In the Shadow of the Star: Part 1

[piosenniel]

Mithadan's post

Mithadan, Bird and Rose turned to the north and left the Stock Road, making their way towards the Bridge of Stonebows. They separated before turning onto the Great East Road, with Rose following well behind the other two. After crossing the bridge, they reunited and left the road again to camp.

Another day's journeying found them just north of the Barrow-Downs as evening fell. They camped to the north of the road at Bird's insistance, keeping far away from the ancient tombs. Nonetheless it was an uneasy night and Mithadan found it hard to sleep.

They resumed their trek towards Bree the next morning, again moving through the countryside rather than using the road. But not long after they began their hike, Mithadan stopped with an odd look on his face. He grimaced and moved a hand to his stomach.

"Are you all right?" asked Bird.

He did not answer immediately, then his face cleared. "I felt odd for a moment, but it has passed," he answered.

[ April 29, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ April 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Sharon's post

As rays of sunshine filtered through the lace curtains, Cami groggily looked up to see Maura staring at her with a serious expression on his face. She sat bolt upright, waiting for him to speak. "You've a note from Pio," he hastily explained, "It was left late last night, after we'd gone to bed."

Cami unfolded the paper with shaking hands, sensing that the moment she'd been waiting for had finally arrived. She read the note quickly, then set her feet on the floor, tossed on some clothes, and stuffed one piece of bread into her mouth and another in her pocket. "I have to go. Now. Pio says the twins will be here today. And Elves always know these things, or so she tells me." Cami raced around the burrow, searching for a few useful items that she'd set aside specially for this moment. She hastily thrust them into her apron, but continued ransacking the closet shelves.

"What are you looking for now?" Maura appeared to be genuinely curious.

"That bottle of ale, the one from the Green Isle, that Frodo gave to me." She bent down and reached to the very back of the bottom shelf and pulled out a strangely shaped flask filled with a mysterious dark brown liquid. The bottle had some sort of paper label glued to it which Maura thought looked very unusual, and there were oddly shaped letters that he'd never seen before.

"What in all of Arda is this?" He held up the flask to the sunlight and squinted at it.

Cami shrugged, "I'm not sure. Something about the modern day nectar of the Ainur. It's supposed to taste delicious. Pio says it's a hearty, nourishing brew. To tell the truth, I've never seen anything like it before."

In any case, since her friend had made a special point of telling Cami to bring it, she tucked the bottle under her belt, and ran off towards the Inn, yelling back at Maura that he should take care of Holly.

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

Cami was uncertain what she'd find within the Elf's bedchamber. Perhaps, Pio would have all the difficult business finished, and be sitting regally like an Elf queen with one twin perched on each of her knees. Then again, perhaps not.

As she left the courtyard and came through the back door, Cook grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her into the kitchen, "Thank goodness you're here. We're trying to take care of customers and tend to Miz Pio. It's not easy. Ruby's gone and collapsed on us." Cook pointed over to the corner where a limp hobbit figure had been hastily deposited in a large chair. Then she shook her head, "The girl was supposed to be helping the midwives with their supplies and drinks and such. Poor Ruby isn't used to such things. I hope you're more reliable than that."

Cami nodded vigorously and stood up straight, trying to look serious and competent as Cook carefully scrutinized her from the top of her curls down to her toes. Cook scowled a bit. The woman had obviously never given birth, but she did look to be the steady type, not prone to fits of fainting. With a shake of her head and an audible sigh, Cook handed Cami a tall stack of clean towels with a pot of boiling water balanced on top. "Go on with you then, but don't dawdle too much. Come right back as we've a cool drink for Miz Pio and the midwives as well."

Cami nodded, then scurried over to Piosenniel's bedchamber as fast as she dared, with a pile of supplies precariously perched between her eager, outstretched arms.

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

For the remainder of the morning and on into the early afternoon, Cami ran back and forth from the bedchamber to the kitchen, fetching and lugging all the supplies that Peony and Angelica needed. By lunchtime, she'd lost track of how many trips she'd made. She finally collapsed on a chair in the kitchen with her feet and legs hoisted up over the arm. But one scowl from Cook, coupled with dire threats of being replaced, pulled her up abruptly, and sent her scurrying out with another pot of boiling water.

To be truthful, the Elf did not look at all well to Cami. Pio's eyes seemed strained, and her face had a greenish tinge. Her friend had spoken so comfortably about the birth of the twins, as though she could do it in a single afternoon with no more effort than it took to knock off an armed opponent. But this seemed quite different.

Pio's body shook in obvious discomfort, yet she strained and bore down horribly in the precious moments that came between. For most of the time, Cami stood at the back of the room, worrying about what was happening and trying to stay out of the way of the midwives who seemed to know what they were doing. The fact that the Elf was so much larger than the hobbits meant that the two of them had to work together if they wanted to lift her shoulders or encourage her to sit up.

Once however, the hobbit tiptoed up close to Pio's bed and knelt down beside her friend. Cami placed her hand on the Elf's jagged curls and swept them out of her eyes, whispering how much she loved her and that Pio should relax so that the twins could come very soon. Then she slipped out one of the little things from her pockets, a sweet smelling sachet of herbs, and placed it near her friend's pillow. But then the tides turned and Cami was again whisked away as Angelica and Peony cried out for more cool rags.

[ April 30, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ April 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Loëndë

Early afternoon found Piosenniel tired and irritable. Contraction after intense contraction wracked her body, leaving no time to recover between them, and barely time to breathe. She was on the bed now, crouched against the pillows stacked in front of the headboard. Her face was pale and slick with sweat.

Mithadan! I cannot bear this much longer..

Further thought was cut off by another round of pain and pressure.

A grimace that might have passed for a smile flitted across her face when her thoughts cleared for a moment. She consciously relaxed her body and leaned against the pillows.

By the sea and stars, Mithadan, I would rather face the Orcs in Gondolin again. The pain of the blade is finite, and quickly gone. Something I understand. Something I can control in my own way. But this . . .

Peony said something to her, and Angelica repeated it. Their voices were kind . . .

[piosenniel]

Nurumaiel’s post

Angelica was pale as Peony sent her about the room, giving instructions rapidly. At last the hobbit sat down on a chair near the bed and said in a wailing voice, "I can't take it any longer, Peony! I can't do this anymore!"

Peony walked to the chair and gripped Angelica's shoulders, leading her into a dark corner. "I'll be brief, Angelica, because we're needed with Pio, but for goodness' sake stop complaining. You're a bundle of nerves! My goodness. It's not so bad as that, is it? Put yourself in the poor Elf's place.

"Now! Take three deep breaths and come back to the bed with me. You have to calm yourself as well as Pio, so tell some story… how Fosco and Prisca were born."

Angelica did as she was instructed and took three breaths, then went back to the bed. Her voice trembling a little, she spoke. "Y-you having these t-t-twins and all reminds m-me of when my own twins came into the w-world," she said. "Unlike y-you, though, I d-didn't expect them to come when th-they did. I was w-walking out in the g-garden when I just collapsed." A little smile came to her face. "It wasn't actually because of the twins," she said, her voice no longer shaky. "I took a misstep, you see, and twisted my ankle. Merimac brought me inside and a few minutes later I discovered I was in the first stages of birth, with mild contractions."

Peony smiled. She had heard this story once before, only in more detail. She always found it rather amusing how Angelica twisted her ankle just before she began to give birth to Fosco and Prisca. Looking at Pio, she could see the Elf was trying to forget the pain and listen to Angelica, but that she was only half-hearing everything that was said.

"Well, there was no time for a midwife, and I was nervous as well as in pain. Fosco doesn't know it, but Prisca is a few minutes older than he." She paused for a minute trying to gather her thoughts. "Prisca came quickly. There were a few minutes of horrible, horrible intense pain, then I heard a little wailing cry and saw Merimac's face. It was such a wonderful thing to see, his first look at his daughter. He just held her and gazed down at her for the longest time.

"Then it was Fosco's turn. He always was a stubborn boy. He was terribly opposed to leaving his warm home and I struggled with him. The pain was too great to imagine and I don't know how I lived through it all. But I did, and then Fosco came, too." She smiled as she thought about it. "I always wanted more children, and I may yet, you know. It's not too late."

Peony saw that the pain was growing more and more intense and so she leaned forward, whispering softly in the Elf's ear, "Think of something else, Pio. Think of something beautiful."

Angelica repeated this, and Peony saw plainly that she was thinking of something beautiful… when she had first become a mother. Peony knew that look on Angelica's face. The hobbit wasn't thinking of her twins anymore: she was thinking of her Madoc.

[piosenniel]

Mithadan's post

The three travellers continued on for perhaps a mile or so before Mithadan again stopped. He groaned, grasping at his belly, then collapsed to his knees.

"Mith!" cried Bird in alarm.

He looked up at his friends. His face was red and he was puffing heavily. After a moment he grimaced again, doubled up in pain. Bird rolled him onto his back and Rose dabbed at his sweating brow with a cloth.

From between gritted teeth, he spoke with a strained voice. "What day is it?" he asked.

Confused, Bird counted rapidly on her fingers. "It is the 30th of Nárië, I think," she answered.

"No," said Rose. "It is Midsummer."

Mithadan's eyes widened, then closed as his stomach was wracked with another wave of pain. "Piosenniel!" he spat.

"I'm sure she's fine Mith," said Bird. "Now relax, whatever's ailing you will pass."

His hand shot out and he seized her by the collar, pulling her close. "Its Piosenniel," he snarled. "We're having the twins!" He let her go as another wave of tightness swept over his body.

Bird rocked back on her heels, considering his words. Then her eyes grew wide. "She...you...Mith, can you shut her out?" He shook his head.

Bird turned to Rose. "Do you think we should boil water or something?" she asked.

[ April 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post:

By lunchtime, a large crowd had gathered within the Common Room, mostly friendly and all curious as to how the Elf was doing. Every so often, Cami would pop her head inside and give a general report on what was going on in the Elf's bedchamber.

A few of the hobbits had taken out copper coins and were making wagers on when the babies would come. Cami took a broom and threatened to beat several of them over the head if they didn't stop wagering immediately. Upon hearing the racket, Cook came striding out with her cleaver in hand and growled, "Listen to what Cami says. Next time, it'll be a cleaver instead of a broom!" She held up the wicked looking utensil and glared about. The copper pennies vanished as quickly as they'd appeared.

Once in the late afternoon, Cami took a minute to go over to the table where Frodo and Bilbo sat together with Maura, Ban, and Zira. She spoke with them and took a cold drink, even eating a little after Maura sternly insisted.

Zira looked at Cami with worried eyes, "So long, so long. This has not been easy, especially for an Elf. How is she?"

"Exhausted and in great pain. For a moment this afternoon, I feared for her. But she found new strength somewhere inside and now things are happening quickly. I hope we'll see the twins very soon. I must get back."

Maura gave Cami a kiss on her head, and made her promise that, when all this had ended, she'd come home and take a long rest. "You're thinking about our baby," she whispered back to him.

"Yes, I am." He slid his fingertips through her hair and softly embraced her.

She leaned her head onto his shoulder. "Of course, no one can say how things will go, but you shouldn't worry. My mother had an easy birth. She went out that morning to help in the fields, and stopped beside a brook. Barely three hours later, she came walking home with me cradled in her arms. It's not always so painful or lengthy, but having a child is very hard work."

Then she turned to go back to her own work. Neither of them mentioned what was really on their minds. But as Cami trudged towards Pio's chamber, she wondered whether Maura would ever see his son. And she wondered too where Mithadan was now and just how he was faring.

[ April 30, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Loëndë

The merciless urgency to push these babies from her was now full upon Pio. The idea of it, the need for it consumed her.

In a brief moment of respite, Pio brought up an image of the Sea. A wild and powerful scene from her childhood . The shores of Falas, the coarsely pebbled, northern strand and the unrelenting advance and retreat of the waves and water.

White waves crashing loudly, one after the other, on the beach, and the roaring hiss of the water as it ran over the pebbles, pushing outward, as if the spirits of the waves and water sought escape from the confines of the Sea itself.

So clamorous and so vivid was this image that she could barely hear the voices of Angelica and Peony as they spoke to her . . .

[piosenniel]

Nurumaiel’s post

"The first is almost here," Peony whispered to Angelica, and then repeated the same thing to Pio. "The first of your children is almost here, Pio. Relax… it will be soon."

She continued to speak reassuring words to the Elf and smiled at Angelica. Yes, it would be soon.

[ April 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Loëndë

It was her daughter, who first slipped into this world, and with a loud wail proclaimed it her own. Pio grinned widely, reaching for the dark haired, red faced, wizened little bundle as Peony brought her near.

She made the way easy for her brother, who followed shortly after, and without much effort, protesting with a lusty cry, the touch of cold air against his skin.

Pio held them both in her arms, kissing each on their tiny head as they turned to find her.

Mithadan! Your son and daughter have arrived. All is well! They await your naming. Take care, Beloved, and return to us safely.

