Resistance RPG

[Arvedui III]

October 31st

The fire had already flicked and died, leaving only embers to desperately linger on into the night. Leaves rustled lazily, and the stars wield overhead, dancing slowly in their courses. But something very unusual was taking place: Brass was thinking.While he still held firmly to the belief that thinking was best left to those who were good at it, and the only types of decisions he needed to make involved dinner, Brass felt that tonight should be an exception. So now he stared, somewhat detached, up at the stars and thought.

Why would Hob go? Come to that, Brass fellow, why would he stay? Why're you staying, more importantly? Well, I guess orders are orders. No difference between a new lock and new rules for the Tooks. Well, maybe they're a bit different. But, why did Hob go? Maybe the food? No, Hob never ate all that much. The weed? No, that's not it either. We're supposed to get lots after this business is done.

That Josh fellow, then? Maybe. He seemed to be a good enough hobbit. Better than Olo anyhow. ‘When the sun peeks above the horizon,' indeed! ‘Course I know what dawn is; It's when they kick you out of the Green during Yule, is all. The lass? Hmm, that might be it. The lass. Well, if the big folk are really out there, you'll be glad you don't have a lass before the end, Olbard Stonetoe. Poor Hob, though.

Feeling satisfied, Brass allowed the dull ache on his forehead to finally halt his musings and his weary eyes to close. Dawn was close.

[ October 19, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[piosenniel]

Lyra's post - November 1st

Josh hurried the party along as they approached the outskirts of Longbottom. They'd started late after all the excitements of the day before, and it would have been even later with Niluial shouting. Josh smiled at the memory, she seemed more than a little rattled at the moment. Typical girl, she shouldn't have come. Then he saw Cami striding ahead with Hob, the only person who needed no urging to hurry, and changed his opinion.

Joah himself felt better now. Hard walking had strengthened his leg muscles again, and the freedom of just using your own two legs to travel wherever you want had come back to him. He vowed to keep up his rambles after all the madness had died down.

They were heading into town to make inquiries of the storekeepers as to whether they would sell them any Leaf. Paladin had doubted they would, but thought it was the best place to start. Stores were checked and often guarded by the big men, and the keepers would probably be too scared to give them any large supplies of pipeweed. Josh thought that an out of the way farm would be the best place to go.

During the late morning he was proved right, as storekeepers turned them away one after another. Most looked around and over their shoulders, as though they believed Josh and the others were Shirriffs in disguise, come to check their loyalty to the Chief. None of them would promise not to tell Shirriffs or big men if they asked after them. Josh felt a horrible sick feeling in his stoumach as he realised what the Shire had become- full of suspicion, pettiness and fear. Somehow word got around, and even people in the lanes gave them a wide berth as if to show watching eyes that they had no part in whatever might be happening. At the first sign of cockaded hats turning a corner, the party left Lonbottom in a hurry.

They ate a quick luncheon on the road, and then began making inquiries at the farms. Farmfolk, who suffered less frequent visits from the Big Folk were slightly more sympathetic. None felt they could risk suddenly disposing of such a large part of their harvest, but more than one invited them in for a mug of something and a bite. Josh only alowed them once, than much to Dury's disgust refused all the other invitations. A few farmers told Josh how much they admired and supported the efforts of the Tooks.

Yes, from your farmstead you do he thought cynically, then told himself off. What could he expect them to do? There was no organisation down here, no leader like Paladin. Or if there had been he would be in the Lockholes now, it wasn't as easy to guard as the Tookland down here.

The sun was just beginning to go down behind the hills when they came to a small, slightly run down farm. Wearily they approached it as they had more than a dozen others, rapping on the door as they saw no-one in the farmyard. The door was opened by a lass of somewhere betwen 10 and 15, followed by her mother, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Yes?" she asked, frowning slightly at the sight of so many Hobbits huddled in her doorway.
"Good day Mistress" Josh said politely, touching his forehead. He had no hat to doff or he would have. "We have come a long way to try to find someone with some of your fine Longbottom Leaf to sell. We can pay plenty. Would you be able to help us?"

The matron frowned deeper and placed her hands on her hips.
"You're not from around here" she said "but you must know that we're not supposed to sell to anyone but the Big Folk. Are you suggesting we get ourselves thrown into the Lockholes?"
"No" Josh answered. "But who gives the Big Folk the right to decide who gets Leaf? We know they pay you very little. We can give you he sort of prices you used to get"

A look of interest crossed her face and she appeared to think deeply. Excitement crept up inside Josh again. He had thought it would be easy, but as the day had gone on he'd felt very discouraged. This lady seemed more likely than anyone yet to sell them the Leaf they needed.
"I'll have to talk to my husband of course" she said slowly, drawing out the syllables.
"Of course" Josh agreed, nodding vigorously.

