see. Only ash and rubble . . . a cracked cup where the cupboards had once been, a scattering of burnt clothes, the neglected remains of a doll that had once been dear to little Holly, its sightless face turned up toward an uncaring sky.

It was Mithadan who saw the edges of the books sticking up beneath the carpet of leaves some newly fallen, some burnt. ‘Look!’ he cried, his fingers digging out the tomes that had been buried under the refuse of the Hobbits’ fallen home. ‘’It’s the one thing left intact, it seems.’ He held them up, beckoning Pio to come nearer.

She took them from his hands, cradling them as if they were precious jewels. ‘Cami’s,’ she remarked, turning the untitled stack in her slender fingers. ‘She hadn’t looked at them yet,’ she said, noting the thin leather cord that bound them still. Pio tucked them under her arm, and poked through the ashes a little while longer.

There was nothing more. It was all gone. The ashes of Cami and Maura’s brief life here had been picked up in the morning breeze and scattered . . .

Pio knelt down among the burnt remains of the small bedroom. There among the blackened feathers of the pillows and the ragged remains of the ticking that marked where the bed had been, she reached out her hand and stirred the cold ashes where the little family had dreamed their dreams.

‘Eru grant you the grace of your wishes realized,’ she murmured.

She stood, tucking the books beneath her arm, and made for her horse. Mithadan, pausing where she had knelt, put his right hand to his chest, and spoke clearly, his back against the rising sun. ‘The grace of the Valar be with you and Maura.’ Then he stepped away, following her, their steps leading them for the last time away from this place and to that where their own family awaited . . .

[ September 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Three days after Cami and Maura’s departure

The breakfast dishes were done and dried, the kitchen swept up, the big kettle dragged out and put on the hob for the dinner soup. Ruby and Buttercup sat at the kitchen table, a diminishing pile of vegetables in front of them to be chopped up and simmered in the kettle’s broth.

Cook took her cleaver to the chickens Hob had brought in, chopping them into good sized pieces. The mound of them and the herbs she had snipped earlier would go into the kettle first. She scrubbed up her chopping board once done, and counted the loaves of bread she had left from the morning’s meal. Wiping her hands on her apron, she looked round the kitchen with a satisfied smile. All was in order once again.

‘When you’re done there,’ she said, eyeing the growing pile of cubed tubers and vegetables ‘go on and help out with the rooms to be cleaned and tidied. It’s mid month and the fellows from Buckland should be here with their cartloads of supplies from Bree. We’ll want to make sure the rooms are ready for them.’

‘I’ll do it!’ cried Buttercup, laying down her knife on her cutting board. ‘You finish this and I’ll start on the other.’ Ruby nodded in agreement with her; she was loath to pick up a dust rag and broom at the moment, preferring to finish the task before her, and then sit back with a cup of tea, if she might.

Broom and cloth in hand, Buttercup trudged down the hall to the room just a way beyond Mistress Piosenniel’s. Pio’s door was wide open, and as she snuck a peek in, in passing, she noted Mithadan methodically packing piles of things into wooden crates. She could not help giggling when he called out to the Elf, unseen by her, in a mockingly exasperated voice. ‘You came here on horseback, Piosenniel. How in the Sundering Seas did you manage to collect so much . . . stuff!’ He winked at Buttercup as she stood in the doorway. ‘Don’t tarry too long, Hobbit. I’ll draft you into packing all this up!’

Buttercup laughed and backed out of the doorway, just as Pio came into view. ‘Do not take him seriously, Buttercup. He is master of the Lonely Star crew, but not the Inn!’ Mithadan Hmmmphed at her and reached for another crate. ‘And besides,’ confided Pio in a loud whisper, ‘he can be quite fussy in how things are stowed away for a journey.’ The two watched as he fitted . . . and sometimes jammed, various items into the crate. ‘Really!’ assured Pio to the skeptical Hobbit, ‘there is a method to his seeming madness.’ Another Hmmmph! followed, and a request that perhaps the ladies could find something else to do and let a poor man get his work done. Pio bent to give him a quick kiss, noting he held the bound stack of books in his hand they had found by the pool. ‘Oh, let me deal with those,’ she said, taking them from him. ‘I shall just put them with the items I am packing. With any luck, I can look through some of them on our trip back to Minas Tirith.’

‘Wait for me, Buttercup. Let me just put these in the back room.’

The sound of her hurrying footsteps faded away and then returned just as quickly. ‘I am going to the kitchen for a mug of tea. Is that where you are bound?’

The Hobbit explained that Cook had requested the rooms be cleaned for the guests expected that day. ‘I’m just going down to do that little room, down the hall, then I’ll work my way upstairs.’

‘. . . that little room . . . The phrase rolled around in Pio’s mind as she walked with Buttercup. She had avoided ‘that little room’ – the one where Cami and Maura had been - since the brief visit the morning after their “departure”. Hadn’t wanted to see it, to be reminded again that her friend and her family had spent their last minutes there. Reluctant, in a way, to be prompted with anything that would bring the stinging memories of the loss flooding in again.

As it was, she had no reason to be worried. The room was tidy, the bed unslept in, a few odds and end lay in the bottom of the clothes cupboard. Most of their possessions had gone up in smoke, she recalled, when the ruffians had come to the Shire.

