[piosenniel]

Ringarë, Year 11 of the Fourth Age

Mithadan’s Post

A tall man wearing the dusty livery of the Guard of the White Tower of Gondor enters the Inn. His boots are worn and his face grimy from long riding. Seizing a rag from the bar, he mops his brow, then collapses into a chair at an empty table.

It had been a long ride to this northern territory, and he had just spent several unpleasant hours detained by the Shiriff until his writ of safe passage from King Elessar had been debated and scrutinized and debated again to the satisfaction of the local authorities.

"An ale, please," he asks of a server. "And if you have such a thing, a glass of cordial made from the plant known in the Common Tongue as agave." The barmaid looked blankly at the Man who sighed in disappointment.

When the ale arrived, he drained it in a single long draught. He ordered a second, then looked about. A number of the patrons were staring at him and his uniform.

Painfully aware that he still wore the dust of the road as well as his clothes, he swept at his tunic with an open hand to little avail.

A bold young Hobbit approached him. "I am Elanor," she said. "What brings a Man of Gondor so far to the North?"

The Man smiled. "Well met, Elanor," he replied. "I am Hithmir, and I am here on an errand. I am one of the King's messengers and a bear a letter for one who is said to be currently in The Shire..."

Pio’s Post

'A Man!' she thought to herself, noting the new customer who had just come in. 'And from Gondor!' She called the server to her.

'What did he order? He looked disappointed at the ale.' The server explained he wanted some strange drink that she couldn't find behind the bar. Pio's brow furrowed at the mention of the name, then her eyes lit up, remembering the dusty, faceted bottle with the silvery, white liquid she had found in the cellar.

A small while later, she approached the Guard's table where Elanor sat speaking with him, bearing a small glass, the dusted bottle, and a dish of sour green fruits, cut in wedges.

'I am Piosenniel,' she said, introducing herself. 'Or Pio, if you prefer, the Inkeeper here. Welcome to the Green Dragon.' she placed the glass and bottle on the table before him. 'The drink you ordered, I believe. We don't get much call for the Southron spirits.' She put the dish of green wedges down, along with a small dish of finely ground salt. 'I did not know if you would want these.' She poured him a small glass of the silvery liquid. 'I have seen it drunk many different ways.'

'Now tell me,' she said, watching him swallow the drink at a single gulp, 'what brings you to the Shire?'

She poured him another drink, and waited.

Mithadan’s Post

Hithmir blinked in surprise and nearly dropped his glass. "Piosenniel?" he asked. "Did you say Piosenniel?"

"That is my name," said the Elf with a curious smile.

"Why then, it is you I seek!" he cried. He stood, opened his satchel and began rummaging through it. "Now, where is it?" he muttered. "Ah, here. Two parcels for the Lady Piosenniel. Now, please sign here..."

Piosenniel went to the bar and found a quill and an inkwell. Returning to the Man's table, she signed a piece of paper with a flourish. "And here you are," said Hithmir.

He handed over a sealed envelope and a small package which jingled promisingly. "Now, I could use a room for the night," he continued. "Tomorrow, I will be heading south, back to Gondor." He grimaced, thinking of the Shiriff, once again, and recalled that he had been ordered out of the Shire as soon as his business was completed.

Pio’s Post

Her hand shook as she took the letter with the familiar handwriting on it. ‘Please let it be good news from the South.’ she murmured. Pio tucked the letter in her belt, and placed the packet in her breeches pocket.

She asked Elanor to freshen a room for their new guest, asking if she might have the girl take his bags up to the room. ‘He looks fit enough to carry his own bags.’ thought Elanor to herself, but smiled and curtsied, saying nothing.

Pouring one last drink for Hithmir, and wishing him a good stay in the Shire, Pio returned to her seat by the fire. Cami came near, wanting to know, in her ever curious Hobbit way, what Pio had received. ‘Let me read it first.’ said the Elf, and then I will share it with you.’

She shooed the Hobbit off with a smile and a wave of her hand, then took the packet and letter, laying them side by side on the table. Which one to open first, she wondered, running her fingers lightly over each. She chose the packet, and opened it with the small knife from her boot top. Ten gold coins poured out, in to a glittering heap on the table top. ‘Ah! He must have sold the knife.’ She fingered the face of one of the coins, picking out the gull winged helmet that graced the upturned side. ‘A pity he could not have kept it, to pass down to his son. A good businessman, he is, though. And I am sure that if I thought about it clearly I would understand the need for profit which drives the world of Men.’

