In the Shadow of the Star: Part 1 [Archive] - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Child of the 7th Age

01-24-2003, 12:41 PM

An elderly hobbit ambled towards the Sea, watching the morning sun reach out its golden rays to enfold the timeless shore of Tol Eressea. Endless white-capped waves lapped gently against the beach, while a long-legged seabird circled and dived from above, wading though the shallows and poking its beak into hidden crevices and cracks. The hobbit felt the warmth of the sun upon his face and back. He stopped a moment on the shore, scooping up a handful of white sand and letting it trickle down through his fingers.

Leaving all this behind wouldn't be easy. Yet, his time in the West was drawing to a close. Bilbo had lived longer than any hobbit had a right to expect, and enjoyed an abundance of riches which he felt to be greater than anything he deserved. His life had been one of comparative ease, and he'd known so many friends and kin, whose hearts had touched his own.

Things had not seemed so hopeful just eleven years before when he and Frodo first arrived on Cirdan's ship. His body had been weary, his mind confused, with the burden of age pressing on his head. Yet Bilbo had been surprised to see clarity and vigor return. Now, he took pleasure in a tiny interval of peace set within a land of great beauty.

His younger cousin Frodo, his adopted heir, had not found things so easy. There had been bad days and good days, with tears and talks and solitary rambles, as Frodo endeavored to sort out everything that had happened to him. Most of all there had been Bilbo's unwavering affection and the watchful presence of Gandalf and Galadriel, whose wisdom had helped Frodo comprehend much that at first seemed beyond the ken of a simple hobbit.

Bilbo could see that the burden of the Ring had left a mark on his cousin that not even the West could erase. There were finely etched lines and cracks evident in Frodo's face, mirrored deep within his eyes, as if a glass had been lifted up and shattered into a thousand pieces. Those pieces could never be made whole again, at least not within the boundaries of Arda.

Yet out of this struggle and near despair, Frodo had managed to inch his way back a little at a time, in some ways the same hobbit and in others quite different than what had gone before. Like Gandalf's foretelling in the Red Book, Frodo had become like a glass filled with clear light, a tiny reflection of Galadriel's phial. Each splintered fragment cast back its own ray, all the more beautiful for the pattern of brokeness which glittered underneath like a delicate crystal.

It was only now, when Bilbo felt assured of Frodo's healing, that he had begun to consider continuing on with his own journey. Yet there was still one question inside his head that begged for an answer.

Frodo had been special, but the lad was not the only hobbit whom Bilbo had befriended. For many years, he had reached out to the youngsters in the Shire, inviting them to Bag-end to listen to stories or share his love of Elves. Most were distant kin like Angelica Baggins, or Merri, or Pippin. A few were neighbors living in nearby Bagshot Row.

Those youngsters had looked up to Bilbo, and relied on him for many things. He had no intention of leaving until he was sure they had each found their niche in life.

Talking with Gandalf, Bilbo had been relieved to discover that his younger friends were quite happy with how their lives had turned out. That is, all except one. There was one name at the bottom of the list that still troubled him. He resolved to speak with Gandalf again to see if anything could be done.

[ February 15, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

01-24-2003, 12:41 PM

"Bilbo Baggins, you are a meddlesome fool! Can't you leave well enough alone?"

Gandalf stared at the older hobbit with obvious irritation, while Frodo lowered his head, looked away, and smiled slyly to himself. He had seen Bilbo use these tactics on more than one occasion, and, given the soft spot Gandalf had for the elderly hobbit, they often accomplished exactly what he wanted.

Bilbo responded back without any hesitation, "No, I can't leave well enough alone, when well enough is not good enough for Cami!

"Gandalf, you don't know this girl the way I do. You have made a dreadful miscalculation. There is an old hobbit saying that every youngster in the Shire knows: 'Life is a comedy for those who think, and a tragedy for those who feel'. I don't know what nonsense Cami has told you about how bright she is, or how many tales she's memorized. But I can tell you this. The thing that makes this girl special is not her booklearning. It is her heart, her ability to feel, her loyalty to those she loves."

"And now you have put her in this miserable situation, binding her heart to a hobbit whom she can not be with inside the circles of Arda. And, worse than that, you did not give either of them a chance to repeat their vows publicly, to stand as husband and wife before their own people."

"Bilbo...," Gandalf attempted to interject a word with little success.

Bilbo shamelessly continued, "And don't give me any faddle that she is not really his wife, or that she will go out and find herself a mate among her fellow hobbits. Faddle, pure faddle. This girl is singleminded in certain things. You should have realized that before you placed her in this situation. But now that you have done so, I insist that something be done to help her."

Bilbo hesitated for a minute, but then gained a second wind, and decided to list his other complaints, "And that's not the worst of it! You have led Cami to Greenwood which, in a space of a few years, will become totally uninhabitable save for spiders and Orcs. You have saddled her with a dozen suitors whom she must beat back with a broom and, worst of all, you have burdened her with a burrowful of young hobbit lads who might generously be described as 'difficult.'"

"Bilbo Baggins! you did not listen to anything I said before. First, I did not personally do any of these things to Cami. They were free choices she made on her own. Second, there were reasons why Cami was asked to carry a burden in this matter of the Star. Reasons that go far beyond the woman herself, or even her hobbit kin." Gandalf shot a withering glance towards Bilbo.

Up till now the conversation, for all its heat and volume, had been openly cheerful. But, at this point, there was a definite change in mood. Bilbo glanced briefly over at Frodo and then dropped his eyes. He suddenly looked much older, as his voice trailed off in a whispered sigh. "Yes, I know, there are always good reasons, reasons that go far beyond anything I can understand. But, at the end, someone is still left alone trying to put the pieces back together. I've seen too much of it, Gandalf. Is there nothing you can do to help this girl?"

Gandalf, or Olorin, as he was more commonly known in these lands, put his hand up to his brow and sighed. There was a look of genuine sorrow in his eyes. "This thing is beyond me. But there are others who might be able to help, although perhaps not in the way you are thinking. It is even possible that this gift could bring healing to more than one." His eyes strayed momentarily in Frodo's direction.

Bilbo stood up, and rushed over to embrace the Maia, "Please, help. I know my time is ending, and I must move on. I'm willing. But it's hard leaving behind so much sadness. Is there nothing we can do?"

Gandalf looked down affectionately at the small white head, and slipped his hand though the mass of tangled curls, "We will try Bilbo, we will certainly try."

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

01-24-2003, 12:45 PM

In the middle reaches of Greenwood, in the year 1000 of the Third Age, a community of some seven hundred hobbits had lately taken up residence near the eastern boundary of the woods. Most had constructed rough, temporary burrows on the ridges, looking down over a series of streams, an area rich with fish and many types of game. A smaller number had chosen to live in campsites set up above ground, while a few adventurous souls, mostly Fallohide in origin, had built flets in the treetops similar to those shelters that were common in Lothlorien.

There was a great deal of practical work to be done in building homes, securing food, and managing all the details of an ordered community. The Council of Elders met in endlessly long meetings, trying to untangle disputes between hobbits of varying clans, and determine who had the rights to a particular parcel of land when two different families each decided to build their home in the exact same spot.

When the Elders met in their circle, their deliberations were generally guided by a middle-aged hobbit woman who sat off a bit at the far end of the campfire, listening carefully to everything that was said. She was short and plumpish with brown curls, green eyes, and an open, pleasant face. Some referred to her as Nitir, and others as Cami, although she seemed to prefer the latter name.

Cami occupied a special place in the circle, and, even though the male hobbits might not normally defer to their womenfolk at home, they seemed willing to accept her guidance, purposely turning to her for help when thorny problems and disputes arose. She was astute and alert, and often thought of things that the other hobbits had not considered. It was as if she saw things differently than they did, which was indeed the case, for she had come from an age and place that was totally different than the one in which the rest of them had been born.

Cami lived in a small and simple burrow that looked no different than those belonging to her neighbors. She had five adopted sons--Gamba, Asta, Roka, Ban, and Maura--and one adoted daughter Rose, the only one of the group who was actually related to her by blood. It was Rose who stuck with Cami most closely.

The lads loved her dearly, but were more likely to scamper off on their own adventures under the guidance of Gamba, the eldest boy, who almost acted as a surrogate father for them. In the judgment of many neighbors, this was an unusual arrangement, which occasioned more than one raised eyebrow. But, given who Cami was and what she stood for, few were about to say anything directly critical to her face.

Most of the community, and even the Elders, secretly reasoned that the best way to fix this situation was to find Cami a good hobbit to share her bed and burrow. There were a string of suitors turning up, night and day, all generously offering their hearts and earthly possessions to this kind but odd woman who'd come to live among them.

Cami treated each suitor with equal politeness and respect, then packed them out the door with a strong "no thank you." If truth be told, the neighbors had begun placing wagers whether or not the woman's heart could ever be won, but they were still not ready to give up the attempt.

Cami was enormously busy with everything she had to do, but she was also just a little lonely. She fiercely missed her old friends, and found it difficult to break through to the older hobbits in the community on any kind of equal or intimate basis. Aside from the few who were trying to win her hand, the Elders treated her with immaculate respect and a certain amount of distance. Occasionally, when no one was looking, she remembered back to her time with Maura, when she had been so accepted and loved, and then she cried a few secret tears of regret.

Perhaps the hardest thing of all was recognizing that the boys would never truly acknowedge her as their mother in the same way that she had hoped for. On one level, they were a family. They laughed and played and worked together. Cami would rise up and defend her brood against anyone who dared question them.

Yet, there were times when she instructed the younger ones to do something, and before they agreed, they took a hidden, side-long glance at Gamba to make sure he approved. Once, in starry dreams, she'd glimpsed a fleeting image of a distant time when, older by a good many years, she'd seen the boys leave one-by-one, following in Gamba's footsteps, to some far away place where she could not go. The last to leave had been Maura, the littlest one who was the favorite of her heart. She had stood on a ridge and sadly waved goodbye, wondering why so many people had to leave her in this life.

The scene of departure struck a chill in her bones. Hobbits in the Shire did not behave that way. They stayed in one spot, usually next door to their parents. Her memories of the Shire were fading, as Gandalf had predicted they would, yet certain feelings and premonitions stubbornly hung on, even in this remote time and place.

Cami was happiest when the little ones from the neighborhood came to her burrow to learn their letters and numbers. There were no books to be had, a loss she grievously deplored. But, when she wrote out the words, and they managed to decipher them, the shy smiles on their faces melted her heart. Someday, she promised, when she had time, she would sit down and write a book for the little ones to help them remember a bit more of their past. It would be nothing that would upset the balance of time, just lists of families and a few bits of lore that each clan wanted to preserve.

The other time Cami was most happy was when she and Rose rode off on their healing rounds and made sure that even the smallest community had someone who could manage simple illnesses and wounds. She had already selected a number of likely hobbit lasses and lads whom she was beginning to teach the more intricate questions of healing and herbal lore. They looked forward to her visits and instruction, and, if she had known it, were beginning to regard her with deep affection in a way quite different than their parents.

Occasionally, these healing rounds carried them deep into Greenwood to visit those hobbits who'd chosen to live a life in the wild. Sometimes they met a small band of woodland Elves. Whether it was Gandalf's influence, Piosenniel's earlier threats, or Cami's own ability to earn their respect, the Elves generally greeted her in friendship, and even allowed the two women to share their campfire and listen to their songs and tales. In a world where no books existed, Cami always felt she had come to a place of magic, one from which she was sadly shut off in her own life and community.

Sometimes, Cami remembered Maura and the other life she might have led, if only things had been different. But, on bad days, it seemed to slip so far away that she found it harder and harder to see the images clearly. Still, she would not have given up her love for Maura, not for all the riches in the world, or even for a path less lonely. Wherever Maura might be now, Cami knew he was still the center of her life. Whatever good she did in Arda, whatever lives she managed to touch, it was because he'd given her the courage to follow duty, but not forget the cries of her heart.

Cami sometimes felt as if there was something she'd left undone from her quest on the Star. Yet, she couldn't imagine what that might be. In the daytime she was very busy, and, at night, her fea roamed somewhere else, searching for those she'd left behind. Only, so far, she hadn't found anyone at all. And, in the morning, she remembered nothing.

She snuggled closer to little Maura and Ban, who'd come stumbling into her bed, a rare treat since the three older boys had gone off for several weeks on a hunting expedition in Greenwood with the Greenbottle family, and Rose was with her friend Anee. She pushed her nose deep in the smallest lad's curls and felt a few silent tears drop down, wetting the edge of her lashes.

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

Child of the 7th Age

01-24-2003, 12:46 PM

Olorin had returned to the household of Nienna and, with her consent, approached her brother Irmo, or Lorien, who, as master of visions and dreams, dwells in the gardens of repose. Within those gardens stands Lake Lorellin where the grey-clad Este, wife to Lorien, sleeps on an isle in the midst of its clear waters.

These gardens are the most beautiful in all of Arda. They contain flowers of delicate colors and hues, and sweet-flowing fountains whose waters are said to carry healing. Sometimes, silver mists rise up from the ground and drape all in mystery and loveliness, acting like a curtain that descends over the eyes of Men and Elves when they wander through the land of dreams.

It was here that Olorin came to inquire if anything could be done to grant the hobbit's request before it was his time to pass beyond the circles of Arda. Because Bilbo had been a faithful Ringbearer, Lorien listened carefully to the words Olorin spoke. And he looked deep into the eyes of the Maia and saw great wisdom and compassion reflected there.

Then Lorien turned and sighed. "I have known for some time you would bring this matter before me, so I went to my wife and spoke with her. For when she sleeps, she sees many things, and watches those who wander nightly searching for others whom they love. In truth, the hobbits whom you describe, Camelia and Maura, are known to her. Though separated by untold years, they search for each other in sleep and dreaming, seeking to pierce the veil of time and come into each other's arms. By night, they pass within a finger's breadth of each other, yet, being mortals, lack the eyes to see."

The image Lorien called up tugged hard at Olorin's heart, as the Grey Pilgrim thought back to his days in Beleriand, and to the two hobbits who had led their people from the prison camp of Ladros to the freedom of Tol Fuin. "Can nothing be done to aid them?"

Lorien replied, "The portal of time has closed, and may not be opened again to those on the Star. Manwe has spoken to me concerning this matter, and his dictates are not to be denied. And yet, ...." Lorien's voice trailed off for a moment, before he continued.

"There is another way, and that is the path of visions and dreams. Since these two already seek each other, it may be possible to open their eyes and grant them wisdom that is normally withheld from the Children of Men and Hobbits. In this way they may watch over one another through all their years in dream, although their bodies remain far apart. But, for this to come about, they must first journey to a timeless place where vision and reality blend so that, for a brief instant of time, their minds and bodies join."

"Lorien, or the Blessed Lands?" Gandalf interrupted. "Do you speak of these? But such places are meant for Elves."

"Olorin, there are more wonders in Middle-earth than even you have imagined. This garden stands at the center of a hub. Its silver tendrils reach out to the free folk, and, for each of them, one or more chambers have been set aside, that which best suits their nature, where dream and reality walk hand-in-hand, and limitations of time or space mean but little."

Olorin's eyes went wide with wonder, as he considered this possibility, "But where are there such places for hobbits like Maura and Cami?"

Lorien smiled, then laughed, "I can not reveal all my secrets to you. But know that every people has its own true place. For hobbits, there is one spot filled with companionship, and another that mirrors the goodness of the land. For these things speak to their people most deeply."

"I will say no more, since I will act as the hobbits' guide and watch over them. For there are dangers in what they would attempt. Both they, and those about them, must remain alert."

Then the two spoke at length about what Olorin would say to Bilbo once he returned to the isle of Tol Eressea.

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A small vessel skirted the isle of Tol Fuin, searching for a protected cove amid the innumerable boulders and cliffs that spanned the length of the shore. At the tiller stood a solitary figure in grey robes. His eyes scanned the coastline, as he carefully maneuvered his craft through jagged rocks and shallows. When a fresh gust of wind filled the sail, tilting the skiff towards the west, Ancalimon finally spotted the half-hidden sandy beach and dropped anchor close to shore.

It had been over a year since he'd last seen the hobbits. At that time, they had just arrived on the island and were struggling to find shelter and food to withstand the depths of winter. Now, much had changed. The hot sun of late summer beat down on a small but well ordered community that had grown up near the coast. Ancalimon could see burrows dug neatly on an overhead ridge, as well as outlines of fields rich with crops and a surprising variety of animals. A number of small fishing vessels were drawn up on the sand while their owners, who looked to be Stoors, worked to mend and strengthen the nets.

A group of hobbit children chasing minnows through the waves were the first to greet their new visitor. As the Grey Pilgrim slipped over the side of his boat, he was instantly engulfed by welcoming arms. They begged to see what he had brought them, pointing to the heavy brown sack which was slung about his back.

"Later, I promise," he laughed. "But first take me to Loremaster."

One of the younger boys proudly announced. "Now, we have two Loremasters. Maura who teaches and Lindo who sings. Which one do you want? I am one of Lindo's boys. He is my father."

Ancalimon smiled, reached out a hand to grip the lad's shoulder, "I'm sure I'll be speaking to Lindo as well, since I intend to stay for a while. But, right now, could you take me to Maura?"

The childen responded by tugging on the edge of Ancalimon's cloak and beckoning him on with their hands. They guided their guest up the beach to the row of burrows set highest on the ridge. At the far end of the settlement, under the shade of a stately beech tree, there was a tidy burrow with a round door and a surrounding garden crowded with a tangle of sweet flowers and herbs and vines.

As Ancalimon stooped to smell the heady fragrance of the blossoms, his eyes fell on a stubborn patch of athelas, blooming sturdily where no athelas should bloom. For one instant, but only an instant, he questioned why the plant was growing in such an unlikely spot, so far from the lands and age that had given it life. Yet, who was he to say whether a miracle should or should not be? For athelas, like love, is a habinger of hope for folk whose hearts and bodies ache. And, in matters such as these, differences of time and place often appear very unimportant.

With that wistful reminder, he lifted up his staff to pound against the door, waiting for someone to let him inside. It was on his third try that a tall hobbit emerged from behind the house, cradling a crying infant in a sling at his chest, and carrying a hoe in his left hand.

The hobbit's reaction was instantaneous. A smile wreathed his face, as he threw down the hoe and rushed to embrace Ancalimon.

The peddler responded with genuine affection. "Maura Took, you rascal. It is good to see you. When I got no answer at your door, I thought you'd decided that I was more trouble than I was worth."

"No, no, that's not true. Zira's little one was singing so loudly with all her complaints that I was lucky to hear you at all."

"This is your new niece then?"

Maura beamed with pride, "Yes, this is Azra, named in remembrance of a dear friend. She was born just six months ago. My sister Zira is on her rounds as a healer, and Ban is working in the fields, so Uncle Maura was delegated to tend the babe."

"And Abar?" Gandalf ask, referring to Zira and Ban's eldest son.

"He is at Lindo's playing with some of the Snowhobbits. He has become quite the young lad, since you last saw him."

Maura invited Ancalimon inside and set some food and drink between them to share. They sat down together and began to speak in earnest. They talked at length of what had happened to the hobbits since the fall of Beleriand, and how fine a place Tol Fuin had turned out to be. Ancalimon gave Maura two books of lore, one Elvish and one Mannish, so that it would be easier for him to pass on knowledge to the younger ones. The hobbit set these volumes on the shelf beside the few others that he had managed to bring with him to the isle, including the journal of the wise-woman Andreth, which Cami had discovered in Ladros.

Maura wistfully fingered the old leather binding of Andreth's journal and gazed over towards Ancalimon. There was silence between them for a full minute. Then Maura spoke in softer tones, "Can you tell me anything, anything at all about her?"

"Only this. That she works diligently to bring goodness and healing to her people in Greenwood, especially the little ones who have come to rely on her. That her promises to you stand at the center of her life, even now. And that she has found much joy, but it is always tinged with sorrow and longing."

Maura answered simply, "It is little different for me." Then he looked away, and went to gather up the plates, steering the conversation towards other subjects.

By mid-afternoon, Ancalimon excused himself, and inquired about the way to Lindo's burrow, as there were other matters he wished to discuss with him. And, to Maura's delight, the Grey Pilgrim promised to return for the family's evening meal and to stay with the hobbits for a good number of days.

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

piosenniel

01-25-2003, 05:56 AM

Hísimë, Year 11 of the Fourth Age

She had not intended to stay this long. It was to have been a quick trip to the Shire, gathering in threads to what most would now call an old story. But to her, the faces she had left behind were fresh in her memory. As if just yesterday she had seen Cami draw the attention of her young charges to a small red fox as it flicked its tail and ran to hide from their footsteps. And still she heard the young ones’ laughter peal out through the waiting trees and run down the trail beyond.

Mithadan had been busy; his time taken up in seeing to the repair and refitting of The Lonely Star. He was good at this, and she was not. It was necessary, she understood, if they were to take the ship out again, but nonetheless, she found it a tedious task, and was glad that he had taken over the supervision of it. She found life in Minas Anor a bit confining, also. And there was only so much time she could spend dockside in her old haunts, listening to tales of voyages, before even that grew stale, and she longed to see fresh sights herself.

It had been the quilt, she recalled, that prompted her to go north, seeking a finish to the history of her dear friend. She had taken it out, intending to store it carefully in her cedar wood chest. A basket of lavender to tuck among the layers was at her feet as she unfolded it. The fresh scent of the small sprays of blue flowers filled the room, bringing up memories of the heady scent of blooms that grew in abundance on Tol Meneltarma.

She shook out the quilt and laid it on her bed. There before her lay the story of her last voyage on the Lonely Star. She smiled and touched each square of it fondly, the memories vivid as her fingers ran over the cloth blocks. Her brow furrowed as she came to the last square. The story was not complete. It only told the tale to Númenor, not what lay beyond.

And so Pio found herself, in mid Yavannië, Year 11 of the Fourth Age, bidding farewell to Mithadan. She was on her way to trace the history of her old companion, Cami Goodchild. In the back of her mind was also her promise to Bird, that she would seek clues to the shapechanger race's history. It was her hope that in seeking for the one there would be clues to the other. At any rate, it was to have been only a short trip.

It was not to be so. Time and circumstance conspired against her best intentions, as she found herself filling in as Innkeeper at the Green Dragon in Bywater.

*********************************************
Child's Post:

Ban had already curled up asleep for over an hour when Cami sang a lullabye to little Maura, one that she remembered her own mother crooning long years ago in the Shire. She watched the boy's eyelids flutter, grow heavier, and then become still as he drifted off in sleep. She felt curiously alert and alive, and could not seem to settle for the night. Being very careful not to disturb the boys, she slipped out of bed and padded over to the table where her own work lay strewn about.

Lists, always more lists! Lists of chores and supplies, lists of important things to remember. The hard thing now was securing enough vellum and ink for the lists she intended to make. Radagast had given her a generous supply, but it would not last forever. Perhaps she'd have to learn to do what the other hobbits did, keeping things straight in her head and not bothering to write them down. But something inside her resisted that. It seemed like another small step in a direction that was very different than the one Bilbo had taught her to go.

As Cami sat down at the table to resume her work, she impulsively reached out, pulling back the heavy leather curtain that had been tacked over the window to keep out the cold night air. The sky looked particularly beautiful tonight. She could see Bright Earendil making his way across the heavens, a glittering beacon of hope, and a personal reminder from a time long ago. She offered a silent plea to whichever of the Valar might be listening that they should take care of her children, her separated friends, and especially the one she held most dear. Then, she lay her head down on the table, unexplainably overcome with drowsiness, and closed her eyes to rest.

Despite all her curiosity and long reflections, Cami could never reconstruct exactly what happened next. From the few scant glimmerings still in her head, there had been a room filled with light, and a serious conversation, only no real words had been spoken. She did remember objecting to leaving little Maura and Ban alone, but had then received assurance that others would be watching over him as well as the others in her family, and that she would soon see them again.

Cami knew she'd said yes to something. Yet, whatever it might be, she couldn't recall. Then all had gone misty, a silver mist that was as soft and sweet as the tiny instant of awareness that comes at the moment when the curtain of night lifts to reveal the sudden surprise of morning. After that, she knew nothing until she woke up lying in a fine wooden bed, nestled in a thick feather bolster, with the warm sun streaming down on her through a large pane of clear glass.

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

Pio's Post:

She had seen the tail of his red flannel shirt just as it disappeared into the stables. Standing on the low porch to the kitchen’s entry, she hailed him in a most unladylike manner, yelling loudly, so that he could not say he had not heard her.

‘Hob Hamfast! Come here and help me for a moment!’

Pio watched as his surprised face peeked round the edge of the stable entrance. She waved him over, a smile on her face for encouragement, and noted his slow amble toward her. She sighed to herself. They were still getting used to her, still a little afraid. ‘Well, who would not be afraid,’ she mused to herself, ‘if one of the Eldar appeared out of nowhere and started barking orders at you.’

She had arrived at the Green Dragon just a week and a half ago, surprised to find one of her old acquaintances now ran the inn. He had been called away just two days later, a sudden emergency, he said, and would she consider overseeing the running of the inn until his return. She had a fair head for business, he said, and she laughed at this idea of her. It practically runs itself, he went on. And besides, most of her concerns would be to keep the peace in the inn, and he was well aware that she could do that. Nothing long term, just a few days, he had assured her.

Those few days had turned into a week now, and still no word of his return. The staff at the inn had looked at her warily when she called them together to explain what she would be doing. They had come at first to a sort of uneasy truce, though behind their pleasant faces she could see their hesitations. ‘An Elvish taskmaster! Would she be impossible to please? And why did she dress like some wandering warrior? And would she use those knives at her belt readily if they did not please her?’

She had put her knives away, though the ones hidden in her boot tops and beneath the sleeves of her tunic remained. Her manner of dress she did not change, only that she made sure to wear garments that were clean and unrumpled from being thrown on the floor. And she had made sure to ask for their advice on how things were done at the inn, to appear to take their comments into consideration as she made her decisions. Old habits die hard, though, and at the last consideration it was always her decision which stood.

‘What can I do for you, Mistress Pio?’ came the question from Hob. He had stopped in the yard to wash the stable grime from his hands, and now stood drying them on the tail of his shirt.

‘I need the use of your muscle, Hob.’ He followed her as she made her way to the staircase in the Common Room, that led to the inn’s rooms above. He listened as she told him there were some important visitors that would be coming to the inn later that day. She wanted to get the big room ready for them, and she needed his help to flip the mattress.

They paused outside the door to the inn’s best room. ‘Go on in and strip the old linens from the bed, if you will.’ she directed him. ‘I am just going to the linen closet to find fresh sheets and a coverlet for it.’

Her head was stuck in the closet, her hands pulling out sheets and such when she heard a commotion from the doorway. She turned to see Hob backing out of the room, red faced and stammering. ‘Begging your pardon, Miss!’ he kept saying, as he stumbled backwards.

Pio laid the sheets on the hallway table and turned the Hobbit toward her, a questioning look on her face. He pointed toward the open door, eyes wide. ‘We can’t make the bed, Mistress! There’s someone in it!’ She grasped him firmly by the shoulder and turned him about. Both of them entered the room together.

He pointed at the shaking lump hidden beneath the quilt, and Pio pushed him behind her, drawing the knife from her boot. In an icy voice she commanded the vagrant who had stolen into the inn’s room without paying to come out and face her. Hob peeped from behind her, not wanting to miss any of the action.

Two hands appeared at the upper edge of the quilt, then a mass of brown curls, as the quilt slowly drew down from the hidden form. A face she thought never to see again in the circles of this world peeked out at her, a look of disbelief across it as the brown eyes stared back into her grey ones.

‘Cami!’

The knife in her hand clattered to her floor. Tears clouded her eyes as she sat down quickly on the bed and hugged her dear friend fiercely.

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

Child's post

Cami struggled to rub the sleep from her eyes and to shake off her lingering sense of drowsiness and confusion. Then she shot up in surprise at the sudden sight of the familiar figure seated beside her on the bolster.

"Piosenniel, is that you?" she demanded, staring increduously at the Elf.

"Yes, yes, it's me! What are you doing here?"

Cami hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to respond to her friend. Her head felt clear, her mind sharp and alert, yet she had not the slightest idea how to answer Pio's question. "I'm not sure. I remember very little. I know it wasn't anything I did. One minute I was sitting in my burrow in Greenwood feeling sleepy, and now I'm here."

Cami shook her head, hesitent to reveal anything that sounded so strange even to her own ears. "Maybe all this is a dream. Only, if it is, it's a dream that feels more wide awake than life itself. I remember something about a room and a bright light and a conversation without words.... Oh, dear, none of this makes any sense, does it?"

"Yet, something inside me says I belong here, at least for now, though I couldn't tell you how or why." Her confession sounded inadequate and absurd, yet it was as close to the truth as any words she could manage to spell out.

Cami turned and stared desperately into Pio's eyes, seaching for some reasonable explanation as to why all this had happened. Then she sprinted over to the window and gazed outside. She could see the neat streets of Bywater with their burrows and outlying fields of green, and, just beyond those, the even larger outline of Hobbiton itself. Her heart beat curiously fast as she spied the scenes of her childhood again spread out before her gaze.

Cami's fingers instinctively groped for the green gemstone that hung about her neck. She seemed relieved and comforted to find it there again. Her tone was calm and insistent as she turned to ask, "Piosenniel, what is this place? And when is it? If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was the Shire, not far from where I was born and grew up in Hobbiton. What happened to Greenwood, and all the hobbits who were with me from the Tombs? Was everything that happened on the Star only a dream?"

Pio’s Post

Fearing that her friend was some figment of a tired mind, Pio held on to her hand tightly. The work at the Inn had been steady, leaving little time for rest, and less time than that for the real reason she had come to the Shire in the first place. She had come to find Cami, that is, what had happened to Cami after she and her little band of Hobbits had left the Lonely Star and gone north with the Elves. Was this some strange quirk of pregnancy and overwork - a hallucination that she had indeed found her friend? Impossible!

She reached out quickly with her free hand and pinched the Hobbit hard on the arm. Cami let out a surprised yelp and slapped her smartly on the cheek. Both women stared at each other, aghast. Then Pio fell back on the bed howling with laughter. Cami looked sternly at her, and rubbed at the place where the Elf had pinched her. ‘It’s going to leave a bruise, you know!’ she said indignantly.

Pio raised herself up on her elbows, still laughing, and looked warmly at her friend, a look of pure delight and amazement played across the features of her face. ‘You are really here . . . truly here. I thought never to see you again, Cami. Never.’ She reached out softly for her friend’s hand, and brought it to her cheek. ‘I have been searching for any news of you since I arrived here, any inkling of what had become of you, what you had done, where you had gone. And now I have you here beside me, like some great gift granted for this space of time.’

‘It was not a dream, Cami. The voyage and task of the Lonely Star was real. My last remembrance of you is as you went down the trail from the Anduin, heading north with the Elves from Eryn Lasgalen. They brought you to Greenwood, I do know that, and from there you and your family traveled west. Here, to the Shire.’

Pio stood up and drew back fully the curtains at the window. The sun shone in warmly through the leaded glass, and she opened the mullioned window to let in the fresh, crisp breeze. She pulled Cami from the bed, and they stood together looking out the window on the courtyard below.

It was busy, as usual, for this time of year. Late winter in the Shire, not much to do in the way of farming, or gardening, or the raising of any sort of livestock, and so the locals often found their feet bound for the Green Dragon to share a story and a pipeful, and stand a drink or two for friends.

‘We are at the Inn in Bywater. The very same that I am sure you remember from before we ever met.’ Pio told Cami how she had come north and west, leaving Mithadan to deal with the refitting of the Lonely Star. ‘With his blessing, of course.’ she added, as Cami arched her eyebrows. ‘No, I have not run off from him again!’ Cami’s eyes had lit with pleasure at the mention of Mithadan.

‘And Bird?’ she asked. ‘Is she here too?’ Pio explained how Bird had gone traveling, soon after their return to Minas Anor. She was searching for any clues to the background of her own race, and Pio was assisting her as she could with research in the library in the city, or picking up any information in the Shire which Cami might have left for them during her stay here.

Cami sighed as she looked out the window. ‘So I really am here. This is not a dream.’ ‘As real as any piece of time is.’ rejoined Pio, thinking of the layers of time they had traveled on the Star. ‘Shall I pinch you again, and make sure of it?’

Pio smiled as Cami eased away from her in mock fear. One of the babys thumped hard with its foot against her ribs, and she let out a little oof! of surprise. Cami looked at her in concern. Pio drew her close and placed her hand firmly against her belly. The baby kicked hard at Cami’s hand, and the Hobbit smiled in delight.

‘There, Cami, is that real enough for you?’ asked Pio. ‘The twins will be here in six months. And with the grace of the Valar, their Auntie Cami will be here to hold them. I care not how you came here. But only that you are here, and that I may have my friend at my side for what little time is gifted us.’

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

piosenniel

01-25-2003, 05:58 AM

Ringarë, Year 11 of the Fourth Age

Mithadan’s Post

A tall man wearing the dusty livery of the Guard of the White Tower of Gondor enters the Inn. His boots are worn and his face grimy from long riding. Seizing a rag from the bar, he mops his brow, then collapses into a chair at an empty table.

It had been a long ride to this northern territory, and he had just spent several unpleasant hours detained by the Shiriff until his writ of safe passage from King Elessar had been debated and scrutinized and debated again to the satisfaction of the local authorities.

"An ale, please," he asks of a server. "And if you have such a thing, a glass of cordial made from the plant known in the Common Tongue as agave." The barmaid looked blankly at the Man who sighed in disappointment.

When the ale arrived, he drained it in a single long draught. He ordered a second, then looked about. A number of the patrons were staring at him and his uniform.

Painfully aware that he still wore the dust of the road as well as his clothes, he swept at his tunic with an open hand to little avail.

A bold young Hobbit approached him. "I am Elanor," she said. "What brings a Man of Gondor so far to the North?"

The Man smiled. "Well met, Elanor," he replied. "I am Hithmir, and I am here on an errand. I am one of the King's messengers and a bear a letter for one who is said to be currently in The Shire..."

Pio’s Post

'A Man!' she thought to herself, noting the new customer who had just come in. 'And from Gondor!' She called the server to her.

'What did he order? He looked disappointed at the ale.' The server explained he wanted some strange drink that she couldn't find behind the bar. Pio's brow furrowed at the mention of the name, then her eyes lit up, remembering the dusty, faceted bottle with the silvery, white liquid she had found in the cellar.

A small while later, she approached the Guard's table where Elanor sat speaking with him, bearing a small glass, the dusted bottle, and a dish of sour green fruits, cut in wedges.

'I am Piosenniel,' she said, introducing herself. 'Or Pio, if you prefer, the Inkeeper here. Welcome to the Green Dragon.' she placed the glass and bottle on the table before him. 'The drink you ordered, I believe. We don't get much call for the Southron spirits.' She put the dish of green wedges down, along with a small dish of finely ground salt. 'I did not know if you would want these.' She poured him a small glass of the silvery liquid. 'I have seen it drunk many different ways.'

'Now tell me,' she said, watching him swallow the drink at a single gulp, 'what brings you to the Shire?'

She poured him another drink, and waited.

Mithadan’s Post

Hithmir blinked in surprise and nearly dropped his glass. "Piosenniel?" he asked. "Did you say Piosenniel?"

"That is my name," said the Elf with a curious smile.

"Why then, it is you I seek!" he cried. He stood, opened his satchel and began rummaging through it. "Now, where is it?" he muttered. "Ah, here. Two parcels for the Lady Piosenniel. Now, please sign here..."

Piosenniel went to the bar and found a quill and an inkwell. Returning to the Man's table, she signed a piece of paper with a flourish. "And here you are," said Hithmir.

He handed over a sealed envelope and a small package which jingled promisingly. "Now, I could use a room for the night," he continued. "Tomorrow, I will be heading south, back to Gondor." He grimaced, thinking of the Shiriff, once again, and recalled that he had been ordered out of the Shire as soon as his business was completed.

Pio’s Post

Her hand shook as she took the letter with the familiar handwriting on it. ‘Please let it be good news from the South.’ she murmured. Pio tucked the letter in her belt, and placed the packet in her breeches pocket.

She asked Elanor to freshen a room for their new guest, asking if she might have the girl take his bags up to the room. ‘He looks fit enough to carry his own bags.’ thought Elanor to herself, but smiled and curtsied, saying nothing.

Pouring one last drink for Hithmir, and wishing him a good stay in the Shire, Pio returned to her seat by the fire. Cami came near, wanting to know, in her ever curious Hobbit way, what Pio had received. ‘Let me read it first.’ said the Elf, and then I will share it with you.’

She shooed the Hobbit off with a smile and a wave of her hand, then took the packet and letter, laying them side by side on the table. Which one to open first, she wondered, running her fingers lightly over each. She chose the packet, and opened it with the small knife from her boot top. Ten gold coins poured out, in to a glittering heap on the table top. ‘Ah! He must have sold the knife.’ She fingered the face of one of the coins, picking out the gull winged helmet that graced the upturned side. ‘A pity he could not have kept it, to pass down to his son. A good businessman, he is, though. And I am sure that if I thought about it clearly I would understand the need for profit which drives the world of Men.’

A few moments lost in thought, and then she opened the letter, running the sharp blade of the knife carefully along the letter’s edge. A single, white piece of parchment, crisply folded, fell to the table as she shook the envelope. Opening it, she read:

~~~~~~~~~~~

Beloved:

I hope this letter finds you well. You are always in my thoughts.

The refit of The Lonely Star proceeds apace, though it may be perhaps three months before it is finished. The barnacles alone took two weeks to remove.

I have sold Elros' dagger to King Elessar. Together with the proceeds of sale from the three ships some time ago (you recall I think) and less the expense of repairs to the Star, I have secured some 600 gold pieces for the partnership. This should keep Bird going for I time, I think.

I am advancing you some of the profits for your ease. But tell me, when will you return to the warmth of Gondor? Surely you do not intend to give birth to the twins so far from me? Of course, if you wish I will join you in the frozen north. You can, of course contact me without writing.

I await your reply and look forward to seeing you soon, for I miss you sorely.

With all my love,

Mithadan
~~~~~~~~~~

A few tears edged her lashes, as she folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.
Elanor had come to tell her the guest and his bags had gone up stairs. ‘Some sad news, Ms. Pio?’ she asked concerned. Pio turned her face to the girl, smiling, and wiped away the threatened tears.

‘No, not sad at all, Elanor.' Pio's hand rested protectively over the soft swell of her belly. 'I am just missing someone . . . very much, at this moment.’

Pio asked Elanor to see to the guests for the afternoon and retired to her room. She sat at her desk, pushing the clutter of books and maps to one side. The crumbs from some forgotten meal were swept up into her hand and deposited into a nearby planter.

Taking a clean sheet of vellum from the stack on the shelf above the desk, she smoothed it out in front of her, dipped a sharpened quill in the waiting inkwell and penned a reply to Mithadan.

Once done, she blotted the excess ink from the paper and folded it carefully in thirds. She tucked it into an envelope, securing the flap with sealing wax and pressed the pattern of her knife pommel into it. On it she wrote:

Mithadan
Captain of The Lonely Star
Harlond, Minas Anor

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

‘Hithmir!’ she called as she knocked on his door. He opened it wide, thinking it might be the wine he’d asked Elanor to bring. Surprise shone on his face, replaced quickly by a smile as Pio explained she had need of him. He nodded his head at her. Yes, he would leave tomorrow early and take her letter to Gondor with him. She thanked him as she handed him the letter and one gold coin.

Calling for Elanor when she reached the first floor, Pio sent her upstairs with a bottle of Dorwinion wine. ‘And tell him it is with my compliments, if you will.’

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

Child's post:

A number of months had passed since Cami's arrival in the Shire. The hobbit was surprised at how quickly and painlessly she had settled into the routine of the Green Dragon Inn. She still had no clear sense of why she was here, or what would ultimately be expected of her. Yet she had finally made her peace with the situation. She was intensely happy to find herself again in Piosenniel's company, even if it might last for no more than a brief interval.

But there was another reason for her contentedness that went beyond this. Cami was quite sure that she had not come here through any merit or action of her own. This suggested that someone else had meant for her to come. Basically, that left just two choices. Cami simply could not conceive that any servant of the Shadow could have led her to such a peaceful refuge, so she supposed her being here must be alright, and that something good might come out of it.

So month after month, she'd made beds, washed dishes, scrubbed floors, and learned to serve drinks, voicing few complaints about her work or questioning why she was here. Piosenniel kept her quite busy at the Inn so there was little time for personal reflection. Even with their heavy chores, she and Pio had found time to talk and laugh and joke together.

The work here was also much easier than her responsibilties in Greenwood had been. There, she was always worrying about the safety and security of the hobbit community as a whole, and wondering what was going to happen in the future. Here, she did her job to the best of her ability and left the rest to take care of itself. After a few months of this, she'd even come to think that, back in Greenwood, if she ever got back to Greenwood, it would be good to carry home a little piece of that trust, and not worry so much about how things might turn out in the future.

Sometimes, though, Cami did slip out and go on long walks through the countryside, wistfully searching for places that she'd known from many years ago when she was a child growing up in Hobbiton. Yet, she made it a point to stay clear of Bag-end, or any member of the Gamgee clan, or even any of the other hobbits she'd known from before. Something inside her head warned her that the time for this had not yet come. Moreover, she'd been away from Hobbiton so many years that, when one or two childhood friends had finally spied her working in the Inn, they hadn't even recognized her. Cami almost felt as if she'd become a ghost.

Yet, as accepting as she was of her own presence here, she was also surprised at how often her mind slipped back to Greenwood, and to the little burrow where Rose and the boys were. Cami wasn't worried about their well-being. She was certain someone was looking over them. But she found herself missing them much more than she'd ever expected, not only Rose, but also Gamba and the little ones.

The last time she'd seen Gamba, Cami had bitterly complained how headstrong the lad could be. But now, here in the Inn, she dreamt they were again together as a family. She imagined herself sitting near the hearth in her small burrow, with the long shadows of evening creeping up around them, while she recited tales of Elves and dragons to Rose and the boys. Just as she'd finished, Gamba would come over and kiss her gently on the head. Then, the soft rays of the sun would filter through the great glass window in her bedchamber, and Cami would awaken in the Shire, wondering about those she'd left behind.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

01-25-2003, 05:59 AM

Súlimë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

Mithadan’s Post

Far away to the south, a rider entered the city of Minas Tirith bearing a message from the north. After making inquiries, he determined that the addressee was at Harlond working at the docks. The rider, weary from his long journey, entered an inn and rested for a night before moving on.

The morning found him prowling the docks seeking to deliver the message. He came across a tall man with grey eyes and raven hair shot through with strands of silver. The man was wearing a fine cloak of blue embroidered about the collar with gold. He was sitting on a piling while reviewing a scroll and occasionally looking up at a ship which rested in drydock with workers swarming over its wooden hull and decks.

The rider urged his horse forward, then dismounted, twitching aside his black cloak to reveal the livery of the White Tower. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "But might you be Mithadan, captain of the Lonely Star?"

The man looked up at the rider, squinting slightly in the morning sun. "Aye," he responded. "That I am. And you are?"

"I am Hithmir, an errand-rider of Gondor," the rider replied. "I am recently come from a journey to the north which I undertook at the behest of the King. I have a letter for you from the distant land of The Shire."

Mithadan rose and stepped forward eagerly. "A letter?," he asked excitedly.

"Aye," answered Hithmir. "From a fair Elven maiden that I met there." Hithmir rummaged about in his pouch and withdrew a sealed packet which he handed to Mithadan, who hurriedly passed the rider a handful of silver coins before stepping away to open the missive. He smiled and shook his head as he read:

~~~~~~~~~~~

My Bearer of Light before the Sun and Moon –

Beloved, I know you would never think of yourself in this way. Even now I can see you smiling and shaking your head ‘no’. But each night I look out my window to the western horizon, where the bright evening star hangs just above the Emyn Beraid, and I hold you in my thoughts for a few, too brief, moments. It is my hope, that when the season turns, I will not look toward the east, above the Hithaeglir, to find the morning star heralding the sun. But that it will be your own dear face which wakes me with its light and laughter.

I had not intended to stay this long away from you. But events have conspired to make it so. The Inn is busier than I expected, and I have found no one as yet to take over the responsibilities left to me by the former Innkeeper. As is my wont, I have run myself ragged seeing to details. But do not worry about me. Cami is here, and she sees that I take care of myself, as best she can.

It was good news that we were able to turn a tidy profit for the partnership. Bird and I had made some plans before we finished our last voyage, and she will now be able to finance her part. It is our hope that in time we can track down the history of her race. As you know, it was in fact, the quest for that knowledge that first brought me to the Shire.

As to the Lonely Star, my feet long to feel her deck beneath them, and my hands to grip the wheel. What I would give to have these lively babies, pummeling my ribs as I write these words, rocked to sleep by the glassy waves!

Your son and daughter grow stronger every day. They miss their atar, as do I. Their fëas are vibrant, reaching out with great energy to take in the world around them. Once they are born I fear their ammë will be hard put to keep up with them! How I wish you were here to watch them in this season of their growth.

I wish that I could return to the warmth of Gondor and to your arms. But I find I cannot, until this task of mine is done. I miss you sorely, also, and would have you by my side, for even just a brief space of time.

Will you come to me, Mithadan?

I await your answer.

~ Your Piosenniel
~~~~~~~~~~

Mithadan frowned for a moment. "Cami?" he muttered. "Is she delusional from overwork and pregnancy?" Then he smiled again and looked back to the ship. It would be a month and more before the work on it would be completed. He could not wait even if the seas could carry him to the north quickly enough. He would need a horse... and clothing for cold weather.

Hithmir watched as Mithadan read the letter. When he lowered it, the errand-rider asked, "Need you send a reply? I can arrange for a rider to carry it."

"Thank you," replied Mithadan. "But I shall carry my own message..."

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

01-25-2003, 05:59 AM

Tuilérë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

The moon shone bright and full this night. The Inn was quiet, the guests asleep, lost in dreams of the promised Spring. It was Tuilérë, the vernal equinox, when Anar and Isil shared the passage of the day’s time as equals.

Pio was awake, her cloak wrapped about her to ward off the still chill air of early Spring. She walked the well trod path along The Water, watching the moon’s reflection as it followed her along the course of the river. At the Bywater Pool, she paused, listening to the current as it rushed over rocks and sand making music in the quiet night. It hushed into silence as it entered the widened banks of the pool, then picked up the refrain again as it flowed out through the narrowed channel of the river on the other side, hurrying on its way to the Brandywine. She came here as often as time would allow. It was soothing to her. The music of the water as it flowed over the stone recalled to her the fountains of her youth in Gondolin.

This night, as she sat listening, another sound came to her - the passage of small, soft feet padding through the undergrowth beneath the trees that ringed the Pool. They paused and she sensed the scrutiny of a keen and curious mind focused on her.

‘Come!’ she called softly. ‘I will do you no harm.’ A dark, musky scent of overwhelming wildness assailed her nose, and she turned her head slowly to watch as a small red fox, sporting a bright pink patch of spiky hair on the top of his head and carrying a small leather pouch slung across his shoulder, came from the shadows of the trees, pausing to regard her. The dark pools of its eyes held her gaze as it approached, its gait light and graceful. Nearing her, he paused and doffed his pouch, rummaging around in it with his nose. He pulled out a much crumpled and travel stained letter. This he took in his mouth and dropped it near her outstretched hand. He retreated a few steps, and sat nearby, waiting expectantly. She picked the envelope up and recognized the faded script. It was addressed:

The Lady Piosenniel
Green Dragon, Bywater, The Shire.

Bird! Pio laughed, a light, silvery sound, and inclined her head to the fox. ‘I thank you, Ruscomir. I am in your debt. You have brought news from a dear friend.’ The fox inclined his head toward her, and faded silently beneath the trees once more.

Pio took the letter from its envelope, reading it carefully by the moon’s light.

********

21 Ringarë,Year 11
"The Water Lily", New Osgiliath, Emyn Arnen

Dearest Piosennial,

Please don’t let the name of the town where I am at mislead you. "New Osgiliath" is nothing more than an inn, (Though a very nice inn) here on the shores of Anduin in North Ithilien. The name changes daily, and the settlers and watermen who pass through here argue constantly as to what the name of this new town should be, or even if a new town will be the end result.

North Ithilien is truly a lovely land, and our King never did a better day’s work than when he bestowed the stewardship of this fiefdom on our good Prince Faramir. Though the majority of the labor is still devoted to the restoration of Minas Anor, hardy bands of people of all races have been striking out to settle land and make their fortunes here. The woodland kin of Lord Legolas have arrived, and while they seem disinclined to actually build permanent dwellings (at least that we with merely human eyes can see), their touch on the land has not gone unnoticed, and the woodlands and fields bloom and thrive.

I even actually got to see Legolas and Gimli! They did stop by to sample the ale here at the "Lily". I can’t say that the Elf Prince was much impressed with the accommodations, but the son of Gloin would not bypass a chance to sample the best - in fact the only - ale in the South Kingdom.

You may be asking yourself why, if I am so close to the city, I have not gone farther and sought out Mithadan. I very much intended to do this, but I ran into some misadventure on the road from Dol Amroth, and have stopped here to lick my wounds and recover before moving on. Please don’t worry, I am truly on the mend and will be fit to travel in another week or so. I had intended to inform Mith of my whereabouts, but found when I arrived here that he had taken the "Star" on a trading expedition and was not in the city. And the innkeeper informs me that you are holing up in the Shire! How in Middle-earth did you wind up there? So I have decided that I will wait until I can travel again, and will surprise your errant husband with my unannounced presence when he returns to the city.

Did you get the letter that I sent you before I left Dol Amroth? I hope you have given much thought to the information I discovered in Harad. The second map and drawings are still safe, of course, though I cannot make heads or tails out of what it all means. I hope you have given much thought to the words spoken by the blind shepherd. I truly think this could be an important lead to finding my kin!

Well, the innkeeper’s wife is scolding me. Seems to think the act of letter writing is far too wearying for someone in such a delicate state as I, and she orders me back to bed.

I have been having the oddest dreams of Cami. Seeing her with Bilbo and Maura, of all things. How I miss our little friend. I think of her often, at the oddest times.

Well, six more months, and the twins will be here. I hope you will not force me to travel clear to the Shire in order to see them. Please write to me care of the Dock Master at Dol Amroth to let me know where you will be. In the meantime, after a quick trip to visit with dear Mithadan, I will be returning again to the warm lands of Far Harad. The people there are a suspicious lot, and always seem to speak in riddles, but I really feel that I am getting closer to discovering the fate of the skinchangers.

And now to bed! And now to bed!

With great affection,

Birdie

P.S. - I hope this fox is reliable. At least his services came cheap.
P.P.S. - Did I tell you I rode on an Oliphaunt?!

*******

‘There is no time to write a return message.’ she thought to herself. ‘It has taken three months for this one to get to me. By the time she receives my reply, the twins will already have been born.’ Pio picked up a small stone and lobbed it into the Pool. The ripples spread out in widening circles. She sighed and shook her head. ‘I know she hates this. She says she has no talent for it. But that simply is not true.’

Pio closed her eyes lightly and let her mind quest southward, seeking her companion.

Auntie Bird! Shire. Three months. The twins. Loendë, Midsummer’s day. Come!

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-03-2003, 02:31 PM

As Cami watched her friend's figure blossom with the impending birth of twins, she found her own feelings caught up in a spiral of thankfulness. This must surely be why she'd been allowed to come back and spend this time with Piosenniel. Perhaps because she herself would never be graced with the birth of a child, she'd been given a rare chance to act as a loving Aunt. Later, when she'd heard that Mithadan, and even Bird, might be arriving shortly, her joy had increased even more.

Instead of hiking off on her own across the fields and roads of the Shire, she found herself spending more and more time preparing for the babies' arrival. In the late evening, after her chores were done, she'd sit with her handiwork in front of the fire, knitting booties and stitching samplers so the little ones would remember their Auntie Cami even after she'd gone far away. She even dragged out the quilt from the Star which Pio had tucked into a chest, and began adding blocks to tell what had happened to the ship and its passengers after they'd sailed from Numenor.

Cami was always full of good advice for Piosenniel on what she could eat and drink, or those activities which were good for her, and those from which she should refrain. The Elf seemed to take all this in a good natured manner, though Cami suspected that, when she was actually on her own, she did whatever pleased her, paying no attention to the hobbit's wise words!

Still, Pio couldn't help but be impressed with Cami's evident wealth of knowledge on small babies and their ways. The hobbit was a font of information on what babies ate and wore, how to feed them, the most sturdy and reliable toys, and time-honored tricks for enticing collicky little ones back to sleep.

One day, after a particularly long and intricate discourse on Cami's part, Piosenniel had looked over at her friend and laughed, "Cami, from all you know about infants, and how you love to go on about them, I'd swear you were the mother of ten!"

Cami shook her head, and looked a bit wistful, "Oh, no, Pio. It's just that I grew up in the Shire, and everyone discusses the best ways to raise children. It's one of our most popular topics of conversation. You see, almost all hobbit girls choose to marry and have little ones of their own, often in considerable numbers. An Elf may feel herself blessed to have one son or daughter, but, from the time they're young, hobbits dream of a whole burrowful of children. Even the lads do, although most of them won't admit it, until they come of age and marry." Then, Cami cheerfully took off on another tangent, offering to show her friend the most successful methods for swaddling a tiny infant.

Pio yawned, and promised to listen more attentively tomorrow, saying goodnight and retiring quickly to her own chamber. Cami stayed in the common room for a few minutes, poking about in the hearth with a rod, and watching the fire burn itself out in a medley of silver ashes. She didn't quite know how it happened, but she never made it to her bedroom that night. Instead, she felt herself nod once or twice, her body sliding down into the chair, her head falling gently to her chest as she slipped away in dreams.

[ February 03, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-03-2003, 02:32 PM

As the first morning songbirds trilled their notes over the Shire, Cami awoke with a start, pulled herself up from the wooden chair where she'd slept last night, and ran to find Piosenniel. Pio was already hard at work in the kitchens, giving orders to the staff, and keeping a watchful eye on the kettles, pots, and frying pans to make sure that nothing burned. The hobbits who worked in the Inn were a bit less afraid of her now. Cami had made certain to reassure them that the Elf was really not a bad sort, as long as they honestly did their jobs and were truthful in their comments to her.

But, this morning, Cami's mind was not on the staff or the bedchambers that needed dusting or even the meals being prepared and served to their guests. Indeed, her mind was a thousand miles away from the Green Dragon Inn, as she reflected on a place where she'd never been, but had heard a good deal about, in fact considerably more than most other hobbits.

"Pio, Pio," Cami tugged insistently on the Elf's tunic, trying to get her attention. "It's important. I really need to talk to you now. I figured out why I'm here."

"That's nice, Cami. We'll talk about it later. Now, can you take these out to the group of young hobbit lads seated near the bar?" Piosenniel thrust out a serving tray towards her friend with a vast assortment of breakfast platters stacked up in three untidy piles.

Cami clutched desperately at the overloaded tray, with its plates unsteadily perched and wobbling, trying to keep them all in line. Then she stuck her head out from the side of the load, and bellowed, "No, this is important. Really important."

The Elf sighed and handed the tray over to Elanor, pushing Cami before her into one of the side pantries. "Now, what is so important that it can't wait till after breakfast? Especially for a hobbit!"

"Pio, Bilbo and Frodo are doing what you did. They're coming back, back from the West, at least for a visit. That must be why I'm here. I'm finally going to get to see my teacher again."

Pio's eyes fixed hard on the small hobbit, but she said nothing for a good while. Then she asked her friend, "Cami, where did you learn this?"

Cami stopped a minute and thought. That was very hard to answer. To tell the truth, she wasn't totally sure. She'd woken up that morning, and the exciting news had been there, taken up from somewhere in sleep and now staring her in the face. The hobbit turned to her friend and sighed, "Please believe me. If you've ever set any trust on my word, you will listen to what I say and act on it. Tomorrow evening, the hobbits will arrive here at the Inn. We need to turn down the beds in our best rooms and invite friends over for a small dinner party. It would be very rude to welcome them in any other way."

"I do not know why they're coming, unless it's for Bilbo and I to see each other again. But someone else will be with them, someone I've never seen before."

"Who is this someone?" Pio gently probed.

Cami heard herself speak. "Perhaps you will know of him, for he is no common mortal. He wears a silver-white garment, and his eyes are as deep as a pool from a bottomless spring. And, wherever he walks, a curtain of grey mist arises about him, spun from silver dreams." Cami looked up startled, for she could not even say where these words were coming from.

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-03-2003, 02:33 PM

Pio's Post

‘The problem is, Cami, I do believe you.’

Pio rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment against the dim light of the pantry. Her face had gone pale, and she eased herself down onto the top of a large pickle barrel. When Cami, concerned at her appearance, asked if there were something wrong, she shook her head ‘no’.

‘Unless, of course,’ came the quiet voice of the Elf, ‘you consider the visit of one of the Fëanturi to be “something wrong”.’

She looked at Cami, and shook her head again, though this time the seriousness of her expression was relieved by a brief smile. ‘You and Mithadan have always been true dreamers, close to the hearts of the Valar. I thought I had done with that once we finished the task they had set for us on the Lonely Star. That there would be no more dreams and portents to trouble us. But now one of the Valar comes poking his nose into the affairs of those across the Sundered Sea, and here you are asking me to make up a bed for him as if he were some welcome guest.’

‘You know my opinion of them. They keep their own council; their ends are their own. They care but little for the Firstborn, except as they meet their needs, and less for those who came after.’ Her expression grew grave as she sorted through the many years of her life. ‘Trouble, of one sort or another, always follows them when they step beyond the concerns and boundaries of Aman. And in this world, shadow always follows light.’

She heard the Hobbit gasp as she spoke these words. And she recalled that Cami and Mithadan had always had a certain kind of faith when it came to the Valar and the West. Pio tempered her words, saying, ‘I think this may be different, though. Look what good has already come of it. You are here – my dear friend I thought never to see again; and soon you will be reunited with your dear teacher Bilbo, and with Frodo. These are good things, no?!’

Pio stood up and straightened her apron over her growing girth. ‘Let us finish with breakfast, and then we will see to getting rooms ready for the visitors. Three you say.’ She had just stepped to the door of the pantry, her mind already sorting through the details of the accommodations, when she felt a hesitant tug at her tunic. Cami stood there, a perplexed look on her face.

‘You never told me who that other visitor was, Pio. One of the Fëanturi, you said. But I don’t know them. Who will it be.’

Pio crouched down to be at eye level with the Hobbit, and took her hands in hers. ‘Do you remember when I was slain in Gondolin?’ Cami shook her head ‘yes’, the memory of those terrible times brought fresh to her mind. ‘My fëa was summoned at death to the Halls of Mandos on the western borders of Valinor. The keeper of those Halls is Námo, one of the Fëanturi, Masters of Spirits. He is also called the Doomsman of the Valar. There also, I met his sister, Nienna – a name I think you might already know, do you not? She dwells west of West, near the Door of Night, her windows looking out beyond the walls of the world. It is to her whom all those in Mandos cry. And to their spirits she gives strength and turns their sorrow into wisdom.’ Pio’s gaze moved beyond the face of the Hobbit before her, as if she saw these things once again.

Recalled from her reverie by the touch of Cami’s hand on her cheek, she continued on. ‘It is the last one of these siblings who will visit you. He is the other Fëanturi, and is called Irmo, the Master of Desire, the master of visions and dreams. His dwelling is Lórien, the Gardens of Dreams, and often he is known by that name.’

She stood up and led Cami back out to the kitchen. ‘I wonder why Irmo is to come with them. Though, of the three, he would be the most welcome.’ She smiled to herself, remembering the beauty and grace of his gardens. ‘They reminded me of Gondolin – the fountains in his gardens, I mean. They are lovely beyond words, and often the Valar come there to draw refreshment from them. And from Lórien, to find repose and the easing of the burdens of Arda.’

They hurried through their morning duties, then went to freshen the three best rooms. Pio left Cami to sort out the details of the dinner party. The Hobbit was in a very happy mood, and sailed through the day with a smile on her face.

Pio was inclined to a more reflective state of mind. And while she was exceedingly happy that her friend was to have a chance to see Bilbo once again, she was already planning how she could spend the least amount of time possible in the presence of the Vala.

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-03-2003, 02:35 PM

18 Lotessë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

Pio stood behind the counter of the bar making a list of the supplies they would need to carry them through the next week. Head bent over the paper before her, she ticked off each entry with her pen as she estimated what it would cost. Despite the outlay for the heavy traffic of guests, it had been a profitable fortnight for the Inn. They could well afford to lay in a few luxuries and extras for their expected guests.

She paused for a moment, smiling, and stared off into space, eyes unfocused. The song came unbidden to her lips, and she sang the words softly to herself.

“O fare you well, I must be gone
And leave you for a while,
But wherever I go, I will return,
If I go ten thousand mile, my dear,
If I go ten thousand mile . . .”

Mithadan was on his way to her, and her heart leapt at the thought of it.

It was about a two and a half month journey from Gondor to the Shire on horseback. Just enough time to get to the Shire before the twins were born. He had left the day he received her letter, riding hard to the north and west. And he did not tarry as he passed through the country side along the Great West Road, only stopping for food and sleep and a change of horse as was needed.

Her thoughts were always on him now. She had watched as he rode the last stretch from Edoras to the Fords of Isen. She sensed his delight as her mind brushed his. Now he was just a few days from Tharbad, and then the Greenway would bring him north to her.
The Inn was busy today, humming with a multitude of conversations. Pio focused on the paper she had placed before her, and blocked out the noises and voices that surrounded her. The list of supplies was done. Now she placed a fresh sheet of paper before her to write out a more personal list.

The quill’s tip had become dull from the long listing of supplies. She took the sharp little knife from her right boot top and honed it to an acceptable point. Dipping it quickly in the inkwell, she tapped off the excess ink and began to write.

Top of the new list was the word Midwife. Now who did she know who could recommend one to her? Pio rubbed the feathered end of the quill against her cheek. She grinned as the ideal source for information came to her. Amaranthas! Tomorrow she would ride to see her and together they would sort this problem out. She wrote the venerable Hobbit’s name next to the word, and went on to number two.

Inkeeper. Both she and Cami would be unavailable starting mid-Nárië. She wished to keep her friend close to her as the time for the birth drew near.

Summers, as she understood from the regulars to the Green Dragon, were quite busy times of the year. Besides the locals, looking for a refreshing drink on a hot summer’s evening, there were many thirsty travelers on all sorts of business along the roadways at this time of year. They would all be wanting food, drink, and lodging as they passed through Bywater on their ways east or west, and the Green Dragon would be their place for it.

‘I wonder if one of the long time servers here would mind taking on the position.’ Her brow furrowed as she ran through the list. With a sure hand she wrote several names down, of people who seemed capable of doing the job well. They were all of the friendly sort, even handed in their approach to others, and seemed quite capable of handling themselves in a sticky situation. One of them, especially, seemed to fit the bill, and she drew a firm line under the name - Primrose Bolger.

Pio sat back in her chair, looking at the flames of the small fire. Her mind wandered from present matters, questing south to see where Mithadan might be. She watched the countryside as it sped past him, heard the hoof beats of the horse as it flew north, felt the breezes cool him as they rushed past his cheeks and brow.

Where are you now? she asked, feeling his mind turn to her. We miss you greatly. She chuckled, thinking how long it had been since he had last seen her. I fear you will not recognize me when you see me. Your son and daughter grow apace, and I sail slowly through the hours like some great merchant ship laden with treasures. Were you to place me side by side with the Star, I think I might overshadow her! She is a trim vessel, and I am not these days. She placed an image in her mind of a great lumbering vessel coming into port. One of the ships of Númenor that had sailed the seas in the early days to Vinyalondë and the Grey Havens. She laughed as he perceived it.

Someone was calling to her. Needing something seen to. She bade farewell to Mithadan, a faint kiss brushing his brow. Ride hard, beloved. she called to him. I would see you soon.

She rose from her seat to see to a guest. The babies sent their little thoughts to her as she turned from thinking on Mithadan. A smile played about her lips, and she placed her hand lovingly on the swell of her belly. Soon, sweetings, soon. Your atar is coming. They pushed against her hand, gently, in response.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-03-2003, 02:37 PM

Mithadan’s Post

In the wilds of Enedwaith, a lone horseman rode along the remains of the Old South Road. One more day's riding, perhaps two, and he would reach Tharbad and the crossing of Greyflood, at which point his journey would be more than two thirds over.

He rode over a plain covered with tall grasses and low shrubs at a fair clip. Even now, after the King had returned, there were yet rumours of bandits in these lands and not far to the east lay Dunland, whose people had no great love of Gondor despite the peace treaty that had been signed some years ago.

He felt a tickle in his mind which resolved itself into a familiar touch. "Piosenniel," he murmured under his breath, and he reined his horse in to a slow trot. Then he concentrated and strained to hear the not-voice from miles away.

Where are you now? We miss you greatly. I fear you will not recognize me when you see me. Your son and daughter grow apace, and I sail slowly through the hours like some great merchant ship laden with treasures. Were you to place me side by side with the Star, I think I might overshadow her! She is a trim vessel, and I am not these days. She placed an image in his mind of a great lumbering vessel coming into port. Then he felt a faint kiss brushing his brow. Ride hard, beloved. I would see you soon.

He laughed at the image of the great ship and smiled at the faint kiss. He attempted to respond but found that he could not concentrate well enough on horseback. He almost stopped there, on the faint track which would soon become a roadway leading north and west. But he took note of the smoke of a cooking fire not far off to his left and rode a few hours more before finding a forest where he might spend the evening undetected. After quickly making camp, he sat with his back to an oak tree and cleared his mind.

Dearest, I come as quickly as I may. Yet though I do not wish to, at least my steed must rest from time to time. Tharbad is not far off. From there it is perhaps ten days to the Shire, or so I am told for I have never visited that land. Soon, beloved, soon. Then you may regale me with tales of the kicks which my children have delivered at inopportune times and your imaginings of Cami. Soon.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-06-2003, 04:01 AM

The bedclothes heaved like the waves on a stormy sea, as she turned from side to side trying to get comfortable. It was a fair night out, and she had left the windows to her room open, to let in the breezes. Despite the cool night air, despite the fragrant cup of chamomile tea Cami had made for her, Pio could not sleep.

Twelve brief days and Mithadan would be at her side. She reached out with her mind to him, felt him sleeping there in Enedwaith, dreaming. She nudged his thoughts, making them pleasant ones, and kissing his brow, withdrew. He would be here by the end of Lótessë, or the beginning days of Nárië at the latest. That would give them a month before the twins were born. She smiled at the thought of it.

Pio got up from her bed and drew on a light green gown that hung to mid-calf. She had taken to wearing such dress since the time she had tried on her largest pair of breeches and could not fasten them about her. Her hair was long now, and she brushed it as smooth as the tenacious curls in it would allow, letting it flow down her back to her waist – a cascade of raven black waves. She slipped her feet into a pair of soft leather shoes, and went quietly out the kitchen door to the stable.

The moon was a silver sliver on the western rim of the Tower Hills. The morning star hung just above the distant Misty Mountains, heralding the coming of the sun. It was that hushed hour before the birds awoke to greet the day. Quiet, everywhere.

The horse nickered softly as Pio stepped into the darkened barn, eager to be out in the open. Rochfalmar, she was called, for her coat shimmered like a cresting wave shot with the sun’s light while the deep greys of the sea rolled beneath it.

Leading ‘Falmar to the yard, near the fenced in exercise ring for the other horses, she clambered up to the top rail, feeling quite ungainly in her balance. ‘Steady on, girl!’ she admonished the horse as well as herself. ‘Falmar drew near, and let the Elf make her ungraceful mount.

‘This may well be the last time I ride you. If I get any larger it will take a siege ladder to get me astride you again!’ ‘Falmar whickered softly at this comment, as if chuckling.

Pio tapped her heels against ‘Falmar’s sides, and led the way out of the inn’s yard. The reins were light in her hands, as she headed for the eastward path along the Water. She was bound for the home of a good friend she had made in the shire, Amaranthas Bolger. She lived just a few miles up the road that heads north from the Water to Oatbarton. Her intent was to ask the venerable Hobbit who could best serve her as a midwife.

Less than a mile from the inn, and they had left the small congestion of Bywater and were well into the low rolling hills of the East Farthing countryside. They made their way through the sea of high grasses. The wind rippled through the fields, the heads of the grasses undulating with it, like waves on a bright green sea.

‘Falmar stopped, her head held high, and shook her neck and head vigorously. Her grey mane flew wildly in the wind. Pio could feel the tension of the great horse’s muscles coiled beneath her. She wanted to run through the grass, cleaving it like a great ship through the cresting waves. Eat up the miles and leave them far behind her.

The Elf inched forward on the withers and bent down to whisper to the horse. Her hands wound tightly in ‘Falmar’s mane, and she gave a wide smile as the horse nodded its head vigorously.‘The wind is with us, 'Falmar. Let us run with it.’

She leaned as close to the horse as her babied girth would allow. Her mind reached out to catch the feeling of abandon as ‘Falmar leapt to meet the rolling green waves. They flew, and the wind of their passing was like a great sigh through the fields. The tall grasses parted for a brief moment, bowing down before them; then closed behind, as if undisturbed, once again . . .

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-06-2003, 05:20 AM

19 Lotessë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

The horse and rider went slowly down the other side of the hill once they had raced to the crest of it. It was not a great distance to Amaranthas' house from here, and Pio wished the sun to be up just a little more before she knocked on her door.

Once they had reached the house, Pio clambered off, leaving her mount to nibble the grass in the greensward. A few steps along a clean swept stone walkway brought her to a freshly painted green door. To each side of the entrance were stone planters with riots of red, yellow, and orange blooms spilling over the sides. Pio tapped twice on the door, then stepped back to await its opening.

‘WHAT WOOLY PATED HOBBIT IS DISTURBING MY MORNING TEA?! TOLMAN BYWATER, IF THAT’S YOU AGAIN PLAYING TRICKS ON AN OLD LADY, I’LL HAVE YOUR HIDE FOR IT!’

The door cracked open the barest of inches. One baleful, bright black eye peered out at her. Pio stepped up close to the door. ‘It is Piosenniel, my dear Amaranthas. I have come to ask your advice on something.’

The door swung open slowly, and the tiny Hobbit came forward, leaning on her silver handled hawthorn stick. She had been no more than three feet tall in her prime, and now age had bent her spine, making her even smaller. Her face was as wrinkled as a wizened winter’s apple with cheeks stained red, and her eyes were still keen and took in all. Dressed in her usual black, widow’s weeds with a white starched cap securely covering her thinning grey curls, she looked the Elf up and down taking her measure.

‘Those babies are getting bigger by the minute, Miz Pio!’ She looked over to where ‘Falmar was grazing on the greensward. ‘Tell me you didn’t ride the horse here this morning! Are you trying to bring them out early, you little fool.’

The Elf stifled a giggle at this comment. Who was this tiny Hobbit to call her a little fool! She heard the loud crack as Amaranthas tapped her cane hard on the stone porch. ‘No need to be laughing at an old lady, Missy! You need to take better care of yourself if you intend to be a mother.’

Pio blanched at this comment. How many times had she heard it already from Cami! She stammered out an apology, trying to look contrite. An expression not familiar to the features of her face.

Amaranthas laughed at her guest’s discomfiture, a dry dusty sound that wheezed out of her like a long, sustained note from an old squeeze box, the kind the tinker would play as he walked along to draw his customers’ attention. Pio stepped forth, a look of concern on her face, as the laugh seemed to roll out with no intake of breath to replenish it.

The laughed dissolved into a cough, and Amaranthas waved the Elf back, nodding to her that she was alright. ‘Come in! Come in.’ wheezed the old Hobbit, pointing the way to the parlour. Pio stepped in and went to the cozy little room, having visited the house previously, while Amaranthas shut the door securely.

‘That’s a good girl, to fix us some more tea. Your mother did a good job of raising you!’ Amaranthas had come to the table and sat herself down as Pio busied herself brewing a fresh pot of tea, then rooted through the cupboards for one more cup. Cup in hand, she nosed through several more cupboards before asking, ‘Now where is that seedcake you told me you always bake midweek? I am famished!’ Amaranthas chuckled and pointed out the bread drawer to the left of the stone sink with her hawthorn cane.

Pio busied herself slicing the cake into thin slices, and piled them high on a small, flowered plate. Plate in one hand and a pot of gooseberry jam in the other, Pio plunked herself down at the table, and poured the steaming tea for the two of them. She passed Amaranthas the seedcake and jam, and the pot of honey to sweeten the tea. Piling a generous spoonful of jam on the slice of cake in her own hand, she raised it to her mouth, and bit down in delight.

They passed a fair time in pleasant conversation, and Amaranthas filled her in on all the news of all the neighbors round her. Pio’s head swam with the jumble of facts and imaginings she now knew about people she did not know. She was just about to fill her in on the despicable Bywater family when Pio redirected her commentary with a question.

‘Amaranthas,’ she said, offering her the plate of sliced cake, ‘I need to ask you for a favor.’ The Hobbit was now all ears. ‘Can you direct me to someone you would trust as a midwife?’ She put her hand on her belly for emphasis. ‘The twins will be born on Loënde, Mid Year’s Day, just a little over a month away. I need to find someone who can be there with me.’

The venerable Hobbit looked at her questioningly. ‘I don’t know much about Elves, but I’ve been through my share of Hobbit births. How do you know they will be born that day exactly? Aren’t these your first? They could come at any time. And twins! That could prove difficult.’ She sat thinking on poor Marigold Brandybuck who lost one of the twins she had carried and never did get over the loss.

‘It will be Loënde, because the twins and I have agreed on it.’ Amaranthas arched her eyebrows at this information, and gave a distinct ‘Hmmph!’ ‘And as to difficulty in the birth itself, Elven women are different in this respect, we carry our children differently and their births are fairly effortless. I expect some discomfort but nothing as I have heard told of Men’s births.’

‘Is that so?’ said the Hobbit, her black eyes glittering with barely concealed mirth. ‘Discomfort! Now that is an interesting word, indeed. Sort of pretties things up, doesn’t it?’ She smiled at Pio and winked.

Pio kept an even expression on her face and looked back at her. ‘More tea?’ she said, pouring herself another cupful. It was true her store of knowledge on this subject was extremely limited, having avoided involvement in helping with any births throughout her long years. Still, she assumed she would get through it much as she had any event in her life. She would simply take charge and see it done the way she intended.

As if she had read the Elf’s thoughts, Amaranthas shook her head, kindly holding her tongue on the subject. Instead she gave careful consideration to Pio’s request, and after a few moments produced a name she thought would fit the bill.

‘Rose Cotton Gamgee.’ she said with some finality. ‘That’s who it will be. I’ll speak to her myself this afternoon.’

Two more hours passed pleasantly in small talk. Pio regaled the Hobbit with tales of Cami’s mothering of her, and her industrious knitting projects for the babies. ‘It settles my mind a little knowing you have someone with a good head on her shoulders to keep you in line, Miz Pio. Stars above, those babies would be looking a little rag tag if it were up to you alone.’ Pio took the admonishment good naturedly, knowing that there was probably some truth to it.

She helped to clear and wash the breakfast dishes, and dry them. When the last of them were put back into the proper cupboard, she took her leave of Amaranthas, saying that she would send the Inn’s wagon round for her next week and the Hobbit could visit her at the Inn.

Amaranthas motioned for her to bend down to her and surprised her with a kiss on the cheek. She pressed a cloth wrapped seed cake into her hands, saying she would look forward to the visit. ‘Now what did you say that Hobbit’s name was who was staying with you? I’ll bring her some of my mushroom pasties.’

‘Cami. Camelia Goodchild.’ said Pio as she mounted back on ‘Falmar.

Shaking her head, Amaranthas tsk! tsk’d! at seeing Pio back on the horse. She watched from her front steps as Pio made her way to the top of the hill and disappeared behind it. She was just preparing to go in, when she turned with a puzzled expression on her face and looked in the direction the Elf had gone.

‘Camelia Goodchild, was it? I knew of a Hobbit that had that name. A fey sort of creature as I recall.’ Her eyes looked keenly in the direction of the Inn. ‘It couldn’t be her, though. She’s been dead these many years. Couldn’t be.’

She closed the door securely behind her and sat down in her favorite chair to think.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-08-2003, 03:32 AM

19 Lotessë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

Noontime

‘Falmar delivered her rider safely back to the Inn. Pio dismounted and led her back to the stable for a wipe down and a small nose bag of oats. ‘I promise,’ she said, brushing the horse as it finished the snack, ‘that is the last time you will have to bear me until after the twins are born.’ She picked up the comb and began to work the tangles and grass tassles out of ‘Falmar’s tail. The horse nodded her head vigorously, indicating that she had finished, and Pio removed the feed bag. Picking up the currying brushes, she soon fell into the gentle repetitive rhythm of the strokes.

She let her mind drift as her hands continued the pattern of the brushing from front to back and round to the other side. The babies were resting, the occasional bump of a heel against her rib as they turned in their dreamings. Cami was in the Inn, her mind busy with plans for the small party. She could sense that she was happy, looking forward to the arrival of her old teacher. Mithadan’s thoughts were on the country side about him – enjoying the sights, enjoying the pleasant day, and wondering about . . . Ah! He was hungry. He was wondering whether he should stop for lunch or just ride on.

Stop and eat! Rest a little. she chided him gently. We’ll still be here.

The last part of the grooming was the mane. Carefully combing out the tangles where she had gripped it as they raced through the grasses, she worked from the withers up toward the forelock. Her mind drifted out once again, this time a little further.

A pattern of irritated, tired, and breathless thoughts caught her hands in mid stroke. She dropped the combs, her eyes went wide, and she doubled over in a fit of laughter, nearly losing the contact.

It was Bird! Flying north as fast her jackdaw wings could flap. A string of complaint and invective lost in the wind that streamed behind her.

‘Isn’t it just like that inconsiderate Elf. Goes traipsing off to some far off region, leaving poor Birdie to beat her wings to death trying to get there. Kids’ll probably be already weaned by the time their Auntie arrives! And who’s going to hold old Mith’s hand while he’s pacing the floor waiting for news of his heirs’ arrival? By the One, why couldn’t she be like the normal mother-to-be and stayed in Gondor, near the hubby, to do her nesting!’

Pio could feel the mounting fatigue in her dear companion.

Bird! Rest a while. You are almost here. Mithadan rides north also. I cannot tell how far apart you two are. You will be here in plenty of time to hold his hand!

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-08-2003, 03:39 AM

Some months earlier: Tuilérë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

Bird's Post

(Somewhere in Far Harad)

In the heat of the day the dark shelter of the cave was a welcome refuge. But the desert could get cold at night, so the bandits appeared as shadowy lumps, wrapped in filthy skins or stolen blankets to keep out the chill.

A small black and silver neekerbreeker crept along the wall of the cavern, waving her antennae and finding the smallest cracks which she could cling to with her sharp, bristly feet. She gazed down at the sleeping forms, searching for the leader and finally spying him; closest to the banked fire, of course.

She knew that this excursion was a waste of time. Two days of following the bandits and eavesdropping on their tedious conversations had convinced her that they had no knowledge of the people that she sought. In fact, Bird was sure that no self-respecting Skin Changer would have dealings with these stupid, but very dangerous Men. Their speech and manner were little better than Orcs.

But she had decided to do a thorough search of the leader's pack before she abandoned this particular dead end. There might be something hidden there; a letter, another map, a piece of carving. Any scrap of evidence that these brigands might have some knowledge of her secret kin.

Bird flexed her back legs, preparing to leap the distance from the wall to the pack, when Pio's message hit her like a ton of bricks:

"Auntie Bird! Shire. Three months. The twins. Loendë, Midsummer’s day. Come!"

Bird's antennae straightened as if they had received an electric shock, and a throbbing pain stabbed into both temples. She gasped and lost her hold on the cave wall, falling ten feet down to the dirt floor and landing on her back, where she struggled to right herself, all six legs scrambling furiously in the air.

As she wrestled to right herself, struggling in her rigid carapace, she let loose a furious stream of curse-words in six languages, including her newly acquired stock of Haradian phrases. Then her legs stilled, and for the first time the importance of the message sank in.

"Midsummer's Day? Why, where has the time gone? I only have three months to make it back to the North Lands for the birth! You'd think she would have given me a little more advance notice. Now if I can only right myself and get out of this infernal den!"

Help came from an unexpected source, as a massive, sour smelling bandit rolled over in his sleep, his pockmarked face a mere few inches away from the struggling insect. He drew a massive breath, and Bird could feel her lightweight body being sucked closer to the massive green teeth and slack jaw of the brigand. Then after a short pause, he released a long, spray-filled, lip-flapping snore, that washed a fetid odor of garlic and rotten teeth over the neekerbreeker, and blew her all of six inches away.

The force of the bandit's breath flipped Bird over, and she stood on all six legs, gagging from the noxious fumes that engulfed her, but upright at last.

A few minutes later the little neekerbreeker stood at the mouth of the cave, her hard-shelled head and faceted eyes gazing up at the full, desert moon. Then the body of the insect shifted and melted like a sugar-candy cricket, and in less than a moment, a small black-and-white bird stood in its place.

Bird raised her wings, sprang into the air, and for a moment was silhouetted against the huge, golden moon. Then the shadow of the jackdaw disappeared, as it turned and headed North.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-14-2003, 05:02 AM

19 Lotessë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

Afternoon

Amaranthas put on her straw hat with the soft brim and tied it neatly under her chin. A light wool shawl, white, went round her shoulders, even though the sun shone warmly this afternoon. Her bones chilled easily at her age, and she meant to ward off what discomfort she could. Taking a last look in the looking glass, she pushed a few stray white curls back from her forehead, and satisfied, picked up her blackthorn walking stick with the silver handle and went out the door. She was off to find a midwife for Miz Pio and her soon to be born twins.

She was bound for Bag End, to see Rose Cotton. Or rather Rose Cotton Gamgee as she was now called since her marriage to Samwise Gamgee. ‘One of those gallivanting Hobbits!’ she thought to herself as she trudged down the path from her house to the lane. Still, Rose had settled him down quite nicely, and they were well on their way to have a family of quite satisfactory size.

‘Now Miz Pio could take a lesson from that lass! Settle down, have plenty of children, tend the garden, and feed your husband well.’ Amaranthas stopped mid stride as this picture played through her mind. The thought of Miz Pio doing any of this set her cackling, and she drew out her lace edged hanky to wipe away the tears of mirth. ‘We’ll be lucky to get her through this birth. Poor git thinks she’s going to have such an easy time, her being an Elf and all. Used to having her own way. Hah!’

The venerable Hobbit resumed her walking, her mind turning to other matters. ‘And what about that so called husband of hers?’ she wondered out loud, her lips pursed in thought. ‘Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since she’s been here. Now what kind of fellow leaves his new wife, in a family way, to fend for herself far from him? A bounder, that’s who! That young man needs someone to set him straight on things.’ She thumped her stick vigorously on the ground as she thought about this, wondering if the so called husband, Mithadan, actually existed at all.

It was with these dark thoughts that she found herself already come to the little path that led upward to Bag End. She paused for a moment, to catch her breath, then trudged up the path and up the stairs to the round green door.