[piosenniel]

Nurumaiel’s post

Pio was wild with joy. She kissed her son and daughter again and again, the joy clearly shining in her eyes. "It is hard to resist," said Peony. "When Madoc was first born Angelica had to practically hide him from me. I couldn't stop kissing him."

The work wasn't yet finished yet, Peony knew, so she said, "Angelica, bring me some water and then go down to the kitchen and get yourself a cup of tea. I'll finish up with Pio."

Angelica obeyed, but seemed a little reluctant to leave. At last she turned and, closing the door softly behind her, left.

Peony worked quickly and soon finished with Pio and the babies. She then retreated to a dark corner to leave the joyful mother with her children. She would be close by if she were needed.

[Mithadan]

Suddenly Mithadan seemed to relax and he he settled limply on the ground. Rose looked at him with wide eyes. "Is he dead?" she asked.

"That would serve him right now, wouldn't it?" said Bird with a grin. "I'm sure Pio wished that many a time during the past few hours."

Mithadan smiled weakly. Mithadan! Your son and daughter have arrived. All is well! They await your naming. Take care, Beloved, and return to us safely.

"Take care indeed," he muttered, the image of the two babes lingering in his mind for several long minutes. He rolled over weakly and glared at Bird who was giggling again. "I'm so glad you've enjoyed yourself," he said. "Now fetch me some water, Auntie..."

[theWhiteLady]

While Bird went to fetch water from a nearby spring, Rose dug through her pack, making quite a mess on the ground about. Now that Mithadan had recovered, she had remembered a small packet she had shoved in with a few apples snitched from the kitchen. The apples were long gone, but she was certain the packet should still be inside...

After several minutes searching, she finally shouted triumphantly and held up a small bag. Bird had returned from the spring, and she turned about with a pained expression, about to warn the young hobbit to keep down her voice - they did not want to alert all of the Shire of their presence - but Rose cut her off.

“Mithadan,” Rose made a small curtsy before the man. “May I be the first to wish you congratulations on the birth of your twins.” She opened the small bag and pressed it into his palm. Inside, he discovered with a laugh, twelve cigars.

[piosenniel]

Loëndë

‘Here! Let me hold the little ones for a while.’ Gilly reached first, with practiced hands, for the girl. ‘Amazing,’ she thought, as she pushed the soft blanket back from the little face and looked closely at her features.

Light grey eyes peered back at her brown ones, looking solemnly for a few moments at the large visage which loomed over her. A tiny, perfect hand and arm pushed out from the loosened blanket and stretched, the fist clenching, then relaxing as the baby yawned and closed her eyes.

‘It’s a wonder, isn’t it?’ Gilly said, turning to where Peony stood. ‘She looks much like the newborns back at home. Perfect, and lovable.’ She bent her head closer to take in the baby’s sweet scent. Her heart already half won over as the wee one settled comfortably into her arms.

‘So trusting,’ she murmured. Gilly’s fingers reached gently up to smooth back a few stray, damp dark curls that lay along the baby’s brow, as she whispered some soothing sounds. Her finger strayed down the soft cheek, stopping briefly at the dimpling near the corner of the little mouth. Greedy, as all babies are, for the comforts of their mother and a full belly, the face turned toward the light caress, lips seeking sustenance.

The Hobbit laughed in delight at the strong, insistent mouth, angling toward the promise of food. Pio smiled and reached back for her daughter. ‘This one is well fed and sleeping now. Take him for a while, and let me have the hungry one.’ The Elf gathered the now fussing, frantic chicklet to her as Gilly clasped the little boy, and sat down carefully with him in the rocking chair.

‘Oh, look at you! You’re just as handsome as your sister is beautiful.’ Hair dark as a raven’s wing at midnight crowned his head. At her words, his eyes opened and dark grey, they regarded her, as if taking her measure. ‘Am I up to your standard?’ she laughed, watching his serious face. ‘Am I acceptable, little master?’

His hand lay open and inviting at his side. She touched a finger to the palm, smiling as he grasped it strongly. ‘We are agreed then, to be friends, eh?!’ she said solemnly, kissing the little finger tips that clung to her own.

Peony grinned as she watched the second baby win the Hobbit’s heart. She nodded at the Elf, who had followed closely the interchange between Gilly and her children. Pio smiled and nodded back, glad that her final concern had been resolved just now. She had always known that the Hobbit would be a good caretaker for the little ones. Now she was assured Gilly would love them, too.

Gilly, drawn from her reverie by Pio’s voice, looked up from the now sleeping boy. ‘It sets my mind at ease, Gilly - that you will watch over them when I cannot.’ Peony took the napping girl from Pio’s arms and settled her in Gilly’s other arm. The Elf leaned forward, and regarded the Hobbit with a serious face.

‘They are new, little innocents in this marred and shadowed world. They trust you, Gillyflower Took. Keep them safe.’

Gilly took a deep breath, and nodding her head, accepted the charge. Pio smiled, watching her bend to give them each a gentle kiss on their brow.

[ May 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post


Cami gazed over Pio's shoulder and stared intently at the smaller of the two wiggling bundles nestled securely in her friend's arms. She smiled gently at the prospect of being an "Auntie." Glancing over at Maura, she observed, "I believe this one has Pio's looks and temperment. Just look at her face, all scrunched up. She already knows exactly what she wants and is figuring out how to get it."

As if in response to Cami's words, the girl gave out a yelp of protest at some real or imagined injury in her tiny world. Pio tenderly shifted the little bundle closer, until the only sound heard inside the room was that of a little one nursing.

On her friend's face was a look of contentment that was different than any Cami had seen there before. The hobbit leaned over and found her own thoughts brushing against those of her friend. I'm so very happy for you. All those months of waiting and now this joy. I only hope Mithadan returns soon to be with you.

As Cami returned to Maura's side, she saw a shadow flit briefly over her husband's face. It was only an instant before he willed it away and turned to her again with a smile. There was no need for Cami to ask what he was thinking. The birth was over, and yet they were still here. But how long would that continue? Perhaps, Lorien would come to them tonight, insisting that they leave and go their separate ways.

A feeling of panic welled up in Cami's heart as she desperately searched for some way out. She tried to reassure herself. They shouldn't be leaving for at least a week. She'd already promised Bilbo that the two of them would stand up in the sitting room of Bag-end on the day of the twins' welcoming party, and exchange their vows publicly in front of friends. Like Maura, she purposefully shut out her fears and focused on Pio and the twins, since all the paths that led beyond this day held too many unanswered questions.

[ May 08, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Pio knew that the first thing Amaranthas did in the morning was to step out on her covered front porch and inspect her flower pots for any caterpillar, or spider mite damage. She would look closely at each flower and peer under the leaves, for tell-tale signs of larvae or webbing; then, inspect the edges of the glossy green leaves of the camellia bush for evidence of bite damage from the caterpillars. Today was no different. In fact she had stopped in the kitchen on her way to the front door to mix up a weak solution of Pear’s granulated soap and spring water to spray on the plants as a preventative.

All was forgotten as she opened the door and the folded piece of thin vellum floated down to her feet, bearing the bold script signifying it came from Pio’s hand.

‘Now what’s that fool Elf gone and done! Rode that horse out here again?!’ She looked about the small lawn and down the path for any 'evidence' that ‘Falmar had indeed born her mistress to the house. Seeing none, she opened the note, and a wide grin split the wrinkled face of the old Hobbit.

She plunked her spray bottle down on the porch, and addressed her precious plants. ‘Sorry dears, but you’ll have to fend for yourselves today. I’ve got urgent business in Bywater.’

Amaranthas hobbled as fast as her ancient legs would carry her back to her bedroom, threw on a dress, smoothed her curls with her fingers, and giving up on them, jammed her straw hat firmly on her head. On the top shelf of her closet, she carefully drew down the basket with presents in it for the twins. Grabbing her cane from on top her dresser, she made her way to the small shed where Thistle stood, munching at the hay Amaranthas had left her last evening.

‘No time for breakfast now, Thistle,’ she said opening the half door wide, and leading her out. The small pony cart was soon hooked up, and Thistle twitched her ears in anticipation. Amaranthas had mentioned something about carrots, and apples and oats from Hob once they reached the Inn.

Neighbors along the lane leading to the road to Bywater were forced to jump quickly from the path of the speeding pony and her determined driver. ‘What’s lit a fire under the old gal?!’ exclaimed one of the farmers whose handcart had ended up in the ditch as he scrambled to get out of the way.

In record time they made it to the Inn. Amaranthas stepped from the cart, assisted by Hob. He was trailed by Madoc who was helping out in the stable while his sister, Prisca, spent the day playing dress-up and frosting cookies with Minta. Hob handed out the basket to Madoc, instructing him to help Miz Amaranthas up the stairs to the Inn, and show her to Miz Pio’s room.

Amaranthas stood, brushing vigorously at her road dusted dress, and raised her sharp black eyes to Hob when at the mention of needing help to get up the stairs. Her face softened at the sight of Madoc, who stood there so attentively, and she nodded to him, taking his offered arm.

‘Lead on, then, laddie! I’ve got babies to be seen to . . .’

[piosenniel]

Peony and Gilly had slipped out to the Common Room for a bit to eat. The babies were sleeping and Piosenniel seemed comfortable enough, and more in want of rest than their company. Each now had a pint of the Dragon’s nut brown ale clenched in their fists as they stood looking for a table to join.

The Common Room was buzzing with activity. Free ale and the chance to relax and gossip a bit in these troubled times had drawn the locals in. Many of them had met Miz Pio when she was the Innkeeper, and there were only a few who begrudged her the right to be staying in the Shire to have her babies. More there were, however, who grumbled over the fact the father was here also, and he was one of those trouble causing Men.

Not such a one was Hap Burrfoot, one of the lads from Bywater, and a master brewer. He had liked the Elf from the first, found her a first rate, knowledgeable buyer of his various ales, and had enjoyed his amiable arguments with her on the ideal ratios of ingredients and types of water for making the best ales. He granted her that she had indeed traveled much and tasted widely of the brews the world outside the Shire had to offer. But it was his considered opinion that despite her cultured taste buds, she would find no better ales than the ones she would taste within the Bounds. To his delight, she had agreed with him, and they had spent a week or so, soon after she first came to Bywater, traveling about the country side, taste-testing the Shire’s finest.

Mister Mithadan, when he arrived, had proved as apt a pupil and connoisseur as his wife. And though, he couldn’t leave the Inn much because of the King’s edict, he had been more than willing on several occasions to taste the samples that Hap brought to the Inn. Hap found him an altogether genial fellow with a thoroughly wicked sense of humor.

It was Hap who waved Peony and Gilly to his table and bade them sit with him and his mates. One of the servers was called over, and soon a plate of thick cheese sandwiches and pitcher of ale were being passed round the group. Hap topped off Peony’s ale and passed the plate of sandwiches to Gilly. He looked round the room for any sign of Miz Cami or Cook, then leaned in toward the two women.

‘My friends and I have a little wager going on as to just when Miz Pio’s babies were born. I was wondering if you could shed some light on it.’ Peony laughed aloud and shook her head at him. ‘It’s a friendly wager, Peony. Help us out here.’ He grinned at her, and topped her pint off once more. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘there’s a dance coming up this weekend to celebrate Mid Year. Tell me when the babies arrived, and I promise to escort you there and see to it that you have a grand time.’ He grinned broadly at her once more, settling himself comfortably back in his chair, and waited . . .

Nurumaiel's post

Peony paused and groaned at this tempting offer. Looking a bit sorrowful, she shook her head. "I would love an escort to the dance, but I couldn't possibly tell you."

"And why's that?" Hap demanded.

Peony grinned widely and took a bite of her sandwich, leaning back smugly. "Did either of you guess, 'I don't know, the midwives were probably too busy to look at the time?'"

"You mean you don't know?"

"And that's a fact." She sighed. "I guess I'll have to find a different escort to that dance, eh?"

Pio’s post

His chair legs hit the floor with a thunk. Hap’s companions looked sideways at him and snickered s bit, averting their eyes quickly when he glared at them. One of them, a braver fellow than his friends, clapped Hap on the back, and leaning close whispered to him. ‘Guess you’ll just have to ask her straight out, won’t you?’

Hap’s face took on a decidedly red tinge, and he hid what he could of it behind the mouth of his pint. Taking a hasty swallow, followed by a deep breath to regain his composure, he turned once again to Peony and smiled ingratiatingly at her.

‘I should have guessed you would have been to busy to keep track of time. No matter really. In fact, it keeps the three silver pennies each of us was putting into the pot in our own pockets.’ He took another deep breath and plunged on. ‘In fact, it should be enough for a nice meal at the Inn and a couple of pints before the dance. That is if you’re still willing.’

Hap’s companions busied themselves in the deep study of the bottom of their tankards, while Gilly, a bite of sandwich half chewed in her mouth, looked unabashedly at Peony, wondering what she might answer . . .