A few moments lost in thought, and then she opened the letter, running the sharp blade of the knife carefully along the letter’s edge. A single, white piece of parchment, crisply folded, fell to the table as she shook the envelope. Opening it, she read:

~~~~~~~~~~~

Beloved:

I hope this letter finds you well. You are always in my thoughts.

The refit of The Lonely Star proceeds apace, though it may be perhaps three months before it is finished. The barnacles alone took two weeks to remove.

I have sold Elros' dagger to King Elessar. Together with the proceeds of sale from the three ships some time ago (you recall I think) and less the expense of repairs to the Star, I have secured some 600 gold pieces for the partnership. This should keep Bird going for I time, I think.

I am advancing you some of the profits for your ease. But tell me, when will you return to the warmth of Gondor? Surely you do not intend to give birth to the twins so far from me? Of course, if you wish I will join you in the frozen north. You can, of course contact me without writing.

I await your reply and look forward to seeing you soon, for I miss you sorely.

With all my love,

Mithadan
~~~~~~~~~~

A few tears edged her lashes, as she folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.
Elanor had come to tell her the guest and his bags had gone up stairs. ‘Some sad news, Ms. Pio?’ she asked concerned. Pio turned her face to the girl, smiling, and wiped away the threatened tears.

‘No, not sad at all, Elanor.' Pio's hand rested protectively over the soft swell of her belly. 'I am just missing someone . . . very much, at this moment.’

Pio asked Elanor to see to the guests for the afternoon and retired to her room. She sat at her desk, pushing the clutter of books and maps to one side. The crumbs from some forgotten meal were swept up into her hand and deposited into a nearby planter.

Taking a clean sheet of vellum from the stack on the shelf above the desk, she smoothed it out in front of her, dipped a sharpened quill in the waiting inkwell and penned a reply to Mithadan.

Once done, she blotted the excess ink from the paper and folded it carefully in thirds. She tucked it into an envelope, securing the flap with sealing wax and pressed the pattern of her knife pommel into it. On it she wrote:

Mithadan
Captain of The Lonely Star
Harlond, Minas Anor

***********************

‘Hithmir!’ she called as she knocked on his door. He opened it wide, thinking it might be the wine he’d asked Elanor to bring. Surprise shone on his face, replaced quickly by a smile as Pio explained she had need of him. He nodded his head at her. Yes, he would leave tomorrow early and take her letter to Gondor with him. She thanked him as she handed him the letter and one gold coin.

Calling for Elanor when she reached the first floor, Pio sent her upstairs with a bottle of Dorwinion wine. ‘And tell him it is with my compliments, if you will.’

*********************************************

Child's post:

A number of months had passed since Cami's arrival in the Shire. The hobbit was surprised at how quickly and painlessly she had settled into the routine of the Green Dragon Inn. She still had no clear sense of why she was here, or what would ultimately be expected of her. Yet she had finally made her peace with the situation. She was intensely happy to find herself again in Piosenniel's company, even if it might last for no more than a brief interval.

But there was another reason for her contentedness that went beyond this. Cami was quite sure that she had not come here through any merit or action of her own. This suggested that someone else had meant for her to come. Basically, that left just two choices. Cami simply could not conceive that any servant of the Shadow could have led her to such a peaceful refuge, so she supposed her being here must be alright, and that something good might come out of it.

So month after month, she'd made beds, washed dishes, scrubbed floors, and learned to serve drinks, voicing few complaints about her work or questioning why she was here. Piosenniel kept her quite busy at the Inn so there was little time for personal reflection. Even with their heavy chores, she and Pio had found time to talk and laugh and joke together.

The work here was also much easier than her responsibilties in Greenwood had been. There, she was always worrying about the safety and security of the hobbit community as a whole, and wondering what was going to happen in the future. Here, she did her job to the best of her ability and left the rest to take care of itself. After a few months of this, she'd even come to think that, back in Greenwood, if she ever got back to Greenwood, it would be good to carry home a little piece of that trust, and not worry so much about how things might turn out in the future.

Sometimes, though, Cami did slip out and go on long walks through the countryside, wistfully searching for places that she'd known from many years ago when she was a child growing up in Hobbiton. Yet, she made it a point to stay clear of Bag-end, or any member of the Gamgee clan, or even any of the other hobbits she'd known from before. Something inside her head warned her that the time for this had not yet come. Moreover, she'd been away from Hobbiton so many years that, when one or two childhood friends had finally spied her working in the Inn, they hadn't even recognized her. Cami almost felt as if she'd become a ghost.

Yet, as accepting as she was of her own presence here, she was also surprised at how often her mind slipped back to Greenwood, and to the little burrow where Rose and the boys were. Cami wasn't worried about their well-being. She was certain someone was looking over them. But she found herself missing them much more than she'd ever expected, not only Rose, but also Gamba and the little ones.

The last time she'd seen Gamba, Cami had bitterly complained how headstrong the lad could be. But now, here in the Inn, she dreamt they were again together as a family. She imagined herself sitting near the hearth in her small burrow, with the long shadows of evening creeping up around them, while she recited tales of Elves and dragons to Rose and the boys. Just as she'd finished, Gamba would come over and kiss her gently on the head. Then, the soft rays of the sun would filter through the great glass window in her bedchamber, and Cami would awaken in the Shire, wondering about those she'd left behind.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]