[piosenniel]

The moment she’d heard the first words ring out over the gate she regretted having given the out-of-work Elf the job of announcing the opening of the celebration. Quenyan! The misbegotten Elf was addressing the good folk waiting patiently at the gate in that musty old language. And to top it off, he’d drug out some old catch-phrase of his, dusted it off once again, and was intoning the words in a very loud and measured way . . .

Utúlie’n aurë! . . .

‘The day has indeed come,’ Pio hissed at Fingon, taking the steps two at a time to the small platform that ran the length of the gate. ‘But it’s the party you’re announcing, not the Nirnaeth Arnoediad!’ In the background she could hear Gothmog and his fellows snickering at the old King. ‘Quiet, you lot!’ she growled at them. ‘Just open the gates when I give the signal.’

Ignoring the irritated flapping of their wings at being addressed so rudely, she pulled out her new timepiece from the watch-pocket of the poppy red vest Cami had made for her, and checked the time.

Two minutes . . . just . . .

The watch had been a recent present from one of her friends in the Shire. ‘Traveled all the way to Canoni City for that,’ he’d told her.

Where in Arda is that? she’d wondered as he’d proudly pushed the myriad buttons for her, showing all the varied interpretations of the time of day one could display on it.

‘Who knew?!’ she’d said, wondering what committee had put together the unwieldy contraption. With a smile on her face, she’d thanked him; then promptly set the dial to read Shire time.

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

Child's Post

"Daisy Zaragamba! What are you doing?"

Cami glared in the direction of her youngest daughter who had managed to comandeer all her mother's perfume and cosmetic bottles and now had them lined up atop the bar counter in the Dragon's Comon Room.

The young lass turned a pouting face back towards her mother and impatiently stamped her foot, "But, Ima , I just wanted to look pretty. Anyways, it's time for the party. It's time to go."

Cami stared at her daughter aghast. Her young face was covered with enough layers of paint to look like one of the pictures of the entombed dead from the isle of Numenor. "Get that garbage off your face right now, or you're not going to any party!" Running over and snatching up a wet rag that was generally used for cleaning off tables, she stuffed it into Daisy's hands. "I don't know where you get these ideas from! And "Ima"! What kind of a word is that? That's no proper Hobbit word."

"Rory taught me. He says Mister Tolkien knew a lot of different languages. Once he helped translate the Jerusalem Bible. He must know "Ima" so we know it too. And Rory says......"

At this point, her mother interrupted, "That's enough! I don't know any Mister Tolkien, and we're going to be late if you don't hurry."

Cami grumbled to herself under her breath, "And why does she remember only the crazy things her brother teaches her. When he tells her I want her to help with the dishes, she conveniently forgets."

By this time, the three children had lined up at the door and were tugging at their mother's sleeve in their eagerness to depart. Cami went over to inspect her crew, giving a downward yank to Holly's skirt to make certain it wasn't too short. Merimac disliked seeing his daughter in dress that he considered inappropriate, although Holly had a way of sneaking out the back door and rearranging her clothing before she ran off to see her friends'.

Giving Rory a last minute kiss on top of the head, Cami surveyed her young charges one last time and barked out a final order. "Now, everyone, I want you to listen to me. These parties can get a little wild. This isn't just good folk from the Shire, but lots of outsiders with strange ideas and stranger looks. Stay close together and don't go wandering off on your own!" With that Cami turned and marched the Zaragamba brood (formerly the Tooks and Goodchilds) purposely towards the party field. She expected her huband and the older boys to show up later.