Nurumaiel's post

Peony stopped whatever she had been doing, which she couldn't quite remember, and stared wide-eyed at Hap. Then slowly color stole to her cheeks and she looked at the ground. "Well..."

Hap opened his mouth to try to say, "Please, Peony," but no words would come out. He was much too nervous.

After all these years? Peony wondered. What is wrong with me? She looked up and a wide smile came to her face. "Certainly I'll go," she said with a laugh. "I'd be delighted. Thank you, Hap."

[ May 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

1 Cermië

After a day's rest, Mithadan, Bird and Rose continued on to Bree. They separated again prior to reaching the gate and Rose waited an hour before before following the other two into the town. Thus Mithadan and Bird arrived at the Prancing Pony in the late afternoon and Rose arrived at dusk.

After securing quarters for the evening, Mithadan and Bird proceeded to the Common Room where they sat sipping at mugs of ale and listening to the locals converse. Upon hearing one complain that there was too little trade with The Shire, Mithadan seized an opportunity to enter the conversation.

"Yes, we entered The Shire, and a bad business it was," he said. "We're up from the south looking for a place to call our own and ran into this fellow who warned us about the Halflings. As a precaution, I hid my sword and a change purse before going on at his advice. Good thing too! No sooner had we entered that land as a bunch of Halflings on ponies rode up and took us. Trapessers, they called us, though we'd done no harm. And they shut us into this tiny room and locked us in while they went through our things. Held us there for weeks, they did, before showing us the door as they say. Escorted us to the border and said they's as soon shoot us full of arrows if they saw us again. Took our horses and the lady's purse as a 'fee' for their fine services, they did. If we hadn't hid some things afore we entered their hospitality, we'd have nothing but the clothes on our backs."

The Men they were speaking with nodded and grumbled in sympathy. Mithadan then steered the conversation to the subject of work. "The fellow we met near the border of The Shire, he offered me some work, he did. I'm looking for him now to take him up on his offer. His name was Stoat or some such thing. You know where I'd find him?"

Their faces darkened a bit at the name. But eventually, after a bit of prodding, they directed Mithadan to Ferny's plantation. "You might find work there, though I can't say as you'd like it," said one. "And where Ferny is, Stoat will soon be skulking about..." They suggested that he might wish to find another employer, then wished the two a good night as they stood to leave.

As they passed the door, Rose entered with her pack. They favored her with a scowl and continued to their rooms.

[ May 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Birdland]

The Prancing Pony seemed to have recovered from whatever damage the doings of Saruman had caused in the area during the time of the War. In fact, with the roads slowly improving and trade stirring from the South and West, it had even shown some improvements. Mr. Butterburr had always taken pride in his inn, and was putting his new-earned wealth in a variety of repairs and improvements. Bird approved of the fine new feather bed and soft wool blankets on the sturdy bed.

"But where will you sleep, "husband"? said Bird with a grin as she bounced up and down on the bed, testing the tightness of the rope springs.

"What? And after I have just been through "birth" - Though second hand - you would consign me to a bedroll on the floor? I'll flip you for it..."

Later, as Bird settled into a cozy spot on the mantel (in Neekerbreeker form) and Mith settled with a sigh into the featherbed, the little skinchanger returned to the subject of Bill Ferny.

" 'Plantation', eh? From what I had always heard of that Ferny fellow, he seemed barely to have the skill or will to grow a spotty turnip, let alone an entire crop." Mith rolled over and gave a prodigious yawn, but Birdie ignored the hint and continued to talk in her squeeky, faint insect voice. "Just what do you suppose he grows on this 'plantation', Mith? And who is doing the growing for him?"

[ May 08, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Auriel Haevasawen]

After the children had almost escaped Ferny has decided to give the job of gaoler to another of his men. Stoat was relieved to be free of such a charge. It didn't really suit his temprement. He had the same attitude to children as he did to kittens. Better off in a bucket full of water with an empty bucket pressed on top.

Some other man, some man who'd had children some time in Gondor or another far flung place watched over them. He'd even built them a little pen so that they might get a little light. He'd ever offered them water for washing but being children they refused. Stoatie wandered over from a small smithy that had been set up for the making of weapons and peered through the mesh as the boy Fosco. The other two children cowered together in the corner of their 'rabbit run' Fosco still stood erect and defiant although his imprisonment had now been of such a length to demoralise an adult. Old Stoat spat upon the ground, through the mesh and near the boy's feet. "Yer fair reek yer little rascal. There'll be no more name calling from ye now."

"I'll call you what I like. I heard what that Ferny man said. He's your boss and he said you mustn't hurt a hair of my head!"

Stoatie smiled. "That's only cause he wants to keep the torturing of you all to himself." Stoatie hissed and walked away. The hobbit children were beginning to bore him. Stoate was a house-breaker, a theif, a kidnapper and murderer too. He wanted to get his hands on that Hobbit gold that Ferny had promised him. He liked quick hits, this was taking far too much time for Old Stoat. The longer this took then the greater the chance of discovery. Stoatie had no intention of being discovered. He would bide his time a little longer but he was hungry now. Not for food like his captive halflings but for the riches he'd been promised.

[ May 08, 2003: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]

[piosenniel]

1 Cermië

Amaranthas spent the day with Pio, and she was glad to have her company. She was one of the few visitors whose topics of conversation extended beyond the boundaries of the best way to get twins on a schedule, or when might be the best time to try thin oat gruel on a baby who wants to nurse all the time. And yes, the babies were cute agreed Pio for the hundredth time, or was it the thousandth she thought smiling blithely, as a well wisher from the Inn cooed over them. But, By the One, they were only babies, and love them fiercely and completely as she did, her mind could not fathom that people might think they were the boundaries of her world now.

The little ones were in fact asleep at present in the other room, and Gilly had gone in with them - to nap and to reach a hand out now and then, giving the cradle a gentle rock should they fuss.

Pio and Amaranthas sat together out in the Inn yard, near the stable. Hob had placed two comfortable wooden chairs beneath the tall spreading oak, with a small table between them. He kept an eye on the two ladies, shooing away any well-wishers gently but firmly. A plate of thick sliced bread, thin sliced cheese, and great, fat, purpled plums graced the table, compliments of Cook, along with a pot of sweet spice tea.

‘Care for some tea?’ asked Amaranthas, pulling the two mugs close to her, and picking up the pot.

Pio reached out her hand and stayed the pouring of the tea. ‘This is better, I think,’ she said winking at her companion. She pulled out the clear flask with the dark brown liquid in it from the small basket she had had Hob fetch for her. It poured out thick, dark and rich, with a crown of fine, dense creamy foam. ‘A present from Cami,’ she explained. From some little known, green isle to the northwest of Lindon. ‘Quite good for nursing mothers, or so I have heard,’ she said smiling, as she licked the line of foam from her upper lip.

Amaranthas sniffed the deep, roasted grain smell, and took a swig from her mug. She shook her head and hmmmph’d once the brew slid down her throat. ‘Wonderful,’ she said, ‘but I must say it tastes suspiciously like a well done ale.’ ‘An exceptionally well brewed ale,’ she said taking another appreciative drink.

In all it was a relaxed afternoon they passed beneath the old tree. Amaranthas had gleaned a lot of information from her neighbors on the status of the investigation into the disappearance of Fosco and the other Shire children and shared all she knew with Pio. In turn, Pio had spoken quietly of Mithadan and Bird’s attempt to find out what they could.

‘I wondered why he wasn’t here’ remarked the Old Hobbit, nodding her head in understanding. ‘I thought it a little queer that a father should go off somewhere just as his first born are due. But I held my tongue, thinking you would tell me in due time.’ She reached over and patted Pio on the hand.

Gilly came out, bringing the fussing and hungry babies to their mother, and all talk of worrisome things was put aside while the babies nursed. It turned instead to lighter talk of the upcoming Mid Year dance, with Gilly chiming in her piece of news that Hap Burrfoot had asked Peony to go with him.

‘About time that young woman found herself a respectable Hobbit to settle down with,’ pronounced Amaranthas. ‘High time she was thinking about a family of her own instead of delivering other women’s babies.’ Pio let the remark drop, knowing the futility of arguing with Amaranthas on the merits of settling down and having a family versus life as a single person.

Soon, Amaranthas felt the need to get back to her own home. She had Hob fetch Thistle and the pony cart, and before leaving extracted the promise from Pio that she would get out tomorrow for some fresh air. ‘Do you good to get out of that room,’ she urged. She turned to Gilly and her eyes brightened. ‘Why don’t you bundle up the babies tomorrow and you and Miz Pio can come up to my place for the afternoon. It’s nice and quiet up there, and no one will bother us.’ She thumped her thick walking stick on the ground as if to emphasize her point.

‘We’ll do that,’ answered Pio, looking forward to getting away from the Inn for a bit. ‘Gilly and I will bring a basket of Cook’s pastries, and you can set the kettle to boiling and make us a pot of your lemon verbena tea.’

Pio bent down and gave her friend a quick hug. Then helped her up to the cart seat and handed her the reins. ‘Tomorrow, then,’ she said, smiling and waving her off.

‘I could use another snack, Gilly. What say we let Cook and Prim hold the babies for a while and we go raid the kitchen!’

[ May 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post

1 Cermie

Maura sat at one of the tables in the rear courtyard of the Inn, as he struggled to explain to his sister Zira and her husband Ban why he would not be returning to their home on Tol Fuin. It was the first time that he’d talked to them about the decision he and Cami had made.

His announcement did not come as a total surprise. For some time, Zira had suspected that her brother would not agree to separate from Cami again. The situation had become more complicated than when they’d first given their word to Ancalimon in the prison camps of Dorthonion. Cami’s pregnancy, coupled with Maura’s continuing affection for Rose, and his growing friendship with the boys, had placed the hobbit in the uncomfortable position of feeling that he was shirking his responsibilities both as a husband and father. All the fine words of the Istari about rips in the fabric of time and the need for sacrifice paled before the reality of little eyes looking up to him and asking for help .

Zira knew that Lindo could easily serve as Loremaster and Bard for the Tol Fuin community. Indeed, the younger hobbit possessed a gift of song that went far beyond her brother’s. Their neighbors on Tol Fuin had settled into a quiet, peaceful existence. The hobbits’ lives centered on the rearing of crops and a firm determination to pass on their lore and values to their children. Since the sinking of Beleriand, they had not faced serious outside threats other than the normal hazards of living in Arda, a world where shadows could sometimes lurk on even the brightest days. But she also knew that many on the isle would miss Maura's gentle ways as a teacher and storyteller and friend to Ancalimon. And none would mourn his absence more profoundly than she would, since they’d always been so close.

Looking over at her brother, she placed her hand on top of his, and asked, “Are you sure about this? Sure that this is the right thing to do?”

He shook his head and shrugged, “Sure? I’m not sure about anything. But it’s against my whole nature to walk away from those children and pretend they don’t existence. Cami has provided a home for the boys, but it hasn’t been easy. She’s given and given of her heart and labor, yet they still pull away. There are things in the boys’ past I don’t understand. There may always be problems, yet Gamba definitely feels more comfortable with me as a man than he does with his mother. Even Cami understands that.”

“But that’s not all. There’s a baby on the way. I’m responsible for a new life. I just can’t believe that the powers over Arda want me to forget that.”

Zira looked into her brother’s eyes. She saw uncertainty, but she also glimpsed a grim determination on his part to see the situation through to the end, whatever the cost. She stared intently at him and responded, “If you’ve weighed everything and still feel this is right, you must follow that path, even if it leads you away from me.” The brother and sister embraced and then sat talking quietly of their childhood and things they remembered from days gone by.


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


Cami had returned to the burrow, after belatedly remembering to give the treasured flask to her friend. She now sat alone near the window, thinking how hard it must be for Maura to speak with his sister and tell her that they might never meet in this life again. The afternoon sun sank low, as she stared blankly across the pond. On her lap lay a darning needle and thread, and one of her husband's shirts she'd been trying to patch. She pushed aside her worries to focus on the immediate task. Her needle flicked quickly in and out until the hole got smaller and disappeared. Then she held the shirt up to the fading sunlight still filtering through the window to make certain it was properly mended.

Just then, she heard a loud, insistent knock. Rising from her seat and unlatching the door, she discovered Bilbo and Frodo waiting outside. Bilbo tipped his hat and wished her a pleasant evening, inquiring if Maura was in. Frodo explained that they intended to visit Bag-end tomorrow and speak with Sam about the celebration planned to welcome Pio's twins. They had wondered if Maura might want to join them.

“For certain,” Cami responded. “And not just him. I need to speak with Miz Rose about the plans for our handfasting.”

After settling on arrangements to meet at the Gamgees, she insisted they stay for tea. Bilbo looked older and more tired than Cami had remembered from before. She set him gently down on the most comfortable chair in the burrow, and placed a warm pot of honeyed tea and scones between the three of them.