The matron walked around a corner of the farmyard and raised her hand to her head as she squinted towards the sunset.
"Bert" she called loudly.
"Coming" the answer drifted back.
She returned to the doorstep, and they stood in silence for a while.

Finally Cami took charge.
"So how is life down here?" she asked the farmer's wife. "Times must have been hard. Are these all your children?" she asked, indicating the first girl and two other lasses.
"No" the woman answered. "I have seven all told. Time's have been very hard for a big family. Those Big Folks don't pay well, and sometimes they don't pay at all" she added, shaking her head.
"Sill, your girls are very handsome" Cami told her.

Josh smiled and gave up listening as they began to discuss the children. Meanwhile Niluial was talking to one of the little girls. The other acted shy and ran behind her mother. Everything seemed to be going very well, Josh thought, as the farmer approached them.

"Well" he asked with narrowed eyes "what do all these folks want Tansy?"


To be continued later today... or if anyone wants to take over from now, feel free!

[piosenniel]

Child's post - The hobbits strike a deal - November 1

Tansy smiled at her husband cupping her hand over his, as she gently leaned closer and whispered a few words in his ear. He responded in kind. This guarded conversation continued for several minutes, until Bert stepped forward and carefully scrutinized the rag-tag band, finally nodding his head in agreement, "Alright, Missus. I suppose no harm can come from lettin' 'em in the kitchen to warm themselves and talk a spell."

With that, the farmer strode over to Josh and pointed the way towards a cozy room just off the hall that featured a number of sturdy chairs around an old wooden table. Along the wall was a blazing hearth fire where a pot of vegetable stew simmered in preparation for supper. Tansy bustled over with a tray of steaming mugs, each of them filled to the brim with hot cider, and a plate of sweet honey muffins, the very last in her cupboard although she was careful not to mention that to her guests.

Josh and the farmer sat by themselves near the firepit, purposely keeping their voices low so that others could not hear what they were saying. The children scampered in and out, each one showing off their favorite toy or trinket for Cami or Niluial, so that the late afternoon passed quite pleasantly.

At the end of about an hour, Josh called his companions over to listen to what the farmer had to say. Bert brought out a good sized box overflowing with pipeweed, which was passed around so everyone could share.

Then the farmer cleared his throat and began speaking, "I can't tell you how hard it's been. I guess it's 'cause this is where the pipeweed is, but the place has been crawlin' with bad 'uns. The Chief's men are far from the worst, or even Ferny's. We've had other folk passin' through. Real bad folk.... Folk who are sent down by Sharkey...."

The farmer turned and shook his head in disapproval, stopping to tamp his pipe. "Just this past week, I had dealins' with one fellow who'd only see me in the dead of night. Wanted to buy some weed for Sharkey, or so he claimed. Looked more like an animal than a man to my way of thinking. I finally gave 'em five bags of the stuff jest to git him out of my sight."

He glanced over at his wife who looked up with worried eyes, "I didn't mention this before. No use gittin' you and the little 'uns upset. But this fellow gave me the shivers. Big vacant eyes with deep shadows. He kept lookin' at Jud and me like we was some kind of prey. I was plenty glad that we was together. Otherwise who knows what he might of done!"

"No! I had enough of the like of 'im. We're half starvin' anyway. They come and drag off the stuff and don't even pay for it."

He turned and stared at Josh, "You be lucky up there in Tukland where folk can still enjoy their home and hearth! Pay me a decent price and I'll load down the pony with bags of weed. Nothin' on the bags to show where they come from. And I'm trustin' you to keep yer bargain and say nothin' of our dealins'"

Josh stood up and grinned ear to ear, hardly believing his good fortune. He hadn't been certain what the farmer would say. "You have our word," Josh assured him.

"You lads can bed down in the animal's shed, and the lasses can stay in the house with my girls." He nodded toward Cami and Niluial.

The hobbits ran up to Bert and shook his hand; Cami tiptoed close and placed a kiss on his cheek whispering that he was a "dear, dear hobbit".

"Enough of that now," he teased, shyly pulling away. "Just be careful to keep yer noses under cover so no one sees you. I'll git you off at early morn with a good, hot breakfast."

Josh counted out the coins fair and square for Bert and Tansy and shook hands on the deal, promising that he would never tell anyone where the pipeweed came from, except for Thain Paladin.

