The Gathering-In, or The Quest of the 24 Messengers.

[Cimmerian]

Ooc - Love the dog touch-- Olla. *snigger ;D

Barocas was pleased to have some female company, though Dinodas seemed a bit uneasy. He was young, he would soon grow accustomed to it. Barocas assured himself.

"We can go to Bree firstly..." Barocas began, scratching his head, "and then we will head for the colder lands up north-east."

"If you think we can find some lost hobbits there." protested Dinodas.

"If not we can have a great adventure..." Barocas said, then whispered to Dinodas, "An if we find no other hobbits, we can take this one over to old Marcho, at least we won't some home empty handed."

Dinodas scratched his head as Barocas turned to the hobbit lass, who clutched her dog close to her.

"Aye, lady!" He said,"you can come with us, if you can bear with the company of two clumsy men."

The hobbit lass smiled and nodded her head.

"Can you cook, Amy?" Barocas asked, rubbing his generous belly, "Oh... may I call you Amy?" he smiled wide enough for both the hobbit men, as Dinodas too looked eagerly at Amaranth.

[ September 06, 2002: Message edited by: Cimmerian ]

[Birdland]

(O.O.C. - Now Barocas. Marcho supplied all the Messengers with riding ponies and a pack animal. Have you already lost them, or did you eat them on the hard road to Bree? [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] )

[ September 05, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Susan Delgado]

Ah, Cim, how did I know you'd nickname me "Amy"? I think I'll call you..."Barky". hehe [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

"Of course I can cook!" Amaranth exclaimed indignantly. "What do you think the first thing my mother taught me was?"
Barocas shrugged a little sheepishly. It was, after all, a very obvious question. "It was only a question," he muttered.
They'd reached the ponies and the next few minutes were spent rearranging the baggage so Amaranth could ride the pack animal. When this was all squared away she was sitting (however precariously) on her mount's withers, she continued, "The question is not really whether I can cook, but whether I will cook."
Both of the men turned toward her, identical looks of disbelief and alarm on their faces. Amaranth had to stifle a laugh; she thought they probably wouldn't understand.
When it was obvious that Barocas was too shocked to speak, Dinodas stammered, "Wh-what do you mean, you won't cook? Why not?"
Amaranth rolled her eyes. "I never said I wouldn't, I was only commenting that it's not really fair to make me do all the cooking. After all, you both seem to be well brought-up lads; don't try to tell me you never learned to cook!"
"Well, we-" Barocas tried to interject, but Amaranth wasn't finished.
"And what about the other chores? Do you expect me to do all the washing and firewood gathering too? If the only reason you picked me up was because you were too lazy to do your own work, I'll turn this pony right around and go off on my own. Come on, Olla, let's go!" And she started to suit action to words, But a shout of "No, don't!" from the men stopped her. She was riding the pack animal, of course, and all their food, bedding, and other supplies were strapped behind her. Not that she'd ever really intended to leave. Still, she hid her smile as she turned back to them. "Yes?"
Barocas looked very nervous. "Uh, don't leave. We'll share the chores fairly. Right Dinodas?" The lad nodded enthusiastically in agreement and Amaranth smiled brightly. "Excellent!"

[Child of the 7th Age]

Perry and his young companion, whom the ranger had nicknamed Arrow, made their way along the trail, cutting through the woods on a southerly track. They had walked hard and long the whole day, making as few stops as possible. They were trying to reach the Old Ford, which stood at the juncture of the Old Forest Road and the River Anduin. It was a town largely populated by big folk, but some rangers, both hobbit and Dunedain, were stationed in the region.

The girl, with her boundless energy, had run ahead. Perry continually warned her to be quiet and cautious. She was naturally adroit, but sometimes apt to forget silence was required. This was evidently one of those times.

Ahead of him, Perry heard a call from Rose that sounded half way between shock and fright. He immediately sped forward along the path with a grace and speed that belied his years. A note of fear was evident in Arrow's voice.

Perry ran up the small bluff, noting the signs of an ancient kuduk hole dug into the lower bank. From the few items scattered about, he could easily see that hobbits had been there lately. From the nature of the debris, it must have been a family. He sprinted up to Rose, "Are you all right?" grabbing her by the shoulder.

Rose nodded in horror and pointed to the edge of the ridge. Then she sqautted down and covered her mouth as if she was about to retch. The blood and few ripped clothes left on the earth told a simple story. On the same hillock lay the body of a dog, rigid in death except for a swarm of ever moving flies. His mouth and teeth lay open with the flesh of a hobbit still clenched within his jaws.

"How? Why?" the girl asked.

"It happens, too often, it happens."

"But this was a simple family, look at the baby's wrappings here and there."

"Aye, a family," Perry sighed, "And it seems to me from the look of the ground, that the dog sunk his teeth into the elder one, the Da."

"A mad dog?" Rose whispered.

"No mad dog this. A hunt party, out looking for quarry with more sport in it than a deer or even a wild cat."

"Shall we move the dog's body?" Rose asked.

"No, leave it be. To you, it may be nothing good. But there are creatures here who will draw life from it. And now I am afraid, little one, that they'll be little sleep for us tonight. We must rush down towards the Old Ford. We'll parallel it but stay out of sight of the road. Perhaps I'll run into some who can help us. I'm going to find out who has done this thing and why."

They began striding cross country at an even faster pace. Arrow was sprinting to keep up. After about two hours, with dark falling over the woods, they stopped for a moment just outside the Ford. Perry looked at the girl's sword which was still strapped abou her waist. He looked at her with some concern, "Do you really know how to use that thing? Because you may need it."

She nodded, "A little, plus I'm a fast learner."

Her answer did not settle the misgivings in her uncle's heart. But they strode together into the town. The girl could not help but notice how little fear stood on the ranger's face.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

As we go in search of your Stoor kin, I will bow to your sense of direction on our journey, Hob my friend. And the Misty Mountains! I wonder if it's true, that the caps of mountains are made of snow, even in summer? Think of the snowball fights to be had! Though if the Misty Mountains are true to their name, we're more likely in for hide-and-seek as we gather our fellow Hobbit folk in the fog. As for me, when our task is done, I'll be happy enough to settle back in the dependable comfort of the Shire. One eyeful of towering rock that covers its head in mantles of white or grey will be enough to last a lifetime of stories around the supper table.

* Erling Greenhands had waved farewell to kith and kin who'd tried to stay his leaving with "just one more helping of seedcake before you go." Tearing himself away, the Fallohide promised that the sooner he and Hob were on their way, the sooner they'd return with more guests to celebrate at bigger parties. *

[Birdland]

Well, the truth had come out, eventually. But the situation was still volatile in the Village of Old Ford.