Buttercup was at the side of the bed, stripping it of its sheets and covers. Pio stepped over to her, saying she would give her a hand. ‘Extra hands make light work,’ she said, then catching the words as they came from her, smiled. Some one had taught her that phrase. Cami most likely, reminding the Elf that Hobbits preferred to work together to get a thing done rather than alone.

A small cry wrenched her from her thoughts. ‘Oh, now, what’s this,’ hissed Buttercup, stepping back from her side of the bed. She had jammed her toes up against something, and now stood with one foot propped on the bed, rubbing them.

Pio knelt down, and reached her hand into the dark interior under the bed. ‘Hmmm. What is this?’ she asked, fishing out the offending item.

She gasped as she hauled it into the light. It cannot be! She gave that journal to Andril on the Star. The leather bound day book she found under the bed looked much like the one Cami had left out for them to write in on the Star. The leather cover was worn, like that first one she remembered, but not smudged by the imprint of numerous fingers from the hands of all those who had written in it as they passed by the open door to the Hobbit’s room. Cami had usually left the Star journal lying open on her table for anyone to come and have a look. She had encouraged her friends to add their own thoughts into the narrative. Those scattered notes had been like a trail of memory that bore witness to all they had seen.

Pio ran her fingertips over the soft leather of the day book, remembering something her friend had said to her back then. She could see Cami just taking up her quill to write a few comments at the end of a day. Hopeful ones she had told her friend, who lay resting on her bed beside her, head propped up on her hand, as she watched the Hobbit dip the quill into the inkwell, then carefully rub off the excess before laying it to the vellum. There was a quiet rhythm to her movements, and a pleasure in setting words upon a blank surface reflected in her face.

‘Hopeful?’ Pio had asked, catching at least part of what the Hobbit spoke to her. ‘You mean you are certain how this will end and this gives you hope?’ She remembered that she, herself, had not been hopeful, finding it too slippery a concept to base one’s actions on – or at least that is how she had reasoned it out at that time.

Cami had put down her quill and looked closely at her friend. ‘No, Pio. I’ve learned that certainties are few. For even as one story ends, another begins. And it is rare for people to recognize in their own lives where that point of transition is.’

There had followed a comfortable silence as she recalled. The scritch . . . scritch . . . of the quill point against the paper the only sound in the room. Pio had lain back against the pillows, her eyes closed, thinking about endings and beginnings. It was a lesson, she realized now, that had surfaced, would continue to surface, again and again, as she made her way through this life she had chosen.

A flurry of activity drew her attention away from the unopened book she held in her hand. Buttercup had unfurled the clean sheets and was busy making up the bed. She nodded at Pio. ‘I wonder who left that behind,’ she said. ‘For the life of me, I can’t recall who last stayed in this room.’ Pio said nothing, but left her to her bed-making and took the daybook back to her room.

[piosenniel]

Mithadan looked up, and seeing the pensive look on her face, bade her sit down next to him. She put the journal in his hands, and he flipped through it casually. ‘Most of the pages are blank,’ he said, ‘but it was Cami’s, sure enough. Her hand is a familiar one.’ He ran his finger over the last entry in it, half finished it appeared. A quick note of excitement - that in a day her hand-fasting to Maura would occur.

‘So much happened after that,’ murmured Pio, leaning close against him as they looked at earlier entries. ‘She didn’t have time to finish it.’

He reached up and brushed a long strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘We’re almost done here,’ he said, gently changing the subject. ‘Shall I pack this carefully away for you . . . until later, perhaps?’ She shook her head, the curling tendril falling forward again to brush against the pages. ‘No, I think I will keep it handy. No use to waste it. I can end the story for her, the one that was begun here. I can remember it for her and put it on these pages. And begin the story that carries on with those left in this place and time.

Camelia Goodchild Tuk! You little sneak! Pio laughed, fingering the edges of the leather cover. Another lesson for the Elf. I taught you the use of a blade, and now you will teach me the intricacies of the quill.

Mithadan grinned at her. Always the teacher, eh? Are you up to the challenge this time? He placed the daybook back into Pio’s hands, and she grasped it firmly.

So be it, Cami! You will find me an apt pupil, I think.

[ September 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Two more days found the family finally ready to go. The good-byes had all been said, and there were promises made that letters would be sent. The Inn staff was teary, as the last of the crates were loaded into the small wagon drawn by two sturdy Shire ponies. And even Amaranthas had been seen to dab quickly at her eyes with the lace hanky that was in her hands. She gave Pio one last hug, before the Elf climbed up to the wagon seat, and handed her a loaf of her seedcake, wrapped in a clean linen towel. Bird eyed it greedily, and Amaranthas surprised her by handing her one as well. Gilly she instructed one last time to take good care of those babies, to which the young Hobbit nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

The Old Dragon caught Mithadan off guard, when she bade him crouch down by her and then clasped him in a fierce hug. ‘You’re not the scallywag I first thought you,’ she said, fixing him with her beady black eyes. ‘You’re a stand up fellow, respectable even.’ She stepped back a little and wagged her finger at him. ‘Best you take good care of her, though,’ she admonished him. ‘She’s a right treasure, and you’re lucky to have her.’ He looked at her solemnly, a gentle smile on his face. ‘And one last thing,’ she said, her expression mirroring his. ‘Don’t let her go traipsing off once you get her home. And don’t you go haring off on some business of your own when the next baby’s due.’

