[Child of the 7th Age]

Himaran's post:

Frodo-lad crept quietly up to where his mother and the Elf were sitting and sat down between them on the grass, hoping that Pio might look his way. Unfortunately, it was Rose that saw him first. "Frodo-lad, why can't you just run along and play? Miss Pio is very busy, and I'm sure you can talk to her later."

The kind elf, however, upon turning and seeing the hobbit boy, merely smiled and patted her knee. Happily, Frodo-lad scrambled up onto it, a wide grin from ear to ear plastered on his small face. "Now, good hobbit, what can I do for you?"

After thinking hard, Frodo-lad decided to take full advantage of the elf's open question. "Miss Pio, could you tell me one of those old stories. The ones with elves, and dragons, and orcs?"

Pio’s post:

Pio smiled, and tousled the Hobbit’s thick head of brown curls. She handed the twins, one each to Elanor and Rosie, who sat by her side, then drew Frodo-lad closer on her lap.

‘An old story, eh?’ She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her eyes growing dark with memories. Her voice dropped low as she spoke.

‘There once was a great city of the Eldar in the First Age of this world. City of the Seven Names, it was called by others. But to we who loved it, it was Ondolindë, the Rock of the Music of Water.

Blessed by the Vala Ulmo and guarded by the fierce Eagles of the Encircling Mountains who protected it from the spies of Morgoth, it lay hidden in the valley of Tumladen in Beleriand. It was said that the beauty of this Elven city rivaled that of Tírion in Eldamar, in the West, far over the Great Sea.

Turgon was its King, and it was he whom Ulmo directed to prepare a secret kingdom hidden in Tumladen. Turgon was one of the Noldor, and as such he fell under their Doom . . .’

Frodo-lad’s eyes had gone wide at this talk of the secret kingdoms, the Eldar, and a Doom laid on them. Elanor and Rosie had scooted in nearer to the side of Pio’s chair, leaning in closer, so as not to miss a word.

‘She talks like she was there,’ whispered Rosie to her sister. ‘Hush, Rosie. Let her go on,’ returned Elanor. Frodo-lad said nothing, his eyes on Pio’s face, he nodded, urging her to continue.

Pio drew a picture with her words of the city and its surrounds. The Encircling Mountains, the Eagle’s aerie, the Hidden Way with its seven gates, the beauty of the city of white stone as it stood on Amon Gwareth in the center of the valley came to life before their eyes. And most of all she drew for them the beauty of the great fountains whose waters sang for them as they ran over the rocks, and which protected the city as their waters fell over the sides of the hill, making the ascent slippery as glass.

She spoke of the evil of Morgoth and how he found the hidden city. And how he sent his troops to overwhelm it. ‘There were Orcs, thousands of Orcs,’ she told them, ‘and Balrogs with their whips of flame, which drove them on.’ She looked closely at each Hobbit child, her head nodding. ‘And there were Dragons,’ she said speaking more quietly than before, ‘great dragons, and we could not stand against this Shadowed host.’

Pio stopped for a moment , taking a sip of her cool tea to refresh her throat, gone dry from speaking and from the sadness of those days. Finished she set the glass down and went on.

She spoke of the great battle the Elves put up against the forces of Morgoth, and how the great champion, Ecthelion, the captain of Gondolin and warden of the Gate, slew Gothmog, the Lord of the Balrogs even as he was slain in this fight. ‘King Turgon, too, was slain,’ she told them, ‘as he defended his Tower. He was the last of the House of Finwë to rule in Middle-earth.’

And she spoke of the Lady Idril, the King’s daughter, and her husband, Tuor, a Man. And how Idril had made a Secret Way of escape and they brought a small number of the Elves of Gondolin to safety just at the last as the city fell. And she spoke with great fondness of their son, Eärendil, who was only a small boy when all this happened.

‘Younger than you three,’ she said. ‘About the age of Merry-lad and little Pippin.’