"We were within our rights!" shouted the fat farmer Cadda. "The Long Feet were raiding our fields. We have the right to protect our own. We meant only to drive the creatures out of the area and send them on their way. Why, the only weapon Beda carried was his cudgel, and I bore no arms at all."

The Ranger Earendur could have pointed out that a huge hunting hound would be a formidable weapon against a three and a half foot tall opponent, but the good folk of Old Ford were not open to considering such fine distinctions. They were out for blood, driven by the loss of one of their own, and the hatred for those things unknown and "different".

Earendur would have preferred to view the scene of the "accident" and "murder" on his own, but the some Men of the village would follow him and Cadda back to the scene.

A shovel was produced and the ancient burrow was dug open. The few belongings left in the hole were rifled; a very small quiver, a finely woven willow basket, some few oddments of clothing, (no shoes, of course). And no weapons of any kind. A pathetic collection of belongings for an entire family. These folk had traveled light, and when they fled, they had left all they owned behind. None of the men even bothered to take anything for a souvenir.

The body of Man and Dog were farther up the hill, both killed by single, skillfully crafted arrows tipped with flint. The body of Beda was shrouded to be carried home. One of the farmers promised to return and bury the hound at the place of his "final kill." The man who said this had the decency to at least look a little uncomfortable after he had spoken.

Of course, no tracks were found by the villagers, and any that Earendur could have found were trampled by the others searching the site. The blood trail from the scene to the top of the hill was easy enough to follow. Earendur was certain that the Halfling could not have lived long from such a ferocious wound and the loss of so much blood.

After the villagers had left with their dead, the Ranger had scouted around the hill top, finally picking up such faint signs that might be left by the Hobytlan. It was when he reached the forest track that the mystery deepened, for the family seemingly had hitched a ride on a cart at this point!

He followed the trail to the campsite of the Hobytlan and their mysterious benefactor. He paused and offered reverence to the lonely barrow, and found that the remains of the family - which he had deduced to be two females, two children, and a male - had taken leave of their helper, and traveled south. The cart had continued northward.

Now what "Big Folk" would these Hobbits have possibly trusted, after the disaster they had lived through? A small smile came to Earendur's face as his eyes followed the cart-tracks down the trail. There was only one person that the Ranger could think of. He hoped he could find him again, to get his take on this sad tale.

Earendur had returned to Old Ford, but little more was to be learned. He had tried to diffuse the situation as much as he could, and knew that the Dunedain would have to be alert to any other such incidences, adding to their duties of the protection of this land, especially since the Darkness had descended on the Greenwood.

Two days later, the Ranger was in the stable, making one last check over his horse and gear before he left this town to return to his own lonely wandering. One last night in a semi-comfortable inn bed, and he would be gone at dawn.

In the darkness outside the stable, he heard the clear, high call of a nighthawk. It had not come from the sky though, but from a grove of trees behind the stables.

"I am alone, Perry. Come out. We have much to discuss."

[Elenna]

That evening, Dinodas and Barocas enjoyed a delicious meal prepared by the hobbit lass Amy. Dinny, as Amy now called him, had become a bit less shy of her exuberant conversation, and was now laughing along with her and Barocas.

When it came time to decide who would wash the dishes, Barocas quickly fabricated the excuse of extreme exhaustion and ran away, leaving Dinodas to do it himself in a nearby stream.

"Am I going to have to do this the whole way?" he grumbled to himself. "Way to where?" another part of him replied. "I still don't really know where we're going after we get to Bree."

[Rose Cotton]

Rose felt a bit insecure about being so close to big-folk. Especially after what she had seen on the hill. She was both eager and frightened that Uncle Perry had told her she may have to use her sword.

Now she tried her best to keep close to Perry as they approched this man ranger.
The man eyed her suspicously. "This is my ranger in training, Rose." Perry said gesturing behind him.
"A girl." said the man lifting an eyebrow.
Rose was about to retaliate but her Uncle kept her silent with a look.
"No matter, we have other issues to attend to."

[ September 06, 2002: Message edited by: Rose Cotton ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Earendur and Perry exchanged confidences with the silent cloak of night hiding their conversation. Perry shook his head in dismay at the story that the Ranger told. The hobbit sighed, "We haven't seen the like of this in a good ten years. I'd hoped we'd gotten beyond this point, but it does not seem so. Do you think there will be more violence, or that this may have been the first volley in something far more organized?"

Th answer from the Dunedain came swift and sure: "I am hopeful that this is not so. I think these may have been two fools with fierce dogs and too much liquor in their heads. But I am afraid that there may be bad feelings created which will be hard to bottle up or control."

Then Perry asked him if he'd heard the rumors out of Bree concerning a host of messengers sent out from the Shire to offer a place of refuge for halflings with no other home.

The Ranger thought a moment, "These matters touch on your people rather than mine. But there is always the danger that, if news of this reaches the humans, they will have one more reason to fear the halflings."

At that instant, a pesky black bird came swooping down through the air, cacling in delight. He plunked awkwardly down on a tree just beside the Dunedain. Then the bird inclined his head and held out one wing. For one crazy moment, Perry actually thought the Bird might speak. Rose came rushing in, her mouth wide open. She pointed at the bird and gasped..."

[ September 07, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Susan Delgado]

Amaranth leaned back against the packs and grinned as she watched Dinny grumble about having to clean up after the meal. After a few minutes, he became aware of her attention and turned around to give her a glare of annoyance.

"If all you're gonna do is laugh at me, why don't you go do it somewhere else?" He said in an aggrieved voice.
"Oh, but this is so much more entertaining! What's the fun of it if I can't see you?" She replied, still grinning like a loon.
Grumbling, he turned back to his chores. Amaranth got up and wandered away to see what Ol' Barky was up to. As it happened, he'd witnessed the exchange from a thicket just upstream and when she reached him, he was still doubled up in laughter. She waited gleefully until he was finally able to control himself and then said in an arch tone, "Well?"
"The look on his face! You saw it..." and startled giggling again. Satisfied, Amaranth wandered back toward the camp.

[Bêthberry]

Despite the warm sensation of the summer sun on their bodies and the scents of summer blooms on the air, the Messengers were becoming tired of riding. Not just their muscles, but the bones of their hips also were protesting the long ride. There was only so much stretching and rubbing a hobbit could do.

Hob rode ahead to talk with Ardo.

I know some of yous have yer hearts set on Bree, but Marcho figured that Staddle would give us quieter rest. Bree's too full of men and too empty of our kind. There's plenty of hobbit folk in Staddle that'll be offerin' us a home cooked meal tonight and an interested, helpful ear about the Gatherin'. Why spend our time tellin' the Big folk about it and risk angerin' 'em?

