[piosenniel]

The night was pleasantly warm. A small breeze had sprung up but only for a short while, and only enough to bring the scents of the night blooming flowers to her. It had grown dark and someone had lit the little lanterns that hung from the trees. They twinkled against the backdrop of the night sky and glimmered on the leaves. Voices rose and fell as groups of merrymakers came together and then departed, forming new groupings, moving on again.

The party swirled about her, and lulled by the ebb and flow of sounds, Pio was half asleep in her chair, leg propped up on the footstool Sam’s boys had brought her, her head leaning heavily on her hand. Hazily she reached out to the babies, touching their soft dreams, slipping further into dreams of her own.

Her eyes flew open as they startled awake, and her hands clasped the arms of the chair as she pushed herself upright and awake. Pio’s eyes narrowed and turned to the east, as her mind sought the reason for this rent in the peaceful night.

Little Wing! What frightens you? she called softly to her daughter, reassurance flowing back with the feel of Gilly’s calm presence in the little girl’s mind and the feel of the Hobbit’s warm, comforting hand against the little back. Her daughter's mind fluttered back toward the comfort of her dreamings.

Her son was crying, and she could feel his body tremble and tense against the frightened awakening, then calm down slowly in little steps as the familiar smells and touch of Gilly engulfed him.

Ah! She holds him close and rocks him. Pio smiled, feeling the rhythm of the chair drop him down into sleep again. She reached out to him, singing softly . . .

Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monsters gone,
He's on the run
and your ammë's here,

Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy . . .

Now both were peaceful again in their little dreams. And Pio, assured of their safety and comfort, relaxed against the chair and propped her own head back on her hand, her eyes fluttering closed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gilly turned the lamp on the little table by the door down low. ‘Hush, little lordling,’ she murmured softly to the wailing baby. He squirmed against her, balling up his little fists in rage against the sudden awakening. ‘It was nothing, little one,’ she said, holding him securely against her shoulder as she patted him gently on the back. ‘Just some trick of the wind blowing that branch from the ash tree hard against the old window pane, I’ll bet.


Sitting down carefully in the rocking chair, she cradled him close in her arms and rocked slowly back and forth. ‘Shhh!’ she whispered quietly to him, ‘shhh . . .’ Freeing one hand, she pulled the warm shawl she had thrown in her haste on the back of the chair, back over her, tucking one end round the drowsing baby, secured on her lap.

‘Hush now, your safe . . . I’m here . . .’

Gilly’s voice trailed off, the motion of the rocker coming to rest, as sleep claimed her . . .

____________________________________________

*with a thank you to J.H. & J.L. for their lyrics . . .

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]