She tapped firmly on the door with the head of her stick, and stood back a pace to wait for the door to open.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-14-2003, 06:39 PM

Nuranar's Post

From the open window beside the door came a roar and a yelp. Suddenly a tiny Hobbit boy flew out the door, closely pursued by another. “Stop, Bilbo!” this one shouted between roars. “Smaug got you this time!” The two dashed past Amaranthas with nary a glance.

“Stop! Merry, that’s not supposed to happen!” called an older Hobbit boy, leaping after them. Behind him ran a girl, giggling delightedly. “Elanor, there’s someone at the door!” the boy yelled back to the Hobbit hole.

“What are you – oh!” Amaranthas turned back to the doorway. Framed in it, stood another girl. Her lovely golden curls framed a face that was renowned throughout the Shire, even in all of Amaranthas’ ninety years.

Remembering her manners, Elanor dropped a curtsey and invited the visitor in. “Please step into the parlor, ma’am.”

The parlor was a comfortable room, and like the rest of the house in a state of mild disarray. A matronly Hobbit bustled in from the kitchen, her cheeks rosy and her soft brown curls up in a bun. “Why, Miz Amaranthas! Please have a seat. May I get you anything?”

“I would look kindly upon some water, Rose dear. It’s a bit of a walk from my place and I’m not so young as you or those boys of yours!”

Rose laughed cheerily and indicated her own maternal figure. “As you can see, I’m not as spry as them right now anyway!” Suddenly the thin wail of a toddler broke upon their ears. “And speaking of…Elanor, would you take Goldilocks and Hamfast outside in the garden? It seems the boys woke them up. And make sure you keep Ham from eating the bugs! Miz Amaranthas, I’ll get you some water.”

By the time Rose returned, Amaranthas had established herself in Bilbo’s old chair by the fireplace. Setting the glass down on a table at her visitor’s elbow, Rose seated herself in a chair by the work table and fished out her thimble. “I’m sorry for the confusion, but it is such a surprise to see you. Tell me, what brings you to Bag End?”

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-14-2003, 06:40 PM

Small as Bilbo’s old chair was, it nearly swallowed the tiny figure of Amaranthas. Leaning forward in it, she picked up the glass from the table and took a long drink. Rose busied herself with her darning, peering at the neat seams she was making through the small wire rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She pulled the edges of a hole in one of little Merry’s breeches together with a fine seam, speaking softly to herself as she tied it off.

‘There! That should do it.” She held the garment up for inspection, and laughed. ‘If it makes it through Pippin’s wearing of it, I’ll be lucky. That boy is ten times harder on things than his older brothers!’

Amaranthas nodded her head, and admired Rose’s efficient handiwork, thinking of all the holes she had patched for her brood. ‘Enjoy the holes, Rose. And the tears, and all the missing buttons.’ she said to her, remembering her own lively boys. ‘They’re healthy boys. And hard to believe as it is now, they’ll be gone all too soon.’ Rose smiled at the old Hobbit and looked at her, over the rim of her glasses, waiting for her to go on.

She took another small sip of water and shifted in her seat to face Rose. ‘You asked what brings me to Bag End. Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve got a friend, new to the Shire, who’s just about ready to have her babies. Twins, they are. She’s staying at the Inn. Took over when the former Innkeeper was called away on family business, in fact. She’s asked me who might be the best midwife, as these are her first. And I naturally thought of you.’

Rose looked up, surprised that Amaranthas had taken such a friendly interest in a stranger. It had been a long time since she and Sam had had the opportunity to visit the Inn, and she had heard no word of who was innkeeper now. ‘And who is it who runs the Dragon, Amaranthas?’ she asked, putting away her sewing and leaning in closer so as not to miss a word. It was not often such an interesting bit of gossip came her way and she intended to get the full story. ‘What family does she come from? Is she from Buckland or beyond?’

The old Hobbit leaned forward in her chair, hands resting on the knob of her cane, planted firmly on the floor. ‘Well, my dear, I’m afraid the new innkeeper is come from farther away than Buckland or even Bree-land, for that matter. And she’s come from none of the families we might know about.’ Taking note of Rose’s furrowed brow, she paused, wondering how best to put this, then decided just to plunge in. ‘Her name is Piosenniel. A lovely woman, though none too knowledgeable about having babies.’ She cackled and told Rose what Miz Pio had said to her about her kind having only a little discomfort when their babies were born.

The furrows grew deeper along Rose’s brow, and she looked at Amaranthas with questioning eyes. ‘Her kind?’ she asked. ‘And, Piosenniel, that’s an odd name for a Hobbit. Even for one from far away, as you say.’

Amaranthas tapped her cane on the ground in irritation. ‘I knew that wasn’t going to come out well, the minute the words left my mouth.’ She sipped the last of her water and set the glass down carefully on the little table when she was done.

‘She’s not a Hobbit, Rose. Miz Pio is an Elf.’

Nuranar’s Post

The thimble dropped from Rose’s finger and tinkled along the floor. “An Elf?” she gasped. “But what is she doing in the Shire of all places?”

“I told you already, she took over at the Green Dragon,” Amaranthas snapped in a tone that clearly said, “Come on, Rose, get over it!”

Rose pulled herself back together. “Well, of course I’ll be the midwife for her. I haven’t any experience with Elven births – ”

Amaranthas snorted. “As if anyone else in the Shire has! You’ll do fine, with all your experience,” she winked. “I ween our Miz Pio may discover that ‘her kind’ really don’t have it that much easier than the rest of us.”

Rose giggled. “She’s in for a surprise!”

Pio’s Post

‘Mama! My dolly!’ The indignant yell of two year old Goldilocks spilled in through the parlour door, followed by the red faced toddler with two fat tears puddling on her cheeks. ‘Oh, Goldi, now what have those scamps done?!’ Rose cradled her sniffling daughter on her lap and tried to comfort her. But the girl wanted justice not hugs.

Goldi pointed a chubby baby finger at the window, as her rag doll sailed in an arc from one side to the other just outside on the lawn. ‘You’ll have to excuse me Miz Amaranthas,’ said Rose as she got up and peered out the window. ‘It seems I’m needed to referee in a case of kidnapped dollies.’

She placed Goldi on her hip and spoke firmly out the window to Merry who had just tossed the beloved doll to Pippin. Goldi howled as the doll dropped in the dirt in a missed catch, then stuck out her tongue at both boys when Rose reprimanded them.

‘I can see you’ve got your hands full, Rose.’ said Amaranthas, smiling at the mischief going on. ‘I’ll leave you to sort it out. No need to show me out. I know the way.’ She walked slowly to the door, her cane tapping on the wood floor as she went. Rose followed behind, opening the door for her as both of them went out.

‘I’ll send Miz Pio to see you soon.’ she called out to Rose as she headed down the stone walkway. Amaranthas looked back, unsure if she had heard her. Rose had already walked over to where Merry and Pippin stood shamefaced, looking down at their feet, but she looked up at the old Hobbits word’s and nodded.

Amaranthas chuckled, thinking those boys were in for it now. She hurried back to her house as quickly as her old legs would carry her. She would write a note to Piosenniel, she thought, and send it to the Inn, with one of the Bolger boys, early this evening.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-15-2003, 09:55 PM

Cami carefully dipped her feathered quill into the ink pot and set her pen to the first sheet of vellum. Beside her on the table lay a short list of friends and kin whom they had decided to invite to their dinner. Her eyes quickly scanned the names to make certain no one had been omitted: the Tooks, the Brandybucks, and the Gamgees; Bilbo's cousin Angelica Baggins; Fatty Bolger; and Amaranthas. Jotted underneath were the others who would need no formal invitations: herself and Piosenniel, Frodo, Bilbo, and the mysterious guest Lorien.

Cami stared at the last entry with a puzzled expression on her face, wondering why a Vala would bother visiting the Shire and just what he would look like. Outside of dreams, she'd met only one Vala face-to-face. That had been Ulmo, Masters of the Seas, who had visited the hobbits on the isle of Meneltarma at the time of the Choosing. She expected Lorien to be similar in appearance and behavior, very majestic and full of light, with a grave and measured demeanor, which would brook no familiarity or interference. She would need to mind her conduct and urge Piosenniel to do the same, since her friend had not seemed too happy about his coming.

Cami's reflections drifted away from Lorien to focus on Bilbo's expected arrival. It had been so long since she'd seen her teacher. Her last memory of him came from some thirty years before, when she'd sat under the Party Tree, long since cut down, and watched him vanish with no advance warning. Cami did not like to remember that day, since it held a secret she'd never admitted to her friends or even to herself. There had been a time, in fact a very long time, even after she'd learned about the Ring, when her main feeling towards Bilbo had been one of anger. She had repeatedly questioned why he had to disappear from her life without saying anything, leaving her hopes and plans so adrift. But the years had mellowed her heart, or so she imagined, and this resentment had slipped to the back of her mind with the excitement of her teacher's arrival.

Cami now bent to her task with renewed vigor and, within a short time, finished writing out her first invitation. It was done in an elegant, spidery script, that she'd learned some forty years before when, seated beside Sam, she'd studied her letters and numbers at Bilbo's kitchen table.

20 Thrimidge, Year 1433 S.R.

Honored Guest,

My friend Piosenniel and I are pleased to invite you and your family to a dinner party given at 7 o'clock sharp on 21 Thrimige in the Green Dragon Inn. This is a welcome home celebration for our dear friends Frodo and Bilbo Baggins who will be arriving that evening to spend some time with us in Hobbiton.

As many of my own friends recall, I myself have been absent from Hobbiton for some twenty-four years, and have only recently returned from my travels for a brief holiday in the Shire. I look forward to greeting each of you and catching up on all the local news I have missed.

At our dinner, you will also be able to meet my good friend Piosenniel who hails from a land far distant from here.

Your friend,

Cami Goodchild

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

An hour or so later, and Cami had finished her task. All the invitations lay stacked in a pile, neatly tucked inside their envelopes. Cami scooped them up in her hand, as her heart filled with pleasure. Never, in all her years, would she have dreamed this was possible. She ran to Pio's room and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Then she hurried down to the kitchen which now seemed largey deserted.

The Elf sat alone in front of the cooking fire staring at a letter that was set before her on the table. Cami wondered how many times Pio had read it and whether she'd committed all the words to memory. The hobbit made no comment on this, but quickly pressed the invitations into her friend's keeping. "Here they are! All done. Can you make sure these are delivered as soon as possible?"

Pio nodded in agreement. Then, the two women talked a bit on the various preparations that would be needed for the dinner and who would be responsible for each.

Pio took in Cami's quiet smile and observed, "You look happy, happier than I've seen in a long time."

"Yes, as happy as I can be." Cami's voice sounded content but still a little wistful. Yet Pio did not miss the hidden meaning of these words.

To cover over the moment, the hobbit quickly turned and pointed to where Mithadan's letter still lay on the table, placing her small hand over that of her friend, "Don't worry, you'll see him again soon. He'll be here for the twins' birth. Then everything will be alright."

Pio sighed and, remembering that Lorien was coming, thought with some bitterness, Why can I not say the same thing to her?

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

Child of the 7th Age

02-15-2003, 10:30 PM

"You know, Frodo, I shall be quite content to see it again, just one more time, after all these years." Bilbo ran a hand through his mane of silver curls and contentedly nursed a pipe, as he recalled the night he had left the Shire over thirty years before. "And you?" he asked, gazing towards his nephew.

Frodo's response came with little hesitation. "The land, the fields, all my favorite hidden spots....it will be good to visit those again." Then he turned to Bilbo and laughed. "What a pair we make! Here we sit in the most beautiful place in all of Arda, talking about somewhere else that's very far away."

Bilbo smiled, "No, there can't be more goodness or peace than what we have here." His eyes swept over the horizon, with the gentle dales and hills that could be seen from their doorstep, its mountains and ocean shores peeping out from behind. "Beautiful, yes, and pure. A fine place to go for a nice, long visit, but it still isn't home."

He settled back in the chair the younger hobbit had set out for him on their front stoop. The last few months had seen a gradual change in Bilbo's physical strength as the older hobbit found himself walking more slowly, and needing to lean against another's arm. Still, his mind was bright and clear, and that was all he could possibly want.

Frodo found himself speaking in an almost wistful tone. "For me, it's the friends we had. I keep remembering them. Merri and Pippin and Sam, especially Sam. I wonder how that will go." Frodo knew he'd changed in certain ways from his stay in the West. His Quenyan was fluent, and he was adept at osanwe. Yet there were also a few more grey hairs on his head. Even Tol Eressea couldn't change that. But he wouldn't be the only one who was different. Sam had probably changed too, in ways he couldn't even guess.

"I expect we'll find out soon, any day now." Bilbo took a puff on his pipe and continued. "It's strange. When I was younger, I was convinced that you and I would find time to travel and share some adventures outside the Shire. But I never dreamed we'd be sharing them here, in the West. And, now, we head out on another trip, the final one I think, or at least for me."

The two hobbits looked intently at each other. Then Bilbo leaned back, set down the pipe, and closed his eyes. There are certain things for which words are not needed. Frodo went inside and brought out a woolen blanket, tucking it about the older hobbit's lap to protect him from the cool night air. He sat down on the step nearby and leaned against Bilbo's knee, as a misty, silver curtain seemed to fall in place, bringing with it an abundance of dreams and hope.

Mithadan's Post:

Lorien stood above the slumbering Hobbits with Olorin and gazed down upon Frodo and Bilbo with a faint smile. Then he turned to his companion and spoke in the tongue of the Valar. "Art thou certain of this venture, Olorin?" he said. "It seems much to undertake for the benefit of a few of the Younger Children, even such honored ones as these."

"Certain?" replied the Maia. "Thou knowest that nought is certain beyond the Music of the Ainur and that the ways of Man twist and evade Fate at every turn. Yet it is right that we do this. These Perianath are deserving of some reward for their faithful services and this seems little enough. So too are Maura, Cami and those who labored with The Lonely Star deserving."

A wry grin appeared on Lorien's face. "Very well, then. But perhaps I should thank thee, for it has been ages since I have walked upon Middle Earth, save perhaps in thought."

Olorin looked uncomfortable. "Master Lorien, art thou certain that thou should accompany the Hobbits?" he said. Then he shifted his speech into Westron. "You are less familiar with the ways of Middle earth than I. And you must be placed in a physical body for that is our way; the powers no longer may walk the fields of the mortal lands without doing so. In taking the shape of a Man, you are subject to the hurts of the world. Moreover, you must conceal your identity to all but a few and speak their Common Tongue. Are you certain that you wish to do this?"

"Aye, Olorin," Lorien answered in Westron. "I am certain. And I will take care. I thank thee...thank you for your concern. And I believe that I shall enjoy this."

With that, Lorien raised his arms and shed the appearance of a body with which he clothed himself in Valinor. Unclothed, he shone brightly for a moment until a mist flowed about him. Then the light dimmed and he stood before Olorin, tall and shrouded in a grey cloak. His hair and beard were silver and his eyes blue as the sky. He looked down upon his body and smiled. "Hmmm. Interesting." Then he looked up at Olorin again. "Before we go, would you be so kind as to tell me about...pipeweed?"

[ February 18, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

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

piosenniel

02-18-2003, 05:34 AM

Cami had somehow finagled the Elf, in her usual way, into doing a chore for her. And now Pio found herself sitting at the kitchen table of the Inn after the Hobbit had left, with a stack of invitations that needed delivering this afternoon at the very latest. She could not recall having actually agreed to do this for her friend, but it was best just to get it done and let Cami get on with the preparations for the party.

She changed clothes, putting on a pair of tights that would accommodate her girth, and a large, loose shirt with long sleeves. A bright, tapestry vest brought some color to the outfit, though she bemoaned the fact the vest must hang open, since it would not close over the swell of her belly. Her soft leather knee boots were on her feet, a knife hidden in each top, And beneath the voluminous sleeves of her shirt were strapped her two daggers, one to each forearm. Her hair hung long, cascading in thick waves to her mid back, the occasional curl straying down the front of her shoulders.

All of the invitations, but one, she delegated to one of the servers at the Inn to deliver. She gave him a silver penny and sent him off in haste, saying that as soon as he returned he would have the twin to the first coin in his hand. She watched with some amusement as he pocketed the penny in his vest, and tucking the invitations into a satchel hung from his shoulder, he ran down the path as fast as his short Hobbit strides would take him.

Pio turned from watching him, and went to the stable for the second time that day. Hearing the familiar footsteps, ‘Falmar whinnied at her and looking over the stall door, eyed her with something akin to equine amusement. ‘I know. I promised that I had ridden you for the last time until after the babies are born.’

‘Falmar stomped her hoof hard on the ground and shook her mane vigorously as Pio opened the stall door and waved her out. ‘And again, I know! Amaranthas has lectured me thoroughly on the dangers of riding at this late date. Not to mention what Cami would say if she saw me mount you.’ She led the horse to a stack of small wooden crates and climbing to the top of them, pulled herself onto the back of the patient steed.

‘Quietly and quickly now.’ she urged her mount in a soft voice. Pio had not taken time to bridle ‘Falmar, but simply twisted her hands in the thick mane and tapped her lightly with her heels. She passed quickly through the Inn’s yard, to the small road that led west to Hobbiton, then turned north onto Hill Lane and crossing The Water went up the small rise to Bag End.

The invitation was secured in the inner pocket of her vest, and she patted it occasionally to make sure it was still there. ‘Master Samwise Gamgee and Family’ was written in Cami’s lovely hand on the front of it, and Pio wondered if the venerable Hobbit, Sam, would be surprised to hear from an old friend. At any rate, she thought, this would be a good opportunity to introduce herself to his missus, Miz Rose.

The round, green door of Bag End came into view. ‘I wonder if Amaranthas had the chance to see her today as she said she would.’ she thought, as she drew nearer to the house. She dismounted at the entrance to the steps leading up to Bag End. ‘Falmar she left to wander on the greensward.

Pio climbed the steps to the front porch of the house, taking in the welcoming sight of lovely flowers growing to each side of the pathway. She reached down, delighting in the petalled beauty, and plucked a small sprig of fragrant rock daphne to ornament her hair.

She straightened her clothes as she stood there, and brushed the dust of the road from them as best she could. Then taking the invitation from her vest pocket, she held it carefully in one hand and rapped loudly on the door with the other.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-18-2003, 08:16 AM

Rose Cotton's post for Rosie:

The young hobbit girl struggled to keep a grip on the watering can as she made her way to the flowerbed in front of Bag End. Slowly Rosie tipped the can and sprinkled the flowers. A wide grin spread across the
eight-year old's face as she went about her task. Daddy would be so proud of her.

While this thought crossed her mind, she had heard someone coming up the road. As the person had come over the ridgem Rosie could scarcely believe her eyes. Was that an elf? She watched in awe as the tall figure passed through the gate and up to the burrow, knocking at her front door.

Now Rosie was sure this was an elf. She looked exactly like the ones in her daddy's stories. The elf bent low and spoke to her in a kindly voice.

"Hello. Is your mother inside?"

"Who are you?" asked Rosie curiously.

"I am Piosenniel. My friends call me Pio. Is your mother home?"

Rosie gestured excitedly for Pio to follow her into the house.

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

Arwen Baggin's post:

"Momma! Frodo and Pippin are throwing rocks at the neighbor’s dog!" Elanor Gamgee yelled in through the open window of Bag End.

Rose Gamgee sighed, and looked out into the sunlight. "Elanor dear, just tell them to come inside. Hurry now. We don’t want them in trouble again." Rose shook her head and went back to her chair.

Elanor skipped over to where her brother's were, and almost froze when she saw her little sister Rosie greeting a very tall person, and letting her into their house. "Rosie! What are you doing?"

The stranger and her sister both looked at her, and Rosie yelled, "Elanor! Don’t be so mean to our guest!" Rosie waddled in her bright yellow dress over to her sister. "She’s an Elf! See! I’ve never seen a hobbit that big! She wants to see Mommy."

Elanor rubbed her eyes, and grabbed her sister’s hand. ‘An Elf! Here at Bag End!’ They walked forward, and Elanor curtsied to her guest. "Welcome to Bag End. I am Elanor. This is my sister, Rosie. Welcome, Welcome. Come, step inside."

The Elf chuckled in a friendly manner, and stepped ahead of them. She waited for the hobbit girls, and Elanor opened the door to their home.

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

piosenniel

02-18-2003, 01:46 PM

Pio stood in the Front Hall and looked about her. The two young girls had scampered off to fetch their mother or father she supposed, and being curious, she stepped through the rounded entrance to her left and into a long hallway. It was cool; no, not cool, but just a pleasant temperature here under the hill. A pleasant relief from the hot, midsummer’s day she had just ridden in.

On her left, as she walked slowly down the corridor was the entry way into the parlor and on her right, the drawing room. She knew she should probably go in to one of them and wait patiently, but the smell of something good to eat drew her further on to the kitchen just past the drawing room.

She peeked in, and seeing no one went in. There, in all their sumptuous glory, were set blackberry muffins on large wire racks on the wooden counter to cool. One of the berries, it seemed, winked at her from its pastry throne, its shiny black skin catching the light from the small kitchen fire. Laughing, she bowed courteously to it, and picked it up from its fellows. She bit into it, crumbs from the warm, plump muffin falling unheeded onto her vest.

‘Ah! This is wonderful!’ she said, her lips stained a dark red from the juice of the berries. She took another bite, and went searching for some milk to wash it down.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Nuranar

02-18-2003, 02:20 PM

The stone pitcher on the table appeared to be sweating in the heat. But no - it was full of cold milk, apparently just brought from the springhouse. 'Perfect!' Pio murmured to herself. She swiftly poured a glass and sauntered through the hallway to the parlor, prepared to pull the innocent-abandoned-visitor stunt when she was discovered.

Through the open window she saw and heard two young boys scamper through the front door, glancing behind them as if they expected pursuit. Ah, the dog-abusers have returned home! Pio thought. Their giggles faded back deeper into the house.

Suddenly the comparative peace of the afternoon was rent in no uncertain manner. 'BOYS! Come here right now! Who's been in the muffins?'

Jumping guiltily, Pio flushed and crept to the door of the kitchen. Lined up in a row were the two - oh, and now three - boys, all with bewildered expressions. 'Mama, we didn't even know you made them!' the tallest protested with an air of injured innocence.

The matronly hobbit woman who stood over them raised a skeptical eyebrow. 'Muffins don't walk away, Frodo. Now who ate it?'

Carrûn

02-18-2003, 03:23 PM

Frodo was sitting next to his favorite window; one with bright green trim that looked out towards the West. He was lazily alternating between daydreaming and dozing in the sunlight. Bright rays glinted off of shining swords as the two armies raced down opposite ends of the valley towards each other.

He laughed, chiding himself, and attempted to re-focus his attention on the papers before him. His father was a good teacher, but a gardener at heart. Frodo had a deeper desire to learn more about the scripts and tounges of Middle-Earth. He sighed. He mulled a few phrases of basic Elvish that Sam had imparted to him over in his head. His brother Pippin's head poked in through the window. "Come on! Old Bowser taking a nap!" Grinning, Frodo crawled out of the window. Creeping over towards the old dog they began tossing a few small rocks towards him, then running behind a small stump to hide. He heard one of his sisters shout from the other side and grabbed his brother's hand. "Let's go Pip - game's up!" Rushing back through the window he set himself down again and attempted to look like he had been reading all along.

His false appearence was inturupped by the sharp, knife-like tone of a very upset mother - his mother. 'BOYS! Come here right now! Who's been in the muffins?' Stumbling over himself, he rushed to the kitchen to find two of his brothers already lined up looking as innocent as possible. Scrambling in to place he added a few words of his own for communal defense: 'Mama, we didn't even know you made them!' She was not convinced. 'Muffins don't walk away, Frodo. Now who ate it?'

Frodo didn't seem to hear her. He was staring past his mother with his mouth gaping. ‘I am afraid you have the wrong culprits this time, Miz Rose.’ There in the doorway stood what the young hobbit lad assumed was an elf. She was holding a glass of milk but all the boy noticed were the various knives she was carrying. He felt like he should say something and attempted to work his tounge to form some sort of greeting but found himself unnable to do so. Finally noticing that his lower jaw was nearing his chest he closed his mouth with a snap. The elf winked and Frodo relaxed, but his amazement did not lessen.

[ February 18, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

piosenniel

02-18-2003, 03:24 PM

‘I am afraid you have the wrong culprits this time, Miz Rose.’

The grinning Elf stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding up the half full glass of milk and her now empty, berry-stained hand. ‘In fact, if I might, I should like to have just one more muffin. The other twin needs one, too.’ She winked at the three, open mouthed boys and bowed her head courteously to their mother.

‘My name is Piosenniel. Pio, to my friends.’ She nodded, smiling at the three boys, and moved further into the kitchen. ‘Did little Rose and Elanor tell you I had come?’ Placing her glass on the counter, she fished the invitation out of her vest and handed it to Rose. ‘This is for Master Samwise Gamgee and Family. An invitation to a dinner party at The Green Dragon, tomorrow night.’

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

ArwenBaggins

02-18-2003, 04:15 PM

Before Rose could respond to the woman, her daughter Elanor had run up behind her. Elanor was eyeing the muffins, and also stared closely at Pio who still stood dusting off the crumbs.

Noticing the envelope in Rose's hands, Elanor asked, "What’s that Mama?" By standing on tiptoe, she could just peer over her mother's shoulder and see that it was addressed to ‘Samwise Gamgee and Family.’ Rosie-lass came running behind Elanor, and skidded to a stop, anxious not to miss any of the fun.

"Oh, this is an invitation to a dinner party tomorrow night at the Green Dragon hosted by Piosenniel and our cousin Cami Goodchilde, whom we haven't seen in a very long time."

Rose lifted up the invitation to read it again. A look of surprise came over her face, but she said nothing. Instead she turned to her children. "I need to share this with your father right away. Elanor, would you know where he is?" Miz Rose peered down one of the halls, searching for any sign of her husband.

"I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since breakfast. I’ve been outside all day."

Miz Rose turned to Rosie to ask her the same question, but the little girl just shrugged her shoulders.

"If you will excuse me for just a moment, I need to find my husband." Miz Rose nodded politely in Piosenniel's direction, motioning toward one of many chairs. "Please make yourselves comfortable. Elanor and Rosie will help you if you need anything at all." Miz Rose bent down to plant a kiss on both her daughters' heads, then walked down the hall to search for Sam and share the good news with him.

[ February 19, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Nurumaiel

02-19-2003, 06:22 PM

At a desperate and protesting scream from the garden, Angelica Baggins Muddyfoot looked out the window and gave a groan. Throwing the window open, she shouted to one of the two children sitting on the grass, "Fosco Muddyfoot, stop that right now!" Her youngest child, a three-year-old girl, began running towards the front door, sobbing. Angelica gave her son a look that clearly said, "I'll deal with you later," and then rushed to the door.

Her daughter's gold-brown hair was smeared with mud, as well as her dress. Angelica sighed as she picked up the little girl. At least she had her apron on. Fosco will catch it from his father for doing that to his sister, she thought as she carried the child into the bedroom to get her tidied up. I wonder where he learned that? He did it to the neighbor's girl just two days ago.

"There, there, Prisca-baby, don't be worrying your pretty head," Angelica said, helping the girl change. "We'll get you all tidied up and you'll look fine in no time." But Prisca continued to sob. Angelica sighed and began to wash her daughter's hair.

Twins! They hated and loved each other at the same time. Unfortunately with this particular set of twins they spent most of their time together hating each other. Her friend over in Buckland had twins and they were the best of friends, though they occasionally fought.

Madoc, her eldest son, could be heard calling from the front door, "Mum! Mum!"

"Yes, Madoc?" Angelica called back.

"There's someone at the door for you!"

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't come right now. Ask him to leave a message!" Her mind was elsewhere, and whatever she was thinking of made her groan. Today is the 20th of Thrimidge. That means I have to get the clothes washed. And there'll be even more work if Fosco keeps this up. She looked down at her daughter.

"That's what he's leaving, Mum. He's delivered a message." There was the sound of a door closing, and feet running down the hall.

"Don't run, Madoc!" Angelica said. How many times did she have to tell the children that? A strand of her brown hair fell into her face, and she dropped Prisca's hair for a moment to tie her own back once more. The little girl screamed as the wet hair fell down her back. Angelica hurriedly finished doing her daughter's hair, and then left the room to find Madoc.

She found him sitting on a bench near the front door, holding a letter. As she approached him he looked up and held out the letter for her to take. "It's addressed to you, Mum, from someone called Camelia Goodchild."

Angelica practically snatched the letter from her son's hands and read it excitedly. After she had finished she set it down on a table and began pacing back and forth. She had been invited to a party at the Green Dragon the next evening, which would be a welcome home party for her cousin Frodo and uncle Bilbo. Cami had said that Piosenniel, an Elf, would be there as well.

Angelica sat down next to Madoc and thought for a moment. Bilbo… Frodo… Elves? It was very confusing to her. "I'm afraid I can't," she said, standing up. "Merimac would come with me, of course. I couldn't leave the children alone, and I can't think of anyone I would trust to be responsible enough to take care of them, especially the twins."

"It says to take the family with you," a voice behind her said. She started and whirled around, smiling with relief to see it was only her husband. He smiled back. "You've told me about your friend Camelia more than once, and I'm sure you'd love to see her again. No doubt you want to see your two relatives as well… Bilbo and Frodo."

"But we couldn't take the family, Merimac," Angelica protested. "The twins would cause such havoc, and - "

"I'll watch after the twins," he said, giving a stern look to Fosco, who had just entered the room. "Now, if our little girl is correct, I need to deal with Fosco."

Angelica smiled her pretty smile, and walked out of the room, saying, "I think I should find good clothes for all of us to wear for tomorrow."

[ February 19, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

piosenniel

02-19-2003, 07:16 PM

‘This is nice.’ thought Pio, surveying the clutter of the Gamgee family’s house. ‘Nice and homey and comfortable.’ All those children, and one more on the way! She wondered how her own home and the Lonely Star would look with two lively children running about. Pio let her mind drift idly with these thoughts as she sat in the kitchen munching on the last of her muffin, feet up on another chair.

She supposed she should go soon. Get back to the Inn to help Cami prepare for the party. But the indolent mood of a warm summer’s afternoon was full upon her and she only wanted to sit here, in this kitchen, with nothing to do but lick the last of the blackberries from her fingers and relax.

Her reverie was ended when she heard the whispers and giggles. She smiled, and sat up straight, resting her feet firmly back on the ground. ‘You are still all here!’ Five pairs of curious eyes were glued on her, though none spoke. She motioned the boys - Frodo, Merry, and Pippin to her. ‘I thought your ammë had sent you off to wash?’ she questioned them.

The two younger boys look toward Frodo, frowns on their faces. ‘Mother.’ he said, holding his hands out to her to inspect them. ‘Ammë is the Elvish word for it.’ Merry and Pippin nodded and held out their chubby little hands, too. Frodo’s hands were quite clean, as were Merry’s. But, little Pippin’s fingers had streaks of berry still on their tips, and when she pointed that out to him, he smiled sweetly at her and stuck one and two at a time in his mouth and sucked off the telltale coloring. ‘Better?’ he asked, holding them up again for her inspection. ‘Much improved!’ she answered laughing.

Elanor and little Rose had drifted nearer as she spoke to their brothers. She could tell that Elanor was bursting with questions, but her position as the eldest of the children in the room placed constraints upon her to be less impulsive and more mature. Frodo, too, had been eyeing her knives, but as the elder brother held back his curiosity, trying to set a good example for his younger brothers.

Little Rose and the two younger boys had no such reservations. Rosie leaned in against Pio’s left arm, and played with a strand of Pio’s long hair, and found no problem in asking her numerous questions. Between replies, Pio listened to Merry tell her about his day, and how he’d found a hop toad and fed it some earth worms. Pippin, sidled up onto what was left of Pio’s lap and patted her belly. ‘You’re gonna be an ammë, too. Just like mine.’

Soon, Elanor and Frodo could stand being the silent ones no longer. Their voices chimed in, too, with their questions and comments. And Frodo’s eyes went wide when Pio pulled back her sleeves to show him the knives strapped to her arms, and the throwing knives hidden in the tops of her boots. ‘Come see me at the party tomorrow,’ she said, leaning toward him, and handing him one of her boot knives to inspect, ‘I will probably have need of an excuse to leave the party for a while. You can come to my rooms; I can show you my sword, and helm, and mithril shirt.

By this time, Pio had moved off the chair and now sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor with the children in a tight circle around her. Pippin still sat on her lap, and Rosie was practicing hair braiding, as if Pio were a big doll, come to life.

It was this scene in which Miz Rose found her guest when she returned to the kitchen. An Elf sitting happily on the floor, the Gamgee children crowded round her, plying her with questions and a running commentary on the world as they saw it. She clapped her hands and they stood up, looking a little guilty. Pio stood up, too, saying how delightful they all were, and how much she enjoyed their company.

Miz Rose still had the invitation in her hand. Pio asked if Sam had seen it as yet, and could she tell Cami that her old friend would be coming. Miz Rose said she couldn’t find him, and sent the children out to look for him. Laying the invitation down on the counter, she too went out to see if he’d gone to one of the neighbor’s houses to visit.

Rosie peeked back in the kitchen once everyone had left and took Pio by the hand. ‘I know where he is.’ She handed the invitation to Pio and pulled her down the hall toward her father’s study. ‘Sometimes he doesn’t answer the door when he’s busy writing.’

‘I see.’ said Pio, hurrying after her.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-19-2003, 08:04 PM

Orual's Post

"My dear Marigold,

"I hope that this letter finds you in good health and good spirits. It has been far too long since I last wrote you. Being Mayor, husband, and father keeps me from the pen, and I have missed hearing from you. I hope that you will forgive your brother for failing to write to you for so long.

"The children are growing before my very eyes. Elanor is now thirteen, and you can work out for yourself what the ages of the rest are, more or less: two years apart, save Goldilocks and Hamfast, who are a year apart. Rose often complains that since she married me she's done little but have children. I trust that your own children are doing well, and tell them that their Uncle Sam sends his love, as do their Aunt Rose and their cousins...all of them.

"I have to admit, things have been a bit insane around here. I have just begun my second term as Mayor, and am continuing my duties, though I'll say that it has become easier with practice. My ever-expanding brood has reached the respectable number of eight. However, Rosie will tell you grimly that she doubts it will stay there long, for she's still young and we're trying for at least ten, though our secret goal is to continue Mr. Bilbo's tradition of trying to beat the Old Took and have thirteen to his twelve.

"Adding to the craziness here in Hobbiton is my putting the finishing touches to the Red Book that Mr. Frodo left me. Ellie's begun to help me some with sorting through papers, and Frodo-lad is begging to do his own part, and I've let him, though sometimes having two children in the room while I try to work is not the best atmosphere in which to get...well, to get anything done. But they're enthusiastic, and I do want them to remember this Book, and this Story, long after I'm gone, so I don't mind putting a little extra time and effort into it so long as they're interested. I'll let Rosie-lass help soon, once she's ready.

"It's funny how things never end, isn't it? I thought so many times that my part in history was over...first at Rivendell, then at the Fields of Cormallen, then after the Scouring, and finally after Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo left to the West. But it seems that I'm still the bearer of the flame, my duty being not to let anybody forget what happened.

"But while I keep dwelling on the past, you live in the present, and I've taken up enough of your present. Again, my deepest and most heartfelt apologies for my long absence from your post-box, dear sister. Please do not keep your own pen from the paper to punish me!

Your loving brother,

Samwise Gamgee."

Sam blew gently on the papers to dry the ink, then carefully folded the pages, tucked them into an envelope, and addressed it. He set it aside on his desk; he'd put it out later. For now, he was going to check on Rosie, see if she needed anything. She was well along in her pregnancy now.

He had just got up to leave when he heard footsteps and the excited voice of his daughter Rose, as well as another voice that he did not recognize. Curious, his attention wavered from the task at hand, and he went up to the door. "Rosie-lass?" he called. "Is somebody here?"

He couldn't understand his daughter's muffled reply, and, a little worried, he picked up his pace and quickly arrived at the door. To his surprise, Rosie-lass was standing there with a stranger--and an Elf, no less. In his astonishment, Sam didn't say anything for a slightly impolite length of time, then hastened to introduce himself.

The visitor returned the courtesy, introducing herself as Piosenniel, but assured him that such introductions were unnecessary, and that she knew who he was, and had something for him. She then proceeded to give him a cream-coloured envelope with his name written on it in elegant, spidery calligraphy, though he did not recognize the handwriting. He thanked her very politely and saw her off, thanked Rosie-lass for keeping Piosenniel company before he came, and left to his study to read the letter.

Sam opened the envelope carefully, took the letter out and unfolded it. It was to his complete and lasting shock that it turned out to be from his cousin and childhood friend, Camellia Goodchild, from whom he had not heard for years. Preoccupied with memories, his eyes read over the rest of the page but he didn't truly read it. However, he caught sight of two names that stopped him dead in his tracks: Frodo and Bilbo Baggins.

He re-read that sentence, that said they were returning to Middle-earth, well approaching fifteen times. He wanted to make sure that it hadn't been a misread. How could this be? They were returning? From the West? Was that even possible? Sam put the letter down and rubbed his eye. It couldn't be true. But Cami wouldn't lie to him, especially not about this. And the signature was most certainly Cami's handwriting; he hadn't seen her in a long time, but he knew her hand when he saw it. This was authentic; this was from Cami, and thus he was sure that it must be true.

And he was truly convinced, in his heart, that it was. But that didn't make it any easier for him to deal with. He glanced at his own envelope, the one which contained his letter to his sister Marigold. He had written, just a few minutes ago, It's funny how things never end, isn't it? He shook his head. "Things never do end, apparently," he whispered to himself.

It had been twelve years since he had last seen Frodo and Bilbo. Over the course of those twelve long years, he had changed, naturally, his life had changed. How much more had Frodo changed, having spent those years west of West? Sam was pretty sure that he himself was still more or less the same; a little older, hopefully a little wiser, and with several more children, to be sure, but basically the same Sam Gamgee who had been eavesdropping under the windows at Bag-End all those years ago. But was Frodo the same person who had tried not to laugh when Sam was caught at it?

Sam sighed. One of the last things Frodo had said to him before he left was, "You cannot be always torn in two." Now once again he was torn in two; half of him was happier than words could express that he would see his dear master again, and the other half of him wondered if he indeed was seeing his dear master again, and worried. He laughed, and wondered what Frodo would say, were he in that room to see Sam's predicament. "Even sad when I'm happy," Sam murmured to himself, as he wrote out an R.S.V.P. "I ought to be waiting for this meeting, for what it is!" With that thought, and that letter written, he went back to his task to see if his wife needed anything.

Pio’s Post

Miz Rose was back in the kitchen when Pio wandered out toward the front door. Rosie had left her to join a game of tag Merry and Pippin were playing, and Pio waved her on, saying she would see her tomorrow night.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Miz Rose walked with Pio to the front door, and paused in the entry way with her to tell her of Amarantha’s visit earlier that afternoon. ‘And were you agreeable to what she suggested?’ asked the Elf, her brow furrowed. Her face creased into a smile when heard Rose say ‘yes’. ‘Ah! Good. Then let us speak more about it once the party is over and done with. I can come to your house again, if you wish, or you can come to see me at the Inn. Let me know tomorrow at the party, what would be most convenient for you.’

Rose smiled and said she would indeed do that. She walked with Pio to the end of the stone walk, to the little gate there. Miz Rose clucked her tongue as she saw her mount her horse and head down the lane. What was that Elf thinking!

Pio waved back at her as ‘Falmar bore her down the road, blithely unaware that Rose and Amaranthas both shared the same opinions about the riding of horses . . .

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

Amaranthas was her usual curt self as she hobbled to the door. ‘Who’s bothering an old lady’s rest at this time of the afternoon!’ she hollered. Her long walk to Rose Gamgee’s had not done her hips any good. They ached even though she had drunk an infusion of willow bark in branch water and had laid hot bricks wrapped in thick flannel up against them.

Minto Boffin sighed, as he waited patiently for the door to open. He had purposely made this his last stop in delivering the invitations, hoping somehow that the one belonging to the old Hobbit would somehow be lost. He felt foolish, too. Here he was, a respectable thirty-five year old young man, still afraid of catching the thin end of the stick from the Old Dragon.

He winced, thinking of how he and his brothers had bedeviled her one summer, in their younger days. Pinching the heads off her prize flowers and eating the sweet middles from many of her melons. She had stood in her melon patch under a new moon, dressed in rag tag fashion, like a small scarecrow, right next to the biggest melon in the patch – the one they had their eyes on for weeks.

Laughing and joking that the Dragon was sleeping while they plucked the treasure, the three brothers sneaked into the patch and sat around the melon in a ring. Moro had taken out his knife and was just about to cut into the prize, when the ‘scarecrow’ stepped forward and laid into the thieves with her blackthorn stick, stinging them soundly on their legs as they popped up and made a run for it.

Worse yet, they lied the next day when she came to speak to their parents, saying that they had been nowhere near Miz Amaranthas’ garden patch. It was then that Amaranthas stuck out her stick and picked up the cuff of Minto’s breeches, revealing the angry red stripes still evident on his legs. Needless to say their Mother was mortified, and they spent a very dull summer at home, helping with all the household chores under her watchful eye. And one day a week, the three of them trooped to Miz Amaranthas’ house and weeded the garden and the flower beds.

It was a long time ago, but the respect for the Old Dragon and her stick had not diminished with the passing years.

‘It’s Minto, Miz Amaranthas.’ He yelled back at her through the still closed door. ‘Minto Boffin. With an invitation from Mistress Piosenniel at the Green Dragon.’

I’m not deaf, you ninny! Just a little achy and slow today.’ The door had opened and Amaranthas stepped forward to take the invitation from Minto’s outstretched hand. He gaped in surprise when she asked him to wait as she fished a silver penny from the bag at her waist. ‘Don’t tempt the flies, Minto!’ she told him, placing the penny in his hand.

She dismissed him with a wave of her stick and turned to go back inside. He hurried off the step and down the path, her last words chasing after his hastily retreating form. ‘And don’t pick any of my flowers, you young scamp, or I’ll be seeing your mother again about you!’

Once back in her house, she opened the invitation slowly, savoring the feel of the rich vellum and the smell of the ink. Her eyes lit up when she read the words written by Cami. There was to be a party! For Bilbo and Frodo – of all people! And she was to go to it.

Her hips protested as she walked to her chair and sat down to finish her tea. She sighed, wondering how she was to make it to the Inn. A small thin slip of paper fell from the envelope, fluttering in the breeze from her open window. It landed on the rug in front of her. She leaned over and picked it up. It was a short note, written in a bold hand.

Miz Pio was coming to pick her up with the pony cart! She would be there promptly at five p.m. tomorrow evening, the note said, and would dear Amaranthas please be ready to go by then. ‘Bless that child!’ she said to herself, hoisting herself up from the depths of the chair. Only a day away. What would she wear. These old widow’s weeds would not do to meet the legends of the Shire!

She cackled to herself as she hobbled to the closet. Legends indeed! Why she could remember Frodo when he was a mere slip of a lad. And Bilbo she remembered as being thought the prize catch for young girls by their mothers, at one time. Him and Bag End, that is.

In the back of her closet, in the long cedar chest made for her by her late husband, was her long, dark green, silk party dress. She had put it away many years ago with some dried flowers of fragrant niphredil to keep it fresh, thinking never to have the occasion to wear it again. It was a deep green, dark, the color of kale grown in rich soil, with small jet buttons on the bodice.

She plucked it out, shaking off the long dried to dust petals, and held it up to her. It would still fit her small, spare body, though she had shrunk in height, and what once had been ankle length now touched the floor. She pulled out her small jewelry box and opened it as she sat down on the edge of her bed. Her fingers ran lovingly over the few small treasures she had in there. A strand of amber beads from her mother’s mother. A silver chain with a single pearl, a present form her husband on the birth of their first child. A bracelet set with sparkling yellow topaz, a gift from her father on her twenty-fifth birthday.

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

Minto Boffin had promised his brother Moro a silver penny if he would saddle the pony and make his way to Buckland. ‘Why should I ride all the way there? Isn’t there someone around here I could deliver to? You ride the pony.’ He stood firm on this until Minto handed him the other invitation to be delivered. Amaranthas Bolger! Oh my! He grabbed the invitation to Merry from Minto’s hands and ran out to saddle Buttercup.

He didn’t stray often out of Hobbiton and Bywater, so the way to Master Meriadoc’s was not known to him. It was early afternoon when he and Buttercup crossed the Bridge of Stonebows where the Great East Road met the Brandywine River. The farmer’s market near Hay Gate was still in full swing, local Hobbits buying things to fill out the evening meal. He stopped at the stall of a root vegetables vendor and pulling the invitation from his satchel showed it to the weathered farmer.

Meriadoc Brandybuck, Esq.
Brandy Hall
Buckland, The Shire

‘Oh, it’s Himself that you’ll be wanting. Meriadoc the Magnificent, Master of Buckland.’ The farmer began gesturing to the south, down the well beaten path that lay along the Brandywine River. By this time, a small crowd had gathered, all wanting to see the invitation, and all offering helpful tips on how to get to Brandy Hall. Comments and questions flew fast, and soon Moro’s head was spinning. ‘No’, he didn’t know what the invitation was about. Some dinner party at the Green Dragon he thought. And ‘no’, he had no idea that Master Merry had been called Holdwine of the Shire in Rohan. And how interesting, that he was interested in the local Shire herbs and was writing a book about them.

The farmer he had first approached retrieved the invitation from the others’ hands and gave it back to Moro. He called his goodwife to him, saying that he would be gone just a short while. Then taking Moro firmly by the elbow, he urged him up to his wagon’s seat and the two of them headed south to Brandy Hall, Buttercup trotting along behind.

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

Merry was in his study when Moro was shown in to him. His smile was infectious as he waved the messenger nearer, asking how things were in Bywater, and inquiring after Moro’s family as if he knew them. He broke the seal on the invitation and read through it quickly, his brows knitting in a frown as he saw the names listed as the guests.

Laying the invitation aside, he asked if Moro would join him in a drink to celebrate this wondrous news which he had just delivered. Moro was put quite at ease by Merry’s gracious manner. And just as well, because when the Master of Buckland stood to fetch some wine for the visitor, his height quite astounded him. ‘It’s no wonder he’s called the Magnificent.’ thought Moro, looking up at the very tall figure now offering him a glass of wine.

Moro could not wait to get back to Bywater to tell his brother what he had seen, and after a few pleasantries and a small glass of wine, he excused himself saying he should get back to his own home, and let Master Merry get back to his pursuits.

‘A moment, if you please.’ asked Merry, picking out a half sheet of vellum from his desk drawer. Seating himself at the desk, he dipped his quill in the inkwell and penned an acceptance to the invitation. He placed it in an envelope, addressing it to Mistress Cami Goodchild, and sealed it with wax, impressing it with his ring which bore the Shield of Rohan upon it. Handing Moro a silver penny, he asked that he deliver the acceptance as soon as he returned to Bywater.

Once Moro had been seen off, Merry returned to his desk, his unseeing gaze seemingly glued to the monograph on pipeweed he had been writing, prior to the delivery of the invitation. He shook himself from his reverie and picked up the invitation, reading it slowly once again. He rubbed his eyes, thinking they might be playing tricks on him.

‘Bilbo. And dear Frodo.’ he said quietly into the empty room. Two faces he thought never to see again in his life.

He rose from his chair and strode quickly to the door of the study. ‘Estella!’ he called loudly to his wife. ‘Drop whatever you are doing and come here quickly. There’s a party tomorrow at the Green Dragon Inn. And we’ll be attending.’

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-20-2003, 12:36 AM

Dragoneyes' post

Pippin Took sat at his desk reading a letter from his dear sister Pearl, explaining to him the woes of family life. He smiled to himself as he read about one of the many arguments and fights between her children. Through the wall he could hear water sloshing as his wife, Diamond, prepared a bath for their own son. He was interrupted from his sister's problems by a knock at the door and upon hearing a rather loud sigh from the other room he called through the wall that he'd get it.

He walked into the large hall and to the door, opening it he found a red-faced young hobbit lad who was breathing heavily and looked like he had just run quite a way. Pippin vaguely recognised the face but couldn't put a name to it. The lad handed him a letter addressed to him. Pippin thanked him and he went on his way.

Returning inside he was faced with an oncoming toddler, running fast as he could towards the open door. He was wearing only his trousers as he tried in vain to make a break for freedom. Pippin scooped him up and shut the door behind him. "Faramir Took, where do you think you are going?" he said, tickling the child. Faramir squirmed about and giggled, trying to get away from the tickling fingers. Pippin took him to the bathroom where his mother was ready with a bath. "What was it?" she asked as she relieved Pippin of his burden, "A letter." he replied simply.

Diamond finished undressing Faramir an gently lowered him into the bath while Pippin opened up the letter. He read over the first few sentences, then stopped when he got to Frodo's and Bilbo's names. It couldn't be the same two could it? They had sailed west, surely you weren't meant to come back once you had gone. His confusion and shock must've shown on his face because Diamond paused in her bathing of Faramir asked him what was wrong. "Nothing's wrong," he answered, his face clearing, "But there is something happening at the Green Dragon tomorrow: a party, with some old friends, and we've been invited."

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

Child's post

For the remainder of that day, and well into the next, Cami kept busy with all the little things that needed to be done before the arrival of their guests. She worked alongside Ruby and Prim and Hob airing out the bedchambers, rearranging tables in the central hall, and preparing all the dishes they'd agreed to serve their friends.

With tables full of hobbits, and so many little ones, there would have to be a plentiful supply of food--vegetables, fruits, and several choices of meat and fish--to say nothing of pies and trifles and puddings, and a varied assortment of ales and wine. Cami kept Hob busy all day making the rounds to the grocer and butcher and baker. Within the Inn itself, the kitchen bell tinkled again and again, as hobbits came by to drop off deliveries.

Cami was happy to work since it kept her mind off of other things. Once or twice, she soundly berated herself. What's wrong with you, Cami Goodchild? Why can't you be a normal hobbit? You're going to see Bilbo after such a long time, plus lots of dear friends, yet you're still moping."

Hobbits are generally known for being cheerful and uncomplaining, but that was a trick Cami had never learned. Questions and worries slipped silently into her mind. She had kept her ears open when serving meals in the Inn, and had learned a great deal about some of her childhood friends. Sam was living in the comfort of Bag-end and had earned the respect of the entire community by serving as its mayor. Angelica, who'd gone on to marry and have children of her own, was still said to have a strikingly pretty face.

Cami caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror that stood in the Inn's back hall. She sighed and shook her head. Her face was not extraordinary, and she was dressed in an old frock that had been darned and stitched and darned again. Her home was a tiny burrow with a dirt floor and a single window through which cold winds blew in winter time, since it lacked a protective pane of glass. Perhaps worst of all in the eyes of many, she had no husband to share her life.

She lifted up her hands and peered down at them. They were rough and calloused from hard work, from all the times she'd gathered firewood or skinned rabbits or gutted fish, the kind of things she struggled with daily to eek out a living for her family.

She could probably ignore the judgment of the others, but what about Bilbo? How disappointed in her he would be. She hadn't done any of the things she'd promised him when she was younger. There were no learned tomes or libraries or classrooms....only little hobbit children learning their letters at kitchen tables.

She found it hard to measure her own experiences by the respectable standards of the Shire with which she'd grown up. It was not that she thought of herself as a failure. She just didn't know the right words that could explain to others why her own life was special.

With a sudden pang of homesickness, she recalled the arching canopy of Greenwood where birds and animals roamed free, and the rustling branches that seemed to reach out forever to the stars. She heard the ancient songs and tales recited by Elves beside glimmering campfires deep within the woods. And, most of all, she felt the wisdom in the sad grey eyes of a First Age hobbit who was no longer with her, but whom she would love to the end of her days.

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

02-20-2003, 05:16 AM

Pio was up early the day of the party, awakened by the sounds of thumping, and bumping and hammering. She threw on her clothes and looked out the door of her rooms, into the Common Room. It was a beehive of activity. And there, in the midst of it all was Cami, the queen bee, herself. She had organized both the Inn staff and the regular patrons into work brigades. And all were busy finishing their appointed tasks – rearranging tables, tacking up decorations, and just generally giving the Inn a thorough cleaning and freshening.

She frowned, looking closely at Cami’s face. Perhaps it was just the strain of having so much work to get done before this evening, but she looked uneasy, and even a little sad. There was no time now to speak with her about what troubled her; there was still too much to be done before the guests arrived. If there were time later, she would seek out Cami and sound her out about what was troubling her. Until then, she gave her friend a little nudge. It will be alright, Cami. I will be here. Let me help you.

Stepping into the bustle of activity, Pio grabbed a broom and feather duster, and began to lend a hand. She worked sided by side with Primrose Bolger, ‘Prim’ for short, one of the servers in the Inn. During a brief break, she invited Prim out to the front porch of the Inn for a breath of fresh air, saying she had something she wished to ask her.

Leaning against the railing, Pio let the cool breeze riffle through her hair. Prim sat on one of the crates of wine delivered but not yet stored that were piled by the door. She had removed the kerchief from her head and sat mopping her brow with it. Pio turned and spoke to the Hobbit. ‘I have a proposition to make you.’ Prim looked up at her, and raised her eyebrows. She had ceased to be amazed by the directness of the Elf, having worked with her for some time now.

‘I will need some one to replace me soon. Tomorrow, if I had my choice about it.’ ‘Replace you?’ asked Prim. Pio smiled, realizing she had once again been unclear. ‘As Innkeeper.’ She sat down next to the Hobbit. ‘Once the babies are born, Mithadan and I will be heading south to Minas Anor. And Cami, too, will be moving on, I think.’ She looked Primrose directly in the eyes, assessing her one more time. ‘I have thought about it for some time, and I think with your personality and good head for business you would fit in nicely as the Green Dragon’s new Innkeeper. What do you think?’

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

arelendil

02-20-2003, 06:33 AM

Primrose gasped and tucked curls of dark hair behind her ears in a most business like manner. Her dress of pale yellow wasn't as clean as it had been that morning what with all the cleaning, but her eyes, of deep blue, remained as bright as ever.

"Well," began Prim, thinking over all the things she'd be taking on as Inn Keeper. "I'm sure there are others more suited to the job, but if you think I could, I'd sure like to have a go."

Prim blushed and played with the forest green sash about her waist. The gentle wind was cool and refreshing. It lifted Prim's spirit, and brought a rosy glow to her fair skin. She turned to Pio and smiled.

"Yes. If you think I'm the person for the job."

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

piosenniel

02-20-2003, 03:04 PM

‘Ah! You cannot know what a relief it is that I can leave the Green Dragon in such capable hands.’ Pio grinned at Prim, thinking of how some of Prim’s young male admirers would react to her new status. It was one thing to flirt with the server when you were a little tipsy and were needing to go home, and another to face the Innkeeper. She had no doubt in her mind, though, that Prim would handle it well – a firm hand and a good sense of humor would see her through.

Prim had been a server at the Inn long before Pio had gotten there and the job of Innkeeper fallen into her lap. It was Prim who had taken Mistress Piosenniel in hand and shown her the ropes for the Green Dragon. Pio, other than enjoying the hospitality and drinks of many inns, had never had a hand in the running of one. It was a time consuming business, she had found, and it was fully to Prim’s credit that the Inn was running as well as it did now.

Pio stood up from the carton she was sitting on. ‘I’m going in, to tell Cami that you will be taking over my duties. I am sure she has a long list of necessary “things to be done” for you.’ Pio smiled inwardly, glad not to have to be working her way through such a list today.

She found Cami, busy directing one gang of workers on where the tables should be set for the food and drinks, and another, of the kitchen workers, on how the tables should be set, the food presented, the drinks made available, the bouquets and candles placed . . . and a host of other detailed instructions. Waiting until the instructions had been given and gone over, and the workers had gone back to their assigned tasks, Pio approached the Hobbit, who stood in the middle of the room surveying her handiwork. There seemed a wistful look in her eye, soon displaced, though, with a calculating one as she called out to one of the kitchen staff to drape the tablecloths just a little lower to the floor.

Cami was not surpised that Pio had chosen Prim. ‘A hard worker, and smart. I like how she jumps right in to tackle any situation that comes up. The Inn will be in good hands when we have to leave.’ Pio placed her arm round her friend’s shoulders. ‘I wish that would not ever happen, Cami. I would steal you away and take you with me to Minas Anor and the Star if I could.’

The two women looked at one another, and burst out in laughter. ‘And what would Mithadan say about that, Pio?’ said Cami, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes. Pio grinned at her, an impish gleam in her eye, and intoned in a serious and solemn voice, ‘Cami’s appointed task does not lie with us, Piosenniel. You should not hinder her.’ She bent down and gave her friend a quick hug. ‘Still I would, if I could figure out some way to do it without bending the rules too much.’

She stepped back, a look of resignation on her face. ‘But I do not see how that is possible. So, instead, let me enjoy my time with you.’ She looked about the Inn, at the near completion of the party preparations. ‘What can I do for you, to ease your burden today?’ she asked, sincerely hoping it included something in the kitchen, to be done sitting comfortably at the table there, a cool glass of sweet spice tea in her hand.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Mithadan

02-20-2003, 03:45 PM

Mithadan had crossed the Greyflood at Tharbad more than ten days before, but was yet to reach Sarn Ford. After a pleasant enough night in the Inn at Tharbad, he had run into trouble just a few miles further along the road. Three men on horseback had approached the road from the east, and upon spying him, had spurred their horses to a run and drawn swords.

He had led them on a merry chase along the road until it reached a cutting in a small hill. Catching a glimpse of more men on the hill, he turned off the path to the southwest, crashing trough some light brush before entering a pine forest. The branches had torn rents in his cloak and scratched his face until his steed's hoofbeats became muffled on the needle-strewn ground beneath the pines.

He kept his horse at a fast trot as they dodged between treetrunks, then turned to the west as his the sound of his pursuit faded behind him. Not trusting to luck, he continued riding long into the night before he turned back to the north and searched for a place to rest.

When he resumed his journey the next morning, his surroundings were covered with thick underbrush causing him to make frequent detours, usually towards the west. Then the underbrush gave way to a boggy area which turned him again to the southwest. Although he turned north at the earliest opportunity, he never did find the road, instead coming upon the banks of the Baranduin. He followed the river north and east, and as night fell on his eleventh day out from Tharbad, he at last caught a glimpse from a hilltop of the road as it wound toward the Ford.

He washed as best he could in the shallows of the river. The cold water stung the cuts and scratches on his face as he scrubbed at his cheeks and the beard which had grown during the past several days. He looked down ruefully at his roadworn and torn clothing and scratched at the itch caused by the beard. He laughed quietly for a moment. I must look quite the rascal, he thought. Then he grew more serious. Between the bandits and other delays of the road, he was nearly five days behind schedule. He should have reached Hobbiton by now, but, if he were lucky, he would barely reach the borders of the Shire by midday the next day. Hungry and tired, he spread a blanket on the ground and fell into a deep slumber almost immediately.

Child of the 7th Age

02-21-2003, 01:34 AM

Helen's post

Frodo stirred, and stretched, eyes still closed, reaching for the pleasant dream he had been having, trying to recall it before it slipped completely out of his conscious thought. He heard Bilbo snoring nearby, and that made him smile. But something else was bothering him, intruding on his reverie. His nose wrinkled, and he struggled to reconcile the assault on his nose with something he could place.

A stale, musty, dusty odor of... decay.

Decay? His eyes flew open, and he sat up, squinting into the murky darkness. Nothing decayed in the undying lands, nothing but him and Bilbo that is. Hadn't they fallen asleep out of doors in a garden? And here they were in a dark, dusty, musty... where were they?

As he stood, groping, his hands landed on something soft, and a snort answered him. "Eh? What's that? Who's there?"

"I'm sorry, " Frodo apologised, "I didn't know you were there. Forgive me. And Hello. My name is Frodo Baggins, but I'm afraid I don't know why I am here, or quite where here is."

"Of course you don't, " said the stranger. "Dreams are like that."

Frodo wished there was enough light to see the stranger's face, because he couldn't tell whether that last was spoken in jest or not. "Well, " he said, "I'm afraid I haven't any breakfast to offer you, nor do I know where you can refresh yourself after your night's sleep. I'm sorry to be such a poor host."

He began exploring the room with his hands, tracing the outer wall. "Ah. Perhaps this is a shutter-- over a window. Yes, I think--" He couldn't open it but he squinted through a small crack. "It's daylight outside. Perhaps someone will hear us if we make some noise. I wish I knew whether or not we want to be found."

"Oh, it's all right," said the stranger, with a yawn and a luxuriating stretch. "You don't have to worry about that. Aren't you eager to see your friends? "

Frodo blinked in the shuttered darkness. "My friends-- why-- ah. Bilbo's scheme to help Cami. We're there? In Eriador?"

"In the Shire," nodded the stranger. "I thought you expected to wake up there. You knew of Bilbo's plans, did you not?"

"Well, yes, of course I did," said Frodo with a touch of annoyance, "It's just--"

"Hmmm?"

"I guess I just naturally assumed that I would wake up in my old bed at Bag End, " he said, embarassed and slightly testy about it.

"Hmmm. Now that, " pondered the stranger, " would have given Mayor Gamgee rather a start."

Their outburst of laughter woke Bilbo.

Frodo brought Bilbo up to date on what he knew, which did not take long. Frodo then found a door, but could not open it.

"My, my, little halflings. You aren't used to dreams yet, are you?" said the stranger, and casually walked through the door.

Frodo and Bilbo gaped. Frodo thought it over, and said, "He has mentioned dreams more than once. I wonder." Tentatively, Frodo approached the door, telling himself that in dreams many things are possible. Bilbo watched expectantly, and made ready to follow Frodo. But Frodo clunked against the door. It was quite solid. He and Bilbo exchanged rather disspirited glances; it had sounded intriguing to walk through doors. "Why could that fellow--" Frodo began.

"You're neglecting your osanwe, " Bilbo scolded him.

With a wry face, Frodo reached out in thought. "Ah. Irmo... Lorien. A Vala in disguise." Frodo smiled. " And he's thoroughly enjoying exploring with his new body."

"Well, " Bilbo said, groaning a little as he stood (Frodo hurried forward to take his arm), "He may enjoy exploring, but right now I'd enjoy some tea, and a change to refresh myself. This room is stuffy. Moldy."

"Well, back to brute force and ignorance then," said Frodo, and with an ironic laugh, began to bang on the door with his fist.

Child's post

Still laughing at the image of Mithadan that Pio's words brought to mind, Cami sat down at the table in the kitchen, glad to take a moment to put up her aching feet and sip a cool drink. Sweet tea? Perhaps that was fine for Pio in the state she was in, but Cami thought she could definitely use something stronger.

She slipped out to the bar and retrieved a bottle of dry red wine, which had been sent north in a shipment from Gondor, carrying it back into the kitchen. Then she took out a rather large glass and filled it close to the brim. Pio gazed at her and raised one eyebrow in surprise. The hobbit shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Cami grumbled. "Sometimes, I swear you could read my mind." As her words came tumbling out, Cami glanced over to Pio with a laugh and said in a quizzical tone, "But then, that may be exactly what you're doing."

"Cami, your feelings are written on your face. There's no need for me to search deeper. Still, if there's anything, you'd like to add...."

The hobbit wriggled in her seat and sighed, not sure where to begin. "All these years, in Minas Anor and on the Star and even on Meneltarma, I kept believing the Shire was my home. I thought I could come back here without any trouble or interruption, just take up where I'd left off. Now, I'm not so sure. I've changed. Everyone seems to fit in here except me. I'm not even sure what "home" means any more, or if I've got a home at all."

"Where is 'home'? Is it Greenwood, or the Shire, or the Star, or someplace I haven't even been? Maybe Elves are meant to wander, but I've never thought of hobbits like that. To be a hobbit, and not have a home, is a very scary thing."

At that instant, Ruby came running towards them, grabbing onto the Elf's arm, wrenching her up and trying to pull her along behind. "You have to come quick. To the upstairs bedroom, the old one in the attic we never use, the one where the door is stuck fast in the frame so we can't even open it. There's someone inside banging hard to get out. It sounds like three gentlemen, and they seem just a little upset."

Cami glanced nervously at Pio, "You don't suppose?" Without another word, the two women hastily left the kitchen, and sprinted up the old, deserted staircase at the very back of the Inn which was festooned with curtains of silvery cobwebs. Cami wondered how long it had been since anyone had used the old staircase leading to the attic. Probably just as long as I've been away from the Shire. That thought made her smile.

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

02-21-2003, 05:08 AM

‘All my time here, and I had no idea this staircase existed.’ Pio sneezed and coughed, her eyes teary from the years of dust that were layered on the steps, disturbed now and flung into the air as their feet hurried upwards. At the mention of a door being stuck fast, she had grabbed a hammer and cold chisel from the handyman’s chest beneath the bar.

A few more steps brought them to the landing in front of what once must have been the upstairs maids’ bedroom, as the stairs led up a private, narrow staircase near the back of the Inn by which both the second floor guestrooms and the back of the Common Room could be accessed. Cami tried the door handle, and though it turned easily, the door itself would not budge, even though she leaned heavily against it.

Pio stepped forward and wrapped on the door with the head of the chisel. ‘Anyone in there?’ she called. They could hear the sound of several pairs of feet scuffling about on the wooden floor. And two decidedly male Hobbit voices yelled out ‘Yes!’ in unison. ‘Bilbo? Frodo? Is that you?’ asked Cami, barely able to conceal her excitement. ‘Yes, and yes!’ came the unequivocal answers.

‘Stand back, then, away from the arc of the door.’ Pio placed the chisel’s blade between the door and the doorframe, tapping it in with the hammer, forcing the door open, little by little, as she moved up the frame from bottom to top. ‘I thought you said there were three of them coming, Cami.’ she commented as she worked steadily up the frame, her eyes fixed on the slowly widening gap. Cami crouched down beside her, watching the chisel bite into the wood. ‘Well, that’s what I thought from my dream, and Ruby did say there were three gentlemen fussing about behind the door.’

The familiar smell of Longbottom Leaf assailed their noses. And the soft swish of fabric against the floor tickled at the edge of Pio’s hearing. She leaned close to Cami. ‘Someone stands behind us.’ she whispered, leaning close to her friend.

‘Thou hast the right of it, Piosenniel.’ Pio and Cami stood, as one, and turned to face the speaker. He was tall, and cloaked from head to foot in a grey cloak. A long thin pipe sent out a slender stream of smoke from its bowl, the stem of it disappearing into a voluminous hood which hid the man’s face in shadows.

‘And how is it that you know my name.’ she asked.

His slender hands came up from within the folds of his sleeves and pushed back his hood. His hair and beard were silver and his eyes shone blue as the sky, twinkling merrily at the pair of them. ‘You walked once, in my gardens, I think.’

‘As did you. In dreams.’ he said, inclining his head toward the Hobbit. ‘Cami, is it not?’ She nodded and looked inquiringly at Pio.

‘The third visitor, Cami, stands before you. Irmo or Lorien, the Master of dreams and visions.’ The Hobbit stood star struck in the presence of the Vala. Pio nudged her back to reality. ‘Our other two guests are still stuck behind the door. Perhaps we should concentrate on getting them out.’ She picked up the hammer and chisel from where she had laid them on the floor, then smiled and cocked an eyebrow at Lorien.

‘Unless, of course, you would like to lend us a hand.’

He placed his hand against the door and gave it a small shove. It swung open with a groan, and the two Hobbits came stumbling out from the dark, shuttered room, blinking in the light.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-21-2003, 09:50 AM

With Cami's first sight of Bilbo, all else was quickly forgotten. Her own worries dwindled as she gazed at her teacher's frail body and looked into his much loved, familiar eyes.

Despite the tiredness in his face, Bilbo leaned over to her and laughed, "Well, Cami, you might have arranged to meet us at the front door! But if I recall correctly, you always had a penchant for doing things differently than anyone else."

Cami blushed red to the soles of her feet. There was indeed a wealth of truth behind these words, but she would not dwell on this now. "I'm so sorry. But I had no control over the transportation here." Cami wondered if Lorien was the one in charge of that, but she could not ask him, since he seemed to have temporarily disappeared.

She turned back to the hobbits, with a smile of relief. "I'm only glad to see you made it safely here." Cami gave Bilbo a welcoming hug, and extended her hand towards Frodo in greeting.

"But wait, I've forgotten my manners. I want you both to meet a close friend of mine." She placed her hand on Pio's arm and gently guided her forward to stand in front of the two hobbits. "This is Piosenniel the Elf. I met her in Minas Anor, and we sailed together aboard the Star to come to the assistance of some imprisoned hobbits."

Bilbo looked up at her, admiration clearly reflected in his eyes, "Gandalf has told us a good deal about the Star and everything that happened. Pio, Frodo and I owe you a debt, both for how you helped the hobbits, and protected Cami so that she came to no harm."

Before Pio could reply, Bilbo leaned heavily against Frodo's shoulder, and seemed to waiver slightly, as if the strains of the trip and the billowing clouds of dust had finally taken their toll. They made their way back to the steps with some difficulty. Piosenniel and Frodo supported the older hobbit to get him safely down the steep staircase. Cami ran ahead to the two adjoining rooms which had been freshened up for their stay. Pio had even made sure that a fresh change of clothes was hung inside each of the wardrobes for the hobbits.

When they reached the chambers, Frodo looked at Bilbo's slumping figure, concern clearly written over the younger hobbit's face. "Perhaps, you should rest in bed. I'll stay here and keep you company."

"Rest in bed? Pah! It has taken me over thirty years to get back to the Shire. I am certainly not going to spend my time in bed! I intend to feel the good soil of the Shire between my toes." At this, Bilbo vigorously thumped his walking stick against the floor and made a straight line for the door of the room, only to be halted by Frodo.

Cami tugged at Frodo's sleeve. "Perhaps this will help. There's a fine, large garden out back of the Inn. It's a warm, sunny day and we can have lunch served outside. Later tonight, we are planning a small dinner with a few of your friends. So both of you will probably want to relax for now. I'll make sure to keep most of the folk away for the next few hours to give you a chance to rest or talk or take a stroll in private."

Everyone agreed this would be a good plan. Bilbo made Cami promise that she'd take him for a long ride in the pony cart another afternoon so he could see all the sites that he most dearly missed. Then they went back down through the kitchen, since this was the shortest route to the back gardens.

As they walked past the oven and cooking fires, Frodo glanced quietly at the cooks and servers and delivery boys who were scurrying around to get everything ready for the evening. The look of the kitchen, the sweet smells of the food, brought back misty memories of a distant but much loved life and the many parties he and Bilbo had hosted at Bag-end.

So this was what Cami called a "small dinner with a few friends!" There were at least two dozen platters and plates and bowls, all filled to overflowing. If there had been any doubt in his mind that they were actually going to the Shire, it was now swept away with the familiar clutter of utensils and pans and dishes spread out before him. For the first time in over twelve years, Frodo Baggins had come home!

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Mithadan

02-21-2003, 04:15 PM

Lorien followed Bilbo, Frodo and their hosts down the stairs. He waved his hands before his face as dust billowed up from the disused steps. Stifling a sneeze, and blinking his stinging eyes, he paused for a moment. "How quaint," he commented to no one in particular. Then he resumed his descent.

The trek through the kitchen had an odd effect upon him. To his surprise, his stomach growled. Rubbing his belly, he scowled in concern. Then he recalled Olorin's warnings about the shortcomings of a physical body. So when he emerged from the kitchen into the garden, he jogged to catch up with his hosts. He bowed slightly to Piosenniel and Cami. "Begging your pardon, but would luncheon be served anytime soon?"

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

Nurumaiel

02-21-2003, 04:24 PM

Angelica finished combing the last tangle out of her daughter's hair, and then, looking frantically for something suitable for the little girl to wear, pulled open a drawer too hastily, and it, as well as the contents, fell to the ground. "Oh, bother!" she cried, falling to her knees to pick up the mess. "Prisca-baby, go see if your brothers are ready." Prisca trotted out of the room, and Angelica finished cleaning up the mess she had made, finding a little blue dress that would look pretty on her daughter.

Prisca came back into the room and solemnly announced, "Madoc is almost ready, and Fosco is out in the mud making pies. He tried to throw some mud at me but he missed."

"Fosco Muddyfoot…" said Angelica through her clenched teeth. She knew it would do no good to yell to him, but she had to say something or she'd burst. "Prisca, go and tell him to get out of the mud right now and come straight to Mum. Then come back here and I'll help you change."

Angelica hurried into her own bedroom to get ready. That Fosco! He'd probably find some mud puddle on the way there and go to the party all dirty, and everyone would laugh at her so, and say she wasn't a very good mother, and…

The mother took three deep breaths and pulled out the ribbon in her dark hair, letting it fall loose. No, he wouldn't find a mud puddle and no one would laugh at her. If there were any there that had their own children, or were children themselves once, they would certainly understand. Cami would understand, that was certain. Angelica laughed a little as she remembered all the horrible stories Cami had told her about a Proudfoot boy that she'd known when she was a child.

Angelica changed into a blue dress that matched Prisca's, and began to brush her hair, her thoughts wandering to Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. She still didn't understand the piece of Cami's letter about them. Would they actually be at the party? It's a welcome home for them, of course they'll be there. Angelica's heart skipped a beat. What if her dear Uncle Bilbo was in the Shire this very moment? She set down the brush and began to spin around the room, thinking of how wonderful it would be to see him again.

Suddenly there was a long wail, and the sound of the front door slamming. Angelica stopped dead in her tracks and turned pale. That was Prisca! Had something happened to her?

The door to her room was flung open and there stood Prisca, her just-brushed hair tangled and muddy. Tears were rolling down her dirty cheeks, and sobs nearly choked her. "F-Fosco is a big… meanie!" the little girl cried. "I… I… I… told him th-that he had to go t-to you but he said 'no' and then he gr-gra-grabbed me and put mud all over… my… hair!!"

Angelica stared weakly at her daughter, then sat down and burst into tears. "Merimac!" she wailed. Her husband came hurrying in and looked from her to Prisca. Then he turned and left the room, going outside. He knew what had happened.

When he finished dealing with Fosco and sent him in to get ready, he came back to his wife and put his arm around her. "There, there, Angelica, don't cry," he said comfortingly, but she could not be consoled.

"We might as well just stay home now," she sobbed. "We'll never be ready in time, and no matter how fast we go we'll be late. Fosco and Prisca aren't even close to being ready. Look at her! I have to wash her hair now and I just finished brushing it and Fosco went and put mud in it again!"

"Don't be worrying now," said Merimac, standing up. "And don't be crying. You're making your eyes red, love."

Angelica gasped and her hand flew to her eyes, then she looked up at Merimac with a little laugh. "Merimac, I'm through with being vain," she said.

"Apparently not yet." He winked at Prisca, who had no idea what he was winking about, and left the rooom.

Angelica sighed and took Prisca's hand. Well, it wouldn't matter too much if they were late, and at least she was seeing all her old friends again. "I just have to look on the bright side of things," she said to herself, as she once again washed the mud out of her vain little daughter's hair.

Child of the 7th Age

02-21-2003, 05:20 PM

Cami scratched her head and gave Lorien a startled look. She was uncertain how to proceed. Surely their simple food and drink would not find favor with this visitor from afar, although he did seem quite different from Ulmo, the only other Vala she'd ever met.

It was Bilbo who was first to recover his wits and extend an offer of typical hobbit courtesy, "Please, join us. You must. We have plenty of food. There is enough here to feed an army." Frodo went to fetch a chair and pushed it near the picnic table, indicating Lorien should sit down.

Since their visitor still looked uncertain, Bilbo began listing off the delicacies on the table which the Vala could choose to sample. "This is all good hobbit fare. We have steak and kidney pie, bangers and mash, meat pasties, and a stew of coneys. Plenty to select from. And here's a flagon of ale to wash it down."

Piosenniel smiled to watch Bilbo fall into the role of gracious host so easily. Wanting to please his guest, Bilbo turned toward the side table where a number of pitchers and bottles were set, searching for something special that would be sure to please. "Oh, look what's here. One of my favorites. Something we all might enjoy." He held up a glass container from which the delicious and powerful scent of honeyed mead arose, and began to pour everyone a generous cup.

piosenniel

02-22-2003, 04:09 AM

It was true; Piosenniel had smiled when first Bilbo took up his duties as gracious host. But now a niggling suspicion was growing in the back of her mind, that perhaps he should be a little less obliging. The party was only three hours away, and an inkling of trouble tickled at the corners of her mind. What was to have been a small lunch had somehow extended itself for several hours into a long discussion of Shire history, punctuated by toasts to the local heroes of note. And it was a long, long list for Bilbo had a long memory.

Pio watched from the kitchen doorway, her eyebrows raised, as mugs were filled again for a toast to those most excellent of Fallohides, the brothers, Marcho and Blanco, who founded the Shire in the mid Third Age. She motioned for Cami, who was bustling about the kitchen giving last minute instructions to the cooks and servers, to come near.

‘Best you keep a close eye on them.’ she warned Cami, with a nod of her head toward the party in the garden. ‘I have to get dressed and get the pony hitched to the cart. I promised Amaranthas I would be there promptly at five, and it’s going on four now.’

Pio ran to her rooms and pulled from her closet a long silken dress with trailing sleeves. One of the surprises she had found packed in her trunk by Idril when she had reached Minas Anor. Just a parting reminder from her to act a little more Elf-like. It would certainly do for the party tonight. Deep azure, like the waters off Tol Meneltarma, with a lighter blue sheer overdress shot with silvered threads. She pulled it over her head, and straightened the flow of it round her, then rustled about beneath her bed for her soft, low cut blue leather shoes. A few swipes at her hair with the brush, the silver fillet in place above her brow, and she was ready.

She dared a glance in the looking glass, turning this way and that to get the full effect. ‘Great Stars!’ she said laughing. ‘I look like a tidal wave on two legs!’

Remembering to pick up her dress as she raced down the stairs, Pio waved good-bye to Cami, and ran to the stables. Hob was just finishing harnessing the pony to the cart as she arrived. ‘Thank you!’ she called to him, pleased not to have to do the job herself. He turned to tell her it had been no problem, and her presence took his breath away.

He blushed and stammered out, ‘Mistress Piosenniel, you’re, you’re . . . well . . . beautiful!

Taking the reins from him, she smiled and kissed him on the cheek, leaving him staring, open-mouthed in the stable yard as she drove off. ‘Must be the dress.’ she thought to herself, as she flicked the reins lightly on the pony’s back.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Nuranar

02-22-2003, 08:27 AM

Post for Miz Rose by Pio

Rose was not feeling well today. She had gotten up from bed still tired, having spent most of the night trying to find a comfortable position to lie in. There were smudges under her eyes from lack of sleep and her face was pale. She had pretended to be asleep when Sam checked on her. Today was a day he was very much looking forward to and she meant not to worry him into staying home with her.

Once he had dressed and left the room, she rose and pulled on her clothes, then brushed her hair. A quick look in the looking glass revealed her pallid features and she bit her lips and pinched her cheeks to bring some color to them.

The first order of business for the day would be getting her hungry horde fed. As she walked down the hall to the kitchen, she saw that both Frodo-lad and Elanor were awake and up already. She called to them to come to the kitchen with her, she had something important to speak to them about.

‘I’m going to need your help today, Elanor and Frodo.’ she said as they came to sit at the kitchen table with her. ‘Today is a very important day for your father, and I want it to go smoothly for him.’ She rubbed her side, feeling a mild twinge take hold of her. ‘The baby kept me awake all night, and I am very tired. I don’t have the energy to do all of what needs to be done, so I am going to ask each of you to help.’ Both of them looked at her with solemn faces and nodded their assent.

‘Elanor, I want you to take charge of Rose, Goldilocks, and Hamfast. In fact, now that I think on it, Rose is old enough to help out. You can let her take Goldilocks in hand. And Frodo, you’ll need to see to Merry and Pippin. Everyone needs a good scrubbing, and I want them dressed later in their best outfits with their hair brushed, ready to go by six p.m. this evening. Give them a little snack just before we leave, so they won’t be too hungry while we wait for the dinner to begin. And make sure you pack along a few of their toys to keep them entertained.’
they both said 'yes' that they could do this. She looked at both of them, smiling, and patted them each on the cheek. ‘I am so lucky to have a son and daughter like you two!’

They both jumped up and gave her a big hug, saying not to worry they would take care of the little ones for her. She made to get up to start breakfast, but they protested, telling her to sit and be comfortable, they could do it. Elanor scrambled the eggs and made toast, while Frodo set the table and put out the butter and pots of thick, sweet strawberry jam.

He made tea from water Elanor had set boiling in the kettle, and brought his Mother a steaming, fragrant cup of it, along with the honey jar. She sat leaning back in her chair, feet up on the seat of the one next to her. Sipping on her tea, she sincerely hoped that she could make it through the party.

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

ArwenBaggins

02-22-2003, 09:22 AM

Elanor pulled Frodo aside, making a few sandwiches to keep her mother from getting upset at them. "Did you here that Frodo? Momma said the baby kept her awake! Maybe it’s coming soon!" Elanor’s face lit up, but she heard her mother make a noise. She backed away from Frodo, putting the sandwiches in a pile.

A sleepy little Rosie came down the hall, into the kitchen. "Rosie. Go and get the other’s, and tell them to come here. We have to take care of them today." Rosie nodded, running to their rooms.

Six soon approached, and Frodo and Elanor were hurriedly dressing their siblings. Rosie struggled to comb her hair, while combing Goldilock’s. Elanor pulled on a bright blue dress, with lace on the bottom. Her mother had made it for her.

When it was time to go, the Gamgee children were standing respectively by age at door. Miz Rose stood, proud to see her children, well groomed and well behaved.

[ February 25, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-22-2003, 10:37 AM

As Piosenniel had suggested, Cami slipped out to the garden to check on Bilbo and the others who were gathered around the table enjoying a leisurely lunch. She wasn't quite sure how it happened, but she soon found herself seated between Bilbo and Lorien, laughing and enjoying the companionship of friends.

Lorien seemed much less intimidating to Cami than when she'd first met him. He had helped himself to generous portions of several dishes, and refilled his flagon with honeyed mead any number of times, while joining in the toasts and listening spellbound to Bilbo's recital of hobbit deeds.

It was some time later before Cami remembered what Piosenniel had originally asked her to do. She tugged urgently at Frodo's sleeve and whispered, "The party will start in just a few hours. Perhaps, you'd like to retire to your chamber to take a brief rest and change clothes. We may be up late."

Frodo nodded in agreement, and this time Bilbo did not object. Lorien said his goodbyes to the pair, and followed Ruby who had come out to the garden to show him to his chamber. Bilbo went over to retrieve his cane, then smiled at Cami and added, "I expect you'll need a minute to get ready and put on your party dress. We'll meet again later this evening."

Cami shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I'll certainly see you later. But I'll be too busy to worry about a party dress. I should have been working this afternoon instead of sitting at this table and enjoying myself, so I'll need to get busy now. Anyways, I'll just tie an apron over my skirt, and that will be fine. I expect to be helping the servers for most of the evening, and fancy clothes would only get in the way." Then she scurried away in the direction of the kitchen.