She stepped away, her ear tips a little crimson, when he kissed her on the cheek and swore to her he would do better.

Finally all were mounted up. Mithadan on his horse. Gilly and Pio on the seat of the wagon, Gilwen and Isilmir safe in a basket between them. Falmar was tied to the back of the wagon, and ambled along contentedly at the leisurely pace set by the little group. Bird, for this part of the trip, was content to sit on Pio’s shoulder, the occasional contented neek-breek sounding from her. Those in the wagon waved at the little crowd in the Inn yard, until the final turning in the road, when they could no longer be seen.

Then, they turned their faces eastward, heading home.

[piosenniel]

Two months later – leaving Firien Wood, heading southeast

Bird had elected to travel, at least for this while, as the jackdaw and sat perched on the handle of the brake at Pio’s side. Only half a month more of travel and barring any catastrophe, they would be in Minas Tirith.

The twins were napping, and Gilly sat, head nodding, not too far from sleep herself. Mithadan had gone on down the path, scouting the way ahead. Bored with the unending scenery of trees and hills, Bird fluttered up to Pio’s shoulder and brought her beak close to Pio’s ear, settling in for a chat. The prospect of being able to put her plans into action with a little of the funds that were hers excited her, and she talked at length about what she had planned.

The Elf, for her part, was happy for her friend, promising that she would poke about in the city’s library for any references to shapechangers. They fell to talking about Cami, and how she had been a great one for ferreting out information from the scrolls and tomes in the stacks.

Pio let the ponies amble along and brought out her daybook, showing Bird her newest entry of their trip so far. There was a small sketch of the jackdaw perched on the rim of the twins’ basket she had done one recent evening when they’d stopped for the night, and Bird turned her head this way and that, giving it a critical appraisal.

There were other small drawings on other pages, and Bird looked through them as Pio turned the pages, noting how she had captured the likenesses. One she chuckled over – a picture of Amaranthas leaning up against Angara, both their eyes fixed on the viewer, challenging them to refute some opinion they had just given. ‘That would have been an interesting meeting to have witnessed, eh, Bird?’

No response was forthcoming from her friend. Pio looked up to see Bird giving her a considering look. ‘There was something that Amaranthas said when we left, something that lay in the back of my mind. This picture just prompted it back into focus.’

Bird looked down to where Isilmir and Gilwen lay nestled together, their backs touching one another; then glanced back at her companion, who sat grinning slyly at her.

‘You’re not,’ said Bird, fluffing her feathers and giving them a shake.

‘We are,’ said, Pio, looking into the distance where Mithadan, astride his horse, now picked his way back to the wagon.

‘Her name will be Cami in the Mannish tongue, which is how she will be known by most.’ Pio grinned at the little jackdaw. ‘To me she will be Eresseleniel.’

Mithadan drew up alongside the wagon, looking down at the daybook opened on Pio’s knees. ‘What are you two talking about,’ he said craning his neck to see the pictures. His brow furrowed at the picture of Amaranthas and Angara. And he frowned down at Bird, who was hopping back and forth on Pio’s shoulder.

She looked at the twins, then fluffed her feathers once again, and shook them. Launching herself from her fleshy perch, she flew up to the Man and settled in on his shoulder, pulling at a strand of his silvered hair. ‘We’re talking about the family, Mithy . . . you . . . Pio . . . and the triplets . . .’

‘Triplets?’

‘Yes,’ cackled the little jackdaw, ‘Gilwen, Isilmir, and the one due in nine months.’

‘One . . . due . . .?’

‘Is there and echo in here?’ chortled Bird, hopping up and down with glee. ‘Your other daughter . . . Cami.’

‘Cami?’ His gaze snapped round to Pio, who simply nodded her head ‘yes’.

A wide grin split his face, followed by a deep belly laugh. The two looked at him, awaiting an explanation.

‘Well, then,’ he said, a smug look on his face. ‘Triplets it is!’ He grinned again.

‘Elvish triplets!’

[piosenniel]

A month later, and they had reached Minas Tirith and settled in for the while. Bird had stayed for a time, and they delighted in her company. But soon she grew restless, the confines of the city hemming her in she said. Bird left it to Pio to scour the library as she promised, while she took a pouch of coins and headed south and east, as she had been planning.

Another month passed before Pio unpacked all that had been brought back from the Shire. One of the last things looked through being the worn leather pack she had thrown into the corner of their bedroom. It was a fair autumn afternoon when she did so. Mithadan was at the docks, seeing to the Star – a trading voyage was soon to happen and he was finishing up the details of it. Gilly had bundled the twins up and taken them for a short stroll down to a friend’s house.

There were five books in the packet jammed at the bottom of the pack. Four were cloth bound and appeared to come each from a different part of the Shire. They were little logs that the post deliverers had kept over the years. Accounts of letters - who they had gone to and who had sent them; parcels that had been delivered; complaints that had been made; new routes that had been added. And interspersed among all these little notations were other items of interest – new babies; the deaths of family members, expected and unexpected; who was ill; who was in trouble; who was getting married; and on and on. All the little news that the postal deliverers were privy to. A wealth of information for someone who loved the history of things as Cami did.

