[piosenniel]

‘That was a very pleasant evening!’

Amaranthas sat on the seat of the pony cart next to Pio, her chin resting on the head of her cane. It had been a long time since she had seen many of the Hobbit families that were at the party, and she had gotten her fill of family histories and gossip. Enough she thought to last her a good long while. She chuckled out loud, thinking of the Deepdelvers from Gamwich, and the outlandish stories she had heard of Gaffer Deepdelver and his experiment with the dandelion wine.

The little house was quiet and dark as they turned onto the little dirt path leading up to it.

‘Ah! Here at last,’ said Pio, coming round to where Amaranthas sat and giving her a hand down from the cart. ‘I cannot wait to crawl into bed,’ she commented as she and the old Hobbit unhooked Thistle from the cart and got him settled in his little stall. ‘Here, let me carry those baskets of gifts into the house. You go up and open the door for me. Put on a little light if you will.’

Pio stacked the three baskets one on top of the other and bent down carefully to pick them up. She had just turned and gotten to the step up to the verandah, when she heard Amaranthas gasp, and then cry out. The baskets were dropped and Pio covered the distance to the door in a few steps.

Amaranthas stood just inside the doorway. The lamp on the little table next to it was lit now, and Pio’s darting gaze took in the tumult in the room. There was a small red trail on the floor, and one of the twins’ gowns was crumpled in a dirty heap near it. Pio ran to the bedroom. The cradle was empty, the twins and Gilly were gone, and there was glass on the floor beneath the broken window.

Her blood ran cold. The world narrowed in about her. ‘I cannot frighten them,’ she told herself, taking a ragged breath and breathing it out slowly.

Little ones! Her mind brushed round theirs gently. Your ammë is here. Sleep. Do not cry. I am coming for you.

Pio’s mind focused in what she must do. Amaranthas was put on Thistle and told to go straight back to Sam’s house. They must alert the Shiriff. Amaranthas would stay with them tonight – her house was not safe, and Pio would not be there.

Once the old Hobbit had been sent on her way, Pio rushed back to her bedroom. She undressed quickly, throwing her clothes in a heap on the floor, and pulled on her black tights and mail shirt with a tunic over it. Her scabbard was secured about her hips, and her baldric with six knives slung across her chest. She jammed her legs into her boots, securing the last two of her knives in the tops, along with a thin, woven cord garrote. last, her vambraces were secured to her forearms. Done, she went out to the yard to see if she could pick up a trail.

The kidnappers had not been careful to hide their tracks. Thank the Stars for the overweening pride of the stupid creatures she thought to herself as she crouched down, noting the general direction in which the horses had gone away from the house.

East - and it looked as if they traveled over the fields, not by the Great Road.

Throwing her cloak about her shoulders, she called Falmar to her from the fields near Amaranthas’. Pio twisted her fingers in the horse’s mane and leapt to her back, making for the gate to follow them. She had just cleared it when she heard the sound of hooves getting louder, coming closer. In the distance, beneath the bright moonlight, she saw a lone rider urge their mount on at breakneck speed up the road to Bag End and Amaranthas’.

Pio halted, throwing her cloak behind her shoulders, and unsheathed her sword as the rider, face in shadow, drew near . . .

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]