[Child of the 7th Age]

Bilbo sat on a bench near the front of the Inn, smoking his pipe and watching two large smokerings float lazily into the sky. Several red, bound volumes sat near his side. A messenger had delivered them that morning in response to his earlier request to Sam. Bilbo had also brought a blanket out to toss over his shoulders, thinking there might be a stiff breeze. But, with the warmth of the summer sun beating against his back, he let it slip to the ground where it now lay crumpled in a heap.

Sometime later, tomorrow or the day after, he wanted to have a last look at Bag-end. Hobbiton was little more than ten-minutes away. As long as he took things at a slow pace, he might make it there leaning against the arm of a friend. Or maybe he'd hitch up the pony cart, and go off on his own. Perhaps even pay a visit to Amaranthas, since she seemed to have a good deal more sense than a number of the younger hobbits.

But today was not the time for that. Hopefully, Frodo had made it over to Bag-end, and was now tramping through the Shire with the Gamgee children in tow. If Sam had even a midge of sense, he would corral his friend after the walk, and the two of them would sit and talk. The lad still lived too much inside his own head. He needed to stretch himself a bit, not worry so much about what others were thinking or doing, just push forward and let his wishes be known. Perhaps, they should set up a little dinner party of their own at Bag-end, with Sam and Pippin and Merry and Frodo. None of the womenfolk about fussing over spilt tobacco or too much ale, or setting out thirty-six different fancy dishes. A haunch of beef and a bit of brew. Just like old times!

Then there was the whole problem of Cami and Lorien. Cami and the others were tiptoeing delicately about, thinking to hide the latest news from him. As if he didn't have ears and hadn't heard the commotion last night! Being older had slowed him down a bit, but he still had his wits about him. With a racket like that, it was impossible to sleep. He'd had been woken up by the thunder of Pio's angry voice, and had gone over to the window to look outside. He'd heard the door of the Inn slam shut once or twice, and then seen a bruised Lorien moaning on the front steps. Cami had been moping about the Inn for some hours later, haunting the corridors like a wayward ghost.

The girl would come around. He was certain of that. He knew Cami too well, not to have some glimmering of how she was feeling. He hadn't been too keen on the 'temporary' part himself. He'd tried arguing with Gandalf a time or two to see if anything could be changed, but the wizard had sadly shaken his head and said that was the best the Valar could manage.

No, despite the upset, Bilbo was still convinced his request had been a wise one. If a hobbit was desperately hungry, would he turn down one hearty meal just because he couldn't see where he'd find the next? His own views were quite simple. Take what was offered in good grace and hope that what lay round the bend would be even better.

Not that everyone here agreed with him. Piosenniel had obviously been quite upset by Lorien's message. And that newcomer.... What was her name? Oh, yes, 'Bird.' She seemed to be a natural pessimist. She'd fixed a harsh eye on him in the hallway of the Inn, as if he was personally responsible for keeping Cami and Maura apart. A shapechanger should have more sense than that! Perhaps he should have a word or two with her, and straighten out her confusion.

For now, though, let them all spin their little webs. Bilbo was certain he'd be seeing Maura sometime soon. And, however painful a short visit might be, it was better than nothing at all. He promised himelf to give this lad from the First Age a thorough grilling to make sure he was worthy of Cami.

Still, if one assumed that Maura was even half the hobbit that Cami considered him to be, it was a pity these two couldn't spend their lives together, helping each other get through the hard parts. But, if the Valar were powerless to do anything more, there was nowhere else to go for help.

Or was there?.....Bilbo sat and thought a very long time. And then it hit him. He picked up one of the books by his side and thumbed through the Quenta Silmarillion. He finally found the passage he'd been searching for, and spent a long time reading and rereading it.

Perhaps this was foolishness on his part. He wasn't sure if any of this was possible. And he'd done nothing to merit such a thing. Still a friend was in trouble. And Bilbo was not one to turn his back on a friend. He sat on the bench a very long time, pondering his options, and thinking that, despite his earlier reassurances to Frodo, how very much he'd miss the lad.

[ March 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]