Bilbo leaned over to Frodo and whispered something in his ear. The two nodded their head in agreement, and went inside searching for Piosenniel. When the Innkeeper noticed them looking about the corridors, she inquired if she could help and went on to explain that Pio had gone out with the pony cart to fetch someone for the party and was not expected to return for some time.

Bilbo fixed an eye on Frodo. "Piosenniel isn't here. That leaves things up to us. Cami came here the same way we did. All she has are the clothes on her back. I expect Pio has found her an extra skirt or blouse to wear when she's helping in the Inn. I doubt the women have had time to think about party clothes, with all the preparations they've been doing in the past few days. And it's not only the party I'm thinking about..." Bilbo's words trailed off, leaving his thoughts unfinished.

"But what can we do?" Frodo queried. "We haven't any money with us, or anything we could barter."

"Perhaps not, but I suspect there are a few things of ours still lying around in odd corners of the Shire."

Frodo's eyes widened as the meaning of Bilbo's words sank in. "The wardrobe?"

Bilbo nodded, "Yes, I expect it's still there even after all these years. Now, let's get to work. Could you get me some vellum and a pen from the common room? Then see if you can hire a messenger willing to ride to Hobbiton and back as quickly as possible. I don't expect that Pio will object if we charge that expense to our Inn bill." Bilbo smiled at that, since neither he nor Frodo had even a single penny to pay for their accomodations or meals, but were relying on the generosity of their hosts.

By the time Frodo returned with the supplies, Bilbo was already seated at one of the tables and was already composing the two notes in his head.

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Carrûn

02-22-2003, 12:40 PM

Frodo-lad tossed and turned as he attempted to catch a few more moments of sleep before his day began; what it might hold he had no idea, but he had seen his first elf and now believed that anything was possible.

Finally he gave up and swung his small but sturdy legs over the side of his bed and, sliding on a pair of slippers crept quietly towards the kitchen. On the way he noticed his father sitting quietly in his study reading over a piece of paper, a letter perhaps - yes that must be it. Arriving in the kitchen he cut himself a slice of cheese, hopefuly small enough that it would not be noticed missing but large enough to make his trip worth his while. Sliding back to his room he attempted again to turn his attention to his letters. He got dressed quickly, but was sure that if his family really was going to a party his mother would undoubtedly re-dress him at least once. Or twice.

He was pleasently surprised when his mother instructed him that he would be responsible for helping to get his younger brothers ready for the party. In fact, he even voluenteered along with his sister to get breakfast ready. The thought that getting his siblings to cooperate smoothly might be difficult hadn't quite sunk in. For now, this was looking like it was going to be a fine day.

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

Orual

02-22-2003, 01:42 PM

It was early morning, and all the children were still asleep. After making sure that Rose was okay--even after eight children, Sam was still a bit anxious when his wife was expecting--Sam went back into the study to finish up some work. That was his alibi, at least. He was really trying to get some quiet time in which to think.

The beginnings of sunrise shone in from the little round window above his desk, illuminating the room with its quiet, glowing light. He slid the letter from Cami in front of him again, and looked for a long while at Frodo's name. He'd practically memorized the letter already, but kept re-reading it. Over and over again. It wasn't that he didn't believe it, he did. And yet, he couldn't keep himself from making perfectly sure that he'd read it correctly, that it really said what he thought it did.

Eventually he got to doing some work, but it was half-hearted and after a while began to show that he was preoccupied, so he put it down. It was nothing important, anyway, and certainly nothing that would be hurt by a day's wait.

Finally his family woke, and the day began. But for Sam, the day was simply a preamble to what was coming. And he'd never have to re-read the letter again.

[ February 23, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

Rose Cotton

02-22-2003, 03:39 PM

As Rosie went about her business through the morning and afternoon, she could hardly contain her excitement. She couldn't wait to see Pio again. Rosie was quite excited to meet an Elf and still had so many questions for her. Plus Bilbo and Frodo would be there. It was if they were fairytale heroes popping out of the pages of her book.

As if this wasn't enough, when Elanor came in to tell her to get ready, she had said mother wanted Rosie to help out with the younger children too. Rosie felt so proud. That had never happened before. She wondered what other suprises the day would bring, and could hardly wait for the party to start.

[ February 26, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

02-22-2003, 10:16 PM

The breeze blew in at the window, and Frodo breathed it deeply, and thought ironically of the decay and dust and mustiness of the room he had woken up in. How different than what he had expected! Sam never let Bag End get musty; he always kept it clean, either fresh and breezy, airy, invigorating; or, cozy, warm, and dry from steadily burning wood-fires. And always swept and tidy. Never musty.

Sam always thought of everything, and always anticipated Frodo's every need. Beloved, loyal Sam.

Frodo's gaze wandered down the road, past The Water and to the Mill, and almost unwillingly, up the winding road to The Hill. There, sparkling and shimmering-- he squinted a little; no; it wasn't sunset yet, it was only shimmering in his imagination-- there at the top of The Hill was his old home. There were the hedges, the gardens, the windows, the steps, the inviting round front door. There, where the Party Tree had once been, stood Sam's magnificent Mallorn. And there within his old home lived his old friend, with his devoted wife and his rascally children. Frodo smiled. He had seen those children in dreams more than once. He knew them all.

Eight children, counting the unborn Daisy. No doubt Sam and Rosie were quite busy.

Would Sam have time for a glassy-eyed refugee from the Elvish West? he wondered, and then chided himself. Of course, his dear old Sam would make the time. And of course they would pick up where they had left off. Wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they? Perhaps not, thought Frodo, his heart sinking as he stood by the window. The years had given Sam broader horizons; as Mayor, The Shire was his Master now, and Frodo reflected that Sam would serve The Shire with every fiber of his being. With a sudden pang, he realised that the loyalty and devotion that had once poured from Sam to Frodo was now spent on a much broader need.

And well it should be, Frodo reflected, hardening himself to the thought. I can't expect Sam to pick up where we left off. It might feel natural to me, but it won't feel natural at all to Sam. He's moved on. He's not my own Sam anymore. He belongs to The Shire, deeply, truly. I must let go and let him serve, and not divide him again. He is meant to be whole, and not torn in two. And if I grasp at him, if I intrude into his life too much, he can't help but be torn again.

"Frodo, " said Bilbo's voice from within the room, "I'm getting a bit dry. How about a refill?" Frodo turned to see Bilbo waving his water-glass in the air.

"Water? Or something else?" Frodo asked, turning from the window, and mustering a warm smile for his uncle.

"Just water, for now, " Bilbo said. "Wouldn't want to deplete the party supplies."

Frodo's eyes sparkled accusingly. "You're saving room in case they open something good and old," he said, and took the glass. "Water it is, then." Frodo tried to shake the sense of loss that he felt no right entertaining as he caught up a pitcher and went looking for the best, coldest water available. He ended up at the well. He tasted the wellwater first. It was icy cold, and sweet, as he suspected it would be; he nodded and filled the pitcher. But as he did, he felt Bag End gazing down at him from the Hill. He finished pouring, and looked up.

An overwhelming desire came over him to use osanwe and probe his old home, to investigate how Bag End had changed, to see it through Sam's eyes, or Rosie's eyes, or one of the children; or-- even more tempting-- to share thoughts with Sam; to see how he had changed, to stir up their old friendship, to remind him of their old bond.

But then he recoiled at the idea, and rebuked himself. Don't be absurd, he thought; let them be. Let him go. Leave them in peace.

Taking the pitcher, he returned to Bilbo.

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

piosenniel

02-23-2003, 02:11 AM

Just an hour now, and Miz Pio would be here to fetch her to the party! Amaranthas washed up a bit and ran the brush through her thin, grey curls. Then put on her dress, fumbling with stiff fingers at the buttons, and smoothed out the wrinkles with her hands. Placing the string of amber beads around her neck, she admired herself in the mirror for a few moments.

If she squinted, just a little, she could still see that young girl who had loved to dance at the Midyear’s Day parties by the silvered light of moon and the soft gold light of the candle-lit lanterns.

Only a half hour until Miz Pio arrived! She sat down in her chair by the window, her gaze fixed firmly in the direction she would come from. Her cane tapped on the floor, in a lively manner, the aches in her hips quite forgotten. Her eyes gleamed merrily.

Perhaps there would be dancing tonight.

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

It was a leisurely trip to Amaranthas’ house. A pleasant cusp of evening with a light breeze. She let the pony pick his way down the roadway at his own pace, the clop-clop of his hooves against the hardened ground lulling her thoughts.

Pio let her mind quest out, seeking Mithadan. He was somewhere near the borders of the southern Shire, but she could not tell if he had crossed into it as yet, or lingered just beyond. He was very tired, though, she could tell.

Just two more days, beloved. Then you can rest in my arms. She put her hand on her belly, as if to make a stronger link, and let his children’s lively spirits reach out for him, call to him.

Her mind caught another familiar pattern not too far from Mithadan. Bird! Now just half a day’s journey behind him, at rest in a sheltering tree for the evening. Bird, we’ll see you soon then. She sent her the picture of a sleeping Mithadan. You are only a short distance from him. Ride in together, my friend. I cannot wait to see you. Pio chuckled as she felt Bird’s surprised squawk at having her thoughts disturbed.

Her eye caught the green of Amaranthas’ door as the cart came to the rise of the hill above it. A few moments and they were at the house, itself. Amaranthas was at the door, waving to her. A small black beaded bag on her arm, and a lacy black fringed shawl about her shoulders. She climbed on board the cart with Pio’s assistance, and off they went.

Two finely dressed ladies on their way to a party . .

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Birdland

02-23-2003, 07:27 AM

The old Trade Inn at Sarn Ford had changed little since last she had been there, but Birdie certainly had. Since she had received the last “message” from her old friend she had been in flight, heading northwest away from desert lands until she found the broad, flowing Anduin and followed it to the white towers of Minas Anor.

Finding that she had once again missed Mithadan, she left arrangements with his servants for the delivery of her baggage, which was being sent to the city by a trade caravan from the newly opened South Lands. After resting three days, she left the city at dawn, racing the sun through the days as the windswept plains of Rohan passed below her, following the Great West Road. She paused to rest for two days in the hills of Dunharrow, denying the temptation to turn North and visit the vast spread of Fangorn.

But the ruins of Isengard, now guarded and explored by the soldiers of King Eomer, could not be so easily resisted, and Bird had spend some seven days watching the work and listening to the tales of the soldiers as they discovered treasure after treasure (and horror after horror) in Saruman’s folly. Had she been in women’s form, she would have certainly been arrested and detained, but a small black and white crow picking through the ruins did little to arouse the suspicion of the Horse Lords; the grounds were full of scavenging birds, after all.

But Bird was tiring, and her will was being diluted from having remained in the form of a flighty jackdaw for so long. Her travels across the green lands of Enedwaith and Dunland was done in shorter stages, with more stops made as ruins and signs, hidden from those on the ground, caught her eye in mid-flight. (She had even found some ancient smials of the Stoor-Folk) The signs of past civilizations were far more frequent than the marks of current settlements. King Ellesar had brought peace to the lands, but it would be a great many years before people would again fill these hills and valleys. The trip across the empty countries of Middle-earth was a lonely one.

At last she arrived at Sarn Ford as evening fell, and looked down fondly at the smoking chimney pots of the Trade Inn. She looked forward to exchanging gossip and tales with her old friend the Innkeeper, and thought back on the time she had spent there with her friend Holly Stoor (now happily settled with Olo in the Tower Hills) and a certain wise and irascible Grey Wanderer. She smiled in anticipation as she flew down from a towering oak, morphing as she fell, and landed in women’s form at the edge of the woods.

The Trade Inn stills see travelers from many lands, but even so, Bird’s dress was bound to raise a few eyebrows. She cared little though. The red bandanna, holding back her thick, wavy black hair and accenting the gold hoops in her ears she thought very flattering. The matching ballooned pants and soft kid slippers were comfortable and suitable for traveling, and the embroidered white blouse with the tight fitting black vest showed off her small but still pleasing shape. All in all, she thought she cut quite a dashing figure, and believed that the dress of the people of Harad was far more sensible and comfortable than the weighty leathers and iron of the Northlands. Gold, which “had no country”, would go far to dispel any questions about her choice of costume. She jiggled the full bag attached to her belt, thankful that there would be no need for trickery to pay for her stay this time.

At that minute, a call from Pio in the Shire wiggled through her brain, setting up an itch at both temples, but easier to bear then when she was sporting her insect antennae. Mith…near…come…hurry…friend

“Alright. I’m coming”, thought Birdie to herself, wondering if her thoughts were reaching out to the impatient Pio, or if she were only “speaking to the winds“. Another day’s flight and she would be in the lands of Suza. But she had no intention of arriving as a bedraggled, wing-sore traveler. She strode eagerly towards the door of the inn, looking forward to good food, a bath, and a soft bed. And of course, gossip “as strange as news from Bree.”

(If you would like to see Birdie's costume, click here (http://www.angelfire.com/biz/harmanist/costum15.gif). Birdie will explain to Pio who the guy on the right is later. smilies/wink.gif )

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

piosenniel

02-23-2003, 01:54 PM

Amaranthas wanted to know just who would be there. She wasn’t one for surprises. ‘Too old for that.’ she said, fixing her eye on a V of birds making their way across the cloudless sky to the west. ‘I’m happy when I know just what’s going on. And when I’m happy, everyone around me is happy.’

‘I can believe that.’ murmured Pio, chuckling at the statement. ‘Speak up, girl. Don’t mumble.’ Amaranthas' bright black eyes turned full on Pio. ‘I said, Miz Amaranthas, that I can list them for you . . . if that is what you would like.’ She grinned at the old Hobbit, knowing she hadn’t fooled her at all.

Pio went through the invitation list she had seen Cami make out, naming all who would be there. ‘You say they’re bringing their husbands and wives and children, eh?’ Amaranthas, her mind sharp as ever, ticked off the spouses who would be coming and named the children, too. ‘Should be a nice sized crowd. Though not too large that you can’t meet everyone and say a few words.’ The Elf looked askance at her. This social side was not one Amaranthas was noted for and she could not wait to see her in action.

They were nearly at the Inn. Amaranthas was busy going through the list of names one last time. She put her hand on Pio’s arm, a perplexed look on her face. ‘Now, I was sure you said there were three special guests coming to the dinner party.’ She ticked of two names on her fingers. ‘Bilbo. And Frodo. But who’s the third one. I didn’t catch his name.’

Pio blanched at this question. She was hoping to just gloss over it, that Amaranthas would not remember she had said there were three of the special guests. ‘His name.’ said Pio, drawing out the two words to stall for time. Amaranthas looked at her as if she had just suddenly become addle-pated.

‘What’s the matter with you, Pio? You’re acting daft. His name, what is it? And once you’ve mastered that answer, how about telling me where he comes from. Is he from a reputable family, or are there some juicy tidbits I need to know about him.’

A sudden fit of coughing came over the Elf at these last two statements. She giggled then broke into a full fledged laugh, thinking of the Fëanturi and the rest of the Valar. ‘I do not know much about him, Amaranthas. Just his name. Lorien, I believe he calls himself. From somewhere way to the west it's said. I believe his family is one of some repute. Though I have heard there has been some behavior on their part which some would call questionable.’

‘Past the Tower Hills, then?’ pursued the tenacious questioner. ‘And this questionable behavior, might I have heard of it?’ Pio took a deep breath, wishing once again that she had never mentioned a third visitor.

‘Far past the Emyn Beraid, Amaranthas, so I have been told. And as to the other, it happened so long ago, I fear no one recalls it. At any rate, look!’ Pio waved her arm toward the Inn, whose path they had just entered. ‘We are nearly to the Green Dragon.’

The cart pulled up near the front porch of the Inn, and Hob came running out. He gave his hand, assisting Pio to alight, then held the pony still as she helped Amaranthas to the ground. The two women went up the step and Pio held the door as Amaranthas entered the Inn.

The wizened Hobbit looked about her, taking in every detail of the room. Her eyes lit on the nice little fire burning merrily in the grate of the great fireplace and she led Pio over to take a seat with her. ‘Fetch us something to take the dust of the road from our throats before you sit down, won’t you dear?’ sending Pio off to find some chilled wine. Her eyes darted about the room, looking for any sign of the three visitors. Pio, with her spare and evasive details, had piqued her interest on that Lorien fellow. Now where was he?

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

mark12_30

02-24-2003, 06:20 AM

Frodo peered carefully out the window, wanting to remain unseen just yet. "Old Amaranthus. My goodness."

Bilbo grunted, raising an eyebrow at his nephew. "Well, you didn't think Cami would leave her out of the party, did you?"

Frodo replied uneasily, "How large is this party going to be? Has she canvassed the Shire looking for guests?"

"Of course she has, " snapped Bilbo, eyes sparkling; "She's a Goodchilde, she's not some illiterate bankdweller from the South Marish. She knows how to make lists." Bilbo waggled his finger at Frodo. "You're my best student, but you're not my only student. "

The dig did not penetrate Frodo; he was staring off into the distance, glassy-eyed. "Then... then Pippin, and Merry--"

"What did you think?" Bilbo snapped again, eyes sparkling.

"I guess I didn't think, " Frodo smiled.

"You've gotten spoiled, dealing with elves, and always reading another's thoughts with osanwe, " Bilbo said softly. "You've stopped thinking ahead, anticipating another's actions. Havent't you?"

Frodo studied Bilbo, and thought back to his long conversations with Finrod, Finarfin, Fingolfin, Gil-Galad, Aegnor. He had become a superb listener during his stay in Tol Eressea; but perhaps other skills had lapsed. "Yes, " he pondered, "you're right, Bilbo. I have; in that sense, I have actually gotten rather lazy." My goodness, he thought. All my old friends will wonder why I am so slow-witted; I wonder whether I will seem dull. And to think I used to be called Jolly Old Frodo. Well, I'm not the life of the party anymore; I knew that.

He sighed, trying not to worry. "I should look forward to this evening," he said softly; "I am healed and well, I thought, and ready to enjoy my old friends. But I wonder whether they will enjoy me."

"Don't worry, " smiled Bilbo. "I am sure they will."

Frodo nodded, but he wasn't so sure.

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Mithadan

02-24-2003, 11:48 AM

Mithadan's horse threaded its way carefully among the rocks and roots along the banks of the Baranduin. Just a bit farther and Sarn Ford would be in sight. He scratched at a welt on the back of his heck. This trip which had begun so well was now evolving into a bit of a nightmare. He had been roused from his sleep by an incessant buzzing only to find a cloud of midges and stinging flies had descended upon him for breakfast. He had leapt fully clothed into the river to await the departure of the villainous insects, then clambered back out, covering his breeches in mud in the process.

Even his horse had sniffed at him distastefully as he mounted. But by now, Mithadan was beyond concerning himself about a bit of dirt. His journey was nearly over and he would soon see his wife. It had been eight months or more since she had ridden off for her 'short' trip to the north -- far too long.

As his horse splashed through the Ford, he looked up at an Inn which stood not far from the west banks of the river. He had intended to ride straight through to The Shire, but he was painfully aware that his food had run out nearly two days earlier. After a brief debate, he decided that a stop for some lunch and a bit of tidying up would do no harm. He rode up to the stables and dismounted, taking his bag from the horse as the stablehand took the reins. The lad's frown at the condition of the rider changed to a smile as Mithadan tossed him two silver pennies. Then he entered the Inn.

The common room was typical as such places go. A great fireplace took up much of the eastern wall. There was a long bar and a number of tables, most unoccupied at this time of day. A barmaid sauntered over, looking at him dubiously. "Good morning, ma'am," said Mithadan in his politest tones. "A beer and whatever you might have for a weary traveller to eat, please." He placed two more silver pennies on the table in an attempt to encourage her frown to abate. As she walked back to the bar, he heard her mutter, "First that odd lady and now this vagabond. This is shaping up to be a fine day."

When she returned with his beer, he inquired about the 'odd lady'. When the barmaid finished her description, Mithadan grinned and asked where she might be found. The server scowled as if doubting what good bringing together two such persons might do, but answered that the lady had not yet come down from her room. Mithadan settled in and waited...

Birdland

02-24-2003, 12:33 PM

The food had been ample, warm, and delicious, the bath hot, steaming and filled with the scents of lavender and camomile. The bed...ahhh, the bed! Crisp sheets smelling of sunshine and herbs, a pillow and mattress stuffed with a veritable flock of goosedown. It was fit for a king, the best room at the Trade Inn, and Birdie had not had to share it with anyone.

When she arose, very late, she put on her freshly laundered and brushed clothes, and came tripping down the stairs, giving a little leap at the bottom and spinning with delight, little caring for the looks from the few drovers and tradesmen who still sat in the common room. The morning (or noon) sun was shining in through the open door of the inn. It looked like a magnificant day for flying, and good friends and the end of her journey awaited her.

The barmaid, who had been up since 5:00, cared little for her enthusiasm. She had vague suspicions about this little woman with the unsuitable dress who had arrived at the inn with no horse or escort. Five years working at the busy Trade Inn had not expanded her horizons, or brain, and she cared little for the "outlandish".

Bird just laughed at her weary scowl, and flipped a silver coin into the air, which the barmaid was deft enough to catch and secret away.

"I'm as hungry as a cat down a well, good Mave. Warm bread and butter, lamb sausage with mint, and three boiled eggs, if you please. Oh, and is it too early for berries? With cream? Hot tea and cold buttermilk. That will do for now. Isn't it a beautiful morning?"

Mave just sniffed, silently wondering how anyone could call the crack of noon "morning", and went to place the order. Bird leaned on her table, spying out the few other patron in the room without making eye contact with anyone. Then the warm breeze from the open window blew in her face, carrying the scent of the decidedly unwashed, dust-covered man shrouded in the shadows at the far corner.

Birdie delicately wrinkled her nose at the smell. She had just washed the dust and odor of the road off of herself, and didn't much care to be reminded of it from this stranger. She wondered if she could possibly changed her table in order to place herself downwind.

Then the figure rose...

Mithadan

02-24-2003, 02:34 PM

Mithadan nearly laughed as Bird pirouetted down the stairs in her outlandish Southron outfit. He watched for a moment as she placed what appeared to be a sizeable breakfast order with the barmaid. She looked about the room and glanced at him with a wrinkled nose and disapproving look. He wiped selfconsciously at his dirty and rumpled shirt then rose and walked toward her.

Seeing him approach, she sat at a table, pulled her chair in and pointedly faced away from him. Mithadan stopped behind her chair and waited for a moment. She did not turn around (though she did fan at the air before her face), so he spoke with a rogueish grin. "Well met, fair maiden," he said. "I understand that you are a fellow traveller making for The Shire. I suppose we could travel together, although I suspect that you might wish to employ a quicker, more direct route...as the crow flies?"

She spun around upon hearing his 'crow' comment. Then recognition dawned upon her and she leapt to her feet. "Mithadan!" she cried, carefully keeping the chair between them. "You look...horrible! What happened?"

"I've had a difficult week of travel," he responded with an embarrassed grin. "And unfortunately, my stomach demanded that I eat before seeking a place to change..."

"And shave and bathe appearently," she interrupted with a grin of her own. "But its good to see you nonetheless. Would you like to...errr, join me?"

Mithadan laughed. "Your ravishing clothes are surpassed only by your politeness. But I'd rather you not gag during your meal. I've just eaten. So, I'll find a place to change and clean up a bit, then I'll join you." He walked over to the barmaid and spoke to her briefly. She pointed down the hall and gestured to the right. Mithadan turned back to Bird and said, "I'll be back."

She watched as he walked away. "Under the circumstances, that might be a threat," she muttered.

--------------------

About an hour later, Mithadan returned. He wore a clean, if rumpled, white shirt and a fresh pair of breeches. He had scraped and rubbed at his boots in an unsuccessful attempt to clean them from the road, and had bathed, though he remained unshaved. Bird rose to meet him and this time they embraced before sitting.

After chatting for a bit about the events of the past months, Mithadan became silent. He frowned and looked up at Bird. "I'm a bit concerned about something," he said. "In her last letter, Pio said that Cami was with her."

"What!" responded Bird. "Are you sure she meant the same Cami?"

"It sounded that way," he answered grimly.

"That's impossible," Bird scoffed. "It must be some quirk of her pregnancy or overwork. Or a mistake more than likely."

"You will arrive before I or so I assume," he said. "Please make sure that she is taking care of herself. I'm a bit worried and I will not arrive in Hobbiton before tomorrow evening at the earliest I would guess."

"I will," promised Bird with a smile. "Its good to see you, Mith. We have much to discuss and puzzle over concerning my trip into the south."

"We'll have plenty of time to talk in Hobbiton," he said. "But for now, I'm eager to be on my way." He rummaged in his bag for a moment, then looked about cautiously before passing over a leather pouch. Bird undid the drawstring and her jaw dropped as she looked inside. "There must be twenty gold pieces in here!" she hissed.

"There's more waiting for you in Gondor," Mithadan responded with a smile. "Between the three ships we sold and the last Numenorean knife, our last voyage was a success from the perspective of trading."

Bird looked in the bag once more, then closed it and sealed the drawstring before passing it back to Mithadan. "Carry it for me, please? I'm travelling...light. Oh, and shave that beard. I can't imagine Pio liking it."

Mithadan laughed. "I lost my shaving kit on the road," he said ruefully. "I've enough cuts and scrapes on my face so that I don't wish to chance using a knife. I'll wait until I reach The Green Dragon. See you in a day or two!" Then he turned and walked out to the stables...

Child of the 7th Age

02-24-2003, 03:26 PM

A small bay pony clattered noisily down the lane that stretched from Bywater to Hobbiton, a distance that spanned no longer than a mile. Its rider, one of the officially attired Shire messengers, brandished an envelope in his outstretched hand as he dismounted from his saddle and raced up to the front entrance of Bag-end.

Pulling down resolutely on the silver bellchain and nervously tapping his toes on the step, the lad waited a moment for someone to appear, then began banging insistently against the door. Please be home, he pleaded. I'd rather not have to face that old fellow again with empty hands.

His persistence was rewarded by the sudden appearance of a sturdy and stout-hearted hobbit, evidently in the prime of his years. The boy doffed his cap out of respect, "Mister Mayor, I beg your pardon, but I'm much oliged to find you here. It's an urgent message from an elderly hobbit, a newcomer to the Shire, who's staying at the Inn. He's a bit hard-headed and demands an immediate reply."

Sam glanced quickly at the handwriting on the envelope and grinned. He could recognize those spidery letters anywhere. Newcomer, indeed! And "hard-headed" to boot. Well, he had to agree with the latter assessment.

He scanned the note and immediately turned, making his way to the second-best bedroom which now served as a guest chamber. A tall, wooden wardrobe had stood there untouched for many long years. Untouched that is, except for the hands of Miz Rose who had made sure that everything was kept tidy and in good repair. There were a number of treasures still hidden in its drawers, but he fished about with his fingers and pulled out just two. One was a well-worn volume on the history of the Brandybucks and, the other, a soft and diaphanous garment of great beauty that looked to be made of green and yellow silk, but which was done in the fashion and style of hobbits from some time ago.

Sam scratched his head, wondering why these two were needed out of all the treasures stored here. The book he could understand. It had been given to Frodo by his mother when he was but a lad, and detailed the geneology of her family, going back for many a year. There was a loving personal message inscribed on the first page. This alone would explain why Frodo might want to bring it with him

But, the dress? Sam couldn't imagine what Bilbo could possibly want with his mother's antique wedding gown. He made sure to tuck in the envelope and note that went with it, a personal and very poignant missive from Belladonna Took to her handsome young son, with hopes expressed that Bilbo's own wife and daughters, or perhaps the wives-to-be of his sons, would one day wear this gown, and pass it down through their family.

Sam looked at it and sighed. A thing of beauty, but it also made him a bit sad. There'd been no bride for Bilbo, nor was Frodo likely to need it, and there were no others in the direct Baggins line. Perhaps Bilbo intended to sell it, although that would be surprising, since the elerly hobbit could be quite sentimental under that witty exterior.

Sam quickly made his way back down the hall, handing the dress and the book gently over to the messenger, before sharing one last word of advice, "I'd like to make a suggestion. Treat that elderly gentleman with respect. He's no newcomer here, but someone from long ago. He's done more for Hobbiton and the Shire than you can even imagine." Then, he tipped the lad generously and asked him to convey his regards to the sender, with the added promise that he would be seeing him very shortly.

Child of the 7th Age

02-25-2003, 02:35 PM

Cami sat slumped over the table that stood before the cooking fires in the kitchen, her head resting awkwardly on top of her folded arms. Some time ago, she had yawned, closed her eyes, then drifted off into a groggy haze, despite the ongoing racket of pots and pans and other hurried preparations for their dinner.

"Cami. Wake up! You've been working too hard. The cooking's done. You have to go and get ready for the party. This is your party, too, and you'll enjoy yourself. I've seated you near Bilbo and Lorien." Pio's voice leapt into her mind, as she struggled through to awareness.

Cami dragged herself up and tried to clear her head to focus on Pio's words, vaguely remembering there was no reason for her to go up to the room to change. But, before she could even protest, the Elf had maneuvered her out of the chair and pushed her down the corridor in the direction of her chamber. Cami came into the room and closed the door, and went over to look out her window at the green fields and poppy-strewn meadows and tiny, snug homes that were so clearly visible from the rear of the Inn. Such a very different picture than what she'd come to expect in Greenwood.

The prosperous and respectable citizens of the Shire would have a hard time recognizing themselves in their struggling ancestors who made up her own hobbit community. There were no chambers filled with fine furniture, no lace doilies, and certainly no clocks, such as this room displayed. Still, if the Shirelings could sit down and speak with those earlier folk, and maintain an open mind, they would have sensed a similarity of values and love of family that lay at the very base of hobbit life. Cami vowed neither to brag or to feel shame at who she was, but to acknowledge the hardships and wild beauty of the forest that were now shaping her life, and to somehow communicate that vision to those she loved best.

The staff of the Inn had drawn a lovely, bubbly tub for her and she gratefully sank down into it, using her fingertips to chase the soap around in circles. She sang softly as she bathed, her spirits rising gamely at the thought of the evening to come:

O' Sweet is the sound of falling rain
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

Sliding out of the bath, Cami dried herself off, then brushed her hair and tried to get her bouncing curls to stay in place.

Then she decided to change her clothes, since her other skirt and blouse would be cleaner, without so many obvious patches or darns. The shadow of evening had already thrown its arms over the Shire, and Cami's room was wrapped in grey so that it was difficult for her to see, as she hadn't bothered to light her lamp. She slipped her hand inside the wardrobe. She was surprised when her fingers touched something soft and gentle hanging on a hook, something very different from what had been there that morning. Curious at her discovery, she pulled the item out and laid it on her bed.

Before she even got a clear glimpse of the dress itself, she caught sight of the envelope with her name carefully written in Bilbo's elegant hand:

Dearest Cami,

A very long time ago, my mother Primula Took wore this gown on the day she was married. I know nothing of dresses, but I am told it is quite pretty. Many years passed and, before she died, my mother instructed me to hold onto it so that my own wife and daughters, and the wives of my sons, would have the honor of wearing it.

Each of us treads a different path in life, one that we can not always foretell. I shall not be needing this dress, nor is my dear Frodo likely to take a bride. My own story will soon be ending, and I would prefer to see merriment in your eyes while I am still here to enjoy it.

Although we have gone in different directions, I always remember you fondly. If I had been privileged to marry and have a daughter, I should have been most happy if she had turned out to be like you, a bit hard-headed but with a kindly heart.

So please humor an old hobbit by wearing this gown to the party tonight, and keeping it near your side for whatever else might come up in the future.

Best regards from your crusty old teacher,

Bilbo Baggins

Cami glanced at the soft gown, with its traditional green and yellow hobbit hues, put her head into her hands, and burst out in tears.

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

piosenniel

02-25-2003, 02:41 PM

Prim, the Innkeeper

The new Innkeeper’s gaze swept the room with satisfaction. Everything was in place for the dinner party. The staff was dressed in clean clothes and sparkling aprons; the tables looked wonderful and inviting – awaiting only the placing of the platters of food on them. There were fresh bouquets of flowers everywhere, sending their subtle scents into the air. The entire Common room gleamed in readiness.

Prim stepped out to the front porch of the Inn and tacked a rather large notice on the door. The Inn would be closed this evening for a private dinner party. But if anyone were thirsty and required a pint before heading home, then would they please step round to the greensward near the stable, Hob Hamfast had been recruited to be provisional outdoor barkeep for the evening for any regulars stopping by. She straightened the notice, tacking it down securely on the bottom as well as the top, and went back into the Common Room.

Guests were starting to arrive for the party. That is, Miz Amaranthas had just swept in the door with Mistress Piosenniel, and seated herself at the small table by the fire, her eyes roving the room for interesting persons to comment on. Prim admired the old Hobbit. Smart as a whip, though her tongue could also sting like one should you happen to rub her the wrong way. Wicked sense of humor! Prim watched her, perched like a little queen on the edge of her chair in her lovely green dress.

Prim had changed into a nice dress, too, for the party, though for the most part, it would be covered by her apron. A deep violet bodice and skirt, with light violet primroses embroidered along the neck and hem. She was glad the guests that Cami had invited were less of the troublesome variety that often came to the Inn. Otherwise she would worry about staining her dress with slopped wine or ale.

She noted that Pio was looking about in the kitchen for something, in the big stone cooler. Chilled wine, one of those bottles from the far east. ‘Here let me help you Miz Pio. I know right where they are. You go sit with your guest and I’ll bring it to the both of you.’ Pio thanked her, and returned to the table with Amaranthas.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-25-2003, 05:08 PM

Amaranthas had moved away from her seat by the fireplace, and taken one closer to the small window near the west end of the Common Room. From there she could peer out the glass to the Inn’s front steps and see who was about to enter. Her sharp eyes made out a small cloud of dust to the east, a fair way down the road. Too large for a single horse, she thought, and too small for a wagon. Must be someone coming in a small pony cart. ‘Now, I wonder who that might be?’ she murmured to herself as she ticked off the list of those invited in her head.

Pio had come to sit with her, followed shortly by Prim with a bottle of Dorwinion wine, the moisture from the chilled container glistening with a fine sheen of condensation. Pio thanked the Innkeeper and asked if there were anything she needed to do to help before the party started. Prim smiled prettily at her, saying, ‘Just sit back and relax, Mistress Piosenniel, the staff and I have everything in hand.’

‘Now that was a good choice on your part.’ said Amaranthas, watching Pio pour them each a crystal goblet full of the dark red wine. ‘Yes, I thought so, too, Miz Amaranthas. My mind will rest easier knowing the Inn will be well taken care of by her.’ They raised their glasses to each other and took a drink, savoring the cool, rich liquid as it sat on their tongues and ran merrily down their throats to pleasantly warm their bellies.

Amaranthas motioned Pio to come round to her side of the table. ‘What can you see with those Elf eyes of yours.’ she asked, pointing to the nearing cloud of dust. Pio shaded her eyes with her hand and looked hard into the distance. ‘A pony cart. Two people sitting in the front. Judging from the speed they should be here in about twenty minutes or so.’

Amaranthas cackled in delight. ‘I knew it! That’s a Bolger for you. Always arrive early and stay late. Don’t want to miss out on any food, drink or the opportunity to gossip.’

‘A Bolger?’ Pio ran the list of invitations through her head quickly and recalled no Bolger. She raised her brows to the Hobbit, awaiting an explanation.

‘Estella Bolger. And that’s her husband with her. That overly tall Hobbit, one of Frodo’s friends.’ Pio shrugged her shoulders waiting for her to go on. ‘You weren’t listening the last time I was telling you about those Bucklanders who live outside the Shire! Queer folk some of them, living in the wilds, next to that forest.’ Seeing the appropriate look of contrition on the Elf’s face, she smiled in satisfaction. ‘Estella married one of those outlanders. Meriadoc Brandybuck, it was.’

Pio leaned back in her chair. So it was Merry and his wife, Estella, who were to be the early arrivals. She looked forward to meeting him. Sipping at her wine, a sudden memory came to her, and she laughed aloud. It was now Amaranthas’ turn to wonder what the explanation for this outburst might be.

‘Amaranthas,’ said Pio, still chuckling, ‘as I recall, you are a Bolger, aren’t you?’ The venerable Hobbit drew herself up straight in her chair, and rapped her cane on the floor once for emphasis. ‘Of course I am, you little ninny!’ she said good-naturedly. ‘That’s how I know them so well!’

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

02-25-2003, 05:26 PM

Merry arrives at the Inn

‘Really, dear, I don’t know why you brought that chapbook with you. This is supposed to be a party, not a get together for dusty old scholars!’ Estella pushed the curls behind her ears into place, and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress where they had gathered as she sat in the pony cart on the long journey from Buckland. She glanced up just in time to see Merry slip not one but two of his little journals into the inner pocket of his coat. Smiling fondly at him, she wondered which pocket he had stowed the small quill and ink set she had gotten him one year as a birthday present.

Meri looked up just in time to see her smile, and grinned guiltily back at her. He had gotten a good start on two treatises of interest to him – Herblore of the Shire and Old Words and Names in the Shire, and was looking forward to talking them over with Pippin. ‘And if it really is true that Bilbo and Frodo are here, then I’d like them to see what I’ve written, too.’ he thought to himself.

He reached under the seat of the pony cart, and brought out a dusty bottle. Old Winyards from the Southfarthing, laid down by Old Rory in 1382 in celebration of his son’s first child, Meriadoc. ‘Now if only Pip has brought some of that pipe weed he’s been studying, we will have us a celebration ourselves of old friends come home at last.’

Estella waited for him at the door, and he opened it graciously for her, ushering her in. It had been quite a while since he’d been to The Green Dragon, and he stopped in the entry way, taking in the familiar interior. A brief look of disappointment crossed his face as he saw they were the first to arrive. Pip was not here yet. And even more disappointing, there was no sign of Bilbo or Frodo in the Common Room. He was beginning to regret he had come. Perhaps this was only an elaborate joke of some sort.

Estella had gone over to greet some one, an older Hobbit, sitting by the window. Merry strode to the bar and asked the server there to keep it safe behind the counter. He ordered a pint, and sipping at it, walked about the room to stretch his legs a bit after the ride.

Joke or not, he intended to enjoy himself while he was here tonight.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

mark12_30

02-25-2003, 09:49 PM

"Does it measure up?"

Merry spun at the soft, familiar voice, and looked hurriedly around the room. There, standing just outside the hallway door-- "Frodo!"

Merry bolted forward, setting his mug down on a table as he passed it, and laughing, reached through the doorway and siezed Frodo by the shoulders, and dragged him forward into the room. "It's true! After all these years! Frodo!" Frodo found himself emgulfed in Merry's powerful arms, and then held again at arms' length by the shoulders. "You're looking well. Quite good. Oh, it's good to see you."

Frodo looked into the sparkling brown eyes and laughing replied, "It's good to see you too, Merry. You're as tall as ever!" And I feel ilke a little rag-doll in your grip, he thought.

"A what? Rag-doll?" Merry replied, and Frodo started; he hadn't meant to let Merry hear that; he had carelessly pressed the thought into Merry's mind. Frodo brushed it aside. "Nothing. You put your half-pint down before you answered me about it," Frodo laughed. "Does it measure up?"

Merry put one arm around Frodo's shoulders, and reached for the mug with the other hand. "Well, you tell me, " he said. Frodo sputtered and swallowed hastily as the mug met his face. Merry laughed, and showed no signs of letting Frodo come up for air; laughing, Frodo had to back up underneath Merry's arm to avoid spilling the last quarter of the mug onto his shirt. "Half a moment! " Frodo spluttered laughing, "I've only just arrived, and you'l have me soused in a half hour at that rate!"

"Well, then, sing! And I'll give you a rest from drinking, " Merry roared, pounding Frodo's back. Frodo's eyes bugged. In the corner Frodo could hear Amaranthus wheezing with laughter, and as Merry caught Frodo in yet another bear-hug, Bilbo's voice rang out behind him.

"Beer's wasted on the lad these days, you might as well give all his beer to me, " admonished Bilbo, coming through the doorway.

Frodo denied this loudly, and was pleased to notice that while Merry was no less enthusiastic about greeting Bilbo, he was far more gentle with him than he had been with Frodo. He refrained from pouring the remainder of his mug down Bilbo's throat, anyway. Bilbo nudged Merry's mug. "Empty? What kind of a host are you?"

"I'm not the host! But all right, you old rascal, I'll bring you a mug! He hasn't changed, " Merry guffawed, and Frodo and Bilbo joined him in a loud, long laugh.

Bilbo beckoned to the innkeeper. "Prim, good evening, you charming young sprite! A mug, Prim, a mug! " he said, nodding enthusiastically. and waving.

"I'm getting you one!" Merry said, turning indignantly, "since you unreasonably demanded I play host!"

"You're not going to leave me with one empty fist?" Bilbo accused him. "Frodo, lad, help me over to see Amaranthus. Miz Amaranthus, now that is a fine, fine dress. Hello, Estella! Good evening, Piosenniel!"

Frodo looked back at Merry, who was charging towards Bilbo with four mugs, two per fist. He handed one to Frodo, and one to Miz Amaranthus, and thrust the other two at Bilbo. "If it's full fists you want, then full fists you'll have, " Merry roared. "Prim! Two glasses of wine for Pio and Estella, and another mug for me!"

Within moments, a loud song had started, with Bilbo and Merry leading the charge, and Amaranthus keeping time with her walking stick (Prim tried not to worry about her denting the floor) while Frodo sang along and Piosenniel and Estella danced a casual jig.

[ February 25, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

piosenniel

02-26-2003, 04:15 AM

Pio’s cheeks were flush from the wine and the dancing. She sat down at the table and watched as the three old friends moved as if in some current out of time. The years fell from their faces and the banked embers of their deep friendship flared up and lit their countenances from within.

Fresh pints were in their fists, and they egged on the singer. Bilbo it was, this time. “Give us something from that time you went out as the thief with all those dwarves and Gandalf.’ cried Merry, leaning forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘That one about them in your kitchen!’

Bilbo stood and shook his head, smiling as he did so. ‘Terrible guests they were.’ He said in a hushed voice, drawing his listeners in. He looked straight at Piosenniel, who had not heard the story before. Her eyes were fixed on him, eager for him to go on. ‘They have a dark sort of humor, Dwarves do. They nearly caused my heart to thump out of my chest when they offered to do the dishes.’

He thumped his tankard on the table in a booming sort of rhythm, his voice taking on the deeper intonations of his long ago Dwarven guests.

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates--

Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!

Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;
Pound them up with a thumping pole;
And when you've finished, if any are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll!

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
So carefully! Carefully with the plates!

Pio laughed delightedly and clapped her hands. ‘But that is wonderful!’ she said, impishly. ‘Just the sort of washing up party I should like to part of!’ Bilbo pretended to scandalized at this declaration by one of the fair folk and raised his bushy eyebrows at her.

‘Here’s one for you, Merry.’ Frodo stood forth and raised his tankard to his old companion. ‘Sam and I were the ones to hear this one. That time when Old Man Willow had grasped you in one of his great cracks and meant to squeeze the life out of you. As I recall, only your feet were sticking out when Tom and we got to you!’ Merry wrapped his arms about himself, recalling the strength and malice of the old tree.

Frodo sang out in a clear, fair voice, with a jolly lilt to it.

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.
Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,
Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,
There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,
Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o,
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?

Amaranthas leaned in close to Pio, tapping her on the foot with her cane. ‘Queer doings in that Old Forest! Didn’t I tell you?’

‘What about you, Master Merry?’ asked Pio. ‘I have heard some fine songs from these two gentle Hobbits. What have you to offer?’

‘I have one, Mistress Piosenniel.’ he said, setting his drink upon the table. ‘But I fear it is more dark a song than these others that you’ve heard.’ His face was grave, and his deep, rich voice sang out the song made not so long ago in Rohan.

We heard of the horns in the hills ringing,
the swords shining in the South-kingdom.
Steeds went striding to the Stoningland
as wind in the morning. War was kindled.
There Théoden fell, Thengling mighty,
to his golden halls and green pastures
in the Northern fields never returning,
high lord of the host. Harding and Guthláf,
Dúnhere and Déorwine, doughty Grimbold,
Herefara and Herubrand, Horn and Fastred,
fought and fell there in a far country:
in the Mounds of Mundburg under mould they lie
with their league-fellows, lords of Gondor.
Neither Hirluin the Fair to the hills by the sea,
nor Forlong the old to the flowering vales
ever, to Arnach, to his own country
returned in triumph; nor the tall bowmen,
Derufin and Duilin, to their dark waters,
meres of Morthond under mountain-shadows.
Death in the morning and at day's ending
lords took and lowly. Long now they sleep
under grass in Gondor by the Great River.
Grey now as tears, gleaming silver,
red then it rolled, roaring water:
foam dyed with blood flamed at sunset;
as beacons mountains burned at evening;
red fell the dew in Rammas Echor.

‘To Théoden King!’ said Merry, raising his mug. ‘To Théoden!’ came the response. ‘To you all.’ murmured Pio softly, raising her glass to them.

A pleasant silence fell upon the group, and glasses and tankards were refilled. Bilbo bowed toward Pio, saying, ‘Surely our fair hostess must have a song for us. Do you not?’

‘I love to sing, Master Bilbo. But I fear I only know the old songs well. The stories long forgotten here in Middle-earth.’ ‘Sing one for us anyway, Miz Pio.’ said Amaranthas. ‘But make it in plain language none of that Elvish, if you please.’

‘Well, then, here is one for Mister Frodo and Mister Bilbo, so lately come from the West.’ It was a plain-song she sang for them, in a fair, strong voice.

East of the Moon, west of the Sun
There stands a lonely hill;
Its feet are in the pale green sea,
Its towers are white and still,
Beyond Taniquetil
In Valinor.

Comes never there but one lone star
That fled before the moon;
And there the Two Trees naked are
That bore Night’s silver bloom,
That bore the globéd fruit of Noon
In Valinor.

There are the shores of Faëry
With their moonlit pebbled strand
Whose foam is silver music
On the opalescent floor
Beyond the great sea-shadows
On the marches of the sand
That stretches on forever
To the dragon-headed door,
The gateway of the Moon,
Beyond Taniquetil
In Valinor.

West of the Sun, east of the Moon
Lies the haven of the star,
The white town of the Wanderer
And the rocks of Eldamar.
There Wingelot is harboured,
While Eärendil looks afar
O’er the darkness of the waters
Between here and Eldamar –
Out, out beyond Taniquetil
In Valinor afar.

The last notes fell away. ‘Too somber, these last two songs!’ she said to Merry. ‘Pick up the tempo and the mood if you would. This is a party, not a wake for dead men and dying dreams.’

‘As you wish, Mistress Piosenniel.’ He turned to the Frodo and Bilbo and hummed a few bars of a livelier song. They grinned at his choice, and joined in –

Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under a tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by . . .

They were on their third round of the verse, even Amaranthas had joined in with a hearty voice, when the door to the Inn opened, and the wind blew in another guest . . .

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-26-2003, 07:10 AM

Cami was still upstairs fidgeting with her dress, trying to get ready as quickly as she could. She could hear the merry sounds and voices and music issuing from the common room, with the front door of the Inn opening and closing as new visitors came inside. But her lovely green and yellow gown had thirty-two tiny buttons, all in a row and neatly centered down the middle of her back. Her arms weren't long enough to get to all of them! Cami fussed and fumed, pulling her gown this way and that, trying to maneuver all thirty-two tiny pearl buttons within the reach of her fingers so that she could finish latching them.

I should have done this earlier and asked Piosenniel for help! By the time I get there, the party will be over. She gently tugged on the material, first up, then down, thinking that a nearby husband or sister would come in mighty handy just now.

Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one....Cami counted as she slipped the tiny buttons inside their hooks. Finally, number thirty-two. She hastily smoothed out the material in her billowing green skirt, and snatched up the flute that she'd bought the other day at the market in anticipation of the party. Then she scampered down the hallway towards the sound of the music, tapping her fingers and crooning a lively song beneath her breath.

[ February 26, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-26-2003, 02:06 PM

As Cami entered the Common Room, she spied a familiar figure coming through the door whom she had not seen in a long while. When she was a tweener, and living in Buckland Hall, Cami had known Fatty Bolgar quite well. She had worked for the Brandybucks some eighteen years and, during much of that time, was the intended of Hob Fields, a kindly lad from Tukborough whom she had promised her mother to wed. Hobb had come from Tukborough to work at the Bolger farm, so that he could be closer to Cami. The distance between Budgeford and Bucklebury was not all that great, and there had been much coming and going between the two households. It was no wonder that Merry had ended up marrying Estella, who was Fatty's sister. Whenever Hob came courting Cami in Buckland, he had generally been accompanied by his friend Fatty, and the three of them had spent countless hours tramping through the woods, enjoying rounds of archery.

Before Cami could collect herself and go up to greet her friend, Merry piped in with a word or two. "Another Bolger? We'll have the Inn overflowing with them if we're not careful." He turned and winked at Fatty.

Amaranthas lifted up her cane and gave the Master of Buckland a hearty poke in the ribs, glaring at him and warning, "Best watch your tongue, Brandybuck, or Estella will be having a word or two with you." Like Amaranthas, Estella was not known for her reticence.

"Now, Amaranthas, I meant no harm," Merry quickly countered. Twas but a jest! I have the best wife in the world, and I'll not be upsetting her. I can promise you that." Merry took Estella's hand and squeezed it tightly to reassure her. For the two hobbits had just gotten married in the past year.

Fatty turned around from Merry and caught his first glimpse of Cami. His eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Cami Goodchild, when I received my invitation, I assumed it was written by a ghost. I can't believe you're really here. How many years has it been?"

"Let's see," Cami mused. I left the Shire in 1403 to move to Buckland, and, after that business with Sharkey, I decided to leave, but it took a while to arrange things. Merry got me a position in Beregond's household two years later. So it's been a good twelve years since you and I met."

"Aye, the battle of Bywater," he whispered solicitously, nodding his head. "That hit more than one family." Fatty remembered that Hob had been one of nineteen hobbits killed that sad day, and Cami had decided to leave quite soon after."

"In any case, I'm glad you're back. You should never have left Buckland or the East Farthing. I know the wander-lust hits some hobbits, but you always seemed too sensible for that. After all, you're not a Took." Cami did not respond, wondering how she could explain to this dear friend that her present life was anything but sensible.

"You know Cami, you look quite lovely tonight. I don't know which is prettier, you or that dress." Fatty hesitated for a minute and then asked, "Not married yet?"

Cami mutely shook her head, thinking she'd best explain that this was only a temporary visit. But before she could respond, Fatty was pushing forward, "You must come see my family in Budgeford. My father and mother are still alive and well. They have always liked you. Plus, you can pay a visit to Merry and Estella at Buckland. What fun we'll have. Just like old times! I'll be happy to drive you about in my pony cart to see all the sights."

"But I can't. I'm working here at the Inn. And I'm helping to take care of my friend Pio."

Fatty looked in the direction where Cami was pointing and saw a tall, graceful, and very pregnant Elf. Unlike Frodo and Sam and his other friends, Fatty was very much a typical stay-at-home hobbit who had never been far from the Shire. He had not even seen an Elf before.

"She's your friend?" Fatty's voice sounded slightly incredulous.

"Yes, indeed, a close friend," Cami reassured him.

"Then, I'll have a talk with her later. Perhaps, she'd like to come too and see the sights of Buckland."

Before she knew what was happening, Fatty had slipped his arm around Cami's shoulder. She found herself squirming and trying to think of an excuse to leave. Oh, dear, this isn't supposed to be happening. What do I do now? This is even worse than Greenwood. Cami desperately fingered the green gemstone that hung about her neck. At that instant, she noticed Frodo standing alone behind the bar. She smiled, then blushed, as she maneuvered Fatty over in that direction. Bilbo gave her a stern look as she walked by.

She pulled Fatty up n front of Frodo, and muttered, "I know you two have a lot of catching up to do." Frodo's face lit up as he saw his old friend. The two hobbits embraced in a bear hug and then began earnestly conversing, leaving Cami thankfully free to slip away, at least for the moment.

Cami's mind roamed back to Buckland, and all those occasions when the three of them had gone out together to have fun. She and Hob, and Fatty.... And now Hob was gone these many years, and she was still not wed. Cami began wondering how many other things she'd forgotten or overlooked from her time at Buckland Hall.

[ February 26, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

02-26-2003, 04:34 PM

"Fatty, come have a half. Come on, I'm buying." Frodo took Fatty's elbow, and steered him away from Cami. "You're looking stout, you solid Bolger you! The wind will never blow you away!" Frodo continued amiably, poking a finger into Fatty's middle. Truthfully, there were many hobbits far rounder than Fatty, but the nickname flowed easily over the tongue, and the poor fellow was doomed to carry it for life.

"Can't we ..." Fatty began, half turning back towards Cami.

"Tell me how your mother is doing, " Frodo cajoled, steering Fatty away again.

"Not as pretty as Cami, " Fatty said pointing with his mug.

"Oh, come now, your mother is a fine-looking woman and ... " Frodo began.

Fatty snorted. "I thought you had more sense than that. Maybe folks are right about you, " Fatty said.

"What are they saying now?" Frodo laughed.

"That you look through a lass instead of at her, " Fatty said impatiently, looking over his shoulder at the lovely apparition in the yellow and green party dress.

Frodo suddenly felt off-balance. "Do people really say that?" he said indignantly, hiding his discomfiture.

"The lasses say it!" Fatty said, poking him in the chest. "You get that glassy-eyed look and they know they are out of luck. I wish half the lasses who looked at you would look at me too-- I say, Ma'am, two more half-pints please."

"Ladies say that about me?" Frodo replied with a real edge to his voice, and Fatty, tearing his eyes from Cami and taking a hard look at Frodo, belatedly realised that the air of injury about him was no jest.

The mixed emotions on Frodo's face unsettled Fatty. "Oh, don't worry about it. Really. Here, cheer up and have another beer, " Fatty ended lamely, waving at the inkeeper. He rallied again. "The point is, Frodo, Cami is far prettier than my mother, and even you should be able to see that. Whether you look at her or through her, " he glowered at Frodo and waved his mug in Cami's direction.

"Well, I know she's-- but-- I can see that-- what I meant was-- Look, Fatty, that's not the point. The point is--" Frodo was stuck and could think of nothing to say.

"The point is?" Fatty prompted, waiting.

The point is that she's here for someone else, but I can't tell you that, Frodo thought, this time successfully keeping his thoughts to himself. "Tell me, " Frodo said deliberately, "how your mother is. And your sister--"

"Ask Merry."

"And your father--"

"Fine."

"All right then. Your mother?"

"Not as pretty as Cami."

"You're hopeless!"

"As a matter of fact, " Fatty said, waggling his finger at Frodo, "I am very hopeful indeed. And that hope suddenly centers around someone who is definitely prettier than my mother!"

Out of ideas for the moment and still a little flummoxed, Frodo took a deep pull at his mug. Fatty smiled, and turned in his seat so that he could study the exquisite creature wafting about the party in a lovely, lovely yellow and green dress.

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

Child's post

Cami glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder to make certain Frodo was succeeding in keeping Fatty occupied for at least a little while. Then she sidled up to the bar and poured out a generous flagon of ale, as Merry walked over to join her with an unusually solemn expression on his face.

The tall hobbit pulled Cami cautiously aside and leaned down to whisper. "Estella tells me he was soft on you, back in Buckland when you were younger. He's a good hobbit, Cami. You could do a lot worse."

Cami turned beet red, and didn't know how to respond so she decided to steer the conversation in a totally different direction. "You know, I do miss Buckland and the Marish, the woods and river and marshes and all the old tales and songs. In many ways, it's still the most interesting part of the Shire to me."

"'Part of the Shire?' Now, don't be saying that. Buckland still stands outside the bounds, although I've been working on a plan to stretch those bounds a bit. But that won't come easy, I'm afraid."

Cami looked up and laughed, "Inside or out, you can't change the heart of the land. There's something that makes it special and different from the rest of the Shire."

"Aye, and you should never have left there." Merry wagged a finger accusingly at her nose. Running off to Minas Anor like that, and never coming back! I must have been daft to help you get a position that far from home. Going on advenures is one thing, but coming back is another. I hope you're here to stay. If you need help getting settled, Estella and I will be glad to pitch in."

"Thank you, Merry. But I can't even think past tomorrow." Cami hesitated to say anything further, since it would require such a long explanation. "But do you remember the songs we used to sing, the ones from Buckland and the Marish, back when we were younger?"

"How could I forget? The ones with Tom Bombadil visiting the hobbits?"

"And we never believed he was real.... I was so angry with you and Frodo when I heard later that you'd actually met him." Cami sighed. "Merry, for old times sake, let's give it a try. You sing with Estella, and I'll play for you." Cami picked up her flute, and began piping a tune. Merry scurried off to get his wife and they returned with arms linked, twirling and dancing about while they sang in perfect counterpoint.

Laughing they drove away, in rushey never halting,
though the Inn open stood and they could smell the malting.
They turned down Maggott's Lane, rattling and bumping,
Tom in the farmer's cart dancing round and jumping,
Stars shown on Bamfurlong, and Maggot's house was lighted;
fire in the kitchn burned to welcome the benighted.

Maggot's sons bowed at door, his daughters did their curtsey,
his wife brought tankards out for those that might be thirsty.
Songs they had and merry tales, the supping, and the dancing;
Goodman Maggott there for all his belt was prancing,
Tom did a hornpipe when he was not quaffing,
daughters did the Springle-ring, goodwife did the laughing.

When others went to bed in hay, fern, or feather,
close in the inglenook they laid their heads together,
old Tom and Muddy-feet, swapping all the tidings
from Barrow-downs to Tower Hills, of walkings and of ridings;
of wheat-ear and barley-corn, of sowing and of reaping;
queer tales from Bree, and talk at smithy, mill, and cheaping;
rumours in whispering trees, south-wind in the larches,
tall Watchers by the Ford, Shadows on the marches.

"That's enough of that. I'm all out of breath." Estella begged Merry to halt, and he quickly complied with her request. Then the threesome began chatting once again, comparing this and that fine sight in Marish and Buckland.

Fatty Bolger soon came over to join them, apparently finished with his conversation with Frodo. "Ah, that was a fine tune from all of you. You'll be asking Cami to come see Brandybuck Hall?" Fatty slipped in near Cami and stood behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder, and looked over towards his sister.

Estella beamed back, "Cami's welcome to come to Buckland anytime. She's almost like a member of the family already."

Cami smiled faintly and began to slither out from the circle, looking slyly around for any respectable means of escape. She could not see the Elf anywhere, but standing quite nearby was her old friend Angelica Baggins, who had apparently just arrived. She and Angelica had shared many an adventure as children growing up in Hobbiton. Cami lifted her hand to her friend and almost on cue, as they'd done so many times before when they were younger, Angelica noted her distress and came striding up to rescue her, "Cami Goodchild, how are you? It's been too long!"

Cami reached out her arm to Angelica in a quick embrace, and excused herself from the others, walking over to the opposite side of the room.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

dragoneyes

02-26-2003, 04:41 PM

Pippin was sat outside the bedroom with Faramir on his lap, waiting for Diamond to emerge. He and Faramir were both ready to go but, as always, Diamond was taking her time. Pippin was becoming restless, he couldn't wait to see everyone again, especially Frodo. The door opened and Diamond stepped out wearing her best dark-green dress, Pippin was momentarily struck by her beauty. "You look wonderful!" he said standing up and ptting Faramir on the floor. He took her by the hand towards the door, took her coat off the hanger and handed it to her. Diamond smiled at her husband, it was clear he was eager to go and there was no point in making him wait any longer.

The ride there was shorter than it usually would've been, which Faramir certainly had no objection to, he loved to go fast. Diamond, however, was more worried about Faramir's steadyness on the back of his father's pony, even with Pippin holding him tight.

They arrived at the Green Dragon and could hear singing and chattering through the door. Diamond pushed her hair back with her hand, it had gotten a little out of place on the way there. Faramir reached up for his father's hand and clasped it, he hadn't been to the Green Dragon before and wasn't quite sure what was in store for him. Pippin opened the door and the enticing smell of food and drink floated out. He glanced quickly over the hobbits gathered inside and picked out Merry strait away, him standing above everyone else, and he began to make his way there, bringing Faramir and Diamond with him, thinking that if he was going to find Frodo or Bilbo, that would be the best place to start.

"Pippin!" he heard a familiar voice call, looking over to where it had come from, he spotted the caller. "Frodo!" he cried and then, rushing over to him, caught him in yet another hug.

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

Mark12_30 Post

Pippin's hug was as energetic and powerful as Merry's, and Frodo felt like a rag doll again, albeit a well-loved and appreciated one. He smiled up at his tall friend, catching his breath, and laughed. "Pippin! Hello! Oh, it's good to see you. Hello, Diamond, " he called, waving, and then he looked down by Pippin's side. "And hello, Faramir."

"How d'you know my name?" Faramir asked suspiciously.

"How could I not know your name, Faramir, my good sir?" Frodo evaded. Now, let's see you. My goodness, you're a fine young lad."

Pippin's eyes sparkled, and he smiled proudly at his son, and then gratefully at Frodo. Merry came over and greeted Pippin, and the three stood silent, glad and solemn for a moment. Then they laughed, and all began talking at once, and laughed again. They talked about many things, family, home, Buckland and Tuckborough and The Smials. They drank several rounds of beer, and sang a few songs together.

There came a pause, and Frodo quietly studied first Merry, then Pippin, and softly said, "Marriage agrees with you, Merry. And you, too, Pippin."

There was a slightly awkward moment, and then Pippin said, "I'm happy. Happy as I've ever been."

Frodo nodded, satisfied. Merry also nodded in agreement. There was another pause.

Suddenly Pippin grew serious, and softly said, "What's it like in the West, Frodo?"

Merry and Pippin both waited for the answer, and Frodo thought carefully about what to say. "Well, you remember Lothlorien. And Rivendell."

"Yes."

"Do you remember... in the Hall of Fire, when the singing became like a river? Did you sink under the enchantment of it like I did then?"

Pippin and Merry exchanged glances. "Well, somewhat. A little."

"Do you remember Bombadil's house, when Goldberry sang."

"Yes. Very compelling."

"It's like that, eventually, " Frodo said. "It's as if the music flows through you, there, and takes you with it, and washes you, or sweeps you to a destination. Only it's a destination of your heart and soul."

"What music? Do you mean that they sing all the time?"

"They sing a lot, " Frodo said, "but the music I'm talking about is... a harmony, well... it's that they have unity there."

"Unity?"

"Do you remember when Galadriel read our thoughts, to test us? When the fellowship first arrived in Lorien?"

Pippin shuddered. "Like a knife."

Frodo raised a hand. "But not like that. She was after something, in each of us, testing us. But in Valinor, people just share that way. They talk that way. That's what I mean by harmony."

Merry thought it over, and sipped his beer. "That's a different way to live, " he said, eyeing Frodo. "Did it take some getting used to?"

"About as much as Rivendell's music did, " Frodo laughed, and they knew he meant that he loved it. They studied him. "And yet you came back here, " Merry said.

"For a while, yes, " Frodo replied. "For a visit."

Merry considered what he had heard, and nodded. "It sounds like what you need. So Gandalf and Arwen were right to invite you west."

Frodo nodded.

"So, you're doing better. With the, the memories of the darkness, and... and that sort of thing, " said Pippin.

"Yes."

Pippin hesitated, then, "Can we talk more about this later?" he asked.

Frodo looked up at Pippin, and pressed the thought into Pippin's open mind: Yes, Pippin. We will talk more about this.

Pippin looked surprised, and then pleased. The gentle warmth and friendship that came with the thought was quite different than the memory he had of Galadriel's interrogation. He began to look forward to learning more about Valinor.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Mithadan

02-26-2003, 06:34 PM

Mithadan was less than two hours out from the Old Trade Inn, when he caught a glimpse of a Man darting into the underbrush alongside the road. He halted his horse ten yards before reaching the bushes and dismounted. Keeping an eye on the road ahead, he knelt as if to check his horse's shoes. Then, taking the steed by its halter, he led it forward until he was a few paces from where he had seen the Man. In a single motion, he drew his sword and leaped off the road. Kneeling behind the bush was an extraordinarily dirty man whose face was covered with three day's growth of beard.

Setting the point of his blade to the Man's chest, he smiled and spoke. "Now, if you're looking for berries, they're out of season," said Mithadan. "So might you care to explain why you are burrowing in this bush?"

The Man's eyes moved from the sword to Mithadan's face and back before he answered. "Heh. Good move. Fast. Yer gots some skills," he said. "I was tryin' ter not be seen. Guess I didn't do so good."

"Your name, sir," demanded Mithadan, leaving his blade pointed at the Man's chest.

"Well, yer can call me Stoat. Old Stoat I yam. Might yer be headin' ter the Shire?" Stoat asked.

"I might be," answered Mithadan carefully.

"Well yer might as well not," said the Man. "They don't like us big folk, they don't. The Hobbits'd just as soon see us gone. They don't let none of us in their lands no more. So if yer headin' there expect to have to head back."

"We'll see," responded Mithadan, taking a step back but keeping his sword raised.

"O ya will," laughed Old Stoat. "Ya will, indeed. They'll bundle ya up and roll ya out as quick as ya please. Say! Maybe ya might be lookin' fer some work? We gots needs for a man 'o arms where I come from. Maybe once yer gets a taste of Shire hospitality, yer might wanna meet up with me again. If yer want work, ya'll find me in Bree. Pays well."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Mithadan as he retrieved his horse and led it on down the road.

"Do that," said Stoat as he rose from the dirt. "Just ask fer me..."

piosenniel

02-26-2003, 06:46 PM

Amaranthas poked Pio in the side with the head of her cane. ‘Your friend, there. Is she married or spoken for?’ Pio looked up to see Cami clinging to the arm of a female Hobbit, as if for dear life. ‘Now what is that all about?’ she thought to herself. ‘And why does Amaranthas want to know if she’s married?’

‘No, she’s not married. And how does that concern you, Miz Amaranthas?’ Pio watched as Cami and the other Hobbit walked to the other side of the room, their heads bent together in conversation. Must be one of her old friends – Angelica, she reasoned.

‘That Bolger boy, there.’ Amaranthas pointed toward where Estella and Fatty stood talking. ‘I can tell he’s sweet on her. Unless you’re fortunate enough to be born a Bolger, you can’t do much better than to marry one!’

Pio spluttered in the wine she was sipping. ‘Sweet on her? Marry one?’ She took a critical look at Cami as she stood talking to her friend. Cami kept one eye on Fatty, and it didn’t appear to be for the purposes of drawing him nearer to her. In fact, she kept positioning Angelica between herself and Fatty, trying to maintain a good distance from the available Bolger male.

Cami! Stand up straight and don’t hide behind your friend. Do you need some help from me? Or can you work this out on your own?

The Elf had learned it was best to let Cami ask for assistance, and not to go charging in to fix the problem.

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

Child's post

Cami had been walking across the floor with Angelica, firmly holding onto her arm, when she felt a strange but familiar sensation inside her head, as if someone was trying to speak with her. Only this time, the message was not getting through in any recognizable form. The room was warm and hazy, and her head was beginning to swim. She looked up and, at the front of the Inn, near the doorway, Piosenniel stood staring at her from across the floor.

Cami sighed. She did not need osanwe to understand exactly what was on Pio's mind. The Elf's face was filled with concern, but also held a warning to Cami that she had best be careful to protect herself and not to mislead her friend. This was very easy to say. It was not so easy to do.

Cami acknowledged that the only way to untangle this misunderstanding was to pull Fatty aside and have an honest conversation with him, at least as honest as she could be, given her peculiar set of circumstances. But the Inn was crowded, and folk were enjoying themselves, not the kind of place conducive to a private unburdening of the soul. Perhaps later, when the welcomes were over and things quieted down a bit, she might take him outside in the garden and make sure there were no misunderstandings between them.

Yet, before she could turn back to Angelica to resume her conversation, a sharp pain ran through her heart, as a hundred different thoughts intruded on her mind. None of this is fair, not for me and not for Fatty Bolger, a decent hobbit who deserves better from me than playing along in a masquerade.

If Maura was here, if he was only beside me, none of this would be happening. Everyone would understand who I was and what my commitments were. But he's not, and I am left with suitors on my doorstep, and a hobbit in the Shire remembering things from twenty years ago.

Cami tried hard to concentrate on Angelica's words, but they kept slipping away. She excused herself, turning aside for a moment to reclaim her thoughts and composure. Yet, she still could not shake the insistent voice inside her head. She remembered the books of lore she'd read that were filled with tales of lovers. Even stories of Elves and Men who had been granted the right to blend their lives together, their hearts and bodies intertwined, somehow overcoming the intrinsic differences in their nature. Why not me?, she wondered.

In all the months since the downfall of Beleriand, in all the tears she had shed, she had asked only for grace to bear the burden that Gandalf had committed to her. Even in the time of bitterness within the Tombs, when she had cried out in despair, Cami had never thrown herself down and begged the powers in the heavens that she and Maura could somehow be allowed to spend their lives together, however unworthy they might be.

She could feel her defenses crumbling, as her heart filled with the stark reality, not of despair but love. For an instant, she sensed the quiet pulse that lay at the center of Arda, and it was filled with a feeling so sweet that there were no words to describe it. Please, Varda, you are a woman as I am, in spirit if not in body. You must know something of the yearning in my heart. I will bend my neck and do what is asked of me. But can there be no other way to bring us together? Just as Beren and Luthien were permitted to hold each other's hearts for a brief space beyond death itself, is there no way to bring down the walls of time? Intercede for me, plead for me, unworthy though I am.

She stared down at the ground and bit her lip fiercely to try and stifle the tears that had begun streaming down her cheeks. Then she managed to composed herself and again set her attention on her friend and the little ones who scampered gayly about their feet.

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

Nurumaiel

02-26-2003, 09:02 PM

"Cami Goodchild," Angelica said once more. "It's wonderful to see you again." She opened her mouth to say more but there was a tug at her skirt. She looked down. "Yes, Prisca?" she asked.

"Fosco says there isn't going to be any food," the little girl said worriedly. "Is that true? Because I'm hungry, Mummy."

"Don't listen to what Fosco tells you, Prisca-baby," said Angelica. She turned to Cami. "Cami, this is my daughter Prisca."

"Pleased to meet you," said Cami, smiling at the girl.

"Hello," said Prisca shyly. "You are the one called Cami Goodchild? Mummy has told me about you." Then she hurried off to find her twin again.

Cami looked at Angelica, and the mother blushed. "I haven't said anything gossipy about you, Cami," she said. "I only told her the best things about you. Come, sit down here for a moment." They sat down together.

"So how long have you been married?" Cami asked.

"Fifteen years now," said Angelica. "My husband is here, too, but I don't know where he went..." She looked around, then sighed and shook her head. "Probably getting a pint," she said with a grin.

"You look lovely," said Cami.

"Don't say that!" said Angelica. "I've been trying to break myself of my old vanity. I'm afraid Prisca is taking after her mother."

"She's a sweet thing."

"Yes, I know. I can't say the same for Fosco, her twin. He's hardly ever sweet; he's almost always a nightmare." And Angelica went on to tell Cami of Fosco's mischief, and the rest of her life as a mother (and Muddyfoot).

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

Child's post

This time it was Fosco, who came skipping up to his mother. Cami knelt down beside the lad and held out her arms. The child backed shyly away, then came closer, staring out from behind his mother's skirts. Cami looked up and laughed, "He's beautiful and sweet, even if he is an imp. His eyes shine with love for you. I don't have too much experience with little girls, but I know boys."

Cami took a deep breath wondering if she should reveal more. But she couldn't keep hiding everything. It was too much of a burden. Perhaps, everyone in the Shire would disapprove, or not believe her. But the other way was even worse. No one would understand who she was or what she'd become. They would only remember the empty shell of a child who had long since grown and changed.

Cami lifted up her head, and turned to face her old friend, "I have six children."

Angelica's eyes widened with surprise as she considered the meaning behind these simple words. "B-but, I thought you weren't...."

"Weren't married?" Cami casually finished the sentence for her. "No, I'm not married. My children were adopted. My girl Rose is a kinswoman, like Bilbo's adoption of Frodo."

"And the others?"

"I have five boys, none related to me by blood. Cami stopped a minute and wondered how to explain. "They had been through very bad times, and there was no family left. It was the right thing to do, and they make me laugh sometimes. A passel of boys will do that."

Angelica sat back for a moment, and wondered what it would be like to have a whole houseful of Fosco's. She smiled wryly at the thought.

"Oh, no," Cami said with a grin, picking up on her friend's startled expression, "They're not all little. The oldest is eighteen and the youngest just five." Her thoughts strayed back to little Maura.

"Cami, how do you take care of them all? Six mouths is a lot to feed,"

"Yes, it is! And they always seem to be hungry. I teach other people's children, and sometimes tend to the sick."

"Other hobbits pay you to do that?" Angelica queried.

"Actually not. Our community doesn't use much money. We exchange food and help each other do things." Cami shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"You support all those children by teaching and healing?"

"Sometimes it is difficult so we all pitch in together. We fish and hunt and trap and dig out shellfish from the river. Gamba has become an excellent shot with the bow. Even Rose and I help."

Angelica's eyes were becoming even wider as Cami routinely described these strange activities. "Where is this place exactly? It sounds similar to something I read in a book Bilbo gave me about the early life of the Tooks."

Cami tried to hide a smile. "Actually, Angelica, this place is very distant from here. I'm sure you've never been there. So giving it a name wouldn't really help you. But if you think of it like Bilbo's textbook, you've probably got the basic idea very well.

Angelica hesitated before she asked her next questions, "Cami, are there hobbits in this place? Are you happy?"

Cami reassured her. "We have close to a thousand hobbits now and more on the way." She hesitated and thought a minute before she answered her friend's other questions. Was she happy? "Yes, I do like it very much. It is simple and rugged, but more beautiful than you can imagine. As to whether I am happy, I would say yes. There is great happiness and joy in my life, along with some sadness. But I suspect it is like that for most of us here in Arda."

The two hobbits continued chatting for a moment in a lighter vein, with much of their conversation centering on the strange ways of children. They promised to meet again later. Just as Cami was about to walk away, she caught a glimpse of Piosenniel standing a little ways off to her left.

Pio's Post

Pio gasped, and an almost physical pain went through her. Tears started in her eyes, and Prim, standing near her asked if she was alright. Was it the babies? Should she bring someone to see to her? Pio waved her off, saying there was no problem with the twins; they were fine and so was she. All of which was true, to a point.

She was not fine. The deep sadness of her friend overwhelmed her. She stepped out for a moment to the porch and leaned heavily against the railing, watching the sun’s last trailing light in the west.

Intercede for me, plead for me, unworthy though I am.

Who could be more worthy than Cami, she wondered. Her tasks were not completed with sword and might and great deeds written of by poets, but with the simple day to day strengths that assured this world that at its foundation was goodness that went forward with a pure, bright light.

Surely even the far off Valar understood the sacrifices already made.

But perhaps not. She did not share the same trust in their care that others did. Still, for the sake of her friend, she bent her stiff neck, and bowed to the west, her right hand at her heart. Bright Eärendil hung like a jewel, low in the western sky.

Let it be so for her. And if it cannot, then allow me the grace to bring her some measure of comfort as I may.

There was nothing she could do now. No way to undo time, as once there had been.

The party flowed on in all its vibrancy as she reentered the Inn. There, before her, standing a little way off was Cami just stepping away from her meeting with her friend. Pio stepped forward and took her by the hand, and for a moment, the noisy crowd parted and they found a sort of refuge in the dark at the top of the stairs. Sitting there on the steps, their arms about each other, they watched the party swirl on below them, a colorful dream of sights and sounds.

Pio turned toward her friend and rested her forehead against hers.

Cami, I heard you call out to the Lady of the Stars. Your pain nearly broke my heart. That I can do nothing to lift it from you.

It stirred memories of some things Ancalimon said to me, long ago now it seems, on the Lonely Star. When bleak despair had me firmly in its grip, and I had no hope or expectation that good would follow from my actions.

He asked me to move from this idea of hope, ‘amdir’, to the deeper foundation of ‘estel’, trust. That in Eru’s design of the Music, that which issues forth must be for his creation’s joy. Untouched by darkness or grief. Hope promised, already fulfilled, and never as some might say, ‘mere flight in a dream from waking’.

She spoke softly now. ‘I have wedded my hope and trust to yours, little Andreth. That time and being will unweave their courses, for a space of time, as you asked. And your own dear Maura reach out his hand for yours and you grasp it.’

They sat in silence for a short while longer. Then the door of the Inn burst open, and the Gamgee family arrived. ‘Another guest has come, Cami.’ The two looked down into the Common Room as Sam and Rose and their seven children made their exuberant entrance. Pio laughed, and grasping Cami by the hand pulled her to her feet. ‘Bad form not to greet the Mayor.’ She brushed the creases from her own dress and tucking one of Cami’s stray curls behind her ear, down the staircase they went.

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

Orual

02-26-2003, 09:21 PM

"Rose! We're late!"

Sam raced to the coat closet and began passing out coats to his children with hasty orders to put them on quickly, they were going to miss the party! "Rose, are you ready? It's time to go!"

"I heard you the first time, Sam," Rose called, sounding irritable. She came into the room, pulling a coat on little Hamfast, who was struggling violently against his mother's efforts, with the occasional piercing scream to accentuate his dislike of the situation. Rose looked like her nerves had been worn ragged, and she gave her husband a dark glare to make sure he knew that she wasn't pleased, and she put one hand on her swollen belly to make sure he remembered that she was, indeed, pregnant.

Sam smiled and went over to Hamfast, giving him a conspiratorial "don't cross your mother right now" look, and pulled on his coat the rest of the way. "Is everybody ready?" he asked, and was met with affirmative cheers. The eldest three of his children looked particularly excited, but his entire brood were anxious to get to the Inn. He picked up Hamfast, stood up, put a hand on Rose's shoulder, and squeezed it gently. He met her eyes and mouthed thank you. His wife smiled reluctantly and tugged on Goldilocks' jacket. The girl looked up quizically, then shrugged. Sam directed them out the door.

The ride to the Green Dragon wasn't long, and filled with the excited chatter of children. Sam, however, looked preoccupied, and of course Rose noticed. "What's on your mind, Sam?" she asked.

Sam looked over at her, a hint of apology in his glance. "Just thinking about things," he hedged.

Rose looked at him with an amused smile. "What kinds of things?" she pressed.

Sam sighed. He was really in no mood for these kinds of games, so he caved in much earlier than he usually did; their banter would last for half an hour or more, sometimes, before they got to the core of an issue. "It's Frodo," he confessed. Rose shifted in her seat and looked at him intently, paying real attention now. "I'm just worried...it's been so long, Rose. It's been twelve years. I don't know if I'll know him anymore."

Rose said nothing.

"All I have is memories of him...but they're all good memories, mainly. I'm afraid that over the past twelve years I've created this person who never existed, who isn't really Frodo." He sighed again. "I'm afraid I've forgotten, and that's exactly what I wasn't supposed to do."

Rose put a hand on his arm. "I didn't know Frodo all that well, Sam, but I do know that everything you've told the children about him is true. He was all that you think he was--or else the truth was too deep for you to be expected to see it."

Sam smiled at her. "We'll see soon enough. There's the Inn."

He unloaded his clan from the back of the cart, and gave them a short lecture on how to behave at the party. He wasn't worried; they were good children. The lecture was mainly to distract himself from his worries. But there would be no distraction soon. He took a deep breath and his wife by the arm, and entered the Inn.

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

ArwenBaggins post:

Elanor followed her parents into the Inn, holding little Goldilocks’ hand. Her sister tried to wriggle free, but Elanor tightened her grip as a wave of people came over them.

Shouts were heard from the crowd, like: ‘Here comes Samwise Gamgee!’ and ‘Make way for the Gamgees!’

Elanor was amazed. People were everywhere. Elanor brushed her golden hair from her eyes, looking at the hobbits and the Elf. Her breath became scarce, and a smile overtook her rosy face.

"Goldilocks! Look! An Elf! It's Piosenniel." Her little sister ignored her, trying to waddle off toward her mother. Her father had started ahead, toward a table in a corner where Frodo and his old friends were supposedly sitting.

[ February 28, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

02-26-2003, 10:52 PM

mark12_30's post

Frodo watched Sam as he hurried towards the threesome. The noise of the crowd abated just a little, and more than one pair of eyes turned to watch the long-awaited meeting. Frodo felt Merry and Pippin's hands on his back, softly guiding him forward towards Sam.

Sam slowed, just a little, and studied Frodo, searching his face; and Frodo did the same. Frodo's eyes lit up with pride and pleasure, and he nodded with satisfaction. Sam came forward then.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hello, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo felt about to burst with joy. "Dear Sam." They embraced, laughing, and then separated and studied one another again.

Carefully controlling his thoughts, Frodo searched Sam's eyes, and saw hope and joy, but also a touch of uncertainty and more than a little curiosity. "Sam, it's good to see you. You look splendid, Mayor Samwise."

Sam studied Frodo and sensed something odd. Frodo seemed on his guard, hesitant. Sam wondered why. "You don't need to call me Mayor, Mr. Frodo," he said conversationally. "It feels a bit odd, in a sort of way."

"Not at all. You've earned it, Sam; earned the title and the respect that goes with it, " Frodo said soothingly. "In more ways than one, " he laughed then, for a thundering herd of small children suddenly converged behind Sam. He clapped Sam's shoulder and then turned towards the children.

One by one and starting with the very youngest, Frodo spoke their names and greeted them with sparkling eyes and a warm smile: little Hamfast, Goldilocks, Pippin, Merry, Rose, Frodo, Elanor. Merry and Frodo-lad remembered to bow and say Hello; Rose and Elanor dropped lovely curtseys.

Elanor eagerly gazed deep into Frodo's eyes. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, sir, I'm so glad you've come."

"I am too, sir, " Frodo-lad piped up.

Frodo was tempted to kneel, to draw closer to them, but Elanor hardly needed that; she was surprisingly tall. He lingered over her, smiling, and heard Sam's voice at his elbow softly say, "She's been terribly eager to meet you, Mr. Frodo."

"Have you, lass?" Frodo asked, startled, and rather pleased.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Frodo, sir, " Elanor replied earnestly.

Merry and Pippin watched as the warm politeness faded from Frodo to be replaced by something else-- a softening, a restrained eagerness and hope touched with just a trace of sadness. "Well, Elanor, " he said gently, "we'll have to see if we can find some time to spend. Perhaps a walk, or a story, or a song. Perhaps all three."

Sam smiled, waiting, watching. His daughter had clearly entranced Mr. Frodo, and that delighted Sam. He watched happily as Mr. Frodo gave Elanor another smile, and then slowly studied the children. Sam waited.

Frodo felt Sam's presence beside him, and yet, somehow it was easier to focus on the children. His eyes lingered on them, noting their features, how they resembled their father. And their mother-- "Ah. Miz Rose... " His face lit up. "And how is--" He almost said "little Daisy," but he stopped himself quickly. "How is the Lady of Bag-End this evening? Miz Rose, it is wonderful to see you. You've obviously taken very, very good care of Sam. Thank you, and bless you."

