[piosenniel]

4 Cermië

But still, there is hope in this. And who knows what will come of Bilbo's plea? For it does seem that whoever wove the silken threads that bind us together within the circles of Arda, that Power has given special heed to lovers, and only reluctantly sunders their hearts.

These words had been rolling around in Pio’s head since Cami had last spoken to her. Perhaps it was lack of sleep, or her distrustful nature, but today’s image which accompanied these words was that of two small hearts skewered on a sword.

Estel! What kind of clap-trap was that! Some tricksy concept of the immortals that mortals are expected to buy into.

What small faith she had in this word had nearly vanished when she considered her finite end and that of her children now. How easy it was to bandy that word about when one did not have death staring you in the face every day.

What arrogance was it that I ever lectured Cami on estel!

Pio’s thoughts and desire for action warred with her friendship and resolve to let her friend make her own choices. To see Cami so happy in her momentary allotment of joy made her sad beyond measuring, and in her heart she railed against the unjustness of it.

She brought her fist down with a satisfying thunk! on the table. Flour flew everywhere.

‘If you punch that dough any harder, I doubt a stone-troll could get his teeth through it!’ Cook’s words rang through her dark reverie, and looking down she saw she had reduced the ball of pie crust dough to a thin, shredded layer, a great part of which was in danger of falling from the edge of the table.

Pio rubbed the back of her hand across her nose and cheek, chasing an itch that sprang up with the invasion of her nose by the flying flour. Chagrined, she looked up, a chevron of flour and grease striping her cheek where her hand had passed. She shook her head at Cook and sighed. Gathering up the thoroughly beaten dough, she wadded it into a misshapen ball and lobbed it into the garbage bucket.

‘Try it again,’ said Cook, snorting at the sorry looking Elf. ‘This time focus on the job in front of you and don’t let your thoughts go wandering all over the place.’ Pio raised her brows at this directive.

Cook set the flour and butter in front of her again, and shrugged. ‘Must have been something unpleasant that crossed your mind. Your face looked like a dark thundercloud. Half expected to see lighting flash out from those storm dark eyes and turn the dough to cinders!’ She retrieved a bowlful of blackberries from the pantry, placing it and the sugar canister in front of Pio. ‘Might want to sweeten the filling a bit,’ she said dryly, ‘as well as sweetening your disposition! Not good for those babies to be drawing sour milk from a sour mother!’

Pio rubbed her forehead, then broke out in a laugh. ‘Is there no bottom to your well of baby wisdom?!’ She reached for the bowl of berries and sugared it with a liberal hand, sprinkling a few grains for good measure on her tongue as she stuck it out at Cook.

Cook shook the rolling pin at her in mock-menace. ‘Back to work!’ she cried. ‘I’ve promised myself you’ll have a passable, if not admirable pie, to take to Cami’s wedding picnic. Now hurry it up, I want to serve it for supper. We’ll see what the diners in the Dragon think of it tonight, then we’ll practice another tomorrow.’ Cook handed her the crockery cup she used for measuring and pushed the bowl for pie crust closer to the novice baker.

Pio bent to the task at hand, and turned her thoughts away from estel. She grinned impishly at the mound of flour and butter sitting innocently in the bowl, and sent out a quiet plea as she squished the ingredients between her long, strong fingers.

‘May the grace of the Valar be with you!’ Eru knows you are probably going to need it by the time I am finished with you.

The fat, sugared blackberries caught a stray beam of sunlight from the window and winked back at her.

Cook rolled her eyes as her ears caught the softly muttered oath, wondering if she should stir up a batch of cookies in case the second pie met the fate of the first.