It was the last book, leather bound and secured shut with a thin leather cord wrapped round it, that intrigued her. It looked as if it had been someone’s daily companion. The surface of the covers was worn smooth from much handling, and the leather edges that overhung the pages looked as if they had been grasped often, their rims stained darker from the oils of the fingers that had often held them in their grip.

She untied the cord and opened the front cover. Stuck against the front page was a dried yellow flower, five petalled set against its heart-shaped leaves. It stirred a memory in her, of Amaranthas’ garden, and the wood sorrel that grew in the shady areas beneath the trees.

Carefully turning the page and flower, Pio gasped as she saw the faded and familiar script on the second page. Heart pounding, she sat down on the edge of her bed, holding the journal open on her knees. Her fingers traced the lines of words on the page as she read them . . .

[piosenniel]

The ink was faded, almost a pale grey against the surface of the vellum, now lightly yellowed from the passage of many years. On the page, the words centered carefully, was written:


~*~ Being the Account of Camelia Goodchild Tuk ~*~

- Year 1000 of the Third Age: After Her Return to Greenwood -


“Tuk” had been lined through, once, she noted, and above it, printed in legible letters, was the single word, “Zaragamba”.

Pio’s heart was racing, and her hand shook as she tracked the letters of that familiar script. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she let it out slowly.

This was Cami’s journal! From her time in Greenwood. How had it come to be hidden in the ashes of her burned down house by the Bywater Pool?

There had been a thin envelope, she recalled, stuck between the cover of the first book of the stack, one of the Postal ledgers. Pio had pulled it out and laid it on the bed beside her, thinking to look at it later. Some letter, undelivered, she thought, stuck in the daybook by one of the post men. Now she picked it up, and fished out the thin piece of paper, its brief message written in a bold hand.

It was a note from Merry Brandybuck, written to his friend and fellow author, Pippin Took. He had recently come upon a number of interesting books concerning events pertinent to Shire history and hadn’t had time as yet to look through all of them. Would Pippin, he asked, be so good as to look through the lot he was sending him, and they could discuss their merits at their next meeting. Four of the books, he thought, might interest Mister Bilbo’s old student – Cami. Would Pippin see that she got the chance to look at them?

At the bottom of the note, were a few sentences penned by Pippin. Hope you enjoy looking through these books, he had written Cami. And asked her to take a few notes for him and Merry; then send them onto the Mathom House if she thought them worthy of keeping.

‘Oh, Cami!’ cried Pio laughing through her tears at the twist of fate that had hidden the answers to Cami’s questions and wonderings. ‘Here was the treasure, right under your feet.’

She turned the page and glanced quickly at the first entry. With a gasp she took in the barebones of it, then closed the ledger, her hand touching firmly against the leather cover. Mithadan would be home later in the evening. This is something that he should see, that he would want to see. They would read it together, when the evening’s routines had been seen to.

Pio opened the drawer to her bedside table, and fitted the ledger in. She could hear Gilly and the twins returning from their visit. They would need to be washed and fed, and then a light supper made and kept for the rest of them as they awaited the return of Mithadan.

Giving a last glance at the little table, Pio hurried from the bedroom. Duties to be seen to before desires were met . . .

[piosenniel]

Child and Pio's collaborative post

‘Oh leave the drying up for tonight. I have found something you must see.’

Supper had been seen to and its aftermath. Gilly and Mithadan had put the babies down for the night, and easy task this evening since their excursion earlier had worn them out. Gilly had fixed a cup of tea for herself and taken it back to her room. During supper, Mithadan had mentioned several letters he was sending out tomorrow and she wanted to finish her own to her family in Waymeet and have it sent along.

Mithadan came back to the kitchen and picked up a towel, intending to dry the dishes that Pio’s hands were flying over. He laughed at the distracted frenzy of the dishwasher as she scraped the burnt on crust from the final pan and commented that perhaps he should get out the mop instead, seeing the quantity of soapy water that had splashed onto the floor from her hurried actions. Her mind only half on what he'd said, she nodded at his words as she hurriedly rinsed the cleaned pan and stacked it precariously on the pile with its fellows. A quick wring of the dishrag followed, and then it was flung unceremoniously over the side of the sink.

And now he found himself flying down the hall after her, his hand gripped by her still wet one, toward their bedroom. The pan of soapy water, left to its own fortunes, still sat in the sink.

‘Hold up, a moment!’ he said, planting his feet firmly on the floor as they crossed the threshold. ‘What’s all this rush about!’ She loosened her grip on his hand, almost causing him to fall backwards and ran to her little bedside table, pulling open the drawer to remove the ledger.

‘This!’ she cried an edge of excitement evident in her expression. She sat down on the bed, her back up against the headboard and motioned for him to sit next to her. ‘Look what I discovered in that stack of books we found by the Bywater Pool.’ Curious, he took the plain looking leather-bound book from her, wondering what was in it that would make the Elf shiver in anticipation.

A gasp escaped him as he opened it up and read the first page. ‘Cami’s journal!’ She nodded at him, her eyes glinting in their eagerness. ‘I have not read it yet,’ she said as she turned the page to the first entry. She leaned back against the headboard, shoving a pillow behind the small of her back for comfort.

