[mark12_30]

"Fatty, come have a half. Come on, I'm buying." Frodo took Fatty's elbow, and steered him away from Cami. "You're looking stout, you solid Bolger you! The wind will never blow you away!" Frodo continued amiably, poking a finger into Fatty's middle. Truthfully, there were many hobbits far rounder than Fatty, but the nickname flowed easily over the tongue, and the poor fellow was doomed to carry it for life.

"Can't we ..." Fatty began, half turning back towards Cami.

"Tell me how your mother is doing, " Frodo cajoled, steering Fatty away again.

"Not as pretty as Cami, " Fatty said pointing with his mug.

"Oh, come now, your mother is a fine-looking woman and ... " Frodo began.

Fatty snorted. "I thought you had more sense than that. Maybe folks are right about you, " Fatty said.

"What are they saying now?" Frodo laughed.

"That you look through a lass instead of at her, " Fatty said impatiently, looking over his shoulder at the lovely apparition in the yellow and green party dress.

Frodo suddenly felt off-balance. "Do people really say that?" he said indignantly, hiding his discomfiture.


"The lasses say it!" Fatty said, poking him in the chest. "You get that glassy-eyed look and they know they are out of luck. I wish half the lasses who looked at you would look at me too-- I say, Ma'am, two more half-pints please."

"Ladies say that about me?" Frodo replied with a real edge to his voice, and Fatty, tearing his eyes from Cami and taking a hard look at Frodo, belatedly realised that the air of injury about him was no jest.

The mixed emotions on Frodo's face unsettled Fatty. "Oh, don't worry about it. Really. Here, cheer up and have another beer, " Fatty ended lamely, waving at the inkeeper. He rallied again. "The point is, Frodo, Cami is far prettier than my mother, and even you should be able to see that. Whether you look at her or through her, " he glowered at Frodo and waved his mug in Cami's direction.

"Well, I know she's-- but-- I can see that-- what I meant was-- Look, Fatty, that's not the point. The point is--" Frodo was stuck and could think of nothing to say.

"The point is?" Fatty prompted, waiting.

The point is that she's here for someone else, but I can't tell you that, Frodo thought, this time successfully keeping his thoughts to himself. "Tell me, " Frodo said deliberately, "how your mother is. And your sister--"

"Ask Merry."

"And your father--"

"Fine."

"All right then. Your mother?"

"Not as pretty as Cami."

"You're hopeless!"

"As a matter of fact, " Fatty said, waggling his finger at Frodo, "I am very hopeful indeed. And that hope suddenly centers around someone who is definitely prettier than my mother!"

Out of ideas for the moment and still a little flummoxed, Frodo took a deep pull at his mug. Fatty smiled, and turned in his seat so that he could study the exquisite creature wafting about the party in a lovely, lovely yellow and green dress.


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

Child's post

Cami glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder to make certain Frodo was succeeding in keeping Fatty occupied for at least a little while. Then she sidled up to the bar and poured out a generous flagon of ale, as Merry walked over to join her with an unusually solemn expression on his face.

The tall hobbit pulled Cami cautiously aside and leaned down to whisper. "Estella tells me he was soft on you, back in Buckland when you were younger. He's a good hobbit, Cami. You could do a lot worse."

Cami turned beet red, and didn't know how to respond so she decided to steer the conversation in a totally different direction. "You know, I do miss Buckland and the Marish, the woods and river and marshes and all the old tales and songs. In many ways, it's still the most interesting part of the Shire to me."

"'Part of the Shire?' Now, don't be saying that. Buckland still stands outside the bounds, although I've been working on a plan to stretch those bounds a bit. But that won't come easy, I'm afraid."

Cami looked up and laughed, "Inside or out, you can't change the heart of the land. There's something that makes it special and different from the rest of the Shire."

"Aye, and you should never have left there." Merry wagged a finger accusingly at her nose. Running off to Minas Anor like that, and never coming back! I must have been daft to help you get a position that far from home. Going on advenures is one thing, but coming back is another. I hope you're here to stay. If you need help getting settled, Estella and I will be glad to pitch in."

"Thank you, Merry. But I can't even think past tomorrow." Cami hesitated to say anything further, since it would require such a long explanation. "But do you remember the songs we used to sing, the ones from Buckland and the Marish, back when we were younger?"

"How could I forget? The ones with Tom Bombadil visiting the hobbits?"

"And we never believed he was real.... I was so angry with you and Frodo when I heard later that you'd actually met him." Cami sighed. "Merry, for old times sake, let's give it a try. You sing with Estella, and I'll play for you." Cami picked up her flute, and began piping a tune. Merry scurried off to get his wife and they returned with arms linked, twirling and dancing about while they sang in perfect counterpoint.

Laughing they drove away, in rushey never halting,
though the Inn open stood and they could smell the malting.
They turned down Maggott's Lane, rattling and bumping,
Tom in the farmer's cart dancing round and jumping,
Stars shown on Bamfurlong, and Maggot's house was lighted;
fire in the kitchn burned to welcome the benighted.

Maggot's sons bowed at door, his daughters did their curtsey,
his wife brought tankards out for those that might be thirsty.
Songs they had and merry tales, the supping, and the dancing;
Goodman Maggott there for all his belt was prancing,
Tom did a hornpipe when he was not quaffing,
daughters did the Springle-ring, goodwife did the laughing.

When others went to bed in hay, fern, or feather,
close in the inglenook they laid their heads together,
old Tom and Muddy-feet, swapping all the tidings
from Barrow-downs to Tower Hills, of walkings and of ridings;
of wheat-ear and barley-corn, of sowing and of reaping;
queer tales from Bree, and talk at smithy, mill, and cheaping;
rumours in whispering trees, south-wind in the larches,
tall Watchers by the Ford, Shadows on the marches.

"That's enough of that. I'm all out of breath." Estella begged Merry to halt, and he quickly complied with her request. Then the threesome began chatting once again, comparing this and that fine sight in Marish and Buckland.

Fatty Bolger soon came over to join them, apparently finished with his conversation with Frodo. "Ah, that was a fine tune from all of you. You'll be asking Cami to come see Brandybuck Hall?" Fatty slipped in near Cami and stood behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder, and looked over towards his sister.

Estella beamed back, "Cami's welcome to come to Buckland anytime. She's almost like a member of the family already."

Cami smiled faintly and began to slither out from the circle, looking slyly around for any respectable means of escape. She could not see the Elf anywhere, but standing quite nearby was her old friend Angelica Baggins, who had apparently just arrived. She and Angelica had shared many an adventure as children growing up in Hobbiton. Cami lifted her hand to her friend and almost on cue, as they'd done so many times before when they were younger, Angelica noted her distress and came striding up to rescue her, "Cami Goodchild, how are you? It's been too long!"

Cami reached out her arm to Angelica in a quick embrace, and excused herself from the others, walking over to the opposite side of the room.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]