As weary as he was, Bilbo could not resist several good-natured jabs at Cami, "So you’re finally going to do it. We were about to place bets on whether you intended to go through with any of this. It's taken you long enough to get around to a public exchange of vows. I kept thinking we'd come all this way from Tol Eressea for nothing."

Cami smothered a laugh and assured Bilbo that she intended to go through with her bargain, or at least this part of it. Bilbo said nothing for a moment, but then shot back with another barb, "So you pick and choose which promises you keep? Frodo's told me of your decision." He shook his head, "It's your choice, of course. I had hoped that Gandalf or Lorien could have done more to help the two of you. But I'm honestly not comfortable with what you’re proposing. Maybe if I was still in the Shire, I'd feel differently. But I've been in the West long enough to know better. This just won’t work."

"Promise me one thing. Just one. Promise me you'll speak with Lorien before acting."

Bilbo's eyes were so insistent and his demeanor so concerned that Cami found it hard to shrug off the request. Before the two hobbits finished their tea and left the burrow, she had agreed to hunt down Lorien and speak with him about their future plans.

[ May 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

theWhiteLady's post

Rose was delighted to see that Mith and Bird had arrived safely before her, but she was even more pleased to be greeted by the famous Butterbur. Cami had often told her of the fat innkeeper and his part in the War of the Ring, and Rose laughed to herself as she saw his voluminous figure bustling around in exactly the manner she had imagined.
“Well now, what can I do for you, little miss?” he noticed her standing uncertainly behind the counter and gave her a kindly smile.

“A room for a few night’s stay, if you please.” She replied, raising her chin to look into the man’s red face.

“Of course! I’ve got a wonderful cozy room on the first floor that will fit you just right, and if you’ll leave it here, I’ll have your bag taken up in half a moment.” Butterbur moved away with a quickness that belied his bulk.

Rose was delighted he seemed too busy to ask many questions, and after freshening up a bit, made her way into the common room for a bite to eat and perhaps a bit of local gossip that might help Mithadan and Bird. The room was dim with smoke emerging in blue and grey curls from the pipes of many of the hobbits and men gathered, a larger crowd than Rose had expected. A very obvious division seemed to be made between the two kindred; the men were gathered together by the bar while the hobbits huddled around smaller tables near the hearth in which a small fire blazed, only adding to the stifling atmosphere of the room. Rose wished only to be back in her room, snuggling under the cool covers but her mission, and her stomach forced her feet in the opposite direction, and she was soon surrounded by the local hobbit folk who questioned her most enthusiastically about news from the Shire. Word of the kidnappings had reached the inn, and many dark looks were shot towards the men talking loudly at the bar as Rose spoke of the most recent disappearance of Fosco, careful not to mention any names.

“I”ve heard tell that the trail seemed to lead up this way,” she whispered, her curly head leaning in close to the circle of listeners. A few older hobbits nodded sagely, and one spoke out. “It’s this Bill Ferny.” he spoke bitterly. “Every since he’s come back, none of us have had a moments peace. Everyone knows he hates us, since his great hopes were scattered in the War. Some say he’ll do anything to get his revenge.”

“And now a lot of strange big folk have been seen around Bree, some asking where his plantation is.” Another red-haired hobbit spoke out in a louder tone. “Why, one of them came in today asking questions, and he didn’t look, nor smell, none too fair either. Had a young lady with him that gave a me look fit to fry! They weren’t up to no good, I can tell you that right now.”

“Now then, Toman, not all the big folk are mean; sometimes it’s just hard to separate the good ones from the bad ones.” The first hobbit had turned back to address Rose now. “You’d just best be careful with whom you talk, but if you stick with us, we’ll make sure no harm comes to you while you stay here.”

Rose smiled and thanked her new companions for the offer before retiring back to her room. It was late, and she had walked the whole day. It sounded like Mith and Bird had got the information they needed, and right now, all she needed was a good night’s rest on a real bed. Which is, of course, just what she got.

[ May 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Child's post

Cami had decided to search out Lorien on her own as Bilbo had suggested. She’d heard from Pio that the Vala could sometimes be found walking near the pond or in the gardens of the Inn during the cool nightime hours after most folk had retired to their beds. A quick look outside her burrow failed to turn up any sign of the Vala, so she continued down the path that ran towards the back of the Inn.

There was a hint of moisture in the air as if it might suddenly rain. With that possibility in mind, she scurried forward more quickly until she came within sight of the hedge that bordered the Dragon on the north, encircling its garden and courtyard. Pulling the small wooden gate outward, she slipped inside and peered about the gardens. She immediately caught sight of him. He was perched on top of a table, his face tilted back as he stared up at the stars with an expression of resignation on his face.

She stumbled up to him wondering what she could possibly say that would explain how she felt and why she and Maura had chosen to do this thing, which had been expressly forbidden to them. Pio always seemed so cool and composed in the presence of the immortals. With Cami, it was different. She felt like a little girl who’d slipped inside a room where she wasn’t supposed to be and was expecting to be tossed out at any minute. Cami opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped by a buzzing within her head.

There’s no need to explain. I’ve been watching. I know what you plan to do, and why the two of you think you’re right. As far as I can see, we have nothing to discuss. You knew the rules under which you came. If you choose to bend or break them, there is nothing I can do.”

He turned away and began to walk off, but she immediately chased after him. Cami had been anticipating several possible responses from the Vala. She’d considered that he might try and reason with her, or become enraged, or even threaten her with physical harm. The one thing she had not expected was this abrupt dismissal, as if she was too small and unimportant to count.

She turned to him with anger spilling over, “This is my life. It’s all I have. We’re trying to do our best, Maura and I. Why can’t you help? Why won’t you even listen to me?”

He looked over at her with a glint of compassion in his eye. I’m sorry, but I can’t. My province is that of dreams. I have done all that I can. I can not change the rules of the universe because I see a woman weeping. Believe me, I have seen many in my time, and I cannot help you, any more than I could help them, even though it may grieve us both.

Cami stumbled over the meaning of his words and felt horribly afraid, “Then Maura and I are on our own? Completely on our own? We can only guess at the right answer.” She remembered Elessar’s confident assertion that the path of right was always straight and true, clear and unchanging to all those who sought it with a good heart. Yet it did not always seem that way to her. Sometimes things seemed very clouded, and she had no idea which way to turn.

Lorien turned to Cami once more, and spoke. This time he used the words of Men so that she would understand exactly what he was saying. “You must make your own decision. I can not tell you what will happen if you break the pledge you made. But remember that you and Maura and your children are not the only ones involved. Gandalf and Bilbo gave their word to the Valar that you could deal with this situation. That the two of you would come here for a moment, and each return to your own Age. It was only because of this promise that we agreed to go ahead. Now you want to change the rules. Be forewarned. Whatever choice you make falls at least partially on the heads of Bilbo and Gandalf as well as your own.”

Without elaborating any further, Lorien reflected that a portion of the responsibility also fell on his own head, since he had heard Gandalf’s words and accepted them as wisdom. Perhaps they had all been wrong.

As Lorien abruptly stalked out the courtyard towards the open road, Cami found herself trembling. But, whether from anger or fear, she did not know. She leaned against the tree and began to cry. It was then that she heard the familiar strains of a lullabye softly coming from around the corner. Cami pushed the gate open and hurriedly scrambled towards the front of the Inn, where she found the Elf sitting on the porch with one of the twins nestled gently in her arms.

Cami hurled her body down on the steps, holding her head in her hands and sobbing, “I can’t do this any more. Whichever way I chose, I hurt someone I love. Why does life have to be this hard?”

Her words came spilling out in torrents as she confided to Pio what had happened and the stern message from the Vala. Cami looked at her friend, knowing that the Elf felt no great affection for Lorien, and wondered what she would say.

[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

2 Cermië - just after midnight

‘Look, little wing, the Burning Briar shines bright in the northern skies tonight.’ It was well past midnight, and Pio sat on the steps of the Inn, her daughter lying along her lap. The little one’s grey eyes were open, gazing solemnly upward at her mother’s face.

Pio could see the constellations reflected in the clear pools of her daughter’s eyes. To the east were the Netted Stars, and there just at the corner her eye was Wilwarin. The baby blinked and the stars swirled and disappeared, as the little lids fluttered gently and then closed.

‘Sleep, then,’ she whispered and tucked her into the basket beside her on the porch. Her son stirred, and Pio hoisted him to her shoulder, patting him gently on the back until he settled down again. She cradled him in the crook of her arm and crooned some rhythmic words to him, until he too fell deep into sleep as she rocked him gently.

That was how Cami found her as she scrambled through the gate and stumbled up the steps in tears. Pio put her finger to her lips, and placing her son next to his sister, she drew the distraught Hobbit away from the porch. Clasping her old friend’s hand tightly she walked with her to the nearby chairs beneath the oak tree. Pio leaned toward Cami and wiped the traces of tears from her friend’s face with her sleeve.

Cami sniffed and rubbed her nose; then, the whole story came pouring out with scarcely a breath between thoughts. Pio listened quietly, waiting for the torrent of words to come to an end. And when it did she looked at Cami closely, her face set in an unreadable expression.

‘Let me speak plainly to you, Cami Goodchild, or as plainly as I may.’

Pio leaned back in her chair and cast her mind back to their first meeting, when she had first thought to go with this strange Hobbit who so urgently wished to pursue what Pio thought then no more than a pipedream. How far had they come in friendship since then, and how close had Pio come to severing those bonds through egotistical pride and her desire to make all things right. She had learned several hard lessons along the way, the biggest of which was the natural right of creatures to make their own decisions and then deal with the consequences in their own way. She looked out into the shadows beyond the lights of the Inn, and chose her words carefully.

‘Do you remember what Ancalimon said when choices were made and one or another of us would bemoan the consequences we were sure would lead us to some unrelenting doom?’ Cami looked over at her, waiting for her to go on. ‘He always reminded us that no one can see all ends.’

‘Not even the Valar.’ She paused for just a moment, listening for the soft breathing of the sleeping babies. ‘Only Ilúvatar fully knows the fate of this world and its entangled creatures.’


‘Lorien is wrong when he speaks of the consequences that will come from your decision. He cannot tell you what they will be, because he cannot know them. And even should some of them come to be, he cannot know how those affected by them will choose to deal with them.’

‘It was wrong, too, or so I feel, for Bilbo or Gandalf to make pledges and promises for you or for Maura. None of them knew what would happen when this thread was pulled, not them, not you. Now the thread has woven itself into a different pattern, altogether. And they must choose for themselves how they will handle what comes of what has happened. That is not your task.’

Pio left her seat and crouched down in front of Cami. She placed her hand lightly on Cami’s belly. ‘This little one has chosen you for its mother and Maura for its father. Will you be more gracious than the Valar with their rule-bound gifts, and grant its need to be with both of you freely and without condition?’

‘That, at any rate, is how I see things. How I might make my choices.’ She rocked back on her heels, and held Cami’s hand to her cheek. ‘But my choices are not necessarily yours. No matter - there are no right choices or answers.'

'You are my friend, Cami. I love you. I will stand by you as you need . . .

[ May 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

2 Cermië

Cami had long gone home. Nothing had been resolved, and Pio did not expect that it would be. Cami would mull over the choices with Maura and they would make their decision as best they could. That is how decisions in the ordinary world, this ordinary life, were made.

The Valar and their rule-bound gifts! Do you think so poorly of us to say such a thing?

Lorien stepped through the gap in the hedge and approached Pio as she sat nursing her son. It was the wee hours before dawn, the sky still dark, though the stars were beginning to fade before the promise of morning’s light.

You always set people up to fail, or so it seems to me, Lorien. The Valar give with one hand, and forbid with the other. And damned and doomed are we from Eldar to earthworm because we cannot maintain a graceful, grateful balance.

Pio glanced up at the Vala’s face, clear now in the small lantern that hung from the porch beam. It was paler and more drawn than she remembered.

‘Come sit with me,’ she said in a more gentle manner, patting the well-worn boards beside her. ‘And forgive me the harshness of how my words must have sounded to you.’

He gathered up the robes round his slender frame and sat near her, his bare feet resting on the long, wide step below. ‘And yet, the thought behind those words you do not take back, do you?’

Her son, his stomach full, had drifted off to his baby dreamings once again, his little lips slack in sleep. Pio placed a folded blanket along Lorien’s lap and much to the consternation of the Master of Spirits, she settled the boy comfortably along his legs. ‘Just sway your legs gently . . . like this.’ The Vala’s knees went back and forth in a slow rhythm, prompted by a push from Pio’s hands.

Picking up her daughter, she placed her back on her own knees and rocked her, too. ‘No, my thoughts remain the same, Lorien. But you have caught me in a tired state, and they could have been given in a kinder manner.’

She watched as Lorien bent curiously over the baby, one finger exploring the soft hair that curled about his tiny ear, then drifting down to trace the creases in the little palm. The boy, his eyes still closed, grasped tightly the Vala’s slender fingertip. ‘Strong!’ he said softly, as the boy clung to him, then shifting in his sleep, let go.