‘Go on’, she said softly, nudging him with her hand. ‘Read it to me . . .’

~*~


Three days have passed since my return to Greenwood. I feel I must set something down in this ledger, although I had hoped for a sweeter tale . . .

Mithadan’s voice caught as he read the inauspicious beginning, but Pio’s hand, resting against him, gave a little pat, urging him to go one.

I have neither seen nor heard from Maura. I can only suppose that Bilbo’s plea was not heard, or that the Powers beyond Arda have listened and chosen not to grant our wish.

But this is not the end of it. When I first awoke in the morning, I found little Mo and Ban curled up asleep and, within a moment or two Rose was sprinting down the path to welcome me from where she’d been staying with a friend. But there has been no sign of the others, despite the passage of time.

I spend my days searching through our village or traveling to nearby hobbit settlements to inquire if anyone has caught a glimpse of a small Stoor lass with blond curls and laughing blue eyes. The Elders glance at me strangely for there are no children in our area who fit Holly’s physical description.

The night that Lorien brought my three elder sons to the Dragon, the boys had been camped in Greenwood with Will and Hob Greenbottle. The latter are accounted responsible and levelheaded hobbits as well as the finest huntsmen in our settlement. With my blessing, and after begging for permission, Gamba, Asta, and Roka had traveled with the Greenbottles and several of the ‘tweeners on a two-week trek deep into the woods to secure needed provisions for winter. Their return is now several days overdue, and the Elders are becoming nervous.

Yet I will not give up hope. I wonder if Lorien could have some part in these mishaps, not intentionally, of course, but by careless oversight or blunder. Still, this would not explain the disappearance of an entire hunting party from the forest, a group that included nine hobbits as well as the ponies that they had taken with them.

Written with a heavy heart, the 18th day of Blotmath, shortly after Rose and I finished our supper

[piosenniel]

Child and Pio’s collaborative post

‘We knew it would be grim at times.’ Mithadan had come to the end of the entry, his face grave. ‘Still, logic doesn’t make the reality of it any easier.’ His words trailed off, his heart heavy at the thought of what fate his friends may have met.

Pio sat up, taking the ledger onto her own lap. Having already wiped the beginning of tears from her own eyes, she reached up her hand and stroked his cheek gently. ‘Let me read the next,’ she said softly, perhaps another day brings better news.’

~*~

Another two days have passed since my last journal entry. There is a cold chill in the air and, from the look of the animals storing up nuts and seeds, our winter will be a harsh one. I have already seen a snowflake or two.

It is a strange thing. If I had returned here to find Maura missing and my children gathered about me, I might have spent time grieving or mired in lethargy. But given the situation, I feel compelled to put all that behind me and work day and night to do whatever I can to help.

Yesterday, I again took my seat in the circle of Elders and pleaded my case, supported by the other families who are also missing kin. To our eternal gratitude, the Elders have finally agreed that we must do something other than sitting on our hands waiting for bad news to arrive. An armed search party will leave on the morrow to journey deep within the woods and hunt for any signs of those who are missing. Despite the hesitation of some, the scouts readily agreed to accept both of us in this group. Rose and I promised to carry a bow and blade, and to fight if we encounter trouble. My neighbor Lilac has agreed to look after my young ones while I am away.

Pio, if only I could speak with you and see your face! You once said that a sword did not become me. You are probably right. Yet this world is so full of sorrow and conflict that I sometimes feel impelled to take up weapons, even when my heart is not in the act. And I can think of nothing more precious to guard than the lives of our children. Still, whenever I gird a blade on my right hip, I will make sure to tuck a healer’s kit into my saddlebag, since folk will surely have need of the latter. If only the world went differently...


Written before a blazing hearth under a full moon on the 20th of Blotmath, with my satchel already packed for the morning.

[piosenniel]

Child and Pio’s collaborative post

‘No, do not take it from me yet. Let me read one more. If we read long enough there must be some hope that informs the fading ink of these grim words.’

Pio reached out to Isilmir and Gilwen, glad that they were safe in their own little bed. Her heart ached for Cami, faced with the possibility of never seeing her children again, as her arms ached to take the long gone Hobbits within the protective circle of their reach.

“Indeed . . . if only the world went differently . . .” She dried the last of the tears with her sleeve, and read on.

~*~

The weather grows colder as freezing rain falls on our heads. The ponies slip and slide on the trail, struggling to keep their feet on firm ground.
Still, until the weather changed, we made steady progress. It took two days to trek eastward on the Old Forest Road, almost sixty miles inside the borders of Greenwood. Now we are heading northward trying to reach the foothills of the Mountains, where we know the brothers intended to set up their final camp and search for game.

Just before we veered off the road, we ran into another hunting party that was bound for home, this one a group of woodland Elves taking shelter under a ridge as they waited for the weather to change. By chance, the Elf in charge of this band was Legolas who promised to leave his fellows on their homeward trek and aid us in our search for the missing hobbits. Perhaps he is doing this out of respect for his pledge to Radagast. Whatever the reason, I am thankful for this stroke of luck, if luck be.

‘Let us hope that this chance meeting heralds a turn of the luck she speaks speaks about,’ Mithadan murmured. His eyes were closed as she read, Cami’s face and little figure playing across his mind as the search continued.