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

Cami and Hob have a serious discussion:

It was a pleasant enough evening as the sun set over the farm and the hobbits enjoyed a modest meal with the farmer and his family. Josh managed to go off into the fields with his bow and came back with a brace of conies that were quickly skinned and added to the stew pot to simmer for the last hour.

Hob sat with his arm wound tightly about Cami's waist as the couple discussed everything that had happened earlier in the day. He had stuffed his Shirriff's hat into his back pocket with the feather all scrunched down so no one could possibly see it. He stared out sadly at the fields of weed and shook his head. "So much goodness and plenty. Enough for everyone to share. Why does it have to be like this?"

Cami shook her head and sighed. There really was no answer that would explain why things were the way they were.

"I was such a fool," Hob continued, barely speaking above a whisper. "I didn't know that workin' as a Shirriff meant siding with the kind of fellow that Bert described. It makes me feel like a real rounder." His shoulders sagged slightly as he thought back on the past few days and wondered why he hadn't had courage to break loose from the Chief. "I knew it was wrong," he muttered to himself. "I knew it was wrong but it just seemed so hard."

Hobb glanced towards the setting sun and then back at Cami. In response, she slid her body into the crook of his arm and leaned against him, lowering her head on his chest and nestling closer. Then he spoke out in a clear, quiet voice, "Cami Goodchild, I won't let you down again. Not today or tomorrow. I'll do what I can to stand up against these thugs. You'll see. You'll be proud of me. And when this is all said and done, the two of us will wed."

She reached her hands upward and stroked his curls, while he leaned over and sealed their bargain with a kiss full of promise and longing.

[ October 19, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

November 1st – mid-morning to night

With nothing to do, the men hung about their rude camp, spending their time in sharpening their weapons and making sure their boiled leather vests and arm braces were in good working order. At some point, a confrontation was expected. Best to be prepared and protected.

‘Those Shiriffs gonna meet up with us any time soon?’ asked Ahriman, oiling his blade.

Assiram grunted. ‘Who knows? They’re Hobbits. They’re unreliable at best and a liability at worst. They’d better be able to take care of themselves when we meet up with that so called Resistance.’ His companions both laughed at this. ‘I can tell you this,’ he went on, ‘when it comes down to the fighting, it’s every Man for himself as far as I’m concerned.’ Helios and Ahriman narrowed their eyes at this comment. They had had the same thoughts, wondering who might be left standing to claim Ferny’s promised payment for the job – all the payment, not just a third.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Late that night, as Ahriman took his turn at the watch, he was just about to doze off when he heard a scuffling in the thicket on the north perimeter of the camp. And the sound of two low voices whispering back and forth to one another. He poked Assiram, lying nearby, in the side and leaned near, whispering.

Assiram rose up, sword in hand, his eyes straining to catch sight of the intruders. He motioned Ahriman, and Helios, who had been roused by the small commotion, to go round to the sides if the thicket. He stepped toward the thicket, and beyond the circle of light thrown by their small fire.

‘Come out and show yourselves!’ he cried. ‘Let me see your faces before we run you through!’

[Imladris]

November 1st

Olo groaned and wondered if his legs could manage to pump himself forward much longer. Brass was lagging behind, apparently lost in thought: that was strange, since it seemed the hobbit never strayed into that troublesome realm and was mostly thinking about food and pleasant times...no matter. Actually, the thought of food seemed quite delightful and Olo was actually beginning to miss his hobbit hole a little: ah, but his piddley riches were nothin' compared to the Tooks. Once this job for Ferney was over, he was done with the bastard. Olo considered to himself why he had ever had dealings with the man: Ferney wasn't all that smart, though he thought he was; he was dirty. greasy, oily, filthy, and took up with unreliable oafs like the men they were supposed to have met with. Yet still he was a good source of information and could be played easily...Olo shook his head.

Lifting his eyes, he saw a trail of smoke drift faintly from a nearby thicket. "Brass," he hissed, "lookee over there!"

"Smoke," Brass whispered back as he plopped to the ground and began to rub his sore muscles. He sniffed appreciatively and said, "Lingering smell of dinner, too."

Grasping Brass by the lapels of his homespun jacket, Olo propelled him towards the thicket and said, "We just have to see who's there: hopefully it'll be our big, strong, brainless, greedy, orcish friends."

"Friends?" said Brass puzzled.

"Yes. They are here to help us, supposedly, but we all know what they really want is the loot (all Big Folk are that way), but there are appearances that have to be kept up," said Olo, condescendinly. He was being nicer to Brass than he normally was: probably because he was so tired.