Miz Rose blushed, and curtseyed, and Frodo stepped forward and took her hand, and kissed it, and then kissed her cheek.

With an effort, he turned back to Sam. Why did everyone else feel safer and less threatening than his dear Sam?

Precisely, thought Frodo, because he's not "my" Sam anymore. Let go. Let go, for mercy's sake, and let him have his life; it's brim-full as it is.

Sam wondered what the shadow was that seemed to pass over Mr. Frodo's face for a moment, but then it was gone, or seemed to be. But something still was not quite right.

He would wait, and watch, he decided. Frodo's face lit up with a merry smile, and he took Sam's arm; giving Rose a wink, he turned towards Merry and Pippin. "I suspect the Mayor could make short work of a half-pint, " Frodo said dryly.

"And I suppose, " Merry responded with equal dryness, "that like Mr. Bilbo, you suddenly expect me to play host, and get it for him."

"He is the Mayor after all, and you're keeping him waiting, Mr. Brandybuck, " Frodo replied with mock-indignation. "Now hop to, or you'll have to deal with the Mayor's representatives. What do you say to that, Merry-lad? Frodo-lad?"

Merry-lad and Frodo-lad looked at each other, and then stuck their chests out. "That's right. You will," they said. "And we're fierce, we are, " added Merry-Lad.

The taller Merry gasped in mock-terror and bolted for the bar. "Wait for me, " Pippin wildly cried and fled after him. Frodo-lad and Merry-lad gave chase, and guffawing, Frodo led Sam in their wake as smaller children eddied around their knees.

The four adventurers, surrounded by children and with curious grownups ringing the group, talked and reminisced for quite a while. But Frodo kept a close guard over his thoughts, refraining from opening up too much towards Sam in fear that he might intrude on him.

Sam perceived his hesitation and reserve, and wondered.

Orual's post:

"Come on, Sam. He's right there. It's been twelve years." Rose gave Sam a little shove on the shoulder, and Hamfast tried to copy his mother but failed. Sam turned pleading eyes to his wife, who showed no sign of pity and nodded in Frodo's direction. "If I let you decide, it'd be another twelve." Despite her pitiless words, Sam knew that she understood and was probably right.

Sam knew that the Inn's attention would be on the two of them the moment they met. Heads would turn, murmuring would begin, grins and nudges, perhaps even a few tears. He really wished that it was in a more secluded place; even as the mayor, Sam liked to do things in private, on his own. He glanced hesitantly around the room. Sure enough, more than one pair of eyes was already looking at them. Nonetheless, Sam steeled himself and walked forward.
He tried to speak, but no words came. He couldn't find any words to appropriately begin this reunion. What could he say? What would fit? What would express what he was thinking? Finally, Frodo ended his internal debate.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam almost laughed at the irony. Of course--hello always works. "Hello, Mr. Frodo," he replied.

He took a deep and--to his embarrassment--shaky breath, and tried to find something more to say, when Frodo again came to the rescue with a simple, "Dear Sam." Unable and unwilling to contain himself, Sam embraced Frodo. Hundreds of memories flooded into Sam's mind, but above all the memory of Frodo asleep in the tower of Cirith Ungol all those years ago, and the inexpressible joy that Sam had felt. He almost felt it now...but not quite. Maybe Rose was right, this was the same Frodo that he remembered--and still maybe he wasn't. He yearned to ask Frodo what it was like in the West, but felt that the question would be awkward.

"Sam, it's good to see you. You look splendid, Mayor Samwise," Frodo exclaimed when they separated. Sam tilted his head a little, strangely taken aback by Frodo's use of his title. It had finally come to sound natural from most people, and like friendly teasing from Merry and Pippin when he saw them. But from Frodo, it sounded somehow wrong. He studied Frodo more closely, and realized that Frodo didn't seem entirely comfortable, either.

""You don't need to call me Mayor, Mr. Frodo," he said conversationally, trying to mask his own discomfort. "It feels a bit odd, in a sort of way." That was putting it mildly.

"Not at all. You've earned it, Sam; earned the title and the respect that goes with it, " Frodo said soothingly. "In more ways than one," he added, as Sam's children entered the Inn, pushing and tripping over each other. Sam smiled as Elanor, Frodo, Rose, and Merry stopped short, being tripped over but not noticing. Rose put Hamfast down and he toddled over, grasping little Pippin's hand. Then she looked over at Sam as Frodo greeted the children. He nodded just a little, to say "it's going well." What he didn't add in the glance was as well as I can expect.

Elanor had approached Frodo, her blue eyes eager and adoring. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, sir, I'm so glad you've come," she said in a soft voice.

"I am too, sir, " Frodo-lad agreed, hardly containing his excitement at meeting his namesake.

"She's been terribly eager to meet you, Mr. Frodo," Sam said quietly, watching Elanor. Frodo seemed a little surprised, but overall pleased by that. They spoke for a little while, but Sam didn't really listen to the words. Elanor was so happy to meet Frodo; she had been waiting all her life. He had held her as a baby, but she didn't remember him. It had been her dream ever since she was old enough to express it to see him again. And she looked so comfortable with him, so perfectly natural. If only I could feel like that, Sam thought, and was surprised at the bitterness that he sensed in his own mind. He was happy for Elanor; it was wonderful for her to be able to get to know Frodo. Why was he bitter? He half-mindedly watched Frodo greet Rose, her cheerful blush and friendly curtsey.

But most of all, he noted the slight, almost imperceptible, hesitance with which Frodo turned back to him.

He feels as strange as I do, thought Sam. He doesn't know me anymore than I know him now. And neither of us will admit it to the other. As he thought this a brief pain crossed Frodo's face--there and gone, so quickly that Sam doubted for a moment that it had actually happened. But though twelve years had passed, he still knew Mr. Frodo well enough to tell when something was wrong. And something was wrong now.

But Frodo took Sam by the arm, smiled brightly, and turned to Merry and Pippin. "I suspect the Mayor could make short work of a half-pint," he said.

"And I suppose," Merry replied, "that like Mr. Bilbo, you suddenly expect me to play host, and get it for him." With an excellent subtlety that he had perfected over the years, Merry sent Sam a quick, puzzled look. He realized that something wasn't quite right, but didn't know for sure, and wanted Sam to tell him. Sam just shook his head a little. Frodo didn't
notice--or at least didn't seem to.

"He is the Mayor after all, and you're keeping him waiting, Mr. Brandybuck, " Frodo shot back with mock-indignation. "Now hop to, or you'll have to deal with the Mayor's representatives." Sam had to laugh at that, and hoped that that laugh was the first crack of the ice breaking. "What do you say to that, Merry-lad? Frodo-lad?"

The boys gave each other a glance and struck a strong posture, chests out and chins up. "That's right. You will," they said. "And we're fierce, we are, " added Merry-Lad.

Merry and Pippin made a show of being terrified by the boys, and were chased for a while. Finally the chase wound down, and the four adults spent some time talking. The talk was mostly just chat, with very little substance and a lot of remembering times past. But Sam noticed that Frodo was being very hesitant with what he said, being careful not to let out too much. Merry was telling a joke, so Sam took the opportunity to look around the Inn. People were still watching them, whispering, probably sharing stories that began with "Oh, I knew Frodo when...." or "I remember the time when Merry and Pippin..." or "Sam used to always..." The room was crowded, and there was hardly anywhere to go to be alone. He glanced at Frodo, who was laughing appreciatively at Merry's joke. Sam felt a pang. Would things ever be the same again?

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

piosenniel

02-27-2003, 02:07 AM

Estella and Fatty had gone to sit with Amaranthas. As a matriarch of the Bolger family, they felt it was respectful of them to pay her at least a modicum of attention. Their real reason, of course, was that Miz Amaranthas lived in the hubbub of the mid-Shire and was privy to far more of the current goings on among family and mutual acquaintances than either of them.

They were just settling in to listen to her telling of the latest scandal involving the Bywater family, when Estella happened to glance out the window, her eye caught by the gleam of a wagon lamp, just turning up the path to the Inn. ‘Excuse me for just one moment, Miz Amaranthas. I need to speak with Merry.’

He was behind the bar, having just retrieved the bottle of Old Winyards from the shelf, and was now engaged in spying out the corkscrew. ‘Ah! Here it is.’ he said, pulling out the third drawer from the end of the counter, and rifling through its jumbled contents. Estella put a hand on his arm just as he pulled it from the drawer. ‘Merry, dear, you didn’t invite someone and neglect to tell me.’ She eyed him in exasperation. ‘Because, if you didn’t tell me, then you didn’t let the hostess know either, did you?’

Merry grinned at her. ‘It was an oversight on her part I’m sure. The party was so hastily put together.’ He put the corkscrew and the bottle of wine back behind the counter. ‘And besides, I told him to bring a little something from the East Farthing to round out the party.’

The wagon pulled up to the Inn’s front steps just as Merry strode out the door. ‘Let me help you with that.’ came Merry’s voice, as a deep voice cried out some muffled greeting.

The door to the Inn was flung open, and in came Merry, bowed under with the weight of a small keg on his shoulders. He placed it on the drinks table and blocked it so it would not roll. ‘Prim!’ he called to the Innkeeper, just coming out from the kitchen. Bring the tapper, and we’ll set up a round of ale from Stock.’ Murmurs of anticipation went up, along with murmurs of appreciation for the cask of dark ale from The Golden Perch.

‘Here! Save a drop of that for the one who brought it!’ boomed the voice from the door. In stepped a strapping Hobbit, his features tanned and creased by days spent toiling in the sun. He was the very picture of that spoken long ago in the stone house on the River Withywindle, at the border of the Old Forest and the Downs. “There’s earth under his old feet, and clay on his fingers; wisdom in his bones and both his eyes are open.”

Farmer Maggot had arrived.

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

Pio was flushed. Too much wine and too many people! She reached over from her seat near the window, and opened the shutters wide to let in the cool evening breeze. An enticing, earthy scent came her way, and she leaned out the open window to see Estella helping what must be Farmer Maggot’s wife unload several large baskets from the bed of the wagon. Estella smiled and waved at her, then pulling back the crisp white cloth that covered the baskets, held up a large, plump mushroom for Pio’s approval.

Prim was summoned, along with Ruby to take the baskets from the two ladies as they entered the door. Cook, on hearing that Maggot had brought mushrooms, got out a number of large skillets and the crock of butter, intending to dredge them in flour and fry them up crisp to serve at the dinner.

Pio had gotten up, and plucked a smaller mushroom from one of the baskets before they disappeared into the kitchen. She brushed the loam from its cap and stem, and popped it whole into her mouth, savoring the rich flavor of it and the firm texture of its flesh as her teeth met it. ‘So this is why young Hobbits dare the perils of Maggot’s farm! This a rare treat, well worth the risk!’

A cold wet something pressed into the hand which hung at her side, and snuffled. ‘Who’s this?’ asked the Elf, her hand coming up from the black, wet nose of the large dog standing there to scratch the bony expanse between its ears. The dog’s hair was thin and grey, and there was white about his muzzle. ‘What’s your name, Old Boy.’ she said, looking into the still clear, dark eyes. Merry came near, and crouched down beside the dog, whose tail wagged in greeting. ‘This is Fang, Mistress Piosenniel. The last of Farmer Maggot’s old dogs. One of the fearsome trio that guarded the prize mushroom patches.’

‘Welcome to the party, then, Fang.’ She spoke quietly to a nearby server, and he scurried off into the kitchen. Coaxing the dog with words and gestures, she got him to come over to the hearth rug and settled him in comfortably in front of the small, warm blaze. The server had by that time returned with a bowl of fresh water and a rather nice sized bone for Fang to occupy himself. The old dog gave Pio’s hand a nuzzle, his tail thumping in appreciation, as he settled in to worrying what meat there was left, from the bone.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

02-27-2003, 06:50 AM

Cami had curtsied and greeted the Mayor of Hobbiton courteously at the door, along with his wife and bevy of children. She had spent a moment or two with the hobbit couple, sharing their reminiscences about childhood days, before the two of them excused themselves and went off to find Frodo.

A short while later, Sam's wife came walking back. Despite Miz Rose's habitually courteous manner, Cami could see signs of weariness and hurting in both her face and gait. "Miz Rose, let me help you." Cami proferred her arm, and led her friend towards a bench along the wall.

Miz Rose looked up with tired eyes, and whispered. "I have a great favor to ask you, Cami, and I hope it will not be a burden. I expect Sam will be busy with Frodo for some time. Could you find me a quiet cot near the back of the Inn, where I could lay down and rest for a little? Please wake me in a short while, as I've a piece of business to attend to, and I don't want to miss the dinner. Plus, the children shouldn't fret because I'm not here."

"Don't worry, Miz Rose. Come and use my bed. I'll keep half an eye on your brood, and make sure they're fine." Cami escorted Miz Rose to the back of the Inn, and was very happy to set little Hamfast near her with some pots and pans from the kitchen. She remained at the table, keeping one eye on the assortment of Gamgees, most of whom seemed to be doing just fine as they scampered in and out of the Inn.

Cami looked about the circle of guests, compiling a short list in her head of exactly who was talking with whom. Frodo's companions were crowded about him noisily discussing old times and new. As for Bilbo, he'd made his way up to Amaranthas and her Bolger kin and was listening to an upate on Shire news, a topic which never ceased to amuse him

But all this social chatter still left one question unanswered..... Why was she here? Perhaps to talk with her teacher, or to be an aunt to Piosenniel's little ones, or even to have her friend remind her of some very basic things.

Pio had been right. The hobbit had little rational hope that the veil of time would suddenly split in two for her personal convenience. But there was still 'estel' or 'trust,' that feeling which lies deeper. Cami believed no one could live without such a little winged bird dwelling in the heart. So she vowed to keep that piece of love and trust alive, for whatever reason she'd been returned to the Shire.

'Amdir' and 'estel.' These concepts were not new. Her mind reached back to when she'd first heard them. And then, with a jolt, she remembered. It was the night in Beleriand when she and Maura had found Andreth's journal, and began to share their feelings for each other. Cami had to laugh. No matter how much she tried to put those things out of her head, it was as if she was continually running in circles. Wherever she started out, her thoughts ended up in the same place again.

Thinking about Maura reminded Cami that she needed to speak with Fatty to clear up their problem. But she quickly realized that this might not be a good time. Hamfast would not make such a discussion easy, either from the practical vantage of managing a noisy baby, or the fact that having Sam's son staring him in the face would bring little consolation to Fatty. Any thought of the conversation was dropped as Hamfast began crying out shrilly for his mother. Cami scooped up the baby and went off to awaken Miz Rose, recalling that her friend had mentioned something before about a piece of unfinished business.

[ March 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

02-27-2003, 10:57 AM

Sam was relating the history of his struggle against an invasion of moles in the Southfarthing when he noticed Frodo suddenly turn pale, and his body stiffen. Fear came into his eyes.

"Mr. Frodo? What's the matter?" Sam said. "Are you all right?" Frodo's eyes were glassy for a moment, and then his gaze cleared to Sam's relief. But then Frodo turned toward the fireplace, and went completely white.

Sam heard a snarl. He sprang in front of Frodo with a yell, but fortunately the snarl had also reached the ears of Farmer Maggot, who barreled inside from the porch, shouting, "Fang, down! Heel!"

But Fang paused, still growling. Then he barked, sharply, several times. He and Frodo stared at each other.

Piosenniel laughed.

The dog's ears went back, and he whined softly; then Fang walked toward Farmer Maggot and sat down at his heel.

Frodo relaxed. Farmer Maggot, Piosenniel, and Fang slowly crossed the room to join Frodo.

"You surprised him, " Piosenniel smiled.

Frodo glanced wearily up at her. "I didn't exactly stand on ceremony. He was very clear about who I am and what I had done."

"Am I to understand that you told him something?" Maggot asked, intensely curious.

"I did, " Frodo replied. "I told him I was done trespassing, and was very sorry that I ever stole your mushrooms."

Maggot chuckled. "He's always had a sharp memory. Well, hello, Mr. Baggins. " Bilbo was slowly approaching.

"Hello, Farmer Maggot, " Bilbo said, and then peered at Frodo with some concern. "Weary?"

"A little."

"Well, " Bilbo replied with mock sternness, "it's a good thing I adopted you away from Farmer Maggot's mushrooms; I do believe you would have been dinner long before you ever came of age! Thievery has its price, you know, my lad, " and Bilbo waggled his finger under Frodo's nose, and launched into a wry, humorous lecture on the preciousness of mushrooms and the righteous indignation of those whose mushroom-patches have been trespassed upon.

Frodo gratefully drank in the mock-lecture, taking refuge and comfort in his uncle's familiar presence. For a few moments, there was no one in the room but Bilbo and himself. He let Bilbo's words wash over him like a river. When the lecture was over, he took a deep breath, and somewhat refreshed, turned back to his old friends, and somehow found the energy to be merry again.

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Mithadan

02-27-2003, 11:59 AM

Lorien sat in his chambers facing the West. He was as a statue, unmoving, but his eyes were open and glittered brightly in the candlelight. If any had been there to see, for a moment it would have appeared that his body became less distinct and that a light shone from within him. Then the moment passed and an old man sat on a chair clothed in gray robes. He nodded to no one that could be seen and smiled. I know, and we have set matters in motion.

Then his eyes dimmed and he straightened himself with a bit of a groan. Rubbing his back, he muttered, "How did Olorin put up with this for all these years." Then he stood and left the room. As he ambled down the hall, the noise from the common room grew louder. He stopped in the doorway to take in the merriment and happiness that filled the air. He observed Cami being swept away from Fatty by Angelica and was immediately aware of much which had transpired. He looked at Fatty with an impish grin. Nightmares for you tonight, little master. Cami is not for you...

Then he stepped forward into the night. The noise of the party became hushed suddenly as the guests took in the tall figure in the doorway. Then he smiled and waved to Bilbo who waved back, and the noise rose again.

He walked to the bar where Prim had just inserted a tap into a wooden keg. "May I?" he asked. "Of course," replied Prim. "The Golden Perch's finest!" She handed Lorien a half. He laughed. "What's this?" he cried. "One of Vairë's thimbles? No! Fetch me a real cup!" At a motion from Prim, one of the servers ran behind the bar and then returned quickly, bearing a pint mug which was promptly filled and passed to Lorien. He drained it in a single draught. Then, wiping his beard, he refilled it...

[ February 28, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

piosenniel

02-27-2003, 12:33 PM

‘No, I haven’t come to take you for a ride. Though the thought is quite tempting.’ She offered ‘Falmar an apple she had taken from the kitchen as she passed through. The horse took it from her greedily, rolling back her lips to take it whole with her large teeth. ‘Careful! Or I shall end up nine fingered like Frodo!’ She laughed, withdrawing her hand quickly. Falmar, having made a quick end to the apple, nuzzled at her neck in seeming apology, then dropped her nose to investigate the folds of Pio’s party dress for further treats.

‘Daintily now, you voracious grey-maw!’ Pio offered the horse a second apple and bit into one of her own. She opened the stall door and led ‘Falmar out to the back of the stable. To the patch of grass where she could sit and the horse graze, if she wished.

‘The party is going well, I think. Cami’s old friends have arrived, and a merry, lively bunch they are.’ Pio gathered the skirt of her dress up above her knees and sat down cross-legged on the ground. ‘She seems to be having a good time.’ The horse paused and looked at her, hearing a note of uncertainty in her voice. ‘Ah, she misses him greatly. Her Maura.' Her own thoughts turned to Mithadan, knowing that he would be with her soon, and wishing that Cami also looked forward to the certain return of her heart's desire.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of feet approaching. Hob Hamfast, two mugs of cider in his hands and a plate of fresh, crisp mushrooms. ‘Cook sent me out with these for you. Thought you might be hungry.’ ‘Always!’ she said laughing. ‘I thought you were standing in as outdoor barkeep for Prim?’

He sat down near her, mug in hand, and took a mushroom from the plate as she offered it to him. ‘Most have gone on home, and the keg is empty, anyway. I offered a hand in the kitchen, but Cook has things in order, so I came out here to check on the horses before going home.’ He grinned at her in the last of the evening light. ‘I saw ‘Falmar’s stall empty and thought you were away on her!’ ‘Not likely!’ she returned. ‘Seeing that I should have to face Cami, Rose, and Amaranthas on my return.’

They sat for a while, talking of small, familiar matters, until Hob had finished his cider. He stood, saying he should get home to Minta. ‘You’ll be alright out here then?’ he asked. ‘Yes, I am enjoying the quiet and watching the light in the west fade out to night. Go home and give Minta my greetings!’ He waved to her as he disappeared around the stable, heading for the lane and home.

‘Look, ‘Falmar.’ She motioned with her head toward the west where the last rays of the sun tinged the low lying clouds with crimson. ‘Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.’ What would she give to be seeing this from the deck of the Star.

She leaned forward watching the red deepen and grow darker.

Rose Cotton's Post

Rosie crept softly out behind the stables. Or at least as softly as was possible while dragging Goldilocks with her.

"Come on.” she urged the two year old. ‘Don't you want to see the Elf again?"

Goldilocks wanted to go back to their mother, but Rosie had said she would help take care of her sister and that meant she would have to come see Pio with her.

Rosie first heard the sounds of the horse, then she saw Pio sitting pensively on the grass and looking at the sky where the sun had sunk behind the hills. Rosie hurried over to where the Elf sat.

"Hello Miz. Pio. Why are you out here? Don't you like parties?"

Pio laughed at this and said. "Yes. I love parties but sometimes I just like to be out here by myself."

"Oh." Rosie paused for a moment. "Miz. Pio, Where's the Daddy?" Rosie pointed to the Elf’s belly.
At this Pio looked out to the sky. She was silent for a moment, then she said, "He's coming. He'll be here soon."

"Great! I can't wait to see more Elves."

"Actually. He's not an Elf. He's a Man."

Rosie looked amazed at first then smiled. "Like Lord Aragorn and Lady Arwen."

Their conversation was halted by Goldilocks, who started to whine about wanting to see mommy. Rosie thought she would have to leave Pio and go inside but then she thought of something. "I know what she'll like. A story. Do you know any stories Miz. Pio?"

Pio's Post

‘I have an idea, too, Rosie.’ She stood up and called ‘Falmar to her. ‘Steady, girl.’ she said to the horse, as she picked up Rosie and placed her carefully on ‘Falmar’s back. Goldilocks, who stood grasping on to Pio’s dress, was wide-eyed as the Elf bent down and placed her in front her sister. ‘Rosie, just put your arms on either side of Goldi and both of you hold on the ‘Falmar’s mane. I will lead you about the yard for a while and tell you some stories about little girls I knew some time ago.’

The stars twinkled prettily in the sky for the two little girls as Pio walked and talked to them of the girls she held dear from her travels on the Lonely Star. She mentioned no times or places, but she showed them Wilwarin, the Butterfly, where it hung in the sky and told them of Daisy and how she had seen Mithadan first kiss Piosenniel on the ship under a sky much like this one, and had run to tell Cami and her friend Rose. She spoke of Rose and the sword that Pio had given her, and what a brave young woman she had been in defense of some helpless Hobbits.

‘And both these girls were Hobbit lasses?’ asked Rosie as the horse walked patiently along. ‘Not Elves?’ ‘Hobbit lasses, indeed, the both of them. Just a little older than your sister, Elanor.’ She stopped to untangle Goldi’s fingers from the mane. ‘They were both my dear companions, and fought by my side.’

Pio lifted the two girls from ‘Falmar’s back, and showed them where the lightning bugs were on the wing, flitting in the summer grasses. ‘Catch me one, carefully cup it in your hands and bring it to me. And I will tell you one more story before we go back in.’

Rosie was quick and pursued her quarry with a sure foot and a keen eye. Goldi, was just happy to run amok in the grasses almost as tall as she, laughing wildly in her high little voice when she disappeared beneath their tips and Pio called out, ‘Oh my! Now where has that Goldi gone to?’ Soon they were tired, as Pio had hoped they would be, and Rosie came back, her sister following, a shining bug caught in the prison of her fists.

‘Let it go now.’ And I shall tell you of the dragon and the two little Hobbit girls, hardly older than you that saved the day for Lord Mithadan and me. ‘A dragon!’ said Rosie, her mouth in a little O of surprise. ‘Did it have sharp teeth?’ She let go the bug and leaned against Pio’s arm as they sat on the grass. Goldi had climbed on the Elf’s crossed legs, and lay against her belly, sucking her thumb sleepily, looking at the stars. ‘Sharp teeth?! Yes, I suppose she did. Though it was her wit and tongue that were her sharper weapons.’

‘Angara was a very old dragon when first I met her . . . ‘she began. It was only a shortened story, but it gave Rosie the flavor of those days in unnamed Númenor, the excitement and the adventure. Angara proved the favorite character for her, but once again her eyes widened when she spoke of Coral and Shell, the Hobbit girls who lived by the sea. And how smart they were. How they had helped Angara make the ‘dragon-fire’ pots that Lord Mithadan and Pio used - to keep back the foe who sought to slay their Hobbit friends.

Soon the story was over, and Pio carried the now sleeping Goldi back to the Inn. Rosie walked along quietly beside her, holding her hand. Just as they stepped from the shadow of the yard to the light cast from the windows of the Inn, Pio felt Rosie tug at her hand. She stopped, looking down at the girl, waiting for her to ask her question. ‘The story,’ Rosie began, ‘the one about the dragon and Coral and Shell. That was a true story wasn’t it. Not some old made up tale.’ Pio smiled, considering her answer.

‘Perhaps you could say that is so. Many of the old tales are true. They are just polished by time and set firm in words. Ordinary people with ordinary lives were many of the heroes. They stepped forward when need arose, and faded back to carry on when need was answered.’ She laughed seeing the further question in the Hobbit’s face. ‘Yes, even little girls like you.’

‘Come now. Let us go back to your mother. I am thirsty, are you? We can get some cold cider and then I should speak with her.’

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

Mithadan

02-27-2003, 01:11 PM

It was well after sunset when Mithadan crossed the border into The Shire. Indeed, he did not know that he had entered the South Farthing, though he soon suspected as much when he noticed that the road was in better repair. Not long thereafter, he began to see isolated farmhouses with lights burning inside and he could make out in the dim light rows of carefully tended crops.

Despite the darkness, he continued on for a time. Then, perhaps two hours after sunset, he came across a cart being drawn by a pony. A single lantern illuminated the face of an older Hobbit and what appeared to be his son. "Well met!" said Mithadan to the two in a pleasant voice. "Would you know the way to Hobbiton? I am seeking an Inn by the name of The Green Dragon."

To his surprise, the older Hobbit scowled and seemed fearful of Mithadan. But, after a moment, the Hobbit pointed down the road and then gestured off to the east. After thanking them, Mithadan resumed his journey down the road. But behind him, the younger Hobbit leaped from the cart and headed to a nearby farmhouse. Minutes later, a pony and rider galloped across the fields towards the north.

Mithadan rode on for a bit until he became weary. Then he dismounted, and made camp in a copse of trees. There he slept beneath the circling skies until morning when he was awakened by a sharp kick to the ribs. Mithadan sat up blearily, only to find that he was encicled by a ring of Hobbit archers with arrows nocked and ready. Keeping his hands visible, Mithadan spoke carefully. "Good morning! I am Mithadan, of Gondor and I am a visitor your fair land. I am seeking The Green Dragon. Is it far?"

A burly Hobbit wearing a hat which had two feathers rising from it answered without lowering his bow. "Your visit ends now, Man. I am Halfred Whitfoot, Shirriff of the Shire. By order of the King and the Mayor, no big folk are allowed to cross our borders. You are under arrest for trapessing."

"The King!" cried Mithadan. "Yes, the King. I have a letter of introduction and safe conduct from King Elessar directed to Master Samwise Gamgee. It is here in my pack..." He turned and reached for his pack only to freeze as an arrow zipped by and buried itself quivering in the turf inches from his hand.

"Keep your hands away from the pack!" cried Halfred. "Now unbuckle your belt and let it and your weapons fall to the ground." Mithadan did as he was instructed. And that is how he found himself being drawn in a pony cart, bound and gagged, through The Shire to the Lockholes in Bywater on a fine sunny morning...

[ February 28, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

Birdland

02-28-2003, 01:18 PM

The good-byes were long at the Trade Inn, with the innkeeper delaying Bird with last-minute tidbits of news and observations, and the little skinchanger returning in kind. So it was a good two hours before Bird finally walked away on the Great South Road, turning off into the trees once she was out of sight of the Inn, and taking to the air.

She circled, but the road was empty, and she could see no sign of a Mithadan and his horse. She wondered if he had found some hidden trail that he would use as a short-cut, but little worried about the Man going astray. He was so close to Pio, surely nothing would prevent him from completing his journey, now.

Besides, Bird had no intention of following the road that Mith had took. She had decided on another course, and smiled with anticipation and mischief. Turning North, she let the course of the Brandywine guide her, and in the distance she could see the dark smudge and mists of a once mighty, ancient forest.

“Well“, she thought, “Pio and Mith will want some time alone, before I drop in and spoil the reunion. I may as well give them some time. And how could I come this far and not at least see if all the say about him is true?”

The setting sun warmed Bird’s left side as she finally reached the outskirts of the Old Forest, and she lighted at the top of a massive oak and surveyed the surrounding gloom of trees. Her heart started voicing strong doubts about the wisdom of such a plan, as the afternoon light was swallowed by the darkness in front her, never to rise again. But then she shrugged her small, feathered shoulders. “After all, Hobbits go in there. If they can do it, I can, too. And with much less bother and disruption. For I carry no axes, and seek to forge no paths. The Withywindle runs straight through the forest. I’ll just fly north ‘til I find it, and them I’m bound to find him."

But before Bird could voice any further doubts, the decision was made for her. Though no wind stirred around her, the branch she sat on started to sway, first gently, then with more vigor. Finally it bent down, and with a “snap!” released itself. Bird was shot forward as if from a catapult, and before she knew it was sailing over the treetops of the Old Forest.

The trip was easier for her than it had been for Frodo and his companions, but there were times when it seemed that a topmost tree branch would stretch out to her as she flew by, one actually brushing the feathers of her tail as she passed by. And when she paused to rest, sometimes it felt that she was not clinging to a tree branch, but to a living, warm arm, and she could feel the pulse of tree sap coursing under the bark like blood through a wrist vein. But the rising mists of the forest could not hide the stars above, and Bird followed their signs true north until finally she saw a glimmer through the trees, and the sound of trickling water. She had reached the Withywindle, and though it was full dark around her, the little stream caught the rays of the moon and lit her way. And then she heard the sounds of a flute.

She had found him. And seemingly all the other birds of the Old Forest had found him as well. All fear of darkness seemed to have left the flocks; predator and prey stood side by side in the branches, hopping here and there with delight, and occasionally letting out a trill of excitement or approval. But mostly they were attending to the flute player. The birds were throwing a party, and Tom Bombadil was both entertainment and guest of honor.

The large, jolly man sat on a stump, yellow boots tapping and feathered cap nodding as he coaxed a sprightly air from the instrument. A pair of grouse stood on a hollow log, beating out a thumping rhythm with their feet, and clapping their wings in time, and two white cranes leaped and pirouetted before him, lifting themselves into the air, twining their necks, and tapping their bills together like castenets.

Bird settled on a branch towards the back of the flock, and she bobbed and swayed to the music, but thankfully, did not caw. When the music ended with a flourish, Tom, grouse and cranes turned towards their audience and bowed, while the birds around them trilled, hooted, screamed and cooed approval, flashing their wings and and raising their crests. Bird cawed and whistled with the rest, but stopped short as Old Tom whirled and turned his smiling gaze right at her, and pointed the flute in his hand in her direction. Birdie’s eyes widened in astonishment as Bombadil began to chant:

Toss the feathers, pluck the down!
For Tom can see right through them.
Did you think you could fool me?
“Birdie” in name only.

Set your feet upon the ground,
Leave your nightly wandering,
Come and share my hearth and home,
For Goldberry’s voice is sweeter.

But come the dawn you must away,
Older friends are waiting.
They’ll remind you who you are,
And call on you to help them.

And so Bird spent the night with Tom and Goldberry, laughing, singing, recounting the adventures of “The Star”, and Hobbrims, and Mer-Folk, with Tom correcting the bits she did not remember; for he seemed to know the tale even better than the skinchanger, herself.

But come the dawn she was away, and after flying around the Farthings, checking out the fields and towns that she recalled from Cami’s reminiscing, watching the Shire-Folk at their comings and goings, she finally came flying through the night, spying the friendly lights of the Green Dragon. Laughter, singing, and the sounds of children eminated from the walls and echoed in the trees around her, and the smells of good cooking and ale waived on the breeze. It seemed there was a party going on here as well, and it, too, had started without her.

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

piosenniel

02-28-2003, 04:19 PM

Child's post

Cami had retreated to the back of the Inn, with the baby nestled gently in the crook of her arm. She tapped her friend on the shoulder to awaken her, entrusting Hamfast to her care, and then guided Miz Rose towards the table, pulling out a bench for her to rest. She did look weary to Cami, far too weary since there was still some time to go until the expected birth. Cami went to locate and retrieve Angelica so the three of them could discuss Miz Rose's unfinished business.

Angelica and Rose exchanged greetings and took a moment to share the latest tales about their childrens' antics. Finally, Miz Rose confided, "I've called us together for a reason. I have a problem, and need your help. Miss Pio came to me the day before yesterday, asking that I assist in the delivery of her twins. I was both happy and honored to oblige. But, for the past day, I've not been feeling well, and that seems to be a sign for me to slow down."

Cami and Angelica nodded their heads in agreement. Yet, they knew it would not be easy for Rose to cut back on her duties with so many children to tend. As if reading their concerns, Miz Rose reasssured them, "I know my husband and older children will help, once I speak with them. But I need to assure Sam that I'll cut back and not take on any extra duties. And I'm afraid that being a midwife is an extra duty, however much I would like to help Piosenniel."

"I thought that one of you might be able to help out." Miz Rose looked at her two friends. "Cami, Pio mentioned that you've become a healer and teacher in your new home. Perhaps you'd like to help her, since you know her best? Or Angelica, you've assisted with several births in the Shire, and would be more than qualified to act as a midwife."

Cami shook her head. "I'd like to, but I have less experience than either of you. More importantly, I'm not sure how long I'll be here. I was escorted to the Shire by someone and must return when they come to fetch me. It would be risky for me to take on such a responsibility since I'm not sure when that is. Angelica would be a better choice."

Angelica glanced first at Cami, then over at Miz Rose. She spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "I would like to help, but I've never seen an Elf give birth. To tell the truth, I've never even spoken with an Elf. But, if you think I can do it, I'd be willing to try."

Cami put her hand on Angelica's shoulder. "Go talk with Pio, and tell her what we've discussed. I think you'll find yourself more comfortable with her than you think."

"Miz Rose, sit and rest." Angelica implored. "I'll get Pio." Then, she added, "You know, Rose, you would have been better off staying home tonight."

Miz Rose smiled, "And how could I do that to my Sam? How many times has he wondered about Frodo and how he felt and what he was doing? If I was sitting at home with Sam--and you know he'd never leave me--both of us would have been miserable."

The three hobbits laughed, for what Miz Rose was saying had the ring of truth. Then Angelica went off to find Piosenniel.

Pio's post

Pio had just entered the door with the two children, and given them into the care of Elanor, when she saw a familiar face approach her. Angelica Muddyfoot, Cami’s old friend, she recalled. Pio brushed the wrinkles from her gown where she had been sitting on the ground, and smiled encouragingly at the approaching Hobbit woman. She was looking forward to meeting one of Cami’s friends from the Shire.

As Angelica drew near, Pio stepped forward and inclined her head toward her. ‘I am Piosenniel, Mistress Muddyfoot. Or Pio to my friends. You are one of Cami’s dear friends from childhood, are you not? So pleased to meet you.’

Nurumaiel's post

Angelica looked up at the Elf and suddenly felt very dizzy. I can't do this, she thought wildly, but she calmly told of her discussion with Miz Rose. "And so," she finished, "I've come to meet you at Cami's suggestion, and ask you a few questions. I've been midwife before, but never for an Elf and you can understand that I'm very nervous."

Pio nodded understandingly.

Angelica paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say next. What did she want to ask Miss Piosenniel, anyway? Do Elves give birth the same way as Hobbits? The thought raced through Angelica's mind, but she was certain if she asked that, she'd be laughed.

Pio seemed to read her mind. "You needn't be afraid to ask questions," she said kindly, and her voice melted away all Angelica's anxieties. She began firing out questions, hardly waiting for Pio to finish answering before she asked the next. The Elf answered each one calmly and surely, and with the kindest of tones.

Angelica finished her long list of questions, and then was silent. What to say now? She hadn't come to a decision, but she couldn't sit here in silence forever. I've made up my mind to say yes, she thought firmly. I think I can handle this, despite how nervous I am.

"Perhaps," said Pio, "it would be better if I told you now, before you say you will, that it's to be twins."

Twins! Angelica felt like she was going to faint as she stared blankly up at Pio. Twins were nothing terrible to her. I've had my own twins, after all, she thought. But Elf twins! It was unheard of. This was her first encounter with an Elf, and she wasn't going to…

She stopped, and took a deep breath, looking around wildly. Her eyes rested on her Prisca-baby, who was giggling at Fosco chasing Madoc around the room. Then she set her jaw and looked firmly at Pio. "Miss Piosenniel," she said clearly, "I've come to a decision. I'll do it."

Pio smiled and thanked her.

"But I can't do it alone," said Angelica, half to herself. "I think I'll have Peony Muddyfoot, my sister-in-law, assist me. She was midwife for me when I had my eldest, and aside from her experience, she's very kind and understanding. She'd be perfect. That is, Miss Piosenniel, if you agree."

Pio’s post

‘I do agree, Mistress Muddyfoot. Miz Rose seems a good judge of character. I trust that she has made a fine choice for her replacement. And so I will trust in your judgement, also. Might I call you Angelica? Since we will be getting to know one another quite well. And please call me Pio.’

Pio looked round at Angelica’s own set of twins, and smiled broadly. ‘Lively, aren’t they?! I wonder if that is what I have to look forward to.’ She could see Angelica giving a considering look to her own children, and a frown crease her brow.

Pio put out her hand and touched the Hobbit lightly on the arm. ‘I have already given some consideration to who might watch the children while you are with me.’ Angelica raised her brows at the Elf, wondering if she had indeed read her mind. ‘Sometimes the questions are simply written on your face,’ Pio said, laughing at the easily read map of emotions that flowed across the features of the Hobbit’s face. ‘Please let me assure you that it is not my custom to pry into your thoughts.’

She pointed toward the energetic Gamgee children who were playing a wild game of tag beneath the staircase and around the empty tables in one corner of the room. ‘I had thought that Miz Rose might need someone to watch her children. I know that Elanor and young Frodo are responsible enough, but even they would need a break sometime.’ The two women began walking back to where Miz Rose was resting. ‘I spoke with Hob Hamfast, our stableman, and his wife, Minta. They have no children as yet, being just newly wed. Minta comes from a large family, and she misses the hustle and bustle of her brothers and sisters. She jumped at the chance to do childcare, when I asked her. And, in fact, she made the suggestion that the little ones could stay the night at their house if that was necessary. In fact, I got the idea that she would welcome them even if it were not necessary!’

They had reached Miz Rose, who now sat comfortably on a padded bench, a cup of tea in her hands. She beamed as they approached. ‘An excellent choice, isn’t she Miz Pio!’ They talked for a while about births the both of them had assisted with, and the additional difficulties associated with having twins. Pio made the mistake of saying, once again, that Elven women did not suffer from the same discomforts as did other woment in labor. The looks on all three of the Hobbits’ faces made it clear to her that they simply did not hold with that theory.

Cami laughed, saying, ‘You’ll find Pio to be the sort of person who simply assumes that events will go her way because that is how she intends for them to go.’ Pio was about to rebut that false statement, when she discerned a decided snicker from the other two women, telling her they fully agreed with Cami’s assessment, and further, felt, too, that Pio would be in for a rude awakening when the time came.

Miz Rose took Pio’s hand in hers. ‘Don’t be angry with us, Piosenniel,’ she said sweetly. ‘You’ll understand where we’re coming from once you’ve had your own babies.’ She sighed and gently rubbed her belly. ‘I’m so sorry to not be able to do this for you, but at the rate I’m going, I may have this baby before you have yours.’

Pio placed her own hand where Miz Rose’s baby kicked most vigorously. ‘You think she’ll arrive soon, then?’ she asked her. Rose’s eyes flew open at the simple question. ‘Have I said something wrong?’ she asked Cami, as both Angelica and Rose looked askance at her. ‘Well, Pio, unlike Elves, we don’t usually know what we’re getting until they appear.’

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

piosenniel

02-28-2003, 10:33 PM

With the exception of her mistake in telling Miz Rose that her unborn child would be a girl, Pio felt her talk with Rose and Angelica had gone well. Both Rose and Cami seemed to place a lot of confidence in Angelica, though Pio had noted a decided undercurrent of nervousness and doubt that ran through the Hobbit at times. She left the three of them to talk with one another, and went back to her seat at the window table with Amaranthas.

‘Cat got your tongue, missy?’ said the old Hobbit gently, as she watched Pio gaze out the window at the starry sky, her brow creased in thought.

Pio turned back to Amaranthas and told her about the change in plans for midwives. ‘What do you know about this Angelica Muddyfoot,’ she asked her. ‘And have you heard of Peony Muddyfoot? She is going to be her assistant.’ Amaranthas cackled at the Elf’s questions. ‘Never thought one of the Fair Folk could be so nervous about anything. I had always heard that ice water ran in your veins.’ Pio laughed and shook her head. ‘No, we bleed the same warm, red blood as you do. I merely want to make sure I bleed as little as possible.’ She fixed Amaranthas with her eyes. ‘Now, come on. I know you are dying to tell me all sorts of things about these two.’

‘Get me a glass of that outland brew and I’ll tell you what you need to know.’ Amaranthas had heard that the ale from Stock was of the finest in that section of the Shire and since it was unlikely she would be traveling to The Golden Perch to taste it for herself, she thought to have a glass of it brought to her. She took a good mouthful of it once Pio had set it before her and her eyes lit up with pleasure. ‘Not bad! Not bad at all!’ was her final judgment as she drained the half pint and set the mug down squarely in front of the Elf, her finger tapping on the rim of it. ‘One more, just to sip on, and I’ll tell you about the two women. Pio laughed, wondering if she would have to carry the tiny Hobbit back to her rooms once this night was over.

‘Not much to say about Angelica. She’s a Baggins, you know.’ began Amaranthas. ‘She’ll stand you in good stead as a midwife. Frets a lot, but that’s more because she likes to get things done exactly right, and not because she’s not confident. She used to just fret about her looks, vain some would have called her in her youth, but now that fretting about being perfect has spilled over into everything she does.’
Pio’s brows went up at this assessment. ‘Oh, but not to the point of not being able to follow through on things,’ assured Amaranthas. ‘She just likes to be thorough.’

‘Now Peony, she’s an interesting one. The youngest child of Otho and Aldarida Brown Muddyfoot. Five children in that family. Merimac, Angelica’s husband is the second. Good folk, the Muddyfeet, from Michel Delving. Calm.’

‘Peony’s thirty-eight. Independent as the day is long. Says she’ll never get married, but between us I think it’s just that she hasn’t been asked yet. Take a strong man to win her approval. She’s bold and speaks her mind, though always in a kind way if she can. She’s very confident in herself. She was Angelica’s midwife for Madoc, and also for Melilot Tunnelly. Why, if I were having babies,’ and at this the old Hobbit wheezed out a dry laugh, ‘she’d be the one I wanted to deliver them!’ Pio sighed in relief. ‘Then it appears I have a good team. Thank you for filling me in.’

Amaranthas put a hand on Pio’s arm. ‘Yes, you’ll be fine with those two. And you’d better tell Hob to come get me in the cart, dearie. Old Amaranthas wouldn’t miss this for the world!’ Pio smiled at her and leaning across the table gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Amaranthas had gone back to sipping on her ale, her quick, dark eyes darting about the room at all the merriment.

Pio turned her attention to the night sky beyond the window. Wilwarin hovered brightly in the sky. The sounds of the party flowed over her, leaving her untouched as she wondered where her beloved slept this night.

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

Mithadan

03-01-2003, 10:10 AM

Lorien tarried by the keg for some time. He was unfamiliar with beer and found it to be quite tasty once one got used to it. When he had finished his third pint, he drew a fourth from the keg and wandered off towards the fire where he discovered Cami sitting near Miz Rose. He stood, watching the two chat for a moment before interrupting. "Your pardon, ladies," he said. "But I would like a moment with Cami, please."

Cami looked up at the Vala in surprise, then nodded quickly and excused herself and walked off into a corner to stand by Lorien who knelt beside her. "Cami," he began after taking a sip at his pint. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Well," replied the Hobbit. "I suppose that you are here to accompany and assist Frodo and Bilbo in their travels." Lorien nodded, then, after a moment's thought resumed. "Well, yes," he said. "There is that. But why do you think that we are all here?"

"So that Frodo and Bilbo may have a last opportunity to see their friends and loved ones, I would suppose. Though I'm not sure why I was brought here," answered Cami, beginning to become a bit confused at the riddle game.

Lorien shook his head distractedly and took another long draught from his cup, which was now nearly empty. "Well, yes, there is that, but it is about you that I wish to speak...to you I mean, if you understand..."

Cami's brows were furrowed. "Actually, I don't," she replied. "I don't understand at all. Why I am here, I mean."

Lorien swayed a bit as he listened to Cami's words. Then he shook his head again and opened his mouth to speak. But before any words could come, he was interrupted by a loud crash as the door to the Inn swung open a bit too quickly. If many heads turned in surprise, they were all even more surprised at what they saw there.

Bright blue was his jacket, and his boots were yellow. Green was his girdle and his breeches of leather. He wore a tall hat with a swan's wing feather. He shouted out in a loud, yet lyrical voice, "Hey dol! Derry dol! Ring-a-ding-dillo! Here's Tom, old Tom, here's Tom Bombadillo!"

He swept in quickly and made straight for Frodo who was standing stock still by the bar. Behind Tom came a second figure, with hair golden like honey and a dress of shimmering silver and blue. About her brows, she wore a garland of buttercups. Tom and Goldberry came to stand before Frodo who smiled in delight. Tom swept off his hat and bowed deeply until his beard swept the floor. Then he rose with a twinkle in his eye. "You called for old Tom, master Frodo, but for a happy occasion I see. All your friends are here to greet you and now Goldberry and me!"

Pio’s post

Then another clear voice, as fresh and as old as Spring, like the song of glad water flowing down into the night from a bright morning in the hills, came falling like silver on Frodo’s ears:

Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!

And with those words, she smiled and greeted Frodo warmly, and a golden light was all about them as they spoke.

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

mark12_30

03-01-2003, 10:59 AM

Frodo bowed in reply, laughing out loud with sheer delight. "I have wanted to see you again for so long. Tom, welcome. Welcome."

Then he turned, with his eyes shining and his face glowing, and stepped closer to Goldberry. She smiled, and then laughed with delight as Frodo sang for her once again as he had before, only this time he did not blush:

"O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water!
O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter!
O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after!
O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter!"

And he stepped forward unabashed, took her hand and kissed it. Tom laughed, and Frodo laughed back at him, and the three joined hands and jigged a measure. Then he turned to his friends, and said, "A long desire of mine has now been met, and my joy is full! Goldberry would say, " he turned his gaze on her again, "'Laugh and be merry! This is a merry meeting!' And so it is. I could dance for joy!"

Tom caught his hand again, and as he sang, the slipping circle went first to the left, and then to the right, and at every shift, somebody joined in. So did the fiddles and flutes, and before long, there were children gamboling in the center of the circle, and only the very old, the very young, or the very-with-child were not dancing as Tom sang:

Hey! Come Derry dol! Hop along, my hearties!
Hobbits, elves, young and old, we are fond of parties!
Now let the fun begin! Let us dance together!
Shirelings and travellers with Tom and the River-Daughter!

Laughter flowed like a rushing river through the dance, and one song followed another, and it was long before anybody grew tired.

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

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

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-01-2003, 11:36 AM

Cami's jaw dropped open in total amazement and frustration, the two emotions so mixed together they were impossible to separate. She was indeed one of the very few at the Inn who were not dancing about the floor.

For the moment at least, her feeling of amazement was the one that prevailed. To be seeing Tom Bombadil in all his raucous glory was really quite astounding! She had just been chatting with Merry how she had always wanted to meet him, and here he was turning up at her party in the middle of Hobbiton. I can't believe he's here, she reflected. The old tales say he never ventures far from the Old Forest, save for the Marish and the Barrow-downs itself. And not only that, but the lovely Goldberry, daughter of the river, stood there by his side.

Cami wondered how the two of them had heard about this event. She could not recall their names being on her invitation list. Perhaps, it was Maggott who had tipped off both of them. Then, again, given the presence of all these newcomers, Cami was beginning to wonder if there wasn't a little bird somewhere in the Shire, flitting about and dropping notes on select homes to inform them of the arrival of Frodo and Bilbo. She glanced warily towards the door, wondering if there would be more unexpected arrivals, and reviewed the menu items in her head to assure herself that there would be enough food to feed their additional guests.

Still, Cami didn't spend too much time worrying about that. There were mountains of food waiting in the kitchen, which would be brought out in short order. After Tom and Goldberry finished exchanging their greetings with Frodo, she promised to go up herself and try to meet them.

Cami was so entranced with Tom and Goldberry's arrival that, for an instant, she forgot the source of her frustration. She was just about to throw up her hands and join in the merry springle-ring.

Then, it abruptly returned to her. Lorien had been talking to her and alluding to something of more than casual interest. Ah, yes, the reason why she was here. Just the thing she'd been yearning for someone to confide in her. Cami reasoned that the fellow was a Vala so he should know a great deal more than she did. She glanced nervously about, intending to corral Lorien and coax an answer out of him as quickly and efficiently as possible.

But, when she turned around to find him, Lorien was no longer seated at the table. He had danced across the floor in the direction of Tom and Goldberry, and seemed to be pirouetting about in circles, with his flagon of ale held high in honor of their new guests. Cami looked on with increasing frustration, wondering how she could possibly interrupt and force the Vala's attention back to the critical issue at hand.

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

piosenniel

03-01-2003, 11:58 AM

So fair was the grace of Goldberry that it seemed her dancing feet moved through the rhythms of the dance as the quick waters of a rain-filled brook flow quickly over small grey stones, a rushing song in their passing. Her hair shimmered and rippled in the firelight, and “a light like the glint of water on dewy grasses flashed from under her feet as she danced."

She reached out a slender hand to Lorien, her eyes untricked by the guise he had assumed, and drew him for a while into the dance. Her gown rustled softly like the wind in the tall rushes bordering on a river as she danced, and her laughter fell softly into spaces between the notes of the song like a clean summer’s rain.

Tom pulled her and Lorien from the circled dance, closing the gap left by their exit as he joined the hands of the Hobbits on each end.

‘Well met, Master of Spirits! What brings so fair a dream to the Shire, so merry a meeting of old friends and new?’ He took the now empty flagon from Lorien’s hands, and refilled it from the cask, filling one also for himself. ‘Yes,’ joined in Goldberry, casting her bright eyes about the room at the Hobbits, ‘what has tempted you from the pleasures and the peace of your own gardens, and from the side your gentle Estë.’

Lorien drew them into a quiet corner and spoke of desires and wishes woven together in this space of time, and of his part in it. Tom’s head nodded many times, as if he had already known this, and had waited only for Lorien’s words to set it into being. Often his bright blue eyes would drift to where Frodo and Bilbo stood, and his face would wrinkle in a wide smile, as Lorien spoke.

Goldberry’s eyes were often on Cami as the story unfolded. ‘So like a summer’s flower in her green and yellow,’ she thought, ‘awaiting the refreshing touch of raindrops on thirsty leaves and roots.’ And when Lorien had finished speaking, she stepped lightly away for a moment, saying she had some small thing to bring in for the party.

The River’s-daughter “. . . passed out of the room with a glimmer and a rustle. The sound of her footsteps was like a stream gently falling away downhill over cool stones in the quiet of the night.” At the foot of the stairs to the Inn, she and Tom had left two small casks of honeyed mead, made last summer with honey from their beehives and the hardy flowers of late summer just passing into autumn. Rich, dark gold was its color and its spirit strong.

‘Mead!’ cried Lorien, his eyes dancing with delight, as she brought it in. ‘I had a taste of that this very afternoon. A wondrous offering of Middle-earth.’

Old Tom’s brown beard wagged up and down, and his eyes twinkled merrily, as he filled a glass of the thick, golden liquid for the Vala. Lorien drained it quickly, his hand reaching out the glass for another. Tom laughed, as did Goldberry, as he poured another round for Lorien.

‘Master of Spirits you might be,’ he chuckled, ‘but best be careful that Goldberry’s spirits do not master you.’ Lorien simply winked at the Eldest, and offered his empty glass once again.

Goldberry left the two to talk and make merry with the mead. Her footsteps brought her to Cami, and she smiled invitingly at the Hobbit, offering her a small glass of mead.

‘Well met, Elf-friend. How goes your time in the northern forest?’ She laughed merrily at the look of surprise on the Hobbit’s face. ‘The waters run south to the sea. They bring news.’ She laughed again, a softer silvery sound. ‘Come now. I have brought you some of my garden’s own mead for your pleasure.’

*********************************************
Child's post

Goldberry handed Cami a cup of the sweet honeyed drink, and bowed graciously before her, her sweet voice tingling with merriment, like the echo of a free-flowing river.

Cami curtseyed in response and whispered a few polite and earnest words concerning her home in Greenwood, the hardships her kin faced, and her fears for their safety. For it surprised her greatly that Goldberry should know or speak to her of such things.

Laughing and swirling about on her toes, the daughter of the River raised her slender white arms above her head. A wind stirred within the Inn itself, like a breeze that rustles the slender boughs of a tree or ripples through its leafy foliage. "Come now, Miss Cami. Such solemn words and such a serious demanor! This is not what I had hoped to find. Speak no more of hardship or shadow. For tonight I would hear you voice your dreams."

"Look there, how the Master of the Gardens of Lorien and the Master of the Old Forest dance within the circle. They weave visions together into one great tapestry, which stands bedecked with silver mists and the lilting tunes of songbirds. Once again, the curtains part."

"Hobbit lass, you have been summoned into the circle. Such a thing is rare and wondrous. They weave one dream for you, and another for Master Frodo. Do not turn away, or ask so many questions. Join in the song, and share the secrets hidden in your heart."

For some unknown reason, Cami found herself blushing pink from the top of her curls to the very soles of her feet. And she shared with Goldberry many things concerning her love for a wise hobbit Loremaster who dwelled in a place far away. And the River-daughter laughed to hear all she said and urged Cami to join the dance, and not to lose her hope.

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

Carrûn

03-01-2003, 12:20 PM

Frodo-lad was having quite an evening. Never before had the young hobbit seen such an assortment of guests before even at some of the biggest Shire parties. Along with Merry-lad he had chased Mr. Brandybuck with a vigor as young Pippin-lad strove to keep up, but being unnable to do so for long he waltzed over to his father instead. Catching up with Merry they attempted to wrestle with him briefly but he was somewhat of a giant among hobbits and they soon gave up much to the ammusment of their elder.

Growing borde, Frodo-lad looked around for his sister but did not see her. The smell of food was beginning to work on him and he made up his mind to get some one was or another.

[ March 03, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

piosenniel

03-01-2003, 02:24 PM

Amaranthas sat down with a satisfied thud on her chair. She had danced in the springle-ring, holding on to the hands of Master Merry and Master Pippin! Her old feet had flown round the floor, and her steps had been light and sure, as if some gentle hand supported her tired old bones. A wide grin wrinkled her tiny face, and she nudged Pio, drawing her attention from the night sky. ‘Pour me a cup of wine, Miz Pio! My throat’s as dry as a burnt piece of toast after all that singing.’

A bright light glinted from her eyes and gnarled fingers tapped out the rhythms she had just danced to. ‘Aboslutely amazing, you know,’ she continued, after a few sips. ‘I don’t know half those songs we sang, but somehow the words just came to me. I haven’t felt this young for an age it seems.’

Her eyes lit on Tom, sitting at a table with that other fellow, Lorien. ‘Just who is that?’ she asked, pointing at him as he laughed merrily at something Lorien had said. ‘And isn’t she a pretty one, and so graceful and quick.’ She gazed at Goldberry, now standing near Cami.

‘The Elves have a name for him, Iarwain Ben-adar, Oldest and Fatherless.' said Pio. 'Though, I think even that naming does not capture him. He’s just Tom, Tom Bombadil, here with his pretty lady. Goldberry, the River-daughter.’ She smiled at Amaranthas, who waited expectantly for more. ‘He is,’ she said softly to the Hobbit, ‘and she is with him.’

Amaranthas snorted at this Elvish talk, but seeing that she was to get no more from Pio, sat back comfortably in her chair and sipped her wine.

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

Orual

03-01-2003, 03:00 PM

Slightly shaken from the run-in Farmer Maggot's dog, Sam was doubly surprised and delighted when Tom Bombadil and Goldberry arrived. He looked down and saw little Pippin, who was tugging at the leg of his father's slacks. He scooped up the four-year-old, who started waving frantically. To Pippin-lad's joy--and scarcely less to Sam's--Tom waved back cheerfully. The boy beamed and hugged his father's neck tightly, overjoyed, and shrieked in excitement.

When the dance started, Sam extended a hand to Rose, who declined, taking a seat by the fireplace. She looked tired, and stroked the top of Hamfast's curly head--he was leaning by her chair. She waved him on, and so he rejoined the circle and began to dance, taking Rosie-lass by the waist and spinning her. The music was infectious, and Sam got caught up in it, forgetting all his problems and the worries that he had brought into the party, and simply danced.

When the dance ended, Sam bowed and kissed Rosie-lass's hand, and she laughed. Sam looked around and saw that Frodo had drifted off, and all of his gloom came back to him. He must have slumped visibly, for Merry walked up to him.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Merry asked, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I thought you'd be happy, with all that's going on."

Sam smiled weakly and put his hand on top of Merry's. "I thought so, too. It's just...strange, is all. We've all changed so much in twelve years, Merry--but you, and me, and Pippin, we've changed together. Frodo changed apart from us, in the West, in a totally different way. I don't know him anymore."

Merry frowned, and squeezed Sam's shoulder sympathetically. "You'll get a chance to talk to him, alone, and you'll catch up. Just don't let this chance go by, or you'll always regret it."

Sam looked up sharply at Merry, but the Master of Buckland just smiled cheerily and went over to talk with some of the other guests, leaving Sam alone to think on Merry's words.

[ March 02, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

piosenniel

03-01-2003, 03:08 PM

Pio had returned to her watch on the night sky when she felt Amaranthas nudge her again. Without turning, she sighed, saying. ‘Really, Amaranthas, I can tell you no more of Tom Bombadil.’

‘Perhaps I can speak for myself then,’ came the amused voice behind her. Tom stood at the table, smiling down at her. His ruddy face, the color of a ripe apple, was creased into a hundred wrinkles of laughter.

‘Mae govannen, Master Tom!’ her cheeks tinged with crimson that she had not noticed his approach. She stood and inclined her head to him, waiting for him to speak further. This was one before whom she felt small and humble, and she was honored that he had come to her table.

Again he laughed, a merry sound, his blue eyes gleaming with the starlight from the open window. ‘Sit, Piosenniel. No need to stand on Old Tom’s account. I bring you word of a friend who draws near.’

‘Mithadan?’ she asked, wondering that he might have passed through Old Forest.’

‘Not Mithadan, though soon I think you shall hear of him.’ He shook his head as she thought to ask Tom further news of him. ‘An older friend than him,’ Tom said, singing this verse:

Toss the feathers, pluck the down!
For Tom can see right through them.
Did you think you could fool me?
“Birdie” in name only.

An ‘O’ of surprise formed on Pio’s lips, and her eyes widened with delight. ‘Bird is here, then?’ she asked.

‘Soon, soon. Then she’ll fly in, to a merry meeting, if I have the right of it.’

Pio, all humbleness aside now that he had mentioned her dear friend, pressed him for further details. With a grin and a nod of his head, he told her all of their long night together, the songs, the stories of her trips south, the tales from the Star. And she drank it all in, thirsty for news of Bird.

As wonderful as this evening’s festivities were, tears glistened along the line of Pio’s lashes. ‘You have brought me joyous news, Eldest. I miss her sorely.’ She turned her face back to the night framed by the window. ‘Now if only the winds will bring her swiftly to me.’ she murmured.

Bidding both of them a pleasant evening, Tom took leave of her and Amaranthas and sought out Goldberry.

Amaranthas, wondering at the both of them, sat and watched as they moved about the room. Contented, she kept her own counsel, tucking it away to savor later.

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

Mark 12_30's post:

As the dance swirled and cascaded, Frodo scanned the crowd, and found the one he sought. Moving through the dance, he reached her, and offered her his hand. Her blue eyes grew huge, but she took the proffered hand.

Smiling and lauhging, Frodo led her back through the dance. Her eyes grew even wider as she found herself dancing near Tom and Goldberry. Goldberry smiled down at her, and Elanor blushed and didn't know what to say. Golden curls flying, she kept dancing, in no hurry to leave Mr. Frodo's side.

And Frodo was content to have her there.

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

Child of the 7th Age

03-01-2003, 07:26 PM

After many rounds of music and much dancing and mirth, Cami rememembered her own unfinished business. She still needed to approach Lorien and persuade him to reveal some answers to her questions, for however full of merriment Goldberry had been, Cami had not understood her words and even found them a bit unsettling. With this plan in mind, she began to search for Lorien. Yet, she could find no glimpse of him, and was beginning to worry he had left the party without even speaking to her.

It was when Fatty approached her, asking for a dance, that she decided to pull him quietly aside and put an end to their misunderstanding. Cami spoke gently to Fatty and revealed as much of her situation as she could, even describing Maura, but without any specific names or dates or places. She went on to say how a cataclysm of war had torn the hobbit from her side, and there was little chance she would ever see him again. Yet, she refused to give up hope and there was still some possibility that Lorien knew where he was, and could help her find him.

"Fatty, I need your assistance." Cami went on to beg. You're my closest friend from Buckland and the East Farthing, and the only one who knows my secret. I need to get hold of Lorien and persuade him to talk to me, but I don't even know where he is."

Fatty scratched his head and looked intently at the woman in the green and yellow gown who had captured his heart. Such a strange, sad tale. It reinforced his belief that folk were better off staying safely within the Shire and not running away on adventures where bad things were bound to happen. Whether it was the gentle urgency of Cami's words, the soft haze left by the honeyed mead, or just the goodness of Fatty's heart, the hobbit resolved to aid her. In any case, if Cami spoke with Lorien and finally realized her situation was hopeless, perhaps she'd come to her senses and look for a good mate close to home.

"You're quite sure about this, Cami? This fellow knows something that can help you."

"Fatty, I'm not sure of anything. But he did say he had a message for me, before he was pulled away by Tom. I looked everywhere in the party room, and couldn't find him."

Cami offered to look through the back of the Inn, while Fatty checked the stables and the other areas outside and hunted for any clues on the location of their missing guest. Fatty stopped long enough to enlist his friend Merry, but was careful not to reveal any of the particulars. The two went outside and begin their search of the stables.

It did not take long to locate the missing guest. Merry was the first to hear the loud caterwauling noises coming from the garden that stood directly behind the Inn. Creeping back inside and slipping out the kitchen door, they found Lorien atop the picnic table, staring up at the skies, and singing to the moon. Beside him on the table was the great dog Fang, lending his support with a well-placed howl or two at strategic points in the verse.

'I want fire and gold and songs of old and red wine flowing free!'....

For hunger or drouth naught passed his mouth till he gave both crown and cloak;
And all that he got, in an earthen pot broken and black with smoke,
Was porridge cold and two days old to eat with a wooden spoon.
For puddings of Yule with plums, poor fool, he arrived so much too soon:
An unwary guest on a lunatic quest from the Mountains of the Moon.

Fatty raised one eyebrow and looked over at Merry. This did not sound encouraging to either of them. The hobbits had spent too many long evenings in the Green Dragon Inn in their youth and could clearly see what was going on. The part about the lunatic quest was particularly disturbing to Fatty. How could Cami think that this fellow could possibly help her?

Merry immediately echoed his own doubts out loud, "How's he gonna' talk with her? I mean...."

"I have no idea. But that's her problem. Let's jut drag him inside and she'll figure it out."

"He's awfully big to drag. Maybe we should get the others to help."

"No," hissed Fatty. "We can do this ourselves. I promised Cami."

At that point their conversation was interrupted by the gentleman sitting on the table, "Ah, hobbit lads. You didn't happen to bring another pitcher of that good honeyed mead, now? I finished the last spot from....ah, now when was that we were drinking in the garden? Anyways, I finished the last little nip from the flask out here and need a bit more to chase it down."

His speech was surprisingly articulate to Merry, considering how much he'd just finished drinking. But his eyes were glassy and rolled about in his head. "This fellow must have an amazing capacity," muttered Fatty. "Just look at all those cups."

There were indeed ten empty flagons lined up neatly beside Fang.

"Maybe the dog?"

"Nah," countered Fatty. "The beast has too much sense for that."

Lorien turned away and was about to resume his crooning when Fatty went up to him and boldly interrupted. "Your pardon, sir, but Cami has a nice table set up inside with a large pitcher of honeyed mead and was hopin' you'd share it with her."

A grin broke out on Lorien's face. "There's a good hobbit lass! Always thinkin' of 'er friends and such." He tumbled off the table, but managed to stagger up, and leaning first in one direction and then in the other, made his way back towards the Inn, supported on the shoulders of two sturdy hobbits.

"Miss Cami, sir, says you're supposed to tell her something important." Fatty looked up at the wobbly visitor with expectation in his eyes, mixed with a healthy measure of skepticism.

"Er....I believe so." And Lorien tried very hard to remember what that something was, but every time he came close to getting it, the idea slipped away. What was that now? Something about another hobbit lad that the girl was soft on... Was it this lad standing beside him? Lorien wasn't sure.

So Fatty came triumphantly up to Cami, leading his gift of love, and unceremoniously dumped the missing visitor near the table she'd set up, just under the open window in the Common Room. Cami heaved a sigh of relief, although she too could see the state Lorien was in. Still, it was worth a try.

Then, without warning something happened, that no one in the room expected, or, more precisely, no one in the room except for Tom and Piosenniel.

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

Birdland

03-02-2003, 09:50 AM

Since the end of the War Against the Darkness, all knew about King Elessar's edict regarding the Shire, and the closing of its borders to any of the "Big Folk" of Middle Earth. Though there had been some grumbling in Bree regarding how trade was to be continued between them, most people left in Middle-earth had greeted this news with a shrug. After all, what could this small country in the far West possibly offer any of them, to make it worth the effort to even try to go there? (These attitudes would change within a few centuries, after the population of Men had grown and the countries of the East became more crowded - much to the dismay of the Halflings.)

Bird had not concerned herself too much about the edict. As she had flown West, she had convinced herself that it would be easy enough for her to visit the Shire. She need only morph to animal form when in the presence of Shire-Folk, and since she knew she intended no harm to them, felt no twinge of concience towards disobeying the king. (Well, perhaps a little, but he was so far away.)

And as for Pio? Improbable as it was that she should be spending her "time of waiting" in Suza, still; she was an Elf. No one actually believed that the edict would extend to the Elf-Folk. They would come and go through the Shire as they liked, and as they always had: secretly and quietly, taking the shortest route towards the West and the Havens. Mith, she assumed, would make arrangements for Pio to meet him outside the boundries.

So Bird was totally surprised when the first thing she saw as she arrived outside the Green Dragon was a Man. Definitely a man, old and grey-bearded, decidedly in his cups and singing a duet with a dog.

How could this be? Was this the right place? Who was this Big Folk, to sit here so blithe in the heart of the Shire, ignoring the command of good king Elessar? And where was Pio?

A sense of noble indignation came over Birdie. What kind of shady dealings were going on here? Bird had no intention of waltzing, (or flying) into this inn until she got to the bottom of this. Bird had always had what she considered to be a healthy mistrust of Men and their doings. This had only been increased since her time in the Southlands.

Choosing a sapling near the bench where the man sat, she quietly flitted over to a branch, and under cover of the surrounding dark, morphed into neeker-breeker form. Then she leapt onto the shoulder of the swaying, singing greybeard, Hiding herself under a fold of his cloak. Here she would listen unseen until such time as this man explained himself.

But outrage did not increase Birdie's stamina. She had spent many months flying cross country, and her late night in the Old Forest plus her day-long jaunt through the Shire had tired her. Once she nestled into the soft, warm folds of the man's robe, it wasn't more than five minutes before she was fast asleep.

She awoke abruptly as the man suddenly rose to his feet though, and peering out, she spied two hobbits, one on each side of the Big Folk, gently escorting him back into the Green Dragon. Bird yawned and tried to shake the grogginess from her as the smoke and lantern light of the inn partly blinded her. The party, for what occasion she knew not, was in full swing, with hobbits of all stripes and ages, male, female and children, dancing, singing, and, of course, eating. None seemed to give more than a passing glance at the Man sitting on the Bench, now tapping his feet and bounding his hand on the table.

Bird started awake as she suddenly saw Tom Bombadil and Goldberry dance across the floor! What were they doing here!? Of course, they would not technically be considered "Men", and were old friends of many of the Hobbits in Buckland, but still...

And then Bird saw her. Dressed in green and yellow, with a bright bow tying back her curls of grey and brown. Laughing and raising her cup, as if escaping from the care that she had carried with her as she marched north with her new family. It couldn't possibly be! But it was!

"CAMI!" shrieked Birdie, and as she cried the name she totally forgot to maintain her insect form. Lorien tilted to the left as a full-grown woman suddenly appeared on his shoulder and slid into his lap.

"BY THE ONE!" he cried in shock, as he leapt to his feet with the woman's arms clinging around his neck. "Whoaaaaa!" screamed Birdie as she tried to find her feet. Together the two forms crashed to the floor, and Lorien gave a great "wooof" as the weight of Bird came down square on his chest. Then he passed out.

[ March 02, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-02-2003, 10:59 AM

Cami rushed forward to pry Bird out of the wreckage and help her sit down on a nearby chair. The hobbit scrutinized the fallen form still sprawled under the table, and saw all her hopes evaporate with Lorien's sudden demise. She turned frantically to Bird and whispered in her ear, "What have you done? I think you've killed a Vala."

"Him?" puzzled Bird, wrinkling her brow and laughing, for she had seen more barroom brawls than Cami ever had. "Don't worry. He'll be fine. Just give him a minute. He'll come to with nothing worse than a splitting headache." She prodded the body expertly with her toe, and grinned over at her friend. "Anyways, who says that he's a Vala?

"Pio. She introduced me when he first came to the Inn. He's someone named Lorien who's the Master of Dreams and lives in a fancy garden. In fact, he's the one who brought Frodo and Bilbo back from the West to visit the Shire." She pointed over by the bar where the two hobbits were standing together and drinking.

Bird rolled her eyes, and wondered silently if she should have gotten more sleep last night. Out loud, she replied, "Cami, hold on. I can only deal with one impossible situation at a time. Forget Lorien and Bilbo and Frodo for the moment. I want to understand exactly why you're here. When did you come, and will you be staying? What happened to your other family?"

Cami shook her head sadly and shrugged her shoulders, "That's the whole problem. I can't answer any of that, except to say I woke up in the Inn several months ago and have been working for Piosenniel ever since. I don't think I'm meant to stay here, but I don't know for sure. Something in my heart says my family is alright. That's all I can say. I was hoping that he could explain some of these things." She pointed towards the silent, recumbent figure. "But it looks as if he'll be under for a while."

Bird smiled and gave Cami a hug. "Just hold on, and he'll come through. I'm sure of it."

Then Bird looked around the room for Pio, hoping that the Elf could make some sense out of this strange situation.

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

piosenniel

03-02-2003, 03:57 PM

‘Look at him!’ snorted Amaranthas. ‘I always held that Men can’t hold their drink. But him! He’s worse than I ever imagined.’ She cackled gleefully at the figure of the drunken Lorien who sat propped up on his elbows at a nearby table, tapping his feet quite out of rhythm with the music.

Pio glanced at the Vala, thinking that at least he seemed quite out of commission and would not be causing any problems for the evening. She had successfully avoided him so far, and was hoping to do so until he took himself back to the Undying Lands. She smiled impishly to herself, and had just called a server over to deliver a large pitcher of the Green Dragon’s mead to Lorien, when Bird’s dramatic arrival occurred.

It was chaos and storm as usual. A grand Bird entrance, done with flair and panache. She knew her friend had probably not meant this to happen, but it was Bird’s doom to do life in a large manner. And Pio loved her for it!

Ignoring the fallen Vala, surely he was feeling no pain, considering the amount of drink he had consumed, she had had stepped over him, and sitting down next to her friend, gave her a bear hug. ‘Nice outfit! Looks good on you!’ she chuckled, brushing the lint from Lorien’s robes off it.

Bird had been astounded to find Cami at the Inn, and after her initial hug, Pio had stood by the pair, grinning like a Hobbit at the prospect of second breakfast, as they spoke to each other. Bird’s hand did not leave Cami’s arm once as they talked, thinking that if she did so Cami would prove only a figment of her weary mind and disappear.

Pio felt the touch of a hand on her own arm, as someone spoke to her.

‘Begging your pardon, Mistress Piosenniel,’ came the low voice, ‘but Cook says to tell you that the food is piping hot, and ready to be put out on the tables.’ Prim looked to where Cami and the new arrival were deep in conversation. ‘Do you think we might bring it out now, and you can get the dinner started?’ She pointed to the area of the common Room where the tables had been set up for the guests. One long table for the ‘elders’ and one for the children, with a convenient play area nearby. Prim came from a large family, and she knew that no matter how tempting the food might be, most of the younger ones would take a few bites and then want to run about.

‘Have you placed the name cards at the tables, Prim? The ones that Mistress Cami made? I know she wanted the guests seated in a certain way.’ Prim nodded her head ‘yes’, drawing Pio’s attention to the cards placed on each guest’s folded napkin. ‘Mistress Cami made some cards also for Master Tom and his wife, and also for Farmer Maggot and his.’

‘But, what shall we do with the new arrival?’ Prim asked, eyeing Bird in her outlandish costume with some distrust. ‘That is my dear friend, Bird.’ Pio laughed seeing Prim’s eyebrows rise in disbelief. ‘Let her sit at my place, across from Amaranthas. She knows Tom and Goldberry, already, and it would be quite interesting to see how she and Amaranthas take to one another.’ The two walked to where the dinner tables had been set up. Pio nodded toward the children’s table. ‘Just put me over there. I can entertain them for a while, and if the dinner becomes too insufferable we can play games to amuse ourselves.’

She hadn’t thought that Prim’s brows could rise any higher, but they did at this suggestion. ‘This is Cami’s night,’ she thought to herself, as she picked up the card from her napkin and placed it at the head of the children’s table. ‘Let her play hostess and enjoy herself among her old friends.’

Her eye caught the limp body of Lorien being carried by four of the servers back to her rooms. She had told them earlier just to put him on her bed, a bucket by his head in case his stomach rebelled at his first glorious foray into the realm of Shire spirits. ‘How inglorious an exit!’ she thought, making a mental note to give him something to settle his stomach and perhaps some willow bark tea for the impending headache when he awoke.

Pio went to the center of the room and clapped her hands together, saying in a loud voice that carried to the corners of the room:

‘Gentle guests! Cook has informed me that our dinner is now laid on the tables along the wall for us, and the casks and flagons at the drinks table have been refilled. Please gather round the tables and help yourselves. You will find cards laid on each napkin that will direct you where to sit.’

She turned, smiling, to where the children stood listening to her. ‘Come!’ she told them, waving them over with her hand. ‘You are all guests at my table. You older ones, if you will help the younger with their plates, we will go first to pick out what we want for supper.’ She overheard young Pippin wonder how much they had to eat before they could look at the dessert table.

Pio crouched down, and drew the children in close to her. ‘It is a party, you know. What say we eat dessert first?’

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

piosenniel

03-03-2003, 03:40 AM

Child's post

All the name cards were set in front of the plates on the tables, even those belonging to the children. The only one left was Lorien's which Cami tucked into her pocket in the unlikely event he awoke and rejoined them during dinner. Once Lorien had been hauled away to sleep off his excesses, Cami vowed to forget her worries and enjoy the evening to its fullest.

The sight of the buffet table did much to assuage her spirits. She was one of the first to bound up to it and get a close look at everything that had been set out for the guests. Cami had helped prepare many of the dishes, but even she was surprised to see the great variety of items. There were platters and bowls and baskets so loaded with food that it was spilling over onto the linen cloth.

Snap beans, field peas, fried turnips, crisp apples and pears, and an astounding array of berries shared one end of the buffet along with several meat dishes and some fresh-water fish. Among Cami's favorites were the little beef pasties and a fine haunch of venison, which sat next to a tasty suckling pig and a fat salmon stuffed with a savory dressing of herbs and onions and bread crumbs. At Cami's request, Prim had made a special tray of buttered scones with clotted cream. Sitting beside it were loaves of soda bread, pickled onions, bacon rashers, and two eel pies that boasted lovely chunks of eel and onions layered with carrots and finely chopped herbs, laid out in a golden pastry crust.

Finally came a whole array of mushroom dishes occupying almost a third of the board. There were mushrooms added to soups and stews, and others that had been stuffed and baked. And for those who preferred their fare straight and unadulterated, there were fresh, raw mushrooms from Farmer Maggot's garden.

Cami loaded up her plate with a sample of this and a bit of that and went to sit at the table. Bilbo was already seated next to her and starting in on his dinner. Frodo's name card was also nearby, but he was still in the buffet line, and likely to be there some time, as folk kept stopping by to chat.

Cami setled in her chair, then turned a beaming face towards her teacher, leaning over to share a hug and thanking him for the gown and note. Then she added, "I'll probably never wear such a fancy dress again. But it's so beautiful....I've never owned anything like this, never."

Bilbo's eyes sparkled back, and he whispered that she should only be careful not to wear the gown when Fatty was near.

"Uncle Bilbo!" she exclaimed. "I've straightened that out. Don't worry."

Bilbo glanced halfway down the table. He wasn't so sure from the look in Fatty's eye, but there was no reason to worry Cami at this point in the evening. Then he casually asked if Lorien had spoken with her. When Cami shook her head no, he politely steered their talk towards other topics. But, except for that one glitch, which she could not help but notice, Cami was thoroughly enjoying the dinner with its fine food and friendly conversation.

[ March 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

03-03-2003, 03:30 PM

It was a gaggle of wide-eyed and giggling youngsters that trailed after Pio to the food table. Past the vegetables, past the meats, past the breads, and even past the platters of fried mushrooms from Farmer Maggot’s farm they went. In their hands, firmly held, were their little plates, and they kept their eyes fixed on the Elf as she led them straight to the desserts, though occasionally one would cast a quick, bold glance toward his mother to check for her approval, then look away just as quickly with a grin, thinking how fun to have gotten away with something usually forbidden.

Pio motioned a server to bring over several chairs near the table, and bade the smaller children climb up on them to get a good look at the offerings. She took the plates from their little hands, and dished up a little of whatever they pointed out. Once down on the ground, she handed them their plates, reminding them to hold it carefully, and had them wait for the others to make their choices.

Holding Goldie’s plate for her, Pio led the hungry troop back to their table. Goldie clung to the folds of Pio’s dress, her eyes fixed in anticipation on the plate of chocolate pudding with crispy nut cookies in the Elf’s hand. In her other hand, Pio had a large pitcher of cold milk, and once the children were seated, she poured each of them a little mug and one for herself as well.

Spoons in hand, the hungry bunch was about to dig in, when Pio rapped on her mug with her spoon to draw their attention. Lifting her mug, she saluted them, saying ‘Mae govannen, my new friends! Well met! Enjoy!’ Their little voices returned the salute as they raised their own mugs to her. One tiny voice, Goldie’s rang clear at the end. ‘Puddin’, cookies!’ she said in delight, a large spoonful making its careful way to her waiting mouth.

Pio looked round the table, as the Hobbit lads and lasses tucked in to their food. ‘Anyone care to share something interesting they did today?’ She munched on her plate of fruits and sugared walnuts, looking round the group expectantly . . .

ArwenBaggins

03-03-2003, 03:34 PM

Elanor hesitantly lifted up her spoon of banana pudding, a pushed it slowly toward her mouth. Her big blue eyes scanned the room, especially near Pio. She put the spoon in her mouth, and dropped it onto her plate.

She swallowed her mouthful of pudding, and hastily wiped her napkin across her banana-smeared mouth. Hamfast, sitting on a wool blanket on the floor, giggled and picked up a handful of pudding. It was about to be flung at an unsuspecting guest walking by, but Elanor caught his chubby hand just in time. She whispered a word of discipline in his ear, and looked around in embarrassment.

Elanor looked around, making sure her mother wasn’t watching her. She started speaking in whispers, but just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Well, this mornin’ Momma made Frodo and I take care of the house because she didn’t feel well. She said that the baby kept her awake all night. Maybe it’s coming soon!" Hamfast pulled a lock of her curly golden hair, pulling her attention away from her mother and new sibling back to him.

[ March 03, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

Carrûn

03-03-2003, 03:59 PM

Frodo Gamgee remembered to clear his throat before speaking, eliminating the annoying sqeak that seemed to be creeping up on him recently.

"My sister and I had to help get everything ready. I had to give my brothers a bath; most of the water was out of the tub by the time they were finished - I think they did it on purpose." He glared towards Merry & Pippin who sat smirking over their pudding.

Returning to his own he dug in with a furvor. It was very good, and he was determined that his record would stand regardless of the competition of his siblings.

[ March 03, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

Nurumaiel

03-03-2003, 09:24 PM

Angelica looked across the table at Farmer Maggot, trying to decide whether or not she should speak with him. He didn't seem to be waiting for her, which made her continue the silence which felt (to her) very uncomfortable.

It was the same way with Merimac, looking uncomfortably at Maggot's wife. I suppose it would be more like a gentlehobbit to speak first, he thought. But she doesn't really look like she wants to talk with me…

"Why did we ever come here?" Angelica breathed in her husband's ear, low enough so nobody but he would hear. "I don't know if I should say something or not…"

"Just smile," Merimac whispered back. "That's polite enough for anyone, considering that it's your smile."

Angelica blushed prettily and smiled, but then her eyes became anxious. "I do hope Fosco is behaving himself," she said louder, but not too loud, so, if the Maggots (or anyone else wanted to) they could join in the conversation. "Merimac," her voice dropped to a whisper once more, "you should have seen those looks he was giving Goldilocks."

"I didn't, but I can imagine."

"Oh, and Merimac…" Angelica's voice trailed off, and then she said to everyone, "Would you please excuse us for a moment?" She took Merimac's arm and led him away from the table. "Merimac, dear, I do hope you don't mind."

"Don't mind what?"

"Well, I agreed to be midwife for Miss Piosenn - Pio."

"The Elf?"