Legolas has lived here many years and knows the forest well. He says some hidden evil has begun to extend its shadow over the trees. Just a sliver, nothing more, but he fears it will grow worse and someday claim all of Greenwood as its own. I do not know what to say. I can feel the rain and cold and the dull ache in my heart, but I see no sign of great evil. But he is an Elf, and sees things that are hidden from me. I only hope that Gamba and his brothers are somewhere dry, warm, and safe, and that Maura has found some measure of peace.

Scribbled out with stiff, blue hands in front of our small campfire, the evening of 23rd Blotmath—my inkwell is half frozen.

[piosenniel]

Child and Pio’s collaborative post

Pio rubbed her hands together as if they were cold and stiff from the chill of that winter’s day. ‘It cannot have been the Necromancer, yet,’ she said, considering the words of Thranduil’s son. ‘Still, even before he came to Amon Lanc, there must have been a few of his minions seeking to cause what troubles they might in his dark service. Her words here chill me more than the thought of that meager fire hissing in the icy rain.’

Mithadan chafed her hands in the heat of his, and drew one of the coverlets folded at the end of the bed about her. ‘Lean against me, for warmth,’ he prompted her, taking the ledger onto his own lap. ‘Let me read for a while.’

~*~

The rain has stopped, and we are making good progress.

Late this afternoon, Legolas led us to the hobbit encampment, or rather what was left of it. It lies within the foothills, in a clearing protected and half-hidden by a hedge of overhanging gorse bushes. On the ground there is clear evidence of a fierce conflict that raged here no more than a week ago.

We saw the half-mangled bodies of four ponies looking as if some giant bird of prey had attacked them, lying cold and stiff on the ground and frozen into place. We managed to round up three stray mounts, one of whom belonged to my eldest son. Thankfully, I saw no dead hobbits, but there is a newly built mound that fills my heart with dread. Still, whatever may lie within those rocks, someone had to be alive to dig it, and evil creatures would not take the time to bury their dead.

There was a small gasp; a half strangled ‘no!’ as Pio leaned against him heavily, peeking at the place where his finger marked the passage on the cairn.

From that point, Legolas guided our party further up the slope on the path he feels the hobbits took. We skirted the lower ridge of the mountain and clambered over a narrow rocky ledge where there were further indications that a struggle had taken place. In the midst of one clearing lay the body of an Orc.

None of the other hobbits in our party even knew what the creature was. I know too well from my days in Beleriand. Legolas was not surprised. Such things are not common in Greenwood, but the Elves have seen small Orc bands in recent months and these seem to be increasing in number.

Legolas has assured us that at least some of those in camp made it to safety, apparently fleeing deeper into the hills. He seemed puzzled by the great nets and traps that had been expertly laid out on the hillside. He questioned the lads to find out if there were any hobbits who’d had prior experience battling Orcs. Apparently, someone had devised a clever plan to outwit the brutes, someone who understood the ways and weaknesses of these creatures. Not only was one Orc killed but two fled on foot.

I have kept my counsel to myself. We are to camp tonight in this mournful place and resume our journey on the morrow deeper into the hills.

Nervously awaiting the return of the sun, 24th Blotmath.

[piosenniel]

Child and Pio’s collaborative post

I have kept my counsel to myself . . .

Mithadan’s arm was clasped hard in the Elf’s grip. ‘Take a breath, Piosenniel!’ he ordered gently. His quiet chuckle broke the gloom that seemed to wrap round them, as his fingers eased hers from their grasp. ‘I, too, am hopeful that Cami’s thoughts on this are the same as ours.’

The first few words, though, that began the next entry caused them both to frown. And Mithadan circled her with his arm, drawing her close, their heads just touching, as they took turns reading the words that flowed down the page.

~*~

Today I have bittersweet words to set down in this journal . . .

It is a tale that’s messy and hard to understand—--really not much different than life itself. There are parts filled with sadness, and others with joy. I can’t pretend to understand the meaning behind all these events. The most important point is this: my family is back. All of my family. Back in my crowded burrow, tumbling and sleeping and jostling one another. Squabbling and working and building memories. It’s all that I can ask.

I have pieced this story together bit by bit, questioning those who survived the Orc attack and attempting to fill in the holes where the course of events was uncertain. The tale given below probably leaves out many things, but it is the best that I could manage.

First, our own party of hunters was not the only group traversing the wilds of Greenwood. A band of Stoors was cutting through the woods on their way down towards the southern reaches of the Anduin in hopes of enjoying a milder winter. It was a large family group---mother, father, young lads and lasses, even a tiny miss in her mother’s front sling. I do not know the name of this family but dearly wish that I could discover it.

It is clear that the Orcs attacked these poor folk in their camp, late one night in the foothills of the mountains. Seemingly, no one was left alive. The Orcs took what they wanted from the carnage, but left several of the hobbit bodies lying untouched on the forest floor.

The story does not end here. Within a few hours another traveler came wandering down this same path, a tall hobbit in the prime of his years with silver hair and grey eyes who had no memory of where he had come from or what errand had been entrusted to him. He stumbled upon the bloodied encampment and immediately sensed what had happened. There was something in his mind that understood this kind of thing, as awful as it was.

