[Child of the 7th Age]

Merry had been watching the Great Pudding War with some amusement out of the corner of his eye, since it reminded him a bit of his younger days. Buckland Hall was always a veritable beehive of raucous activity with so many burrows tucked in under a common roof. Even as a tiny hobbit, he could remember his older cousin Frodo leading a charge in the main hall with an armful of soft, ripe fruits. So it didn't surprise Merry in the slightest that Frodo would be giving out tactical advice on getting the edge on an opponent.

Pippin's pointed remarks about the undercurrent of nasty rumors quickly pulled his attention back to more serious matters. Usually, if there was any trouble headed for the Shire, Buckland was the first to hear about it. Nine times out of ten, it was some nasty business hatched in Bree or even further up the way that slipped down the Great East Road, coming first into Buckland and then the Marish or East Farthing.

Merry nodded his head in agreement, "I heard some of those rumors too, but didn't put stock in them till recently. A few days ago, my cousins Doderic and Celandine Brandybuck spoke with me. They both swore there were some strange big folk sneaking about in Buckleberry and peering into hobbit windows. That's hard for me to believe, but Doderic and his sister are trustworthy, so I can't discount what they're saying."

Merry shook his head, "Yet it just doesn't make sense! What could big folk want in the Shire? There's not a lot of jewels or fine riches, the kind of treasures you'd find in Gondor or among the Elves. But you're right to mention it to me, Pippin. We both need to keep an eye on things like that."

"I think the Shirriffs are already on the lookout," Pippin noted. "That's probably how they captured this scruffy fellow in Hobbiton."

"Now don't believe everything you hear. That could be a hobbit who laid on one too many ales who's just spreading tales," Merry retorted.

Fatty Bolger had been quietly listening to their conversation for some time, and now piped up to add his own thoughts. "If you ask me," he growled, "it's probably true. You can't trust big folk." Here he lowered his voice. "Everyone knows that. If they're so trustworthy, then why do we have a law saying they can't set foot in the Shire?"

Fatty leaned over the table conspiratorily in the direction of his two friends. "You'd best keep your voices down on this. Seems to me we've got two big folk at this party, to say nothing of this Elf whom my Aunt Amaranthas says is supposed to be married to some Man. I wouldn't trust that one as far as I could throw her." Fatty jerked his thumb in the direction of Bird. For all we know, she could be in cahoots with them."

Merry shook his head, "Fatty, I think you're seeing shadows in closets. Not every one of the big folks is a bad person. Come on now. You know that. Look at King Elessar."

"Say what you want," Fatty grumbled, "but most of them can't be trusted. Just look at what happened to me in the Locks! Better to have some Men locked up there than any more hobbits. As far as I'm concerned, they can toss that Bird lady in too, and just throw away the key."

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


Cami had been sitting quietly listening to Merry and Pippin's conversation with only half an ear. She'd been glad Pio hadn't overheard the hobbits' comments about roving big folk up to no good, as she might be worried about Mithadan who was travelling alone. It was only when Fatty Bolger started making his views known about Men, and Elves who marry Men, that Cami began to concentrate seriously on the discussion and became quite upset.

"Enough Fatty," she hissed back at him through clenched teeth. "You're my friend, but you don't know what you're talking about when you describe Bird like that!"

This was an ironic situation. Fatty would not be sitting here airing his opinions in the comfort of the Shire, if it weren't for the sacrifices of Bird and Mithadan, as well as the hard work and skilled swordplay of the Rangers down through many years. Yet he wasn't even aware of any of that.

Fatty leaned closer to Cami, like an uncle addressing a wayward child. He put his hand on her arm, and patted it gently. "No, you're the one who's confused. If you'd been in the Locks as I was, you'd see what most Men are like. Then you'd understand why we worked so hard, all of us, to get that new law passed, the one against Men setting foot in the Shire.

Cami felt a wave or irritation and dislike rise inside her head. She abruptly stood by the edge of the table, clenching her fists in a ball, knuckles white with anger. With great effort, she struggled to keep her composure, answering in a voice that was low, but icy and unflinching. "You're the one who's talking out of the side of your mouth, Fatty Bolger. There are folk in this room who aren't hobbits, yet who've given more to our people than you'll ever know. And don't tell me I can't recognize a bad man when I see him. I've known men who would make Saruman's agents look like nursemaids." She remembered back to the Tombs of Numenor.

"Anyways, whatever you call that law, it's a bad thing. There are good men and bad men, just as there are good and bad hobbits. The Shirriffs, and Thains, and Mayors, the folk in charge, should be ashamed to have suppored a law like that."

With those words of indignation, she scooped up her green skirts and stepped back from the table. "If you'll excuse me,....." she whispered to no one in particular. Then she walked purposefully towards the kitchen, opening the door to the garden, and went outside in the back.

Cami stood there a few minutes, breathing hard, and trying to catch her breath. She heard the door leading to the garden open and close again, then looked up to see Frodo staring at her with a funny look in his eye.

Cami knew she should have handled the situation differently, but she didn't want to hear that just now. "I know, I know, Frodo, I just insulted half the hobbits in that room, and they're my guests. Especially with that remark about mayors and thains. But I can't help how I feel. Wrong is wrong, and truth is truth. What kind of a hobbit goes and sticks his head inside a hole, afraid to look out and talk with anyone else who's different than himself. That's just the kind of thing that Gandalf used to hate. He always said the Free folk had to learn to cooperate." She stared at her feet in frustration.

[ March 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]