"Yes, darling."

"But, Angelica! An Elf?"

"And I did it of my own free will," said Angelica firmly. "Now let's get back to the table before people get suspicious." She began leading him towards the table

"Suspicious?" Merimac covered his laughter with a cough. "Angelica, dear, I do believe you're nervous."

=== === === === === === ===

Fosco finished off the last bite of his chocolate pudding, still staring across the table at the young Pippin. What a funny kid, Fosco thought, but he didn't give any reason for his thinking it.

He looked up with a huge grin when the Elf at the head of the table asked what they had done that day. The 'delicious delights,' as he described them later to his mother, had put him in a good mood, and he was all for story-telling.

"Wanna hear what I did?" he said, and continued at Pio's nod. "Well, I was out making mud pies and Prisca came out, and I threw a big mud-ball at her!"

Silence.

"What do you think of that?"

More silence.

Fosco began to scowl. What was wrong with them? He looked at Goldilocks, sitting innocently across from his elder brother. I bet she bewitched them so they can't laugh, he thought.

Pio saw the look on his face and immediately spoke up. "That's very interesting, Fosco."

"Yeah, isn't it? She just cried and cried and cried 'cause mud was in her hair and all over her dress."

"Wasn't that rather mean of you?"

Fosco glared at Elanor. "Prisca deserves all the things I throw at her, even if it's mud?"

Everyone looked towards Prisca to see what her reaction to this was, but she didn't care. Her pudgy legs dangling over the edge of her chair and her beautiful curls shining in the light, she was happily finishing off the last of her pudding.

There was even more silence. Fosco's scowl returned. He looked at Goldilocks curls, and then down at his empty pudding bowl. Suddenly a devious light came into his eyes. "Miz Elf-lady - " he stopped long enough to glare at Madoc, who had begun to laugh " - may I have some more puddin', please?"

Pio hastened to oblige him. Even if he was a nightmare most of the time, he was very sweet at some times. Unfortunately the thoughts going through his head weren't even close to sweet. His eyes turned to look at Prisca's curls as he began to eat his pudding.

And then the little girl spoke for the first time that night. What she said was directed to her brother. "Fosco, stop eating like a pig. It's very rude and disgusting."

"I'm not a pig!" said Fosco. He picked up a big spoonful of his chocolate pudding, and hurled it across the table at Prisca. It hit her directly in the face. There was a loud howl from her, and Fosco stood up, looking grimly at her hair. It was plain to see what he had in mind.

piosenniel

03-04-2003, 03:55 AM

Not by chance had the children’s table been placed at some distance from the adults. Pio watched as Fosco let fly the pudding that hit his sister squarely in the face. And followed with some amusement as Prisca began to howl. It was evident to her what Fosco meant to do, and she wondered that Prisca did not take any action.

Pio put two fingers to her mouth and whistled sharply drawing the startled attention of the children. ‘Surely, Prisca,’ she said quite calmly as the little girl’s eyes fixed on hers, ‘you do not mean to sit there and howl, doing nothing while Fosco plans to rub your hair with pudding.’ Fosco smirked at his twin, knowing she was an easy victim.

‘Come here. And bring your plate of pudding with you.’ Pio motioned for Prisca to come sit with her. Fosco grinned thinking he had gotten his prissy little sister in trouble somehow. Pio sat the little girl on her lap and helped her gather up a large mound of pudding on her spoon. ‘Best to cry less and stop the problem at its source.’ She drew back the spoon in Prisca’s hands and helped her take aim. The gooey missile flew swiftly back toward Fosco, hitting him square in the forehead. His mouth flew open and he let out a surprised squawk. Only to have another blob from his brother Madoc hit him in the side of the head.

Madoc and Prisca were giggling loudly by then. Young Merry and Pippin, at first astounded at the flying pudding, began to giggle, too. Pippin flung a spoonful of pudding at Rosie, who being of tougher stuff than Prisca retaliated immediately, and with a whoop of triumph shot off two perfect hits at her younger brothers. And even Hamfast joined in, his pudgy little hands flinging handfuls of the sticky substance into the air.

Elanor and Frodo-lad looked aghast at the antics of their siblings, and would have put a firm end to it, save for the fact that Pio had by that time joined in the fun. ‘Come, girls!’ she cried, in a laughing voice, as Rosie and Prisca ran to her side. ‘I think we can take them.’ Shot after shot of pudding flew down the table at Fosco, Madoc, Merry, and Pippin. Quite by chance, Frodo-lad was hit with an errant missile, and Elanor made the mistake of laughing with glee as the sticky mess ran down his cheek, heading for his collar. Quietly and calmly he launched his own load of pudding at her, splattering it in a lovely starburst pattern on the front of her party dress.

The Great Pudding War had begun!

mark12_30

03-04-2003, 05:34 AM

Cautiously, Frodo Baggins edged over to the children's table til he stood behind Elanor. He need not have worried; all the children saw him come, and would not have dared aim at him. Elanor saw the children staring and turned to see who it was.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, sir..." she said, horrified thta he was there to witness the condition of her dress.

"If you're going to laugh, " Frodo said seriously, "then you must anticipate the consequences. Surely you see the wisdom in that?"

Elanor hung her head and blushed crimson.

"Therefore, " Frodo counselled her further with great seriousness, "You must think ahead, anticipate your adversary's response, and form a defense against it, before he has a chance to act. Strategy is very important. You must have a plan."

Elanor's eyes grew wide, and she looked back up at Mr. Frodo again. She was aware that pudding was flying in several directions, but since no-one dared hit her with Frodo right there, she had a moment extra to think. And so she carefully grasped her glass of apple cider, and then thoughtfully reached far over and-- since it was full still-- helped herself to Piosenniel's cider as well. Pio shot her an indignant glance, but Elanor stood, and faced Frodo-lad.

Piosenniel's cider washed over Frodo-lad's face, and he spluttered indignantly (although it did help rinse away some of his pudding.) In one smooth motion, Elanor put Piosenniel's glass down, and picked up her plate. She managed to grasp it by the edge and hold it up rather like a shield, and still have one hand free for her own glass of cider. So when Frodo-lad's cider came flying at her, she deflected the lion's share of it with the plate, and then launched another volley at him.

She heard Mr. Frodo's satisfied chuckle behind her, and felt immensely pleased with herself-- until Piosenniel avenged her glass of cider by grinding several gooey brownies into her hair.

"Sometimes hidden alliances are formed, and action against one may bring claims of grievance or acts of retribution from one previously considered neutral, " Frodo intoned solemnly.

"Grievance? Retribution? She stole my cider!" Pio exclaimed, in a tone of injured dignity.

Laughing, Frodo danced out of the way of a cookie aimed at his head. Mind your temper, my Lady Piosenniel, Frodo thought.

Just you wait! Piosenniel shook a cookie at him. Frodo withdrew into the company of adults again, and continued his interrupted conversation.

[ March 04, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

dragoneyes

03-04-2003, 12:09 PM

Diamond was watching the pudding war with a hint of horror in her eyes, thinking of all the cleaning that would have to be done once it was over. "Do you think we should go get Faramir?" she asked Pippin, who had a smile on his face, obviously remembering some similar incident he himself had had. "Certainly not!" said Pippin, "Let them be, it's not up to us to look after him for once so enjoy it while you can." Diamond saw the logic in this and tried to put it out of her mind and finish eating.

Pippin suddenly remembered something that he'd meant to talk to Merry about earlier, but it had completely slipped his mind with all the excitement of Frodo, Bilbo, Tom and everyone. He leaned forward, looking towards Merry, "Merry," he said getting his attention, "I've been meaning to talk to you about some rumours I've been hearing recently, about men crossing the borders into the Shire." Merry nodded, "Apparently they've got one in one of them in the Lockholes in Hobbiton, a particularly scruffy looking man they say he is. Have you heard, or even seen anything in Buckland?"

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-04-2003, 12:56 PM

Merry had been watching the Great Pudding War with some amusement out of the corner of his eye, since it reminded him a bit of his younger days. Buckland Hall was always a veritable beehive of raucous activity with so many burrows tucked in under a common roof. Even as a tiny hobbit, he could remember his older cousin Frodo leading a charge in the main hall with an armful of soft, ripe fruits. So it didn't surprise Merry in the slightest that Frodo would be giving out tactical advice on getting the edge on an opponent.

Pippin's pointed remarks about the undercurrent of nasty rumors quickly pulled his attention back to more serious matters. Usually, if there was any trouble headed for the Shire, Buckland was the first to hear about it. Nine times out of ten, it was some nasty business hatched in Bree or even further up the way that slipped down the Great East Road, coming first into Buckland and then the Marish or East Farthing.

Merry nodded his head in agreement, "I heard some of those rumors too, but didn't put stock in them till recently. A few days ago, my cousins Doderic and Celandine Brandybuck spoke with me. They both swore there were some strange big folk sneaking about in Buckleberry and peering into hobbit windows. That's hard for me to believe, but Doderic and his sister are trustworthy, so I can't discount what they're saying."

Merry shook his head, "Yet it just doesn't make sense! What could big folk want in the Shire? There's not a lot of jewels or fine riches, the kind of treasures you'd find in Gondor or among the Elves. But you're right to mention it to me, Pippin. We both need to keep an eye on things like that."

"I think the Shirriffs are already on the lookout," Pippin noted. "That's probably how they captured this scruffy fellow in Hobbiton."

"Now don't believe everything you hear. That could be a hobbit who laid on one too many ales who's just spreading tales," Merry retorted.

Fatty Bolger had been quietly listening to their conversation for some time, and now piped up to add his own thoughts. "If you ask me," he growled, "it's probably true. You can't trust big folk." Here he lowered his voice. "Everyone knows that. If they're so trustworthy, then why do we have a law saying they can't set foot in the Shire?"

Fatty leaned over the table conspiratorily in the direction of his two friends. "You'd best keep your voices down on this. Seems to me we've got two big folk at this party, to say nothing of this Elf whom my Aunt Amaranthas says is supposed to be married to some Man. I wouldn't trust that one as far as I could throw her." Fatty jerked his thumb in the direction of Bird. For all we know, she could be in cahoots with them."

Merry shook his head, "Fatty, I think you're seeing shadows in closets. Not every one of the big folks is a bad person. Come on now. You know that. Look at King Elessar."

"Say what you want," Fatty grumbled, "but most of them can't be trusted. Just look at what happened to me in the Locks! Better to have some Men locked up there than any more hobbits. As far as I'm concerned, they can toss that Bird lady in too, and just throw away the key."

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

Cami had been sitting quietly listening to Merry and Pippin's conversation with only half an ear. She'd been glad Pio hadn't overheard the hobbits' comments about roving big folk up to no good, as she might be worried about Mithadan who was travelling alone. It was only when Fatty Bolger started making his views known about Men, and Elves who marry Men, that Cami began to concentrate seriously on the discussion and became quite upset.

"Enough Fatty," she hissed back at him through clenched teeth. "You're my friend, but you don't know what you're talking about when you describe Bird like that!"

This was an ironic situation. Fatty would not be sitting here airing his opinions in the comfort of the Shire, if it weren't for the sacrifices of Bird and Mithadan, as well as the hard work and skilled swordplay of the Rangers down through many years. Yet he wasn't even aware of any of that.

Fatty leaned closer to Cami, like an uncle addressing a wayward child. He put his hand on her arm, and patted it gently. "No, you're the one who's confused. If you'd been in the Locks as I was, you'd see what most Men are like. Then you'd understand why we worked so hard, all of us, to get that new law passed, the one against Men setting foot in the Shire.

Cami felt a wave or irritation and dislike rise inside her head. She abruptly stood by the edge of the table, clenching her fists in a ball, knuckles white with anger. With great effort, she struggled to keep her composure, answering in a voice that was low, but icy and unflinching. "You're the one who's talking out of the side of your mouth, Fatty Bolger. There are folk in this room who aren't hobbits, yet who've given more to our people than you'll ever know. And don't tell me I can't recognize a bad man when I see him. I've known men who would make Saruman's agents look like nursemaids." She remembered back to the Tombs of Numenor.

"Anyways, whatever you call that law, it's a bad thing. There are good men and bad men, just as there are good and bad hobbits. The Shirriffs, and Thains, and Mayors, the folk in charge, should be ashamed to have suppored a law like that."

With those words of indignation, she scooped up her green skirts and stepped back from the table. "If you'll excuse me,....." she whispered to no one in particular. Then she walked purposefully towards the kitchen, opening the door to the garden, and went outside in the back.

Cami stood there a few minutes, breathing hard, and trying to catch her breath. She heard the door leading to the garden open and close again, then looked up to see Frodo staring at her with a funny look in his eye.

Cami knew she should have handled the situation differently, but she didn't want to hear that just now. "I know, I know, Frodo, I just insulted half the hobbits in that room, and they're my guests. Especially with that remark about mayors and thains. But I can't help how I feel. Wrong is wrong, and truth is truth. What kind of a hobbit goes and sticks his head inside a hole, afraid to look out and talk with anyone else who's different than himself. That's just the kind of thing that Gandalf used to hate. He always said the Free folk had to learn to cooperate." She stared at her feet in frustration.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Carrûn

03-04-2003, 02:44 PM

Frodo-lad was somewhat surprised at how easy it was for him to decide to throw the pudding at his sister after she decided to laugh at the state of his clothes. His smirk of sastisfaction turned to a blank, stunned expression as he turned to find Elanor tilting a very large bowel of pudding over his head. Within a few seconds he had obtained a new hat and pudding was all over his hair.

He slowly removed the bowel from his head. "Hrm. I'm hungry," he commented, refilling the bowel. Turning back to his sister his grinned. "It fits you better." He proceeded to "crown" her in simliar fashion, then dodging around to a somewhat protected corner of the table, launched missiles at any who came within his aim.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

ArwenBaggins

03-04-2003, 02:55 PM

Elanor looked down at her blue dress, now dark brown. "Frodo!!" She said under her breath, picking up a bowl of pudding. She crept behind him with a smirk on her embarrassed face.

"Frodo! I have to tell you something!" She lied. Her brother spun around, to see a large bowl of pudding towering over his head.

Elanor giggled evilly, and raised the bowl higher. The other children paused their pudding slinging for just a moment to gawk at Elanor. She slowly turned the bowl upside down, flipping pudding all over her younger brother’s hair. She placed the bowl like a hat on his head, turning it around to get all of the pudding out of the bowl and onto his hair.

[ March 04, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

Orual

03-04-2003, 06:36 PM

Sam had been thinking for a while when dinner began. He snapped out of his reverie and went over to his wife, who was sitting in her chair, rocking Hamfast, who had begun to fuss. Rose smiled as he approached, and cocked her head towards the sleeping child. "Are you ready to eat?" Sam asked quietly, slipping his hands under his son to pick him up.

Rose shook her head at Sam's attempts. "I've got him. Yes, I'm ready--help me up, won't you?" She gave her husband her free arm, and he pulled her up. She staggered a little bit, then laughed. "It'll be none too soon when this child comes," she exclaimed. Hamfast woke up at that, but, rested, he simply stared around the room and did not fuss. Rose handed him to Elanor, and went with Sam to the adult table.

Once he made sure that his children were settled at the children's table, he took his own seat in between Rose and Goldberry. He couldn't help but glance over to Frodo, who was speaking with the guests around him. Rose put an hand on her husband's arm. "Torn in two," she whispered, and Sam knew immediately what she meant.

"Always," Sam replied, equally quietly, with a little smile. He gripped his wife's hand.

"Promise me that you'll talk to him after dinner's over, and stop moping," Rose murmured, picking up her fork and pretending to eat. She glanced at Sam, who was watching her not eat. "Lost my appetite," she said as an explanation.

Sam had not, though, and was enjoying the dinner, for the food if nothing else. He spoke with Pippin for a while, as well as Goldberry and Fatty Bolger, while Rose chatted with Diamond and glanced once or twice at the children's table. Suddenly she gave a hoot of laughter, loud enough to make Sam and several of the other guests close to them to turn and look. She pointed to the children's table, and Sam grinned at the lovely mess that was taking place. At least his children were having fun.

"Cleaning up tonight won't be fun," he warned Rose.

"I know that," she said. "But they're having a good time. Let children be children."

Sam shook his head, amused and bewildered, as Elanor poured a bowl full of pudding on her brother's head. "What a party," he said.

Rose Cotton

03-04-2003, 07:27 PM

Watching the pudding fight was very entertaining to Rosie who for a moment was content eating her pudding rather then tossing it. That was until two globs of it hurdled into her from Merry and Pippin. Rosie made two exellent shots back to her brothers and was officialy brought into the fray.

Hurridly she grabed her plate and went to Pio and Prisca's side where they flung pudding at the boys.

As Rosie's ammo ran low she cast her eyes about for a new weapon. Sitting peacefully back at the dessert table was an apple pie. Grabbing it she flung the entire pie at Frodo. However, Frodo had seen the dessert coming and had ducked in time for it to strike Elanor. Rosie went into a fit of giggles at the sight of her sister dripping with apples.

mark12_30

03-04-2003, 08:09 PM

"Once, long ago, I told Gandalf that I used to think an invasion of dragons or an earthquake would be good for the Shire, " Frodo reminisced. "At the time I was beginning to realise that I was going to have to leave it. "

Cami waited, knowing the story, bracing herself for a lecture. Yes, yes, Saruman's men had acted like dragons, and had torn up the trees like an earthquake or worse. She wished for patience.

"And then I did leave it, " Frodo said. "And Cami, so did you."

"Yes, " Cami snapped. "I went to Minas Tirith, where I learned that not all men breathe fire and devour trees."

"It's a beautiful city. And a nice place to hold a wedding." Frodo put his hands in his pockets, and glanced out the window towards Bag End. "Such a beautiful wedding."

Cami watched him from under her eyelashes, waiting.

"And such a strange wedding. A day of joy, and sacrifice. A day of gladness, tinged with parting, and division of families-- forever. Almost like a twisting of time, for Elrond and Arwen."

Cami could not bring herself to feel sorry for Arwen. "She got what she wanted."

Frodo nodded, with an odd twinkle in his eye. "She did." Then he sobered. "But it has been hard on Elrond, and on Galadriel. And it was harder still, I think, on Celebrian."

"Celebrian?"

"Yes. She waited four centuries over the sea for her family to join her, and when Elrond finally came, he brought the news that Arwen would never come." Frodo looked down. "I had never-- well, it surprised me."

"What?"

"I had never seen Elrond weep until the day he gave Celebrian the news."

Cami stirred impatiently. Elrond was reunited with Celebrian; his daughter was happy in her marriage and Elrond should be happy about that. Cami shoved such thoughts aside, and returned to the gossip at hand. "Frodo, it angers me deeply that the Shire wants all big folk to stay away. Big folk have saved the Shire from so many perils. Couldn't they at least be grateful?"

"I know what you mean, " Frodo sighed. "And yet, Cami, isn't it partly to protect their innocence, that so many have fought so hard?"

"Innocence is one thing, and narrow-mindedness and ungratefulness is another, " Cami growled.

"Did it seem narrow-minded when you lived here?"

"Yes! Whenever somebody criticised Bilbo."

"You loyal friend."

"I try to be, " Cami replied heatedly. "And that's why I feel so strongly about defending the Big Folk who have done so much for me, so very much. And for the whole Shire."

"For a while, they were your family, weren't they; and The Lonely Star was your home. Before that, your home was in Minas Tirith. And you made a home of sorts in Ladros, and even in the Numenorean caves. And now you've made a home in Greenwood. Years of wandering with a few rests, and settling in foreign countries as best you can; you're even more uprooted than I am, " Frodo said, and met her eyes. "Where is your heart, Cami? What place does your heart call home?"

Don't ask me, Cami thought resentfully. Don't you dare ask me. It's not where, it's when and with whom; and every time I think I've closed the wound some meddling busybody pries it open again; leave me alone!

Still gazing deep into her eyes, Frodo nodded. "I thought so. Cami, I know in a way what that is like. My home is with Bilbo, however I feel torn apart from Sam and Merry and Pippin. And I spent years, long years separated from him, Cami, wanting to find him again more than anything. In that way Bilbo is my home, and not The Shire."

"I have children to look after, " Cami said defiantly. "I have Rose, and Gamba and the boys."

"Yes, I know, " Frodo replied. "But what I asked you was, where your heart calls home. And I think that answer is a little different."

Several defiant replies fought for position in Cami's mind, but Frodo gently turned, and left.

As he was walking back to the common room, he placed one last thought in Cami's mind. "Amdir and Estel are two different things, Cami; Estel is higher. Of the two, it may be the more difficult flower to grow, but it is the sweeter, and the longer lasting. It tells us that all things are bent towards the Music, and in the end, the harmony will be clear."

Cami went to the window after Frodo had left, and stared out of it towards the West. Harmony.

This is harmony? she asked. I can't make out a single note. It sounds like mere noise.

[ March 06, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-04-2003, 08:22 PM

Cami had returned to the party, cautiously peering about to make sure that Sam and Meriadoc and Peregrine and Fatty weren't waiting for her with a broom or, more likely, some very sharp comments. But as Cami walked in back of their chairs, none of them gave any indication that they were upset with her in the slightest. In fact, Fatty came over and patted her affectionately on the back, inquiring solicitously about her health. They were apparently taking her words as no more than an eccentric response from someone who'd been absent from the Shire too long.

Sitting down at the table, Cami found herself watching the children's food-fight with a mild sense of discomfort. Why should that be? Maybe because she was still upset about the encounter with Fatty and the whole question about prohibiting Men from the Shire? Even Frodo had extended his blessing of approval to the childrens' antics. Merry and Pippin were staring intently with grins of remembrance plastered on their faces, while Bilbo basically ignored the fracas, shutting out the sight and sound of the little ones by concentrating on his dinner plate.

And then it hit her. She was from a different place where wasting food was an unthinkable thing to do. She'd lived in camps, with hobbit prisoners reduced to eating whatever they could lay their hands on, especially with the snows of winter. Even now, in Greenwood, it was a challenge to gather the food she needed to fill her children's stomachs. No one starved, yet there were times when the soup in dinner pots looked thin and watery.

She wondered how her own children would have responded to the food-fight. Little Maura and Ban would probably wade into the fray and hurl pudding with abandon. But the new Gamba, flanked by his boys and perhaps even Rose, would not have participated or approved. They would have pulled their younger siblings over, or perhaps even tried to intercede and halt the mayhem.

Banana pudding? There were no bananas where she lived, and no dwarf caravans to bear such delicacies from the south. Party clothes? If a child was fortunate enough to own a fancy dress or breeches, they would have done everything possible to keep it clean, since it was basically irreplacable and would need to be passed on to younger siblings and cousins.

And Maura? Her Maura? How would he have felt? As a stranger in someone else's territory, he probably wouldn't have tried to stop things, but neither did Cami think he would have approved. Yet she was not absolutely certain. That thought burned her heart. The Maura in her head might have changed a good deal since she'd left him and she'd have no way of knowing that.

There was, however, one thing about which she was perfectly sure. With his love of the Edain, Maura would have pulled Fatty privately aside and attepted to talk sense into him. Nor would Maura have liked the new law prohibiting Men from entering the Shire.

Indeed, if Maura had ever met Mithadan, Cami thought he would have instinctively respected his quiet compassion and wry humor. Maura would probably have felt more comfortable with Mithadan than with a hobbit like Fatty who had few dealings with Men or Elves and instinctively distrusted them. Cami knew many hobbits in the Shire were still suspicious of anyone who was different, a fact which she was coming to regret.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Birdland

03-05-2003, 01:31 AM

Bird sat, surrounded by Hobbits, a smile frozen on her face as a pudding missile sailed past her ear and splatted on the bar front. The bench she sat on was Halfling sized, a comfortable seat for Farmer Maggot and the tiny gammer seated across from her, but Birdie's knees were folded up practically under her chin, and she had to bend around them to reach her plate or goblet. She had not asked for a higher chair, feeling that to do so would in some way draw attention to her (relative) height, and make her stand out.

But it was not the size of the bench that made Bird's shoulders tense. She was acutely aware that she was breaking the very laws of the Shire by being here, and from the covert looks that were being shot at her from the round, middle-aged Halfling to her left, others were aware of it as well.

Bird knew it was only by the grace of Cami and Pio that she was sitting here, and that the Halflings - though small and known for their light-heartedness - could be formidable when it came to protecting their borders from "outsiders". Bird had not forgotten Lindo and Maura at the seige of Gondolin, and her usually sharp tongue was held in firm check as the children's arsenal expanded into the cider and frumenty.

She studiously ignored the hissed whispers being flung back and forth across the table, and was trying to concentrate on her plate, but the sharp, black eye of the tiny halfing in front of her, (Amarante? Emeranta?), caught her attention. The skinchanger raised her wine glass and nodded across the table to the matriarch. "Your children are quite charming, and seem to be enjoying the party throughly. Are any of these your grandchildren?"

Amaranthas gave a loud snort "Hah! These brats? I'd not claim a one of them. You'd never see children of my generation, those who lived through the Fell Winter, wasting food in such a manner."

Then quick as lightening, Amaranthas stood up and lobbed a grape swiftly across the room, clipping Frodo-Lad soundly on the ear. Then she sat down again and whispered across to Bird; "Of course, the Fell Winter was quite a few years back."

Birdie threw back her head and laughed out loud, drawing another disgruntled look from Fatty Bolger.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

piosenniel

03-05-2003, 03:50 AM

The floor was awash with pudding. Chocolate and vanilla ran amok between the stickier blobs of tapioca. Pio had crouched down, rather ungracefully, near a particularly treacherous area where Goldie had lost her footing and plunged down onto her chubby, dimpled knees. The little lass’ face had puckered up, and she was on the verge of a wail, when Pio reached down and stood her upright.

‘Look here, Goldie,’ the Elf said, scraping a bit of tapioca from Goldie’s knee, ‘this looks exactly like little frog eyes, does it not?’ Goldie hiccupped, with a long, wavering intake of breath, and turned her attention to the bumpy fragment of cream colored goo. She reached her chubby little finger out and tentatively touched the translucent bubbles clustered in the blob. ‘Froggies!’ she cried in delight, clinging onto Pio’s sleeve for support. ‘And look here, Goldie. I believe I have discovered another interesting use for pudding.’

Pio reached down and placed the flat of her palms in the pudding smears – one in the chocolate and one in the vanilla, then carefully printed the pudding hands onto the fabric of her dress. Placed palms together and fingers outspread, the imprints took on the tenuous shapes of brown and white butterflies. She helped the little one place her baby flutter-bys trailing after her own big one.

‘Pretty Pio!’ laughed Goldie, clapping her hands together, sending spatters of brown and white flying.

They had done just one little butterfly on Goldie’s dress, when Pio felt a looming presence behind her, and a discrete, but firm, ‘Ahem!’ Wiping her hands on the edge of her skirts, she stood up, turning to face a very exasperated looking Prim, with several wide-eyed servers behind her.

‘Was there something I might do for you?’ she asked the Innkeeper.

Prim looked at her sternly, fixing her with the same gaze she had given her younger brothers and sisters when they had done wrong. Pio wiped a bit of chocolate from her face with the back of her hand, leaving a large smear on her cheek. She waited patiently for the lecture she was sure to ensue.

Prim’s shoulders began to shake, and an odd sound, like the squeaking of little mice at play began. She put her hands on her knees and bent over double, then, and loud guffaws began to roll hysterically from her. The servers looked at her in astonishment, not knowing if the sea of now crusting pudding had pushed her quite over the edge. Prim stood up, shaking her head, an amused smile on her face.

‘Oh, Mistress Piosenniel! I never expected such behavior from one of the Fair Folk.’ Prim turned to Ruby and Buttercup, who now stood at her side. ‘Get the mops and buckets, and a few rags. Let’s get this mess cleared up before it dries hard as paste.’ She glanced up at Pio, a calculating look in her eye. ‘I’m certain Miz Pio will have a little extra something for you, for cleaning up after these rascals’ antics.’

Pio grinned back at her, and nodded her head at the two reluctant servers. ‘Five silver pennies each if this corner is spic and span, and six more to split among you, if one of you will see Cook and bring to my rooms a heaping platter of hot buttered toast fingers, a pot of strawberry jam, and a pitcher of cold milk to wash it down with . . . oh, and an apple or three or four, too, please!’

She counted noses as they headed back to the room. Ten sticky children trailed after her. Pio held up her hand to stop them, and counted them again. There was one missing! Pippin and Diamond’s son was nowhere to be seen. ‘Any one seen young Faramir?’ she asked her bedraggled troop. Ten sticky faces, eyes wide, shook their heads solemnly ‘no’.

Hamfast, held securely, in Elanor’s arms, wiggled vigorously and pointed back toward the table. Elanor put him down and he toddled over to the long tablecloth that hung begrimed over the sides and end of the table. He picked up the end of the cloth and bent down, looking for something under the table. They heard his screech of delight, and the muffled sounds of someone saying ‘Peek-a-boo!’

Then out from his safe haven came young Faramir, as clean as when he had first sat down to eat his pudding. His empty bowl was in his hand, and a nut cookie dangled from his lips, as he stood up and faced the others. ‘I gather it’s safe now,’ he said, taking the cookie from his mouth, and smiling impishly.

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

‘Excellent choice of tactics, Master Faramir!’ Pio looked down at her own dress and sighed. ‘Perhaps I should look to you next time the battle fever is upon us!’ Faramir puffed with pride at this adulation from the Elf, and when she asked him would he go to Miz Prim and ask for a stack of towels, he ran like the wind to do her bidding.

Boys and girls were separated into two groups, and the girls, under the direction of Elanor and Rosie were sent into the bathroom to clean themselves as best they could, and wipe what they could from their dresses. The ‘men’ as Pio called them would follow her out to the stable yard and use the pump to sluice off their hands and heads. ‘Young, hardy warriors,’ she termed them, ‘washing off in the waterfall of some eastern river after a valiant fight against the orcs.’ Young Merry and Pippin snickered at the thought of their sisters as orcs, as Faramir pumped the water for them. And Pio reminded them that from the girls’ point of view, the boys were the marauding orcs who had been defeated by them. ‘It’s all a matter of which side you are coming from.’ she said, as she toweled Pippin’s hair dry. Faramir laughed, agreeing with her. ‘From where I sat,’ he said, ‘you all looked like mad orcs!’

Soon a more presentable group of children was gathered in Pio’s front room. Toast fingers piled high with jam and washed down with milk were eagerly consumed, as Pio dragged out her souvenirs of the adventurous life for them to handle and look at and ask curious questions of where she had gotten each one. There were shells of all sizes from the shores along the Sundering Sea, and curious necklaces and pendants, and feathers dropped by birds never seen in the Shire. The old yellowed tooth of a great wolf of the North, was handled quite carefully as Pio told the story of finding it. And rocks, beautiful rocks and plain, all with their different stories of how they came to be in the Elf’s possession.

Frodo-lad, along with the other boys, and Rosie-lass, too, were thrilled when Pio brought out her weapons. Wrapped in a piece of oiled leather was her sword and scabbard, and in a small chest, gleaming in the lamplight as she opened it were her silvered helm, and mithril shirt. She let them all try on her vambraces, and heft the sword, though it took three of them to lift the point from off the ground. Each of them handled her long knives, pretending they were Hobbit sized swords, and Frodo-lad she let strap on her throwing knives to his arms. The only things she shifted from their sight were the two cords, the garrotes – too gruesome, she deemed them, for children to think on.

Finally, when all had been looked at and oohed and aahed over, and sleepy eyes and yawns were becoming the norm, she laid out several quilts in front of the small, cheery blaze in the fireplace and bade them lie down as she told them stories from long, long ago. Backlit by starlight from the open window behind her, her voice moved softly over them, and one by one, from youngest to oldest they closed their eyes and slipped off to their own dreams.

She sat quietly in the dark until their parents came to claim them, and a smile lit her features as she looked out the window and imagined a small island, under a bright moon, sleeping forms turning in dreams much as these Hobbits here. And over them all, her eye lovingly upon them, the great dragon of the mountain top sat crooning, softly.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

03-05-2003, 03:54 AM

Farmer Maggot and the Missus were the first to leave, saying it was a long way back to the Marish, and they’d best be getting themselves and Fang home before the night was completely past. Cami offered them a room at the Inn, so that they could start out tomorrow morning, rested. But they both declined, saying they’d sleep much better in their own bed, under their own roof. They made the rounds, saying good bye to the people they’d met just that evening and to Merry and Pippin and to Fatty. Then to Sam and Frodo and last of all Bilbo. ‘I don’t know how long you’ll be staying,’ he said to Frodo, clapping him on the back, ‘but I’ll have one of my boys come round in the next day or so and deliver a basket of mushrooms.’ They climbed aboard their wagon, settling Fang in comfortably on an old blanket between them, and with one last wave they were off down the Great East Road.

Tom and Goldberry followed close behind them. It was not often, or ever, that they left the borders of their country, and they would not tarry longer here than needed. Their footsteps were light as they hurried East, toward the Old Forest, and the overhanging hill brow of the Downs where the Withywindle bubbled down in falls.

For a long while, their voices could be heard, drifting back on the night breezes to the Inn. Tom’s merry voice rang out, lightening the hearts of all who listened:

Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o,
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?

Then Goldberry’s voice followed, weaving in the next verse, as clear and clean as a Spring freshet follows the melting snow:

Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle!
Tom's going on ahead candles for to kindle.
Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping.
When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,
Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow.
Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!
Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you.
Hey now! merry dol! We'll be waiting for you!

Fatty Bolger said his goodbyes to his dear friends, and especially to Cami, reminding her that she was more than welcome to bring her friends and visit in Budgeford any time. Then he too was off, along the Water to Bridgefields in the Eastfarthing.

The Muddyfoots picked up their sleeping trio from Pio’s rooms, and said their whispered good byes to her, Angelica promising that she would get together soon with Miz Pio to make plans, and that she would bring Peony with her. ‘Amaranthas,’ offered Merimac to the elder Hobbit who now stood at Pio’s side, ‘would you like to ride home with us? We can see you safely to your door.’ Pio smiled, and thanked Merimac for the kind offer, but she had made arrangements for Miz Amaranthas to stay with her tonight, and she would take her back home tomorrow.

Amaranthas took Angelica aside as Pio spoke with Merimac, saying how glad she was that Angelica had decided to be midwife. She surprised Angelica no end, then, by inviting her to come round some afternoon and have some tea and seed cake with her.

Having said their farewells, Pippin and Diamond retrieved the sleeping Faramir, and turned their cart westward toward Tuckburough, and the Great Smials. Merry and Estella waved to them as they parted company on the main roadway, after extracting promises from them, that they would bring Faramir and come for a long visit soon. ‘And Pip,’ cried Merry, just as his friend flicked the reins and headed off, ‘remember to bring those new chapters you’ve worked up to the “Tale of Years”. I’ve found some new information on Tar-Minyatur that you’ll find interesting.’

Sam and his Rose were the last ones to go. Sam and Pio carried the sleeping Gamgees to the cart and nestled them in like peas in a pod. Hamfast was handed up to Rose, and bundled in a warm blanket for the ride home. Pio promised she would come up to Bag End for a visit, and Sam lingered, speaking with Frodo and Bilbo, before climbing up to the seat beside his wife. He was loath to go, but Rose needed to go home to rest, and with a certain reluctance, he turned his wagon westward and headed toward Hill Lane and the Hill.

piosenniel

03-05-2003, 03:58 AM

The others had gone to bed. Amaranthas was tucked into the spare room in Pio’s quarters, a down quilt pulled up to her chin despite the warmth of the summer evening. “My old joints need to be kept warm if I don’t want them freezing up on me.’ was what she had told Pio when she requested extra covers. Her head had barely touched the pillow when the old dear’s eyelids fluttered heavily and she turned to her side and fell fast asleep.

That left the front room, with a couch and two mattresses on the floor, for the repose of Pio and Bird, as Lorien continued to sleep soundly and loudly in Pio’s bed. ‘Who knew the Vala snored?’ said Pio, as Bird raised her eyebrows at one particularly loud series of snorts and half gasps issuing from behind the closed door.

‘Shall we check on him?’ asked Bird. ‘Be my guest,’ returned the Elf, ‘I am going out to the bar to retrieve a bottle of something interesting to drink. Shall I bring two glasses?’

‘Make that three glasses, and a couple of bottles, Pio.’ came the weary voice of Cami just pushing the door open. She flopped down on one of the mattresses, her feet toward the fire, and her back resting against the couch. She looked toward the closed door to Pio’s bedroom. ‘I don’t suppose there is any chance he’s awake, and able to answer questions, is there?’

‘You and Bird see to him, maybe he has come round. Drag him out here if you want, we can sit and watch for him to waken while we kill a bottle or two and catch up with each other . . .’

Child of the 7th Age

03-05-2003, 07:20 AM

The Vala was still asleep. However, it was a kind of sleep that didn’t look very restful. Instead of lying still, Lorien was twitching and flipping, with occasional grunts and groans, his eyelids fluttering spasmodically but never completely pulling open. Was it possible for the Master of Dreams to be a victim of his own visions? Cami wasn't sure, but she was curious. She nudged Bird and asked, “Do you think we could drag him over?”

“ Probably so. He may be restless, but he’ll be out for a while.”

Working together, they managed to wiggle the mattress off the bed with some difficulty, tugging it awkwardly along the floor. Lorien slept on, oblivious to the fact that his sleeping mat was moving. He eventually fell off the mattress, so they left him dumped in the corner of the room, then sat down to share a glass of wine and talk. It was the first time that Cami had been able to say anything to Bird, beyond the fleeting words they’d exchanged when she flew in through the window. The women sat on the floor and chatted, emptying out two wine bottles, and spending a good deal of time laughing.

This had gone on for nearly two hours. Then, Pio and Bird began discussing things they’d uncovered from their early researches on the shapechangers. Cami found it difficult to follow the complicated ins and outs, and, too tired to listen closely, retreated over to where Lorien slept. Cami stared at him and distastefully wrinkled her nose. The evening hadn't turned out to be quite as memorable as she had hoped. Cami felt that much of the blame for this should go to Lorien. She'd spent half the party trying to wheedle answers out of him, and the other half in a foul mood worrying about a variety of things. There had been a few nice moments in between when she'd talked with friends and ate dinner. Still, she might have been less upset if Lorien hadn't left her hanging.

“Pio, do you think it’s alright if I try and wake him? I’d like to know what he wanted to tell me.”

The Elf looked up and shrugged her shoulders, “Suit yourself. But I doubt you’ll have much luck.”

Cami felt a strong urge to lean over the sleeping Vala and yell as loudly as she could into one of his ears. She resisted this temptation and began tapping him on the arm. This did not accomplish anything, so she tried gently shaking his shoulders, and finally resorted to punching him in the ribcage. But there was still no response from the sleeper. Desperate and grouchy, and tired to the point of exhaustion, Cami leaned directly over his body and shrieked at the top of her lungs, "Lorien, Lorien, you said you had something to tell me. It's Cami. Please wake up!

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Mithadan

03-05-2003, 10:10 AM

Lorien's eyes opened wide suddenly and he sat up quickly, which proved to be unwise. He shut his eyes tight and swayed for a moment, steadying himself against a chair with his hands. Then, with a grimace, he opened one eye slowly and peered at Cami. "Must you shout?" he asked weakly.

He shook his head as Pio rushed over with a cup of tea poured from a pot which had been resting on a table. Lorien accepted the cup gratefully, missing it on his first attempt to grasp it, and took a long sip. Then he attempted unsuccessfully to stand. Embarrassed, he said, "It seems that this body is not obeying my wishes at the moment. Would you please help me up?"

The three grasped him firmly and helped him into a chair. The Vala sank into the cushions with a groan and held his head in his hands. "What happened?" he moaned. "I recall that charming party and the savory drinks that Mistress Prim was serving. And I recall Tom and...pardon me for a moment. I just remembered something." He closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate. Then he smiled impishly and turned back to Cami and her friends...

--------------------

Fatty Bolger lay fast asleep in his feather bed, exhausted by the long evening. Then his eyes fluttered under their lids and his tossed and turned a bit as the dream came to him.

He was in the Green Dragon again and there was another party taking place. Everyone he knew was there, including his long-departed parents and grandparents. They were laughing and singing with mugs of beer in their hands. His mother, who looked well for one who had died eight years earlier, came over and kissed him. "A blessing on your head, Fatty!" Others shouted congratulations, and his grandfather, dead nearly 30 years, came over and shook his hand. "You could certainly do much worse, lad. Cami Goodchild is a fine lass indeed!"

Fatty sat back smiling broadly in satisfaction. So he had prevailed and she had agreed to marry him. Lucky lass. He lifted a mug and took a long draught as his friends and family cheered. Then suddenly all grew silent. His father squinted at the door which had just swung open, letting in a dank mist. "What Hobbit is this? Could it be...?" The hairs on the back of Fatty's neck stood up as his guests backed away from the dark figure that had entered. It advanced until the light from the fire illuminated its face, which was not nearly as well preserved as that of his mother, as well as a deep bloody gash across its belly.

The guests began whispering a name frantically. "Hob Fields! Its Hob Fields!" Hob shambled over to stand swaying before the horrified Fatty. He bent over until his face was inches from the Bolger's and, with charnal breath, began to speak. "What is this about you marrying my wife? How could you do this to your friend and neighbor Hob Fields?" Fatty shook his head and tried to slip off the chair sideways to escape the mouldering figure, to no avail. Hob grasped Fatty's hands in a steel grip and continued. "If you marry Cami Goodchild, I'll give you three weeks. And when three weeks are out..." Hob let go of Fatty's hands and rose to his full height. His eyes began to glow a dull red and blood oozed from his gash. Hoarse pants punctuated his words as he continued. "...I'll come to you by night...and I'll take you by your throat...AND..."

Fatty woke up screaming...

---------------------------

Lorien's smile grew broader. "That should do it," he chuckled. Cami blinked in confusion. Lorien did not seem to be speaking to any of them. Then he appeared to return to the present and looked down at the Hobbit. "So, why did you wake me, little one? What could be so important that you couldn't let me suffer in peace?"

Cami looked up at the kindly face, then took note of the bloodshot eyes. It was difficult to believe that this was one of the Valar sitting on the chair before her. For a moment, she felt sorry that she had woken him, but the moment passed quickly. "You were beginning to tell me why I had been brought here when we were...interrupted."

Lorien winced and rubbed his temples again. "I don't know how Olorin managed to stay in one of these bodies so long. They can be so uncomfortable." Then he focused upon Cami again. "You don't know? Didn't Bilbo tell you?" Cami shook her head impatiently. Lorien laughed, then grimaced again. "Well, I suppose we haven't been here long yet. Bilbo asked for this."

"I was brought here just to see Bilbo?" asked Cami.

"Yes. No!" the Vala shook his head and nearly toppled with the effort. "He was concerned for you. He felt that you had done great deeds, which you did, but that you had suffered a wound and had not found healing like Frodo did."

Cami's eyes narrowed. "I suffered no wound. None that has not healed at any rate." Bird, standing behind Lorien, rolled her eyes, brought a finger to her temple and made a circular motion with it.

"Not a wound from a knife or blade," reponded Lorien irritably. "Not that kind."

"Then what?" shouted Cami, her patience dissolved by weariness and frustration.

Lorien's mouth dropped open and his eyes snapped shut at the outburst. "If he's fallen asleep again, I'll slap him silly," growled Bird. The Vala's eyes opened again, slowly, and he turned to glare at Bird. "Next time you fall asleep on the shoulder of some Southron and he decides to swat you, I won't wake you, if you don't stay civil," snapped Lorien. Then he turned back to Cami.

"Your wound is from Beleriand," he said. "You suffered there greatly and the one ray of hope which you had was snatched away when you returned unselfishly to the Lonely Star to complete your task. That was a great sacrifice. That is the wound which we will heal."

Cami shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand," she cried, with tears of frustration welling up in her eyes.

Lorien smiled at the Hobbit. "I'm sorry," he said. "I do not communicate well with words. I'm not really used to it I suppose. Maura. We're bringing him here...for a time...so that you can be together. So that the two of you may marry if you wish, though you cannot be together in your future or his..."

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

ArwenBaggins

03-05-2003, 03:07 PM

Elanor laid on her back in the cart, with Goldi on one side, asleep, and Rosie on the other, staring into space, almost asleep. The pony trotted along, and she could here her father and mother talking at the head.

She stared at the stars, watching them twinkle. A soft snore came from her little Rosie, now peacefully asleep. She couldn’t see her brothers moving at the end of the cart, but she didn’t know if they were asleep, or plotting some unknown terror and havoc. Her eyes started to get heavy, but she was jolted by the breath of Goldi down her neck.

Elanor sighed, wiping her sleepy eyes. She heard her father humming a familiar Hobbit poem, and she whispered the words to herself:
Ents the earth-born, old as mountains,
the wide-walkers, water drinking;
and hungry as hunters, the Hobbit children,
the laughing-folk, the little people,
they shall remain friends as long as leaves are renewed.

Sleepiness overtook her, and she fell asleep, with the wagon rolling peacefully along.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

mark12_30

03-05-2003, 04:08 PM

Frodo looked out a window, hands in pockets, and watched Sam's wagon pull steadily up The Hill towards Bag End. He had successfully avoided invading Sam's current life and weighing him down, but he still felt uneasy and torn, and wished heartily that he could have gone deeper with his old friend. Tentatively, he reached out towards the cart as it lumbered along. He closed his eyes, and a soft smile lit his face.

Little Elanor-- not little any more; tall young lady Elanor-- had just slipped into a dream. He began to withdraw, not wanting to interfere with her dream in any way; but he smiled as he did so. He had seen enough to know that in her dream Elanor was an elven princess in warrior's garb returning victorious from a great battle with orcs.

Frodo smiled. He did not think she would find many orcs to battle; but he thought she would rise to the occasion whenever a contest of wills came her way.

"Looking after Sam?" Bilbo asked him drowsily.

"Well, yes, " Frodo replied absently, coming back to the Inn.

"I wonder why you didn't plan a visit, " Bilbo remonstrated softly.

Frodo looked back up The Hill. "Perhaps I'll go for a walk in the morning, if there's time." Perhaps I can be a help and not a hindrance, Frodo thought, if I can take a few of the children out walking with me, and give their parents some peace.

piosenniel

03-05-2003, 07:09 PM

Orual's Post

The stars twinkled comfortingly overhead as Sam guided the pony and cart home, humming softly to himself. Rose was nearly asleep beside him, and all of his children were quiet in the back, having worn themselves out in the Great Pudding War. He glanced back and saw Ellie lying on her back, Goldilocks and Rosie-lass asleep by her, and the boys all either asleep or too quiet for Sam to know the difference. What a night it had been. All of the children left the Inn covered in pudding but quite jolly, and the parents had all resigned themselves to a bit of cleaning up afterwards, but none considered that price too steep for a lovely evening.

"...fun, Sam?"

"What?" Sam turned at his wife's half-heard query. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were weary and she had to fight to keep them open.

"Did you have fun tonight?" she repeated, resting her head on his shoulder. Hamfast was sleeping on his mother's lap, his chest rising and falling gently as Rose stroked his curls.

"Oh, yes, very much," Sam said, and didn't meet his wife's eyes. He had enjoyed talking with Cami, that was true...and it was nice to see Merry and Pippin again...and it was certainly wonderful to see his children having fun, and most especially seeing Elanor meet Frodo.

"I'm so glad that you talked to Frodo before we left," Rose murmured, beginning to fall asleep. "It will be so nice for the two of you to be able to really talk again, and don't think I didn't see how awkward you both were at the beginning of the party..."

Sam smiled a little as Rose trailed off. He pulled off of the road and sat her up straighter, putting Hamfast on a blanket in the back next to Rosie-lass. He then climbed back into his seat and continued on the way home.

Rose was so sure that he talked with Frodo after the party--and he did, in the most literal sense of the word. But they hadn't actually said anything. It had been more of the sort of talk that strangers used with each other..."My, Elanor's grown." "Nearly thirteen now, she's quite the little mother--helps Rose with the children all the time, without ever being asked. We couldn't do without her!" "She's quite the young lady now. She's very beautiful...I imagine that you need a stick at all times to beat off the lads." "Oh, yes, she has lots of would-be suitors, but she's got enough sense not to let them too close. She's very good about that."

Come to think of it, most of the talk had been about Elanor. Sam looked at the now-sleeping girl. Her lovely face, framed by her golden locks, was peaceful and content. Once again Sam found himself envying his eldest daughter, and once again he immediately pushed the feeling away.

Perhaps Frodo would come by Bag End, and then they could talk. Really talk, without the pressure of prying eyes, maybe even take a long walk through the Shire, away from everyone, and truly get reacquainted.

Or maybe they wouldn't.

Just don't let this chance go by, or you'll always regret it." Merry's words came back to Sam in a rush, and he winced. He would regret it, he knew, if Frodo left again and they had not truly spoken. Because though Sam did not fully understand how or why Frodo and Bilbo were back in the Shire, he was sure that they would not come again. This would be the last time that he would see Frodo in Middle-earth, of that he had no doubt. Perhaps what Frodo had said when he left for the West had been correct, and someday Sam would join him there, but that would not be for many, many years. Surely it would not be until all of his children were grown, and he and Rose had no plans of stopping at eight--as he had said in his letter to his sister, they were shooting for thirteen. So if he did not speak to Frodo now, another chance would not come for years, perhaps ever again. He resolved to talk to Frodo, really and truly, before he left.

He stopped the cart as they arrived at Bag End, and gently woke Rose. He helped her out of the cart and they brought the children in, washed the little ones, and sent them all to bed. Rose put Hamfast back to sleep while Sam read to the older children from the Red Book. When they were both done they returned to the living room, and Rose pretended to faint onto the couch.

"What a day this has been," she sighed. "The children had fun, though, and so did I. It was nice to talk with Diamond--though she is a bit stuffy, don't you suppose? She didn't seem to approve of the children's pudding fight. I thought it was funny, if a bit tough to clean up after--I don't envy Cami and Piosenniel the mess they'll have to deal with at the Inn. I should have offered to help, but I was so tired I'd probably only make a bigger mess than there was to start with! I think I ought to see if I can help tomorrow, though. Even Cami and Pio must sleep, and I imagine they'll let the mess sit until the morning. I know I would."

Sam was only half-listening to Rose's talk, and she was only half-listening herself. "I'd wait until the morning myself, as well, but for now it's time for bed. Shall I carry you?"

Rose laughed. "What a lucky lass I am. No, you don't have to carry me, but I wouldn't say no to an arm to lean on. I'm tired myself--let's turn in for the night."

Sam didn't respond, but led her to bed, then climbed in himself. Rose was quickly asleep, but Sam stayed awake long after, thinking on the night's happenings, and resolving to meet with Frodo at least once before he left.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

03-05-2003, 08:04 PM

Lorien smiled at the Hobbit. "I'm sorry," he said. "I do not communicate well with words. I'm not really used to it I suppose. Maura. We're bringing him here...for a time...so that you can be together. So that the two of you may marry if you wish, though you cannot be together in your future or his..."

Each word dropped into the silence of the room like a stone into deep, still water. The ripples spread out battering against her senses, and she gasped as they met the sight of tears splashing down the cheeks of her friend.

‘He smiles as he says these words to her,’ she murmured to herself, that cold calmness, coming over her now, the precision of thought and action that always preceded the kill for her. ‘How like a Vala to do this. To offer sweet gifts with one hand and forbid the taking of them fully with the other. How did I hope that this might be any different.’

She knocked the cup of tea from his hands, reaching down swiftly to grasp the front of his robe in her hands, and hauled him up to face her. ‘You disgust me.’ she hissed, her grey eyes meeting his blue ones. Bird’s hand went out to grip her arm, as she sought to slip her dagger from beneath her sleeve. ‘I would gut you like a fish from stem to stern save that my friend has stayed my hand.’
He moved with her, like some unwilling partner in a grotesque dance, held upright in her grip - passing out the door to her room and across the floor of the Inn, through streaks of moonlight and deep shadow, to the front door.

‘Get out!’ she spat at him as she shoved him out the door, his inebriated body falling crazily against the post of the front porch, and sliding down it to sit clumsily on the steps.

Her eyes narrowed, watching him as he sat there, willing him to disappear . . .

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

Child's post:

The common room was empty and silent. The guests had long since departed, with platters of food and half-drunk flagons of ale still scattered over counters and tables. Prim and the servers had retired for the night. They had scrubbed out the remains of the pudding from the floor, but there was still an untidy mess that would need to be dealt with in the morning. Unable to sleep, Cami had left her bed and come down to gather up dirty dishes. At least it would keep her busy.

She worked haphazardly, tossing plates carelessly here and there, and throwing dirty cutlery onto the kitchen table. Her thoughts were deeply troubled, for she could see both promise and pain in the message that had been given her. Ever since leaving Beleriand, she had yearned for something like this to happen, for some unexpected bolt from the heavens to offer her even a faint measure of hope. It was only last night at the party that she’d finally breathed a plea to Elbereth for the Powers to listen and grant her mercy.

Was this the response to her heartfelt supplication? To bring herself and Maura together, only to be ripped apart in a few brief weeks. If so, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the message or its bearer. To Cami, Lorien looked and acted nothing like a Valar. Where was the wisdom and majestic compassion she’d seen reflected in Ulmo’s eyes? She could understand Pio's unreasoning anger when faced with his cold words that had sounded so removed and uncaring.

Her frend had come so close to sinking her dagger into Lorien's body. She had been restrained only by Bird's quick hand. And what if Bird had not been there? Cami had made a bargain in Beleriand, one that she knew could only be filled with heartache and sorrow. Yet never had she intended that her choice should fall onto her friends' heads, or place them in such a difficult position. Yet she sensed that this was happening, and felt powerless to stop it.

It was then that she heard sounds of moaning and tapping coming from the front steps of the Inn. Cami walked over to the window and gazed outside. He was still there, sitting on the ground and slumped back against the building. He stared up at her with glazed eyes that refused to focus, his lean body shivering against the jagged breeze and cold night air.

Cami drew back, wondering what to do. From the way he had treated her, she had no reason to thank or help him. A messenger who couldn't even stay sober enough to deliver the message with which he had been entrusted! One who watched her with cool eyes, while he spoke of meetings and separations of lovers, as if such things happened every day.

Yet, even so, Cami could not bring herself to let him sit there shivering on the steps. She went inside to the kitchen and supply closet and got a few things, then walked out onto the porch.

"Here, this is for you." Cami handed Lorien one of the blankets, a flask of hot drink, and some of the food, wrapped together in a packet. "There are four deserted burrows that stands on the far side of Bywater Pool. No one will bother you there. Not even Pio. There's fresh straw for sleeping as well."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked in a low, uneven voice.

"Because whoever you are, and for whatever reason you have come, you wear a body now that can feel cold and weariness. Go down to the shed and leave here before the Elf awakens and finds you. Whatever she does is only meant to protect me."

"And you, Cami. Do you bring me an answer?"

"Aye, for sure I have an answer. You might have said the very same thing to me that you did, but with a manner that was gentle and caring. It would have made a difference, at least to me. If you plan to stay in that body a while, I suggest you start thinking more about what you're doing to those around you. After you leave this place, we still have to live here and get along with each another. Don't destroy that."

Cami felt her voice crack as she turned to respond. "This is my life, and the life of the hobbit I love. I will not hurt him, even to assuage my own sense of loss. And you are past all talking now. Go and sleep. I will come to you tomorrow by the pool and learn more about this bargain that you have prepared for me."

Then she walked back in the Inn and quietly closed the door.

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

03-06-2003, 06:27 AM

Frodo woke with a start, put a hand to his head, and then gathered his wits. Bilbo was stirring as well. Frodo rubbed his eyes and then laughed out loud.

"A three-headed troll!" he chuckled, and shuddered. "How awful. And you won't believe who the heads were."

Bilbo groaned. "Oh, yes, I would, " he muttered.

"Amaranthus, Birdland and Piosenniel, " Frodo shook his head again. "And I couldn't get away. I woke up when the troll sat on me. I'm jelly, Bilbo."

"You've got it wrong, " Bilbo said with mock-seriousness. "The three heads were Fatty, Cami and poor old Hob."

"What!" Frodo gasped.

"And I was on my way to being roasted. Not squashed, " Bilbo said firmly.

"I wonder if he's sober yet. I wonder..." Frodo reached out to Lorien in thought, and then jerked back as quickly. "My goodness, yes, that's the source." Frodo began again, this time more agressively, pushing Lorien's wild imaginings aside. If you haven't learned moderation yet, you'd better. You're being quite rude.

Bilbo's eyebrows went up. "Getting a little big for your breeches, Frodo my lad?"

"He can keep his hangover to himself, " Frodo shot back, and rolled out of bed.

A few doors over, Bird stirred in her sleep, and then woke up. "Ugh. A three-headed troll-- one head a mocking Bilbo, the next a jeering, leering Frodo-- and the third head, an angry Mithadan, raging and roaring. What a horrible troll to encounter." But she had to laugh. "Diced! " she said. "I wonder why it decided to dice and boil me. Ugh."

Undaunted, Bird yawned, and rolled over to try and catch another wink.

[ March 06, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Mithadan

03-06-2003, 10:34 AM

Mithadan's cheeks grew hot as he bumped along in the back of the Shiriffs' pony cart. The ropes which bound his wrists were too tight and were cutting into his flesh. Those around his legs were looped over his boots and caused less discomfort. He ground his teeth upon the cloth gag which had been stuffed into his mouth and tried to ignore the circus which had developed around the cart.

The Shiriffs were strutting and boasting as if they had captured Sauron himself and Hobbits were running from their holes and houses as they passed to gawk or issue catcalls to the prisoner. A group of Hobbit lads and lasses had formed behind the cart and followed it down the road. A few bold youngsters had seized willow branches and amused themselves by racing up to the cart to strike Mithadan's boots with their makeshift switches. There were numerous cries of "ruffian" and "rascal" and not a few tossed rotten apples or rocks in his direction. One apple core had struck him square in the face with precise accuracy.

At last, the cart turned onto a narrow lane which led to a squat single story building with bars over its round windows. The Shiriffs none too gently hauled Mithadan from the cart and dragged him inside. There, they removed his gag and Halfred sat on a stool before him as his pack, belt and weapons were carried in. His horse was tied to a post outside and given an apple and water. However, no such courtesy was offered to the Man.

Mithadan sat sullenly before the Shiriff as the Hobbit drank a tall cup of water before turning and asking questions. "So ruffian, what do you want with The Shire? Up to no good I'll warrant."

"As I said," rasped Mithadan, his throat dry from the gag, "I am here on personal business with a letter of introduction and safe conduct from the King Elessar."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," sneered Halfred. "What kind of personal business?"

"I am here to see my wife..." began Mithadan before he was interrupted by laughter. "Your wife?" laughed one of the deputies. "Who is it? Daisy Sandybanks? Pearl Took? Or perhaps both seeing as you're twice their size." The deputy's jibe was greeted with uproarious laughter.

Mithadan's face darkened and his eyes narrowed. "My wife," he shouted, "is Piosenniel and she is working presently at The Green Dragon Inn." The deputy nearly fell to the floor with laughter and Halfred almost choked. "Your wife's an Elf?" cried the Shiriff incredulously. "A regular Beren you are, then. Perhaps I should send for Luthien!"

"The letter of introduction is in my pack," growled Mithadan through gritted teeth. "Perhaps that will clear up this...misunderstanding. I am Mithadan, son of Galasmir, who was Lord of Lond Lefnui..."

"Lefnui?" said the deputy. "Gazundheit!" The Shiriff roared with laughter again. "All right," said Halfred as the laughter died. "Let's see your pack."

The Shiriff began emptying Mithadan's rucksack on a table. The first items to catch his eye were two pouches, one bigger than the other. He opened the smaller pouch and gasped as gold coins spilled out. "What's this?" he cried. "The proceeds of a career of crime no doubt!" Mithadan responded quietly with an edge to his voice. "There are twenty coins in that sack and forty in the other and I shall hold you accountable for each and every one. The King's letter is in that envelope."

Halfred drew the envelope from the pack and turned white when he saw the seal on its flap. The seal was unbroken. He drew his knife and cracked the seal neatly. Then he pulled out the letter. His jaw dropped as he began to read it. "Send for the Mayor," he cried. "And get a messenger over to The Green Dragon!" The Shiriff turned to look at Mithadan who met his gaze calmly with one eye. The second had swollen shut from the apple which had struck it.

[ March 06, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

mark12_30

03-06-2003, 01:30 PM

Child's post:

When the serving maid went in that morning to fluff up the bedclothes, she did not notice the small piece of paper tacked up to the door. After she finished straightening the room, she left in a rush, her arms piled high with dirty linens, slamming the door behind her. The maid did not look back to see the small sheet rip loose from the nail and flutter to the ground, coming to rest in a pile of dust which she'd neglected to sweep that morning.

Dear Frodo,

I am sorry to burden you with my problems again. I am sitting here in the common room unable to sleep, and I thought you might help me think through some of this.

Last night, Lorien told us about his plan to bring Maura to the Inn. Please say thanks to Bilbo for everything he did. I know he tried his best. Do not let him know that things are not going very well, as I fear it would grieve him.

Sadly, Lorien has so blundered things that it may not be possible to set them right. When he told me the news, his words sounded so cold and uncaring that Pio became very angry and, in her desire to protect me, came close to lifting her dagger against him. Even I felt as if he'd placed me at the edge of a cliff, and did not really care whether I stood or fell.

I wish Gandalf had been sent in his place, or that Lorien had shown enough sense to draw me aside, instead of burdening my friends. Frodo, I freely promised my love to Maura, and I am bound to honor that pledge, even when it leads to sadness. A few moments in time with him sound unbearably precious to me. I have nothing now, so why should I refuse the little that is being offered? But to Pio, who had wished for something better for me, to say nothing of her desire to protect her own family, this temporary arrangement seems nothing but a cruel jest.

I do not like it when my choices fall on the heads of my friends. Pio was hurt and I am sure Bird was not happy either. I have told Lorien that I will speak with him tomorrow, after he is sober. Then I must think on the words he says. I love Maura very much, but this arangement will not be easy, and others will find it hard to understand.

I have sometimes thought that Lorien should send Maura to my side, but that the two of us should leave the Inn and remain apart from our friends, exchanging our vows with only the songbirds as witnesses. I do not know. I seem to carry disaster in my wake. Pio came within a hair's breadth of thrusting her dagger into the Vala. I do not want my own burdens to fall on my friends.

I plan to check on Lorien tomorrow. If he follows my advice, he will be staying in one of the deserted burrows on the far side of Bywater Pool.

Forgive me for saying this, but I can not imagine living in the West, if all the folk you rub shoulders with are like this fellow Lorien. Perhaps there are some who are nicer.

And do not neglect to go pay a visit to Samwise Gamgee for I saw him looking at you last night with great sadness in his eyes.

Your friend,

Cami

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

Mark 12_30's post

Frodo and Bilbo finished Second Breakfast, pushing their plates away with contented sighs. There was a peaceful silence for a few moments, and they saw the maid scurry through the hallway bearing a great burden of linens. Frodo considered the sheet trailing in her wake, and smiled softly.

"I had planned on a walk, Bilbo," he said.

"Of course you had, " Bilbo replied, "and don't think I've forgotten. Off you go. I could use a peaceful morning after all the chaos of the evening prior."

"I wish you could come..." Frodo sighed.

"I'm old, " Bilbo cut him off. "You go tramping. Cover some ground. And find someone to tramp with; you can walk alone at Tol Eressea all you want."

There was a silence. The sentence carried more foreboding than Bilbo had meant it to. Frodo studied Bilbo, who looked away awkwardly, and eventually Frodo spoke. "Bilbo, I've learned that I'm at home wherever you are. And yet I can tell you're preparing to leave, and then what home will I have? Uncle, you'll break my heart all over again."

"Nonsense, my boy. You'll be all right, " Bilbo replied brusquely.

Frodo's response held bitterness. "Well, with half of elvendom watching over me, I'm sure I'll be warm, well fed and well educated. And once again, I will desperately miss you, and long more than anything else to be off on your trail."

"You'll join me eventually, " Bilbo said, eyes glinting. "Don't be in any rush. Right now, you've got a walk to go on. And I'll not have you moping about in the West because you failed to go tramping in The Shire when you had the chance. Off with you now. Go on."

Frodo did not stir, but fought against disapointment, fear, sadness and loneliness, and a strong sense of denial.

"Now, Lad. You'll be all right. Don't carry on so."

Frodo's eyes blazed and his quiet voice took on an indignant edge. "I'll carry on as much as I wish to, Uncle. If you're going to abandon me you can deal with my disappointment and sorrow. And so can anyone else for that matter."

Bilbo laughed out loud. "I'm not gone yet, for pity's sake. And if you keep this up, in sheer embarassment I'll depart this world sooner rather than later! Off with you."

Exhasperated, sad, and trying to hide it, Frodo pointed his forefinger accusingly at Bilbo. Bilbo caught the hand and soundly slapped Frodo's back. "The Shire is waiting. Go on, now."

Frodo sighed, stood and kissed his uncle's forehead, and then straightened, and headed back to the room to get an extra shirt. As he came back out the door, he saw a paper on the floor; it was addressed to him. He snatched it up and pocketed it, planning to read it in the sun. He stopped by the dining room on his way out, and gazed at Bilbo.

Bilbo felt his eyes on him, and turned and gave him an impish smile, and waved him on. Frodo left reluctantly. But once he was on the grass beside the road, he took a deep breath, and turning towards The Hill, settled into a strong, steady pace.

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

03-06-2003, 03:14 PM

There had been no sleep for Piosenniel that night. Cami and Bird could get no response from her since Lorien had been so ungraciously ousted from her rooms, and they had given up trying to draw her into their conversation, at long last, leaving her to her own thoughts. She sat then in darkness, her face impassive as she considered her options. Starlight and moonlight glinted coldly in the grey of her eyes, and even the first bright rays of morning could prompt no warmth within them as she gazed out her window to the empty road beyond.

She cared little that Cami had shown kindness to the Vala. She could afford it, she supposed. The Hobbit’s capacity for that trait often astounded her, but today she put even that aside, knowing that Cami would choose for herself what she could endure. And for that, Pio was grateful. With or without her, Cami would move forward in the path laid out by her choosing.

Amaranthas stirred in the little bedroom. Pio could hear her moving about, the rustle of her dress as she pulled it on, the soft slap, slap of her feet on the wood floor. The door opened slightly, and the bright black eyes of the old Hobbit peered out at her. ‘I heard voices last night, angry sounds, some of them. Uneasy dreams crept over me and I could not wake. They were frightening.’ She looked at the Elf’s pallid face. ‘Did you dream such, too?’

‘I did not sleep, Amaranthas. I did not dream.’ But my children dreamed, in their baby ways - they were frightened. And I will not have it so again. This place is too unsettling, now. Disquieted. Achingly sad. Troubled. Her arms moved protectively over her belly, cradling her little ones. I will have no more to do with the Vala.

‘Let me get dressed,’ she said, bringing her thoughts back to the Hobbit, ‘then I will take you home.’

She shooed Amaranthas out toward the kitchen to find some breakfast, then pulled on her clothes hurriedly. A pair of black leggings that still would stretch to cover her girth, a long, loose dark grey shirt, her soft leather boots. She drew her blue cloak about her though the day promised to be warm. It would be another barrier between herself and the world without.

Pio slipped out the door from her bedroom, quietly crossing the length of yard to the stable. ‘Falmar nickered softly at her approach, and dipped her head in greeting. Quickly saddled, her braided leather noseband in place, she stood patiently while Pio clambered up the side of the stall to mount her.

‘You’re not taking me home on that great beast, are you?’ Amaranthas eyed the horse with some distrust. ‘I am.’ returned Pio in a firm voice. ‘Ruby, boost her up here. She can cling on behind me.’ Pio reached down with a hand and helped draw the Hobbit upward. They made off from the Inn at a fast pace, Amaranthas clinging tightly to the Elf’s shirt. And soon they were at the front door to the Hobbit’s house.

‘Come in and rest for a while,’ the Old Hobbit offered, her surprisingly strong, thin hand grasping Pio’s, leading her into the coolness of the parlour from the midday sun. ‘You don’t have to talk with me. I have plenty of tasks here to get done, without having to entertain you.’ She glanced up at the impassive face of the Elf. ‘I think we’re beyond having to do that for each other by now. Just sit and sort things out for yourself.’

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

03-07-2003, 01:06 PM

Hob hauled the water buckets out from the kitchen, filled with steaming water and a generous measure of white vinegar to take away the stains of last night’s pudding fling. Ruby leaned on her mop, and stared at Prim. ‘I’m thinking we should have held out for a larger sum, Mistress Prim. What do you think?’

‘I’m thinking it will take a lot of elbow grease to get this back to normal.’ Primrose Bolger stood, hands on hips, surveying the stains that had worked their way into the wooden floor. ‘Right, then. Let’s get to it.’ She grabbed up her hard bristled scrub brush and directed Hob to pour a generous bit of water on the floor. ‘Ruby, you get that spread around in a big circle, then everybody grab a brush and kneel down and we’ll see what we can do.’ It was a large area that they had to go over - it took a number of buckets of water and many minutes of hard scrubbing and rinsing to bring back the plain, clean grain of the floor.

‘Good work, you two!’ Prim rubbed the small of her back as she stood up from the final scrubbing, and sighed wearily. ‘Let’s go into the kitchen for elevenses. Cook’s made some tarts we can try out. And I could use a large cup of strong tea.’

Buckets, mop, and brushes were put away, and the windows to the Inn left open for the floor to dry faster. The three Hobbits gathered round the old wood table in the kitchen and were soon laying into the generous plate of tarts and scones that Cook had made for them, washing them down with several cups each of bracing tea. Cook, too, had taken a break in her preparations for lunch and sat like a queen in her parlour, sipping at a cup of tea with a dollop of honey and cream in it, feet up on a wooden crate, and listening closely as Ruby filled her in on the antics that had taken place in the Common Room last night. Both Cook and Hob asked her to repeat the story of the arrival of Mistress Piosenniel’s “interesting” friend, and would not have believed her had not Prim said she had seen it, too, with her own eyes.

A sudden, insistent knock at the kitchen door, and the sound of a loud voice demanding to be let in, put a halt to their conversation, and Hob got up to see who was making such noise. He unlatched the door, and had barely moved out of the way, when it flew open with bang and a rather untidy, red faced Hobbit burst in, panting and wheezing out a string of unintelligible words.

‘Sit down and get your wits about you, Filibert. We can’t understand a thing you’re saying.’ Cook shoved a cool glass of water into the gasping Hobbit’s hands as Hob pushed him firmly into a chair. The four of them hovered about the seated figure with increasing curiosity. What would cause Flilibert Whitfoot, a rather sedentary and ample Hobbit, to hasten from the Shiriff’s office, at a dead run, apparently, and end up here in the Green Dragon’s kitchen?

He took a large gulp of water and sat up straight, looking frantically round the kitchen. ‘Is she here?’ he asked. Four perplexed faces stared back at him. ‘Who?!’ prompted Prim, her patience growing thin.

‘Mistress Piosenniel.’ came the quick reply. ‘She’s wanted at the Shiriff’s, on a matter of some importance concerning one of the Big Folk who's been arrested.’

Prim turned pale, wondering what this was all about. Try as they might, though, they could get no further information from the Shiriff’s younger brother.

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

Amaranthas was just giving the thirsty flowers in the front planter box a watering, when she spied a small cloud of dust moving along the road leading to her house. ‘Miz Pio, she called through the open window into the parlour, ‘come out here and see what this is all about.’ Pio hoisted herself up from the overstuffed chair where she rested, and hurried out to the front steps. Shading her eyes against the noon time sun, she looked closely at the distant horse and rider heading toward the lane to this house at a run. A frown creased her face, and she chewed her bottom lip, not believing what she saw.

‘It is one of the horses from the Inn's stable who flies so quickly down the road, and Hob rides her.’

They stood on the porch waiting for the horse and rider. Amaranthas had put down her watering can, leaving the flowers to fend for themselves in the hot sun. Her hand was on the Elf’s arm, anxious to know why Hob had come in such haste.

The clatter of the horse's hooves could now be heard pounding down the short lane from the main road. And soon the mare stood at the very edge of the porch, her sides heaving from exertion, nostrils flaring. Hob slid from her back and ran panting up to Pio. ‘Prim sent me,’ he gasped. ‘You must come quickly. There is a Man, one of the Big Folk, being held at the Lock-holes by the Shiriff, Halfred Whitfoot, and you are needed.’

‘One of the Big Folk?’ demanded Amaranthas. ‘Can’t you be any plainer than that?! Who is it? Speak up, lad!’ Pio’s face had gone pale at Hob’s words.

‘Mithadan!’

‘Falmar had been grazing on the greensward in front of Amaranthas house. Pricking up her ears, eyes wide, she noted with interest the apporach of the other mare. Pio called to her to come closer and whispered a few words in her ear. The horse nodded her head and stepped sideways to the porch, so that the Elf might mount her more easily. You will have to ride with me, Hob. I do not know where the Shiriff is. Ride 'Falmar with me - your mount is too slow.’ She reached down a hand and pulled him quickly up behind her.

‘Falmar was eager to be off, sensing the growing tension in the Elf. Pio reined her in as Amaranthas spoke. ‘Sam lives just across the road. He’s the Mayor of the Shire. See what he can do for you.’ She waved them off, then, and they flew to Bag End, stopping there briefly before hastening once again down the road to Bywater.

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

The horse was well lathered by the time they reached the Lock-holes just northeast of Bywater. ‘Wipe her down, as best you can, Hob,’ she directed the Hobbit as she helped him from ‘Falmar’s back.

Her clothes were wrinkled from the ride and from Hob's desperate grip on her; her face pale beneath the dust from the road. But she gave no thought to either as she strode quickly into the Shiriff’s office, her grey eyes glinting in the dim light.

A Hobbit sat at the desk she approached, looking at some document. A second Hobbit stood behind him, bent over, also peering closely at the same piece of paper. She came upon them quietly. Startled, they stood, gaping at her sudden presence. ‘Which of you is Halfred Whitfoot?’ she asked in a low, clear voice. The seated Hobbit rose, clearing his throat, and made to speak to her. She cut him off as she thrust the letter she had received from Sam into his gesturing hands.

He broke the wax seal, noting the imprint of Mayor Gamgee’s stamp on it, and read the message carefully:

“My dear Halfred Whitfoot, Shiriff of the Shire, West Farthing

Greetings, my friend! I write you this letter for two purposes. First, to commend you for your loyal and faithful upkeeping of the King Elessar's ban on Men entering the Shire; and second, to ask you to break this same ban.

A certain Mithadan is now in your custody in the Locks, for entering the Shire, which is forbidden to those of his race by King Elessar. You did right and well, according to your duties, to take him into your custody and detain him. However, this man is an exception to the rule. I am sure that you are familiar with Piosenniel, the Innkeeper at the Green Dragon. Mithadan is her husband, who was long traveling, most recently from Gondor, and has now come to the Shire for several reasons, one of which is to be present for the birth of their twins. In order that he may be able to be with his beloved at this blessed event, I beg you to release him to Piosenniel's custody.

Once again I praise you for your faithfulness, but I ask you to release Mithadan. I will vouch for him, and if any ill comes of his release, the consequences will fall onto my shoulders.

Sincerely,

Samwise Gamgee, Mayor of the Shire”

Halfred lowered the paper, and peered over the top of it at Pio.

‘I have come for my husband, good Sir,’ she said carefully. ‘For Mithadan. Bring me to him.’

_____________________________________________

Sam's letter courtesy of Orual

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-07-2003, 01:09 PM

Cami sat up in bed and stretched, craning her neck forward so she could peer out the window. Her head was throbbing, and she'd overslept, not too surprising in view of what had happened last night. The sun already stood high in the sky. Half her day must already be gone.

She dressed quickly and slipped out, intending to go down to the kitchen to find something to eat. Before she'd gotten very far, three different folk had run up to her, with garbled stories of how a messenger had come into the Inn just that morning with the dreadful news that Piosenniel's husband had been detained by the Shirriff.

Cami went off at once, madly searching for Bird, to see if she could learn something more. But, before she could make much progress, Prim had pulled her aside, explaining how Hob had ridden hard to the burrow of Amaranthas to convey a message to Pio, since the Elf had been spending her morning there.

"Perhaps, I'd best go too, and try to help." Cami was about to head out the door and go sprinting off in the direction of the Lock-holes, when Prim put a hand on her shoulder to restrain her. "They'll be fine, Miss Cami. And, to be truthful, you've been gone from here a heap o' time. The Shirriffs aren't even likely to know who you are. What Mistress Pio needs is a good word from someone like Mayor Samwise, and I'm sure they're smart enough to get that."

Cami winced at Prim's words, but quickly recognized the truth in them. If she could do nothing to help, she'd best concentrate on those things of her own that needed doing. She went down to the kitchen, and grabbed a cloth sack, stuffing several items of leftover food inside. Then she went back into the supply closet and, after much searching, took out two small bottles containing a vicious-looking black liquid. According to the Proudfoots, long known for their prowess in matters of drinking. this was a closely guarded family recipe that was said to be the best in the Shire for helping a hobbit quickly get over a hangover.

She slung the bag over her shoulder and went running out the door, heading in the direction of Bywater Pool.

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

03-07-2003, 01:36 PM

Frodo slowed as he walked the last hundred feet to the door of his old home. He half expected to see Sam out and about in the garden, and then he laughed; there was Frodo-Lad, weeding a small patch, and near him was Merry-Lad.

They did not look up, and he approached as softly as a hobbit can, and went straight to the door, and knocked, wondering who would answer.

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Mithadan

03-07-2003, 01:43 PM

Mithadan lay on a cot in a cell in the Lockholes, wondering at the ignominious end to which his journey appeared to have come. "Well," he thought, "if they ever let me out, I could always take that Stoat character up on his offer..." His eye remained shut and his wrists ached from his bonds, though the Shirriff had at least released his legs from the makeshift shackles. There came a knock on the cell door, then a key turned in the lock. Halfred entered with a somewhat chastened look on his face.

"Get up...please...Mithadan," he said as if struggling to speak the words. Mithadan wriggled himself to a sitting position and rose, only to be rewarded by a solid wallop on the head from the low ceiling. His knees wavered and he nearly collapsed back down onto the cot. Then he steadied himself and stood hunched before Halfred. "Yes, Master Shirriff?" he asked. In answer, Halfred stepped forward, drew a knife and cut the ropes which had bound his wrists. "Come with me...please," said the Shirriff.

Rubbing his wrists and hands, Mithadan followed the Hobbit from the cell. In the guardroom outside, he was able to straighten to his full height. Halfred spoke to one of his deputies before leading Mithadan out to the office. "Gather his things, all of them, and return them to him." Mithadan's eyebrows arched. "Are you escorting me to the border, then?" he asked. The Shirriff looked back darkly at the Man. "No." It was clear that he wished the answer were otherwise.

As Mithadan entered the office, he saw a tall dark-haired figure wrapped in a blue cloak. "Pio!" He rushed forward and took her in his arms, in the process butting his stomach against her belly. He looked down with a smile, then turned slightly to the side before bringing his lips to hers...

piosenniel

03-07-2003, 02:29 PM

She relaxed into his embrace, feeling safe for the moment. Long put away feelings rolled over her as his kiss deepened. . . . fresh . . . clean . . . soft, sibilant fingers of foam rushing up over sand . . . In a moment, she pulled back, her grey eyes meeting his. She smiled, placing his hand on her belly.

Welcome home, beloved.

Pio stepped back, holding him at arms’ length. Her brow furrowed, seeing the wreck of his face and the state of his clothes. ‘You look awful. What have they done to you?’ Her eyes slid coldly to the two Hobbits standing a short distance away . . .

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Orual

03-07-2003, 02:42 PM

Orual's Post

Pippin took off at a run the moment he heard the knock on the door--before, actually, as he had noticed footsteps approaching Bag End before their visitor even connected fist with wood. " 'Scuse me!" he shouted to Goldilocks as he flew past her, almost knocking her over. "Sorry!" he called over his shoulder. He would've stopped to see if she was all right, but she probably was, and anyway he had to tell his father as soon as possible that there was a visitor at the door. What if it was somebody important? His dad would have to know.

He hit full speed as soon as the second knock came, and tore into his father's study. "Dad! Dad! Somebody's here!"

Sam was already standing up and on his way to the door when his son came shouting in. He grinned at Pippin's proclamation. "Thank you, Pippin. Who is it?"

Pippin frowned. "Well, I don't know, Dad. But they're knocking pretty hard."

Sam laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder. "I'll go see. Thank you for telling me." He started for the door, and Pippin jumped like a rabbit out of the door to make sure that Goldilocks wasn't crying or anything--because then he'd be in trouble. She wasn't, but she was mightily indignant. Sam picked her up as he went to answer the door.

"Good morning!" he said as he opened it, and tried to mask his surprise when he saw Frodo. "Mr. Frodo! What a wonderful surprise!" Behind him, Sam could hear the mystery visitor's identity being carried down the Gamgee family grapevine, up Pippin to Rosie-lass all the way to Elanor and Miz Rose.

"Good morning, Sam," said Frodo. "How are you this morning?"

"Doing fine, though we had a bit of cleaning up to do last night." Sam and Frodo both looked at the children, and Goldilocks' ashen-brown hair, matted in one or two small places with pudding. Sam broke into a grin, and Frodo smiled as well. "Still have some to finish, apparently," Sam laughed.

"Apparently," Frodo agreed. There was a slight pause, and then Frodo spoke up again. "I was thinking that I could bring the children out for a walk, if you didn't have other plans."

Sam didn't answer for a moment, waiting for Frodo to say something along the lines of if you and Rose would like to join us, that would be great. But no such invitation came.

"Oh. Oh, yes, that would be fine," Sam said haltingly, twisting one of Goldi's curls around his finger. "I don't think we have any plans for today, do we, Rose?"

Rose had just come out with Hamfast, who was quite a mess after breakfast. "Hello, Frodo, lovely to see you this morning. No, we don't have any plans, and the children would love to go on a walk with you. I'll go get them ready."

Frodo thanked her, and Rose left. Sam and Frodo stood there for a little while. A minute or so had passed in uncomfortable silence when Sam finally broke it, his voice decided and firm.

"Well, Mr. Frodo, we haven't really gotten a chance to talk yet since you came...not really talk, if you see what I mean. So if you don't have any other plans, how would you feel about staying for a while after you bring the children back?"

There, he'd done it--Rose would be proud if she'd been there to hear it. Now that he'd said it, all he could do was wait until Frodo replied.

mark12_30's Post

Frodo looked at Sam, and hesitated. "If you're sure, Sam. I don't want to impose..."

Sam snorted. "I'm asking; you're not imposing. For heaven's sake, Mr. Frodo." His eyes held a plea.

"Sam... " Frodo softened, and hope sprang up within him, and he smiled. "Yes, Sam, thank you."

Pippin-lad suddenly appeared beside Sam. "I can go too, can't I, dad? "

Frodo laughed, and knelt on one knee, holding his arms out. The four-year-old boy launched himself out the door and into Frodo's waiting arms.

"I can't imagine you'll go far, " Sam began.

"Well, if Uncle Frodo is too slow, then Pippin-Lad can carry me pig-a-back, " Frodo said very seriously. Pippin squealed with laughter.

