[Child of the 7th Age]

A hobbit woman staggered through the doorway, clutching her side and shoulder in obvious pain. With difficulty, she struggled to the bar, trying to maintain a modicum of poise, but nearly colliding with three Elves near the blazing hearth. They stared back with evident disdain, thinking she had taken in too many flagons of ale.

The hobbit moaned as her feet gave way and weakness overcame her. She made one last attempt to maintain an upright stance, flinging out her arms towards the nearest Mannish cloak in hopes of grabbing on for support. Alas, her efforts were in vain. With a terrible rip, the cloak gave way. The woman slid awkwardly to the floor, landing in a crumpled heap beside the table of Dark Shadow and Anuion.

Almost immediately, Piosenniel jumped up from her seat with the Dwarf, the Woman, and the again faint Elf. Glimpsing the tiny hobbit collapsed on the floor, she set down her dup of tea and, with the speed and agility common to her race, sped over to the fainting figure and lifted up her hand.

Pio could hear the woman mutter, "The pain, the pain, I am in distress...."

The Elf raised her eyebrows and replied in a stern motherly voice, "Camelia Brockhouse Goodchild, what have you done? I let you out of my sight one minute to visit kin in Minas Tirith, the greatest city of the realm, and you come back in terrible shape."

"That I have," muttered Cami through clenched teeth.

"What is wrong? Tell me. I am a healer and perhaps I may aid you."

"I fear nothing can aid me but the passage of time, or so I have been told." The small hobbit sighed, "My ribs are cracked. I tried to see an Elvish healer, but none were available in Minas Tirith, and Aragorn was gone from the city as well. I had the misfortune to visit the House of Healing and come under the care of one with only minimal skills in Mannish lore."

Cami lowered her voice, "Let me warn you that the healers of the big folk are not all they are reputed to be. I'm lucky to be alive, since I waited many hours before seeing the healer. There were many who needed to be treated first with wounds more grievous than mine, probably caused by brigands or some misfortune of war."

Piosenniel looked over to her friend with concern, "Did this Mannish healer offer you any rememdies?"

"He tried. I was given herbs. These are of some use in dulling pain, but as I am but a small hobbit, they put me to sleep or upset my stomach."

Piosenniel countered, "But how did you manage to come by this grievous injury?" When you departed from the Inn, you were in excellent health. Did you encounter a warg on the road, or perhaps a band of Orcs? Perhaps you had too many cups of mead?"

Cami fidgeted nervously and stared at her furry toes. She shook her head no, but seemed reluctant to explain further.

"Come now, little hobbit, how did these injuries occur?" The Elf repeated her question.

Cami leaned over and whispered in Pio's ear so no one else could hear. "I ate a very large dinner, as is the custom of hobbits visiting their kin, and then toppled down a stairwell. My own smial is all on one level as a hobbit dwelling should be, and does not have these things called "stairs", so perhaps I was a bit careless."

"No swords, or dragons, or wargs....only a little staircase?"

Cami looked a bit sheepish and shook her head yes.

"Well, then, sit down by the fire. I can see you will not be fit to tote trays for some time. You will rest a day or two, and then earn your keep by playing the flute."

Pio shook her head. What would Dwarin think on his return? Between grievous injuries to arms and ribs and the dark faces of some of the visitors, the place was beginning to look more like a healing house for the wayward souls of Middle-earth than a mirthful place for happy hobbits......

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