Since it was daytime and he knew the Orcs would not return till late that night, he set out to construct a simple cairn. When he came to lift the mother’s body and lay it gently within the grave, he was startled to find a tiny child nestled in the mother’s front sling, a chubby toddler with blond curls whose heart still beat. As he raised the babe up to have a look, she whimpered and began to cry. He took the living child, cradled her to his body, and found her food to eat
.
This is how the Greenbottles and their companions found my own dear Maura and Holly late that afternoon in the very same campsite near the base of the hills. Maura had no memories of where he came from or who his family was. He gave his name as ‘Merimac Zaragamba’, and this is what the Greenbottles called him and my own sons as well. Later on, Gamba told me he thought he’d met him somewhere before but couldn’t quite place him. Only Rose and I seem to see him with true eyes.

That night the same scene repeated, with three Orcs attacking the camp, expecting to wreck havoc and come away with their dinner, leaving only bloodied bodies behind. But this time, they were mistaken. Although a number of the ponies were slain at the base camp, Merimac hastily led the lads on a wild chase up the slopes to a treacherous rocky ledge where they’d constructed a number of obstacles and traps. Only nimble hobbit feet could navigate this precarious spot. In the end one Orc was killed and two fled in terror.

The victory came at a price with many of the nine hobbits grievously wounded. How they managed to drag themselves higher up the cliff, I cannot imagine. Unable to travel any further, they hid in a protected cavern, hoping that aid would come their way before the depths of winter. Gamba still has a cracked rib and Asta has a shoulder wound that’s healing nicely, but Roka’s leg was broken and the pain is considerable. It was beyond my skill to set, although Legolas did the trick very neatly. Even so, Roka will probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Only Merimac escaped with no injury.

Oh, Pio and Mithadan and Bird, how I wished you’d been there! Not only to share in our family’s joy, however tempered it may be, but for a very practical reason. We could have used your muscle and bulk to help us return home. We had an assortment of injured hobbits to care for, most of whom were unable to walk. We built sledges so that the ponies could drag those most grievously wounded back towards our settlement, but others needed help walking and Holly was still so frightened that I carried her in my arms.

I said that Merimac escaped with no real injury, but that is not actually true. There are injuries to the body and others to the mind. And it is the latter that has stricken Maura. Whether this came from the dangers of Greenwood, or some time before, we cannot say. He remembers nothing, absolutely nothing about what happened to him in his earlier life. When I say the name 'Zira' or 'Ban' or mention 'Tol Fuin', his face shows no recognition. All his Elvish language and lore has vanished, his knowledge of the Valar and Eru, and even his ability to read the common speech. Most frustrating of all, he does not remember me. Sometimes it tears at my heart to see him this way, yet he himself seems to accept this puzzling situation with singular grace and composure.

Yet it is not so bad for me either. He is still Maura, the same gentle man I knew. If he does not know the Powers by name, he still does their bidding in his heart. He is patient and loving to me and already I can see that his feelings are still there, even if he does not fully understand them. While it may sound cocky or overconfident, I am certain that he will choose me for his own very quickly, just as he chose me in Beleriand, and again in the Shire. And this time, there will be a child, perhaps more if Elbereth smiles on us.

Gamba idolizes Meri as a great Orc killer and already the Elders are saying what a fine military leader he will make if the Orcs continue their incursions into the area.

Whatever happens, I am well content. I asked for a chance to make new memories and that is exactly what I have been given. The old ones are gone. Whether or not they will return, I do not know. But I will not sit around fretting and fuming. I have been granted enough strength to turn the page and go on.

It would be a grievous thing and impolite to accept such a blessing without a nod of thanks to Bilbo and, even more importantly, to the Power who granted our plea in whatever form or fashion. And to you, my distant friends, on Meneltarma and Eressea and, most of all, in Minas Tirith, I wish that you were here to laugh with me…..nay, with all of us. We will not forget.

Written in joy before my warm hearth, this 30th day of Blotmath

[piosenniel]

Pio lay back on the bed, laughing. The chill of the previous entries in the journal had gone, and now a certain warmth and satisfaction coursed through her. The plea had been answered; the hope longed for, now realized. She sat back up and watched as Mithadan flipped casually through the remaining pages.

‘More good news?’ she commented, leaning in against him to see the page he had open before him.

‘Yes, for the most part, but no, too.’ His eyes held a faraway look. ‘There were many joys along the way for our companions and their families. And Cami has written them down faithfully, ever the chronicler to the end.’ He turned the pages to various entries he had skimmed. ‘Look here,’ he said, pointing with his finger to them as he went along.

Her eyes delighted in the entries he showed her. Here was the marriage of Came and Maura. ‘No, Merimac it is,’ she reminded herself firmly. And here the births of their children. Rory first. ‘So that is what she called him!’ she thought, rolling the sound on her tongue and well as in her mind.

‘A good name,’ said Mithadan, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘But look here.’

‘A daughter, too!’ Pio grinned at the entry. ‘And she has named her Daisy! Little Holly must be pleased to be the older sister of such a likely crew.’

Ah! So this is where your ‘no’ comes in, does it not? He nodded, as she continued. Our happiness for them tempered by the understanding that they are all long gone from us. Now the faraway look was in her eyes - reminded that these little ones, so close in age to her children would never be their playmates, companions through childhood, or friends in old age.