Ardo listened thoughtfully to Hob, looked at his honest face, and nodded agreement. They would push on.

By dusk this largest group of Messengers had reached Staddle, on the other side of the hill from Bree. They had ridden mainly through small country fields and untilled woodland and most had never before had a chance to see the calm beauty of this land. The air had been fresh and sweet and the sun warm and for a time it seemed as if all was right with the world. Now, they were tired and thinking of roast mutton and fresh bread and taters and greens and berry pies.

The hobbits of Staddle were an old settlement, oldest in all Bree-land if you took their word for it. They were huddled in smials and some largish houses around two roads which crossed the main street. In all there were maybe twenty families and each had tried to outdo the other in the warmth and hospitality of their welcome for the heroes of The Gathering. There would be many full and satisfied bellies this night in Staddle.

Hob looked over at his friend Erling. There's a family at the end of the main street at the foot of the hill who's waitin' for us. By name be Broadbelt. Go you there and let them know we've made it. I'll sees to the ponies and the carts.

Erling was happy to announce their arrival at the large smial of the Underhills. He could smell the stew and fresh bread baking.

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[piosenniel]

'He talked to me!', cried the young Ranger, rushing in upon the hobbit and the man.

The crow cocked his head and fixed her with one beady black eye. 'Better than being skewered by an arrow, my impetuous young friend!' came the reply. 'Thank Manwë and his breezes that you are such a poor shot, else I might not have made it with my tidings.'

He returned his attention to the Ranger Eärendur. 'I fly at the bidding of the one in grey. There are a number of the holbytlan taking refuge in The Narrows of the Forest in Mirkwood. They are making for the Langflood, and by all appearances mean to travel south on it. He is concerned as there have been dark stirrings of late in Dol Guldur, and wishes that the holbytlan come not to the attention of the Necromancer.'

Eärendur frowned at the crow's words. 'Will he be able to persuade them to stay hidden until we can come to them?' He paused in thought. 'I can start for there immediately, passing word to the others as I go. Down the river will be our swiftest route, I think.'

The crow nodded his head at the Ranger's plan.

Perry cleared his throat and looked inquiringly at Eärendur. 'Oh, my pardon!' returned the man. 'This is Camlost, a friend and ally.' The bird bent his head to the halfling Ranger and his apprentice.

'And this is Perry, one of the halfling Rangers, a trusted friend.' continued Eärendur. He pointed toward the younger hobbit and grinned. 'And now allow me to introduce you to his doughty apprentice, Rose of the Wayward Aim.'

Rose's cheeks turned crimson but she held her ground and bowed back to Camlost.

[ September 06, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Cimmerian]

Sipping deeply from his waterskin, Barocas looked around for a good place to lie down.
After all, a good nap was necessary after a hearty meal. That lass, Amy, did cook well. Rubbing his well fed belly, the large hobbit settled down under a tree. His mind lazed over what he would do in Bree, there were supplies to replenish, more wine to refill. And then decide which way would be safest to travel at that time of the year. And also keep a sharp eye out for any more hobbits... especially hobbit lasses.
A soft snoring sound emitted from where he lay, unaware of the world around him. Barocas slept peacefully.

[Ithaeliel]

Ardo sighed woefully. He was tired indeed from all the riding. He was not accustomed to such a very large pony, and the point of the leather scabbard that held his short sword kept jabbing him in the knee! What did he have to do for a bit of comfort? Ardo Baggins, you tomfool, stop complainin', he thought to himself. Ye've got too long a way to go yet before you ought to say anything about comfort. And you have to set a good example for young Pippin there.

Ardo sighed again. His inner voice was right, as it usually was anyways. Looking over at Pippin, he saw the lad's head was bobbing freely, for he also was very tired. His pony was one of the smoothest rides in the bunch, but they had been riding a bit too long even for Pip.

Smiling, Ardo reached over to put a hand on his companion's shoulder. "You all right, lad?"
Pippin looked up, and desperation shone in his eyes. "I'm fine... just tired."
"It'll be all right, Pippin. I'm a bit tired meself, but that ain't no reason to give up just yet. We'll be resting soon, don't worry."
Pippin lifted his head a little and gave a wry smirk as he voiced Ardo's thoughts. "That sword looks to be makin' you mighty uncomfortable, Mister Baggins. Why'd you bring it along, anyway."
Ardo shrugged. "Just in case we happen to find ourselves in any of those wild situations that you mentioned earlier, Pip."
Pippin's eyes went round and Ardo laughed mirthfully. "Don't worry, lad! We probably won't."

[ September 08, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Birdland]

The Ranger smiled as he rummaged through a saddlebag. Pulling out a green leaf-wrapped package, he broke a very small piece of Lembas off and flipped it towards the loquacious crow. Camlost caught the morsel and gulped it down with a satisfying clack of his beak. Then he looked expectantly at Earendur for more.

“Patience, Camlost. I know you have flown far and are hungry. But in your eagerness to “sing for your supper“, I think you have only given me the bare bones of the message entrusted to you. Now sit while I ask you some questions.

The black bird sighed and settled down on the top of a stall door, waiting for the Ranger's questions, (and the rest of his supper.)

“First: Where did you last leave Gandalf? For I found signs of his passing through here two days ago, and I would much like to speak to him“.

"Next: what is his take on the doings here at Old Ford, for I know that he offered aid to a certain family of Harfoots who had to leave the area under tragic circumstances. Did they fear pursuit? Were they hoping to join up with other members of their clan? Or did they intended to just leave danger behind and then continue their usual drifting to the South as the seasons turn?”

"Third: What clan of Halflings were seen at the Narrows? Were these Fallohides looking for new hunting grounds, or have Harfoots strayed into Mirkwood seeking to hide from danger?”

"And lastly: Has Gandalf heard any news from the new settlement in Eriador? For Perry here says their leader has sent Messengers out into the Wilderness to search for their scattered kin. If he has heard of these searchers, does he intend to offer them any aid?“

Earendur sat down on a feed box, passing out Lembas to Perry and Arrow, and settled down to enjoy a piece himself. “Perry, do you have any further questions for our friend here?“

[ September 08, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* A hearty meal shared with a Hobbit family eagerly awaiting the two much-heralded Messengers? Now this was adventure! Erling Greenhands sprang from his pony. Before his pulled leg muscles could catch up with him, he bounded away down the grassy knoll, out of sight of Hob and the ponies. Reaching a round red door, he tapped out a lively springle-ring rhythm until the lady of the hole appeared. *

* The knob wobbled and the door slitted open. A no-nonsense matron of sharp eye and quick tongue looked Erling up and down. * Yes?