‘And did they all get to safety?’ asked Rosie. ‘Where did they go?’ Elanor looked at her, her brow wrinkling in thought. ‘Eärendil? That’s the name of the evening star, isn’t it?’ Frodo-lad sat quietly taking in all he had heard, having gotten all he had asked for and more.

‘That’s such a sad story, Miz Pio,’ said Rosie, patting the Elf’s knee as she rocked the little boy carefully.

Pio shook off the feelings that had come up with the telling of this story, and grinned at the three children. ‘But you know, that was a very old tale, and now it is over and done with. And here we are on this bright sunny day in the Shire.’ She poked Frodo-lad playfully in his ribs, causing him to loose his serious and dignified look as he giggled.

‘You turn,’ she laughed, challenging him with an impish look. ‘Now you tell me a story. Something that happened in your life, my dear Hobbit. Something fun!’

‘Go on!’ urged Rosie, ‘tell her . . .’

Himaran's post:

For a moment, Frodo-lad was in pure shock. Had Miss Pio actually asked him to tell her a story?" His disbelief soon turned into fear. What story would he tell? Suppose she didn't like the story?

Frodo-lad was terrified at the thought of his idol not being pleased with something he did. But, encouraged by his siblings, he knew he would at least have to try. "Why, sure Miss Pio! I'll tell you a story. What sort of one do you want to hear?"

"Well, how about a short little story about hobbits. You know, a fun and humorous one, and peaceful at that. Something that will make us all laugh."
The little hobbit thought hard, and soon remembered a hilarious event that his father had told the family over dinner one night. "Alright, here's my story."

"You see, my dad used to be Mr. Frodo's gardener. He would always cut down the grass in the yard and right next to the wall. One day, when Mr. Frodo was gone, dad was working in the garden, and saw that he'd left something inside that he needed.

Now Mr. Frodo had given him the key to Bag End. And when dad went over to the door, he couldn't find the key in his pants. He had left it inside the hole.

Then Dad went over to one of the windows, and tried to crawl through. But halfway in, he got stuck. His arms and legs were still outside, but the other part of him was inside. He started kicking and squirming, and shouting too. But his head was inside Bag End, and so no one heard him.

Then his Gaffer, my Grandad, saw him from the road. He thought that it was a burglar, because all he could see was Dad's legs. So he took his stick and gave Dad a good beating in the backside before he realized whom it was he was smacking."

Pio's post

Frodo was quite enjoying his telling of the family tale, and he was pleased the Pio thought it so funny. She laughed at the picture he drew of Sam caught in the window, and the Gaffer’s sound thwacking of him. Rosie’s mouth, however, had formed into a little ‘O’ of surprise, and she looked guiltily up at him, then pointed to a place over his shoulder. Frodo turned, a look of surprise coming over his face as he saw who now stood behind him.

Sam stood there, shaking his head, a look of mock sternness on his face.

Pio laughed again, and put her arm round Frodo-lad. ‘Did you know your son had such a knack for making history come alive, Sam?’ Sam, all hope of looking disapproving gone now, agreed that his son had indeed inherited the ability to make old tales seem fresh and new, and ‘humorous’, he added, giving a wink to Frodo-lad.

Miz Rose had come up to where they were standing, and Sam brought a chair close for her, assisting her to sit down. Her eyes twinkled as Sam recounted the story Frodo-lad had been sharing. ‘So, Miz Pio has now seen another side of you, so to speak!’ she said grinning mischievously up at him.

Sam took his leave of them, saying he needed to attend to a few details before the ceremony began. Miz Rose watched his retreating figure fondly, then turned her attention to Frodo-lad and the two girls. ‘Let me have some quiet company here with Miz Pio before the party is in full swing, won’t you children?’ They nodded their heads ‘yes’ at her, all three standing up to go. ‘Perhaps you three can see to the other children that some of out guests have brought. Get a game going of some sort if you would.’

Rosie looked up with an impish grin. ‘Tag!’ she cried – let’s go out on the front lawn and play it!’ She ran off quickly, her older siblings running along behind her.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]