[piosenniel]

Cami's epilogue

Cami and her mother Honeysuckle stayed close beside the other relatives of the slain hobbits who had gathered in the common room of the Dragon. The Inn had just been reopened. The room was as dank and grey as their own flagging spirits; the old boards on the windows had hastily been removed and a few shingles hammered up over the holes in the roof to try and make the place presentable.

Still, it was better than being alone. In accord with custom, Cami and her mother wore stiff black dresses and bands of mourning, as they lined up with the others to receive visitors and condolences. Folk milled quietly about the Inn, talking and drinking cups of hot camomile tea.

Nineteen hobbits had been killed at the Battle of Bywater; another thirty had been wounded. Not a large number by any means, but for those who had the misfortune to fall, any number was too large. Samwise and Frodo had arranged for those grievously wounded to be taken in by local families where they could recuperate before returning home. All the hobbits in the original Resistence band who'd chosen to fight had survived unscathed and had already left for Tukborough to tell their stories to neighbors and kin.

The Shirriffs had not shared this same good fortune. Olo had died outside of Longbottom. Brass had been wounded at Bywater and was being nursed by a local family, although he was expected to recover and live to see the old ways return, for which he was not sorry. Prior to the battle, Cami and Hob had pledged their hearts, and made their final plans to wed. With help from Paladin, Hob had secured an intricately fashioned betrothal band for Cami to replace the one she had tossed away in a rage. Engraved on the silver ring were soft green leaves with tendrils gently intertwined. The two hobbits had shared this announcement with friends at the Smials just before Hob had ridden off to Bywater. But the fortunes of war had not been kind. Hob had stood up and done his duty. His body had been laid to rest with the others in a common grave on the side of the hill, with a promise that the community would soon set up a fitting memorial.

Within a few days, the families of all nineteen fallen hobbits had arrived at Bywater meeting withing the confines of the Inn to share a little of their grief and bid their relatives goodbye. There'd been stirring songs of bravery and sacrifice, and lilting poems that spoke of lives cut short and empty places at dinner tables. Flowers spontaneously appeared on the hillside, the beginnings of a garden. No cut arangements, but living bushes and blossoms planted with loving hands so that the empty, scarred earth would once again bloom with life.

Now everything was behind her. Cami had packed her few belongings for the long trek back to Buckland. Her heart was not in it, but she did not know where else to go. Although too ill from his imprisonment to assist in person, her old friend Fatty Bolger had arranged for a cart to transport the two women back to Brandybuck Hall. Honeysuckle did not look well, and Cami was worried about her mother's health.

Hitching Dandelion up to the traces, and making sure that her mother was as comfortable as she could be, Cami climbed into the front and took up the reins. She felt a tear slip down her cheek and hastily wiped it away, hoping that no one else had looked too closely. She felt as lonely as she'd ever felt in her entire life.

Everything was changed. Hob's death and the dreams that had died with him, the years of unrest, and the Scouring itself had swept away much that Cami had simply taken for granted. Even the people she'd known were different. Samwise, the young hobbit who'd been a childhood friend, had somehow turned old and wise, seeing and understanding much more than Cami. Merry, the gifted young lad from Buckland, still had laughter in his eyes, but spoke with authority of people and places she'd never even heard of. And Frodo.... Frodo, she couldn't even talk to. He had always been quiet, and she had struggled for words. Now, even when he'd offered his sympathies, he looked as if he barely even saw her. And worst of all, the one hobbit she most wanted to see was simply not there. Bilbo had vanished from Hobbiton and was not coming back. She'd best accept that.

Everywhere Cami gazed, people looked happy. They talked about starting life anew, and making things right. Cami did not feel like that, and, right now at least, she would rather avoid those who did.

Grimly flicking the reins over Dandelion's back, the pony trudged forward. But before they'd gotten more than a half dozen paces down the lane, she was halted by the sound of a raised voice, "Cami! Mistress Goodchilde! Wait a minute. I've a message for you."

She turned around surprised to find Frodo approaching the cart. She'd already heard rumors about strange happenings abroad and, unlike the other hobbits who'd returned to the Shire, he did not look happy. His face and eyes were shadowed even more darkly than her own. "A message?" she repeated.

"Yes, a message from Mister Bilbo."

Cami's heart lurched up and down at the mention of her elderly teacher's name. She had not seen him in over seventeen years.

"I spoke with him in Rivendell," Frodo whispered, "Not long ago. He was old and frail but still worred about you....he wondered what you were doing and how things had worked out..."

Cami kept silent, as she didn't think there was much of anything she could say that would be an acceptable answer. And her heart bled at Frodo's poignant description of his uncle.

The hobbit smiled gently, almost as if he could sense what was bothering Cami, and then went on to explain, "He says you're to keep reading and learning." She nodded blankly, then sighed and muttered a thank you before sitting down again. Dandelion shifted and tossed his head pawing the ground, impatient to be off. Just as Cami picked up the reins and the cart rolled forward, Frodo spoke a final word, "One more thing. Bilbo told me you are to 'keep chasing after Elves.' It's very important!"

Cami pulled back startled, as bitter words spilled out of her mouth, "All well and good, but there are no Elves in Buckland..."

Frodo looked at her and then spoke with deliberate emphasis, "Well, then, if I were you, I'd think about moving somewhere else...."

Her thoughts ran together in confusion. A tiny light beckoned her forward; she glimpsed the trail for only a second, and then it faded away. Still, she reasoned, it must be there somewhere. She impulsively leaned over planting a light kiss on Frodo's brown curls, before turning back to her task at hand and urging the pony onward. Somewhere else? But where? It would be a full two years before she began to suspect that the answer to that question might lay hidden in the pages of a book.

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ October 29, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]