* The Fallohide of pale-golden hair blinked under the gaze but managed an introductory bow. * Erling Greenhands, at your service. I'm one of the Messengers. You know, on the quest to gather Hobbit folk into the Shire.

No thank you, Hamson and I are not interested in moving a single step further West. Our hole here in Staddle is snug enough. No sense us picking up, packing up, and burrowing in somewheres new at our age. By the way, aren't there supposed to be two of you? * Behind the sturdy Hobbit lady, a dog sniffed, giving a couple of practice barks. *

But they said there'd be supper here? * Erling leaned closer, smiling and pulling out a small burlap sack which exuded a pleasing earthy aroma. * I've mushrooms for your stew. And my good friend Hob Heathertoes will be along in a few minutes.

Looks like we've got us some dinner guests, Snapper! * The matron waved off her dog and ushered Erling into the comfort of her hole, hollering for her husband to come meet the Messenger. *

* Meanwhile, little did Erling suspect that he had knocked on the wrong door by mistake. Soon he would be enjoying the hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Goodbody, leaving poor Hob to wonder why Erling was nowhere to be seen at the Broadbelt smials ... *

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Perry shook his had at the Ranger. "You've covered most of what I would have asked. But I have just one more question. When I was up in Fornos a few weeks before, I heard rumors voiced among the Men. There seemed to be fear of more unrest, whether started by the Nazgul or some of their friends against Arnor itself and the Dunedain there."

"This certainly concerns your folk more than mine, although hobbits have a way of getting swept up in such things if they're not careful. Perhaps these are just whisperings in the wind, and of no concern, but I wonder if you've heard anything further on this."

[piosenniel]

'Very clever, Eärendur, trying to cheat a poor bird out of a full supper! You have asked ten questions in the guise of four. And as for the halfling Ranger, I see no recompense at hand from him for the queries he is making. He fixed them both with a beady black eye, and paused to consider exactly what and how much he might tell them. Gandalf had not been all that forthcoming with information, and he wondered how he might stretch it out for a bit more supper.

He flapped his wings, ruffled his feathers, and then began.

'I left Gandalf on the outskirts of Mirkwood, east of the Gladden fields. I know he had spoken with several families of Stoors, and that is how he found out about the gathering of holbytlan there. From that I gathered that the clan he was concerned about were the Stoors.'

'He did not mention any news from Eriador or ask me to look for Messengers coming from that direction. As to offering them any aid, I should think this present problem and the one you mentioned at the Old Ford are foremost in his mind. Just as an aside, I would say that the family he rescued might well have feared pursuit. This is not the only incident of this type that we have heard of, where the holbytlan have been hunted like animals.'

'As to your question, Master Perry, Gandalf is concerned about rumours of some foe stirring in Carn Dûm who is set against the Northern Kingdoms of the Dúnedain. And yes, you should be concerned, as Arthedain encompasses the Shire.'

Camlost flew down to the stable floor, and landed weakly, falling ungracefully to his side. He gave a few coughs, and rolled dramatically to his back with his one leg stiff in the air, his tongue lolling from his beak. 'What's a poor bird have to do to keep from starving to death?!' he gasped.

[ September 09, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Birdland]

Eärendur laughed at his feathered companion's antics, and unwrapped another piece of waybread. "Well done, Camlost. You have held up remarkably well to our interrogation."

Camlost flipped back over, and hopping across the stable floor on his one leg, retrieved the proffered lembas with a delicate beak.

The bird fixed a jaundiced eye on a scrawny stable cat who appeared out of the straw, but the poor beast only wanted a share of the wonderful food it smelled. The Ranger offered a piece to the cat, and sat thinking while he scratched its ears absent-mindedly.

“I must find Gandalf. I fear a connection between Carn Dûn and Dol Guldur, as I suspect the Wizard does as well. I hope we will not be facing a war on two fronts.”

“As for these Messengers: you say that they were to set out on Midyear Day, Perry. That means they cannot be far on their road, and knowing most hobbits, may have a tendency to dally.” Perry gave an affronted look at the Ranger “I said ‘most Hobbits’, friend”, Eärendur said with an apologetic smile. “I know not how you feel about this mission to bring the your scattered people into the fold of Eriador, but my own heart tells me that it would be for the best. I can only see their troubles increasing as the Necromancer and The Witch King gain strength, though they have a powerful ally in Gandalf. And the Dunedain will do what they can.”

“Camlost: should you see any of these messengers in your travels, let me or Perry know of it. It may be we will want to contact them, or offer some help to them. Perry, I assume you will be traveling towards the Narrows to find out about these Stoors, and what could have driven them into Mirkwood.”

Eärendur could see his friend was troubled. “Come, Perry. You have said little about your thoughts about these ‘Messengers‘. I would like to hear your opinion.”

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Bêthberry]

Hob had not paused to watch where Erling went but had turned to care for the ponies immediately. He lingered over their care, unhitching them and setting the carts aside in the small paddock. He brushed the ponies carefully and lovingly and even talked to them, for with animals his tongue was readily loosened. Gently he scratched Cob's ears, for he knew his pony loved the attention and the affection.

After some time, though, his tired muscles and empty stomach got the best of his reticence and he headed off for the large smial at the base of the hill. Knocking a bit anxiously at the yellow door, he hung his head down and didn't see Mrs. Broadbelt open the door until she coughed. He looked up.

Um, hello, Mz Broadbelt. I'm the second Messenger Marcho's sent you, Hob Heathertoes.

He stood uneasily waiting to be invited in, particularly since Mrs. Broadbelt's face acquired a puzzled frown.

Why, whatever do you mean second? We haven't seen the first. Good gracious me, did you lose him on the ride here? Is there trouble afoot? Oh, dear, so close to Staddle? Mr. Broadbelt, Mr. Broadbelt, there's trouble in the night. We've lost a Messenger we have. Round up the men. Come, quickly. We must find him before any hurt is done to him.

Before Hob could correct her false impression, the bustling woman had already roused not only her husband, but her neighbours on either side of the smial also. And he was too worried about Erling himself to point out that they had ridden into Staddle together.

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[piosenniel]

The crow flew up to one of the rafters in the stable. He preened his feathers and then settled down with his head tucked beneath his wing as if going off to sleep. He appeared the very picture of a weary bird seeking rest.

His ears, though, were very much open, and taking in each word of the conversation between the Rangers below. Gandalf would want to know what the Man and the hobbit were planning to do. He would pick the crow's brain for every morsel of information, then turn it over and over in his mind before storing it away.