‘Yes, they are strong in their own way, these Second Born.’ Her hand caressed her daughter’s little one.

Arda is their sphere, now, Lorien. The Elves are sailing West and will fade to some pleasant memory in time, the subjects, perhaps, of some curious and touching story. The stories of Men will be their own.She stroked her daughter’s cheek, watching as the little mouth sought the source of pressure greedily. The Flame that burns in the fëar of Men will make different choices and different paths. Do you not think so?

He was quiet, saying nothing.

Even the Valar, and the memory of them, will fade as the short-lived generations of Men pile one upon the other. That is your fate and mine, Lorien, or so I see it.’

Pio yawned widely, and sighed. ‘I am tired. I need to sleep while these little ones grant me that privilege.’ She laughed softly and placed them both in their carrying basket. Lorien stood, and offered her a hand up. He stooped to pick up the basket and carried it to her rooms, watching as she settled the babies into their cradle.

She walked him to the door. The Inn was still quiet, the only other one up was Cook, who busied herself with the early morning routine of baking, unconcerned about the workings of the world beyond her kitchen.

‘Cami and Maura are probably sleeping fitfully,’ she remarked to him as he stepped out the door, heading for his own room. ‘having spent much of the night working through the decision they must make. Cami will be, even now, worrying how her choices will affect those around her. I can feel her toss and turn in her husband’s arms. Restful sleep eluding her.’

She put her hand out and stayed him as he turned to walk up the stairs. ‘Dreams alone are your dominion, Lorien. So Cami told me were your words to her. If you cannot help her in any other way, then grant her restful ones for now. That the new day will be a little brighter for her.’

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

Child's post:

Lying curled up on her side with her head nestled on Maura's shoulder, Cami stared at the stars through the nearby open window and frantically sifted through the words that Lorien and Pio had entrusted to her, searching for some magical answer to her dilemma. But, no matter how hard she tried, she could not find a solution. The jagged edges of her thoughts kept chasing around within her brain until she somehow managed to fall into a deep, dreamless slumber, from which she did not emerge until mid-morning.

Maura had already been up for some time, tending to Holly's needs and venturing out for a short while into the meadow on the far side of the pond. He'd brought down a nice brace of coneys for lunch and set a pot of stew over the fire along with some carrots and wild onions he and the boys had collected from the day before. After eating, the two of them sat side-by-side discussing what they should do.

They managed to agree on just one thing. They would reach their final decision by nightfall, and, once that decision was made, would not question it or look back. Instead, they would push their deep concerns aside and focus on what little time they had left in the Shire. But they had yet to reach agreement on exactly what that final decision should be.

Cami had begged Maura to come up with an idea, any idea, that might offer some small measure of hope, while still enabling them to honor the promises they'd made to Ancalimon on that snowy night in Dorthonion so very long ago. She'd dismissed Lorien's pointed words about the hardship that might fall on Bilbo and Gandalf because of the promises they had made. Those offers of aid had been freely and lovingly given, but neither she nor Maura had asked for such assistance, or been consulted in any way. She could not be responsible for other people's decisions.

But the pull of friendship was another thing. Gandalf and Bilbo were close to her heart. She had enormous respect for the wizard, and considered Bilbo almost like a father. She could not simply pretend that those feelings didn't exist. Nor did she like to think of herself as a person who backed out of promises just because conditions had changed and made them more difficult to carry out.

Cami shook her head in frustration, and looked over at Maura, reflecting, "Things seemed easier in the prison camps. Yes was yes, and no was no. I knew exactly who the enemy was."

Then she laughed, "Don't you remember the night we found Andreth's journal?" Cami nodded towards the shelf where Maura had placed the book the first night they'd come there. "How excited we were! How we poured over the words of Finrod and the Wise Woman. It seemed to be a magic answer to all the hardship of the camps."

She stopped for a moment to scan the horizon, searching for her young charge, and was not surprised to see that Holly had managed to crawl into the lowest branches of a nearby tree. Cami kept staring intently, but held back from interfering untl she finally saw the girl carefully back down and come scampering towards them again.

Maura chuckled and observed, "You watch her. You watch her all the time, but she never knows that. She just goes about her business and has no idea of how you're guarding her."

Maura's eyes opened wide as he realized what he'd said. Abruptly, he stood up and hurried over to the shelf where Andreth's journal sat. The hobbit thumbed feverishly through its pages until he came upon the passages he wanted, then quickly skimmed over them. Tucking the book under his belt, he turned again to look at his wife, "Cami, I have an idea. I saw you quietly guarding Holly, and then I thought of Andreth's journal and something else that Piosenniel said last night. It's probably foolish. No hobbit of the Third or Fourth Age would even think of such a possibility. Only someone like myself who'd lived among Elves."

Cami looked at him quizically. The only Elf she knew was Piosenniel, and Maura's words didn't seem to make any sense. His grey eyes darted back at her again, "Did you mean it yesterday when you said that Bilbo was like a father to you?"

"A father?" She stopped and reflected seriously a moment. "Yes, I meant it. He has said as much to me. If Frodo is his beloved son and heir, I am the daughter of his heart, and for that I am enormously grateful."

Maura shook his head and began impatiently walking in circles, "And a father has the right to plead for a daughter. Surely even the great powers of the world would feel that way. And especially so for hobbits who regard family as so important."

Cami scratched her head, "What are you talking about? I don't understand a word you're saying."

"I'll explain later. I promise. I need to go to the Inn and have a talk with Frodo and Bilbo."

He gave one last glance back at her and leaned down and kissed her brown curls. "Do not despair, little one. Perhaps this thing is possible. Drop Holly off with Minta. I'll meet you at Sam's. We've a wedding and a party to plan." Then he quickly ran off on the path in the direction of the Green Dragon.

For the next two hours, Maura sat closeted with Frodo and Bilbo as they poured over ancient texts. Bilbo had shot Maura a knowing look, and explained that he'd also been thinking of this for some time now.

They read over the story of Elwing, Earendil's sweet lady who flew in the guise of a snowy white bird to greet her husband's ship so the two could come together again. And especially they studied the tale of Beren and Luthien that offered some measure of comfort and hope. Some power in Arda did seem to be willing to bend the rules for those whose hearts were bound in love.

"Do you think such a plea possible?" Maura grilled Bilbo.

The older hobbit shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Possible, yes. Anything is possible. We have no certainties.
We do not even know what lies beyond. But if it is possible, I will try."

"I don't know," Maura shook his head. "Luthien was a great and beautiful lady, with the blood of the immortals in her veins. Who would consider the plea of two hobbits who are so small in the overall scheme of things?"

It was Frodo who spoke up now. "There is no deserving or earning such a gift. Not by an immortal or anyone else. There is only asking and hoping. What the Elves term estel. But without the asking, we will never know."

With that, the three hobbits quickly put their books away, heading in the direction of Sam's house to discuss party and wedding plans with renewed vigor in their hearts.

[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Nurumaiel]

"I'm hungry," Fosco grumbled. "Give me some food, you old meanie." They had untied him for the present because he had complained much too loudly for their taste about how annoying the ropes were getting, but they were still keeping a careful eye on him. Ferny unconsciously reached down and rubbed his knee.

"You won't have no food for awhile," he grumbled back. "You've already eaten half the food we've got in just this day. You sit back and shut your mouth. You're getting really annoying."

"Not as annoying as you are," Fosco shot back. "I bet you're really fat and you're just hiding it. I bet you sneak in the middle of the night to eat up half the food. I haven't eaten hardly anything, and I bet - "

Ferny raised a hand, threatening to slap the boy, but Fosco looked evenly up at him and kept on making accusations. Bill retreated to a separate corner of the room where Stoatie was laughing and jeering. He limped still, and as he got closer to Stoatie he told him with the look on his face that if he didn't stop making fun he'd go and deal with him, sore leg or no.

The door was pushed open and another of Bill's henchmen came in, a strange smile on his face, suggesting both wicked glee and some doubt. Casting a wary eye at Fosco, who had given him a piece of his mind earlier as a result of an angry scolding, he rushed across the room to Ferny, panting and out of breath. "I've just been spying about," he said, "and I'm got myself a valuable piece of information."

"You've got me some, you mean," said Ferny with a snort. "Come on, what is it? And what do you think you were doing spying without permission from me?"

"I thought it would be a good idea and I wanted to get away from that brat," the man muttered. "But that Elf that the brat told you about… she's had her twins, you see, and I thought you might be interested in that." He looked smugly at Ferny.

"Stoatie, come 'ere a minute," said Ferny, a strange expression coming onto his face. "What do you think would happen if those twins were to… disappear?"

A wicked look came to Stoat's face, and he grinned. "A lot of panic for the parents, I'd say."

"No, no, don't be so daft," Ferny cried. Grasping Stoatie's shoulder, he looked straight into the other's eyes. "Listen here, Old Stoat. I'm not here to capture a bunch of brats and make their parents cry. I'm here for one purpose: To get Frodo Baggins. I want you to tell me what he would think of the business."

"Wouldn't like it too much, I suppose," he said uncertainly.

"Would it affect him personally?"

"Well, it would be a blow to the parents, and in that case it would hurt maybe the brat's mother, and then it would hurt Bilbo Baggins, and then it would hurt Frodo." He stopped and looked up at Ferny. "I think Baggins would be affected by it."

"Do you know what I want you to do?" Ferny asked. Unbeknownst to him Fosco had crept through the shadows and was now standing behind the two.

"Kidnap the twins?"

"And bring them back here as fast as you can."

"Now?"

"No, wait. We have to do some more spying and make sure we do this right." He made a significant pause, then said sternly, "This is important."

"Don't worry, Ferny," Stoat said wickedly. "Those two kids can say goodbye to their parents."

"Don't touch those babies!" came the bloodcurdling scream, and Ferny and Stoat suddenly felt that they were saying goodbye to their legs, which were being kicked, bitten, and hurt in every other way possible.

"Get him!" Ferny gasped. "Get the brat. Tie him up! QUICK!!!" But the rest never got up enough courage to stop Fosco before Ferny and Stoat were both covered with bruises and the little hobbit decided they'd be extremely stupid to go after the babies after the lesson he'd given them. Retreating to his side of the room, he shouted to them he'd do it again if they ever mentioned kidnapping the babies, and that they weren't smart enough too, anyway. Ferny lay on the ground, his legs too bruised to stand up, and he muttered in Stoatie's direction, "I'm going to get those babies if it's the last thing I do… just to prove to that brat that he's wrong."

[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Orual]

The sun streamed in through the windows of Bag End, where Sam, Rose, Bilbo, Cami, and Maura sat around the table in the den. "Of course we'll host the party," Sam said. He glanced at Rose, and he could see in her eyes and in the way she was suddenly glancing around the room that she was already making plans for the festivities. "We can have a welcoming ceremony for Piosenniel's twins, then we can have the wedding."

"Cami, what would you like for the wedding?" Rose asked, turning slowly in her chair. It was becoming more and more difficult, and she was looking forward to her own little one coming.

"Something simple," Cami replied. "Maybe an exchange of vows in the garden."

"Do you have a dress to wear?" Rose asked, obviously going over all of the possible dresses that she knew of, in case Cami did not.

Cami smiled. "I have a green and yellow dress that used to belong to Bilbo's mother, so that's taken care of."

"Good, good. Now the dinner? Shall we have it catered from somewhere? I know of a couple of places, but the best place I know of is a little far away. We could get word there, but we'd have to do it soon."

Cami looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, I'd prefer
something of a pot-luck. Everyone could bring a dish. We wouldn't have to go out of our way to get the catering done, and it always tastes better from home, doesn't it?"

Rose nodded approvingly. "That would be wonderful. And Sam, you'll bring the register, won't you?"

"Of course," Sam replied, looking up from his own conversation with Bilbo and Maura. "I'll bring it here and you and Maura can sign it, Cami. That can come whenever you wish--just a little civil ceremony."

Rose smiled at Cami. "We want this to be perfect for the two of you. Now, let's talk about flowers. What kind of flowers do you like best?..."


Child's post

Rose had taken Cami on a short stroll through the garden to point out some of the flowers they might consider using. To Cami, the gardens at Bag-end looked much the same as they had when she was a child. She remembered helping Sam clean out the beds a few times, and getting a stern reprimand from her friend for managing to pull out the flowers instead of the weeds.

She and Rose chatted back and forth until they finally reached agreement on what they would use for the party. The selection of flowers was considered a serious matter among most hobbit brides. Some even argued that a couple's future happiness was dependent upon the choices they made. It was not only the beauty of the blossoms that needed to be kept in mind, but what every flower symbolized or meant.

Cami would take her vows under the old wicker trellis at the side of the house where white and red roses grew intertwined. These traditional blossoms were seen as a harbinger of unity and marital love. At the tables in the garden where folk would sit to eat, Rose would set out small pots with primroses and wood sorrell in honor of the birth of the twins and the love that Pio bore for them. Finally, on the larger table inside where the food would be placed, they'd have an arrangment with branches of white hawthorne, the universal representation of hope. Cami's own bouquet would be simple and small, a few blue and yellow violets tied with a ribbon to symbolize faithfulness and the sweetness of a life spent in the countryside.

