[Child of the 7th Age]

Aman seemed to be doing an excellent job of supervising the jumble sale that had been set up in the rear courtyard of the Inn. Hobbits were crowding around digging deep in their pockets and coming up with pennies and farthings to pay for the assorted treasures. Once or twice Derufin had to interrupt to keep a fist fight from breaking out. But, all in all, things were going smoothly.

Cami waved a friendly hand over at Neniel. For someone who was not a hobbit, she seemed to have picked up a real feeling for the mathoms and had learned how to handle the prospective buyers rather quickly. She'd been an enormous help in preparing the items for sale and in displaying them neatly on the wide trestle tables.

Despite the protests of many of the Big Folk that they would not be caught dead buying such junk, Cami noticed that many of them inched over to the tables surreptitiously eyeing the treasures. Then, when they thought no one was looking, they paid for their little purchases and stuffed them into pockets and bags before hurrying back inside the Inn. Perhaps, reflected Cami, even the Big Folk had a little piece of hobbit deep inside.

Cami's own interest was drawn to a table where a stack of old books was on display. Many of them were dog earred and had seen better days with the pages coming loose from the binding. A few were in better condition. These almost looked as if no one had ever read them, but merely kept them on a shelf as decorations. Cami did not approve of this.

Amid the stacks of commonplace items there were a few that truly caught her eye. Cami picked up one of the old treasures on the table and opened the cover to glance inside. It looked to be a journal or diary written out in a child's awkward script. The cover of the book read "My Adventures in Buckland" by Rory Brandybuck, son of Gorbadoc and Mirabella. Cami's heart pounded fiercely as she read the faint inscription which the lad had written on the inside of the front cover:

To my father.

I hope you enjoy these tales, I've written them for you as a mathom on my sixteenth birthday. Mommy says I'm following in the footsteps of our ancestor Rory Oldbuck, son of Merimac, who was such a great adventurer and hunter of Orcs.

Your son, Rorimac Brandybuck

Cami clutched the volume to her chest with tears welling up in her eyes. Rorimac Brandybuck, descendent of Merimac Oldbuck and his son Rory. A little inscription that had survived all the way to the Fourth Age, hearkening back to family memories that stretched back over two thousand years.

She really shouldn't be looking at something like this. She expected to return to her home in Greenwood sometime soon. But there was no Gandalf to tell her no, and her curiosity got the better of her. She deposited a few coins in Aman's hat, and slipped the book inside her apron pocket, determined to read it once and then leave it sitting on the small table that stood by her bed after she'd returned to her home.