[piosenniel]

Once back at the ship, Pio washed the sooty grease from her face and arms as best she could. She put on the breeches she had found, though they were too large for her, wrapping her belt twice around her waist tightly to keep them up. She gave her blades a cursory cleaning and secured them at her waist. The undershirt replaced her bloodied one. Over it she put her tunic from the skiff. Into her belt she tucked her cloak, still folded small. Her arm ached where the sword had cut her. She rubbed it for a moment, then put the pain from her mind.

The Hobbits sat on deck while the ship went upriver. Pio had let them know that it had been a grim scene below, and that she doubted Mithadan had been able to clear all evidence of the struggles away. Cami, especially had an acute sense of smell, and the metallic tang of old blood would sicken her senses. She was glad to be up where the fresh night breezes were the only scents she need encounter.

Mithadan was at the helm. He had at least scrubbed the blood from his face and arms, but he could find no clothing to fit him, and his blood spattered outfit gave him a grim look. He was in a strange mood, more reserved, distant. Pio left him to his thoughts, and kept watch from the bow.

When they had reached a point about half a mile from the caverns, they docked the ship along the bank, and disembarked. The arms brought from the Star were secured to one of the air bladders; Cami and Rose held tight to the other one as the Elf and Man pulled them up the river to the river tunnel.

Bird, now in her human form, had been waiting for their arrival and when Levanto had come to say they would be there soon, she had gone to get Loremaster. The three of them had helped pull the Hobbits and the weapons from the water.

When at last all of them stood on the path along the water, Pio stepped forward and greeted Loremaster. She brought forward Cami and Rose, introducing them to him as Nitir and Azra. He smiled delightedly at these legendary figures from his past returned beyond hope to them, and greeted them warmly. The Elf watched her friends fondly, feeling both glad and saddened, at the same time. It was as if she watched them fall into an old, and comfortable place from which they had never really left, a place where they belonged. She was glad for them, and even envied them this place of belonging. Yet, sadness, too, tinged those glad feelings, knowing that they had already stepped away from her.

A sense of acute aloneness struck her for one brief moment like a sharp blow, and she almost gasped with the pain of it. Then she put it away, also, as she had done earlier with her painful shoulder, carefully masking what she felt, her face blank of emotion.

Loremaster stood looking at her curiously, Nitir and Azra beside him. ‘Ah!’ she said, recovering herself. ‘Where are my manners!’ She brought Mithadan forward, and introduced him to Loremaster. They greeted each other in a cordial manner, Loremaster taking the measure of him with a few questions simply asked. He seemed pleased with the answers that Mithadan gave him, and pleased that Nitir and Azra seemed to put so much trust in him, as they chimed in to tell the Elder Hobbit of the things the Man had done to aid them.

Another Elder had come out to where the group was gathered, and bade them hurry to the meeting. It was not safe to be standing out here for so long a time. Loremaster turned and started to lead them down the tunnel toward the meeting place. Pio put her hand on Mithadan’s arm and whispered that she would meet him back on the ship. There was something she needed to do. She stepped back from the group, pulling Bird with her.

‘Are you not going to the meeting, Pio’ she asked. The Elf shook her head. ‘No need for me to be there, they’ve already heard from me once. Loremaster can introduce Rose and Cami to the group. And it seems he’s got a fair enough opinion of Mithadan, to present him well enough to the other Hobbits. I had something else in mind – something I thought you might help me with.’ She took her cloak from her belt and put it about her, pulling up the hood to cover her head.

‘Yes?!’ Bird asked, arching her brows. The Elf strode along, her face obscured within the folds of the hood, keeping to the shadows. She was making her way alongside the perimeter path, heading in a northerly direction about the prison from its western boundaries.

‘The Locks, Bird. I need to see the Locks this time. The Hobbits . . . and the Men. Can you get me there?’

[ October 23, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]