When Cami and Rose finally finished their tour of the garden and all their deliberations, Maura and the others came out of the house and indicated they were ready to leave. The hobbits said their goodbyes, thanking Sam and his family, and set out on the return path to Bywater, promising to meet again at Bag-end for the party in just six days' time.

[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

2 Cermië

Night or day made no difference to the twins. Their little lives and hers were ruled by hunger and comfort sandwiched between short periods of sleep. ‘The baby’s schedule is the mother’s schedule,’ she recalled Cook telling her. She had not understood then, but now the truth of it penetrated deeply her weary bones.

Gilly rose early and took the babies from their cradle. They fussed as she picked them up and put them in their carry basket, but settled down comfortably, nestling in close together. She took them into the kitchen, where Prim and Buttercup promptly snatched up one each, holding them close and breathing in their sweet, new baby smell.

‘We’re going to Amaranthas’ house today. Their first outing. I thought I’d let Mistress Piosenniel sleep a little longer while I got them washed up a bit and changed and ready to go.’

‘Ooh, let me help,’ chimed in Buttercup, handing the girl back to Gilly. ‘I'll get the dishpan ready and we’ll get them squeaky clean.’ Warm water, tested by the elbow method filled the shallow pan, a soft towel cushioning the metal bottom. The babies were quickly stripped and hurried into the warm water. Washed with sweet smelling soap and gently laved with water, they took the process in solemnly, seeming to enjoy the touch of water and soft hands on their skin. From the bath they were quickly swaddled in thick towels and dried thoroughly.

Gilly produced two outfits that Amaranthas had made and soft booties knitted by Cami. Buttercup smoothed the damp, dark curls into place, and wrapped each lightly in a little blanket. By then the twins were fully awake and actively looking for the next meal. They began to cry softly and then a little louder, and more insistently.

Cook dipped the ends of two thick kitchen towels into some sweetened water and popped one each into the expectant baby mouths. Satisfied, at least for a moment, the little ones settled in to suck on the sweet offering.

‘Go wake Miz Pio, and tell her to take her time getting ready. We’ll keep the wee ones satisfied until she’s ready to take over.’ Cook cradled the boy in her arms and rocked gently back and forth as she piled a small plate with fruited muffins and cheese, placing it on a tray with a large mug of sweetened tea. ‘Here, take this to her and tell her to eat up. We’ll get Hob to get the cart hitched up for you.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Pio smiled as she stepped into the kitchen. The four Hobbits were completely wrapped up in vying for the right to hold the babies next. Gilly, knowing she would have them the rest of the day, had ceded her turn to Buttercup, who grinned from ear to ear as she examined the little creature on her lap, and kissed each of her fingertips. Prim had wrested the boy from Cook, who hovered nearby, nonetheless, her hands aching to take him back. ‘There’s just something about holding a baby,’ said Cook, a remarkably soft look on her face. ‘You just can’t get enough of it.’

The four turned as Pio cleared her throat, drawing their attention to her presence. Prim sighed and looked wistful as she reluctantly handed the baby to his mother. ‘You’ve been so kind to let me sleep in a little, Prim. Let me nurse him a little, then you can have him back while his sister eats.’ Prim brightened at this prospect, but her hopes were dashed when Cook reminded her it was her turn to hold him.

Buttercup nudged Gilly, and leaning close, whispered in her ear. ‘Pio should have had three babies – one for each of us to hold!’

Pio laughed and shook her head at the remark. ‘Two babies is quite enough, Buttercup!’ She handed the boy, his hunger now satisfied, back to Cook, and reached for the girl.

[ May 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

2 Cermië

‘Let Elanor and Rose keep Gilly company for now, Pio.’ Amaranthas handed the Elf a glass of cool cider, drawing her attention away from where the Sam’s two girls vied for a turn to hold the babies. ‘I’ve heard some news from the Boffin boys I wanted to talk about with you.’

The three ‘boys’, as she referred to them – Minto, now thirty-five years of age, and his two barely younger brothers had just come back from one of their twice a year trips to Bree-land. ‘Picking up a prize brood sow to pair with their boar, I think. Should have some fine hams and bacon come from that.’ While there, they had gone to The Prancing Pony to stay the night and catch up on local news.

‘It was odd, this time they said. They hadn’t been to the Pony in a good six months. It was different, or so it seemed to them. Not a lot of mingling between the Hobbit folk and the Big Folk. The Bree Hobbits talked in hushed tones about an increase in traffic through the area – scruffy men with an ill-favored look about them. Many of them seeking to join up with one of the Big Folk, one Bill Ferny.’

Pio looked questioningly at Amaranthas. ‘Bill Ferny? You speak as if you know of him?’

‘He’s a bad one, that shifty-eyed ruffian! A mean Man of the worst sort. Got involved during the Big War with that Sharkey fellow. Worked for him at one time as the warden for the Buckland Gate. His poxy thoughts have been festering ever since old Sharkey’s fellows were taken care of by the Hobbits here in the Shire. Ferny’s hated us Shire folk ever since is my opinion, and now he’s got something nasty going to get back at us. The Minto boys say it’s the general opinion among the Bree Hobbits that Ferny’s got his hand deep into these kidnappings and trouble making.’

‘How dangerous is he?’ Pio leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she waited for Amaranthas’ answer.

‘By my books, he’s a schemer mostly, wants power and uses others to get it for him.’ Amaranthas sat back, taking a long drink of cider to freshen her dry throat. ‘He’s a weasely sort, I think. He’d be more likely to get some low sorts, muscle bound oafs with straw for brains, to do his dirty work for him. Though if need be, I think he could do in whoever stood in his way.’ Pio rubbed the back of her neck at the picture Amaranthas was painting for her. She willed herself to relax, knowing that Bird and Mithadan would be as careful as they could.

The twins could be heard fussing, despite the rocking and cooing the two girls were doing for them. Pio motioned Gilly to bring them to her – it was probably time for a feed and a rest.

She turned the conversation to a lighter subject as she nursed the babies. Amaranthas, as well as Elanor and Rose were happy to fill her in on what they new of the party that was in the works. Rose, especially, was a never ending source of information. With her charming demeanor, she was often innocently overlooked, and her little ears took in many conversations and idle comments. She loved to gossip and share what she had learned, and it was quite funny at times the way she presented her information – having misheard or misunderstood what she listened in on.

Late afternoon saw Frodo lad come to fetch his sisters. Miz Rose wanted her chicks home before even a hint of darkness fell. Safe and snug in their own burrow. Beyond the reach of any who might seek to do them harm.

Gilly and Pio stayed with Amaranthas for an early supper. And though she insisted she needed no help, they stayed to help her wash up and dry the dishes.

‘You know, Amaranthas,’ said Pio, crying the last of the mugs and placing it in the cupboard with its fellows, ‘I am not sure I will come to the party. It will be a long affair and the babies will be fussy, and I will start yawning just before noon, my eyes drooping and my interest flagging.’ She folded the dish towel, and hung it over the bar on the edge of the counter. ‘Perhaps I should just send Gilly to accompany you.’

Amaranthas told Pio that was the most harebrained idea she’d heard all day. ‘Of course you’re coming to the party,’ she said firmly to the Elf. ‘And when you and the babies are tired, you can all come over to my house and nap as long as you wish. It’s only a short walk to Sam’s, and you simply cannot miss your friends’ public exchange of vows. Not to mention all the people who will want to see your little ones.’

Gilly chimed in with how she wouldn’t mind bringing the twins to Amaranthas' if they got too tired, telling Pio it would be no trouble at all to watch over them and bring them back when they were rested.

Pio laughed, knowing when she was beaten, and relented. ‘We will all come, then!’ She gave Amaranthas a hug and gathering up her children loaded them and herself into the cart, letting Gilly take the reins and get them back to the Inn..

[ May 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami watched slyly from behind a tree as Gilly unhitched the pony and led him forward to the stables. She remained hidden while Pio stepped down from the wagon with one child cradled in her arms and the other tucked securely in a sling. She could see the Elf pass through the common room, nod her head in Cook's direction, and continue towards her own bedchamber, clearly intent on snatching a few moments of rest.

Before Pio could shut the door or lie down on her bed, Cami came bounding up with an impish expression on her face, "I heard that, Piosenniel. Threatening to stay away from the party and not even see me properly wed. You're in trouble! I'll get those ill-natured hobbits who have no love for the Big Folk to come and sit outside your window and sing rowdy bar tunes to keep the babies awake all night."

Cami painted a mock scowl on her face, struggling to keep from breaking down in laughter. Then she explained how they'd just left Bag-end and passed by Amaranthas' place on their way back to the Inn. The hobbit pointed an accusing finger at her friend. "If you go announcing your plans at the top of your lungs, don't be surprised when everyone in the Shire hears what you;re doing. And just so you understand. I'll personally drag you over to the party if you dare to stay behind."

"By the way," she continued, without pausing to take a breath, "I hope you haven't included Lorien on your guest list. I'd just as soon avoid him for a while." Cami looked down at her toes, then peered cautiously back at Pio, expecting that the Elf would invite her to explain. When Pio cocked one eyebrow and glanced curiously at Cami, the hobbit lowered her voice and moved closer to her friend.

"Actually, we have decided." With this, she told about Maura's visit to Frodo and Bilbo, and how her teacher had agreed to bring her plea forward to be heard within the very hall of Mandos, and perhaps, just perhaps, even far beyond, since the Valar themselves seemed powerless to help.

"Of course, we don't know what's possible." Cami stared out the window at the vast blue expanse that encircled the shores of Arda, as if she expected someone to appear who would provide the answer she so desperately desired.

Then she shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "Perhaps nothing. I scarcely look or act like Luthien, and I have no special merits for such a gift. I expect Maura and I will end up just where we started. Apart and grieving. But still, it's something to cling to for a while."

"Perhaps if I were different...." Cami's voice trailed off into wistful silence as she glanced over at her friend. Perhaps, I would be certain of myself, able to act out of love, but without nagging thoughts on what came before. But I can not, and neither can my husband. Yes, the child tugs at our hearts, even now. But he is a gift. A gift that comes from somewhere beyond our small knowing. And wherever that gift comes from, I owe some debt of gratitude. I can not fling aside my word which I gave in all solemnity.

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.

"But now, enough of that. We have a party to prepare." Then Cami set aside these other concerns and cheerfully launched into an extended discussion about her flowers and dress and how everyone, even Piosenniel, would be expected to bring one of their favorite dishes to share with the other guests at Bag-end.

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

[Mithadan]

Mithadan and Bird packed their things and took to the road a day after arriving in Bree. After some inquiries, they determined that Ferny's plantation lay outside Bree's fence to the south and east of Bree-Hill. They passed quickly through the town and exited by the east Gate keeping to the road initially. Though there would likely be a cart path to the plantation, they chose to leave the road to do some scouting about.

"You didn't shave," commented Bird as they walked. "I'd think that you'd take advantage of the Pony's amenities before leaving."

Mithadan rubbed at his emerging beard. "A few days growth makes me appear a bit more rascally, don't you think?" he answered. "And remember, Fosco and I met at the dinner party, if only briefly. I'd rather have the slight disguise of a beard if I run into the lad."

They soon approached farmlands where various crops were being grown. They skirted around the fences encircling the farms to avoid any uneeded contact with the locals or their dogs. After passing a number of farms, they encountered a taller, well-built fence behind which were planted broad-leafed and aromatic crops. Mithadan did not recognize the plants but Bird did. "Pipeweed," she said. "Looks to be of fair quality, though not as good as that of the Shire."

This farm was larger than most they had passed and they could see a number of people, all Men, working in the fields. "This may be it," said Mithadan. "The road must be to the east on the north side of the plantation. Shall we take a look about before we present ourselves at the front gate?" Bird nodded.

Finding a spot where the fence posts had become rotten, they pulled the boards out and entered. Keeping to the perimeter of the farm, they headed off towards the south. It appeared that Ferny's plantation covered several acres. Eventually the crops gave way to bare ground and they halted at the fringe. Before them were a series of shacks and sheds, likely for the keeping of tools and supplies. At least one appeared to be occupied. They could not approach these buildings in the daylight without being seen so they turned back.

After an hour's walk, they were nearing the gap they had created in the fence when they heard barking to their right. Two large dogs burst out from the plant-covered fields, followed by three Men carrying cudgels. Mithadan and Bird stopped but made no move to defend themselves. "Trespassers!" snarled one of the Men. "Ferny doesn't care for strangers on his fields."

Mithadan smiled, though one of the dogs was sniffing suspiciously at him. "Ferny you say?" he said. "We're looking for a Mister Ferny. We're looking for work and were told he might take us on."