"Go round to your brothers and sisters, now, Pippin-Lad, and ask them if they would like to come. Hurry." Frodo smiled as Pippin bolted towards the garden, shouting orders at Frodo-Lad and Merry-Lad, and then in the backdoor calling for Elanor and Rose.

"You're sure about this, " Sam said, shaking his head.

"Yes. The two of you enjoy a little peace and quiet, " Frodo said. "I'll be trouble enough when I return."

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

Mithadan

03-07-2003, 03:33 PM

Taking note of the Elf's venomous glare, Halfred stepped forward hurriedly. "Begging your pardon ma'am," he said. "But he's pretty much as we found him save for the eye which was not our doing. Some lad tossed an apple at him as we drove him here on a cart."

Piosenniel looked at Mithadan for confirmation. He scowled a bit at the Shirriff, but said, "While I would not have complained if my treatment was a bit more courteous and gentle, what the Shirriff says is true."

As he spoke, the formerly comedic deputy entered carrying Mithadan's pack and belt, along with his weapons. He stared openly at Piosenniel as he handed them over. Mithadan hurriedly checked the contents then glanced down at the awe-struck deputy. "If this is either Daisy Sandybanks or Pearl Took, then I am Beren," he said with a toothy smile. The deputy laughed weakly, then bowed to Piosenniel as the two exited the Lockholes.

Outside, Mithadan held her close and leaned his head against hers. "I've missed you, my love," he said softly. "And you two also," he added with a laugh as a kick rippled through Piosenniel's belly. The Elf's eyes sparkled, then she smiled impishly.

"So the great warrior was undone by some Halflings and an apple then?" she teased. Mithadan laughed. "My tale is a bit longer than that, but I think that you recall just how formidable these Halflings can be."

Then his mouth dropped open as he saw Piosenniel's steed. "You rode over on that?" he asked. She smirked at his comment. "We Elves are a bit more...durable that women of your kind during pregnancy," she said. She took the reins from Hob and intoduced the Hobbit to Mithadan. Then she suggested that Hob might be more comfortable riding with the Man...

piosenniel

03-07-2003, 04:16 PM

‘Begging your pardon, Mistress Piosenniel.’

Hob stood near Pio, tugging lightly on her cloak, as Mithadan busied himself stowing his gear back on his steed. Hob turned red as a beet, his voice dropping to the merest of whispers. Pio bent down close to him, and he spoke low and apologetically in her ear. His back was to the man, who did not see the myriad gestures the poor Hobbit was making in defense of his plea.

Pio’s eyes glanced over the Hob’s shoulder, at Mithadan, as he spoke, and an impish grin grew on her face as he ticked off his points. When he had finished, his hands raised palms upward as if leaving it to her to make the decision, she laughed loudly and giving him a wink, clapped him in assurance on the shoulder.

Mithadan hearing her laugh, raised his eyebrows at her. She stood and came near him, bending her face in close to his. He grinned, thinking to steal another kiss. But she drew a deep breath, and stepped back laughing, her arm on his chest, allowing him to come no closer.

‘Have mercy! You are right,’ she said, turning to address Hob who now stood mortified by ‘Falmar. Pio returned to her horse and taking the reins, mounted him, reaching down a hand to pull Hob up behind her.

‘Mount up, Mithadan.’ she called to her scruffy companion. ‘We need to get you to the Inn and into a nice long bath to rid you of your ripe, road stench.’ She kicked her heels lightly into ‘Falmar’s sides, leading the way to the main road . . .

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Rose Cotton

03-07-2003, 05:20 PM

Rosie and Elanor had been listening intently to find out why Mr. Frodo had come. They were overjoyed when Pippin rushed up to them saying that they would be going on a walk with Frodo. Rosie couldn't wait. She was sure it would be a wonderful adventure.

As fast as her little hobbit legs could carry her Rosie sprinted to the door eager to get started. Soon she was joined by her siblings Elanor, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin. Goldi, who was still in Sam's arms also wanted to go. However, Sam objected to this and promising she would go next time directed the young hobbit to her room. As soon as Mr. Frodo and Sam had exchanged farewells and Mr. Frodo started heading away from Bag End the Gamgee children bolted out after him ready for an exciting walk.

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: Rose Cotton ]

piosenniel

03-08-2003, 05:09 AM

Ruby recognized the look on Prim’s face, and groaned inwardly. She was hoping that the cleaning they had done after the party would be sufficient for the day. Her knees hurt from scrubbing the floor with the brush, and she relished the thought of just sitting in the kitchen, her feet propped on a chair, watching Cook and Buttercup chop vegetables and stir the pot of stew on the stove.

But Prim had that gleam in her eyes that signified a major cleaning project was being sorted out and organized in her head. ‘Ruby,’ she began, and Ruby wondered if she might just close her eyes and pretend she had gone to sleep. But Prim touched her on the shoulder and motioned her out of the chair. There was no avoiding it.

‘Ruby, they’ll be home in a little while, and if I know Miz Pio, the place is a mess. A homey jumble of all sorts of interesting things, I’m sure, but a mess nonetheless. Come on, lass. We’re going to get it cleaned up before she brings Mister Mithadan home.’ Prim approached Cook and spoke quietly to her. She looked at Buttercup, and Cook nodded her assent. ‘You, too, then, Buttercup. Come along. We’ll need another pair of hands if we’re to get this done quickly.’

The two younger Hobbits gasped in unison when Prim opened the door to Pio’s rooms and ushered them in with their rags and mops and buckets and brooms. It looked like the annual Shire Jumble Sale. There were piles of books all bearing numerous markers stuck in their pages, and maps and charts tacked here and there. Pen and ink drawings done by her were plastered haphazardly on the walls, while the pens and bottles of ink she had used to do them stood here and there where she had put them down in her haste as some other project called for her attention.

The couch and one chair were catch-alls for odd and assorted pieces of clothing, and the chair held the small box of rocks and other treasures she had hauled out last night to share with the children. A solitary rocking chair, had been pulled near the window, and seemed an island of orderliness in this sea of flotsam and jetsam, as it bore only a single opened book of poems upon its seat.

‘Oh my!’ squeaked the wide-eyed Buttercup as they opened the door to Pio’s bedroom. ‘Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.’ Ruby shook her head as she craned her neck to peek in over Buttercup’s shoulder. ‘And here I always thought the Fair Folk were neat and tidy.’

‘Right, then!’ Prim squared her shoulders like a captain marshaling her troops. ‘Ruby, you take the bedroom. Get the fresh sheets from the linen cupboard and make sure the dust bunnies are chased from under the bed. Buttercup, you’re with me. Get those bookshelves emptied and dusted and I’ll start organizing and putting away. Hop to it, Hobbits! We’ve got our work cut out for us, and time grows short.’

The three women threw themselves into it with a vengeance. Little whirlwinds of energy, they sorted and dusted and cleaned and polished, until the place gleamed like a little gem. Prim, Ruby, and Buttercup leaned on their mops and brooms and smiled in a satisfied manner. The rooms now passed their muster - well-ordered and inviting, smelling of lemon oil and beeswax and lavender.

The final touch was several small vases of flower bouquets. Sweet smelling daphne peeked out from windflowers, daisies, poppies, and anemones in the main room. And fat, purple sprays of lilacs filled a large pottery vase on the chest in the bedroom.

‘Done!’ said Prim, once the last vase of flowers had been placed. ‘Let’s clear out the cleaning supplies.’ She took one last look round the place, nodding her head ‘yes’ to what she saw.

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

Once back in the kitchen, sipping on mugs of well-earned ale, the three fell to talking about the upcoming birth of Miz Pio’s twins. ‘According to her, the babies are to be born on Midyear’s Day.’ pronounced Buttercup, who had overheard Amaranthas talking to Cook. ‘That’s only a month and nine days away!’ said Ruby. She looked at the other two, and leaned in toward them conspiratorially. ‘I don’t remember seeing any baby things lying about, do you?’ Buttercup shook her head ‘no’. ‘And where is she going to let the little ones sleep? Did you see any cradles in that spare bedroom when you peeked in there, Prim?’

Ruby looked up at the silent Prim, and blanched. She had that look on her face again. ‘Ladies! I believe we have our next project.’

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

03-08-2003, 05:16 AM

‘If nothing else,’ thought Amaranthas, ‘those Bywaters are good for getting the latest gossip.’

Here it was, not even mid-afternoon, and Lily Bywater had come knocking at her door, wanting to know if she’d heard the news about that Elf friend of hers. Amaranthas invited her in, and sat her down at the kitchen table. A plate of crisp nut cookies and a cup of strong tea, and the Hobbit’s tongue was loosed. Amaranthas listened closely to the description, sorting out fact from the fiction as Lilly prattled on.

A shabby rogue he was, and a bruiser from the looks of him, was Lily’s thirdhand decription – what with one eye swollen shut from a fight with the Shiriffs. Took six of them to take him down and bring him in, don’t you know. Big man, too, must be seven feet tall if he’s an inch. And free with his hands and kisses. Why he grabbed that Elf, the minute he was set loose, as if she were the prize goose and he was hauling her home for dinner. Amaranthas chortled at this description of Piosenniel, wondering what she would think of it.

She tuned out the rest of Lily’s news which had turned to talk of her thieving cousins and their latest exploits, and poured the chattering woman another cup of tea as she thought about what she had learned. Miz Pio had been right. It was Mithadan who had been detained by the Shiriff, and he sounded as if he was pretty beaten up by the trip to the Shire. From comments Pio had dropped during their conversations, she was fairly certain he was not the sort of man to go looking for a fight, nor was he one to defy authority. Must be tall, too. Pio was tall and from what Lily had described he had had no trouble taking her in his arms. The fact that he had kissed her straight off warranted several plus points in her book. Miz Pio deserved someone who was bold enough to show her affection in public.

‘To be quite honest,’ Amaranthas thought to herself, ‘I’m just happy to know he really exists.’ She had often wondered what sort of husband would let his wife be away from him for so long, and especially one bearing his babies. She had even gone so far as to doubt that he really existed at all, but rather, was just a convenient fiction for the Elf.

Lily’s talk had now wandered off into talk of the new additions to the prolific Bywater clan. Her sister Violet, it seemed, had just had twins, and what with the other eight children in the family Lily was thinking the family ought to pitch in and get Violet some extra help for the new babies. One of the younger cousins, she thought, could come and stay for a while and see her through the first few months at least.

Amaranthas snapped out of her musings as Lily’s words crept into her consciousness. ‘Why Lily! That’s an excellent idea. It’s a wonder I didn’t think of it first myself!’ Lily looked at the older Hobbit, and frowned. Now why would Amaranthas be thinking about Violet and her babies? She shrugged it off as just another odd statement from an oldster whose mind might be slipping a little more with the passing years.

She wasn’t surprised when Amaranthas sped her out the door shortly after making her comment. The Old Hobbit was known for her abruptness and her lapses in sociableness when the mood struck her. Lily, just happy for the time she’d been allowed to share her news, waved good-bye as she walked down the steps and headed home.

Lily had almost made it to the gate, when Amaranthas called after her. ‘Send young Hap round in an hour, won’t you dear? With his pony. I need a message delivered to someone in Hobbiton. There’s an extra penny for him, if he waits for an answer and brings it back.’

mark12_30

03-08-2003, 09:01 AM

Ah. There was a nice comfortable grassy spot in the sun, with a treetrunk he could lean against. Frodo hefted Pippin off of his shoulders, set him on his feet, and called out to Sam's other children. "Don't go far, and stay together."

"Why are you sitting down, Mister Frodo?" Pippin asked.

"I've got a letter to read, lad, " Frodo said. "Sit beside me, if you'd like. How much can you read?"

"I'm learning to write my name, " Pippin announced proudly.

"Well, you're off to a fine start, " Frodo nodded with approval. Not too far away, Merry-Lad, Frodo-Lad and Rose were laughing and arguing over a frog they had found in the stream; Frodo-lad was trying to frighten Rose with it, but Rose wanted to hold it and keep it as a pet.

Frodo waited 'til Pippin had sat down close to him and gotten comfortable in the sun, and then he unfolded the note and began to read. As Pippin watched, Mr. Frodo grew serious, and a little sad.

Frodo raised his eyes. Bywater pool was a brief gambol away, with the sunlight shimmering on the breezily rippled surface. The boys would enjoy it, he thought.

He looked up, to see Elanor gazing down at him expectantly.

He lifted the letter again, and very carefully folded most of it back, so that only two sentences remained in Cami's spidery script (how very like Bilbo's, he thought.) "Elanor, I'd like you to read these two sentences for me, " Frodo said, motioning her to sit down beside him. Wide-eyed, she obeyed. She read clearly and carefully, and Frodo smiled.

"I plan to check on Lorien tomorrow. If he follows my advice, he will be staying in one of the deserted burrows on the far side of Bywater Pool."

Rose showed up with the frog, dripping a little. "What are you reading?"

Frodo considered her. "Wipe your hands, and give me the frog, and you'll read it too, " he said. Rose grew very excited. She passed the frog to Mr. Frodo, and rubbed her hands on the grass, and presented them.

"No, too muddy. Your hands must be cleaner than that when you read, " Frodo admonished her. "Go rinse them again."

Rose ran off, and Elanor and Frodo shared a smile. She returned with very clean hands. Frodo gestutured at Elanor, who carefully handed her the still-folded letter, and Rose sat with furrowed brow and slowly read the two sentences. Merry-Lad and Frodo-Lad had come over to see what was going on. Frodo-lad looked over her shoulder, and Mr. Frodo smiled as Frodo's lips moved and he sounded out the words, not waiting for Rose to finish.

"I know where those are, Mr. Frodo, I know, I can show you, " Frodo-Lad proudly announced. "Let's go and see him!"

"Do you? Splendid. Well, how does a trip to Bywater Pool sound to the rest of you?" There were enthusiastic nods all around. "Well, then, Mr. Frodo Gamgee, you lead the way. But first-- Rose, does this frog have a name?"

Rose shook her head.

"Don't you think you should give it one?"

Rose nodded. "But I don't know what to call him."

"Well, perhaps we'll think of a good name as we go. Ready?"

Frodo-lad strutted in the lead as they all trooped off.

ArwenBaggins

03-08-2003, 09:12 AM

Elanor hopped along, right behind her brother Frodo-lad. She stopped and turned, watching Mr. Frodo being enveloped by her younger siblings.

"Excuse me, Pippin. Let me through." She softly pushed little Pippin to one side. With a little surprise from Mr. Frodo, Elanor grabbed his hand. She smiled up to him in excitement. There were so many questions to ask him!

"Um... Mr. Frodo... can I ask you some stuff ‘bout the journey you and Papa took to destroy the Ring?" She waited anxiously, like a small child. Frodo nodded, making her smile larger.

"Well... What was Rivendell and Lord Elrond like? What was it like to be in the Fellowship to destroy the Ring of Power? Papa tells us about them all the time, but sometimes I think he pulls a few stretchers."

Frodo laughed a little. "Oh, does he? That's like Sam. Well, Rivendell is a beautiful place. All of the rooms have trees growing right up from the ground. They are always bright, because they all have enormous windows."

He continued on, speaking of the Fellowship and every adventure that they had. Elanor’s eyes were like saucers, nodding in agreement to every statement she liked. Soon Frodo-lad told the group they were near, and Elanor finally asked Mr. Frodo no more questions.

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-08-2003, 11:13 AM

It took Cami several more hours to complete her preparations and leave the Inn. She searched through the kitchen and supply closets, coming up with a number of things Lorien might fine useful. By the time she was ready to go, she had a large sack filled with practical household tools and equipment as well as foods that could be stored in a larder. Then she grabbed two brooms and a bucket, rags for cleaning, and a bar of household soap, and went barrelling out the door.

The Bywater Pool was not far away, but Cami could not easily carry this many goods on foot so she hitched up a pony cart from the stables. The burrows lay on the northern edge of the pool. They were not in ideal shape as they had been deserted some fourteen years before, when Sharkey and his men came to the Shire and turned everything upside down. Unlike Bagshot Row, this area had never been rebuilt, since the new homes were constructed closer to the Dragon. Cami did not care for the newer fashion of living in snug farmhouses rather than snug holes, but she reasoned that folk should be able to chose whichever they liked best.

As Cami approached the northeastern side of the Pools, she could see Lorien in front of the largest burrow. He looked dirty and tired and scruffy. He was kneeling on the bank of the stream that fed into the pool, attempting to wash out his jacket, but not doing a very good job at all.

Cami put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. It almost seemed to her as if Lorien had never had to do any practical things before, and was totally lost when it came to even the simplest matter.

"Here, let me do that." She interrupted and took the jacket away, scrubbing it against the rocks and using the bar of soap she'd brought with her from the Inn.

As she worked, she attempted to coax him to talk. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better than last night, I suppose. But my head is still splitting, and the burrow is dank and dusty, and far too small."

Cami nodded, "I can't help about the "small" part. It's all we have in Bywater. I don't think Pio is going to let you back into the Inn, so I brought some things for cleaning the hole. These should take care of the dank and dusty." She pulled out her assortment of brooms and buckets and rags.

"You've eaten, I expect." Cami motioned towards the food that she carried in her bag.

"Eaten? No, I guess I forgot to do that."

Forgot to do that? Who would forget to eat? Cami looked up startled.

"Well, let's take care of that first then." She dipped into her bag and spread out a small feast in front of Lorien in typical hobbit fashion, but he seemed reluctant to eat anything. He finally picked up a few crackers and started to nibble on them.

There was little talk during their meal. Cami helped herself to generous portions while Lorien ate a cracker or two. Cami also gave him the small bottles of blackish liquid, and suggested he drink them now, explaining "They're supposed to be very good for headaches and such."

Lorien looked doubtful, but his head was pounding so, that he was willing to try anything that might help. He poured the content of the bottles together into a cup and wolfed it down with a single gulp, making a terrible face and almost wretching.

"What's wrong? Cami demanded. "You've never had herbal remedies before? Most of them taste like that, except for the ones the Elves make."

Lorien did not answer, but merely rolled his eyes.

When they were finally finished, and Cami had cleaned up the remains of their meal, she decided to broach some serious questions with him.

"I've been thinking about what you said. I'm trying to decide what to do, but I've got a few questions."

As Lorien stared back at her with a blank face, Cami responded with some irritation, "You do remember last night, don't you?"

"Last night? How could I forget? It was one of the most miserable nights of my life."

"No, I mean the part about the message. The things you told me about Bilbo and Maura."

Lorien sighed and glared back sternly at her, "Yes, I remember. Despite what you think, I am very much in control of things."

"Good," said Cami, "because that's just what I was going to ask about. Since you're in control of things, can't we make this arrangement permanent rather then temporary? If you can do one thing, you can surely do the other."

Lorien gazed over at the hobbit sitting on the grass. She seemed so small and hopeful, so very expectent. It was the first time he'd actually looked at her.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't do that."

"But why not?" Cami pleaded. "You're a Vala. You can do anything you want."

"No. I'm sorry." His voice was uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

"But you must be able to. Pio says you control things." She did not add the other part about making people's lives miserable, but her yearnings were so intense that Lorien had little trouble reading the unspoken words.

"Whatever Pio says, it doesn't work like that. I'm not even sure I could do the thing you ask. But even if I could....I have rules, just as you have rules. If I tried to do something like that, I'd get us in terrible trouble."

"Anyways, the part about controlling things." he added. "You're a hobbit. To be truthful, I don't have a great deal of control over your life at all, since, for the most part, you stand outside the music."

"You know, Cami, if it hadn't been for your involvement with Bilbo and the voyage on the Star, you would never have crossed paths with any of the Valar. Hobbits generally don't, and aren't supposed to.

"Why not?" Cami pressed.

"What happened last night should give you an idea. It never seems to work out well. There are misunderstandings. Folk get hurt. It's better we go our separate paths."

"None of this seems fair. The 'staying apart' or the 'temporary.'"

"Perhaps not, but this is the best I can do. Even if you were to plead on bended knee in front of Manwe, he could do no better than I am offering. You will need to think about it, and tell me what you decide, and how you prefer to set things up, if you do go ahead."

"Wait, I've one other question. Maura? Did you speak with him?"

"No, Gandalf took the message to him."

"Then what did Maura say," Cami pushed for an answer.

"I do not know. Gandalf did not tell me."

Cami sat back on her heels and looked upset. Then, how will I ever decide since I don't even know how Maura feels about this.

"Wait, just a minute," Lorien pressed his fingers against his brow as if he was trying to push down the throbbing and remember something important. He reached inside his belt and fished around a bit, retrieving a much-battered envelope.

"Here, I forgot this. Gandalf gave it to me for you."

Cami reached out her hand and hastily looked down at the packet. She did not even have to open it. Her name was written in a bold clear script that Cami would have recognized anywhere. She picked up the envelope and pressed her lips softly against the inscription.

"Thank you. This should help. I will come back and give you my answer tomorrow."

She slipped the letter into her bag, restraining herself from ripping it open. It would be better to read in the privacy of her room where she could carefully think on it.

"You're going then?"

"Going, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to clean that dirty burrow." She took a look inside and scratched her head. This place would need a whole army of hobbits to get it clean! She rolled up her sleeves and began working, wondering if there was anyone she could call on for help.

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Carrûn

03-08-2003, 01:03 PM

Frodo-lad was somewhat annoyed that his sister was no longer bothered by small creatures, even ones as strange looking as frogs. Giving up, he let her keep the frog and walked over to where Mr. Frodo sat.

Glancing over his namesake's shoulder Frogo Gamgee read over the letter. With some excitment his realized that he understood it (at least he thought) perfectly. "I know where those are, Mr. Frodo, I know, I can show you," he proudly announced. "Let's go and see him!"

[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

Nurumaiel

03-08-2003, 01:26 PM

Angelica set down the steaming plate of eggs and bacon in front of Fosco as she continued scolding, "Fosco, I hope you realize I'm very disappointed by you. You had no call to act that way towards your sister."

"She didn't call for me to, but she was just telling me with her eyes," Fosco protested. "She was calling… with her eyes."

Angelica turned and pretended to sneeze. She would not laugh.

"And, Mummy, she threw pudding at me back."

"I'm glad she threw pudding back at you," said Angelica. "It will teach you a good lesson you shouldn't forget. If she had done that on her own I would be giving her a good spanking this very moment, but since Miss Pio approved, and even helped her, so - "

"Mum, there's someone at the door for you! He has a message!"

Another one? Angelica thought. Goodness, what is it this time? Aloud she said, "Bring the message here, Madoc! I'm making breakfast, I can't come."

A minute later Madoc came in, holding out a letter. Angelica took it from him and looked down the hallway towards the door. "Madoc, up until now you have been the most respectful of my rule… closing the front door?"

"He said he'd wait for a message back."

"Very well, then. Your breakfast is ready. Sit down and eat it; I'll go to the door with the message back."

Angelica opened the letter and read quickly. She did not want to leave whoever it was standing at the door.

Angelica Baggins Muddyfoot
Hobbiton, Westfarthing, the Shire
22 Thrimidge

My dear Angelica,
I was so happy to hear that you had agreed to be the midwife for Mistress Piosenniel. I know that everything will go well now that she will be in your capable hands.

It occurred to me that there is something we need to discuss with her, and I am hesitant to bring it up on my own, since I think she may simply shrug off the suggestion as the worries of an old Hobbit. Coming from you, though, she may be more receptive, since she will view you and your opinions as being authoritative on the subject of babies.
We both know that this will be her first time as a mother, and twins can be very trying even to the most experienced. She has no family to help her out, as you know, and so the burden of two demanding little ones will fall entirely on her shoulders. I'd like to propose that we convince her to have a nursemaid once the babies arrive.

Now, I've given some thought to whom this might be, and I think I've got one who would be a perfect match for Miz Pio. We're distantly related on my mother's side. I know she's free, not married yet, has a good head on her shoulders, and dotes on babies and younger kids. And she's had plenty of experience, being the oldest in a family of twelve. It's Gillyflower Took, I'm thinking of - Everard Took and Menthes Brandybuck Took's daughter. They're the family from Waymeet in Westfarthing. Everard's the son of old Adelard who passed on some ten years ago.

What say you to this idea?

Miz Pio should be asking to see you soon to talk over the particulars of the birthing. That is, once she gets settled in with her husband, who has just arrived today at the Green Dragon Inn. I was hoping you can bring it up then with her, if that is agreeable with you.

I shall await your answer before I write Gilly.