At a lull in the conversation, Camlost stretched and made to put his head back under his wing, when something small and bright caught his eye.

From out the flap of Rose's pack he spied the end of a sky blue hair ribbon shot with a silver threads which made it gleam as it caught the light.

'Pretty!' he said to himself, fixing his eye on the prize.

The Rangers spoke long into the night, and the crow despaired of them ever going to sleep.

[ September 10, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Bêthberry]

Now, now, now, Mrs. B. You needn't call up the entire establishment of Staddle and we don't need our living room full of the Staddle Tale and Gossip Society. If there's trouble afoot, why, why should we let them know we know they're here? No, no, my dear, let us move about with some stealth. Petunia and Peony, so good of you to come so quickly to lend an ear and tongue, but will you be off now to say a little 'All's well' to all concerned? Let's pretend no one is missing.

Mrs. Broadbelt's fellow gossips could hardly say no to such a sound request, and so the intrepid Peony and Petunia bid her adieu.

Our young hobbit visitor here, young what's your name, you can go knock on doors to see if ought has been heard. Let me slip out the back way to begin some quiet investigations. These young lads can get some wild ideas in their heads once they're away from home.

The name's Hob, Mr. Broadbelt. Hob Heathertoes. And yes, I shall quietly inquire about my friend. Erling Greenhands is a good lad and wouldn't just run off willy-nilly. You shall see I am right.

With that retort, Hob went off to knock on every door. It was a difficult task for the diffident hobbit, for he felt he could not quite come right out and say Erling was missing. Consequently, at each door to every smial, he stood upon some ceremony and engaged in much smiling and admiring and nodding and yesing, Marcho's idea was top form, and could you please say possibly if any strange hobbit has been heard of and other such hospitable talk as the missuses of each smial would engage in. And he could feel, at his back, Peony and Petunia watching him travel from door to door as they peeked out their window. Lucky for him that at the fourth door, just as he was about to knock, it flew open and out ensued just the hobbit he was looking for.

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Rose Cotton]

Rose listened to the talk at first but she was consentrating most on the strange bird. She was facinated by it. As it sat up in the rafters she noticed it looking down at her. She waved to Camlost and silently asked him to come down to her. The bird studied her a moment then flapped down onto her arm.
"Hello friend, I'm very sorry for trying to shoot you before."

[Aradaewen]

Pippin smiled and let his head droop again. He slipped back into the elvish style of sleeping and letting the horse (or pony) do all the walking. He was a smart stallion, and knew their mission. In Pippin's dream, the skies were blue and there were many trees. Golden sunlight slanted through the leaves of upper foliage. Pippin grinned in his light sleep; this wasn't the first time he'd had this dream.

He walked along a dirt path through the woods and soon came upon a quaint little cottage. Outside, a young hobbit-wife with brown hair and a green dress, rocked a small child to sleep, singing an elvish lullaby. The child's elven nanny stood inside the door, peeling potato's at a small table.

In a few moments, a tall, strapping hobbit strolled into view, a young deer slung across his shoulders, satisfied with the day's hunting. The woman wrapped the child in its blankets, set in on the chair, and ran to her husband. He embraced her, but released her quickly as a sharp crack! sounded behind them.

An old tree had fallen right on the young couple and even farther onto the house, crushing all three adults. The child had mysteriously escaped injury. Three more elves raced into view and did what they could for the people, but they were all of them dead. As they set fire to the house and its deceased occupants and turned to leave, they heard the baby's wails. As they turned and picked it up, the dream faded...

[Ithaeliel]

"Now remember Pip: be polite and persuasive at the same time. We don't want to get our rumps kicked out of the house at the first word."

"No, sir, Mister Ardo. I'm pretty good at persuadin' folks to join a cause, and this isn't much different, if you take my meaning."

"Now go on and do business. Good luck, Pippin."

"Good luck to you also, sir."

Ardo drew a deep breath and gave a sharp rap on the door. From inside, there was a sound of scuffling feet and voices calling to each other. Get the door, you lump, before they leave!

I'm goin', I'm goin'!

There were also smaller voices laughing and talking, and the sound of little feet stomping about. Ardo smiled wryly. "Well, bless my buttons... I've got an entire family to talk this over with," he sighed to himself.

The hobbit who came to the door was about Ardo's age, with brown hair, and upon seeing the visitor gave a tired smile. "Why, hello there! What can I do for you, my good man?"
Ardo reached out to shake the hobbit's hand. "Good day and well-met! My name is Ardo Baggins; I'm of the Messengers from the Shire."
"Oh, deary me! That Shire? The one all the many 'obbits have settled recently?"
"That would be the only Shire I know of, Mr... ah, what did you say your name was?"
"My name is Goodbody, Mr. Baggins."

*The rest of this space reserved! My creative juices are running a bit dry for the moment, so pardon me.*

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* The wind generated by his fleeing feet was enough to slam the door behind Erling Greenhands. But this was not the sort of exit he'd hoped to make. Erling blushed, turned, opened the door, bowed low. Taking his leave, he assured his short-term hosts that he'd be happy enough to stay and enjoy their kind hospitality, but courtesy demanded that he fulfill his previous social commitment to the Broadbelts. The door closed again in a more usual fashion, and Erling breathed easier. *

Hob! What a relief to see you! Hamson and Primrose Goodbody wouldn't admit their names until after they'd sampled mushrooms from my sack, and asked me for tidings of our quest. Muttered something about, 'Why should them uppity Broadbelts always get to play town crier, just because they live in them fancy smials? Our hole may be humble, but the stew's just as good, and our family just as fit to host Messengers.' At first I kept looking through the window, expecting you'd come. But as soon as I learned this was a case of mistaken identity, I set out to find you, even though the Goodbodies only grinned at me and wouldn't tell when I asked where the Broadbelts lived.

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The crow was on the verge of falling asleep in the rafters, but kept one ear open to hear the news. The hobbit seemed upset. He was stomping around in circles.

"There's two different things here. First, there's how I feel. Would I ever want to live in a place where everyone spent their day ploughing? Bah, I can't imagine a more miserable fate. Anyone living there is bound to shrivel up within a few years. I can see it now. They'll be more concerned with serving tea out of golden cups than seeing the world or adventuring."

"But, if you're asking me whether it would be easier to defend the hobbits if they stayed in one place, that's a different story. Of course, it would be! What I want to know is this, are these messengers any good at what they're doing, or are they just small bungle heads sent out from the Shire by even bigger bungle heads. I'm willing to cooperate if they can convince me they've got some wits about them and can follow through on promises they've made."

Earendur replied, "Your name carries some weight in these parts. Has anyone approached you to talk?"