"People looking for work would normally enter through the front gate rather than climbing a fence, now wouldn't they?" growled another. He pointed at Mithadan's sword. "Now take off that pretty sticker and hand it over. If you want Ferny, you'll see him soon enough, though I'll warrant that he might not give you the reception you're looking for."

Mithadan removed his scabbard from his belt and handed his sword over. But he grinned again. "There you go," he said. "We didn't mean no harm. Just thought Ferny might have some use for us...and maybe that." He pointed to the blade being held by Ferny's Men. "Let's go! Take us to Mister Ferny..."

[Nurumaiel]

Ferny's men eyed the two suspiciously, glancing at each other now and then. "I don't think we can do that," one of them spoke up. "Ferny never told us he had hired two new men."

"And if he didn't hire you, then you have no business being here!" the other practically shouted.

"That's very true!" the first shouted, and they began arguing with no one, it seemed, for Mithadan and Bird didn't reply until the henchmen's voices began to grow hoarse.

"What if he did hire us?"

The two stopped talking and looked at each other. "Well..." It was clear that they were confused now. It was also clear that Ferny hadn't chosen the brightest of his men to be on watch. They stared at each other stupidly and stared at the two intruders, unsure of what to say.

"Why don't you just let us see Ferny?" Mithadan asked patiently.

"You can't just barge in!" the second of the men shouted, though nobody was barging in.

The door to the house opened and Stoatie came out, limping terribly and his face red with rage. "Stop screaming out there, would you?" he shouted. "The brat has gone to sleep and at last things are starting to be peaceful." For the first time he noticed Mithadan and Bird. "Who are these two?" he asked warily, advancing.

"I don't know, but they want to work for Ferny. What should we do about them?"

[ May 16, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[ May 21, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[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.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami was singing cheerfully to herself as she bustled about the small kitchen in the burrow. Her hands moved deftly over her work as she set the final touches on a fine array of deserts and main dishes, some of which she'd prepared for the picnic and others for the needs of her own family. She had two buttermilk pies cooling on the ledge and four loaves of egg bread piled up on the table, each braided into an intricate circular design.

She carefully crimped the crusts, then began deboning and cutting up the venison for two additional meat pies. She halted for a moment as the cadence of two familiar voices caught her ear, wafting in through the open window. She set down the butcher's knife and glanced up to see Maura push open the door and come over to greet her with a warm hug. Frodo walked in directly behind him, carrying several bags of tasty nut-brown field-mushrooms that Gamba and his brothers had collected earlier in the morning when they'd gone walking in the woods.

Cami held out one knife for Maura and another for Frodo and had the hobbits start cleaning and chopping the mushrooms. In very short order, the two finished their job so that Cami was able to put together the ingredients for the last of her pies, popping them into the oven and sitting down to rest.

"I should run down to the Inn. Please remember to take out the pies for dinner," she instructed. Every afternoon, Cami visited the Dragon to play with the twins and find out if Pio had heard anything more about what had happened to her daughter, as well as to Bird and Mithadan. Usually, there was little news, but Cami was careful to check just in case her friend picked up any information through osanwe or the loose tongues of visitors who were staying at the Inn.

Maura turned and grinned broadly, "I'd wait on that if I were you. Frodo and I went by the kitchens. Your friend looked as if she was being tortured. She'd apparently been at it for some time, and was having trouble coming up with a dish that met Cook's exacting standards."

Cami looked concerned and shook her head. She could never understand why someone like Pio who was so competent at so many things, and had tremendous gifts of organization, would have such difficulty when it came to simple chores like baking and cooking. Cami remembered the one or two occasions when Pio had actually prepared supper on the Star. Most of the crew had ended up dumping their plates into the trash cans and scavenging about in the kitchens later in the evening for more food. Like most hobbit girls, Cami had taken in these skills at her mother's knee even before she'd formally learned how to read or write.

"Perhaps, I'd best go help her," Cami noted.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," replied Maura. "She might not like admitting she needs help."

Cami shrugged off her husband's concerns and decided to see if her friend could use some assistance. As she headed out the door, Cami could vaguely hear the thwack of wood-on-wood coming from behind the burrow as Frodo and Maura dueled with practice swords. For the past few days, Maura had taught Frodo a number of tricks in swordplay as well as sharing hints on how to creep up on an opponent to surprise him.

At heart, Frodo Baggins still hated to handle weapons. Even so, Cami could sense that he'd decided it was better to be prepared for any eventuality. The kidnappings in the Shire and the continuing rumors about evil Big Folks on the loose were clearly on his mind.

Neither had Cami forgotten the threat that hung over all their heads. She'd been careful to keep the children closer to her than usual, and lectured Gamba on the need for caution and restraint. She'd also put in more time on weapons' practice than she'd ever done before. Maura had been insistent that she learn to handle a knife as well as the bow. When she pressed him for an explanation, he had skillfully changed their topic of conversation. The bandits were certainly part of the puzzle, but Cami thought there might be something else involved that he wasn't revealing to her.

After hours of additional practice, Cami found that her ability to defend herself with a bow and knife was indeed improving. She would never reach the level of skill of someone like her own daughter Rose, but she'd gotten to the point where Maura had begun pressing her to learn to use a sword. When she'd groaned and stubbornly refused, he had flashed her a stern eye and a quiet warning, "Have it your own way for now, but, one way or another, I'll get you to do this."

She'd tried to press him again for an explanation, but he only stared at Holly, refusing to say anything further. Cami was still trying to puzzle out his behavior when she arrived at the Inn and got her first glimpse of Pio hard at work in the kitchen, buried under a mountain of flour.

[ May 16, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

4 Cermië

Cook pinched the bridge of her nose, shut her eyes, and gave a barely audible sigh. Where did I put the willow-bark powder?’ she thought, her hand straying up to rub her temples.

The second pie was turning out no better than the first. The Elf’s thoughts had strayed after a short time to Bree and what Mithadan, Bird, and Rose were doing there. All thoughts of pie making fled as she attempted to contact Bird or Mithadan and found she could not. Which meant in her mind they had made contact and were busy, or something worse had happened. She turned her thoughts away from that dark path, only to find she had added far too many cups of flour to the dough, and the sorry mess was beyond recouping.

Pio sat down in the kitchen chair near her and shrugged up at Cook. ‘I give up! I have been bested by flour and butter. The good folk at Cami’s party will simply have to eat an offering of berries unadorned!’ She could hear Cook muttering in the pantry as she searched for the headache powder, ‘Well, I suppose she can’t muck up plain fruit, too much!’

A soft giggle came from the open door. Pio glanced up through the still settling haze of flour. ‘Get in here, Cami Goodchild, or should I say Cami Took, now. Seems more fitting.’ Cami’s cheeks crimsoned a bit as she stepped forward, and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the messy table-top. ‘Lost a battle, Elf?’ she said, barely stifling another chuckle. Pio tossed a rag to her and pushed the garbage bucket close under the table’s edge.

The flour and macerated dough were scraped from the table top and the last of the tenacious residue thoroughly washed off. Pio threw some tea leaves in a pot and filled it with water, just off the boil. ‘See! I can cook!’ she said smugly. Cami rolled her eyes and said nothing.

Two clean mugs later, a pot of honey, and a plate of the ‘just-in-case’ cookies, the two old friends were sitting happily at the table, sharing what little news they had.

‘I know you would like to hear something about Rose. But I have not been able to contact Mithadan, much less Bird.’ An image of Bird with her fingers stuck in her ears, in hopes of blocking out the Elf, played in her mind for a moment, bringing a smile to her lips. ‘I am relying on no news being good news at this point.’

Cami looked at her doubtfully, behind the matter-of-fact words she heard a brief shadow of doubt. She was about to ask a question to pursue the matter when Gilly arrived with the babies.

‘Oh good! I hoped I would find you here. I promised Sam that I would help Elanor with some of the preparations for the party. You two can handle the twins for a couple of hours. I should be back by then.’ Gilly handed one each to the pair at the table and rushed out the kitchen door to the stable.

Cami’s news was filled mostly with plans for the party. She was and rambled on happily for a long space of time. Pio tried to match her level of enthusiasm to her friend’s, but failed. She listened with half an ear as Cami talked, her thoughts twisting with plans of her own and with worry.

It was some time before she realized that Cami had quit speaking and was sitting across the table from her, an exasperated look on her face.

‘You look as gloomy as Maura today. All worried and distracted from what is going on around you.’ Cami looked closely at her friend. ‘A Shire penny for your real thoughts.’

‘Better – a penny for your thoughts, Cami. Why is Maura so gloomy?’

Once the Elf had turned the conversation, Cami knew it was futile to try to refocus it. She shrugged her shoulders and spoke how intent he was on having her learn the use of weapons. He had pushed her to better herself with bow and knife, and she had done so, reluctantly. She had dug her heels in, though, at the mention of learning to use a sword.

Pio’s eyes brightened at the words ‘learning to use a sword’. Finally, here was a skill she could help with. She topped off her friends cup of tea and pushed the cookies toward her.

‘You know, Cami, both Mithadan and I have urged you to learn the use of a blade other than your knife. Now Maura is urging you to do so. Save me from another round with unforgiving pie crusts, and let us take the babies out for some fresh air while I show you a few basics.’

Cami opened her mouth to speak, but Pio settled the other baby in her arms and ran to find a suitably sized blade. Cook, noting that Pio was well out of earshot, cast a pleading look at Cami.

‘Please! Do take the Elf outside with you. Let her do something she is good at. My flour supply cannot stand another assault today.’ Her eyes gleamed with decision. ‘You occupy her for the rest of the afternoon, and I will make my Gran’s secret recipe for your and Maura’s hand-fasting. Layered leek and wild mushroom casserole with Old Winyards in the sauce.’

‘And some pies?’ asked Cami, driving as hard a bargain as she dared with Cook.

‘Two pies, Miz Cami, and a poppy seed cake with raspberry jam filling to boot.’ Cook looked expectantly at the reluctant Hobbit.

‘I know I’ll regret this. But you’ve got yourself a deal, Vinca Bunce!’ Cami stood, juggling the twins with one arm, and offered Cook her hand.

Pio, her own blade now in a plain leather scabbard strapped to her waist, came through the swinging doors just as the two Hobbits finalized their deal. ‘What is this? What sort of deal have you struck with Cook, Cami?’

A broad smile on her face, and her headache now quite evaporated in the handshake, Cook put her arm round Cami’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that Miz Cami has given her full hearted consent to an afternoon of sword practice with you. She sees the “need” for it now, and is eager to begin.’

Cook pushed Cami forward.

[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[theWhiteLady]

A cheerful sun flickered and danced playfully behind tall clouds. Rose Goodchilde watched as they passed overhead, and marveled how alike they seemed to the ship she had once called home. She was a majestic sight, soaring over the seas with a methodical pace, faster than one at first realized, but always with a powerful grace. How she longed to be held once more in the embrace of that vessel, a shield from the fickle sea, and to be a part of the crew it had carried. With everyone working together, it had seemed more like a family than a motley assortment of the most unusual characters. But, Rose thought with a sigh, everyone was now scattered, both through time and space. The time Cami and Maura had together had together weighed heavily on Rose’s thoughts of late, but she was now forced to abandon her worried reflections and concentrate on the task before her. It almost seemed a relief to be out of the way, as she saw herself, and allow them some time to be alone.

Rose had spent the day familiarizing herself with the streets of Bree; new places had always held a fascination for her, and she only faintly remembered a visit to the town when she was very young. The common room of the Inn had been quiet, so she had sought refuge in a small garden just off the side of her rooms. A quaint bench, conveniently placed by the path, seemed to be inviting the young hobbit to rest, so she had sat down gratefully and lapsed into thought.

A pair of feet plodding quietly brought Rose to attention, and she was relieved to see one of the hobbits from the night before, Toman, she though she remembered another call him, appear from behind a bright batch of sunflowers.

“Hello!” He greeted her with surprise. Rose returned the greeting and asked him to sit beside her for a moment. “Thank you,” he replied with a friendly smile. They began to talk of the weather, and after several minutes of small conversation, Rose was able to turn the conversation to the subject of the kidnappings. She remembered his words from last night, and could not risk passing up an such a perfect opportunity to learn more. After inquiring more about Ferny, her eyes began to widen as the red-haired hobbit spoke. Rose began to remember hearing his name in Cami’s tales of the War of the Ring, and Toman backed up that memory. “He was ruined after Sharkey was killed, so they say. Left town in a hurry, but came back to Bree after a few years to live quietly until now. He certainly still hates us hobbits anyway; he would have had it nice under Sharkey if the Shire hadn’t been raised against him and his ruffians. I suppose he still holds a grudge, and a nasty one at that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to get revenge, if he could figure out one person to blame for it all.”

Rose sat back, and tried to take it all in. Toman shook his head, stood, and stretched. “Still, nothing can be proved, he’s done nothing against the law, it’s really just the ways he treats us and the rumors one hears.” Shaking her curls thoughtfully, Rose got up as well and made her way back into the inn with Toman. He tried to cheer her up, mistaking her silence to be caused by worry, by offering to buy her a drink but she declined in favor of seeking her room and parted, wondering how she would reach Mithadan and Bird with this news.