He leafed through the pages, pushing further into the story of their companions. There was Rose, grown up now, and marrying. Having children of her own. Here the marriages and families begun for Holly, Rory, and Daisy.

And Gamba! Married! He had found some peace in his life, she hoped.

Faithfully tracked were the places the families had moved to and settled in. Cami, she noted, had moved at last to Rivendell. She could picture her dear friend there. Nosing happily through the many rooms and shelves of the library. She laughed, sharing the image with Mithadan - the Elf who oversaw it bending his tall frame to speak with the little, grey haired Hobbit in whispered conference as they looked through one scroll and then the next. Both happy to have found another who delighted in the riches of history.

‘I wonder what other writings of hers are there,’ mused Pio, out loud. ‘The Elves – would they take them with them as they sail West . . . or would we find them still there in the dustless rooms, tucked away carefully on a low shelf.’

‘No, Piosenniel!’ His voice cut through her branching thoughts and plans. Startled out of her reverie, she glanced up, and found him grinning. ‘You were away from me before the twins were born. You cannot think I would want you gone now, too.’ He raised his eyebrows at her before she could get out a word of protest. ‘And besides,’ he said, ‘I just promised Amaranthas not that long ago, I would keep you close and not allow you to go “traipsing off”. Can’t break a promise to the Old Dragon.’

‘But we could . . .’ she began, trying a different tack.

‘No, there are things to be done here. I’m in the midst of arranging a trade mission for the Star. There are merchants depending on us to carry that through for them. And the babies, and Gilly . . . and we two . . . our family . . . has just settled in. I’m appealing to your better sense to stay here.’

His last words struck her funny, and he looked aside at her as she burst out laughing. ‘My better sense, eh? Even now I can see Cami wagging her finger at me, weighing in on your side of the argument.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Alright, then I shall concede to my “better sense”. But we will all be going on the voyage . . . with you . . .’ She smiled as he agreed. ‘But I shall send a messenger to Rivendell,’ she thought to herself. ‘To see what can be found.’

*******

The hour had grown quite late as they paged through the ledger, stopping here and there to linger over an entry and to reminisce. Mithadan at long last begged off, saying he would read more tomorrow. He must be up early, he said, to make the final meeting with the merchants and to see to a crew.

Not yet tired, Pio lingered a while longer over the entries, turning the lamp down low so as not to wake him. The ones near the end were shorter and written in several different hands. Cami had died and others had picked up where she left off and others after them.

The words of the journal were bittersweet in the Elf’s mind . . . the thoughts double edged. Bringing both joy and sadness . . . though the joy was undimmed by the fact that they had all now passed beyond her . . . and even the sadness felt a natural, if unwanted, part of lives now completed.

[piosenniel]

Child and Pio's collaborative post

She yawned, the night now lay in its late watches . . . the lamp burned even lower. Pio closed the journal, intending to get some sleep before daylight crept on her and the twins rose to begin their day. She brought the back cover of the book in a closing arc, thinking she would finish the last of the entries when she woke. But something caught her eye in the dim light.

There on the very last page, the side which faced the inner surface of the leather cover was a list. Written in a tiny letters, the spidery script gave dates and brief comments on important events in the Hobbits’ lives. Cami’s hand, it was, that had begun the barebones record and later the same hands that had taken up the entries in the main body of the book after her death carried it on.

Pio held the lamp closer over the page, shielding the light from the sleeping Mithadan with her body as she turned up the wick, just a little. There it all was . . . a simply done chronicle of events . . . dates one after the other with brief comments. The whole of her friends’ lives in an area barely larger than her hand.

Her index finger ran slowly down the list, begun along the right hand edge of the paper and then trailing down the middle of the same page, pausing occasionally over the ones that stood out for her . . .

~*~

1000 The marriage of Camelia Goodchild and Merimac Zaragamba enrolled before the council on 25th of Foreyule, 1000 of the Third Age; adoption of Holly at the same time

1001 Birth of Rorimac (Rory) Zaragamba, 2 Astron 1001

1002 Birth of Daisy Zaragamba, 11 Astron 1002

1016 Rose comes of age, marries Hamlan Galbasi

1017 Gamba comes of age

1020 Gamba explores the Langwell river area; in subsequent years he is sometimes accompanied by his various brothers.

1020 Birth of Rose’s daughter Peony

1030 Birth of Rose’s son Hal

1030 Daisy marries

1034 Rory marries

1035 Maura dies unexpectedly at the hands of an Orc

1037 Holly marries Froderick Maplehill; several children are born in subsequent years

1050 Cami retires to Rivendell where she can study and write

1050 Gamba marries Opal

1055 Cami dies

1056 Rose and family move to Weathertop

1056 Holly, Rory and Daisy’s family move north in the Misty Mountains; also Ban and Roka.

1084 Gamba dies

1093 Holly dies

1095 Rory dies

1101 Daisy dies


~*~

The lamp guttered out, the oil in it spent. Pio lay down in the bed, the lamp now put safely back on the table. The book she put back in the drawer for safekeeping.

It would be there when she woke, she thought, drifting off . . . the story of her friends caught forever between its worn covers . . .

[piosenniel]

~*~ FINIS ~*~

[piosenniel]

~*~ To Elvenhome ~*~