[Birdland]

(O.O.C. - Figured it was getting time to send you all on your way. But if anyone wants to post any more "party" threads. go ahead, and I can move this farther down.)

The sun rose over the remains of the Mid-Year’s party. The Hobbits rose somewhat later. Most of the celebrants had stayed around and were making a half-hearted effort to clean up the fields and stow away the tables and tents for next year. The ashes of the bonfires were gathered to be saved for next spring. They would be used to bless the fields and ensure good crops. But everyone was really awaiting the moment of departure.

The 24 Messengers were making last-minute preparations to depart. Packs and girths were being checked one last time. Mothers had wrapped up parcels of food and were pushing it on their sons “for later” - and trying not to weep. Fathers were giving last minute advise and bestowing precious family tokens - and also trying not to weep.

Marcho and Blanco rode up on their white ponies, and viewed the gathering of riders before them. The 24 looked up expectantly. Their journey was about to begin.

“My Sons,“ said Marcho. “The preparations are complete, the farewells have been said. It is time for you to go out into Middle Earth, and fulfill your mission with valor and wisdom.” Marcho gazed upon the Hobbits he had chosen. They were a mixed lot, but he had every faith that his choices had been the right ones. There was good old Barocas, almost dwarfing his pony, as well as his traveling companion, Dinodas. He swayed in the saddle and squinted blearily in the morning sun, hardly seeming to be the most upstanding representative for the Shire Folk. But Marcho knew that Barocas would never quit, never fail to carry out the duty that had been entrusted to him. And his traveling companion, Dinodas, though young, would offer the level-headed “Hobbit sense” that Barocas was sometimes lacking. Marcho knew they would make a good team.

Ardo had teamed up with the fostering, Pippin, who had come to the Shire on his own some five years ago, and made a home for himself, without the support of kin or friends. To Marcho, Pippin represented all the Hobbits wandering the lands of Middle Earth who could most benefit from having a homeland. Marcho hoped that the older Adro, a fine upstanding Hobbit, and one of the first to take a family surname - Baggins - would act as a father to young Pippin. No Hobbit should be without a family, and it was Marcho's secret hope that Ardo might eventually adopt Pippin.

“I can offer you no more advise. The direction you take after leaving the Shire I leave to you, for you may find Hobbits where ever you ride in Middle Earth. And where ever you ride, you will spread the word of our country, the Shire, and the promise of a land that will be home to them all.

“I saw some Hobbits in Bree, Marcho! Shall I fetch them back?” The crowd laughed as Barocas raised his hand in acknowledgement of his audience. Marcho laughed, though Dinodas shook his head in exasperation. “No, good Barocas. I think the Bree Folk can find their way here, if they so choose. I‘m afraid your search must range farther afield. Perhaps even into parts of the world where no taverns exist.”

“No such place, Marcho“, muttered Barocas.

"You shall see. Hobbits, mount up!“ 24 riders leapt to their ponies. “And may the blessings of us all go with you.!” The band struck up “The Banks of Brandywine“, a song that had recently been written , and would become a tune remembered by all future generations. The crowd sang the sprightly tune as the riders set out on their quest.

One morning very early,
In the pleasant month of May
As I walked out to take the air,
All nature being gay;
The moon had not yet veiled her face,
But through the trees did shine
As I wandered forth to take the air
On the banks of Brandywine.

Lobelia, the proprietoress of the recently built “Golden Perch”, nudged her husband, Oto, in the ribs and gestured rudely with her chin at the departing Hobbits. “There they go, off to round up a passel of queer, outlandish Hobbits and bring them back here to crowd out us decent folk. No telling what kind of savages they’ll find out there.”

“Now, ’Belia, there’s plenty of room for all here, and the Shire could do with some fresh blood. Maybe one of them Messengers will bring back a potential husband for our own dear Jonquil. She’s 36, after all, and no prospects yet.”

“Well, if that Mad Marcho wouldn’t send off half the eligible bachelors into the Wilderness, she might have been joined by now. And you know that our business is going to some hurt by the loss. Why, ’ol Barocas there was good for at least 12 silver pennies a month.”

“Hmmmph! ‘Brothers and Sisters‘. More likely 'Trouble and Strife', if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t my dear. But you’ll have your say anyway. Now wave. There go our former customers, disappearing over the hill.“

[ August 30, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]