Sincerely,

~~~ Amaranthas ~~~
Amaranthas Bolger

Angelica re-folded the letter and left the kitchen, calling down the long hallway as she entered her bedroom, "I'll be there in just a moment!"

Taking a paper and pen from her desk drawer, she began to write a very elegant reply. The letter soon changed, however, as she heard battle-cries from the kitchen.

Dear Amaranthas,
I have read your letter and I have thought it over carefully, and it seems that that would be a wise choice. I have spoken with Gillyflower Took on occasion. Though I do not know her very well, we've happened to cross paths and she seems most suitable. You may write her and ask.

Angelica Muddyfoot

Angelica grabbed the letter and half-ran down the hallway towards the front door, yelling into the kitchen as she passed, "You stop that right now, Fosco Muddyfoot!" She knew it was him.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, sir," she said to the hobbit standing at the door. "Here is the letter for you to take back to Miss Bolger. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some children to attend to."

The hobbit grinned and hurried down the path, while Angelica turned and marched towards the kitchen, an angry expression on her face.

Orual

03-08-2003, 01:27 PM

Sam closed the door slowly after the children had filed out after Frodo. Only Goldi and Hamfast were left. The former was sulking in her room, and the latter was sleeping, so the Gamgee parents were left alone. Rose watched as Sam walked into the living room, a strange look on his face, and picked up some letters that he had not opened. She followed him, threw her around his shoulders and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so glad that you asked him!" she exclaimed, hugging him. "You won't regret it. Did you see his face? He wants to see you! He misses you as much as you miss him."

"Does he?" Sam muttered, not so much out of real doubt as just for the sake of argument. If at first he had been a little hurt, then resolved, he was now just plain confused. Frodo didn't seem to want to come, not at first, but then Rose was right--he had looked pleased, even excited after he accepted. "Rose, I just don't know what's going on."

"What's going on is two old friends who think they've grown out of each other, and are both afraid it's true," Rose said softly, taking a seat by Sam on the couch. "Neither of you want things to have changed. I think that you both fancied your meeting to bring you back twelve years, to when you were always together, to when you were like brothers. But twelve years apart changes people, Sam. You weren't the same man that I knew after you returned from your Quest. You had seen things that I'll never see, experienced things that I'll never understand because I'll never experience them. It's the same with Frodo, now, only you're in my position this time. He's seen things and experienced things that you haven't, and probably won't ever."

Sam did not interrupt Rose, but silently he contradicted her.

She went on. "And where it was only a matter of a year and a few months with you and me. This time it's been twelve years. Sam, things change, people change."

"So should I even try?" Sam asked, a little irritably. He put down the letters and looked at Rose, who looked back at him evenly.

"You didn't let me finish," Rose said gently. "Things change and people change. But some things don't. I still loved you just as much when you came back, though you had changed. And you still loved me, though you saw me with new eyes. What we shared didn't change at all. And I don't think that what you and Frodo share has changed either. You and he experienced things together that nobody else will ever understand--not me, not the children, not even Bilbo. It'll be a little uncomfortable for a while--you'll remember our first meeting after you came back. I even said some silly things because I didn't know what you'd been through. Silly things will be said, Sam, and you'll have to feel your boundaries. Once you know your boundaries with each other, you'll know how to speak to each other, and the boundaries will expand until they're gone, and you'll remember your old friendship. Just give Frodo a chance, Sam, and he'll give you one."

"You're sure?" Sam asked quietly. Rose was making a lot of sense, he realized that. But somehow he would have to see it before he believed it.

"Quite sure," Rose replied. "I know you, Samwise Gamgee. I married you, didn't I? If after a year in which so much happened I still knew you well enough to marry you, then you and Frodo, after twelve years, will still be able to talk. Promise."

Sam smiled and gave his wife a hug. "Thank you, Rose. I needed to hear that."

She let him be for a moment, then gently pushed him off. "Finish your letters, Mr. Mayor. I didn't do anything but tell you what you already knew. You just do what you need to, and I know it'll all work out for the best."

piosenniel

03-08-2003, 04:03 PM

Hap Bywater took his time returning to the Old Dragon’s house. Sure, there was the promise of the extra penny for him once he returned with the reply, but Miss Amaranthas scared him. Her and her blackthorn stick. His feet dragged up the dusty path to her house.

Ah! She was nowhere in sight! He sprinted to her porch and left the letter in front of her door, rapping loudly on it twice. Then off he hared like a rabbit with the hounds after him. Penny or no, he was not staying about ‘til she answered.

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

Amaranthas opened the door, only to see a whir of dust moving back down the path. ‘Just as well,’ she thought. ‘Now I don’t have to lighten my purse for that lackwit.’ She was in a particularly prickly mood at the moment as the ride home on Pio’s horse had jarred her bones and set them to aching. She hobbled back to her chair and placed the heated bricks, wrapped in flannel against her hips, letting the warmth of them ease the pain.

Angelica had agreed with her. Excellent! She reached to the small table beside her, drawing the small, portable desk there onto her lap. She tapped the pen against her cheek, thinking how she might word her letter.

The afternoon sun poured in warmly through the open window by her chair, and just outside on the tall spikes of lavender foxglove, the fat bumblebees made merry with the sweet, inviting flowers. Their thick hum was soon punctuated by the scritch . . . scritch of her pen moving across the vellum.

A little fine sand to blot the ink, and she folded the letter carefully in thirds, addressing it boldly on the front:

Gillyflower Took
Waymeet, West Farthing

Tomorrow she would catch the postmaster on his rounds and send it off.

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

mark12_30

03-08-2003, 07:21 PM

Frodo watched as the boys began exploring the abandoned holes. Rose and Elanor stayed close to him, looking up at him expectantly. He turned to Rose. "Keep an eye on the boys for me; if they get into mischief, tug on my sleeve. "

"Yes, Mr. Frodo, " Rose said, and turned her sharp young gaze on the frolicking boys.

Frodo turned towards the presence he felt in the abandoned hole, and gently sent a thought: You are still in pain, I see. I am sorry.

Why do you ask? the Vala queried.

Concern and pity, Frodo replied. You are not used to wearing a body. May we come in, please?

But children are so noisy, and my head does hurt so, the Vala objected.

"Frodo; Merry; Pippin, " Frodo called. The three boys scrambled towards him and he met each of their eyes in turn, and then Rose and lastly Elanor. Everyone waited.

"Mr. Lorien does not feel well, " Frodo cautioned the children. "If we go into his house to visit him, and to help him to feel better, then we must be quiet and gentle."

Five curly heads nodded earnestly.

We will not disrupt your comfort, Frodo told Lorien.

I have none for you to disrupt, but if you don't make my headache any worse, I'll have no complaints, the Vala replied.

Frodo smiled, and removed his pocket-hankerchief and handed it to Elanor. "Take this to the pool, and get it cool and wet, but not too dripping," he said. Then he pulled his water-bottle off of his belt, and emptied it. "Rose, rinse this well, and fill it with cool water. You'd best let me hold the frog 'til you're done." Rose surrendered the frog and capered towards the pool with the water bottle. "Frodo, Merry, has your father taught you which herbs are good for clearing the mind and healing a headache?"

They nodded. "We'll go hunt for some, " they replied enthusiastically, and headed for the hillside. Frodo suspected they knew exactly where to look. Only little Pippin was left. "But what can I do?" he said, a little sad.

Frodo bent near him. "Can you sing?"

Pippin smiled. "Oh, yes. I know six whole songs."

"Do you know any quiet lullabyes?"

"Yes! Sometimes I sing it with Mama over little Hamfast."

"Sing it for me know."

Pippin's clear little voice rang out shrilly and powerfully, and Frodo motioned him to sing more softly. He giggled. "Sorry."

"A lulabye is for helping somebody sleep, not for waking them up, " Frodo admonished him.

"Uncle! I know that," Pippin said indignantly.

"All right then, try again. And softly this time."

Pippin's voice, softer now, caressed the breeze so gently that Frodo decided he would like Pippin to sing him to sleep sometime.

The boys returned with several bunches of wild herbs, lavender, rosemary, kingsfoil, and Merry had added several wild roses. Frodo thought the herbs would do very well.

Elanor returned with a nicely dampened pocket-hankerchief, and Rose presented a water-bottle full of cool, fresh water. Frodo nodded, quite satisfied, and put the frog in Rose's free hand, and turned to lead them into the abandoned hole. "Let's go and soothe Mr. Lorien a bit, " Frodo said, and they all nodded very seriously and followed him inside as quiet as hobbits can.

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

Cami thought she saw motion out of the corner of her eye, and putting her broom down, came to investigate. Her jaw dropped.

Lorien was flat on his back, in the warm sunshine in front of one of the few windows. Elanor was laving his brow with a cool, damp pocket hankerchief; in one hand, Rose held some cool water nearby for him to drink, although the other hand held a frog; Frodo-Lad and Merry-Lad were methodically crushing several handfuls of herbs, and the room smelled wonderful; and Pippin-lad was singing a lullabye that brought tears to Cami's eyes.

Frodo came and took her elbow. "They'll keep him busy for a little while, " Frodo said. "I told Pippin to sing til Lorien falls asleep, and then for all the children to go back to the hillside and play within my sight. Now... what say you take a break from cleaning, and talk to me. Hmmm?"

Cami hesitated. "I hate to stop once I've got a project started, " she said.

"If the children have enough of a play-break, they might be recruited to help you clean, " Frodo argued.

Cami melted. "All right, then. Let's go and sit on the bank."

They went outside in the sunshine, and sat side by side watching the ripples on the water.

Child of the 7th Age

03-09-2003, 12:02 AM

Cami watched the sunlight reflect off the water and break into a hundred tiny shimmering rainbows. She dangled her feet over the side of the bank and let the cool water slide over her toes. Her arms and back ached from all the hard scrubbing she had done. More than that, her mind felt as if it was running in circles.

Cami looked out across the pond, careful to avoid Frodo's eyes, uncertain how to begin. "I don't mean to drag you into this. I imagine you've got enough to worry about with Sam and Bilbo."

"And I am conerned about Bilbo myself. He has done this for me from the goodness of his heart. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. And I'm afraid he'll be very upset when he hears what's happened to Lorien."

"You know, he doesn't seem so bad this morning. Lorien, I mean."

Frodo looked at her and smiled. He could remember one or two nights in his own past when he would have had trouble answering questions, either coherently or gently, if someone had shouted in his ear to awaken him.

"Only I don't know what to do. Lorien has given me a choice. To accept, or not to accept. And even if I accept, he says I still must decide how to arrange things."

"How will you choose, Cami?" Frodo asked.

"I'm not sure, but Lorien gave me a letter from Maura." She patted her belt. "I promised myself I'd read it later. Tonight, in private. I expect that will decide whether I say yes or no. But there's still the question of whether it might not be best if we went off on our own. Maybe it would be better not to involve any of our friends or kin."

Cami looked over to Frodo with heartfelt eyes, "Frodo, how did all this come about? I'm not like you. I only wanted a quiet life and a home, maybe a few books to read, a husband to love, and children to teach. But it's not turned out like that. I can accept that, but I never expected my choices to fall on my friends as well."

"Last night, with Pio....she only meant to protect me." Cami's voice trailed off.

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

03-09-2003, 03:41 AM

Pio lathered up the soft scrub brush and ran it in lazy circles on Mithadan’s back. Cook had asked Ruby and Buttercup to fill the large cauldron with water and she had heated it over the large cooking fire to a pleasantly warm temperature for his bath. Prim had provided the refreshing bath salts from the supply Gammer Nutmeg brought round once a month for the benefit of the guests at the Inn. And Hob and his assistant had drug in one of the unused horse watering tubs big enough for a tall Man to comfortably bathe in.

This was the third round of bathwater, and it appeared from the relative clarity of it, that the main layers of grime and dirt had already been scrubbed and rinsed off with the first two fillings. This last one was for sheer enjoyment and relaxation. And Pio was hoping that he was very relaxed as she approached him with her concerns.

They had been talking about the small details of daily life – little things that had happened that each had missed out on with the other in their long absence from one another. Mithadan filled her in on his refit of the Lonely Star and his success in selling the dagger they had brought from Númenor. He talked about his visits to his brothers’ houses in Lond Lefnui, and some offers made to him to commission the Star for trading voyages.

Pio had prattled on about daily life in Bywater, and especially at the Inn. She had to repeat herself several times when she told him of the dinner party that she and Cami had given last night for Bilbo and Frodo. Mithadan allowed for the fact that Bird had arrived last evening, but he was still skeptical that it was indeed the Cami that they knew who was now staying at the Inn. And Pio had spent the better part of an hour explaining exactly how the reunion had come about, and promising that as soon as Cami returned to the Inn, Pio would bring her in to see Mithadan.

‘Your meeting with Cami is only a minor concern for me, Mithadan. I know, for a fact, she does exist here, in this time. And it will only be a matter of getting you two together to show you that I have not somehow gone over the edge into strange fantasies. ’ She poured a small quantity of mint shampoo into her hands, and working up a good lather, scrubbed the layers of grease and dirt from his hair. Two pots full of rinse water for his silvered mop and she deemed him squeaky clean from stem to stern.

He stretched out in the tub, leaning his back and head against the high side. Pio had obliged him with the addition of several steaming pots of water and he could feel the tight knots in his muscles begin to loosen. Pio sat on a stool behind him, working the tension from his head and neck with her long, strong fingers. Little curls of steam moved upward from the surface of the water, and Mithadan, eyes closed, was just on the verge of drifting off to sleep, when a sentence or two she had just uttered drifted beneath the layers of his exhaustion and prompted his attention.

His eyes popped open, and sitting up in the tub, he turned to look at her. ‘What did you just say?’ He shook the water from his ears, hoping he had somehow misheard her. ‘The Vala,’ he prompted, ‘what did you say about him?’

‘No use dissembling,’ she thought to herself. She sighed, and the whole story of Lorien and Cami and his message to her about Maura came tumbling out, interspersed with descriptions of the Vala’s fondness for mead and ale and his subsequent state of drunkenness. ‘You know that for the most part, I do not have a high opinion of the Valar and their dealings with the creatures of Arda. The brusque manner in which he delivered his message to Cami, and her tears pushed me to the edge. And a little beyond, to be honest. I have to admit I was not very politic in the handling of the situation.’ She explained, in a very brief manner, the incident with the knife, how Bird had stayed her hand, and how she had, in the end, thrown him out of the Inn.

Mithadan blanched beneath his tan, his eyes widening at her words. ‘Oh, Piosenniel,’ he said in a quiet tone, ‘what have you done?’

‘To be truthful, I am not quite sure what I have done. The possibilities, though, all unclear to me, weigh heavy on my mind. I do know I would not have my dislike for this Vala cause any pain for Cami - she has enough pain to deal with already. Nor would I have it cause problems for any others of those I love.’ At this her arms went protectiveley around her belly.

She took his water wrinkled hand and nestled her cheek against it. ‘But I was hoping, now that you are here, that you might see your way to somehow smooth this over for me . . .’

Birdland

03-09-2003, 08:23 AM

"Yes, Mithadan, and while you are at it, perhaps you could ask for your own ancestor to return from his voyage in the skies, and arrange to have Gondolin raised from the sea."

Bird stood leaning against the doorway, a steaming mug of tea in her hands, and an expression of disapproval on her face to match the tone of her voice. Mith quickly reached for the robe laying by the tub and wrapped it around him. "Woman, don't you ever knock?"

"Oh, now we're all worried about the proprieties, are we? After crossing the borders of a land protected by the edict of the King, wrestling with a Vala, snatching the Ringbearer back from the his time of healing in the West, and calling Cami back from her chosen time to offer her a hopeless respite from her duties?"

Bird stalked into the room, grabbing a towel from a bench and tossing it towards the head of the man. She sank down on the bench, and sighed, looking suddenly older than her years, and tired. Staring down into the contents of her cup, as if it were her own Mirror of Seeing. Without looking up, she said softly to the tall Elf, "Pio, what have you done here? Or is any of this even your doing? Have any of you asked just why all of this is occuring?"

"None of this could be happening - should be happening! Why are we all here again, in a land that is forbidden to us, and Cami a time that is no longer her own? 'Tis a sweet story: love denied will, by the Grace of the One, suddenly be granted, if only for a short time."

"But nothing comes without cost, and I have to ask: at what price? Why suddenly this interest in our own small doings? Before you treated a servant of The One as if he were a drunken drover, perhaps you might have taken the time to inquire just what cost He will demand from us for this "boon" to Cami and Maura?"

"I mislike this Pio. I mislike all of this. But I am here, as are you all, and I just have to ask: why?"

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

Mithadan

03-09-2003, 10:25 AM

Mithadan settled into a chair and covered himself as best he could with the robe and towel. He pondered all that had been said and listened as Bird voiced her concerns.

"Why, indeed?" he asked. "It strikes me that the Valar were well satisfied with the manner in which events played themselves out. The Hobbrim are settled on Meneltarma, the Hobbits were brought to the Vale of Anduin and both branches of the race settled into the needed obscurity. So why should they intervene now in this minor matter?"

Choosing his words carefully, he looked at Piosenniel as he spoke. "It seems to me that all that is transpiring was brought about by Bilbo's request that Cami...and Maura, be allowed some degree of healing, and indeed that they had earned it. But you will recall all our discussions and concerns about leaving the threads of time intact while we travelled through the Ages on our quest. Maura is...was needed in Tol Fuin and Cami with the Hobbits rescued from Numenor. These threads cannot be disturbed. So why would the Valar intervene now? The only answer is that they wish to visit some small kindness on our friends; as much as they possibly and safely can. And it cannot be said that this is being done without some risk."

Piosenniel listened silently to Mithadan's words without speaking and neither indicated her ageement nor her dissent. Mithadan continued. "Piosenniel, the decision to accept or decline this offer rests with Cami. She is not a child that you can rescue her from this burden. As for Lorien, he is a messenger bringing this offer from the Valar and perhaps effecting the choices of Cami and Maura. And if he has lacked diplomacy, consider who he is. He is one of the Great Ones and is, no doubt, unused to dealing with the concerns of politeness which are part of our everyday life. You should consider forgiving him of this, for he and the Valar have done much which they have no need to do, save out of some sense of compassion, odd as it may seem."

mark12_30

03-09-2003, 10:50 AM

Frodo pondered Cami's words, and stared at the glimmering water for a while before answering.

"Cami, I fought rather hard not to involve my friends in my decision to leave the Shire. I hid from them, I snuck past them, I evaded them." He turned to her. "And you know where that got me."

She laughed. "It got you on the road with three friends firmly attatched."

Frodo nodded. "And ere the end, none of them escaped peril, turmoil, or horror. Every one of them suffered. Despite everything that I did to sheild them, to deflect them from my life and my quest. And if I asked any of them, if they would rather have stayed home after all, each one of them would indignantly rebuke me and assure me that they belonged on that quest."

Cami stared at her toes.

"Your life is woven inextricably with your friends, Cami. That's why they are your friends. Don't withdraw from them, and don't shield them; let them stand by you, even as you would stand by them."

Cami studied the hair on her toes, knowing that she shouldn't be fighting Frodo's advice, trying to absorb it.

"Cami, if it hadn't been for Sam, I'd have never made it to the end of the quest. But there's another way to look at it, too."

"What?"

"If he hadn't had to get me there, do you think Sam would have gone? And if neither of us had been there, Gollum certainly wouldn't have been."

"But this isn't about the doom of the world. This is about my private life, " Cami said.

Frodo burst out laughing, and Cami looked up indignantly.

"Oh, " said Frodo, between guffaws, "it's just my coming of age, and coming into my inheritance, that's all. Nothing of import to anyone but me; just an excuse for a party, nothing more."

And then he sobered, and fell silent, looking towards The Green Dragon Inn. The little waves whispered as they lapped againt the sandy shore. There was a long silence.

"Cami?"

"What?"

"Where is your home?"

"Wherever Maura is, " she replied.

Frodo nodded, satisfied to hear her say it, and gradually they became aware of the children laughing and playing on the hillside.

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

Child's post

Cami had sat silently for a minute, thinking about what Frodo had said. Then she'd turned to thank him for taking the time to talk and offered him a shy hug. She promised him to think through everything carefully, when she returned to the Inn to read Maura's letter and make her final decision.

The two of them had gone inside with the children, and spent another hour dusting and polishing and scrubbing out the burrow. By the end of that time, things were considerably cleaner, and Lorien was beginning to look a bit more rested.

The Gamgee children said their goodbys and lined up behind Frodo to make the trek back to Hobbiton. Lorien came over to thank the children for their kindness and work, and watched them with a smile as they trooped out the door.

"Coming Cami?" Frodo asked.

"No, not just yet. I want to get a hearth fire started and make a dish or two that Lorien can put in his larder. Perhaps, by tomorrow, he'll feel a little more like eating."

"See you back at the Inn for supper?"

"For sure!" she nodded, then wait back inside to start her cooking.

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Birdland

03-09-2003, 12:05 PM

Bird stared, open-mouthed at Mith and Pio for a few seconds after the Man had completed this explanation. Then suddenly she burst out with a wild laugh, slapping her knee and spilling the mug, where the tea flowed and blended with the streams of bath water on the stone floors.

" 'A small kindness'?" she finally wheezed. "A small kindness is old Barliman standing me a few pints when my pockets are bare! Perhaps all this conniving is a small matter for the Valar to accomplish, but it has no small effects."

"Let's look at this: Three halflings suddenly appear out of nowhere, who had long ago disappeared. Now perhaps Cami's return could be explained away easily enough. 'Got tired of dealing with all those outlandish Big folk, and decided to return where people are normal'. But Frodo? I saw him traipsing off to Bag End this morning, behaving as if he had just returned from a long stay at Buckland. What are the good folk of Hobbiton to think of this? He was gone, bag and baggage, and all he owned given over to the Gamgees - who have done very well out of the deal, I might add. The Gamgees have 'risen', and Sam has gained the respect and trust of all the Shire. But Mark my words: tongues are wagging right now, saying that 'Mad Baggins' had come to reclaim his own, and that the Gamgees will soon be back to rooting taters for their betters."

"And why shouldn't they say that? For a Man enters the boundries of the Shire, ignoring the command of King Elessar that no Man shall cross these borders. A command that the King himself has declared he will obey. Then comes a letter from Mayor Sam, overturning this edict. Why? It smacks of conspiracy, Mith! And it will take more than assurances of 'small kindnesses' to dissuade people of these thoughts. The Halfling folk are a suspicious, insular lot, and with good reason. A small folk in a land of giants have little reason to feel otherwise."

Bird raised her hand as Mith started to offer an angry retort. "One more thing: when I spent time with Tom in the Old Forest, he told me that wilderness outside the boundries of the Shire are still filled with disaffected Men, bandits, low-lifes and riff-raff of the worst persuasion. Most were cast out after the War and the Scouring from their homes in Bree and Sarn Ford. Many of these brigands have been captured and killed by the Bounders or the Dunedain, but not all."

"Mith, did you see any of these Men as you were crossing the boundries? And more important: did any of them see you?"

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-09-2003, 01:05 PM

Bilbo sat on a bench near the front of the Inn, smoking his pipe and watching two large smokerings float lazily into the sky. Several red, bound volumes sat near his side. A messenger had delivered them that morning in response to his earlier request to Sam. Bilbo had also brought a blanket out to toss over his shoulders, thinking there might be a stiff breeze. But, with the warmth of the summer sun beating against his back, he let it slip to the ground where it now lay crumpled in a heap.

Sometime later, tomorrow or the day after, he wanted to have a last look at Bag-end. Hobbiton was little more than ten-minutes away. As long as he took things at a slow pace, he might make it there leaning against the arm of a friend. Or maybe he'd hitch up the pony cart, and go off on his own. Perhaps even pay a visit to Amaranthas, since she seemed to have a good deal more sense than a number of the younger hobbits.

But today was not the time for that. Hopefully, Frodo had made it over to Bag-end, and was now tramping through the Shire with the Gamgee children in tow. If Sam had even a midge of sense, he would corral his friend after the walk, and the two of them would sit and talk. The lad still lived too much inside his own head. He needed to stretch himself a bit, not worry so much about what others were thinking or doing, just push forward and let his wishes be known. Perhaps, they should set up a little dinner party of their own at Bag-end, with Sam and Pippin and Merry and Frodo. None of the womenfolk about fussing over spilt tobacco or too much ale, or setting out thirty-six different fancy dishes. A haunch of beef and a bit of brew. Just like old times!

Then there was the whole problem of Cami and Lorien. Cami and the others were tiptoeing delicately about, thinking to hide the latest news from him. As if he didn't have ears and hadn't heard the commotion last night! Being older had slowed him down a bit, but he still had his wits about him. With a racket like that, it was impossible to sleep. He'd had been woken up by the thunder of Pio's angry voice, and had gone over to the window to look outside. He'd heard the door of the Inn slam shut once or twice, and then seen a bruised Lorien moaning on the front steps. Cami had been moping about the Inn for some hours later, haunting the corridors like a wayward ghost.

The girl would come around. He was certain of that. He knew Cami too well, not to have some glimmering of how she was feeling. He hadn't been too keen on the 'temporary' part himself. He'd tried arguing with Gandalf a time or two to see if anything could be changed, but the wizard had sadly shaken his head and said that was the best the Valar could manage.

No, despite the upset, Bilbo was still convinced his request had been a wise one. If a hobbit was desperately hungry, would he turn down one hearty meal just because he couldn't see where he'd find the next? His own views were quite simple. Take what was offered in good grace and hope that what lay round the bend would be even better.

Not that everyone here agreed with him. Piosenniel had obviously been quite upset by Lorien's message. And that newcomer.... What was her name? Oh, yes, 'Bird.' She seemed to be a natural pessimist. She'd fixed a harsh eye on him in the hallway of the Inn, as if he was personally responsible for keeping Cami and Maura apart. A shapechanger should have more sense than that! Perhaps he should have a word or two with her, and straighten out her confusion.

For now, though, let them all spin their little webs. Bilbo was certain he'd be seeing Maura sometime soon. And, however painful a short visit might be, it was better than nothing at all. He promised himelf to give this lad from the First Age a thorough grilling to make sure he was worthy of Cami.

Still, if one assumed that Maura was even half the hobbit that Cami considered him to be, it was a pity these two couldn't spend their lives together, helping each other get through the hard parts. But, if the Valar were powerless to do anything more, there was nowhere else to go for help.

Or was there?.....Bilbo sat and thought a very long time. And then it hit him. He picked up one of the books by his side and thumbed through the Quenta Silmarillion. He finally found the passage he'd been searching for, and spent a long time reading and rereading it.

Perhaps this was foolishness on his part. He wasn't sure if any of this was possible. And he'd done nothing to merit such a thing. Still a friend was in trouble. And Bilbo was not one to turn his back on a friend. He sat on the bench a very long time, pondering his options, and thinking that, despite his earlier reassurances to Frodo, how very much he'd miss the lad.

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Mithadan

03-09-2003, 02:20 PM

The relevance of Bird's question evaded him. Nonetheless, Mithadan answered. "As I told you in the Trade Inn, I was set upon by bandits before I reached Sarn Ford and was forced to go many days out of my way seeking to evade them. Then, after I left the Trade Inn, I came upon a character skulking by the road, behind a bush actually. Before he could introduce himself, I put the tip of my sword to him. He claimed his name was Stoat or some such thing and seemed rather hostile towards The Shire. He said that once I was caught by the Hobbits and ejected from their land, I could look for him in Bree if I wanted to join him and his fellows."

Mithadan looked at Bird in confusion. "Why do you ask?"

piosenniel

03-09-2003, 03:07 PM

Pio rubbed the back of her neck in exasperation. A headache had started behind her eyes, brought on, she thought by the angry tones she heard between her two companions. Or perhaps it was just the simple fact that she had neither slept nor eaten since the dinner party last night. She left Mithadan and Bird to discuss bandits and the price of assistance from the Valar, and went quietly to the Inn’s kitchen.

She smiled as she entered the cozy room. ‘An island of sanctuary in this sea of troubles,’ she laughed to herself, ‘and here I am a great over laden boat coming in to dock.’ The simple routine of the place comforted her. It was reassuring and something she could understand. Need a fire – chop wood. Making soup – carry in water, cut up vegetables, season to taste. Straight forward responses with none of the twists and turns of deciphering motives and meanings and extenuating circumstances.

Hob noticed her as she entered, and seeing her pale face hurried over. ‘Here, let me get you some tea with some of the fireweed honey gammer Nutmeg left for us today. From her own hives. Sweetest there is in the Westfarthing!’ He set the fragrant mug in front of her and she sipped at it gratefully.

‘And how about a plate of apple slices and seedcake to go with that tea?’ Cook placed the food in front of her, and returned to her vegetables for the stew, not waiting for an answer.

Food and drink and calm routine had a restorative effect on the Elf’s disposition. The headache was pushed back, and her thoughts moved over her problems with somewhat greater clarity. What had she been thinking to ask Mithadan to ‘fix’ this for her. Her cheeks tinged crimson that she had dared to do this. For a brief moment she considered asking Cami to help her approach Lorien, but that, too, was cast aside. Best to step up and simply do this myself, she thought.

Pio made herself another cup of tea, and sat thinking through her options. Mithadan had counseled that she consider who Lorien is. One of the Great Ones and no doubt unused to dealing with the concerns of politeness. This seemed to her a horridly poor excuse, but if it were true, it would certainly explain the crude way in which he had blurted out his message. Further, Mithadan had asked her to consider forgiving the unschooled Vala for this, saying that the Valar had done much already, out of some sense of compassion – seeming to imply that creatures ‘done for’ need be grateful for the great Ones’ actions despite or regardless of the outcome.

Search as she might, she could find no sense of ‘gratitude’ welling up in her.

Bird’s reaction came now to mind. She had railed at Mithadan’s image of ‘some small kindness’ being visited upon Cami, saying that, “A small kindness is old Barliman standing me a few pints when my pockets are bare! Perhaps all this conniving is a small matter for the Valar to accomplish, but it has no small effects." The ripples of this small kindness were spreading it seemed, and apparently not in a looked for way, or so Bird had implied. She chuckled at Bird’s choice of the word ‘conniving’ – it was a term that rang more true for her than the so called compassion of the Valar.

Pio rubbed her forehead, the pounding had begun to creep back upon her. She detested when events became hazy and she could not pick her way clearly through them. For the briefest of moments she longed for something she could slice cleanly through with her blade and be done with it. Enough of this untangling! One strand seemed only to lead to another, more knotted than before. She sighed. ‘Yes, and it is just that sort of approach that has put you where you are this moment.’

She was clear on one thing, and she thought Mithadan had misunderstood her on it. Cami’s decision to accept or decline the Vala’s offer was her own to make. And Pio would not step in there to counsel for or against her choice.

Her thoughts centered around the concept of ‘forgiveness’ as she finished her tea, and walked over to where Hob sat smoking his pipe contentedly, giving the evening stew a perfunctory stir now and then as he chatted with Cook and Buttercup. It was a slippery term, ‘forgiveness’, and she wondered if it entailed asking him to forgive her. The thought of that made her uneasy, and she put her consideration of the term firmly aside. She would deal with that when and if it came up.

‘Hob, bring ‘falmar round for me now, if you will. I have someone I need to see.’ Hob’s brows raised at this request, but she answered him not. And when the horse was brought round, she spoke a few quiet words into her ears, mounted to the saddle, and set off at a fair clip to the main road . . .

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

03-09-2003, 04:00 PM

He could not be far away, she reasoned. He was on foot. . . . unless he has sprouted wings like some balrog of old and flown off to safety . . . the thought amused her for a moment, then she clamped down firmly on this image and put it from her mind. This would not go well if she approached with such an attitude.

She sifted through her mind, thinking on all the places she had walked to in her early days at the Inn. Where could a mead-sick man get to in a hurry without arousing the suspicions of neighboring Hobbits? She recalled her late night visits to the Bywater Pool. A peaceful place under the moonlight. Where she had met the fox some months earlier who had delivered Bird’s letter. The dark of night hid the surrounding areas from her view, as she remembered. Only once had she gone there during the day- to retrieve a cloak she had left there when the night had grown warm. The day, in the harshness of its light, revealed less pleasant sights to her. To the north of the pool, what had been only rounded dark hillocks under cover of night were now revealed as rundown, unused burrows. They seemed sad somehow, haunted by old memories, and she had wondered that they had not been rebuilt for use by the growing number of Hobbit families.

She circled up along the western edge of the pool, toward the burrows, hoping to see some sign that he might have gone there. She kept well under the cover of a small copse of trees that grew on this side, cautioning ‘Falmar to step lightly. The burrows were in sight, and she dared to leave the protection of the trees for a closer look. ‘Falmar nickered softly, shaking her head in their direction. Tied outside one of the burrows, the one nearest the stream that fed into the pool was a cart and pony from the Inn. Her brow furrowed at this. So, he had been smart enough to borrow a cart. Or more likely, someone from the Inn had shown him sanctuary and taken him here.

Pio dismounted, telling ‘Falmar to wait for her beneath the trees. She took her knives and placed all of them in the leather satchel hanging from the saddle. Around the back of the deserted burrows she went, quickly and quietly, until she came round the one where waited the patient pony.

She rubbed her neck, taking a deep breath, then stepped up to the closed door and rapped firmly on it, speaking in a voice loud enough to be heard by the one she heard moving within.

‘Lorien! It is Piosenniel. Open the door, please. Let me enter. I have come to make what peace I can between us . . .’

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Birdland

03-09-2003, 04:49 PM

Bird made Mith go over the story of his meeting with Stoat again, biting her lip as she heard of this Man's skulking about the borders, and his offer to Mith of "work".

"What kind of work, I wonder? Orc's-work, most likely. Don't you see, Mith. The Halfling folk have done much to protect their borders, but these brigands know that the King's command gave them the backing they needed. Yet here are you and I, breaking that command, and instead of being dragged across the boundries and sent about our business, we have been welcomed!"

"Perhaps those of the Fellowship can find a distinction between us and other 'Men', but there are other folk who definitely won't. And when this news travels beyond the Shire - and be sure that it will - what will these brigands make of it? That the King's orders can be ignored? That Men are entering the Shire, and that the Mayor has allowed it?"

The little skinchanger shook her head. "They will find a wedge from this," she murmured. "A wedge that will make them think that they can get back at 'the little folk' who disgraced and hounded them. I don't like this, Mith," she repeated. "We have done wrong coming here, you and I. I can only hope that greater wrong doesn't come from it."

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-09-2003, 11:55 PM

The loaves of freshly baked bread filled the burrow with a rich aroma, which even Loren found inviting. Cami set the bread on a tabletop that she'd constructed from one of the doors Lorien had wrenched off the most dilapidated of the burrows. Cami scrounged through the other holes on her own, gathering up anything she thought might add a little comfort to the place.

Except for helping to drag back the makeshift table, Lorien sat quietly by himself watching Cami work. He'd finally offered to help with something, agreeing to walk over to a deserted apple orchard just the other side of the pond, and bring back some fruit. Cami promised to cook up a batch for apple butter, leaving some for Lorien, and bringing back the rest to Bird and Piosenniel.

With the first knock at the door, Cami thought it might be Frodo coming to help her finish the work on the burrow. She went over to draw back the latch and, within an instant, heard Pio's familiar voice. Her immediate thought was to bail out through the back window and run off in the direction of the orchard to warn Lorien to stay away. But, as she heard Pio's words, and, even more, her conciliatory tone, Cami thought it might be alright to push the door ajar and let the Elf come inside.

The hobbit smiled nervously and asked her friend to have a seat, expaining that Lorien was out gathering apples, but should be back shortly. She offered her friend a slice of fresh bread, apologizing for the lack of apple butter, a deficiency that she hoped would be remedied shortly.

"But why did you come?" Piosenniel asked.

"I wanted to try and get more information out of Lorien, but I ended up staying and trying to clean up this place. Frodo and the Gamgee children were over to help too."

"You know, Pio. This old place isn't half bad. A little more elbow grease and a few extra pieces of furniture, and it might actually be livable." Cami's eyes darted quickly around the room. It reminded her a bit of the very small burrow that Maura and his family had occupied in Gondolin.

"And Lorien?" questioned Pio in a low quiet, voice.

"Lorien's no Gandalf, but he's a bit like this burrow. He grows on you after a while. Doesn't make a good first impression, but there's more to him than you thought at first."

"Anyways, he did one good thing. He gave me this." Cami fidgeted under her belt and drew out an envelope with its seal still intact, showing it to Pio. "This is from Maura. I've been waiting to read it until I get back to the Inn. This should help me decide what to do."

It was at that minute that the door pushed inward, and Lorien entered carrying a bag of apples slung over his back.

[ March 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

03-10-2003, 03:23 AM

Pio put the uneaten bread down on the makeshift table. Her words echoed in her mind as he entered the door. I will have no more to do with the Vala. And for one wild moment she thought to push past him and keep that vow. But she reined in the impulse to flee and stood tall before him, her face calm, unreadable. Her grey eyes, darkened in the dim light of the burrow, were full upon him.

He did not look much the master of anything now. His cloak was tattered and grimy, his face pale and drawn from lack of sleep. There were scratches and bruises on his exposed skin from her rough handling. Even his eyes seemed dull as he looked up at her, surprised to see her there, hesitant that she might set on him again.

Pio took off her cloak, and held her empty hands out toward him.

I am unarmed, Lord Irmo, save for my tongue, and even that I have sheathed for now.

She placed her right hand over her heart and bowed to him.

I have come to make peace with you, Lord Irmo. And if you will, I would ask you to forgive those hurtful actions of mine. I will not justify them to you, but only say they were uncalled for. You are a stranger to the web of civility that smoothes the roughness from our interactions with each other. I should have recognized that and tempered the words you spoke with my understanding. I failed to do so, and for that I apologize. Again - please forgive me.

She bowed once more to him.

Pio picked up her cloak and drew it round her shoulders, fastening it carefully for the ride back to the Inn. She motioned to his bag of apples with her chin and at the pot Cami had out, ready to make apple butter.

You are busy here. Let me not take up any more of your time. I will leave you to the good graces and gentle hands of Cami.

She gathered her cloak around her, and spoke aloud. ‘Cook is making her mouthwatering stew for supper. And if my nose had the right of it, there was also a berry tart in the oven. If you would be so kind, the both of you, to come to the Inn tonight for supper, it would be our pleasure to have you there. Mithadan is looking forward to seeing you once again, Cami. And Lorien, I think he would very much like to meet you.’

Pio smiled graciously at the two of them, and bent to take an apple from the sack Lorien had set down by his feet. ‘For my horse and I to share. Shire apples are sweet, and we have a liking for them, she and I.’

She walked quickly to the door . . .

[ March 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

mark12_30

03-10-2003, 05:55 AM

mark12_30's post

The younger children gamboled and frolicked around Frodo as they headed back towards Bag End. Rose defended her frog against the curiosity of her siblings, and tried to talk Frodo into naming the frog for her a couple of times, but Frodo insisted that was her perogative and not his. Twice Pippin-lad asked to ride Frodo's shoulders again, and then wanted down again soon after when he saw how much fun the others were having. Elanor strode beside Frodo asking him questions about Arwen; Elanor was fascinated by her fame, her beauty, her wisdom.

"Perhaps some day I'll see her."

Frodo smiled. "Perhaps."

As they approached Bag End, Frodo fell silent, and Elanor watched him.

Frodo thought about Lorien, and about dreams; about the dreams that had troubled him for so long, and still occasionally cornered him, on his darker days. The elves had helped him extensively, and he was not hearly so troubled by them now as he had been in the past; nor were they as frequent. Nor were his dark days so dark as they once were.

He thought about the previous evening, about the time he had spent with Merry, Pippin, and Sam.

Sam had never been comfortable with Osanwe. Frodo thought back, with a little sadness, to the day Galadriel had tried their thoughts. "I felt like I hadn't any clothes on, and I didn't like it, " Sam had said. Sam's mind seemed sealed off to Frodo, and it grieved him; he longed for that barrier to come down, but he fought the longing even as he felt it.

Don't presume, he berated himself.

Merry's mind was open, and healthy, thought Frodo, reviewing Merry's war experiences. Two bouts of The Black Breath, one in Bree, from which he had recovered quickly; the second at Minas Tirith. Good old Strider had pulled him out of the shadows, using Osanwe. Merry remembered it, but it did not trouble him, as far as Frodo could tell.

He thought of standing on the edge of Pippin's thoughts and looking in. Pippin had welcomed him, nervous at first but then pleased, and comforted. Yet Frodo had sensed that all was not well. There was a darkened corner in Pippin's mind, a corner that held fear and troubled thoughts.

He wondered about that, and wondered if there was anything that he could do to help Pippin. He longed to; longed to be of some use, to accomplish something, to mend some of the damage he had helped cause in the first place. The discussion with Cami had brought back his own guilt about his friends' war wounds, and try as he might, the guilt niggled at him. Perhaps, he thought, I can help Pippin. I want to try.

They were drawing near the gate, and the children ran ahead, laughing and shouting. The boys headed into the garden and Rose and Elanor went through the front door, only to emerge immediately again as Sam came out.

Frodo hesitated, standing at the gate, and looked up to meet his friend's gaze.

Orual's post

"Sam! Frodo and the children are back...get up!"

Sam startled, and nearly dropped the hefty book he was reading when Rose called his name. "Don't forget to make him come in!" Rose shouted as he went to the door. He chuckled--make him come in? Rose made it sound like he would have to drag Frodo into Bag End, kicking and screaming. He stopped at a window by the door, and watched his children for a moment. They seemed to have had a good time. Rose and Elanor came in, and Sam smiled broadly at them. "You two seem to have enjoyed yourselves," he began, only to be interrupted by Rose.

"Elanor, Rosie, don't you let your father forget to invite Mr. Frodo in!" she called from the living room. Goldilocks came bursting out of the room as fast as her little legs could carry her, clamoring to be let in on the fun. Sam smiled at her, and she grabbed his legs and tried to trip him as he walked out the door. Rose and Elanor came out with him. "They all look like they've had a wonderful time, Mr. Frodo, thank you for taking them. I hope they weren't trouble?"

"No, not any trouble at all!" Frodo insisted, smiling at Rosie-lass as she showed a fully appreciative Goldilocks her frog. Goldi ooh-ed and aah-ed at all the appropriate spots. "We had a fine time."

"I'm glad," Sam said, and the conversation seemed to stop there. An awkward silence ensued, broken by Rose conveniently walking past with Hamfast and hissing "don't forget!" into Sam's ear.

Sam smiled at her, then turned back to Frodo. "Why don't you come in, Mr. Frodo? There's some tea that's almost ready, and I imagine that after taking care of this lot for an afternoon you're ready for something to eat!"

"They were very good," Frodo insisted, but he followed Sam into the hole.

Neither of them saw it, but Miz Rose was smiling as brightly as the midday sun in the room across the hall.

Sam led Frodo into the kitchen, and they sat down at the table as the tea-kettle bubbled behind them. There was a new resolution about Sam, and he dove right into the conversation, beginning by asking how Frodo was enjoying seeing the Shire again, and how his stay at the Inn was, and how Cami was now, it had been so long since Sam had seen her, wasn't she looking fine? Frodo answered all the questions that were posed to him in a lively fashion, though Sam could tell that he was wondering what on earth had come over his old friend to be attacking the conversation with such vigour.

Sam shook his head after he had finished a particularly involved set of questions, and set the tea steeping after the kettle began to sing. He gave Frodo a mug and set one before himself, and sat back down. There was a short silence, but instead of an awkward pause like the one outside, this one was more of a friendly quiet, accepted by both of them. "Thanks for coming over, Mr. Frodo," Sam said finally. "You know, you can drop in anytime as long as you're here. Somebody's always here, and I am a lot. There's a lot more paperwork to being a mayor than I had anticipated!" Sam laughed, and it trailed off to a smile. He looked up at Frodo. "Thank you, Mr. Frodo."

[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-10-2003, 08:43 AM

Mithadan, of course! What is wrong with my head?

Cami ran out to tug at Pio's leggings, just as the Elf climbed onto Falmar's back "Mithadan? He's alright? I apologize for not asking earlier. My mind has been too busy with other things."

"Yes, he's at the Inn, resting up. A little bruised and battered from the journey, but otherwise fine." Pio was careful not to mention anything about the apple, how deeply suspicious the shirriff had been, or Bird's feeling that their own arrival was only a prelude to further trouble. Hopefully, Bird was wrong, and those problems would fade away so that she could concentrate her own attention on the needs of the twins.

Cami pressed with one more question. "Then tonight, Lorien can come back to sleep in the Inn?"

Pio nodded. "I don't see why not. If that's what he'd prefer, I won't stop him."

Before leaving, the Elf turned quizzically to her friend, "But Cami, you and Frodo and the children must have put in hours of work here." She nodded back in the direction of the burrow.

"Yes, it does look better, but it's too small for Lorien," Cami observed. He's always bumping his head on the rafters. I'm fairly certain he'd prefer the bigger beds in the Inn. In any case, we might find another use for the burrow. Lorien and I should be back in an hour or so. I'm looking forward to that stew. Also, speaking with Mithadan and seeing the look on his face when I first walk inside!"

Pio rode off in the direction of the Green Dragon, while Cami and Lorien began packing up a few belongings that needed to be taken back to the Inn. But Cami made sure that most of the household goods, along with all the food stored in the larder, were left behind in the burrow.

[ March 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

03-10-2003, 10:45 AM

Pio skirted the pool to the West, stopping just at the line of trees as it touched near the water’s edge. She reined in ‘Falmar and dismounted. And taking the apple she had gotten from Lorien, she cut it in two. ‘Here,’ she said laughingly, ‘this is for you, for bearing me here today and listening to my tortuous reasonings on the nature of forgiveness. Always the good listener, eh?!’ ‘Falmar dipped her head once, then took the proffered treat gently, her greedy lips engulfing the slice with only the briefest of soft contact between them and the Elf’s trusting fingers.

Stepping carefully over the loose stones that lined the bank of the pool, Pio crouched down for a moment, trailing her hand in the water. On a flat rock, nearly submersed at the pool’s edge she laid the other half of the apple. A curious group of water fowl drew near, eager to see what had been left. Wary enough, they kept a distance still between themselves and her, calling irritatedly for her to leave. She dipped her hands in the waters once more and clapped them together, delighting in the bright jewels that sailed out from them, lit up by the westering sun.

‘And this is for you, little masters.’ She pushed the apple nearer the edge of the rocky surface, as the birds watched her, silent now. ‘Tell the One who never abandoned us, I thank him. But for my thoughts of him, I would never have bent my stiff neck to the other.’ She pushed the apple into the shallows of the water and withdrew, watching the birds as they raced to the offering.

Mounting ‘Falmar, she returned to the Inn, hastening, once there, through the familiar door and into the welcoming cheer of the Common Room . . .

mark12_30

03-10-2003, 03:29 PM

Frodo looked around, studying the old familiar curves and windows and doorways, the fireplaces, the furniture. A familiar sadness came over him, that Bilbo was no longer here to enjoy the place, that it just wasn't the same without him here.

"Mr. Frodo?"

"Excuse me, Sam, I'm sorry. Go on."

Sam continued his tale, even as Frodo remembered that Bilbo was only a short walk away. Indeed, he could come here. All could be, as it once was; better, in fact, for then Miz Rose the children weren't here.

Bilbo, Sam and Rose, and the children, all together with him in Bag End, all at once. His heart nearly broke with joy for the thought.

"Mr. Frodo? Why are you sad?" Elanor asked him. Sam was staring, too, and Sam had had enough pretense. "Now, Mr. Frodo, speak up. Tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing is wrong, Sam. I was just thinking how pleasant it would be to have you-- all of you, and Bilbo, all together, here in Bag End, all of us home again, and together... together at last."

Sam studied him. "I'd like that, Mr. Frodo."

"Oh, so would I, Sam. I should like that very much."

"Well, should we go and get him in the wagon? " Sam stirred as if to get up.

"No, not now, Sam; Bilbo was wanting some quiet, and very nearly threw me out of the Inn to get it. But I'll suggest the idea to him, if you're sure that you wouldn't mind, " Frodo said, pleading with his eyes.

Sam snorted. "Mind! Ninnyhammers and noodles, how could I mind! Mr. Frodo, I'd be delighted!"

"Sam." Frodo sighed contentedly, and Elanor studied him.

So Mr. Frodo really was fond of her dad; she could see it clearly now, and she approved.

Her eyes strayed to Frodo's right hand. She studied where his finger had been bitten off, and thought about her dad's struggle to get Frodo all the way to the Sammath Naur, and Frodo's final temptation, and his failure. She wondered why he had failed, then, at the end, when he was so close to succeeding. She wanted to ask him why he had given in. But she waited, looking back up at his eyes.

His gaze was fixed out the window. She followed his gaze, leaning a little. He was staring at The Green Dragon Inn.

Sam met her eyes, and settled her with a small movement of his hand, and waited. Eventually Frodo stirred, and glanced up at Sam. "It's good to see you, Sam, " he said. "It's good to see your children. Elanor is becoming quite a little lady."

Her eyes went wide.

"You'll give her airs, Mr. Frodo, " Sam cautioned, and Elanor bowed her head. The conversation turned to other things. She waited and listened, wondering what Mr. Frodo saw in her that made him call her a little lady. But she sat a little taller after that.

[ March 11, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 14, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-10-2003, 07:23 PM

As afternoon spilled into evening, Cami returned to the Dragon in the company of Lorien, making sure he got back safely to his old room. He said farewell to her at the door of his chamber but promised to join the others downstairs a little later.

Cami headed at once for the common room where Bird, Pio, and Mithadan were already seated and enjoying their stew. She stood in the hallway, with her body half hidden, then peered around the door with an impish expression on her face, and quietly slipped inside. Cami went and positioned herself silently behind Mithadan's chair, standing on tiptoe and leaning over to place an affectionate peck on the man's black curls. "You see, Mithadan, a little thing like two thousand years couldn't keep Aunt Cami away from those twins." Then, she walked to the table and sat down in a seat that Bird had been saving for her.

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

Child of the 7th Age

03-11-2003, 01:30 AM

It was late night when the laughing and talking ended, and Cami pulled away from her friends to return to her room. She lit a small lamp, placing it on top of the mantle, and sat cross legged on the floor, taking out the envelope and carefully breaking its seal. Cami slid the tips of her fingers over the familiar script, as if somehow willing herself to sense the hobbit who actually lay behind the words. She opened the letter and placed it on the floor, then smoothed out its creases and began to read with real hunger.

My little Andreth,

I sit here writing you on a small table in our family burrow, as twilight extends its silken fingers over our home on Tol Fuin. This is a place of goodness and plenty, where no enemies assail us. Much of the credit for this must go to you and your daughter, and your other companions on the Star. There are no words to express how truly thankful we are for the sacrifices you've made to keep our people safe.

Ancalimon has lately paid a visit to our shores to speak with my family and Lindo's. He has told us about Bilbo and the concern he bears for you, and how he begged the Valar so that you and I might come together for a brief moment, if we so wish.

When I first heard the news, I was dumbfounded. Cami, you know me well! This is Maura who feels that the doom of the hobbits lies closer to the big folk than to the paths of the immortal Elves or Valar. Whatever my other faults, I have never made a pretense of being more than I am. So you will have to excuse me, if I feel overwhelmed.

Having said this, I freely admit that you are much on my mind. When I walk near my home and spy a healthy patch of athelas, I think of you and your gift. When I hear Lindo's ballad about the night of freedom or Bird's wondrous transformation, I again see your shining face. And most of all, as I watch the children grow strong and healthy, I remember how you cradled them in your arms when all seemed lost, yet never gave up hope.

Do I wish to be together again, for however brief a time? Without any question, yes.

Yet, there are two things I must add. Cami, if you feel too uncomfortable with this arrangement, please tell Lorien that it is best we stay apart. I will respect your judgment. Neither will my feelings change.

This second thing is harder to say, but you must know the truth. Cami, I was not totally honest with you in Beleriand. From the first glimpse I had of you, when we ate dinner together that night, I knew there was something special between us.

Yet, how long did it take me to put my feelings into words? I invented a hundred excuses for staying silent. There was the hardship of the camps that made it difficult to look beyond the harsh needs of the day. Yet I kept imagining we would eventually have a whole lifetime together, so the special words could wait. And finally, there was me...who I am. The sensible Maura who is the epitome of hobbit common sense and who weighs all sides carefully and eternally before making any decision.

How wrong I was not to say something! Would it have made a difference? Probably not. But I won't make that mistake again. Whatever my feelings, I will honestly share them.

So here goes....Cami Goodchild, I love you beyond anything that's rational or sensible. I would follow you to the end of time and beyond. None of this will be easy, I know. But, together or apart, would you be my wife, and share whatever small hope we can bring to each other?

With all love,

Maura

Cami set the letter down and closed her eyes. She leaned over, her brow resting lightly on her fingertips, and sent a clear message though to Lorien. Tell Maura yes, and could you please bring him here as quickly as possible? She felt her thoughts acknowledged, and then crawled into bed and soon fell asleep.

When she woke in the morning, the sun was spilling its bright rays through the windowpane. Cami was startled to see a tall, slender, familiar figure with silver hair and grey eyes smiling gently down at her, perched on the very end of her bed. He'd obviously been there for some time watching her sleep. It was only then that she slipped out of the covers and ran to his beckoning arms, half laughing and half crying out her welcome.

[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

03-11-2003, 03:16 AM

Filibert Whitfoot relished the days when it was his turn to be Shire postman. He got up, before the crack of dawn, to make himself a big breakfast; then packed for lunch and snacks two or usually three sandwiches, an apple or two, some cookies, or a slice of cake, and a large flask of hot, sweet tea. He sorted the letters and packages by town and placed them carefully in order in his two leather satchels.

Amaranthas had gotten up early, and now stood, letter in hand as he made his way up the path to her house on his grey pony. ‘Can you get this to Waymeet today?’ she asked him. ‘Of course!’ he said. ‘To be honest, there isn’t much to deliver today.’ He looked up at the clear sky, the sun just a fingers width over the eastern horizon. ‘It’s starting out to be a fine day for a nice little ride on Willow here. Taking time for a little lunch, I think I can get it there by early afternoon.'

He took the letter from her, placing it in pocket for the outlying districts. As an added incentive, she gave him two lemon tarts she had baked just that day, wrapped up in a clean napkin. She watched him until he turned west onto the main road, wondering all the while what Gilly’s answer would be.

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

Dear Gilly,

You probably don’t remember me. I met you many years ago at a christening for one of your father’s sister’s children in Waymeet. I think you were about ten years old then, and I must say you were one of the more interesting people there.

I remember you drawing me aside (I had been sitting in the corner nursing a glass of the local ale, as I recall) and you were filled with the stories your cousin Pippin had brought home from the wars. Your eyes shone when you talked about those distant lands he had been to and the Elves and Men he had met in his travels. I could tell, even then, that the small confines of Waymeet would hem you in and chafe against your desire to see the wider world.

You must be about twenty now. A young women with ideas of her own and the mind to make them, somehow, become reality. I cannot offer you the same chances that Master Peregrin had, but I can offer you the chance to become acquainted with one of the Fair Folk (one Piosenniel) I have befriended here in the Shire.

To be blunt, she is in need of the services of a nursemaid, as she is soon to deliver twins – Midyear’s Day to be exact. Her husband, Lord Mithadan of Lond Lefnui in Gondor has joined her as they await this joyous occasion. Two babies and her being a brand new mother will be hard for her, and I thought to offer her your services if you would be interested. You would find her a very interesting person, I think. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she offered you the chance to accompany her and Lord Mithadan on their return to Gondor, and possibly on some of their trips aboard their ship.

I know how wonderful you are with babies and younger children. Your Aunt Clematis has written me many times praising your skills as a caretaker for the younger ones. Elven babies, I’m sure, cannot be much different from the little ones you have taken care of, and Mistress Piosenniel would be a most interesting person to work for. There will, of course, be room and board, and a small stipend offered to you for your services.

Please reply soon. And I am hoping that your reply will be one of acceptance.

Affectionately,

Amaranthas Bolger
Hobbiton, Westfarthing, The Shire

Gilly could scarce believe her eyes as she scanned the letter for the third time. She had just had a row with her parents that very morning, because she had brought up, once again, the question of her traveling to another town to seek work. What she had not discussed with them was that once she had a few skills under her belt other than weeding the garden patch, she intended to see as much of the Shire as she could. And, hope beyond hope, she planned also to travel as widely as was possible for her beyond the bounds of it.

And here was her first small step! She wrinkled her brow and thought hard about Amaranthas, trying to place her. She seemed to remember an elderly Hobbit who carried herself with a commanding presence. Other members of the family had deferred to her, as she recalled. Beyond that, though, her mind conjured no other memories.

She started to skip up the path to her family’s burrow, then thought better of her overly enthusiastic approach, and slowed to a more sedate walk. She would need to approach this offer from Amaranthas in a calm, firm manner with her parents. Gilly stood straight and squared back her shoulders. She meant to seize this opportunity with both hands.

Child of the 7th Age

03-11-2003, 03:31 PM

Maura slipped his arm about Cami's shoulders and clasped her to his chest. He slid his hand gently through her mop of curls, the brown and grey cascading down, now firmly intertwined between his fingers. Gently, he tilted Cami's head up until their eyes met once again, each taking in the fine details. Cami's face looked weatherbeaten, with rosy red cheeks and tiny lines etched into her skin, physical reminders of a life that was now lived largely out-of-doors. Yet Maura had never seen anything so dear.

"We are two old fools, Cami Goodchild." He whispered to her, hesitated a moment, and then spoke. "Isn't that what I should call you?"

"Before others, yes. But, when we are alone, call me by whichever name you prefer."

She picked up one of his hands and placed it on her right knee. Then she took her own and laid it beside his. Her own hand looked brown as a berry; his was paler but still tanned by the sun. Neither were smooth or clear or soft, but rough and calloused and a bit worn with age. Both hobbits had seen long hours of work in woods and fields and along the shore. Chores like planting and healing and teaching, tending to a family, and building a home. Every experience that had come to them over long, hard years was writ large on their bodies and hearts.

Cami looked over, her eyes sparkling with merriment, "In all of Bilbo's tales of Elvish lore, in every joining he describes, I've never encountered a pair like us."

"Perhaps, then, you and I will rewrite those books." He spoke half in jest and half in earnest, drawing Cami closer to him with infinite tenderness. Little Andreth, I will make you my wife. Here, today, in this place you call the Shire.

Cami looked up, startled by the words leaping into her mind. But I thought you told me......

Maura laughed as he planted a kiss on her head, What is between husband and wife, or done in times of danger, is different than idle conversation. In any case, can't a hobbit have one or two little surprises?

She looked up and giggled, then yanked him up from the bed. "Before there will be any exchange of vows, you must meet Bilbo and my friends. We can not lie here abed the whole day." Then the two joined hands like little children and ran off through the corridors of the Inn, wondering who would cross their paths.

mark12_30

03-11-2003, 04:21 PM

Frodo paced steadily towards the Inn. He was weary; Pippin-Lad had spent a fair amount of time on Frodo's shoulders, and although Frodo was quite used to tramping about, he wasn't used to scrubbing floors, wrestling boys, or tending frogs; and he certainly wasn't used to answering a barrage of questions. Even his face was tired from talking and laughing so much.

His time with Sam, he still had to sort out. More than anything right now he just wanted Bilbo's company. He thrust aside the looming shadow on the edge of that thought, and pressed forward.

He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his curls, bracing himself, eager for sight of his uncle.

He came through the doorway, and looked down the corridor. A grey-haired hobbit was approaching, followed closely by Cami; but he was slender and agile, and certainly not Bilbo. Then he looked at Cami's face.

Frodo's smile was followed by his glad laugh, and he stopped, and bowed. "You must be Maura, " he smiled, and laughed in response to Cami's eager introduction. Maura listened as Cami's words poured out in a rush, and then he bowed to Frodo.

Frodo studied Maura in the dim light of the corridor, and stepped closer. "Loremaster, I wish that there was time to listen to your tales and stories. I would relish what tales you had time to tell, " Frodo said softly.

Cami's startled expression embarassed Frodo, but he recovered quickly. "Of course, that is not why you have come. Don't let me distract you, " Frodo added, eyes sparkling.

"We have not yet sorted out where we will be and how we will spend our time, " said Maura.

"If I know Cami, I suspect she has plans, " Frodo replied with a smile.

Maura laughed out loud. "You know her well, I see, " he said, and brushed back a stray lock of Cami's hair with one hand.

She laughed, and nodded. "I've had a whole day, after all. Plenty of time to come up with--"

Maura interrupted. "Lists, and schedules, and tasks and chores and responsibilities and--"

"Trails and paths to follow, " Cami retorted indignantly, "and quiet places to sit and talk, and fields to stargaze in and a tree to climb--"

Maura's arms encircled her again. "That's better. You had me worried."

Cami mentally discarded her list of chores she had in mind, at least for the moment.

Frodo smiled at them. "I was about to go looking for Bilbo, " he said. "Have you seen him?"

"I'm looking for him!" Cami exclaimed. She surged ahead, Maura laughing as he hurried to catch up, and Frodo brought up the rear.

Child of the 7th Age

03-11-2003, 05:32 PM

Cami discovered Bilbo on a bench near the back of the Inn. The older hobbit sat at the table with a stack of notes piled in front of him, carefully inserting each into an envelope and affixing postage to the front. He looked up and smiled as they walked into the garden.

"Now, now, what have we here?" Bilbo rose on unsteady legs to greet the trio, extending his hand to the newcomer.

"Maura Took, here." the younger hobbit responded. "I owe you a great deal. Both for how you've helped Cami over the years, and in bringing us together."

"Ah, that. It's been a long time since Cami learned her letters at my table. As to the other, it was more Gandalf's doing than my own. Once I persuaded him, he took things in hand."

Maura looked puzzled by this until Frodo explained. "He means Ancalimon. He goes by at least half-a dozen different names."

Maura grinned. "So that's it. Now, I know who Cami takes after. She keeps changing her name from one day to the next." Cami nudged Maura in the ribs, her face pink with embarrassment.

"Now, Cami," Bilbo continued. "Surely there's some chore that's calling you, making lists and such. I know you'd prefer not to let go of Maura, but I need him for a minute." Cami backed off nervously as she caught Maura's eye, but he smiled and assured her he'd be fine.

"Alright, I'll check on the kitchen and then return."

"Take your time. There's no rush, at least for today." Bilbo's words sounded almost wistful.

Bilbo turned about to face the others, cleared his throat, and stared over at Maura, sizing him up and down. "Now, wasn't there something you needed to tell me....or rather ask me?"

Maura's jaw dropped open in embarrassment. How many young couples had be lectured on the need to show respect for parents and pay a formal visit to the elders? Yet, somehow, his own relationship had seemed different. Unconventional might be a better term. But Bilbo would not see it that way. In this one respect at least, he would regard Cami as a young hobbit bereft of family who needed a protector.

"Yes, sir. I do have something to ask. Seeing that Cami has no surviving kin, I suspect you're the one looking out for her."

"I'd say that was correct, lad."

Frodo sat nearby, an amused smile spilling over his face to hear the silver-haired hobbit described as 'lad.'

"Cami and I love each other very much, sir. That doesn't seem to change, whether we're together or apart. So, although our situation may be a little unusual, we've decided to marry. That is, Mister Baggins, sir, we'd like your permission to wed."

Bilbo observed, "Not bad for a youngster! Although they did it better in my day."

Maura resisted the urge to point out that his own day was actually considerably older than Bilbo's.

"So how do you intend to do this?"

"Cami and I talked. We wouldn't want to have a public ceremony until after the birth of the twins. Normally we'd just wait, but there's so little time. So we've decided to exchange vows privately and set up housekeeping in one of the burrows near the pond. The public celebration will come later."

Maura hesitated and took a deep breath, "If you think that's alright, of course."

"Alright? Yes, it sounds sensible. But there's one more thing I'd like to ask. I'm not just a nosey old fool. There's a reason for this question. If you were somehow permitted to come to Greenwood, leaving all you know behind, would you do that? Would you follow Cami?"

Frodo looked up startled, but Maura did not blanche. "I've thought about that before. Yes, I'd go. Things are comfortable at Tol Fuin. Lindo's already qualified as a Loremaster, and he could teach the children. I'd miss some folk terribly. My sister and her family. Lindo and his boys.
But, even so, I'd go to Cami. The folk in the Anduin could probably use a teacher. But the plainest answer is that I love her and wherever she lives, that is my home."

Frodo's eyes widened to hear the particular words Maura had chosen for his answer.

Bilbo nodded. "You've told me what I need to know. I wish I could help."

A few moments earlier, Cami had returned, standing silently by the gate that led into the garden as she listened to the conversation. Bilbo was the first to see her and acknowledge her presence, "Cami, you've found a good one. I give you both my blessing. Now, go, the two of you, and enjoy the time you have."

Cami took Maura by the hand and scurried off to look for Piosenniel and Bird.

[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

03-11-2003, 06:06 PM

"...'They did it better in my day'?" Frodo raised one eyebrow. "And how many proposals of marriage did you field in your day?"

Bilbo, in turn, raised his eyebrow back at Frodo, who nodded. "That's what I thought. You've been waiting for eighty years to do this."

"Longer, " Bilbo replied crisply, with a satisfied sigh. There was a pause.

"...Bilbo."

"Eh?"

"...I'm sorry."

Bilbo stirred impatiently. "What's the matter now?"

"I never gave you any grandchildren."

"For heaven's sake, lad, stop using every excuse possible to find fault with yourself."

"No, uncle, I really am sorry. After spending time with Sam's children this morning-- Elanor... And the boys, and little Rose..." he drifted off, and ran his hands across the edge of the table.

"You and I each took the path given to us, " Bilbo stated. "There's no sense regretting that."

"I wish I could dismiss it all as easily as you can." I'm still not like you, Bilbo, he thought, even now, after all these years in the West.

"And what would Gandalf have said to that, hm?"

Frodo sighed, and recited the quote with resignation. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

"And you can decide-- to look backwards with regret, or forward with hope."

Forward to what? Frodo wondered. You'll depart, and I'll go back to the West alone, to be fussed over by people who pity my impending death as if it was next week, and don't want to get too close to me because I'll leave them so shortly. Like losing a pet dog.

His eyes drifted out the window, and he decided he was being quite unfair. The elves had always treated him with dignity and respect, as an equal. Good old Gandalf was there, steady and dependable, and Elrond and Galadriel made time for him whenever he needed it.

He would simply have to do without hobbits in the West, once Bilbo was gone.

As if to echo his foreboding, Bilbo stood, and gathered his envelopes. "I'm off to Bag End to see Sam. Don't mope."

"I may just retire, " Frodo said.

"All the better for a full day tomorrow, " Bilbo said. "But I'd rather you went to the common room, and enjoyed some of the local company. Walk me out to the stable, will you? I'm sure Hob will take care of me from there."

[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-12-2003, 01:04 AM

After his conversation with Frodo, Bilbo headed for the pony cart and drove off in the direction of Hobbiton. His first stop was at Amaranthas' house, his second at Bag-end.

Bilbo had initially considered trying to conceal the real reason for his visit. He quickly came to his senses, realizing this deception would never work. Amaranthas was no fool and would undoubtedly see through his words. He had courteously brought along a small bouquet of flowers, but only as a gesture of politeness. So he presented the flowers and told the truth as bluntly and squarely as he could.

"I'm trying to persuade Sam to host a party at Bag-end. It would be for Frodo and his friends and also Maura, the new hobbit who's come in to see Cami. It was hard for the lads to talk comfortably at the Inn, and I'm hoping this will make it easier. No women around or anything fussy. Just a chance to chat in peace and share simple food and ale."

Amaranthas looked over and chuckled, "I see. Still trying to get your nephew out of his shell, so that he'll sit down and talk with his old friend Sam. And I suspect you want me to clear out Mistress Rose and her children, so you and your friends can rule the roost for one night."

"Your suspicions are on target, dear lady."

Amaranthas smiled and said out loud, "Only for you, Bilbo Baggins, would I do such a thing!" Inside, she was already scheming and arranging the evening to her satisfaction. A good chance to invite her friend Piosenniel and get a closer look at her husband. Also, that stranger Bird who was said to be a skin-changer, or whatever new fangled thing they called themselves.

Bilbo shook hands on the bargain, and promised to look in on Amaranthas another afternoon when he had more time. Then he pointed the cart in the direction of Bag-end, which was just a minute or two away.

Miz Rose immediately came to answer the door, and welcomed him inside. "Oh, please, Mister Bilbo, this truly is your home. You're always welcome here. It is we who should be apologizing to you."

"No need of that!" Bilbo countered in earnest, as he sat waiting for Sam to appear. Once Sam had come out from the back, they went to sit on a bench near the garden, one of Bilbo's favorite spots for smoking pipeweed. There was much reminiscing about this and that, until, finally, Bilbo drew out his pile of notes and thrust them at Sam.

"I've a great favor to ask," Then he went on to explain his ideas about the party, and how Sam's family could enjoy an evening with Amaranthas, and everything would be just like old times....

Sam responded politely, "I'd enjoy that, Mr. Bilbo. Mr. Frodo hasn't said how long you'll be staying. Let's not waste the time we have. You play host, and I'll handle the cooking and preparations and clean-up, so it doesn't fall on my wife." He took the invitations from Sam, and promised to have them delivered by special messenger that very afternoon.

"It's set then. The day after tomorrow. We'll meet here when the sun goes down." Sam nodded in agreement, and shook hands with Bilbo to seal their bargain.

[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

03-12-2003, 02:56 AM

It was mid afternoon when Prim came walking in to the kitchen, a fistful of letters for the guests and some for the staff in her hand. Pio, Mithadan, and Bird had just finished a late lunch and were considering what to do with themselves to pass the rest of the day. Pio had suggested they take the pony cart and head north for a pleasant afternoon along the Water, and perhaps in Bindbale Wood. But, folks in the Shire were uneasy about the presence of Big Folk, all of whom they viewed with suspicion, despite the letters from the King and from the Mayor, or the fact that they seemed to be under the watchful eye of the Elf.

‘I suppose we could bundle you up like Bird did with Levanto and Kali when she took them on a tour of the lower tier of Minas Anor.’ Pio wrapped a dish towel round Mithadan’s face. ‘Perhaps if we scrunched you way down in the wagon, with a blanket over your limbs we could make you a passable Hobbit. That is, if no one approached too closely. And of course, you, Bird, could simply go as your namesake.’

She was saved from their unenthusiastic remarks about this venture, when Prim fished out a letter from her bundle and handed it to her. ‘Looks as if Miz Amaranthas has sent you a note, Mistress Piosenniel.’

Using a clean butter knife, Pio slit open the envelope and took out the note, reading it carefully. ‘Seems as if we have been invited to a gathering at Amarantha’s house.’ She read the note once more, her brow furrowed. ‘The guest list is a little strange, though. Besides me, and you, Mithadan, and Bird, the rest of the guests seem to be Sam’s children and Miz Rose. How odd.’

She had just passed the note to Mithadan, when the door to the kitchen flew open - in came Cami with Maura in tow, much to their surprise . . .

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

ArwenBaggins

03-12-2003, 03:14 PM

Save:

Carrûn

03-12-2003, 05:14 PM

Save

Child of the 7th Age

03-13-2003, 12:11 AM

Cami scurried into the kitchen, with Maura following close behind. The hobbit broke into a broad smile as she looked up to see Mithadan and Piosenniel standing together.

"These are my friends, Maura, the people I wanted you to meet. The ones I was with on the Lonely Star."

Maura extended a hand to the Man in greeting. "Cami's told me about you. You must be Mithadan, the owner of the ship. The one who agreed to go searching for the lost hobbits. It's wonderful to meet you."

Mithadan's eyes sparkled with warmth, "And you, as well, Maura. We've heard much about you from Cami."

Maura turned about to face the Elf, and bowed adroitly at the waist, paying his respects in the same polite fashion that he might have done back in Gondolin. "I am afraid, Elven lady, that you have me at an advantage. Cami has not mentioned your name to me."

"Not mentioned my name?" The Elf turned and gave Cami a startled look. "But we are close friends. My name is Piosenniel."

Now it was Maura's turn to look alarmed. He shifted uneasily on his feet. "Piosenniel! But you are....." Maura's next words were not said aloud, but the expression on his face and the mental force with which he broadcast his thoughts came ringing into all their ears.

But you are....dead! You're not supposed to be here. You fell before the gates of Gondolin in hand-to-hand combat. Why aren't you in the West, or waiting in the Halls of Mandos? There was an awkward pause.

Cami looked sideways at Maura, her eyes widening in confusion and embarrassment, then surreptitiously wrapped her fingers around his arm and tugged him closer to her. "No, Maura. It's not like that." She looked over at Pio to try and explain. "I'm sorry. This misunderstanding is my fault. I should have told him what happened later." Cami mumbled a brief explanation about the return of the Elf and her later marriage.

Piosenniel shook her head and looked straight at Maura. "There is no way you could have known these things. And I am pleased you're here. Cami missed you so much." Then the two began to discuss some of the things that had happened on Tol Fuin since the departure of the Star.

Cami blanched. Maybe Bird was right. She had sensed that the shapechanger had grave reservations about bringing so many folk into the Shire from different places and times. Things could easily become confused. And, if they brought their friends and family to the Inn, the confusion would only get worse.

After Pio and Mithadan had chatted for a while with Maura, the two hobbits said their good byes and went off on their own to talk. Maura apologized for his blunder, although Cami said it was her fault for not remembering to tell him. Then, she took Maura's hand, and whispered, "I am afraid there will be more things like this. I know Bird worries about it. Maybe she's right. Maybe we'd best go off on our own, somewhere private and stay out of other's lives. Perhaps it's better that our friends and family stay where they are."

"No!" Maura's voice was adament. "I told you that I'm through dissembling. I won't do something just because others think it's best. There is so little that I can give you, Cami. But, at least, you will be married properly, standing up in front of those you love. And Bilbo would never forgive me if he didn't get to stand at your side. We will deal with the confusion and tumult."

"If this is something you want, then we'll do it."

"No, Cami," Maura gently clasped her hand and placed a kiss on her fingers.. "This is something we want, both of us."

Cami shook her head in sad acknowledgment. Then the couple went off looking for Lorien to give him their request.

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

mark12_30

03-13-2003, 05:40 AM

Something wasn't right.

Lindo snapped awake, surveying the territory around him. His three teenage boys were by his side, still asleep. He pressed a thought into their minds.

Wake up. Quiet.

They stirred and looked at him, and groggily stood, back to back, bleary-eyed but on guard, and waited, wondering silently where they were and how they had gotten there. But that question was displaced in their mind by their father's stealth; and their eyes began to sparkle, with mischief and pleasure. Excitement? Danger? Better still, perhaps a good prank before breakfast!

Lindo cautiously stood and defensively surveyed his surroundings, baffled. The sun was brightly shining through the trees, there was a gently-flowing river nearby, there were rolling hills and fields, and buildings-- rather large buildings, they seemed to him, although not as large as Gondolin's structures and houses.

There was no-one threatening nearby; but two hobbits, walking, chatting pleasantly, the older leaning on the arm of his companion.

Lindo reached out in thought, and tested the edge of their minds, looking for hostility. He felt none. But they looked up, stopped, and began to look around.

"Stay hidden, " he said to his boys. He moved silently away from the boys, and then stepped out from under the trees.

Retya, Tem and Tocca melted down to the ground and silently moved to where they could watch, and listen. Perhaps this was serious, they thought, with some disappointment, watching their father speak to the two strange, older hobbits.

"That one reminds me of Loremaster Maura, but for the brown hair," Tem whispered, pointing at Frodo.

The older hobbits welcomed Lindo, and began gesturing towards a nearby building. Everything looked friendly. The boys waited, feeling a bit glum. Their father's thoughts pressed gently into their minds.

Maura is here, and I am going to see him. He is with Nitir. This place is safe; you can come with me, or go off and explore.

He guessed their answer, and didn't wait for it. The three adults walked towards the Inn, and the three boys exchanged glances of conspiratory delight, and melted back into the woods.

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

mark12_30

03-13-2003, 06:01 AM

An explosive sneeze burst from him, and he sat up wrinkling his nose in disgust. What a horrible smell. He opened his eyes.

It was dark, and dusty, and musty and -- panic gripped him. Caves, tombs, he was trapped, captive. On his feet, heart pounding wildly, he struggled to see in the darkness, growing angry and defiant. He groped about, trying to get his bearings, to find a way out.

His hands found small bodies, and his heart went deadly cold. His boys, trapped here with him? "Shhh, " he said as they began to ask questions; Why does it smell bad, where are we, why is it dark.

A glimmer of light caught his eye, and he stepped towards it; a tiny crack, barely discernable. He attacked it. In a few moments he had the shutter wrenched off and then he studied the dusty thing he had revealed. It looked like-- a window, sort of, although not shiny clean like the ones on The Lonely Star. But if it was glass, he could break it, and get out. His resolve hardened.

Looking down, he saw that although he was on a second story, he was not that far up, and there was a bush below him to the right. The fact that it was manicured and clipped did not cross his mind.

It took him perhaps ten seconds to use the shutter to smash the window and clear away enough broken glass that he could safely toss the boys out the window and into the bush. "Boys. Shh. Come here."

Roka went first, and climbed out of the bush; then Asta; then Ban. Lastly, Gamba jumped with Little Maura in his arms.

"Come on, let's get out of here, " Gamba ordered, still holding little Maura, and the three boys obediently followed him away from the prison and into the beckoning, friendly woods.

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

Piosenniel's ears caught the sound of breaking glass. There it was again-- and again. It sounded like it was coming from one of the unused rooms upstairs in the back. Who was vandalizing her Inn? She arose and stalked towards the sound, calling for Mithadan as she went.

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Mithadan

03-13-2003, 09:48 AM

Mithadan raced out the door and turned toward where the noise had been heard. A passing thought occurred to him; this was the first time that he had ever moved faster than Piosenniel. He smiled grimly as he rounded the corner of the Inn, by now painfully aware that he was unarmed.

Looking ahead, he saw a series of Hobbit children in rough clothes dropping from a second story window. Then a larger Hobbit slipped through the broken pane and fell to the ground. Mithadan was on him immediately, tackling the figure and pinning the Hobbit beneath him. In an instant, a whirlwind of children descended upon him scratching and biting any patch of available bare skin. Another seized a nearby stick and began clubbing Mithadan on the head with the makeshift weapon.

Piosenniel came up quickly from behind with knives in her hands. "Enough!" she cried. "Stop this foolishness!" Even as she shouted, the Hobbit beneath him wriggled and yelled "Get off me! Let me go!" Mithadan froze as he recognized the voice, and as the children retreated he rolled away from the Hobbit and stared at him in astonishment.

"Gamba?" he asked incredulouly...

Birdland

03-13-2003, 10:55 AM

Bird had been staring, opened-mouthed, at the presence of Maura in the inn; though she had heard Cami speak of reuniting with her love of the first age, she had hoped that this would involve little more than some kind of Elvish union conducted through dreams and osenwe.

And yet there he was, in the flesh, so to speak. "Well," she thought, "at least it is another Hobbit, and not Levanto, or Ulmo, or a gathering of Ents. What next?"

As if in answer, the crashing of glass was heard outside, bringing the party to their feet, with Pio and Mith dashing for the courtyard. Bird immediately morphed into jackdaw form and followed, swooping out the door as a startled Phrim almost dropped the breakfast plates. She had heard this strange friend referred to as "skin-changer", but had little idea what it meant 'til now. "There's a strange one", thought Prim. "She bears watching, that one does."

Bird spied Mithadan wrestling mightily with a Halfing on the ground, while a passel of familiar-looking hobbit lads and lasses furiously beat him about the shoulders with kindling, pebbles, and unfortunately, some nearby pony dung. Bird dove amongst the melee, beating her wings and hissing frantically, "Stop it! Stop it right now! Have you all lost your senses?"

Suddenly, the Man jumped back, sprawling on the ground and gasped, "Gamba..."

Bird flopped to the ground in the circle of these newest visitors, shaking her head and muttering, "By the One! What next?"

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

mark12_30

03-13-2003, 11:22 AM

Frodo and Lindo heard the commotion a little before Bilbo. They veered from the front door, and headed for the back gardens.

Meanwhile, peering out from the woods, three Snowhobbits watched. "Four kids and a guy our age, " Tocca pondered.

Retya nodded. "The kids have courage, attacking that man. And the guy is no slouch either. He almost got those kids out of there. I thought Dad said this place was safe. We should help them escape; let's figure out how."

"Big man, " Tem said. "I don't like this. "

Mithadan picked himself up, Piosenniel sheathed her knives, Bird landed on the grass, and Gamba turned to Little Maura to check him for broken bones. Miraculously, the child was unhurt. "You could have killed him!" Gamba accused Mithadan.

"Well, I didn't, thankfully, " Mithadan said grimly, brushing himself off. "And now would you mind--"

"Would you mind telling me why you were smashing my windows?" Pio erupted furiously.

"After you tell me why you trapped me in there!" Gamba raged. "I forgave you! I thought you had made a mistake tying up Mom and Kesha and I! And now you did it again! I hate you! Bird was right about you!"

"What?" Pio replied. "Now, just a minute--"

Gamba raged on until Mithadan took him by the shoulders and sternly hushed him. "Gamba. Piosenniel did nothing to you. No-one is trying to hurt you."

Gamba stared at him, slowly relaxing, as Mithadan continued to calm him. But then a hitherto unheard voice suddenly cut with strange clarity through the chaos; or was it osanwe?

"Bird?"

Everybody spun. Three more hobbits had come around the corner of the building. One of them with his hair in elvish braids bolted forward past all the commotion, and slowed in front of the jackdaw, pacing slowly towards her, and then in slow motion, kneeling gently in front of her.

"Bird? Oh, Bird, is it really you?"

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

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by:
mark12_30 ]

Mithadan's Post:

Mithadan looked over to the lads and lasses, recognizing them as Gamba's adoptees. Then he turned to face the group of older Hobbits that had advanced from the trees. These he did not recognize, but he noted that they were dressed very oddly. Then he glanced over to Frodo, who was approaching with..."Lindo?"

He sat heavily on the ground and clasped his hand on his forehead with a groan. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek from one of many scratches on his face and arms. Then his head shot up and he cried, "Would someone please tell me what is happening here?"

As if in answer, a shutter opened above them and Lorien leaned out and shouted. "Is everyone here then? Splendid! Someone find Cami and Maura and tell them their guests are here. I must meet each and every one of you. This is becoming such a jolly occaision! I'll be right down..."

Mithadan's eyes seemed to become unfocused. Then he turned to look at Piosenniel with his mouth open, but no words came...

Meanwhile, a Hobbit stood near the stables watching the fracas. Then he turned and dashed off down the lane and veered at a fork in the direction of Bywater...

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

piosenniel

03-13-2003, 11:26 AM

Hob had rushed over from the stables and Prim, with Cook in her wake had flown out the door at the sound of the fracas. Thinking that a troop of brigands were attacking the guests at the Inn, Hob carried a pitchfork, Prim her stout oaken stick kept behind the bar for the more argumentative of patrons, and Cook held aloft her heavy iron, long handled stirring spoon. The three of them gathered round Piosenniel thinking to defend her from what now appeared to be a large group of young Hobbits.

Prim and Hob stood directly in front of her, glaring at the young, rude lad who had spewed out such hateful words to her. Pio would have laughed at this scene except for the fact that the venomous words from Gamba had upset her. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. Many years must have passed for him, and still he hated her.

‘I can do nothing to change what has occurred between us,’ she thought to herself, ‘but I can remove myself as a source of irritation. This is Cami’s time for happiness, let her enjoy this reunion.’

Cook, by this time, had grasped her firmly by the arm and dragged her back into the kitchen, with Prim and Hob as rear guard. The door was firmly shut and locked. ‘Who was that?’ asked Prim, watching Pio pace back and forth on the stone floor. ‘Cami’s friends. Come from far off.’ returned the Elf. ‘Well. I don’t like them one bit!’ added in Cook, shaking her spoon at the closed door. ‘Where have they been living, to be so . . . so rude . . . and uncivilized?’

Pio stopped, and laughed at this assessment of the newly arrived Hobbit group. ‘They have been living outside the Shire Bounds for a long, long time.’ ‘Well, I suppose that counts for something in the matter of their behavior,’ mused Hob. ‘Not much in my book!’ returned Cook. ‘You can’t tell me all sense of Hobbit politeness has been bred out of them.’

‘This is exactly what I do not want happening.’ Pio gave her three defenders the briefest of histories concerning the newly arrived Hobbits. ‘Please try to be as kind and accommodating as you can. These are Cami’s family and that of her soon to be husband, if I am not mistaken in reading that situation.’ ‘As you wish Mistress Piosenniel,’ said Prim in a tight voice, but if that one attacks you again in any way, I’m afraid I’ll have to accommodate him with my oak stick.’

‘That will not be a problem any longer, Prim.’ Pio turned to Hob. ‘Bring ‘Falmar round to the side door.’

She ran to her room, and threw some necessary things into her old pack, slipping the purse with the gold coins Mithadan had sent her into the front pocket of it. . Picking up her cloak, she hurried to the side door just as Hob arrived with ‘Falmar. ‘And what shall we say when they ask where you’ve gone?’ asked Prim, as she watched Pio clamber up onto the horse.
‘Tell them I have a sudden taste for a glass of outland ale.’

She leaned down and spoke softly to Prim, telling her where she was bound. ‘Send word to me, if you will when the Inn has quieted down.’ Across the yard, quickly she sped on ‘Falmar, heading east once she reached the main road.

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

Birdland

03-13-2003, 11:35 AM

Bird looked up to this newest face looming over her. Her feathers, which had been ruffled in anger and agitation, slowly subsided, and she sank into the dirt of the courtyard, looking thin, small, and very tired. She shook her head sadly, not looking up.

"Hullo, Lindo. Yes. It's me."

mark12_30

03-13-2003, 11:50 AM

Mithadan was asking Frodo and Bilbo to explain to Gamba why he had awoken in the strange room, in between sternly warning Gamba that he owed Piosenniel an apology. Gamba, bewildered and resentful, was trying to make sense out of Frodo and Bilbo's explanation. Roka was examining Mithadan's clothing, Ban and Asta were exploring the courtyard with loud questions, and Little Maura was asking about breakfast.

The Snowhobbits slowly came out from their hiding place, watching their father. In the midst of the confusion, he drew as close to Bird as he could, and then thoroughly mesmerized, reached one hand towards her; but a few seconds later, he withdrew it. The boys looked on in surprise as tears rolled down his face.

"It's the shapechanger, " Tocca whispered, in awe.

"Of course it is, " Retya replied. The three boys drew near, nudging each other with their elbows. "Gently." "Be careful." "Don't crowd her." "Why is she sad?"

"Why is Father crying?" Tem asked.

"Hush, " Retya ordered. "Just don't let anybody else see." The boys covered Lindo's back, and stood between him and the confusion.

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Gamba, fearful and baffled, disengaged himself from Frodo and Bilbo, and walked over to where Mithadan sat on the ground. "Mithadan?"

Mithadan gave Gamba a rather blank stare.

"You look nasty. We should get you to a stream so you can wash up. But-- is it true that my mom is here?"

"Yes."

"Oh, no, " Gamba groaned, and looked up at the smashed window. "She's not going to like this. Not one bit."

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 17, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

theWhiteLady

03-13-2003, 12:55 PM

Two pairs of hobbit feet pounded down the hall trailed behind by guilty giggles. Running full speed through the door, Anee and Rose burst into Anee's small yet comfortable bedroom out of breath from running so fast and laughing so hard. Rose threw herself upon the bed, abandoning all pretense of dignity, and threw a plump pillow at her friend. Anee caught it deftly and exclaimed, "Let's not go to sleep all night!"

Though both hobbits had just entered their tweens, the normal time of growing and maturing, tonight they were determined to act as gay and silly as the youngest, most mischevious hobbit child playing in the Shire.

"Of course," Rose replied delighted. And the pair of them spent the night staging mock battles with swords of feather pillow, scaring each other with old wive's tales
passed down for time out of mind, and talking till the moon had risen high over the night sky. Finally, the conversation slowly trickled off, and both hobbits lay curled together, each lost in their own private thoughts. Rose felt her mind being drawn irresistibly back through time through time to the voyage of the Lonely Star. Her eyes closed slowly, feeling the wooden prow dip and rise with the sea. Bird, strange and beautiful; the tall, strong Mithadan; Pio strongwilled and fierced when pressed but a blessing to her friends, Cami whose face was looking rather tired, whose eyes sometimes seemed to be looking at someone else: the old crew, whom Rose had come to treasure, and whose faces were locked safely in her memory, awoke and smiled down at her.

Rose twisted restlessly on Anee’s soft bed and drew the covers farther up under her chin. The cloth was coarse but warm and waves of sleepiness broke over her as the ocean breaks upon the shore. The young hobbit felt herself covered and pulled by its irresistable tide, and for only a moment she resisted before falling completely submerged into the realm of dreams.

A great army of elves were marching to battle, off to defeat the stronghold of Angband and draw out The Black Enemy, and Rose was in the lead, clad in shining mail armour and carrying a deadly sword. She was suprised to see herself riding a spirited stallion; hobbits were not generally made for such modes of travel. A great shout was taken up by the soldiers and Rose reined in her steed to see what was the disturbance. An ambush! As common in the manner of dreams, the fantasy skipped ahead, and the small hobbit was now battling fiercely with five orcs. As intensely as she fought, the orcs began to overwhelm her. A great leering face flashed in front of Rose, swinging upward a heavy iron sword. With a scream she ducked...

And rolled with a hard thwump into a ditch. Confused, still trying to fight away the vicious orcs, Rose heard the steady beat of horse hooves upon a road, and she wondered for one wild moment if she had been knocked out in battle. Rising unsteadily to her feet, the young hobbit lass turned to see if Anee had been awakened by her struggles, but her friend was nowhere to be found.

Instead, Rose discovered herself plump in the middle of a lush countryside, a land which looked slightly familiar but which she had left what seemed like many years ago. Or had she left at all?

Poor Rose had forgotten all about the rider, who was stopped and now staring at her in much the same fashion as the young hobbit was staring at the fields lining the road. Feeling the sharp pair of eyes boring into her back, Rose turned to see the only character to make the strange dream she seemed to have landed inside even more bizarre.

“Miss Pio??” Rose managed to gasp outloud, shocked to see the elf’s figure, quite round in the middle, straddling a beautiful horse with only slight difficulty.

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-13-2003, 02:22 PM

Not far from the Green Dragon stands a haven of relative tranquility. Along the southern edge of Bywater Pool, some distance from the Inn itself, a park extends along the shore. Sam had made a point to plant a great many saplings here, each with a tiny particle of silver dust at its roots, which had come from the box that Galadriel had entrusted to him. The result was pleasing to the eye and ear, a sweet haven of tall birches and weeping willows whose tangled limbs were home to any number of birds and small animals.

It was here that Zira and Ban awoke, with their two children close beside them. Zira clasped little Azra to her chest, while Abar wandered off, searching for something interesting to play with or explore. His parents remained behind, cautiously scanning the horizon, but could see no one in sight. Of all the arrivals, they were the only ones, besides Maura himself, who had at least a glimmering of where they were and why they'd been brought here.

Zira turned flashing eyes on her husband, "Is this it? Is this the place Ancalimon told Maura about?"

"Perhaps," responded her husband, "but where's Maura? Why are we the only ones here? Should we stay here, or go looking for them?"

Zira shruged her shoulders in bewilderment. "I'm not sure. Ancalimon never told us about that."

Ban nodded, "Perhaps we'd best stay here then. Ancalimon said this was the work of a Vala, so perhaps he wants us in this special place." Ban stretched out on the grass and closed his eyes to take a little nap, while his wife kept an eye on Abar who was splashing about in the shallow waters, chasing after minnows.

Mithadan

03-13-2003, 02:52 PM

Olo Bracegirdle had been walking towards The Green Dragon when he saw a tall Man assault a young Hobbit. He watched in horror as several lads and lasses fell upon the Man, trying to drag him from the Hobbit. But when he saw the Elf approach with knives drawn, he had seen enough.

Olo raced down the lane and took the fork over towards Bywater. It was a while later when arrived at the Shirriff's, red in the face and puffing hard. He burst into the office, out of breath and wild eyed. Halfred Whitfoot stood up from his chair behind the desk and approached Olo. "Here now," said Halfred. "What's the problem?"

"Murder!" panted Olo. "Mayhem! There's this Man over at the Green Dragon and he and that bloody Elf have gone and attacked a Hobbit and some children!"

"I knew no good would come of this," growled Halfred. "Milo, Hugo! Get the others! Grab your bows, staves and knives!"

Moments later, a band of six deputies on ponies accompanied Halfred and rode towards the Green Dragon...

Child of the 7th Age

03-13-2003, 05:34 PM

Cami and Maura had left to take a walk immediately after their conversation with Lorien. He had assured them all their relatives and friends would be brought safely through to the Inn in one large group sometime later that afternoon. Since there was still considerable time till then, Cami had suggested they take a wicker hamper from the storeroom, and load it down with goodies for lunch. Holding hands and singing as they tripped blithely along, the pair headed off in the direction of Hobbiton.

"I'll take you to all my favorite spots, and then we'll head over to the party field. There's a beautiful mallorn that grows there now, or so I've been told. It will make a shady nook for us to eat."

The two hobbits ate their lunch under the spreading limbs of the mallorn and laid down together on their backs, staring up into the blue skies and guessing which animals the large puffy clouds resembled. Maura took out his pocket knife and cut off pieces of apple, popping them into Cami's mouth one-by-one. Afer watching the butterflies play on the breeze and chasing each other around the meadow several times, Cami suggested they return to the Inn just in case Lorien decided to bring their visitors through a little early.

They were about half-way down the Hobbiton/Bywater Road, when their stroll was interrupted by the sudden arrival of another hobbit. Prim the Innkeeper stood before them on the roadway, doubled over and breathing hard.

"Prim, what's wrong? You're exhausted. What's happened?" Cami led her over to the side of the road, and set her down in the tall grass.

"Oh, Miz Cami, you and your Mister have to come back now. Right now. Something awful has happened. Aren't you Gamba's mother?"

Cami felt her heart freeze as she nodded mutely in Prim's direction. "Yes, why?" she managed to ask.

Prim had gathered her facts carefully before she had come. She told Cami about the arrivals at the Inn, the broken window pane, and the attack on Mithadan. Cami sat still, staying calm and saying nothing. It was only when Prim got to the part about Gamba telling Piosenniel how he hated her and something about being put in chains that the fire in Cami's eyes roared up, and she began sprinting along the road in the direction of the Inn.

"And Pio? Where is she?" Cami asked.

"She's gone, galloping off madly on her steed."

"But where?"

Prim replied tersely, "I'm not at liberty to say that, at least to the likes of you. If I were you, I'd keep better control of those boys. They've no manners in their body."

At this point, Maura suddenly interrupted Prim's lecture to Cami, "That will be enough. Let's stop bickering. It doesn't help, anyways."

As they trotted up to the courtyard, Cami was greeted by a large crowd that included a battered-looking Mithadan, a despondent Bird, her own son Gamba, with his brothers in tow, and someone who looked like Lindo accompanied by a passel of young hobbits. Lorien stood in the background smiling.

Cami threw a stern look in Gamba's direction, then stopped for a moment to count noses. She and Maura exchanged feverish glances as they came to the same conclusion, and whirled around to face Lorien.

"You said they would come through in one large group later today. That's not what happened."

Maura ran directly up to Lorien, "We're missing hobbits." He glanced around hurriedly one last time. "Rose Goodchild, Cami's daughter, and my sister and their family! Where are they?" Maura's voice was as close to hysteria as Cami had ever heard it, even in the Orcish camps.

Lorien shrugged his shoulders lightly and smiled, "Now, let's see. I know they came through somewhere. Yes, somewhere in the Shire."

"In the....Shire?" The words came out very slowly. "But the Shire is a very big place." Cami glared at Lorien and vehemently added, "It has exactly 21,400 square miles! I suggest you start looking for our families."

It was at this moment that a good-sized dust cloud appeared on the horizon, which appeared to be a small cavalry unit of hobbits, charging towards the Inn with staves and cudgels drawn.

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

piosenniel

03-13-2003, 06:35 PM

Pio urged ‘Falmar to a slower speed, and guided him off the dirt road that joined Bywater to the Great East Road. They picked their way carefully under the shelter of the trees, being careful not to slip on the pebbly scree of the steep slope down from the roadway. The hard, fast pounding of hooves on the packed dirt of the road's surface had alerted her there were riders coming her way, and she slipped behind some dense shrubby undergrowth until they had passed.

‘What is this, now?’ she asked herself, seeing the Shiriff and several of his deputies go clattering by on their ponies. Armed with bows on their backs, knives in their belts, and staves gripped firmly in their hands, the Hobbits raced in the direction from which she had come with grim faces and a fiery purpose in their eyes.

‘Falmar stood stock still as they passed, watching the ponies run by. One turned his head slightly, noting the great grey horse hiding in the shadows, but his rider urged him on with his heels. ‘Falmar walked cautiously from beneath the trees when they had passed and made her way back onto the road. Pio wondered if she should turn round to see what the Shiriff and his band were doing, but ‘Falmar shook her head, her mind bent on taking her rider away from harm.

With a great leap she broke into a run, heading east once again, putting distance between herself and the last dusty sighting of the Hobbits and their steeds.

piosenniel

03-13-2003, 07:15 PM

‘Here now!’ yelled Prim, as she spied the quickly approaching pack of ponies. Cook had run to join her, seeing Prim stand resolutely in the path of the advance. Both ladies had hastily removed their aprons and now stood flapping them wildly in the face of the lead pony. It had the desired effect.

Dumpling was a mild mannered Shire pony and he served his rider, Halfred Whitfoot, well. Never complaining about the extra pounds that seemed to creep onto the Hobbit’s frame with each passing year, he was always willing to try to give what Halfred demanded. But this was too much! He shied at the great white flapping cloths. They spooked him, and he reared up wildly, pawing at them with his hooves then turned and tried to get away.

Halfred clung on for dear life. He was not a born rider, and though he enjoyed riding sedately on his rounds about the Shire, he did not relish the thrill of the chase on horseback, nor was he prepared for the fractious reaction of his mount. He went tumbling onto the ground, as Dumpling reared and then ran off, the bit in his teeth, eyes rolling madly at the ladies and their aprons.

The rest of the posse came to a tumultuous halt, barely keeping their own mounts from panicking. They milled about in the yard of the Inn, looking down at their fallen leader. Halfred raised himself up to a sitting position, rubbing the rapidly growing goose egg bump where his head had met the dirt. His eyes were a little unfocused and he winced with pain as he looked at the figure standing over him.

‘Halfred Whitfoot! What cause have you to come charging into the Inn yard like this?! No one here called for you.’ Prim fixed him with a hard, brown eye as he smiled weakly up at her. ‘Not here to cause me any trouble are you?’ she demanded.

A sudden gleam came into her eye, and she reached down a hand, hoisting him to his feet. 'On second thought, you might just have arrived in time. There are some visiting Hobbits who have gone missing. Perhaps you and your doughty force can help us find them . . .'

Gandalf_theGrey

03-13-2003, 10:55 PM

Pale green beryl-colored bottles clanked in the back of Merry Brandybuck's pony cart as the wheels thumped and bumped over the occasional rough patches in the road. Good thing he'd remembered to wrap them in old cloaks and blankets packed with straw. Merry's cargo was Barliman Butterbur's greatly renowned Elessar Ale fresh brewed. Such drink was becoming harder to get by the day, as the wagons to and from Bree left their routinely-trodden tracks more and more silent and untravelled.

"Beef and brew" the invitation had said, written in Bilbo Baggins' loose sprightly hand. No mention of mushrooms, so Merry'd brought along a sackful just in case. He smiled at the thought of getting together with just Bilbo, Frodo, Pippin, and Sam. While the dinner party at the Green Dragon had been a night to remember, he was looking forward to what rollicking mirth a handful of Hobbits could muster.

Merry came clad in a mail shirt glinting white and rhythmically clinking to match the afternoon sun latticing light through chattering leaves. He came with shield bearing the Rohirric emblem of a milky steed galloping smoothly against a green field, ... to inspire more speed in his pony, he jokingly told himself.

Under Merry's seat lay a "whacking stick" of stout black hawthorn. With what his cousins Doderic and Celandine had seen of Men prowling and sneaking about outside the windows of quiet, law-abiding Hobbits, it made good sense to be cautious. His thoughts drifted to his newlywed Estella … Merry felt a twinge of regret on leaving her behind, especially after such reports. But the party was to be an all-boys event, and Estella was sensible enough to manage just fine left to her own devices in the smial at Brandy Hall. Meanwhile, he'd left a poem in her honor for her to find while he was away. He'd penned it that very morning with the quill and ink she'd given him, then hidden it away in a canister of flour.

Meanwhile, the miles whirled by under the steady cadence of hoof and wheel, bringing him closer to his group of close friends.

piosenniel

03-14-2003, 02:19 AM

Halfred struggled to his feet with the assist of Prim, and brushed the dust off his clothes. He picked his hat up from where it had tumbled in the dirt and thwacked it against his leg, setting the feather to quivering and sending up a great cloud of dust. Placing the cap firmly back on his head, Halfred called his men to attention and puffing up his chest like a great toad, looked Primrose Bolger square in the eye.

‘Mistress Prim, there’ll be none of your sharp tongue to turn my purpose aside today. I’ve received a complaint from a citizen of the Shire that one of the Big Folk has laid hands on a young Hobbit, in the attempt to do him bodily harm. And further it was said that an Elf also tried to attack the Hobbit with a knife.’ Halfred’s men came up behind him, weapons in hand, to back up his words.

‘Letter or no, from King or Mayor, I’ve come to put the Man back into the Locks, as is my responsibility as Shiriff. And along with the Man, I’ve come to take into custody the Elf, and lock her up, too.’

Cook gasped when she heard these words come out of Halfred’s mouth. She clutched Prim’s hand and gave it a squeeze, whispering in her ear. ‘You mustn’t tell them where’s she’s gone.’ Prim’s lips were set in a thin hard line. ‘Never!’ she whispered back.

Halfred and his men pushed past Prim and Cook, making for Mithadan . . .

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

piosenniel

03-14-2003, 03:17 AM

“Pio??” Rose managed to gasp out loud, shocked to see the Elf’s figure, quite round in the middle, straddling a beautiful horse with only slight difficulty.

‘Falmar had not wanted to stop, and even now, she pranced in an agitated manner, wanting to fly on down the road. Pio‘s attention was fixed on calming her mount, and she could not pay attention to the Hobbit staring at her, mouth agape. But when she had brought the horse into line, she turned her head with a smile to the young lass standing at the side of the road.

‘I should have known you would come alone, in your own way, Rose. And not with the others. That has always been your way.’ Pio reached down her arm, and helped Rose to mount up behind her. ‘The place you are seeking lies a half day’s walk behind us on this road. Come stay with me for the night at the lodging just up the road. I shall see you get to the place you need to be by tomorrow for certain, though I will not be returning there myself for a while.’

‘And what place is that Pio? And why am I here, with you?’ There was a small note of fear in Rose’s voice as she spoke. Pio urged ‘Falmar back down the road, away from the Inn. She reined her in, keeping her to a slow walk as she explained to Rose what had happened – the arrival of Cami, the arrivals of Bilbo, Frodo, and Lorien, then Maura and the contingents of Hobbits from Tol Fuin and Greenwood.

‘We are all here?’ Rose’s voice had now taken on a note of wonder, and mild disbelief that this had happened. Still, here she was, mounted behind Pio, heading through the once familiar country side of the Shire. ‘So, are we all here to celebrate the birth of your and Mithadan’s babies,’ she said, still trying to figure out the events that had occurred.

‘No! Not at all, you goose! Though I am happy you will be here to see them.’ Pio urged ‘Falmar on at a faster pace. ‘Save your questions until we reach the inn. It is nearby. We can relax, have something to eat and drink. And then you can ply me with all the questions you wish, and I you . . .’

mark12_30

03-14-2003, 04:06 AM

Gamba surged ahead, much to the suspicion of the Green Dragon staff and the surprise of the shirriffs.

"That's the one, " said Olo. "That's the strangely dressed lad that was under attack!"

Gamba planted himself in front of Mithadan and said, "Leave him alone. He's my friend. He didn't hurt me!"

"We'll be the judge of that, " Halfred replied, coming forward. Gamba crouched and his fists came up. Lindo and the three Snowhobbits stepped up beside Gamba, confused but defiant. Frodo advanced, protesting violence between hobbits, but his words were lost in the confusion and his intentions mistaken by many. As Halfred came near, Gamba took a swing at him...

[ March 14, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-14-2003, 07:14 AM

Gamba's punch went wide of the mark as rage welled up inside, making it impossible for him to see clearly. Cami instantly rushed forward, intent on protecting her son from the violence threatening to pour onto his head. She watched as Gamba's clenched fist hit the air. He spun around off balance, falling to the ground in an awkward heap.

Acting from a deep seated instinct for self-preservation, Halfred had pulled back his arm intending to land a punch against Gamba. It took only a split second for Cami's presence and Gamba's fall to register, but the split second came too late.

Already the blow had been launched. Halfred's clenched fist connected with Cami's lower jaw, as she crumpled into an unconscious pile, her eyes rolling upward. With no hesitation, Maura raced forward like an angry bull with a red flag waving in front of its eyes. He held his head down like a battering ram, and was about to throw himself at the shirriff, when Mithadan grabbed him by the collar and drew him back.

A large crowd had gathered beside the road to witness this event. Lunch patrons at the Inn as well as hobbits on their way to market stopped to gawk and whisper. Bilbo thought he'd seen enough. He tottered forward, clinging to a passer-by, struggling to his knees near Cami and begging for someone to bring him a cold cloth.

"Who's that?" muttered Peony Burrows to her neighbor. "I swear he looks familiar."

"Never seen 'im before," the young Bodo Boffin confided.

Dudo Baggins ran up to the elderly hobbit and stared him squarely in the face. He had no memory of the wizened face, but the eyes, with their hint of fire and wit, were hauntingly familiar. "Cousin Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins? Is that you?" His tone was one of distress. "But you disappeared thirty years ago!"

Bilbo fixed a flashing eye on the hobbits gathered in the circle. "Yes, and you can be sure it will be another thirty years before I venture here again. I'm visiting with my nephew Frodo."

At this point, all eyes turned toward the slender, quiet hobbit who stood at the rear of the assembly. A few more jaws dropped wide.

Bilbo glared at the shirriff, "You've just decked a woman, one who's never lifted a finger against you, I might add."

At this point hobbits began to whisper and point, some discussing the present incident and others inquiring about Frodo and Bilbo. At least one raised the question whether the two might have returning with the intention of reclaiming Bag-end.

"Where's that Frodo been?" Ruby Greenhand demanded.

Robin Brandybuck shrugged her shoulders, "Off on some adventure, I guess."

Bird wandered over to Maura, muttering as she went, "I knew this was bound to happen."

Maura turned and pleaded with Bird. "Please, you've got to help us. I need to stay with Cami till I'm sure she's alright. But my sister and her family are missing. Rose Goodchild, as well. Won't you help find them?"

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

Birdland

03-14-2003, 08:03 AM

Bird circled higher and higher, shaking her head and half-wondering if she should just fly west to the Tower Downs and take a long visit with her old friend Holly Stoor until this whole, ridiculous situation blew over.

Of course she did not, for "the situation" had become far too interesting. Her curiosity would never permit her to leave now, despite her instincts telling her to "skip town".

"So I'm to find four Hobbits in a land of Hobbits, eh?" she grumbled to herself. "May as well ask me to find four certain midges in the Midgewater Marsh! How did I ever think that this would be a relaxing visit with old friends? Well, I suppose I'll just look for Fourth Age Hobbits in First Age clothing. Do I even remember what Ban and Zira look like?"

She gazed down on the groomed fields and tidy hedgeroads of Suza. There were Halflings everywhere! Busy as ants, enjoying their isolation from the troubles of Middle-earth, and reveling in their prosperity.

She tried to imagine if the rest of Man's world would ever achieve such stability and peace. Or would they just fall again into conflict and ruin, eventually sweeping the Halfings away with them? She shook her head again, and continued with her search.

[ March 15, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

theWhiteLady

03-14-2003, 08:52 AM

‘Falmar settled down into a steady rythm and Rose relaxed her tight grip around Pio’s waist; maybe riding a horse wasn’t so bad! Any other day, she would have been terribly excited, and even now she felt a twinge of happiness, but it was overclouded by the many questions whirling through her mind. She began to feel the beginnings of a headache. Where had Anee gotten to? Why was she really here? Could this just be another bizarre dream? Maybe she should stop sneaking
mushrooms before bedtime...

Knowing it was useless to ask Pio any of these questions until they arrived at the
inn, Rose found herself watching the roadside lined with quaint cottages and a few snug hobbit holes, painted bright green with little yellow knobs in the center and
surrounded by gardens whose various flowers peeped their bright faces over a picket fence struggling to contain them. There were also fields waving their bountiful crop in greeting, caressed gently by a warm breeze which also swept a solitary cloud over the sky. It was, without a doubt, a most beautiful day in the Shire, and it seemed to be presenting all its glory to welcome back little Rose.

The time passed slowly, but Rose noticed ‘Falmar’s steps growing more spririted, sensing the inn quite close. The horse was, of course, right and a only a few moments passed by before a two story building, the first Rose had seen in a very long time, came into sight. She recognized it faintly, but though things did not change very quickly in the Shire, Rose did not realize her adventures on the Star and her time living in Greenwood had made her a completely different hobbit. It was as if she had been given a pair of tinted spectacles and saw all the normal things of the Shire in a different light; or was it like having a veil lifted and seeing everything more clearly? She couldn’t decide before Pio reined in ‘Falmar and turned slightly in the saddle, thinking the young hobbit asleep after so long and so unusual a silence, but the Elf instead saw Rose instead looking around at the inn with an slight expression of sadness and wonder.

[ March 15, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]

piosenniel

03-14-2003, 02:12 PM

There was a gasp from the crowd as Halfred’s hammy fist connected with the side of Cami’s jaw. Halfred himself blanched when he realized what he had done, and bent down red faced, spluttering apologies to the fallen woman as he offered her a hand up. He was knocked away by several of Cami’s friends and family who rushed in to help her to her feet. They stood in a ring around Cami, glaring at the Shiriff and his men.

The shock of downing an innocent Hobbit (more or less, that is, since she was only defending her son, he reasoned) brought Halfred back to his senses. He stepped back, taking a deep breath and reassessed the situation. He wanted, at all costs, to avoid a riot in the Inn yard. There was now a large crowd of townspeople gathered, and loud mutterings could be heard on either side of the argument for arresting the outland ruffians. The mood was an ugly one, and Halfred looking at his small band of deputies, chose on the side of caution.

He gathered his men about him, and spoke softly to them. ‘Listen up, good folk. After conferring with my deputies, I’ve made my decision . . .’

Mithadan

03-14-2003, 02:50 PM

Halfred pulled out a red cotton handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his red face. "Umm, now this lad," he continued, pointing to Gamba. "Says he wasn't hurt by the Man, is that correct?"

Gamba, rising from the dust, nodded his head. "Mithadan is my friend."

"Did he attack you?" asked Halfred with narrowing eyes.

Mithadan stepped forward. "I was only wrestling with the lad and his...the other little ones," he said with a smile. "And he's quite good too!"

Gamba beamed at the compliment. But the Shirriff was not satisfied quite yet. "Is that right lad?" Gamba nodded innocently.

"What about the Elf with the knife?" cried Olo.

"Elf?" asked Prim. "You mean Mistress Piosenniel, whose about so pregnant I'm amazed she doesn't burst?" Several members of the crowd laughed at this. "She went off to the east earlier today on some errand or other. She's been gone for a bit." And of course, Prim's comments were not untruthful -- the terms 'earlier' and 'a bit' were just not clearly defined.

