Picnic At The Bonfire Glade

[piosenniel]

Cami had declined any food, and dipped herself another cup of wine from the rather awkward punchbowl she had carried over to the oak, sloshing here and there as she approached her targeted seat.

'Sweet nectar of the vine is all I need!' she chirruped, then hicupped and plopped down with all the school marmish grace she could muster.

'It isn't miruvor, you know.' said Lassiël. 'And you're no elf as it is!' Cami giggled at the thought of a hobbit-elf.

'Gamba, help me please! Let's prop her up against the trunk so she can't fall over. Put the punchbowl next to her, and we'll leave a plate of mushroom pasties by her to tempt her.'

When they had gotten Cami situated to her liking, Lassiël wove a circlet of bright elanor and placed it on Gamba's head, adjusting it to her liking, and offered him her hand.

'Come, then, I believe I should like to dance. And you shall be my handsome partner!'

She smiled prettily at him, and he led her out.