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‘Ah, Umbariel!’ Pio looked the Elf up and down remembering their first meeting in the Green Dragon. The face of another who had once accompanied her, Bebberyn she thought, flashed into her thoughts for a few moments. A guard of Dol Amroth she thought. A half remembered story of corsairs accompanied the man’s face.
‘You have been in Lorien, have you not?’ Everdawn’s face looked serene, as if she had come to terms with the passing Age of the Elves. ‘Time passes a little slower there, under the golden leaves. I have three children now. The twins, Isilmir and Gilwen, are six years old. Little Cami is five. They have not come yet to the party, but will be here when it begins to get dark and the fireworks start.’ The two women spoke for a few more minutes, their heads bent close together, red and silver intertwining. Then a familiar sight caught Pio’s eye and she excused herself saying she hoped they would see one another again.
There by one of the food tables stood the Saucepan Man, looking quite sly. He was dumping things from out his pans . . . treats for the party goers. He’d clink-clanked off by the time she’d got to the table, and her eye strayed to the enticing sweets he’d brought down from the top of the tree. ‘Toffee shocks! Oh my,’ she said laughing at the thought of greedy Hobbits gobbling the goodies. ‘Best I should leave a note beside them.’
Toffee Shocks: Quite Good! she printed in a clear hand on a card she’d found in her vest pocket. But be warned! Take a small bite only. It grows larger in your mouth until it explodes!
She helped herself to a Pop Biscuit and a stray Google Bun and wandered off to see to the other guests. Behind her, the trees, their leaves moving in the soft breeze, were making a wisha-wisha sound . . .
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