Perry shook his head and laughed, "No one's beating a path to me. But I will give the Shire credit for one thing. Every village in these parts looks after its own kind--Stoor, Harfoot, or Fallohide--but the Shire is the first to suggest that different clans can live together. And that's no small thing. Within a day's walk of where that poor family was, there was a Fallohide village in the woods. If that village had been willing to look beyond the label "Stoor", that poor fellow might have had a home and be alive today."

[ September 11, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Rose Cotton]

ooc: I suppose your talking about my village Child::

As Rose chatted with Camlost who now rested on her arm she overheard her Uncle saying "Within a day's walk of where that poor family was, there was a Fallohide village in the woods. If that village had been willing to look beyond the label "Stoor", that poor fellow might have had a home and be alive today."
She blushed. "We don't mean for anyone to get hurt. We just stay out of other people's way." Rose muttered.

[Bêthberry]

The blustery Mr. Broadbelt was providing some last minute advice to Hob and Erling.

Mind you now, I want to see a healthy, large group of hobbits back here next year; some more Fallohides would be nice. You bring them back in the right direction. Staddle's quite a comfortable place and as good as any in The Shire and we could use more families. No sense in letting Marcho grab up all the new one.

Hob had been busying himself with the buckles and straps of the cart, padding Cob's back with a blanket, and just generally nodding to the sagacity offerred. He turned steely-faced to elder hobbit when his packing was done.

Tell you truthly, Mr. Marcho's not spoken directly 'bout where to return. Best let thems that comes decides. Somes'll be farmin', somes fishers, somes likes the hunt.

Just as Hob was about to call to Erling, Mrs. Broadbelt appeared, bustling about with parcels and packages. Hob was thankful she had the good sense to wrap things that would keep on the long journey--for all her gossiping and flightiness, she was a shrewd domestic manager. They had extra seed cakes, leaves for brews over the fire, dried meats and berries, even an extra blanket for them both. But he noticed that she handed it all to Erling, so when she came round to give him the same motherly hug which Erling had received with happy good grace, he stood back, withdrawn and reserved, and she halted her movement, a bit surprised, and then gave him but a nod.

These Stoors, she thought to herself. They're so standoffish and touchy. Tsk Tsk. Too bad they can't be pleasant. What will it be like if we get more of them?

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[piosenniel]

'Amazing!' though Camlost to himself.'No matter how many times I've seen them do it, it still astounds me.' He watched closely as Rose's cheeks turned from a light pink flush to a deep red staining her cheekbones.

Since the comment from the hobbit Ranger about villages looking after their own, her attention had been drawn away from the crow, as she tried to follow the conversation. Camlost hopped off her arm and inched toward her pack, one eye fixed on the shiny ribbon. He had reached it and was just easing the last of it from under the flap, when a large hand caught him in its grip and hoisted him upward.

'Now, Camlost, be a nice bird and give the young ranger back her ribbon.' The crow dropped the prize and squawked indignantly at Eärendur, delivering a few well aimed pecks at the man's hand.

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Perry shook his head and laughed at the antics of the crow, "If this is our ally, I hate to see what our enemy looks like. Well, Camlost, I think you need some lessons from a hobbit on proper ways of sneakin' up on things and makin' off with them so nobody sees!"

Camlost sat in the rafter and turned a jaundiced and superior eye on Perry. The hobbit had the strangest feeling that the creature seemed to think himself more like a dragon than a little bird. Perhaps in his dreams, or in another life!

Rose came to retrieve her ribbon. She inched forward towards the Rangers and turned about to slink away. Perry cleared his throat, "Well, Mistress Rose, I'd say you've been listening for a while. Perhaps you have heard some things that were never meant for your ears. But having heard them, I think you'd better understand what I'm saying. These old ways have been going on a long time, and I won't say anyone in particular is to blame. Certainly, not you or your dad, or evn your village. But maybe it's time for hobbits to think of themselves as hobbits, and not as three separate peoples. There's few of us enough as it is."

Perry turned now to Earendur. "I need to turn in for the night. Do you think it's safe to try the Inn, or would I be better off in the woods? I don't know any settled hobbit folk in these parts where I can get something softer than the ground."

"And what are your plans? I'll be heading after the Stoors going towards Bree to try and find out a little more. Plus, I'm hoping to see some of these messengers on the road as well. You're welcome to come along, or did you tell me you have business in another direction?"

[Birdland]

Eärendur’s eyes widened in alarm at Perry’s suggestion that he and his apprentice stay at the inn. “I’m sorry, my good friend, but the “Broken Dragon” is no place for you tonight, or for many nights to come. In fact, I fear we have sat far too long here in the stable. We were lucky not to be interrupted.”

“The ancient smial where the Harfoot family was staying would have been very suitable, but I fear the Men of Old Ford have destroyed it with their digging, and the site will be abandoned for many years to come, as the story of what happened there spread throughout your people.”

“So I suggest you and Arrow make Nature your bed until you have moved into more friendly territory in Mirkwood. As for myself, I think I will move on tonight. It’s important that I speak to Gandalf as soon as possible.”

Eärendur knelt and grasped Perry by the hand. “My good friend, I know you have your reasons for mistrusting these Messengers and the way of life they seek to bring your people. But they are not the Enemy! A time is coming when Middle Earth will be a much more dangerous place for all people, not just Halflings. Your people trust you Perry, and will listen to your opinion. Consider well what advise you will offer them.“

The Ranger rose and went to the stall to lead out his shaggy, dun-colored gelding, Erne. Checking him once more to see if he was fit for the road, he then turned to fetch his saddle. “Camlost,“ he said, as he carefully tightened the girth and offered the horse the bridle. "I leave you to your own devices. I ask only that you be our eyes and ears in your wanderings, and bring Perry or I any news of trouble amongst the Halflings. And keep an eye out for those Messengers. “

Eärendur doused the stable lantern and led Erne quietly out to the empty inn yard. It was long past midnight, and the town of Old Ford slept peacefully. Mounting the horse, the Ranger looked down at the young Fallohide lass. “Arrow, you have been chosen by a worthy teacher. Mind him well, and you will fly true. Though I fear you will have little need of hair ribbons where he will lead you.” Then he raised his hand in farewell and rode away.

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Cimmerian]

The soft honeyed and pale-gold streaks of the first rays of the new day sun fell across the fresh dew covered blades of emerald green grass swaying in the fresh early morning wafts of pleasant breeze that caressed across the tall, gray tree covered landscape rolling on for miles and miles. Far ahead in the horizon, clouds of billowy white floated over the icy peaks of the far off misty mountains that rose majestically to make an imposing barrier across the vast expanse of the shimmering horizon.

