[Child of the 7th Age]

In the middle reaches of Greenwood, in the year 1000 of the Third Age, a community of some seven hundred hobbits had lately taken up residence near the eastern boundary of the woods. Most had constructed rough, temporary burrows on the ridges, looking down over a series of streams, an area rich with fish and many types of game. A smaller number had chosen to live in campsites set up above ground, while a few adventurous souls, mostly Fallohide in origin, had built flets in the treetops similar to those shelters that were common in Lothlorien.

There was a great deal of practical work to be done in building homes, securing food, and managing all the details of an ordered community. The Council of Elders met in endlessly long meetings, trying to untangle disputes between hobbits of varying clans, and determine who had the rights to a particular parcel of land when two different families each decided to build their home in the exact same spot.

When the Elders met in their circle, their deliberations were generally guided by a middle-aged hobbit woman who sat off a bit at the far end of the campfire, listening carefully to everything that was said. She was short and plumpish with brown curls, green eyes, and an open, pleasant face. Some referred to her as Nitir, and others as Cami, although she seemed to prefer the latter name.

Cami occupied a special place in the circle, and, even though the male hobbits might not normally defer to their womenfolk at home, they seemed willing to accept her guidance, purposely turning to her for help when thorny problems and disputes arose. She was astute and alert, and often thought of things that the other hobbits had not considered. It was as if she saw things differently than they did, which was indeed the case, for she had come from an age and place that was totally different than the one in which the rest of them had been born.

Cami lived in a small and simple burrow that looked no different than those belonging to her neighbors. She had five adopted sons--Gamba, Asta, Roka, Ban, and Maura--and one adoted daughter Rose, the only one of the group who was actually related to her by blood. It was Rose who stuck with Cami most closely.

The lads loved her dearly, but were more likely to scamper off on their own adventures under the guidance of Gamba, the eldest boy, who almost acted as a surrogate father for them. In the judgment of many neighbors, this was an unusual arrangement, which occasioned more than one raised eyebrow. But, given who Cami was and what she stood for, few were about to say anything directly critical to her face.

Most of the community, and even the Elders, secretly reasoned that the best way to fix this situation was to find Cami a good hobbit to share her bed and burrow. There were a string of suitors turning up, night and day, all generously offering their hearts and earthly possessions to this kind but odd woman who'd come to live among them.

Cami treated each suitor with equal politeness and respect, then packed them out the door with a strong "no thank you." If truth be told, the neighbors had begun placing wagers whether or not the woman's heart could ever be won, but they were still not ready to give up the attempt.

Cami was enormously busy with everything she had to do, but she was also just a little lonely. She fiercely missed her old friends, and found it difficult to break through to the older hobbits in the community on any kind of equal or intimate basis. Aside from the few who were trying to win her hand, the Elders treated her with immaculate respect and a certain amount of distance. Occasionally, when no one was looking, she remembered back to her time with Maura, when she had been so accepted and loved, and then she cried a few secret tears of regret.

Perhaps the hardest thing of all was recognizing that the boys would never truly acknowedge her as their mother in the same way that she had hoped for. On one level, they were a family. They laughed and played and worked together. Cami would rise up and defend her brood against anyone who dared question them.

Yet, there were times when she instructed the younger ones to do something, and before they agreed, they took a hidden, side-long glance at Gamba to make sure he approved. Once, in starry dreams, she'd glimpsed a fleeting image of a distant time when, older by a good many years, she'd seen the boys leave one-by-one, following in Gamba's footsteps, to some far away place where she could not go. The last to leave had been Maura, the littlest one who was the favorite of her heart. She had stood on a ridge and sadly waved goodbye, wondering why so many people had to leave her in this life.

The scene of departure struck a chill in her bones. Hobbits in the Shire did not behave that way. They stayed in one spot, usually next door to their parents. Her memories of the Shire were fading, as Gandalf had predicted they would, yet certain feelings and premonitions stubbornly hung on, even in this remote time and place.

Cami was happiest when the little ones from the neighborhood came to her burrow to learn their letters and numbers. There were no books to be had, a loss she grievously deplored. But, when she wrote out the words, and they managed to decipher them, the shy smiles on their faces melted her heart. Someday, she promised, when she had time, she would sit down and write a book for the little ones to help them remember a bit more of their past. It would be nothing that would upset the balance of time, just lists of families and a few bits of lore that each clan wanted to preserve.

The other time Cami was most happy was when she and Rose rode off on their healing rounds and made sure that even the smallest community had someone who could manage simple illnesses and wounds. She had already selected a number of likely hobbit lasses and lads whom she was beginning to teach the more intricate questions of healing and herbal lore. They looked forward to her visits and instruction, and, if she had known it, were beginning to regard her with deep affection in a way quite different than their parents.

Occasionally, these healing rounds carried them deep into Greenwood to visit those hobbits who'd chosen to live a life in the wild. Sometimes they met a small band of woodland Elves. Whether it was Gandalf's influence, Piosenniel's earlier threats, or Cami's own ability to earn their respect, the Elves generally greeted her in friendship, and even allowed the two women to share their campfire and listen to their songs and tales. In a world where no books existed, Cami always felt she had come to a place of magic, one from which she was sadly shut off in her own life and community.

Sometimes, Cami remembered Maura and the other life she might have led, if only things had been different. But, on bad days, it seemed to slip so far away that she found it harder and harder to see the images clearly. Still, she would not have given up her love for Maura, not for all the riches in the world, or even for a path less lonely. Wherever Maura might be now, Cami knew he was still the center of her life. Whatever good she did in Arda, whatever lives she managed to touch, it was because he'd given her the courage to follow duty, but not forget the cries of her heart.

Cami sometimes felt as if there was something she'd left undone from her quest on the Star. Yet, she couldn't imagine what that might be. In the daytime she was very busy, and, at night, her fea roamed somewhere else, searching for those she'd left behind. Only, so far, she hadn't found anyone at all. And, in the morning, she remembered nothing.

She snuggled closer to little Maura and Ban, who'd come stumbling into her bed, a rare treat since the three older boys had gone off for several weeks on a hunting expedition in Greenwood with the Greenbottle family, and Rose was with her friend Anee. She pushed her nose deep in the smallest lad's curls and felt a few silent tears drop down, wetting the edge of her lashes.

[ September 14, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]