[piosenniel]

4 Cermië

‘It would probably be more advantageous if you did not sigh quite so much Cami.’ Pio, her eyes glinting with mischief, looked critically at the Hobbit as Cami strapped on the extra vambraces given her. ‘Unless, of course, you mean for your foe to find some measure of concern for you and pitying you, throw down his weapons and surrender.’

Cami glared at the Elf, and pulled the straps tighter round her forearms. Pio gave her a wooden stave, the same length as the blade she had picked out for her. And pointing her own stave to a position several feet in front of her, she bade Cami take the same stance she had dropped into and raise her stave just so.

‘I will show you the proper ways to meet my advances on you and turn them. And after that, the proper ways for you to advance on me with an attack.’ Pio dipped her head slightly to Cami and the exercise began.

They worked slowly, back and forth across the Inn yard for the better part of an hour. Cami’s reflexes were good and she followed the instructions well. A short break, Cook had sent out cold drinks a plate of fruit for the two combatants, allowed Cami to regain some of her energy and Pio time to nurse to babies into a drowsy, happy state.

Snuggling the babies into their basket carrier, Pio placed them in the shade and pulled a light blanket over them. Tapping Cami on the back as she sat on the steps chewing on apple slices, she urged her friend to her feet, and threw her stave to her. ‘Let’s pick up the pace a little now.’

The back and forth sallies quickened, and the sharp crack of wood on wood could be heard beating out a rapid rhythm. Both combatants landed a fair number of blows on each other’s arms, though Cami wondered if these ‘lucky’ blows on her part were simply a ploy on the part of Pio to keep her going.

A number of patrons from the Inn had come out to lean on the porch railing, drinking their half-pints and commenting favorably on Cami’s ‘bladework’. As usual, a friendly round of wagering began, with the odds on favorite being the Elf to strike the most blows.

There was a general gasp from the crowd and then silence, when Pio announced to Cami it was time to get the feel of her steel. Again they took positions and went slowly through the paces, allowing Cami to get the heft and balance of her blade. The Hobbit soon realized that the weight of the blade was tiring her far more quickly than the lighter wood, and called a halt when her shoulders and arms burned from the strain of it.

Pio dropped the point of her blade to the ground and watched as Cami sat wearily on the steps, her sword neglected on the step below her. ‘It was a good workout, Cami. We’ll do another tomorrow.’ Cami groaned and rubbed her tired arms.

A snicker came from the crowd gathered at the end of the verandah. ‘Told ya she’d never last. Unnatural anyway. No female ought to be handling a sword. Pay up, Odo. I knew the Elf would best her.’

Willem Boffin held out his grimy hand to his cronies expecting to hear the clink of several silver pennies drop into it. Instead he watched as they backed away from him. ‘Well now, you welshing on our bet? Pay up, you . . .’ The rest of his words were cut off as the hilt of Cami’s blade met his outstretched hand.

‘Oh, they will pay up, sir. Right after you show them how good you are with a blade. You are a man, are you not?’ The tip of Pio’s blade nudged him low in the stomach. ‘And better than poor, weak, female Cami.’

Now the snickers were turned his way. And there were catcalls calling his bravery into question. Sweat broke out along his brow and his cheeks burned a dull red. Nothing to do but face the Elf in the Yard or run like some craven coward.

Cami was alarmed. She had seen that feral look in Pio’s eyes before and it did not bode well for the other Hobbit. She stood to make a protest, but Pio had already drawn him into the yard, and they were now ringed with spectators.

Pio held her sword lightly, its tip pointed toward his left shoulder. She circled, light on her feet, keeping her eyes on him as he swung his sword two handed at her. She parried his hamfisted thrusts and slashes easily, keeping a running commentary on his form, and every so often, dipping the tip of her blade in quickly, leaving a small bleeding scratch or rent in his clothing.

He grew angrier, his bladework choppier, driven more by his indignation than what small skill and brawn he possessed. Cami had pushed her way into the ring of spectators, and caught Pio’s eye. She shook her head ‘no’ hoping the Elf would relent and call the match off.

Willem took advantage of Pio’d lapse in attention and rushed in quickly toward her, blade swinging madly in a low arc. He managed to get past her inattentive defenses and cut a long gash on her thigh.

A sharp intake of breath was her only reaction to the injury. Ignoring the blood running down her leg, she dropped into a crouch and refocused her attention full on him.

‘Cami,’ she said quietly, circling round him with him once more, ‘we practiced the proper forms for blade work. But this was to be your next lesson – the expedient way of using your blade to disable your opponent.’

She stepped in quickly and blocked a blow from his weapon, then slapped him hard on his side with a quick blow from the flat of her blade, knocking the wind from him. Drawing even closer, she lashed out a leg, and hooking him behind the knee, sent him sprawling on his back, his blade clattering away as he fell. The flat of her own blade slapped down smartly across his throat as he lay there. She brought her face close to him, her hot breath in his ear.

‘Perhaps next time there will be some female to defend you, sir!’

Pio looked up at his cronies. ‘Get him up! And pay him his winnings. Take him into Prim, she’ll get him patched up.’ She clapped him hard on the shoulder, once he was standing, and smiled at him. ‘You’re not half bad, you know! Go in and have a pint on me.’ She nodded to his friends. ‘You, too.’

‘Well, ‘ she said, turning to Cami as she leaned heavily on the pommel of her sword, its tip secured in the bloodied dirt at her feet, ‘that was a pleasant diversion . . .’

[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

6 Cermië Note New Day

‘Must hurt!’ The Shiriff stood in the doorway to her quarters, hat in hand. ‘The door was open, I took the liberty of coming in.’

Pio sat in the chair by the window, her left leg up on a footstool. She was wearing a light summer dress and had the skirt of it hiked above the wound, giving it some cooling air. The edges were red and angry, and the area around it swollen. She looked up at Halfred and covered her leg with her skirt. She thought to get up, but the wound pained her, and she winced as she moved the leg off the stool.

‘Well, come in, then,’ she said, indicating the chair at the other end of the window. ‘Just be quiet, the babies are sleeping for the moment.’

A Hobbit of considerable stature, still he moved quietly across the floor and sat lightly on the edge of the chair. Fingers grasping the brim of his hat, he turned it round in a circle, trying to find the right words.

‘Just spit it out, Shiriff.’ A half smile graced Pio’s face. ‘I know you have not come on a social call to inquire how the babies and their mother are doing. What brings you to the Inn, and specifically to my room?’

Halfred glanced nervously about the room. ‘Is your Mister still ill. I haven’t seen him about lately.’

Pio looked quizzically at this statement. Then remembered that Cook and Prim had told the poor Shiriff earlier that Mithadan was dreadfully ill and unavailable for questioning. She stifled a giggle, hiding it behind a cough.

‘He is better! Thank you for asking. Though his cough seems to linger.’

Halfred leaned back, further away from the Elf, who had just coughed.

The Shiriff cleared his throat and then proceeded to tell her that a complaint had been made about her roughing up one of the locals with her sword. Another example of Big Folk pushing about the inhabitants of the Shire in the eyes of the complainant. ‘You really must be more careful, Miz Pio,’ he admonished her. ‘Sentiment against all Big Folk is running high these dark days. And I’m afraid until we get these kidnappings sorted out it will only get more ugly.’ He looked at her, an expression of genuine concern on his face. ‘You’ve got your babies now. You have to keep yourself and your Mister safe to be here to take care of them.’

‘I thank you for your concern, Shiriff.’ Pio got up from her seat stiffly, her leg throbbing with pain. ‘Let me assure you I plan only to be stay near my children until we can leave the Shire. And as for Mithadan, he also has the babies foremost in his mind.’

She limped out to the Common Room with him, and drew him a half pint as well as one for herself. They sat at one of the tables near the bar and the conversation turned to pleasantries about parenting and general news from the Shire. When he was done, Halfred placed his hat back on his head, and bid her have a good day, and her Mister, too. She, in turn, promised to keep her blade sheathed, and the Hobbits she might encounter, unscathed.

‘Do let me know if I or Mithadan can assist you in any way,’ she told him. He raised one eyebrow at her, then flushed, and said politely, ‘Well, now, that’s a generous offer on your part. But I think the good people of the Shire can look after themselves.’

Pio walked with him to the verandah of the Inn, watching him as he mounted his pony and headed back down the path.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Stoatie was in no mood for any nonsense, not from the strangers, and certainly not from the others in Ferny's employ who were quickly sidling up to get a closer look at the newcomers.

"Y'all shut yer traps!" Old Stoat raised his cudgel and glared maliciously around the circle. "Back off. Till Ferny gits here, I'll be the one to say if they live or if I slice their throats real nice and quick." His fingers strayed to the dagger that he kept close by his side.

Then, Stoat grabbed up Mithadan's broadsword and ran his finger along the tip of the blade, smiling with pleasure at the sweet twinge of pain the sharp edge brought to him. He glanced slyly over to the owner of the weapon. "So exactly what sort o' job were the two of yer hopin' to do?"

Before Mithadan could respond, there was a murmur of astonishment that rushed though the crowd. Dickon, a sour faced, pimply youth in the employ of the henchmen, had found his way into the circle and eagerly thrust out his dirty hands into Bird's rear pockets, searching this way and that, hoping to bag a bit o' change for the askin'.

With her lean figure and stern demeanor, and her black curls tucked up tight inside her cap, the shapechanger had found it easy to pass for a village lad who'd come along as a companion with the taller, grey-eyed stranger. But one sharp pinch from Dickon, and a feel of soft, rounded flesh a bit further up brought a loud whistle to the youth's lips, "Hey, Stoatie. We got a live one 'ere. This ain't no fella'. It's a gurl."

Dickon turned and grinned at Stoatie. "Let's keep this 'un. We can use 'er to warm our beds at night."

The response from Stoat was swift and immediate. "Git yer bloody hands off 'er,"

The wheels began turning inside Stoatie's brain. Men with swords were not uncommon. But a woman--a woman who could keep kids in line--that was a different matter. Indeed it was a rare treasure. Women knew how to scare young 'uns and give 'em a good whack or two. They could make squirmy babes shut their mouths and not bellow so loud or long.

Stoatie beamed at the prospect of being set free from his prison. The black-haired woman could be set over that rascal Fosco and the Elf Lady's twins so he could turn to more profitable chores. Women were all so disgustingly soft. Just tell her he'd skewer the infants if she got outta line just once. That should take care of things.

With a broad grin on his face, Stoatie yelled out his happy news, "Hey, Mister Ferny, we got a real jewel here. She's a lady who knows how to knock sense into hobbit brats, and can git those Elf babes we're plannin' on haulin' off to shut up real nice. And she's got some scrawny guy with 'er who says he knows how to wield a sword. Maybe we can use 'im for somethin' real important like garbage duty. Then again, 'e may be worth a tad more than that. That's if 'e can learn to keep his mouth shut."

With this, the door of the house opened wide and Ferny emerged in full view.

[ May 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Nurumaiel]

Ferny had his eyes on Fosco as he went out of the house. Hopefully the brat was really truly asleep, not just pretending. If he wasn't asleep, then he'd definitely take this chance to get out and run for home. And then he'd warn everyone of their plans.

Ferny growled under his breath. He wasn't taking any chances. "Stoatie, send that woman in here right now to keep an eye on the brat!" he called. "And send one of your men with her." He could just see the brat escaping with the help of the woman. They were taking her most definitely. No need to question. They needed a woman to look after the brat, and he didn't care who they got. It was this other who arose his doubts.

Ferny walked up to Mithadan and eyed him thoughtfully. Yes, here was someone who could be helpful... if he were trustworthy. He opened his mouth to speak, but Stoatie, without realizing he was doing so, interrupted.

"Look at 'is sword," he said. "I fer one think 'e would be able to 'elp us."

"Maybe the kidnapping?"

Stoatie looked doubtful. Ferny shrugged. "I'll leave it to you, Stoat," he said. "Though you're just my henchman, you seem to have a pretty clear idea of what I'm thinking, and I'm in no mood to think." He reached down to rub his legs.

"Yer on," Stoatie snarled to Mithadan. "Ye 'ad better behave yerself as well, for Ferny don't 'old well with traitors an' spys."

* * * * * *

Bird entered the house followed by one of Ferny's men. Fosco opened his eyes and uncurled, looking up at her innocently, blinking. "I bet you're another of those evil men," he shouted.

Bird knelt down beside him and smiled warmly at him. "No, I'm not," she said. She looked kindly at him.

"Are you a friend of mummy's?" the lad asked.

"Yes."

For the first time Fosco's voice broke and big tears welled up in his eyes. He reached out and took Bird's hand, and the tears began to spill over. "I miss my mummy and daddy and my brother... I even miss my sister. I want to go home." The young brat was transformed into a young boy who wanted nothing but to go home and see his family again. He lay his curly head on Bird's hand and sobbed.