Barocas rode on his pony and marveled at the view before him with eyes widened in awe and expectation. Glancing across at Dinodas, he noticed that the young hobbit lad had a look of equal wonderment in his bright eyes. Amaranth too felt excited as she tossed her head and looked around. Her large wondering eyes surveyed the lands they were about to travel until their gaze settled on the large hobbit. She softened her gaze as she saw the youthful look of exuberance on his large, chubby face. A look of boyish wonder in anticipation of a great journey ahead.

Shrill and sweet birdsongs rent the air around them as their ponies began their steady trot onward. As their journey progressed, birds of many sizes and hues filled their field of vision. The densely wooded land around them was home to many kinds of feathered animals of the air.

“Such beautiful birds and so sweet they sound,” sighed Amaranth.

“Aye, it is a wonderful place, so peaceful and tranquil.” Dinodas chimed in.

Yes,” agreed Barocas, “but you have to watch out for their droppings, such creatures are notorious for pelting unsuspecting passers-by from above in the air as they fly over.”

“Still, the wonderful sight and sounds they make are worth taking a few peltings.” Laughed Dinodas.

“I agree,” smiled Amaranth, ‘what kind of place is this, Barocas… have you been here before?”

“Aye that I have, but briefly.” Barocas nodded. “This place has no name, or none that I know of, it is some kind of bird land.”

The happy chirruping of the birds grew louder as the three awe-struck travelers moved on further into the rich, dense, jade foliage. Golden streaks of the sun’s warming rays broke through the dark canopy like illuminations of divinity. The atmosphere there was one close to heaven if such a lace did indeed exist. Never the less as all good things come to and end so did their passage through the rich forest of birds.

“That was a beautiful experience, Barocas.” Dinodas nodded smiling.

Barocas nodded in agreement and grumbled as he scraped off some of the new hues that the birds had bestowed upon his somber tunic and hat. Amaranth laughed even as she did the same.

“Do we head for bree now, friends.” The pluckly hobbit lass asked.

“We already are on the way,” said Barocas, trying to be less gruff.

“Look!” cried Dinodas, pointing to a dark, billowy cloud of dust in the far horizon that steadily appeared to grow larger as they progressed. “What do you think that is?”

“It could be trouble,” the fat hobbit muttered as he struggled to unsheathe his short sword from it’s leather worn scabbard that hung loosely from the belt that barely held up his leggings over his generous midriff. “But fear not, Barocas has lived through many a battle to tell of their tale, some of which he intends to narrated to his grandchildren one day.” He grinned at Amarath, whose eyes widened. Hoping that the plucky hobbit lass would blush, Barocas was dismayed when she snorted instead and grabbed two frying pans, which she intended to use as her means of defense. Dinodas too brought to hand his weapon of choice, though with much more relative ease than his large, girthsome companion. “Let them come,” the young hobbit lad whispered, “We shall be ready for them.

“Aye lad, that we shall,” boomed Barocas as Amaranth winced at his decibel level.

The dark, billowy cloud of dust grew larger and larger as the three hobbits baraced themselves on their mounts. The ponies neighed loudly and cantered about from side to side in well-founded anxiety. “It comes!” Barocas growled.

With a sudden, ear splitting scream, the could of dust halted to a stand still, a few arm lengths in front to the three travelers. Dinodas and Amaranth glanced at Barocas as if awaiting his command to attack. Barocas waited with bated breath as the dust cleared to reveal a tall man, in dirty grayed robes, his long beard and hair was gray and covered in dust from the road. He wore a long pointed hat on his large head; its tip was pulled down over his forehead, hiding his large bushy eyebrows beneath which eyes of seemingly blue stared out from. Though he had been moving towards them with considerable speed, there was no steed beneath him as his bared feet stood strongly planted on the hard packed soil. His thin dry lips twisted upward in an attempt to smile even as his eyes struggled to twinkle. “Little people,” he said hoarsely, and licked his dry lips.

“Goodness,” screeched Amaranth, “does he intend to eat us?”

“What!” screamed Dinodas and held up his sword in reflex, his young body trembled.

“No, he does not!” Barocas said calmly as he sheathed his rusted short sword. “He is an old wizard, I have heard of him on my travels, though this is the first time I have seen his so close.”
The tall old man cocked his head and smiled down at the three hobbits, his long bony fingers of each hand clasped each other in a grip of satisfaction and salutation.

“Where are you off to, my little friends?” he croaked, his eyes twinkling.

“We seek others like us and we will travel to Bree for supplies before we embark on our journey.” Dinodas piped up, now feeling completely at ease with this bright-eyed stranger.

“This is Barocas, this Dinodas and I am Amaranth,” the plucky hobbit lass joined in, “What is you name?”

“It’s best we not know,” interrupted Barocas, “Lest some enemy of his capture us and torture us to find out his whereabouts and real name.”

“Well, I never…” objected the old man.

“Tell us how you travel with such swift speed without a mount…” Dinodas asked innocently, and Barocas smiled, relieved for having the topic being changed.

“I run…” replied the old man, a look of dejection clouded his face.

“Right!” said Barocas, “We have to be on our way.”

“I have seen others like you, over beyond the misty mountains.” The old man cackled, feeling important all of a sudden.

“Good!” replied Barocas, half smiling, “We were headed that way anyhow, now we can be further motivated. Fare well, old wizard.”

“But, I…”

“Goodbye!” cried the three hobbits in unison and kicked their ponies onward, leaving the old man gaping.

“I was hoping for a good meal and a smoke,” he mumbled to himself, “And maybe tell of a few good tales while we were at it, but… ah, impetuous children, let them run off.”

With that the old man flopped himself down on the hard ground, whipped out a pipe and began stuffing pipe weed into it, humming himself a sad tune.

When the three hobbits reached the make shift gates of Bree, it had grown quite dark and clouded. Little silvered flecks of snow drifted down all around them. Filling the atmosphere with a sense of charmed euphoria and wonderment. But soon the stale rank of the surrounding town that struggled to grow brought the three intrepid adventurers back to reality. Dismounting, Barocas proceeded to ring the bell at the gates.

[Susan Delgado]

Wasn't pipeweed not planted until about a thousand years after the founding of the Shire?

Amaranth looked around uneasily. She didn't like the look of the wall or the feel of the air around this place. Just as Baracas' hand closed around the bell pull, she said, "Wait!"
He turned around curiously. "What, lass?"
"I really don't like the way this place feels. Do we have to stop here?"
Dinodas nodded slowly. "You know, she's right, Baracas. It feels like it's...waiting for something."
Baracas looked skeptical-he felt nothing of the kind-but shrugged and turned away from the gate, bell unrung. "Aye, all right," He responded. "We can go around the hill to Staddle. There's (sic) more of us there anyway."
Amaranth sighed in relief. "Thanks, Barky."
"I told you not to call me that," He growled in response. Dinodas smiled and Amaranth suppressed a giggle.

