[piosenniel]

‘Here,’ said Prisca, handing Madoc her purple and yellow knit scarf. ‘You’ll need this for your journey.’ He grinned at her and stuffed it in the front pocket of his pack. ‘I’d say you should keep it to keep yourself warm, Prissy – but I know you’ve always hated that scarf.’ Prisca reached over and tucked in the knit gloves that went along with the scarf. ‘I’m sure Aunt Lobelia is quite colorblind! I know she means well, but really, who wants to wear those colors! It looks like a giant bruise when you put it on.’

Madoc’s Mother, Pearl, came over wagging her finger at her two children. ‘Now you two, she did mean well. And it will keep you quite warm, Madoc. That wool came from her own sheep.’ Prisca and Madoc knew well enough when not to argue with their mother. The subject of her sister and her sheep was a sore one. Lobelia having had to use her ‘woolly dears’ as she called them for food. Instead they just said, ‘Yes, Mother,’ then raised their brows at one another as she turned away to fetch him a small packet of dried fruits and one of dried vegetables. ‘Be good for those stews you like to make, son,’ she said, folding the crinkly pieces of parchment round them. ‘That is, if you can bring down any squirrels or birds for a little meat to go with them. You did bring some of your snares didn’t you?’

At last the packing was done – warm clothes, what food stuffs they could spare for him, and a few pans for cooking. He put his pack on his bed and drew on his cloak, giving them both a hug. ‘I’m just going off to meet the others, then I’ll be back to pick up my pack before I go.’ He gave them each a kiss on the cheek and strode off toward the place where the others were gathering. The snow had eased up just a little today, and it was clear enough to have a good view of the countryside as he strode down the road toward Tom Bracegirdle’s house.

He could hear the music as he approached. It was nice he thought. The tunes lifted his spirit. Madoc walked up to the door and stood under the protection of the small porch overhang. He shook the snow from his cloak and stamped the packed snow from his feet. With a gentle push, he opened the door and walked in. Warmth and light and the delicious smell of food hit him all at once. And there on the other side of the room was his cousin, Gorbadic. And over there was the pretty Melody with Tom.

One of the Hobbits handed him a mug of hot tea, pointing to the pegs along side the door where he could hang his cloak. He did so, then walked about the room, greeting friends as he went . . .