Halfred looked about and saw no dissent, though Olo looked indignant. "Then no harm done. Let the Hobbit go," he instucted the deputies who released Maura. He looked down at Cami who had been revived by Bilbo and Frodo. "Sorry, Ma'am," he said with a bow. "A bit of a misunderstanding apparently. Though your son shouldn't swing at a Shirriff, now, should he?"

Halfred turned to Prim and said through gritted teeth, "Wouldn't it be best if your...guests stayed inside rather than making such a commotion?" Prim nodded with a sweet smile for Halfred. Excusing himself, Halfred mounted his pony and rode off with his deputies.

Prim turned to the assembled crowd and shouted, "Alright! No more to see here." To Mithadan and the others she turned a jaundiced eye and growled, "Inside! The whole lot o' ya!"

mark12_30

03-14-2003, 03:06 PM

As the crowd began to disburse, and shuffle Innward, Gamba tugged at Mithadan's sleeve even as he headed over to check on his mother.

"What is it, Gamba?" Mithadan asked.

"I don't really have to go back in that building... do I?" Gamba pleaded, even as he knelt down by his mother. Then he met his mother's gaze, which although foggy was beginning to clear. "Mom, you should have ducked."

He heard strange voices behind him. "How did you miss at that close range, anyway?"

"Let him be, Retya."

Gamba stood and turned, and found himself face to face with Retya.

"What's with the sissy braids?" Gamba said.

"Sissy?"

Two other braided teenagers stepped forward.

"The three of you. Cut your hair. What do you think you are, elvish or something?"

"Let him be, " their father repeated.

Gamba sized Lindo up next, without hiding the contempt in his voice. "You too?"

"Grow your hair and braid it like a warrior, " Lindo replied, evenly and coldly meeting Gamba's gaze. Gamba soon dropped his eyes. Then Lindo turned towards the Inn, and the three teenagers laughed, and followed suit.

At their laughter, Gamba flushed crimson and his fists clenched; but Mithadan siezed Gamba by the elbow and dragged him towards the Inn while Maura, Frodo, and Bilbo helped Cami to her feet. The four little boys scampered after Gamba, chirruping and laughing. Gamba counted them reflexively, and then looked back at Cami.

"Hey, Mithadan, " Gamba said, looking back over his shoulder, "Who is that greyhaired guy with his arm around my mom?"

[ March 15, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

piosenniel

03-14-2003, 05:08 PM

‘Let’s get that last bale of hay up to the loft!’ Hob stood looking with a critical eye at the hay window at the top of the stable, wondering if he and Faldo could do this themselves. Faldo followed his line of sight up to the pulley apparatus. He rubbed the arm of his shirt across his already sweaty brow, then flexed his tired back and shoulder muscles. ‘I think I’ve got one more pull left in me, Hob. You go on up there and drag it in.’

Faldo rolled up his sleeves and wiped the palms of his hands on his breeches. Leaning over the bale to check the lashings round it were secure, he pulled on rope’s hook to make sure it was set. Hob waved at him from the upper window, hay hooks in hand to draw in the bale once it was raised. Faldo planted his feet firmly and grasping the thick rope, he began to inch it up to the waiting Hob.

Hob signaled with a nod of his head that he had the bale, and pulled it onto the loft as Faldo slackened the rope. ‘Good work, Faldo. Come in and have an ale on the house.’ Hob clapped the Hobbit on the back and started for the kitchen door. ‘I’ll pass on that for today, at least.’ smiled Faldo, walking into the barn. ‘Supper should be ready soon. The missus will be expecting me.’ He took the string of three ponies Hob had indicated to him and headed home to stable them at his holding.

Hob waved him off, and looked back at the stable. That left Mithadan’s horse and one Inn pony left in the stalls. He took the pitchfork and shovel and quickly mucked out the stalls, making sure there was plenty of clean straw in the empty ones as well as the two that were occupied. He had already spread a thick layer about in the loft and left clean blankets up there. He stepped back, once he was done, to survey his handiwork. ‘Good enough!’ he thought. ‘Looks fine for those not concerned about roughing it.’

It was Prim who had suggested he do this. She had sized up the Hobbits who had arrived today, and thought they might be more comfortable in a less confined space. Hob chuckled to himself. ‘She can’t fool me. She doesn’t want that rowdy bunch in the Inn, so she’s given them to me to look after.’

He put the pitchfork back in its place, and brushed the hay dust from his clothes along with a few odd strands of it that had stuck here and there on him. Walking quickly back to the kitchen, he let Prim know the job was done and he’d see her tomorrow.

‘Home to my sweet Minta!’ he called back over his shoulder, smiling as he left the Inn.

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

piosenniel

03-14-2003, 06:07 PM

Pio had been exhausted by the time they arrived in Frogmorton. She handed ‘Falmar’s reins to the stable boy, and smiling, flipped him a shiny silver penny. ‘There will be another of those tomorrow morning if you can get all the knots and tangles from her tail and mane, and brush her ‘til she gleams.’ The boy looked up at the great horse with a questioning look, then glanced back at the Elf. ‘She will be gentle for you and attend to your instructions, little master. Just stand on a crate and she will hold still enough for you that you think you are working on a statue.’ ‘Falmar dipped her head once to the stable boy as if in agreement.

‘An Elvish horse! I’ve never had the pleasure to work on someone as grand and as pretty as you.’ ‘Falmar nickered softly and nuzzled the space between his shoulders, nearly sending him sprawling. Pio laughed and reached out a hand to steady him. ‘You do have a sweet way with words, and ‘Falmar likes to be complimented.’ She gave a few instruction to the lad on what the horse should be fed, smiling as he noted each one carefully and repeated it back to her. Pio reached her hand out to give his a shake. ‘Now that we have sealed our agreement on ‘Falmar’s care, we should know each other’s names, do you not agree?’

‘Come ‘Falmar,’ said Merimas Bolger, as the horse huffed near his shirt pocket smelling the sugar lumps he always kept as treats for his equine friends. ‘Mistress Piosenniel is expecting you to look as bright as this silver penny she gave me, and I intend to see it done.’

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

It was much later in the evening when Pio awoke from her nap. ‘Rose?’ she called, but there was no answer. Must have gone downstairs she thought to herself. She pulled on a clean dress and smoothed the wrinkles from it. Drawing her cape about her she went downstairs to the Common Room, pausing on the last step to look about for her companion.

The Inn was filled with local Hobbits, and Pio stood out like a sore thumb. There were a few cursory glances her away as she stepped into the room, but none that lingered. ‘Thank the stars for Hobbit politeness,’ she thought to herself. She also noted there seemed to be there no ill feelings coming her way. Just curiosity and interest and some satisfaction that there would be a good story to tell once they got home.

She nodded politely at the tables of hobbits she passed on her way back to the small table near the rear of the room where she had spied Rose. Rose sat sipping a cup of sweetspice tea and looking out the open window to the fields and gardens beyond as the westering sun threw them into shadow. ‘It’s all so civilized,’ she said as Pio approached, ‘even more so than I remembered. I do love this place, but my heart is happy where I am now.’

Pio reached out the window and plucked a wild, scarlet rose from the rambler that grew just beneath it. She placed the fragrant blossom in Rose’s curls. ‘Yes, I think where you are now would better fit your wilder, freer nature.’

A passing server was called over and Pio and Rose ordered some supper for themselves. The Elf’s back was to the door, and so she did not see the person who just entered. Rose’s eyes, though, had gone wide and she reached across the table to tug at Pio’s sleeve. ‘That is positively the tallest Hobbit I have ever seen!’

Pio pushed back the hood of her cape and turned to see who had caught her companion’s attention. She looked in the direction Rose had indicated, and gave a stifled gasp, her grey eyes meeting his . .

mark12_30

03-14-2003, 07:10 PM

Bilbo and Frodo loitered out in the garden, but not too far from the kitchen window. Bilbo pottered about among the flowers, sometimes sniffing the blooms, and sometimes sniffing over his shoulder at the wafting aromas coming from Prim's and Cook's efforts.

"I'm learning to enjoy life at The Inn. I'm surprised I never vacationed here before, " Bilbo quipped, with sparkling eyes.

Frodo was bemused. "Food appears, sheets are changed, and we meander amidst the pleasures of the Shire without lifting a finger."

"Quite so. Look at that summer Poppy! You can see the sun gleaming through it."

"You always did like shell-pink on pale white."

"It always seemed like they should have a scent, with colors that lovely."

"Bilbo."

"Eh?"

"This afternoon, in the courtyard, amidst all the fuss..."

"Poor Cami."

"Yes, I hope she's feeling better. But Bilbo, did you have to tell the Shirriffs who we were?"

"Eh? What?"

"Couldn't you have left me anonymous?"

"Don't be absurd. As if you could pass unrecognised!"

"Bilbo, " Frodo said, with some real discomfort, "It's one thing for our friends to know that we're here. But... the whole Shire?" Frodo plucked a sprig of marjoram and absentmindedly began stripping it of its leaves. "It's hard enough on Sam just to see us. I don't want him feeling he has to defend his claim to Bag End."

"Nonsense."

"Oh, it's easy for you to say. You disappear, and the legal mess is left behind, and the suspicions and the accusations and the questions and the rumors. Meanwhile you're off having a grand time." Frodo's exhasperation grew plainer.

"You worry far, far too much, " Bilbo snorted, poking his cane at his nephew.

"So you frequently say, " his nephew retorted. "Uncle, dear, maybe someday you could try giving me less cause to worry!"

"Fiddlesticks."

"I don't want half the Shire poking about and wondering why we're back, " Frodo insisted. "I wish I could just traipse around the woods in peace and quiet, and visit all my old haunts, and leave it at that. I wish I had stayed out of everyone's hair. I wish the party had been half that size. No-- I wish it had been a quarter the size. Sometimes I wish it had been just us and Cami!"

"Not even Sam..." Bilbo turned, peering at him. "... Frodo? Not even Sam?"

"Can't you see how hard this is on him? He was finally settled, finally focused, finally devoted to his faily and his work and his Shire. And I come sailing back into his life from out of nowhere and upset it all again. He's bending over backwards to try and do right by me, but neither of us know what that is, and neither of us can relax around the other." Frodo, with the week's tension finally put in plain language, was spent by the declaration.
"Some mischief will come out of this afternoon, I fear," Frodo muttered wearily, and then he fell silent.

Bilbo poked at the snapdragons. "The pink clashes with the orange nasturtiums, " he declared with distaste, and moved on to another flower bed.

[ March 15, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

piosenniel

03-15-2003, 01:01 AM

Supper was ready – Cook’s honeyed wheat bread sliced and waiting in small baskets; the salted butter in chilled crocks. Harvest stew tonight, thick with chunks of potato and vegetables from the garden. The mingled scents of onion, rosemary, and lemon thyme crept through the kitchen, sending beckoning fingers of savory scent into the Common Room to call the guests to eat. Several plump, sweet apple pies cooled on the sideboard, little puffs of cinnamon and sugared steam drifting up from them, a promise of delight to fill in the last empty corners.

Cook sat at the table, her job done, watching Ruby and Buttercup cart stacks of thick crockery bowls and plates out in readiness for the supper rush. Prim sat with her, polishing the last of the water spots from the spoons and knives. Buttercup paused by the large cauldron of stew and gave it a quick stir with the long wooden spoon. She peered in at it, and fished up a few spoons full, looking at it closely. ‘Cook, you’ve for gotten something I think.’

‘What would that be?’ Cook took a long swig of watered wine and put her tired feet up on the chair opposite her. ‘Meat!’ cried Buttercup, motioning Ruby over to confirm her find. ‘There’s not a speck of meat in it.’

‘And that’s exactly how it’s going to be served tonight,’ said Cook, ‘just the way Mistress Piosenniel would like it, had she been here to enjoy a bowl full.’ She looked over at Prim, her brows raised. ‘You going to tell him where she is?’ asked Cook. ‘I suppose I will if he asks me,’ returned Prim. 'She seems to like him well enough. And he does seem a good man at heart, if you catch my drift.’

‘Oh, aye, he’s a good’un in my estimation. Though I have to agree with Miz Amaranthas – he should never have let her come traipsing all the way here in her condition.’ Both of them chuckled at this statement, knowing he would have been hard put to keep her from doing what she wanted. Ruby and Buttercup, their chores done, sat down with them in that brief lull before the hungry guests demanded supper to listen to Cook and Prim discuss the Big Folk.

They were all eyes and ears as Cook leaned forward and spoke softly to Prim. ‘Ferdibrand was by today with a side of bacon from that big hog he got last year, and just butchered. Said he’d been to Bree-land recently looking for a breeder sow from one of the pig farmers there.’ Prim nodded, encouraging her to go on. ‘Said there was a lot of talk about certain Big Folk round about those parts who were grumbling and angry about how they’d been pushed about wrongly since the King’s Ban on them coming into the Shire. Crazy,mean talk about us cheating them out of their rightful due somehow.’ Ruby shuddered,her mind conjuring up visions of Men, seven feet tall with pointed yellow teeth, scraggly long, greasy hair, loud voices and mean expressions on their faces.

‘I wonder if Halfred knows about any of this,’ commented Prim. ‘Maybe he’d better see if he can find a few more volunteers to patrol round the Bounds. I can still remember old Sharkey’s men when they lorded it over us.’ She shuddered, recalling the misery and destruction visited on the families she knew in Hobbiton.

Their talk was cut short by one of the servers poking his head into the kitchen. ‘Got some hungry ones out here. Make up a tray and I’ll serve it round.’

The four of them swung into their well oiled routine, and soon had an army of steaming bowls set out on trays to carry into the Common Room. All talk of Men and their threats was put aside as bread and stew, and thick slices of apple pie with slices of crumbly cheddar were served up to the hungry mob.

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

Gandalf_theGrey

03-15-2003, 01:04 AM

Merry's eyes sparkled a pleasantly-surprised greeting as he strode up and presented himself with a smile and a jaunty bow to Pio and Rose. "Good day to you both! Mine's certainly become better on finding you here. Seeing your familiar faces makes the Floating Log feel more like home. How are you?"

"Join us, Merry." Pio waved an expansive gesture of welcome towards a nearby chair. "So good to see you again after the party at the Green Dragon. Rose and I are making for two separate destinations. Depending on where the road takes you, you might be able to lend us a hand ... holding the reins of a pony cart that is! But where's Estella? It would have been nice having another opportunity to see your wife again."

"Estella's at home in Brandy Hall. I'm on my way to Bag End for a little get-together, lads only." Merry grinned in between bites of the chicken stew with mushroom gravy and biscuits and sips of the beer he'd ordered. "Had I thought of it sooner, I would have loaned Estella my mail-shirt and shield, so's she could have snuck in with me as if she were Dernhelm. But alas, the idea has come too late."

Rose and Merry and Pio shared a laugh, then Pio looked thoughtfully between Rose and Merry. "Bag End, this could work out well ... I wonder if I may ask a favor ... "

Merry chuckled, playfully handing Rose his shield as if to loan it to the child, then pretended as if he were about to remove his mail shirt. Rose loosely grasped the shield, tracing its white-horse design with her fingers.

Pio smiled and continued. "I was hoping you might carry Rose with you as far as Bywater, and see her safely to Miss Cami at The Green Dragon."

Merry, who was in rare form, stroked his chin, considering. "Well now, ever since that Entdraught in Fangorn Forest I'm nearly as large as a pony. But if I'm to carry Rose all that way, I draw the line at wearing a saddle." Settling into a more serious tone, he finished, "Why yes, of course Rose is welcome to accompany me in my pony cart to The Green Dragon Inn. I'll be happy to take her. You're heading East then, Pio? If it's on your way, please, stop in and say hello to Estella. Tell her to do plenty of baking while she awaits my return!"

Merry's eyes glinted and he spoke no further to explain his last cryptic remarks about Estella and baking, though of course he was thinking about how she'd discover the poem he'd left her in the flour canister. For now a band of wandering musicians was striking up a rousing rendition of the springle-ring. Taking up his shield from Rose, he leaned it against his chair. Merry bowed his best long, low bow to Piosenniel in respect of the happy new arrival of life she was expecting, then turned and extended a hand to her traveling companion. "May I have this dance, young Rose?"

[ March 15, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

mark12_30

03-15-2003, 02:42 AM

"Up the ladder?"
"You can climb trees, can't you? Up you go."

Once the four of them were up, the three boys explored the nooks and crannies; but Lindo sat on the edge of the loft above Mithadan's horse, swinging his legs (although his knuckles gripping the beam were white) and casually talking to the horse.

"What's your name, old fellow?"

The horse snorted, and Lindo nodded. "Sorry. Middle-aged fellow. But what's your name?"

The horse went back to his hayrack, and Lindo watched him eat. When he finished, Lindo left the boys busy conspiring, and went back down the ladder, and into the stall with the horse. When Mith came to check on his mount before retiring, he heard the Snowhobbits talking and laughing up in the loft, but he found Lindo snoring in a corner of the stall.

"You're not going to sleep here all night, are you?" Mithadan asked.

"Bad idea, " Lindo agreed, and moved to the empty stall next door. But he gave Mith's horse a caress on the way out, and said, "See you in the morning, friend."

"Good night, " Mithadan said.

"Oh... sorry. Rude of me. Yes, good night, " Lindo yawned.

"Are you going to share this stall with Gamba?" Mithadan asked.

"What? Oh, it's you."

"We can sleep outside, " Gamba replied, irritated, reaching for his boys.

"My braids won't strangle you if you keep a safe distance. There's room enough, I think. " Lindo yawned again, waving Gamba and the boys into the stall.

Gamba frowned, Mithadan laughed, and Lindo lay down and resumed snoring.

"Go on, there's plenty of room, " Mithadan said. "Or take the other stall."

"We'll be all right here, " Gamba said, and eyeing Lindo cautiously, led his boys to the other side of the stall.

Mithadan was still chuckling on his way out of the stable. The boys curled up around Gamba, who tried to stay awake, but his eyelids were too heavy. In his dreams, he heard voices at first, and soft snickering.

"Dad's braids won't strangle him, but ours might."

"Tem, you hold him, I'll wrap your braids around him, and Tocca, you pull."

"Nah. We'd better be nice."

"Why?"

"So the little kids don't get scared."

"Oh. You sure can wreck a good joke."

"Dad would wreck it worse if we scared those little kids."

"Good point."

At that point in Gamba's dream, the Snowhobbits turned into shirriffs on ponies. Mithadan stood accused, Gamba swung, the Shirriff swung back, and Cami got clobbered again. The dream went downhill from there.

[ March 15, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-15-2003, 10:40 AM

The sun was dipping behind the horizon when Ban woke up from his nap. Zira and Azra had also fallen asleep and were still curled up close against his side. "Papa, papa, I'm hungry." Abar grabbed onto his father's wrist and was trying to get him to rise. "Do you have any food?"

Ban sat up, his head still groggy and eyes full of sleep. He pushed his hands into his pockets, and came upon a small scrap of bread that he'd stuffed there earlier in the day from a picnic they'd been having. Abar tore greedily at the crust, then looked over at his father, "I'm still hungry. Is there anything more?"

Ban gently shook Zira, so that she awoke. The two hobbits glanced around at the deepening twilight, discussing what to do next. "I don't think we're meant to be here. Something must have happened," Zira objected.

"Papa, there's a path. I saw it when you slept." The small boy grabbed his father by the arm and led him to a dirt path. Since they were on the extreme eastern edge of the pond, which was thickly shaded with trees, it was impossible for them to see the houses or the lights of the Inn that stood further west.

"Zira, I think the lad's right. We've no food or blankets for the children. We can't stay here all night. That path seems to lead down to some kind of roadway to the east. Perhaps, we'll come to an Inn or house, and can make inquiries about Maura."

"I agree. We don't seem to have much choice."

The family headed east on the road leading away from Bywater towards Frogmorton, a small village some ten miles distant.

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

Back in the Inn, Maura and Cami had eaten their dinner in near silence, sitting and worrying, as they still had no news of Rose or Zira.

Cami had tried to enlist Gamba's aid, but he had merely shrugged his shoulders and run off with his brothers. "Mom, she probably just stayed with Annee. Maybe she didn't want to come." Cami didn't think that was likely. Rose had every reason to return to the Shire, at least for a visit. It was familiar turf to her, and she would probably see friends she knew.

Cami watched as Gamba and the boys melted into the twilight without even bothering to say good night. She knew she should talk with Gamba about Maura, but she didn't have the heart to do it tonight. She wanted to speak with Maura about the serious problems she'd been having with the children. But that, too, should probably wait.

Maura paced restlessly around the Common Room, and finally spoke to Mithadan. "Maybe I should go looking for them?"

The Man shook her head. "Bird is still out searching. She's good at this kind of thing. She may well find them. And you might ask Lorien again."

"I've done that, but he swears they'll be fine."

"Then they probably will. Let's wait and see what happens. You know Maura. The Shire is a sleepy place. Not too much goes on here. The worst that can happen is that they'll go hungry, and have a stony bed for one night. If we need to, we'll look tomorrow."

"Alright, I'll wait. I know you didn't let Cami down before."

Then Cami and Maura went off on their own, and gave each other such comfort as they could manage.

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

dragoneyes

03-15-2003, 12:20 PM

Pippin turned away from the door. Another invitation to another gathering, though this one seemed more private. He read through the invitation, asking for food and drink to be brought, he should be able to come up with something. He spoke with Diamond and she was perfectly happy to look after Faramir for that evening.

Pippin got a small cart ready, filling it with what food he could find and could spare, and a barrel or two. He also loaded a crate of pipeweed onto it, knowing that Merry had been wanting to try it for some time. Faramir wandered out side and foung his father readying to leave, just sorting out the pony. "Where are you going?" He asked, nobody ever told him anything. "I," said Pippin, turning to face his son, "Am going to Bag End."
"Why?" asked Faramir, wanting to find out as mch as possible. Pippin knelt down to Faramir's level and said "I'm going to visit Sam, Merry, Frodo and Bilbo." Faramir's eyes lit up at the mention of these four names, "Can I come?" he pushed, dearly wanting to see them all again, he had enjoyed himself very much in the Green Dragon. "I'm not sure you would enjoy yourself Faramir, we'll be talking about lots of boring adult things."
"What do you mean by 'adult things'?" said Faramir, a little annoyed that his father hadn't said 'yes' strait away. "Well," began Pippin, "We might talk about how well the corn has been growing this year, or what direction the wind is blowing in, or even about the price of a barrel of mead if we're going to be really adventurous." Faramir looked down at the ground, he was very dissapointed, he'd been expecting tales of far off lands and stories of exciting battles.

Pippin urged him to go back to his mother. He smiled to himself as he watch Faramir scamper back up the garden path, yet he felt slightly guilty that he hadn't been entirely truthful.

piosenniel

03-15-2003, 01:51 PM

You little night owls have robbed me of my sleep once again!

Pio shifted once more on the chair, her feet propped on the windowsill. Between the twins’ pummeling and nudging and Rose’s long list of questions, she had not much if any time for sleep. The sun was just rising, the shadows of the trees outside her window sent long fingers of shadow reaching westward. Good smells, of crusty breakfast loaves, first baking and now cooling, had been floating up from the kitchen below since the wee hours of the new day, enticing her as they drifted in through the open window.

Hungry, Pio rose and pulled on fresh clothes for the day. Rose was still sleeping soundly, her brown curls just peeking above the coverlet. ‘Wake up, Rose,’ she called softly to her, and shook her on the shoulder. ‘I must be off soon, and you will have to meet Merry in the Common Room and be on your way to Cami.’

Rose sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. Pio pulled on her cloak and stuffed the last of her things into her scuffed leather pack. Rose smiled, thinking how that pack had been a familiar sight to her ever since she and Cami had first met their shipmates. The Elf drew out a small leather purse and filled it with two gold coins and a number of silver pennies. She laid it on the chair which held Rose’s clothes.

‘This should get you through your stay in the Shire. The boys are waiting there for you. Buy them some treats if you will, and some for you. I will pay for the lodging and your breakfast as well as Merry’s. I will talk to him briefly just before I go, to let him know you await him downstairs.’ She gave a reassuring hug to the wide-eyed Rose. ‘Should he not be able to take you for some unseen reason, then use part of the coins to hire a cart and pony. The Green Dragon is only a little way west on this main road, in Bywater.’

Rose’s eyes lit up at the mention of Bywater, and old memories played behind her eyes. ‘Give my greetings to Cami,’ she continued, ‘when you return. And to the staff at the Green Dragon – Prim, Cook, Ruby, Buttercup, and Hob. Tell them you are a close friend of mine.’ She looked away for a moment. ‘And let Mithadan know I am fine, and will return in time for the babies to be born.’

Pio stood, gathering her cloak about her and picked up her pack. A soft knock on Merry’s door and a few whispered words when he answered, then she was down the stairs. She paid the Innkeeper, and asked for a skin of fresh water, a loaf of that tasty smelling bread, and a few apples to be brought to her.

Merimas had just finished feeding the horses when Pio entered the stable, stuffing the cloth filled with her food into the top of her pack. She fished out a silver penny and flipped it to him. His hand went up quickly and snatched the tumbling coin from the air. A few moments later and ‘Falmar was saddled and bridled, and Pio clambered on to her.

‘My thanks to you for taking such good care of ‘Falmar’ She grinned down at Merimas. ‘And ‘Falmar thanks you, also!’ She flipped another coin to him, laughing as it spiraled, glinting in the morning light, toward his eager fingers. Then they were down the road, and heading east again.

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

Child of the 7th Age

03-15-2003, 07:37 PM

Ban and Zira had trudged eastward for several miles, with Abar on his father's back, and Azra in a sling across her mother's chest. There were no other hobbits in sight, and no food to be had other than an occasional berry that grew by the road.

The couple sat down to rest under a bush, listening to the noises of a summer's night. The river was just a few paces behind them, and Abar had asked to go down on his own to get a drink.

"Be careful, Abar," his mother warned.

"He'll be fine, Zira. The river's no more than a foot deep."

To his son, he added, "Make sure to stay near the shore."

The boy nodded and darted away. Leaning over and using his hand as a scoop, he brought the water up to his lips, doing this several times. It was then that he caught sight of a bird, black with a small streak of white. She was perched on the ground near him, her head cocked sideways and staring. She looked hauntingly familiar.

"Mama! Papa!" His parents came running to his side to find out what was wrong.

"Look, I found Cami's bird. She's come to get us. Maybe she knows the way."

His mother bent down to have a look. Without warning, the bird hopped onto Zira's shoulder, and, to her surprise, spoke in a voice that registered mild annoyance, "I know you're not Rose, so I hope you're Zira. I'm tired of poking my beak into the business of every hobbit within a twenty-mile radius of Hobbiton."

"Yes, I'm Zira. Where's my brother?"

"Just follow me. Unless there's been another blow-up, and Maura's taken off with Cami, they should be at the Inn."

Bird said nothing as she flew westward, stopping now and then to perch on a limb, making sure her guests were following. Only once did they stop for a rest. Ban slipped over beside Bird, and whispered, "Are there any large wild animals near here?"

"Wild animals? Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

"That's strange. I swore I saw two pairs of eyes in the bushes about a half mile back. They were a good six feet off the ground."

Bird gave him a strange look. "Hmpf! Probably your imagination." They continued on with no further conversation until they reached the Inn.

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

It was Maura who first raced to the door of the Inn to greet his sister and her family. Zira had met him with a kiss, while Abar had flown into his uncle's arms with a warm hug. Upon seeing Cami, Zira had slipped her arms around her shoulders, saying how she had been missed.

"I have a room on the first floor, second door on the left. We can all fit there. You and Ban share the bed. I've had sleeping mats put in and a cradle for Azraph."

"And Nitir?"

"Best call her Cami here. She's next door. The rooms adjoin, and there's a door that connects. Cami's found a small burrow over by the pond, and we plan to go over there perhaps tomorrow morning or the next. We'll wait till later to have a formal ceremony, after her friend's given birth." He went on to explain what had happened to Piosenniel, and how she had come to be with Cami.

"Your daughter, Cami, will she be staying in the room?"

"I hope so. We're still waiting for her to arrive." A shadow of concern passed over Cami's face. "I expect she's gotten misplaced just as you did. My boys are out in the barn."

Maura hastily explained, "Cami's adopted several boys. Orphans. From when she was on the Star. I haven't really had a chance to meet them yet."

Zira turned and smiled, "That's wonderful. Older boys, I guess. If they're sleeping out in the barn."

"Not exactly.... One is five, and the other seven."

Zira's face registered surprise, although she tried to mask it. "They're not here with you."

"No, they're with their older brothers."

"Mama, can I go too?" Abar piped up.

Zira turned to her son, and told him to hush. "They'll be time enough to grow up later. You belong here, with us, now."

"Alright." Abar impulsively threw his arms around his mother's neck, and snuggled close to her. Cami looked away and shifted uneasily, then excused herself, and went off to her room, carefully securing the latch.

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

It was about an hour later that Maura heard the sounds of stifled weeping from next door. "Cami. It's Maura," he whispered, fidgeting with the handle, "Please open up."

"I'm fine." The small voice came back lined with untold grief, a grief that had persisted for weeks and months.

"Cami, please. We need to talk."

He heard the sound of footsteps padding to the door, and watched the handle turn. Cami's eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been crying for a while. She bit her lip to will the tears back, and turned away.

"Cami, my sister didn't mean to hurt you. I'm really sorry. It's just that our ways are, are .....different."

"Your ways are different? Well, so are mine. Where I come from, small children stay with their parents, young lads do not belt the shirriff, or make rude comments to other boys."

She looked up and stared at Maura's face. He had clearly heard the same rumors she had.

"Most of all, where I come from, children love their parents. The little ones come snuggling into bed with them to receive hugs and stories, and the older ones try to do things so they'll be proud. And if a parent lays down a rule, that rule is respected."

"You know, I think I could take anything else. The broken windows and the black eye really mean nothing. It's the part about not caring that hurts."

"Lindo's children cling to him like a burr. Abar darts to you with open arms. But my children....my children run off without a hug, without a word. The little ones didn't bother to say hello or good night. They want nothing from me, except the food I put on their plates. I am a mother in name alone. Only Rose.... She's different, but she's not here."

"I've had dreams. Strange dreams. The boys go far away, all of them except Kesha. He stays behind because of Rose. But for me there is nothing....nothing." Her voice was deep with bitterness. "I feel they take and take and take, and rarely give."

Maura slipped his arm around Cami, and pulled her close to his chest. She finally gave way to sobs, her shoulders heaving, and the tears running down her cheeks.

He thought of a dozen things he could say, things he'd learned from his talks with Bilbo. How the boys had been orphaned and had seen terrible things; how the brothers relied so much on each other; how they had many things that needed sorting out; and how you had to accept people as they were, taking what you could and leaving the rest. Perhaps Cami would deal with it better, if she had friends in Greenwood, or kin, or a husband, or a young child who loved her without reservation. But, except for Rose, there were none of these.

Yet, even to Maura, these explanations sounded like hollow excuses. Some of the things Cami had said seemed painfully true. He might be able to understand the independent actions of the older ones. But to have small children tromp off on their own without a single glance at their mother to hear a bedtime story, to ask permission or get her reassurance..... Something was very wrong.

Cami raised her head, and whispered, "I hoped it would be different here. That's why I asked Lorien to bring them. But it's not different at all. It's just the same."

"I feel they would be better off with some other family. Someone who could give them what they need. Perhaps when I get back, I'll speak with the elders and see if something can be arranged."

"Don't do that," he whispered fiercely. "Don't give up."

But he realized with a pang that he could not say the two things that would actually have done some good. That he would be there by her side to help and perhaps, Eru willing, they would have a child of their own to even out the balance, and set the sorrow and the leaving in some perspective.

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

mark12_30

03-15-2003, 09:03 PM

Mithadan came to look in on his horse, and found Gamba miserably loitering in the stable aisle with his boys. Lindo and his boys were in eating breakfast already.

"Mithadan, can you take my boys in to Pio's building and get them some food? Please?" Gamba vehemently begged as soon as he saw the man.

"You can go in, " Mith replied.

"I can't, " Gamba said. "The window. Mom is going to be so upset."

Mith's eyebrows went way up.

"I can't fix it, " Gamba pleaded. "I -- I'd have to find an axe, cut down a tree, make the boards, then make the part that goes around the clear stuff-- and-- and I can't make the clear window part, I don't know how, " he wailed in despair. "She keeps telling me to be more responsible, and look what I've done! And to Piosenniel's house, of all people. Is--" Gamba gulped. "Mithadan, is it your house too? Did I break a part of your house too?"

Mithadan reached down, and simply picked Gamba up. "I think we need to go and find your mother, " he said. "Boys, don't you want something to eat?"

"Mith--" Gamba pleaded. "Put me down."

"Food for the boys, and you're going to talk to your mother, " Mithadan said firmly. "That's that. Now, you can walk, or I can carry you into the Inn-- Like this."

"I'll walk, " Gamba said, miserably.

"No bolting."

"No, sir."

"Chin up."

"Yes, sir."

"All right. March."

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 17, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-16-2003, 12:21 AM

Maura leaned over the breakfast table, giving a kiss to his sister, and then sat down to eat.

"Where's Cami?

"She's gone off for a walk, and has asked me to speak with Gamba."

"I thought maybe you'd go off to the pond at sunrise, and set up housekeeping in that burrow."

"It's not a good time. Cami's still worried about Rose not being here. That, and other things."

"I upset her, didn't I?" Zira pressed. "What I said about her younger children."

Maura corrected her gently, "Their names are Maura and Ban. Anyway, it's not you. She's upset with her family and with herself."

Maura shook his head and continued, "In all those Elvish tales, children never enter into it. You never hear about them. It's as if they raise themselves. But, with us, it's different. When something comes between a hobbit parent and a child, it can be so, .....so painful."

He looked over at the blank wall, and stared hard at it. "In all the while we've been apart, I've never felt this bad. There's so little time. I don't know what I can do."

"We had a long talk last night. Cami would prefer that she and I leave the Inn, and go off on our own. She says she'll deal with the rest when she returns to Greenwood. I know she can't go on like this."

Zira placed her hand on top of Maura's. "You're my brother, and I trust you. Whatever you do, I'll accept. But those children are part of Cami's life now. Neither of you can pretend they're not. If you marry Cami, they become your family too. Think about that."

It was at this moment that Gamba came marching in, prodded on by Mithadan, with the other four boys dragging reluctantly behind.

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

piosenniel

03-16-2003, 04:27 AM

'Well, that's the last one.' Amaranthas put down her watering can and plucked a fat, blue hydrangea blossom for her hat. She had gotten up early and hitched Thistle to the long unused cart, planning to go down to the Inn to see Cook. Miz Rose and the children would be paying her a visit tomorrow evening, and she wanted to make sure she had some of Cook's famous jam tarts to serve them.

Thistle twitched his ears as the old Hobbit climbed into the cart, and spoke to him. ‘Let’s get on down the road, old man. I want to be to the Dragon and back before the sun gets too high in the sky. I’d just as soon be under the shade of the oak tree in the back yard than rolling down the dusty road in the noon heat.’ She flicked the reins lightly as she spoke, sending the pony in motion.

There were many Hobbits out and about on early morning business as she turned the cart down Hill Lane to Bywater Road. They stopped and stared, their mouths gaping at this unusual sight. Amaranthas in her pony cart, a bright blue flower stuck gaily in her straw hat, waving as she passed them, a smile on her face. ‘She’s gone mad in her old age,’ they would later say to their families and neighbors. ‘She hasn’t been out in that old cart for years, and there she was sitting like some Queen on her way to an important meeting, smiling and waving as she passed.’

Amaranthas cackled to herself as she passed by each group of staring Hobbits. ‘Keeps ‘em on their toes, don’t it?’ she cried to Thistle. ‘Thick-headed louts need a little twist in their routine, don’t they?’ Plump little Thistle, if he could be said to think at all about what she said, was probably grieving, even now, at the fact he was having to put out this much energy and effort so early in the morning.

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

Hob saw her as she pulled into the Inn yard, and ran to bring the pony near the kitchen door. ‘That’s a good lad,’ she said to him, as he helped her from the cart. He escorted her to the door and ushered her into the cool interior of the kitchen, then went to take care of Thistle.

‘Miz Amaranthas, what brings you here to the Inn?’ Cook came up, wiping her floury hands on her apron and had the old Hobbit sit down at the table. ‘Buttercup, bring her a cup of tea and a fresh scone. If you don’t mind Miz Amaranthas, I’m just going to finish my berry pies for the day and set them to baking. Then I’ll join you.’

Amaranthas sat quietly, enjoying her snack, watching Cook roll out the pastry dough and fit it into fluted pans, fill it with heaping portions of blackberries and huckleberries, and set a pastry top on it, marked with a wheat stalk pattern. Prim had come in, her early morning duties seen to and sat down with the Old Hobbit. Cook, her pies now slid into the ovens, also joined them.

The trio soon fell to gossiping, with Prim and Cook filling Amaranthas in on all that had transpired yesterday. She was aghast at the behavior of the young Hobbits. ‘And you say Miz Pio has left? Will she back tomorrow, do you know?’ Prim and Cook looked at one another. Prim spoke up, ‘I don’t think so. She means to stay out of this whole mess until it’s blown over.’ Amaranthas tapped her fingers on the table, impatiently. ‘I was hoping she would come to the party.’

‘Party?’ asked Cook. Amaranthas explained Bilbo’s request to her and the plans he had made for the party of his own. ‘That brings me round to why I’ve come. I wanted to get some of those delicious little jam tarts you make to serve when Miz Rose and the children come.’ ‘Done!’ said Cook. ‘In fact I’ll do you one better. Don’t you worry at all about what to serve them. Let me and the girls fix it up and we’ll send it up to you with Hob. Crisp fried chicken, I’m thinking. And tater salad. Corn on the cob, dripping with butter. A few loaves of crusty bread, and a jar of Gammer Nutmeg’s honey.’

‘No trouble at all,’ said Prim, as Amaranthas protested that would be too much for them to do. ‘You get some of the boys who live around you to help set up some tables in your backyard, and let us bring the meal and all the fixin’s to you. Enjoy the party and don’t wear yourself out getting ready for it.’

A few more bits and pieces of gossip were exchanged. Amaranthas thanked them for their offer, saying she would see Hob then, early tomorrow evening. She climbed back on board her cart, and with a cluck of her tongue, they were off home.

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Auriel Haevasawen

03-16-2003, 02:49 PM

Stoatie shoved a pounding head under the tap of the water pump in the yard. A couple of sharp yanks upon the lever finally brought ice-cold water coursing out over him. He shouted a wordless yell but did not move. A few more rhythmic soakings and he ceased. He stood up and stretched out.

He had spent the night in the ditch just outside Bree. That was no inconvenience to him. It happened with dull monontony. The hangover blasted away by the pump from the spring was an almost daily routine. There was just the small matter of remembering the night before and everything would slide into place as it always did.

He stood there, thinking. His face, somewhat like the last, forgotten potato in the sack was further wrinkled with his thoughts. He bit at a nail that was coal-black. "Ah could do with a cuppa," he said aloud to no one in particular. "Na, too much trouble." He retrieved a bottle from his filthy coat pocket. It was all but empty. "Oh well, this'll have to do me." He unscrewed the top and 'knocked back' the remainder of the yellowish liquid inside. With little care for the hooves of animals he cast the bottle aside upon the cobbles of the yard. It shattered. The loud noise on an otherwise eerily quiet morn almost made him jump.

He swore under his breath. "Ah remembers, that's it. Best find the Boss. Ah remembers exactly what's required of us today." He allowed himself a little chortle. "Now, where did I leave him?"

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

03-16-2003, 02:52 PM

Amaranthas turned the cart west from Hill Lane, and headed throught the gate, taking the short upward path to Bag End. She could see Elanor and the smaller children were already out on the greensward playing some sort of tag game with Elanor as referee. Little Rose had just barely escaped the clutches of Merry and was running pell mell for the safety of Elanor’s skirts. The old Hobbit waved as she passed them, and they paused in their game to wave back then scampered quickly after her to see what she had come for.

‘I’ll get Mama,’ cried Rosie, darting away up the steps and in through the door. Elanor assisted Amaranthas from the cart, while Merry and Pippin stood by, patting Thistle on the nose. A chorus of giggles broke out as Amaranthas stepped up to the porch, and she turned to see the cause of their laughter.

Thistle’s fat tongue was in the process of making a slurping swath up the cheek of young Pippin who laughed at the wet tickle of it, while Merry giggled at him, and Goldi shrieked with laughter, clapping her pudgy little hands in delight. ‘He likes me, Miz Amaranthas!’ called Pip, as she chortled at the sight. Young Merry poked his brother and rolled his eyes. ‘You mean he likes the strawberry jam you left on your face from second breakfast!’ Goldi, by this time, had fished a linty piece of apple from the pocket of her pinafore and was holding it out for inspection to the pony.

Amaranthas heard a gasp behind her, and turned toward the door to see MIz Rose with a horrified look on her face as Thistle’s great teeth approached the toddler’s fingers. ‘He’s gentle, Miz rose. Don’t you worry about your little one’s fingers.’ She nodded toward the pony who now curled his lips back and lightly plucked the treat from Goldi’s fingers. Golldi hopped up and down with glee and searched furiously through her pockets for any more edible treasures.

‘Let’s go in, dear and sit for a minute. You look like you need to get off your feet.’ Amaranthas commandeered Rose’s arm and steered her toward the parlour. ‘Fetch your Mother something cool to drink, won’t you girls?’ she asked Elanor and Rosie, as she took the chair opposite Rose. ‘I want to talk over my plans to have her and you children over tomorrow evening.’ She leaned forward toward Rose. ‘And if you don’t mind Miz rose, I’d like to see if Frodo-lad can come over this afternoon and help get the tables and chairs set up for us all in my back yard.’

Elanor and Rose returned with tall glasses of cool tea for the both of them, and the two women fell to talking about tomorrow’s events. Elanor and Rosie sat down quietly by their mother’s chair, listening closely. Miz Rose assured her guest that Frodo-lad would be over, and with the wagon. ‘We have a trestle table he can bring to you, and some chairs, too. Though I think it will probably be only the adults who sit on them. If I know my brood, they will relish the thought of dragging their plates off to sit on the grass by themselves.’

‘Hey!’ cried Rosie, standing up to get their full attention. ‘I can help, too.’ A scuffling was heard in the doorway as young Merry and Pip poked their heads round the doorway. ‘We’re coming too!’ they scuttled in to stand with pleading faces by their mother’s chair. ‘We want to help. We’re big enough!’ Amaranthas laughed as little Pippin puffed up his chest like a partridge and flexed his scrawny, four year old arms.

‘We’ll see,’ came the noncommittal answer from Rose. ‘Now if you all will escort Miz Amaranthas back to her cart, then we’ll talk about who is going where.’

theWhiteLady

03-16-2003, 03:19 PM

The night passed slowly as Rose drifted in and out of dreams; spending most of her time listening restlessly to the chorus of crickets singing gustily outside her window. Every now and then, a shock and thrill would run through her and she would sit very still, thinking of the next morning or of the tales she would tell her friend when she returned. But that, of course, brought up questions of how long she was to stay in the Shire, and why she had been brought here in the first place, which simply sent her mind into a whirl once more. Finally managing to cast these uncomfortable thoughts aside, the young hobbit managed to capture a few hours of peaceful sleep in the wee hours of dawn.

After Pio had departed (only later did Rose realize the Elf had conviently left her own destination a mystery,) it was a very reluctant hobbit indeed who slipped from between the warm covers. Even on a cool summer day that held the promise of much adventure and a pleasant companion, a soft bed is still hard to leave. Rose was accustomed to rising early, however, and she forced herself out with minimal groaning and mumbled complaints. Her moans turned quickly into a smile as she remembered the pack Pio had left for her; fresh clothes and a bit of money! “That woman never misses a thing,” Rose thought with an admiring shake of her brown curls.

Dressed in a very proper, clean skirt and blouse and with wild curls brushed into some form of submission, Rose found her way into the common room which was already quite bustling with activity. Quiet Shire goings-on were being discussed by a pair of old hobbits in a corner, while another younger group was holding a spirited discussion over the ban of men from their home. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen door and as Rose faintly remembered Pio mentioning something about breakfast, and as her stomach was asking quite audibly to be fed, and as Merry did not yet seem present, she decided to investigate if the food here was as good as she had once heard rumored.

A few moments later, she was munching happily on a few strings of crispy bacon arranged neatly inside a warm biscuit with scrambled eggs and, of course, fried mushrooms to the side. Rose listened half heartedly to the group beside her, but most of her thoughts were fixed on the day to come, and wishing she would get to the Green Dragon so Cami would explain what in Middle-earth was going on!

Just as the last vestiges of breakfast were being gobbled up, Rose spotted Merry’s tall figure standing quite head and shoulders above the other company. He was greeted respectfully by all, and Rose blushed to see his eyes light upon her with a smile. Merry came right over, and poor Rose found herself almost intimidated by the full extent of his physical and celebrated historical stature. His eyes smiled quite merrily down upon her, however, and gave her enough courage to smile back and greet him with a polite, “Good morning, Master Merry.”

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]

piosenniel

03-16-2003, 04:15 PM

It took the morning and into the early afternoon for Pio to reach Bucklebury, with only a short stop for ‘Falmar to drink at a pool of clear water she had spied from the road. At the Brandywine river, they had passed over the Bridge of Stonebows, and then turned south through the Hay Gate and into Buckland.

Pio found the residents of this area of the Shire less surprised at seeing an Elf pass through. And she found them quite willing to help her find her way to Brandy Hall. One in fact, Ilberic Bracegirdle, was bound for Brandy Hall on some business with the Master’s hostler, and invited her to ride along with him. He eyed ‘Falmar as he spoke. ‘Of course you’ll have to go a little slower, my mount won’t match the pace I’m sure yours can set.’

It was a pleasant ride with Ilberic on the path along the river. He was a horse and pony breeder in the area, and was going down to Brandy Hall to check on some new born foals, the father of which had been one of his herd. ‘Yes, a fine looking grey colt and a little black filly with a white blaze. Master Meriadoc wants to keep the colt, and I will be taking the filly when she is old enough.’ He looked appraisingly at ‘Falmar. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, that’s a horse from Rohan, isn’t she? A beauty, too, if I say so myself.’ He looked inquiringly at the Elf. ‘How long are you staying at Brandy Hall? It would be interesting to see what her sort of bloodlines could introduce to our horses.’ Pio smiled, thanking him for the compliments to ‘Falmar, and then explained that she meant to stay only a few days at the most. His face fell at her answer and he commented wistfully that her departure was their loss.

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

It was Estella who answered the door when Pio knocked. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore a great white apron round her. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she saw the elf standing on her doorstep, but gracious hostess that she was, she recovered herself quickly and invited Pio in. ‘What brings you to Buckland, Mistress Piosenniel.’ She was polite enough not to ask where her husband might be.

Pio told her she needed some quiet time away from the tumult of the Green Dragon, but nothing more. She did mention that at her stay at the Floating Log she had seen Merry and had supper with him. Estella smiled with delight at the mention of her husband.

‘But I see you are just going to do some cooking, Miz Estella.’ Pio noted the apron and the set of measuring cups hastily jammed into one pocket. ‘Yes, some muffins for afternoon tea. You’ll stay won’t you? In fact, with Merry gone the house is a little lonely. Could I get you to stay for a few days until he returns?’ ‘You’ve read my mind,’ laughed Pio, as they entered the large kitchen.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Gandalf_theGrey

03-16-2003, 05:42 PM

The journey of Merry and Rose from Frogmorton to Bywater in a pony cart went pleasantly enough. The cart gently jiggled and swayed to a music of clapping hoof, quivering bottle, and Merry's songs of sleepy Shire and robust Rohan. Merry, a congenial enough host even whilst away from hole and hearth, offered Rose along the way sweet strawberries nearly as big as her fist and still on the vine, and let Rose hold the reins to drive the cart.

The day would have been not only pleasant, but in fact perfect ... until Merry happened to think of the green leather-bound book he'd meant to show Pippin, The Tale of Years – Chronology of the Westlands. The book had been left behind in Buckland. No frown made it to Merry's face though. For Pip was certain to be just bursting with new tales at Bag End. That is, if he wasn't up to fresh mischief and creating such tales right on the spot at Bilbo and Frodo's dinner party!

As they came nearer The Green Dragon, Rose and Merry discussed the quaintness of there being a North Farthing Stone travelling marker separate from the Three Farthing Stone denoting West, South, and East, and whether you could truly claim to be in three places at once were you to stand at the top of the Three Farthing Stone.

At last the sportive sign of The Green Dragon came into view, though even before Merry could descry the sign, Cami had seen them coming and was standing out front cheerily waving them in.

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

Estella's eyes widened with surprised delight on seeing the powder-covered note sticking up out of the flour canister. So this is what the cryptic comments that Pio had relayed from Merry about how as his wife she should keep busy and be sure to do plenty of baking had been all about! Shaking out bits of flour and unfolding the paper, she smiled and read:

To My Dear Wife Estella, with all my love.

Without you, I am only grain
Awaiting life to share.
But o! How very much I gain
By the sweetness of your care!

Your vanilla kiss and gentle touch,
The fire in your smile glowing,
Your voice of water pure and clear,
All blend to overflowing!

You make our smial home, my love
With beauty in deed and way.
May our love never-ending be
The bread of every day.

-- Always yours,

Merry

[ March 19, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

Carrûn

03-16-2003, 06:02 PM

Frodo-lad excitedly raced through the house in an attempt to locate the trestle table. He had been into many of the closets, but with no success. Finally he located it in the corner of one of the rooms. Dragging it outside, he loaded it into his small but sturdy wagon. Setting up tables and chairs for parties was something he greatly enjoyed, it made him feel grown-up and important.

He was somewhat annoyed but not surprised when his two younger brothers insisted on going along. To avoid trouble, he put Merry-lad on the right side of the wagon and Pippin-lad on the left to steady it. Placing himself behind it he gave it a firm push and the trio headed off down the dusty path towards Amaranthas's.

[ March 23, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

piosenniel

03-17-2003, 04:07 AM

Try as she might, Gilly’s arguments to her parents fell on deaf ears. She sighed, wishing it could be different but she had made up her mind and intended to go to Hobbiton. Taking pen and paper, she wrote a short note to Amaranthas:

Miz Amaranthas Bolger
Hobbiton, Westfarthing, The Shire

24 Thrimidge (23 Lotessë)

My dear Miz Amaranthas,

You cannot begin to know how your letter filled me with delight. Your kind offer to introduce me to Mistress Piosenniel has filled me with just the resolve I needed to pack up what little I own and to strike out for Hobbiton.

It would be best, I think, if I could leave soon and head east from here. In fact, I think I shall be able to set out tomorrow. I’ll be on foot, so it will take about three good days of walking to come to Hobbiton.

If you would be so kind as to allow me to stay at your home until I am needed by Mistress Piosenniel, I would much appreciate it.

Thank you, once again, for thinking of me and offering this opportunity.

Best regards,

* Gilly *

Gillyflower Took
Waymeet, Westfarthing, The Shire

Child of the 7th Age

03-17-2003, 11:57 AM

Maura pulled Mithadan to the side and asked if he could keep the younger children busy while he spoke with Gamba.

"Your mother suggested we get to know each other. First, I need to tell you who I am. That's only fair. I've heard a lot about you, since you're so important to Cami."

"Your mother's old teacher Bilbo arranged with Ancalimon and Lorien for us to come to the Inn. I'm Maura Took. I'm sure you've heard about Beleriand, and how your mother and I met. We pledged our love, and hoped to marry. Now, we've been given a chance to spend a little time together to exchange our vows."

"You and your brothers are here, along with Lindo and my family, to share that special time with us. We asked Lorien if you could come."

"I wish that you and I could spend time getting to know each other. But these few weeks are all we have. After that, I must return to my own age, and you and your mother to hers."

Gamba did not respond, but asked, "Where's my mom?"

"She's on a morning walk. She should return shortly."

"Is she mad?"

"Mad? No. About what?"

"The window."

Maura fought back a smile. Cami was an indulgent parent, perhaps too indulgent, and the thought of her wasting time or energy worrying about a window was very strange indeed.

Then he saw the boy's serious face and answered more gently. "Your mother isn't the kind of person to get upset about a window, and neither am I. At least not longer than the first five minutes after it gets broken. She hoped you'd understand that."

"In any case, I thought you and I might make a new window frame together. Your mother has volunteered to work in the kitchens. In exchange, Prim will buy a new window pane and have it installed in the frame we make. Since your mother and I have so little time together, I'll also be helping out in the kitchens just so I can be near her."

"What about the shirriff, and the punch?"

Maura sighed. "I can't lie about that. No hobbit would be pleased. But is she mad? No. Your mother is not the type to yell or get angry. In fact, I can't think of anything further from her nature than that."

"But my mother looks sad. Why?"

"Yes, she is sad. She's a bit lonely. You and your brothers spend a great deal of time having fun together, and leave her sitting by herself. That could make anyone lonely."

"I don't know why. She doesn't need us anymore. She's got you."

"Me? Life's not that simple, I'm afraid. One person doesn't fill all the spaces. Even if I could be with your mom all the time, which I can't, she'd still spend a lot of time worrying about you and being lonely if you weren't here."

"But I am here!"

"Yes and no. Sometimes we all forget about the little things. I'm no exception."

"What little things?"

"Nothing special. Maybe thanking your mom for taking that punch or asking her how her black eye feels. If you like to sleep outside, that's fine. But did you ever invite her to drop by for a good night hug or even to stay with you outside one night? She would you know. There's very little that she wouldn't do for you."

"Gamba, Cami relies on you. And if you wanted to, you could help your brothers understand how to show respect and affection and trust. But wanting to do that has to come from inside yourself. Cami can't do it, and I certainly can't do it."

"Anyways, if you want to make that window frame, or talk, let me know. I'd like to let you in on a little secret, something no one else knows, so you and your brothers, and the other kids, could do something nice for your mom. I think you'd have a lot of fun. But that's up to you, whether you're interested or not."

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

Child of the 7th Age

03-17-2003, 02:33 PM

It was mid-day by the time Bilbo came tapping on the door of Bag-end, leaving his cart round the side. He had promised Sam to help with preparations for the dinner, and had managed to get Bingo Chubb to go into the woods with his bow and arrow and secure a fine haunch of venison for them. In the back of his cart, in addition to the roast, there was also a barrel of ale he'd begged from Prim by using some of that famous Baggins charm.

"Where's Frodo?" Sam inquired.

"Probably off tramping somewhere in the fields. I left a note on our door, so perhaps he'll join us later."

"Any word on our guests?" countered Bilbo.

"Ah, yes. The overnight post brought news that Merry and Pippin will be joining us tomorrow evening. In fact, I'm hoping they get in earlier in the day. A bit of fishing or a tramp in the woods before dinner wouldn't hurt any of us. What have you heard?"

"Frodo and I will certainly be here. But I don't think Maura can make it. He and Cami have been wanting to go off someplace in private ever since he arrived. Everytime they try, something happens."

"Maura's family finally came through, but we're still waiting for Cami's daughter Rose Goodchild. But Lorien swears he's seen her in the Shire, and that she'll be here shortly. Hopefully, by tomorrow. If that's so, she and Maura have something planned for that evening and the next morning. And, goodness knows, they have little enough time to share, so I'm not going to press them."

Bilbo set aside his cane and began rolling up his sleeves, looking over in Sam's direction. "Alright, enough talk, where's that work that needs doing?"

Sam took him inside the kitchen and pointed to a heaping bushel of taters that needed peeling, and several buckets of mushrooms to be cleaned and cut.

"Goodness, gracious! So much?"

Sam grinned back. "Well, Mister Bilbo, my appetite hasn't gotten any less over the years, I'm afraid. Don't you remember how much we used to put away?"

"Let's just hope my nephew keeps his head on his shoulders and manages to get over here to help us."

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

mark12_30

03-17-2003, 02:46 PM

Frodo finished his walk and returned to the Inn. He went to the common room and ate elevensies. Then he returned to his room, and found the note that Bilbo had left for him.

Pocketing the note, he headed up the hill, and arrived there before noon, and knocked on the familiar door.

[ March 17, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Orual

03-17-2003, 08:00 PM

Sam enjoyed talking with Bilbo as they peeled the potatoes, and washed and cut the mushrooms. They spoke a lot of Sam's job as mayor, of his family, of Rosie, and of the Shire, and little of Bilbo and Frodo, but that was all right. Here there was not that tension, the worry to say the wrong word that seemed to have existed between Frodo and Sam. The West wasn't spoken of much, but it was because the conversation didn't steer that way. The Shire and the doings of the Gamgee family made for plenty of conversation material.

Sam was in the middle of telling a particularly funny story about Pippin, Goldilocks, and a skunk, when someone knocked on the door. "One moment!" he called, and put down the knife he had been using to peel the taters. "Just a moment," he added as he hurried to the door.

"Hullo, Mr. Frodo!" he said cheerfully, gesturing for Frodo to come in. "Mr. Bilbo and I were just fixing some things for the dinner. We're in the kitchen--come join us!"

Frodo agreed, and they went into the kitchen.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-17-2003, 10:04 PM

"Ah, Frodo, you must have seen my note. You had a good walk, I hope."

Frodo nodded, then smiled over at his uncle. Bilbo handed his nephew the peeler for the taters, and said he'd had enough peeling and would like to step outside and get a bit of air. He went out the door, sat down on a bench, and lit his pipe, staying there a good long time.

Inside he could hear Bilbo's and Frodo's voices going back and forth on this and that piece of news about doings in the Shire. He even heard Frodo sing a snatch of a song or two, and Sam join in on the choruses. It was the happiest that Bilbo had heard him the whole trip. Ah, if only I could box Sam and his family up and have Frodo take them back to the West. Especially since it doesn't look as if I'll be going back. I worry about the lad. He spends too much time thinking about "what if" instead of living in the here and now. With these thoughts, Bilbo fell asleep on the bench, until Frodo woke him for the return trek, and bundled him into the cart.

"Tomorow evening we'll meet again for the party," Frodo called out to Sam and waved as he headed back to the Inn.

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

piosenniel

03-18-2003, 04:55 AM

Estella had just invited Pio to sit down and have something cool to drink, when the young maid servant, Salvia Burrow, who had been cleaning Master Meriadoc’s study came flying into the kitchen. Her face was ruddy from the rush to reach the kitchen, and in her hand she bore a green, leather bound, thick book.

‘Mistress Estella,' she cried all out of breath, ‘he’s gone and left it behind!’ She held aloft the book. Estella blanched. ‘Oh no, Pip will be angry! Merry promised he’d bring it directly back to him after he’d entered a few notes. And Pippin had sent him a message saying that he hoped he could bring it to the dinner party.’

Pio looked from one to the other and wondered why the book was so important. She took it from Salvia’s hand and leafed through it quickly. The title page bore the words: The Tale of Years – Chronology of the Westlands. And it appeared to be the start of a detailed chronicling of the events of the Second, Third, and Fourth Ages. Pippin, Estella explained, was the primary compiler for it, and Merry had been working on putting in some material that he had gathered in Rivendell. ‘He was supposed to have brought the book with him to Bag End,’ Estella continued, ‘so that Pip could discuss the next section with him and compare their notes on it. Now I don’t know when we can get the book back to Great Smials.’

‘It is that important, then?’ Pio handed the book to Estella. ‘To them, it is,’ the Hobbit replied. ‘And I suppose it really will be, at least to some few dry and dusty historians in later ages.’

‘Well, then, if you would like, I will bring it back to Master Merry. No need for Master Pippin ever to know it was forgotten.’ Estella protested that Pio had just gotten there and hadn’t she wanted to stay a few days. ‘I did, at that, but I shall be happy to be of some service to you, should you need it.’ She smiled at Estella. ‘Just give me some lunch and see that my horse is fed and made ready, and I shall ride back to Hobbiton and bring Merry his book.

The meal done, ‘Falmar was brought round, and Pio, her pack filled with thick cheese sandwiches, apples, and a bottle of Mead from the Marish, made her way back to Bywater at a gallop.

It was late night when she arrived. She stabled ‘Falmar, and strode quickly to the kitchen. No one was about when she entered. The filled kettle had been left on the hob and the fire in the fireplace banked for the night. Pio made herself a mug of tea and pulled out the honey jar from the pantry to sweeten it. She made her way back to her rooms and entered quietly.

Her cape she flung onto the couch, her boots kicked off and left in a heap on the floor by her chair. The pack was unceremoniously tossed onto the floor by the desk. She crossed to the window and sat down with a sigh in the chair that faced it. Propping her feet on the sill, she sipped her tea, relaxing after the long ride.

The door to the room opened, and a shaft of light shot into the darkness, illuminating from behind the entering figure. ‘Ah!’ she said. ‘It’s you . . .’

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

theWhiteLady

03-18-2003, 06:23 AM

The countryside passed pleasantly by in a steady stream of comfortable chatter, and Rose found herself happily swept away by Merry’s fascinating stories of adventure and the funny tales of the quaint Shire she had missed since her departure. Somewhere near a sweet cherry tree, clad elegantly in soft pink and purest white blossoms, Merry told of the recent welcome home party for Bilbo and Frodo. Rose shrieked with laughter at her companion’s vivid imitation of the hobbit children’s food fight and their parent’s mortified reaction. Bird’s arrival in the vest pocket of the funny, silver-haired man almost brought tears to the young hobbit’s eyes; she could just see the poor man’s reaction as the disheveled Bird sprouted on top of him! Through her enjoyment of the story, however, a question nagged at the back of her mind, wondering what could be so important as to bring Bilbo and Frodo sailing back from the Blessed Realm.

Merry mentioned his own reason for traveling back into Hobbiton and Rose listened with interest, hoping maybe to pick up clues for her own journey. Her companion spoke quite enthusiastically about seeing his good friend, Pippin, again so soon and Rose could not help but allow her mind to wander as he described the antics of Peregrin’s son, Faramir. Her train of thought wandered from the Took family around to her old friend, Daisy, who had once worked in the Great Smials. A great longing awoke within Rose to see her old home and friends; it had been a long time since she had set out, and though the wild life of Greenwood always bore its adventures and joys, the comfortable and consistent land of the Shire was rooted deeply into every hobbit heart who had the luck to be born there. An order and rhythm was ingrained into her soul, and the very land, tilled into neat rows or tended carefully to form bright gardens, called out to her to remember the rich soil that had allowed her to grow.

“Ah, and we have arrived!” Merry exclaimed, breaking into her thoughts. Rose turned eagerly in her seat and saw the great inn rise up to greet her from around a bend in the road.

“Oh, I cannot wait to see Cami! How surprised she will be to see me!” Rose clapped her hands together, delighted and completely forgetting her previous thoughts. “Thank you so much for giving me a ride, your kindness had been quite wonderful.”

Merry beamed that it was “no trouble at all” and “completely his pleasure” making Rose blush as he pulled the horse to a stop before the inn.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-18-2003, 06:49 AM

As Rose mounted the familiar steps of the Green Dragon Inn, she turned and waved goodbye to Merry who was planning on heading over to Bag-end to help with the party preparations. It was Cami who looked out the window and first spotted Rose. She scurried to the door of the Inn, her heart pounding with happiness to see her daughter's much loved face.

Taking Rose's two hands in her own, Cami twirled about, until both women broke out laughing and fell into a heap.

Rose picked herself up, dusting off her skirts and immedately confronted her mother, "Can you believe this? That we're back in the Shire? What are we doing here?"

"That's a long story, Rose. I hardly know where to begin. Perhaps the easiest thing is to show you."

She prodded her gently over to a table at the rear of the Inn where a group of hobbits were sitting. Seated at the table were a mother and father with two young children, and a slightly older hobbit with silver hair and grey eyes. Rose stared, then stared again.

"You do recognize them, don't you?" Cami's eyes were laughing as she turned and pulled Rose towards Maura. The latter embraced Rose with a gentle hug and added, "Azra, lovely lady. It is so good to see you again." Zira and Ban quickly took Rose's hand and said how much she'd grown and how fine she looked. Finally, Abar came over and climbed up on her knee demanding that Auntie Azra should tell him another story.

"You remember my stories, Abar?"

When the young boy nodded yes, Rose sat back and grinned for, along with the sorrow and heartache of the camps, there had been other memories of closeness and caring. Then Abar made Rose come over to see his new baby sister.

"Guess what her name is!" the boy insisted.

"I have no idea. You'd better tell me."

"Her name is Azra. We named her after you."

Rose's eyes softened to hear this news, and she smiled gently as she took the small babe in her arms, "How pretty you are! If you're named after me, you'll have to be a great fighter. Your Auntie Rose is practically the only lass in the Shire who can wield a sword as well as the boys, maybe even better."

Zira looked over at Rose with a grin, "Well, you may have grown a little, but you're still the same Rose."

Then Cami sat Rose down at the table and explained as much as she knew about why they were there, and how she and Maura planned to wed. When her mother explained how this was only temporary, Rose pounded a fist on the table saying that it was so unfair and, if she had any say in the matter, it would certainly be permanent.

"Are my brothers her?" Rose continued.

Cami nodded yes. "They're staying out in the barn. You know how they are. And Lindo too, and several of the Snowhobbits."

"Lindo? Lindo's here?"

Cami nodded in response.

Rose smiled. "I'd like to see him again."

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

Auriel Haevasawen

03-18-2003, 11:03 AM

The filthy wretch had spent most of the morning seeking his self-chosen master. He had attained no success and gave up, as he was inclined to do with no one to guide him particularly and access to the pantry.

Old Stoat wandered into the farm cottage and hurled together a meal. Meat, bread, cheese and ale, in any order and in not the freshest of states. He picked the mould off the bread to begin with but such a delicate act bored him. He soon began to eat solidly regardless of the green fur that graced parts of the crust. He drank another draught of the bitter tasting, dark liquid: leaned back on the chair and belched loudly.

He could have done some farm work, but hard labour with no one to oversee him did not appeal that day. His head was carefully running over Bill's plan. A smile, such as it was, cracked across his dark countenance. He liked this plan. This was more his style than breaking his back in the fields.

He waited, cleaning his sharp little knife on the leg of his breeches. It was the only thing he took care of. The knife in its turn took care of him.

Birdland

03-18-2003, 11:17 AM

"Well, and it's about time you returned". Birdie sauntered into Pio's room, lifted the lid of the teapot and wrinkled her nose to find it only contained tea, and plopped herself down by the grate, stretching out her toes to the fire.

"What did you think to accomplish with your little jaunt? Hoping to hurry up the birth with a nice cross-country gallop? And leaving the rounding up of Cami's guests to Mith and I? You'd have been a better choice. After all, you've chose to live with them for all these months."

Idly, Bird pulled out the green volume from Pio's pack, and started flipping through the pages (carefully wiping her hands on her pants before doing so). "What's this?"

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

Pio's post

‘Careful with that! Or Merry and Pippin will flay your scrawny little shape-changer hide.’

Pio hoisted herself from the chair and retrieved the book from her friend’s eager hands. Reaching down into the side pocket of the pack, she drew out the bottle of Marish Mead she had wrapped in one of her shirts. Bird wrinkled her nose at the site of the creased and wadded piece of clothing, backing away from the proffered gift.

‘You know Elves always smell sweet and fresh! No need to be looking so disdainfully at it. And besides, it is clean . . . just mussed, a bit.’ She handed the bottle to Bird. ‘You will like what you find inside. I believe Mrs. Maggot made that up. Nice and hearty Marish spirits, if you catch my drift.’

Pio chuckled as Bird held up the bottle to admire the deep amber colored, thick liquid. ‘You know, we could invite Lorien down for a taste. Sort of seal the apology I made.’

She cocked her eyebrow at Bird . . .

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

‘Not a good idea, you two.’ Mithadan’s pronouncement cut short the impromptu party plans. Awakened by their discussion, he had thrown on his robe and come into the living room. He took the bottle from Bird’s hands and inspected it. ‘Looks potent!’

He smiled impishly at Bird. ‘As I recall, you knocked the poor guy flat on his back when you made your entrance to the dinner party.’ He placed the bottle back in her hands. ‘Take the bottle and go make your amends to him. Upstairs, third door on the left.’ He took her elbow and steered her gently toward the door and out it. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, late.’

Mithadan smiled and waved, then closed the door firmly behind her. He turned, and his eyes swept over Piosenniel as she stood before him in her rumpled riding clothes. His hand went up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. ‘I miss you when you are not by my side,’ he murmured.

Taking her hands in his he drew her quickly toward him, kissing her at first gently on the lips, and then with greater urgency . . .

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

mark12_30

03-18-2003, 11:24 AM

ooc: will leapfrog as needed.

That mid-morning, Gamba and Maura were seen deep in conversation for ten minutes. Gamba left with a strange mix of emotions on his face, and went to find Lindo and the braided hobbits. They went off to the barn, with one teenager always standing guard at the stall door. A heated debate ensued between thr four teenagers, with Lindo officiating.
Gamba won.

"All right, then. We'll have to recruit some other kids, and you ought to know by now that I'm not good at introducing myself."

The braided hobbits all laughed.

"So you guys are going to have to do the recruiting, " Gamba continued. "I'll run it once we're ready, but you build the team. Agreed?"

Gamba jumped as a thought was pressed into his mind. Agreed, Retya replied.

Gamba stared at him. "How'd you do that?"

"Do you want to learn?" Lindo asked.

"Mmmm... maybe, " Gamba replied. "But now, I guess I've got to go work on the shelter I broke. See you all back here tonight. Wait-- whose horse is that?" He had just heard 'Falmar snorting in her stall.

"'Falmar belongs to Piosenniel, " replied Lindo.

"Guess I get to go and see her first, " Gamba sighed, and headed back to the Inn.

He'll come around, Lindo thought. The braided hobbits all shared a smile after Gamba left, and then they went to the Inn to get directions from Frodo.

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

Piosenniel looked up as a shadow crossed the threshold. Before her stood Gamba, face flushed, head down, fists jammed deep into his pockets. He leaned against the door jamb, and crossed one foot over the other, and curled his toes. Then he pressed his fists still deeper into the pockets. Pio imagined what Cami would say about the strain on the breeches, and stifled a smile.

"Hi, Bird. Hi, Pio. Mmmm.... I'm... mmm.. really sorry I broke your house, Pio. And... Mithadan says it wasn't you that locked me in that room. Some guy named Lorien did and I should be mad at him, not you. Ummmm... and so I'm sorry for all the mean things I said. And I'm sorry I blamed you. I'm sorry."

He swiped a sleeve over his flaming face, fidgeted with his bare feet from left to right and back again, and miserably wondered whether she would reply.

Suspecting that she might not reply, he slowly began leaning his weight towards his escape route back down the hallway.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

piosenniel

03-18-2003, 05:09 PM

23 Lótessë - Day of the Party

‘Ah, an apology,’ she thought to herself, ‘and I suppose he means it to sound sincere.’

Pio rubbed the back of her neck, already irritated by the previous events of the morning. She had meant to go Angelica’s today, and Hob had let her know he had harnessed the pony to the cart for her and would bring it round. She had frowned at this, saying she meant to ride ‘Falmar. But, Hob had shrugged, and motioned toward Prim who stepped up and told her firmly there would be no more riding the horse. She had discussed it with other ladies who had been in Mistress Piosenniel’s condition and they had all agreed it was not a safe or healthy thing to be doing at this late stage.

No amount of explanation that the twins would not be born earlier would move the little tyrant, who had also squelched Pio’s plea that ‘Falmar would need exercise. ‘Your Mister said he could do that for you, and if he’s unavailable, I’m sure Miz Bird could see her way to do it.’ Prim nodded her head at Bird, who sat at the table innocently eating a slice of seedcake. Pio snorted at this image of Bird on a horse, a large horse. Prim, her hands on her hips, would not be moved from her stand on this issue.

And now she faced Gamba. She simply did not need another burr under her forbidden saddle. In the back of her mind, she could hear Mithadan’s last lecture on forgiveness – from her unfortunate incident with the Lorien. She schooled her face to some semblance of Elven serenity, and pitched her voice in a less hysterical range than her thoughts at the moment.

‘I will say this quickly, since I see you are still uncomfortable within walls. You say you are sorry. I accept it. It is Prim, the new Innkeeper with whom you will have to negotiate as to how you will replace the broken window, though I think Maura has already spoken some with her.’

She picked up the cloak she had draped over the kitchen chair and strode toward the door. Gamba reached it first, eager to be outside the confines of the Inn. Hob stood ready with the cart and held it steady as she climbed on board. ‘I should be back early in the afternoon,’ she told him. ‘I am just going to Angelica’s to see if I can entice her away from the family for a bit. I want to bring her back here to see what we need to do to get ready for the birth.’

Pio flicked the reins against Nettle’s back urging her onward. Nettle, true to her name, balked and twitched her ears in an irritated manner. ‘Falmar, standing out in the exercise area, leaned her head over the fence, and snorted at the Elf’s predicament. ‘Not a word, you great beast, or I shall harness you to this ridiculous cart!

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

The Hobbit blinked in the direct sunlight, and shaded her eyes, wondering at the figure in the cart who had shown up at her doorstep. ‘I was going to write you a note, asking you to come to the Inn.’ Pio smiled broadly at Angelica who stood in the open doorway, wiping her wet hands on her apron. ‘But it was such a glorious morning, I could not spend one more minute cooped up there.’

Pio reached down a hand and helped Angelica up to the seat beside her. ‘Are you free for a while? Can you go on a little drive with me? I thought we might ride back to the Inn and you can see what needs to be gotten done before the birth day. I should also like you to meet Mithadan, the father.’ Angelica looked nervously toward the open door. The sound of children’s voices and the rhythm of small feet running on the wooden floor could be heard coming from inside the house. ‘Will Merimac watch the children for you?’ She pointed back toward the rear seat. ‘Or would you like to bring them along with us?’

Warring thoughts played briefly in the face of the Hobbit as she looked first at Pio and the promise of a pleasant ride on a sunny day and then back again toward her doorway . . .

mark12_30

03-18-2003, 05:39 PM

Truth to tell, Lindo was relieved that he had an assignment from the wild little hobbit-lad, and his sons weren't too upset about it either. Maura was entirely focused on Cami, everyone else was very aloof, and even the horses weren't talkative. Lindo had been working on a friendship with Mithadan's horse, but he wouldn't even tell Lindo his name. And 'Falmar had given him the cold shoulder entirely.

Lindo made the same decision as his boys did; Frodo had given them directions by road, but they had all slipped into the hedges and fields, avoiding passers-by. They felt none too comfortable in this strange settlement, where everyone looked at them oddly.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 19, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ March 19, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-18-2003, 06:18 PM

Now that both Rose and Pio had returned to the Inn, Cami decided that she and Maura would take a little time for themselves. She had already mentioned to Pio that she'd be gone for a day or two, and confided to her where they would be. Then, she and Maura had spent most of that day helping in the kitchens, waiting on tables and cooking. After they'd finished cleaning up from the last lunch setting, she'd spoken to Prim and promised they'd return later in the week to help.

Cami had hoped to use the pony to take some supplies and food down to the deserted burrow beside the pond. But Pio had already gotten hold of the cart and had it off on some errand of her own. For one wild moment, Cami thought of saddling up Falmer and stuffing the supplies into a bag she could throw onto his back. But her friend would not approve, to say nothing of the real likelihood of being thrown into a ditch.

Maura was staying behind for the afternoon. Cami promised to come and get him later that evening, once she'd prepared dinner and tidied up the burrow. Cami had spent some time questioning Maura about what he planned to do that afternoon. He seemed to be keeping a secret, something that involved himself and Gamba. But, no matter how much she begged, he wouldn't tell her what was happening.

Cami called Gamba in from the barn, and asked if he could round up the boys, as she had something she needed to tell them. Gamba pulled two out of the trees where they'd been climbing, and the others from under the table in the kitchen where they were eating some treats they'd managed to beg from the Cook.

Little Maura, Ban, Asta and Roka came crowding in about the table. Cami seated herself directly between Ban and Asta, depositing a kiss on each of their curly heads.

"This is the first I've seen you. I've missed you all. This is such a big place. Back home, when you sleep outside, I just stick my head outside, and there you are. The Inn is so big and the stables too. I feel as if you're a mile away."

"I think you've met Maura." Four heads cautiously nodded yes. "And he told you what was going to happen." The four heads bobbed solemnly up and down again.

"Maura and I are going down by the pond for a little while, so we can set up housekeeping in a small burrow I've found. We'll promise to love each other in the way hobbits do when they decide to marry. Later on, after the twins are born, we'll repeat our promises again and have our friends come for a party."

"We won't be away for very long now, only two or three days at the most. But Rose is here, and she and your brother Gamba will take good care of you."

"Gamba, listen to me. If you need me for any reason, any reason at all, just have Rose come running down. She knows just where it is, and it's not far at all. And maybe if I can get things set up nicely, I'll have Maura come back and you'll all come down to the burrow, and we can have a picnic lunch near the water."

"Now, promise me you'll try and behave. The rules here are just like home. Be nice to people, mind your manners, and try to do what the older hobbits ask you." Then she gave each of them a hug, and Gamba helped her load the things into a wheelbarrow that she wanted to take down to the pond.

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

piosenniel

03-19-2003, 02:56 AM

The mid-afternoon meal was done; plates and mugs were stacked in dirty piles on the counter near the sink. Ruby had just finished scraping the last of the leavings into the pail, while Buttercup poured the hot water from the kettle into the pan in the sink. The two of them stood, heads together washing dreamily at the dishes and discussing the two ‘couples’ at the Inn.

‘Did you see Mistress Piosenniel this morning? There she was at breakfast with the Mister, and don’t you know he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She sat there like a queen bee and up he gets fetching her this and that with a great toothy grin on his face. Pleased as punch he is to have her back home.’ Ruby sighed as she washed the same mug, over and over. ‘Now that’s the sort of husband I want.’

Buttercup gave her a shove on the arm to bring her out of her reverie.

‘Well, he’s nice enough and all that, for a Man, I suppose. But I’ve been watching that Maura who's come to court Miz Cami. Now there’s the sort of Hobbit would make a fine catch for me.’ She threw her dish towel over her shoulder and leaned against the sink, arms folded. ‘Quiet, but not one to let others walk over him. Sure of himself. And sure of Miz Cami, too. You can see it in his eyes, when he looks at her. A kind man, I think.’ She turned back to the stack of washed and rinsed mugs, picking one up to dry. ‘He has the loveliest hands. Have you noticed that? Strong . . . gentle.’ She set the dried mug in the cupboard. ‘Yes, just the sort of Hobbit, I want for my husband.

Cook and Prim had been sitting at the table shelling peas, listening to the two of them prattle on. ‘Ladies!’ Prim’s voice cut through their day-dreams, freezing them in mid action. Buttercup’s brown eyes widened as she glanced at Ruby. She mouthed a silent plea. ‘Oh, please let her not want us to spend the rest of the afternoon in the dark pantry cleaning off shelves and stacking crocks and canisters neatly.’ Cook’s mouth twitched as she saw the shoulders of the two servers hunch up near their ears.

‘Pantry needs a cleaning, Prim. You’ve been promising me we could get that done.’ She glanced at the two servers who had gone quiet and still as stone trolls in sunlight.

‘Well, I guess I did at that.’ Prim looked at the backs of Ruby and Buttercup, stiff as boards, and chuckled. ‘But it’s not going to happen today, Cook. I’ve got other plans.’

The plans she laid out for them were much more agreeable to Ruby and Buttercup, as they would get them out of the Inn. Cook had put together several baskets of food that needed delivering to Miz Amaranthas for the party tonight. When Buttercup protested that Mistress Piosenniel had taken the pony and cart, Prim said she had already asked Hob to fetch out the small wagon and get back two of the ponies from Faldo.

‘Now once you’ve delivered the food to Amaranthas, and helped her put it away. You go directly to Pansy Bunce’s place. Cook’s cousin has an oversized cradle just the right size for those two babies of Mistress Piosenniel, and a stack of blankets and quilts and little baby hand-me-downs that she won’t be needing any longer. It’ll be enough to get them started.’ Prim ticked off the stops they needed to make in her head. ‘I’ve organized the ladies at the Westfarthing Grange, and you can stop by there last, for some new outfits that they’ve been sewing for the wee ones. And, most important, the good ladies have been putting together stacks of folded nappies for us.’ She frowned, thinking there was one more stop. ‘Oh, and don’t forget to stop at Gammer Nutmeg’s place. She’s made a pot of her soothing Baby Bottoms ointment that she wants to contribute.’

‘Tonight, they’ll be gone to Amaranthas’ for the party,’ said Cook, bringing out several baskets packed with food. ‘We’ll get the little bedroom cleaned up and set up for them.’

Buttercup grabbed two of the baskets and dashed for the door, hearing the clatter of the wagon’s wheel’s draw up out side the kitchen’s door. Ruby quickly repeated the list of stops to Prim’s satisfaction, eager to be out the door herself. She had just grabbed the last basket of carefully packed jam tarts when the door from the Common Room swung open and Mithadan peeked in . . .

Nurumaiel

03-19-2003, 04:00 PM

"Oh, Miss Piosenniel," said Angelica. "If there's one thing you don't want, it's my children coming with me. There'd be no point in bringing me to the Inn at all. I'd do nothing but chase the little ones." She looked back at the door as she heard a triumphant scream from Fosco. "But I do worry about Merimac taking care of all three of them... he is busy..."

"Why not leave one twin here, and take the other one?" Pio suggested. "You're husband will have less children to take care of that way, and you won't have to worry about chasing the twins around the Inn."

Angelica looked startled. "I never though of that before, Miss Piosenniel," she said thoughtfully. "But I'll have to take Prisca. Fosco can cause just as much trouble on his own."

Angelica went into the house and soon came out, holding little Prisca in her arms and trying to keep Fosco from climbing up her skirts. "Mummy, Prisca and I weren't done playing yet! Mummy, I want to go for a ride, too! Mummy, is that the Elf? Mummy, I want to hit the Elf with pudding!"

That was enough for poor Angelica, who turned bright red and, setting Prisca down next to Pio, dragged Fosco back into the house, pushed him through the front door, closed the door, and fishing a key out of her apron pocket, locked it.

Then she turned to Pio, still red, and burst out, "Oh, Miss Piosenniel, you won't mind, would you?"

Pio smiled and shook her head, so Angelica leaned against the front door and laughed and laughed and laughed. Then she climbed up onto the wagon once more, and, with little Prisca in between them, they set off for the inn.

piosenniel

03-19-2003, 05:13 PM

‘Angelica and her daughter make a pretty pair,’ thought Pio. She stole glances at them as the cart rolled slowly along. Nettle was in no hurry as he ambled down the road. He had found almost every clump of tempting grass, savory weed and flower patch on his way to Angelica’s and he intended to have a bite from each on his trip home. Pio, by this time, had given in to his stubborn temperament and let the reins lay gently on his back as he clopped along.

Prisca, delighted to be the sole object of her mother’s attention, chattered incessantly, pointing out all sorts of things interesting to her toddler eyes. A pretty tree, some rock daphne at the edge of the road – so tiny yet sending out a sweet smell, a sweet cherry tree, its fruits heavy and dark with the promise of delight. The little lass clapped her hands and giggled when Pio stopped the cart and lifted her up to snatch a chubby handful of sweet, red cherries.

At last, the cart made the turn into the Inn yard. Nettle picked up his pace a bit, sensing the stable was near. Hob was on hand to help the ladies down to the ground, and took the eager Nettle back to his stall and the longed for hay to munch.

‘Well, now, who’s this!’ Hob had returned and crouched down in front of Prisca, smiling and admiring the little one’s dress. Prisca twirled, like a little blossom in the wind, to be admired and reached up for Hob’s hand as he stood up. ‘Want to go out to the garden with me, Princess?’ said Hob, holding up a small basket. ‘I’ve got to pick some beans for dinner, and you could gather a little bouquet of flowers to give your Momma if you’ld like.’ Hob looked at Angelica, who nodded her head that it would be alright. The two went off, chatting about Prisca’s momma’s garden and admiring the ladybugs that gathered on the salvia along the path.

Pio showed Angelica into the kitchen, and offered her a cool drink after the long ride. Prim and Cook were introduced, and both of them offered to be of assistance to Angelica when the time came for her to be midwife. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Mistress Piosenniel,’ said Prim, but while you were out and Mister Mithadan was otherwise occupied, I took the liberty of cleaning out that small bedroom next to yours. I’m sure you’ll want to be using that for the nursery, and it needed a good scrubbing down. Cook and I moved the armoire out, too. You won’t be needing it for baby clothes, and it was blocking the door that leads into your own room.’

Knowing better than to object to Prim’s ideas of what needed to be done, Pio simply smiled and thanked her for being so thoughtful . . . and so thorough. She put her arm round the Innkeeper’s shoulders and gave her a little hug. ‘It’s just like having another mother . . . or two,’ she laughed, nodding in appreciation at Cook.

She ushered Angelica into her quarters and showed her around. Prim followed in their wake, wanting to hear what the midwife would have to say. ‘I’m supposing the babies will be born here,’ Pio said, indicating her and Mithadan’s bed. They poked their heads into the quite bare little bedroom adjacent. ‘And this will be the babies’ room.’

Angelica looked up, perplexed at Pio, wondering what the Elf planned to clothe or bundle the twins in, much less where she intended for them to sleep. Hopefully, she thought to herself, Prim and Cook were dealing with this need also. A quick glance at Prim showed that the Hobbit had already thought about all this, and when she gave a short nod, Angelica understood everything would be in place when the time came.

‘That is about it, Angelica. Events have been rather chaotic about the Inn of late and nothing really has gotten done to prepare for the arrival of the babies.’ Pio looked mildly chagrined by her apparent unpreparedness. ‘But, now you are here, and seen what is lacking. Just give me a list and I will see it gets done.’

Prim went to Pio’s desk and took out a piece of paper and dipped one of the numerous quills in the inkwell. She looked expectantly at Angelica . .

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

Mithadan

03-20-2003, 11:57 AM

Mithadan watched with some amusement as Piosenniel, Angelica and Prim reviewed the babies' room and assembled a list of needful things. As the discussion shifted from the sensitivity of babies' bottoms to diapering techniques, Piosenniel looked up with an impish look in her eyes and summoned him over. Someone had secured a doll and had demonstrated the intricacies of diapering to Pio. She had fumbled with the task at first but quickly learned the techniques of folding and securing the cloth. "You find this amusing?" she asked. "Your turn then, daddy."

Prim looked skeptically at Mithadan, then began giving instructions. Mithadan seized the cloth from the surprised Hobbit and rapidly folded and secured it about the bottom of the doll to the surprise of the three females. He raised an eyebrow in challenge. With barely concealed amusement, he said, "Both of my brothers have children. I've had occaision to do this many times."

The Hobbits moved away to discuss the positioning of a chair for feedings, leaving him alone with Pio for a moment. He shifted his feet uncomfortably, then spoke. "This dinner party we are to attend, I've been told that I will be the only man present." The Elf laughed. "You are likely the only Man in The Shire at present."

Mithadan glared at her, then continued. "You know what I mean. And what's this about this Hobbit who wants to meet me? The one they call 'the Dragon'? Is my attendance at his party really necessary?"

piosenniel

03-20-2003, 01:00 PM

‘You would like Amaranthas, I think. She has been a good friend to me.’ Much like the irascible Angara! No tail to trip you up or lash at you. But she is quite handy with her sturdy blackthorn cane. Pio sent him an image of wizened little Hobbit with her bright, black eyes taking his measure, and cackling.

She took him by the arm and drew him further from the baby discussions. ‘I only thought you might like to get out of the Inn. There will be people there that are my acquaintances, and I think you would be comfortable among them.’ Pio laughed and shook her head. ‘I suppose I could play the quirky expectant mother and request that you squire your poor frail wife to this social outing. But if you would be more at ease here, then stay. I can fill you in on anything of interest that occurs.’

Prim and Angelica had moved on to talk about hot water and towels and the reliability for certain teas to ease the pains. Pio sighed and said she supposed she had best be in on this. ‘If you would, can you take ‘Falmar out for a short ride – even around the area of the Inn would be good. Hob unfortunately has conspired with the others here to keep me from her.’ She rubbed her belly. ‘Sometimes I feel I will burst like some great, overripe melon. I can barely wait for them to come.’

She turned, heading back to the two Hobbits. ‘No need for you to listen to all this,’ she smiled. ‘Think about whether you would like to come tonight. The invitation stands open.’

Auriel Haevasawen

03-20-2003, 03:08 PM

He had fallen asleep, his head rested upon his arms, sprawled forth across the kitchen table. The crash of his master's entrance woke him with a sharp jolt.

"Wake up Stoatie! We've got guests!"

He rubbed a grimy hand over his bleary eyes and focused on him. He made no attempt to hide or apologise for eating the rotten remnants of his master's pantry.

"Guests gov?" He gruffly questioned while sliding one hand beneath the table to clasp the knife he had cleaned so precisely only a little while ago.

Sure enough, standing behind Bill in the cottage doorway were two strangers, every bit as silubrious as Stoatie. They were younger but that was all that could be said in their favour, if indeed youth was an advantage.

"There's nowt to eat." Stoatie observed.

"We've eaten in Bree Stoatie mate. Shall I introduce us then? This is Rob and ..., I've forgotten again..." He turned to the fairer or at least less dirty of the two men.

"Sewell." He barked. "Yer boss sez there's some work goin'." He looked around the sparce kitchen. "Times are hard aren't they matey?"

"It's them Halflings innit?" His companion chipped in.

"I reckons you could be right there, friend." Stoatie purred. "I'll get you an ale. I'm sure the gov's got a lot to tell yer about workin' for him."

[ March 20, 2003: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]

Nurumaiel

03-20-2003, 03:38 PM

Angelica leaned over and whispered in Prim's ear, her face worried. Prim gave a little nod and whispered something back, and Angelica set her jaw, turning to Pio.

"Miss Pio," she said firmly. "Miss Pio, I have something to tell you, and I might as well tell you everything." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I'm convinced that you must have a nursemaid," she blurted out. "And this is a letter from Amaranthas."

Then she stepped back, casting her eyes downward, and hoping that Pio would agree to the plan. I'll talk with her all night, but she must get Gillyflower as a nursemaid.

piosenniel

03-20-2003, 03:52 PM

Pio burst out laughing, drawing the wide-eyed stares of both Prim and Angelica. ‘I see I am hemmed in by conniving Hobbits!’ Her eyes glinted impishly. ‘Am I so fearsome that none of you can just speak plainly about things to me, that you need muster the troops to overwhelm my defenses?!’

Mithadan grinned as he ducked out the door. ‘You can be a stiff-necked obstinate Elf, my dear.’ A well aimed pillow from the chair hit him in the back as he made his escape.

Pio picked up one of the squares of white material meant for diapers, and waved it high in the air. ‘I surrender!’ she laughed. ‘If you think it best I have a nursemaid, and if Amaranthas has hand-picked her, then who am I to gainsay her?’ She looked out the window of the front room, and saw the lengthening shadows of the trees.

‘I think Prim has a long enough list for us to work on. And I need to get you and Prisca home. There is a small picnic party tonight at Amaranthas that I need to get ready for.’ She looked consideringly at Angelica. ‘You know, I have kept you over long here. You will not have time to fix supper for your husband and family. You and all should come to Miz Amaranthas’ this evening as my guests. There will be plenty of food. I saw Cook loading it into baskets today.’ She looked at Prim who confirmed her statement. ‘Think about it, and please do come.’

Prisca was retrieved from the stable, where she was happily feeding sugar lumps to herself and to Nettle. Hob harnessed the now sweetened pony, and handed the ladies up to the cart, waving them off as they set off back to Angelica’s.

Once at the door, Pio said thank-you once again for Angelica’s time and patience with her. ‘I hope to see you at the party,’ were her parting words as she flicked the reins and headed back to the Inn.

Merimac stood in the open doorway, Fosco in his arms. ‘Party, mama . . .?’

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

piosenniel

03-20-2003, 04:34 PM

‘That’s it, girls! Just set the chicken and the tater salad down in the cool room. I’ll have the older children set it out when they come. And set the water in the big pot on to boil. I’ll throw the corn in later.’ Amaranthas motioned Ruby and Buttercup over to the dish cupboard and had them set plates, mugs, silverware, and napkins out on the tables in the back yard, already draped with cloths. She directed them to set out the salt and pepper shakers, the sugar and honey for tea, and lastly to place the little vases of her own wildflowers on for a little color.

Frodo lad had already set the chairs around. And Rosie and Merry had brought over some pretty lanterns they had found in the attic of Bag End, along with long streamers of pretty cloth they tied onto the bushes and low hung branches of the trees. The lanterns she had gotten one of the taller Bywater boys to hang from thin cords strung between the trees. When it was dark she would have someone light the candles inside to provide some soft twinkly lights for the guests.

Ruby and Buttercup did their jobs quickly and efficiently, explaining to Amaranthas that they couldn’t stay long, as they had a number of other stops to make. Amaranthas shooed them with a smile and a wave off once she heard what they were doing. ‘She’s a sweet girl, but she doesn’t have a lick of sense about those babies! Thank the stars she has us to look out for her!’

Afternoon passed into evening, and Amaranthas had just finished taking off her apron when she heard a loud and enthusiastic knock at her door. She stumped along the wooden floor, cane in hand, and smiling in anticipation, threw open wide the door . . .

Child of the 7th Age

03-20-2003, 04:37 PM

Bilbo and Sam had been setting out a number of simple, hearty dishes that had been prepared earlier that day as well as untapping the barrel of ale that Prim had supplied for them. Bilbo was genuinely looking forward to an evening of conversation and wild tales, and hoped that things would be a bit more relaxed than the earlier party that had taken place in the Inn.

"It's a pity Maura can't come. I've gotten to know him while staying at the Dragon. He's not a bad sort at all. A bit quiet, but relaxed and good natured once you sit down and talk with him. But he and Cami were determined to get away and, with everything that's been hapening, I can't say I blame them."

Sam nodded, "Yes, it might have been nice, but I must say I'm looking forward to having just the five of us together, the way it used to be in old times."

"I did tried to ask Fatty," Bilbo noted, "but when he heard Cami was still in the Shire, he got a horrified look on his face, and said it would have to wait."

Sam looked over and laughed, "Hmm, whatever Cami did to chase him away seems to have worked quite well."

At that moment, a hobbit mounted the steps and tugged down on the bell chain. Bilbo quickly went over and threw open the door.

dragoneyes

03-20-2003, 05:13 PM

Pippin rushed towards Bag End, eager not to be the last one there. He also wanted to spend as much time as he could get with his friends while they were still around. At last he came onto Bagshot row, he tried to urge his pony to sprint the home strait, but only managed a fast trot. He reached the gate and tied up his pony. He noted that Merry's cart was nowhere in sight and, with a slight smile on his face, he walked up the garden path towards the rounded, green door of Bag End. He stopped to admire a particularly lovely patch of flowers but then hurried on to the door. He pulled the bell chain and almost immediately the door was flung open.

"Hello Bilbo!" said Pippin cheerfully.

"Welcome Pippin, do come in." Said Bilbo. Pippin stepped into the warmth of the hole, he took off his coat and hung it up on a peg. He turned towards the other two and greeted them in his same, cheerful manner. Soon enough voices filled the rooms of Bag End.

[ March 23, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

theWhiteLady

03-20-2003, 06:01 PM

theWhiteLady's post

Rose Goodchild spent a most pleasant afternoon playing with baby Azra and catching up with Ban and Zira. Abar interjected with interesting tidbits and often made them laugh at his silly stories. Towards the end of their conversation, Rose brought up the marriage of Cami and Maura.

“Cami has been very busy in Greenwood, what with raising the boys and helping the hobbits in every way; she is greatly respected by all and her judgment is given great regard in all matters. Still, I don’t think she is quite happy. At least, she is not joyful. Not like I’ve seen her today. I could scarcely believe my eyes when they laid on Maura and, of course, you all as well! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Cami’s eyes dance with such delight; they seemed fairly overflowing with happiness. But there is sorrow too.” Rose crinkled her nose in frustration and her forehead creased. “It isn’t fair! Poor Cami, after all she has done! I’m still not perfectly sure I understand everything, but I’m afraid she will pay dearly for this short time she has with Maura.”

Zira’s eyes filled with tears and she gave her young friend a kind hug. “I know, it’s not fair at all. But they have been given a great gift, thanks to Bilbo and Gandalf and that funny man, Lorien , I think. Maura has also been busy, but he can not hide his love for Cami, nor the pain that it has caused both of them. It is strange, and terrible, that such a strong emotion can cause so much sadness as well as joy. This meeting may indeed be bittersweet for them, but as their friends, we should try to make the sweet outweigh the bitter. Some things cannot be helped and it is not our part to change them. Perhaps it will all turn out better than we expect, however. We never know what the future might hold for any of us.”

Azra squirmed in Rose’s arms as Zira wiped away her tears and they hugged once more. Even Ban was blinking rapidly, but he tried to hide it by fussing gruffly at Abar for snatching a warm biscuit from the kitchens.

A few moments later, Pio walked in on the three of them laughing as Azra bopped Abar firmly on the nose. She hurried them off to get ready for Amaranthas’ party and a short time later, they all piled into the inn’s trusty cart.

Pio's post

The two ponies stamped their feet and tossed their manes in an indignant manner. Their evening routine had been disrupted. A nosebag of oats, a gentle brushing, and then tucked into their fresh stalls and left to the scent of sweet straw and the comfort of an old blanket - that was what they expected to happen when Hob strode into the stable. But here instead they found themselves fed quickly, then led out and harnessed to the wagon.

Rose, with Azra in her arms, and Abar were the first to come tumbling out from the Inn, excited to be going somewhere for the evening. They talked over the stories Pio had told them earlier about Amaranthas, and both agreed that she was pulling their legs with exaggerations. The two stood scratching the noses of the ponies as they waited for the adults to appear, and pelted Hob with questions. Hob only smiled when they asked if Amaranthas was as fierce as Pio said, and cautioned them that she did not tolerate ‘woolly pated fools’ well, if at all. And yes, in her younger days she had been known to lay into thick-headed Hobbits who bothered her with her sharp tongue and her heavy stick. Eyes wide, Rose and Abar looked at each other reconsidering their estimation of the Old Dragon.

Ban, Zira, and Pio were the next to come out of the Inn. ‘I’ll sit in back with Rose, Azra, and Abar,’ offered Ban. ‘You two ladies sit up on the seat.’ Hob handed up Zira, and then Pio to the driver’s seat. ‘You sure now you don’t want me to drive?’ he offered, as Pio took the reins.

‘That won’t be necessary. I’ll take the reins.’

Pio grinned and held out a hand to Mithadan, to steady him as he clambered up to the seat. He gave her a wink as he settled in and took the reins from her, ‘I decided I didn’t want to spend the evening looking at the walls of the common room. Besides,’ he looked back at Ban, nodding to him, ‘I couldn’t leave Ban to be the only male at the party!’

‘Whatever the reason,’ murmured Pio as they headed down the lane, ‘I am delighted you will be with me.’

theWhiteLady's post

Pio, with a mischievous glint in her eye, entertained them all with frightening tales of their host; tales which the listeners only half believed. The bright garden surrounding Amaranthas’ home certainly did not look anything like the lair of the Dragon Pio described and Rose mounted the steps, still holding Azra, and knocked confidently on the door.

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

Child of the 7th Age

03-20-2003, 06:52 PM

As twilight fell over Bag-end, Bilbo urged Pippin to join him near the fire, pulling out a pouch of pipeweed. Once they had each taken a handful, Pippin passed it on to Frodo and Sam so they could share some and tamp it into their pipes. Soon the air was filled with great smokerings, floating in all directions, as the dinner guests tried to outdo each other with the size and elaborateness of their creations. There was a great deal of laughing and friendly competition as smokering after smokering floated by.

"Good job, Frodo!" Bilbo watched a particularly impressive ring take flight and slip out an open window into the cool evening air of the Shire.

"We're still missing Merry," Frodo observed.

"I know he's reached Bywater," Sam added, "but I think he stopped first in the market. He should be here shortly."

There were a good number of questions the hobbits from the Shire wanted to ask Bilbo and Frodo, but had been reluctant to do so in the noise and bussle of the Inn. Here, in the cozy warmth of Bag-end, questions spilled out more naturally.

Pippin began by asking Bilbo, "Do you have pipeweed in the West?"

"Yes, fortunately. Gandalf is alway bringing over some. I've no idea where he gets it, but it probably grows there somewhere. It seems that most things do."

"Gandalf?" Sam's eyes lit up with memories of a kindly wizard from whom he'd learned a great deal. "You see Gandalf?"

Bilbo nodded, "He visits quite often. He comes over to Tol Eressea from Nienna's household. It does my old bones good to see his face and hear his voice. He's been a good friend. Once he learned Frodo and I were to journey here, he made us promise we'd bring greetings, and say how much he missed the folk in the Shire."

"Aye, we miss him too," Pippin responded.

Then Sam asked, "Is Tol Eressea home, Bilbo? Or is home still in the Shire?"

Bilbo leaned back in his chair and sighed. "That's hard to say. A little of one and a little of the other, and even a little of Rivendell. You forget, but I was there seventeen years."

"I miss the people in the Shire, and all the gossip, and the goings on. But there are things I love about the West. I can get books, and hear tales about the Elves. It's even more special than Rivendell with all the songs and ballads and things to learn. My Sindarin has improved, and I've even picked up some Quenyan. Frodo keeps nudging me to try osanwe, and I can do it in a pinch, but it still doesn't feel right."

As Bilbo talked, Frodo softly tugged on Sam's arm and led him outside. "I wanted to talk with you, Sam. It's important."

"Remember how, when I left, I said you must live a long time in the Shire and feel as if you weren't torn in two different directions? I hoped that would happen, and I think it has. Your life is full and rich with your wife and children and all the doings in the Shire. But, in the evening, when it's peaceful and quiet, does a tiny piece of you ever hear the sound of the Sea in your head and wonder if someday you'll see it yourself?"

Frodo hesitated, then went on with the real question he'd wanted to ask, ever since coming to the Shire. Without realizing what he was doing, Frodo felt his thoughts reach out towards his friend. I have missed you terribly. Even with all the beauty of the West, there's still a piece missing. I guess if I'm truthful with myself I want to know and believe that you and Rose are happy and content, but that a little part of you still misses me and wishes we could be together. Frodo looked up startled. He had not meant for that to happen, but now that it had, he almost felt relieved.

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

Orual

03-20-2003, 07:56 PM

The party had been going nicely, much to Sam's relief and satisfaction. It was nice to be among his friends again, the friends that he had shared so much with. And, though he wouldn't admit it even to himself, the best part was that he was pulling it all off without Rose.

Sam, Pippin, Bilbo, and Frodo were all there, reminiscing and finally talking about Tol Eressea instead of the Shire. Sam finally felt comfortable enough to ask questions about it. While Bilbo was answering one of them, Frodo slipped behind Sam and, tugging on Sam's arm, brought him outside, saying, "I wanted to talk with you, Sam. It's important."

"Sure, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, a little puzzled. What was going on? "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Frodo shook his head. They stood outside for a moment, in the night air. It was a cool night, calm, with just a little bit of a breeze. The stars shone brightly overhead, and there were hardly any clouds to obscure them, or the brilliant moon. Then Frodo began to speak, asking a question that Sam had thought about many times over the past twelve years. "...does a tiny piece of you ever hear the sound of the Sea in your head and wonder if someday you'll see it yourself?" Frodo finished.

Sam was silent for a long moment. It wasn't an easy question. He loved his life in the Shire, with Rose and the children. He loved being the mayor, with all of the duties and responsibilities that the title carried. He loved living in Hobbiton, in Bag End, reading and watching his children grow. But sometimes he would go out with the boys--and the girls, if they wished--and they would camp, and sometimes, when the went out far enough, Sam could hear the whisper of the sea in the air. Just a whisper, and when he paid too much mind to it he couldn't hear it anymore, so that he wondered if he'd ever truly heard it at all. But if he heard it, he'd hardly be able to sleep, thinking about the sea. He'd only seen it once, but he still saw it in his dreams at night.

He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off when he heard, not with his ears, but with his mind, I have missed you terribly. Even with all the beauty of the West, there's still a piece missing. I guess if I'm truthful with myself I want to know and believe that you and Rose are happy and content, but that a little part of you still misses me and wishes we could be together.

Sam stood still for a moment, as the breeze passed over him. Was this the same speech that Galadriel had used in Lothlórien, all those years ago? Frodo was speaking to his mind, as Galadriel had done? He saw Frodo look up, seeming surprised, and he smiled a little. It hadn't been intentional, and now Frodo was waiting for Sam's reaction, which had been negative in Lothlórien. But not so this time.

"I do wish that, Mr. Frodo," Sam finally replied. "All the time. And though I would wish that you were perfectly happy in the West, I have to admit that I'm glad to hear that you missed me, because I missed you. The children will tell you that most of the stories I tell are about you. And I am happy here in the Shire, with Rose and the children, but I do get that aching that you were talking about, for the sea. But it isn't really for the sea, Mr. Frodo. It's for the West, and to see you again. And it makes me feel better that you feel the same way."

[ March 23, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

Child of the 7th Age

03-21-2003, 01:09 AM

Dishes, food, and clothes were scattered haphazardly about the burrow as Maura and Cami finished their supper and gazed out the window that stood facing the pool. A full moon beamed down on the pond and the surrounding foliage, outlining the small burrow that Cami had chosen to be their own.

Everything was peacefully quiet. The only sounds heard were a few frogs croaking their nightime melodies and a lonely neekerbreeker weaving its counterpoint into the song. Cami wondered if the neekerbreeker could possibly be Bird, but thought it unlikely.

She knew that only a few guests were left at the Inn. Most had departed for Bag-end or to the dinner party that Amaranthas was giving. Last minute invitations had even been found for Zira and her family, and Cami's daughter Rose who had recenty arrived in the Shire.

Maura extended his hand to Cami and gently guided her to the simple pallet that lay on the floor in front of the hearth. The two snuggled close, their hands clasped together, tickling one another with their toes.

"I love you, Cami Goodchild," Maura whispered softly into her ear, as Cami reached up and slipped her arms comfortably about his shoulders. The two hobbits nestled close, with Cami's small heart thumping wildly. For a very long time, neither of them moved, afraid to break the spell of intimacy and moonlight that seemed to be flooding into the burrow.

Cami stared intently at this hobbit whom she cherished more than any other in the world, and then asked, "Do you know the words to say?"

"Yes, don't worry. We recite the promises in the morning, as the sun rises."

"Your own parents did this?"

Maura laughed, "Yes, and every other hobbit in Beleriand. Enough talking, Cami." He reached out eagerly towards her soft form and drew her ever closer, their arms and legs intertwined. Then, with no prior warning, Cami suddenly pulled back to her side of the mat and sat straight up, with a puzzled expression spilling over her face.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Shh! Listen." She reached out and tugged Maura into a sitting position, placing her hand on his knee and cautioning him to remain silent.

For half a minute, nothing happened. Then a series of caterwauls split the air, loud and insistent wails. Instantaneously, Maura's eyes met Cami's, the two hobbits' jaws dropping open as they shoved open the door and rushed out of the burrow in the direction of the crying. Lying in the water, directly before them, was a large wicker basket, such as a Stoor might use to float a young child in a tranquil pond.

"By the One, what is this?" Maura intoned in disbelief.

"A little one," Cami chirped in.

"That I can see." Maua looked puzzled as he pushed through the reeds at the edge of the pond, intending to retrieve the small boat and its occupant. He drew the large wicker basket out of the waters and handed it directly to his wife.

Cami lifted up the coverlet, and took a peek inside, "It's a girl. A Stoor, I think. About two-years old. Perhaps she's lost her mother. We'd best run to Bag-end and tell Sam to find her parents."

"I don't think so. Look at her clothes." Maura took the young lass into his arms to look at her more closely. She was still howling miserably. He leaned over and let his mind float and merge with hers, searching through the images that the child had seen. He cradled the toddler in his arms, pressed his lips to her brown curls, and placed her back on Cami's lap.

The two hobbits were talking loudly to make themselves heard above the child's ever growing racket. "I can't be sure of everything. But she's from Greenwood. Someone placed her outside your door. Then Lorien's dream pulled her here wth us."

"But who did that? Who brought her to me? And why?" Cami countered.

Maura shook his head as he looked down into the child's small face, "I'm not sure. But I can guess why. They wanted someone with a soft heart to take her in." Maura hesitated a moment, then continued. "This place where you live, are there Orcs?"

"Orcs? No!" Cami shuddered slightly. "I haven't seen an Orc since I left Beleriand." Maura said nothing but wondered, since he'd had a clear glimpse in the child's mind of her mother and father hewn down by great Orc blades.

The hobbits took turns walking with the young lass, improvising a sling made with some cloth torn from Cami's petticoat. It was over an hour later when the little one finally fell asleep, after a whole string of hobbit and Elvish lullabyes and three cups of milk that had been left over from supper. After tucking the lass into the basket, Cami tugged insistently at Maura's arm. They made their way back to the pallet, intending to take up where they'd last left off. Maura clasped his arms gently about Cami, as she gradually relaxed and moved in closer. Then suddenly, from nowhere, another loud and even more discordant noise began to grate against their ears.

A look of horror flashed over Maura's face as he put his hand on his brow and sat up groaning, "Oh, dear! Cami, I forgot to tell you."

piosenniel

03-21-2003, 01:10 AM

"Oh, dear! Cami, I forgot to tell you." The words brought some small comfort as Cami tried to imagine what was going on. ‘Well, if Maura knew about this, it can’t be burglars or ruffians!’

Cami and Maura rushed to the window of their snug hole and looked out into the darkness. A large group of figures was moving toward them. Torches and lanterns were held high in the hands of some, and many were banging on pots and pans with metal spoons. Sheep bells were clanging. Horns were blaring, as several old campaigners from the Great War had been enlisted by Bird to add their noise to the general clamor. A number of the patrons at the Inn who were fond of Mistress Piosenniel’s friend had also joined the shivaree, bringing several bottles of wine and mead to be shared by all once they reached their target.

It was Lindo and his group on one flank and Gamba with his brothers on the other who led the way, grins wreathing their faces. They brought the group to stand round the Bywater Pool residence and increased the noisy tumult.

Bird had scrounged about and found the makings of two fine fireworks. ‘Nothing as good as Ancalimon’s,’ she had muttered to herself as she put them together. ‘But they’ll have to do.’

Cries of ‘Bring out the bride!’ and ‘Show us the newly hitched couple’ rang out, and several of the merry makers pounded on the door with the chant. The group stepped back as the door slowly opened, and out walked Maura leading Cami by the hand. A great cry of celebration rose up amidst the clatter of pots and pans and the blaring of horns, and Bird shot up her fireworks in a great blaze of reds and blues and yellows and greens.

Bird raised her hands in a prearranged signal, and the contingents from Tol Fuin and Greenwood brought out a great, sturdy blanket onto which the couple was tumbled by others of the crowd and tossed up into the air several times, to the great cheers of those watching. They were set gently down, and Bird stepped forward, quieting the crowd with her hands.

‘Pio wanted to be here, but couldn’t. So she’s sent me to sing this song to you.’ Bird cleared her throat, letting her lovely voice rise up:

Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves,
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Ulmo obey
Over rocks which are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

Where there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie,
Where there is no space
For receipt of a fly,
Where the gnat dares not venture,
Lest herself fast she lay,
But if Love comes, he’ll enter,
And will find out the way.

O! you may esteem him
A child for his might,
Or you may then deem him
A coward in flight.
But if she, whom Love honors,
Be concealed from the day
Set a thousand guards on her,
Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him
And keep him confined
Some do suppose him,
Poor thing, to be blind;
But if e'er so close ye wall him,
Do the best that you may,
Blind Love, so ye call him,
Will find out his way.

You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist.
You may try to inveigle
The Phoenix of the east.
The lioness, you may move her
To give o'er her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover;
He will find out his way.

Once done, she grinned at the calf-eyed couple, and prodded Maura with her hand. ‘Have the Missus bring out cups and mugs. We’ve brought the drink to share. And all this singing and hootin’ and hollerin’ has parched old Birdie’s throat!’

They cry went up for drinks and soon the cups and mugs were passed round and the couple toasted. Someone started up an old song as Maura and Cami were encircled and congratulated by one and all.

Ho ro my nut-brown maiden,
Hee ree my nut-brown maiden,
Ho ro ro maiden,
For she's the maid for me

Her eye so mildly beaming,
Her look so frank and free,
In waking or in dreaming,
Is evermore with me. . .

Cami and Maura, eyes gleaming and fixed on their well wishers, did not see the small group of young ones who slipped in the door to the hole. They hid the couple’s few belongings, switched sugar and salt in their containers, tied knots in clothes, and put some tiny stick babies between the sheets of the bed. Bird was with them to make sure they did their quota of mischief to the new couple.

She was just peeking into a basket with a blanket in it, when she saw the blanket move, and a great caterwauling sound came forth from the depths. Bird picked the wiggling Hobbit child up and held it at arms length. Out the door of the hole she walked, carrying the screeching little one. Her eyes were glinting merrily and a grin split her face as she held the red-faced child out to Cami.

‘A kid, already?!’ she laughed gleefully . . .

[ March 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]