Halfway around the hill, a sturdy looking Hobbit rode around a bend in the path and stopped when he saw them.
"Hello!" he called out cheerfully. "Hey, you two look familiar. Are you Messengers, by chance?"
"Aye, that we are," Baracas answered. "I'm Baracas, that's Dinodas, and the girl's Amaranth, one of the Lost Hobbits."
Amaranth snorted at the title and scratched Olla arounnd the ears.

"Oh, good, good. You've done better than we have, then. I'm Erling Greenhands. And that's Hob," He said, indicating the Hobbit who'd just come around the hill.
"Hob, here's some Messengers. Baracas and Dinodas, and Amaranth, a lass they found along the way," He indicated each Hobbit as he named them and Hob nodded in greeting.
Erling continued, "If you're looking for Hobbits here, don't bother. They all seem very eager to stay right where they are. But I've heard there are some villages North of here."
"Aye, that's where we're going. We were really just passing through this area," Baracas said, although he glanced wistfully up at the hill. He'd hoped for some hospitality; this was probably the last real town they'd see for a while. With a sigh, he turned back to Erling and Hob. "Well, I suppose we'd better be on. We'll go North from here and see what we see. Good luck to ye."
Erling nodded. "And to you."
With that, the five of them separated and went their own ways.

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Rose Cotton]

Rose had heard many tales about how terrible the race of man were. They were a common horror story umong her folk. But Eärendur was the first one she had actually ever met. She thought that the things she heard must be just silly tales. There must be cruel men of course but they wern't all bad.

[Mithadan]

[Reserved for plot adjustment]

[ September 13, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Aradaewen]

<>*squeezes creative fruit, collects creative juice in cup, and gives to Ithaeliel* [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]<>

Pippin watched Ardo make his introductions at the Goodbody's door. Smiling, he walked away and knocked at the door next to it, second in a row of four or five. There were no discordant arguements before the door opened, only a faint, "Just a minute!" When the door swung open, Pippin was confronted with a young hobbit-lass about his own age. (if he knew how old he was) She smiled, a trifle confused, and asked politely, "May I help you, sir?" Pippin found his voice with difficulty and said, "Yes'm, I'm Pippin, one of the Messengers of the Shire. Have you heard of it?"

When she shook her head, he continued. "We are sending out representatives into the surrounding country-side to advertise our Shire to the hobbits that might need a safe and prosperous place to live. There is plenty of room, and we welcome all. Are you interested, miss?" he finished, tentatively. She looked at him, consideringly. "I might," she said slowly, and Pippin's heart leaped- "but I need to ask my father. Would you like to come in?" Pippin's spirits slipped a bit, but he nodded and followed her in the door, which gently closed behind him.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

A day's journey out from Staddle, Erling, Hob and their ponies had stopped with the setting sun. Barrow mounds rose like gentle rebukes around them. But Erling figured that if he respected the dead, the dead would respect him. Hob's hermitlike manner ought to find favor as well. That is, if wights were capable of pitying travellers who meant no harm by walking the road where duty led on a mission of peace.

Erling followed Hob's lead, sharing a supper in comfortable quiet of dried beef, mushrooms, blackberries, seedcake, and wintergreen tea. Only muted thrushes and tentative crickets sometimes pushed their voices through deep layers of silence guarded by faint whisperings.

It was an hour after sunset when the wind and the whisperings rose in intensity. Hob and Erling were currying their ponies, having seen to their feeding and watering. The two Hobbits turned to each other simultaneously. The fur curled upwards on their toes as if sensing a nameless menace. Ground fog rolled in. "Let's get out of here."

Putting out the fire, the Hobbits noticed that though they were surrounded by mist, the sky directly above was clear except for thin veils of cloud. One of these veils covered the half-moon. But instead of being dimmed, the moon glowed twice its size, encircled by a halo. "Why, we don't hardly needs a torch to see, but let's carry one for protection." Erling nodded agreement at Hob's suggestion.

The messengers and their animals travelled until they passed through the border of fog and the white-gold moonshadow dissipated. At last they stopped for the night, made a campfire, and settled down to rest.

Now Erling, being a Fallohide and preferring the hunt to farming, was carrying a fowler's net. Before going to sleep under the blue blanket given him by Mrs. Broadbelt, he set up this net. Perhaps in the morning, he might find a game bird caught therein for breakfast ... maybe a duck, quail, or pheasant.

While Erling slept, the tin tube containing the Gathering-In scroll with the message he'd been commissioned to read to wandering Hobbits fell from out his backpack. The tin tube lay next to the campfire, shiny and glinting in the reflected firelight.

[ September 14, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

The crow had quite forgotten how revitalizing elvish food could be. He had been quite tired when he first came to the stable to find the Ranger. Now he found himself wide awake and thinking about how he might gather information on these so-called Messengers. He supposed he could wait until they made it further East, but knowing hobbits and their ability to be distracted, he would probably be a greying, bedraggled oldster before any of them made it this far.

He sighed. 'Nothing to do, then,' he told himself, 'but to start toward them.' He ruffled his feathers and flapped his wings a few times to stretch them.

He glided silently from the stable and out into the night. The bright half moon was his only companion, as he flew westward, over the Misty Mountains, cold and silent beneath him.

Tired at last, he dropped down lower to spy out a safe place to catch a few hours sleep. A large tree invited him closer, and he made his way to a well hidden branch in the midst of it.

The smell of a campfire, now died down to glowing embers, came to him. He noted the forms of two small figures lying next to it. 'Well!' he said to himself. 'It seems I've found me some hobbits. I'll just wait here til they awaken and then see what they are up to.' He settled himself down on the branch, and was just ready to tuck his head beneath a wing, when an ember from the fire blazed up a little, and the fallen metal tube glinted for just a brief moment in the flame.

One moment was enough to catch the curious crow's eye. 'What's this?' he said, now coming wide awake. 'A pretty thing, if ever I've seen one!'

He glided down toward the ground, making his way toward the tin tube. His attention was wholly engaged by the prize, now easily within his reach.

[ September 14, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Suddenly the crow stopped in mid-flight, wings spread wide apart, dangling between heaven and earth. Caught, in an invisible mesh ...

The stick supporting the fowling net snapped, sending the hopelessly entangled crow sprawling to the ground. The more Camlost struggled, the more closely was he bound in the net.

[ September 14, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]