"Isn't that what we want: the loot?" asked Brass as they crept towards the thicket.

"Shut yer trap," Olo spat as he kneeled down and peered into the thicket. Three men were sprawled around the smoldering remains of a camp fire: they looked like Ferney's type. Despite the fact that they were supposedly friends, Olo was slightly afraid of them and wondered how to best go about waking them. "I think we found them," he said in a barely perceptible whisper. "Brass? .... Brass?" Turning irately, he saw that the hobbit had fallen fast asleep just outside the thicket. Irately, forgetting that he was supposed to be quiet, he tromped out of the thicket and slapped Brass's face.

"Come out and show yourselves! Let me see your faces before I run you through!"

Brass and Olo both froze and glanced quicly at each other. Standing and shrugging, Olo straightened his shirrif-cap so that it assumed a somewhat jaunty air (as jaunty as it could be considering it was much too early in the morning) Olo strode boldy along, with Brass in tow, and saw that Assiram was pointing a sword at him.

Glancing down his nose with as much derisive scorn as he could muster in his muddied clothes and legs that trembled from weariness, he said, "Run you through indeed! As if you could skewer a pig with that thing! If your capability with the use of a weapon relates to your ability torondezvous, I believe we are quite safe from the likes of you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brass give a short firm nod in agreement.

"What's the blighter mumbling?" asked one of the men who stretched liesurely by the fire.

"Blimey, I think it's our shiriffs," said Assiram. "Except they got their story wrong," he said, scowling. "Our ability to ron-de-vou? You were the one that wasn't in the right place at the right time!"

"What do ye mean?" asked Olo loftily. "Think you that you were right? Why, you bumbling fools haven't even lived in the Shire for a year while I have lived in it my entire life. You probably lost your way and thought you were in the right spot. You poor deluded souls," he said in mock sympathy, "waiting for us, fondly imagining that you were right and we hobbits were mistaken. What a pitiful state do affairs become when men are blinded by such extreme pride."

The three men stared at each other, probably only getting half of what Olo was saying. Assiram grunted and sheathed his sword. "Alright, you simpletons," he said. "You can say and holler that you were right an' we was wrong, but that don't change the truth now does it?" he said leering at his cronies.

"Stop this nonsense," Olo commanded. "While you were waisting your time and raiding farmsteads instead o' meeting us, we ran into a slight hitch. There's a band of hobbits --" he began to use choice language describing this band and Hob in particular --" and they went to get some leaf from some stupid farmer. One o' our men --" grimace here -- "proved to be a traitor and deserted to them."

"Why should we care?" asked Ahiram, raising an eyebrow. "Why should we care about your problems."

Stifling a sigh, Olo said tightly, "They're stealing your leaf...mates," he added pleasantly (but Brass new Olo enough to know that he was inwardly cursing and swearing all of them.)

Dark frowns gathered and brewed upon the men's foreheads and Assiram said, "Now that does pose a problem. Helios, douse the fire, Ahiram, pack the camp.!

"Wait!" Hob shrieked, collapsing to the ground, "What about breakfast, or even second breakfast."

"Yeah, mates!" Olo chimed in, thinking that Brass really did have brains.

"What do ya mean 'second breakfast'" asked Assiram. "Why should we give you some of our food and wait for you to finish thereby loosing our time?"

"Because we were the ones who notified you about the blasted Resistance!" Olo shouted. "Ye owe us one, Scaliwags!"

"We owe them one?" asked Assiram to his fellows. "They just didn't meet us at the right place and time thereby making it difficult for us."

"I thought we had cleared this problem up," said Olo with some difficulty.

"Obviously not," said Assiram.

"We are not moving," said Olo and Brass together. "Not until breakfast, leastways."

"You'll move, and you'll come with us," said Assiram angrily, as he gestured to his two cohorts. With a shrug, they strode towards the hobbits and lifted them bodily to their shoulders.

"Let us go!" they shrieked, Olo biting and kicking the men violently. "Put us down!"

"We don't have time to deal with the likes o' you," said Assiram coldly. "We have our leaf an' other loot to get...as well as to stop the rebellion," he added as an afterthought.

[ October 20, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[piosenniel]

Tightly gripped by the two men, the Shiriff’s were carried to the picketed horses and sat one each to the front of Helios’ and Ahriman’s saddles. The men mounted hastily after them, hissing at the protesting Hobbits to keep their gobs shut. ‘Sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner we part company,’ growled Assiram as he rode past the other two and took the lead.

It would take them the better part of the night to reach the area down south where the pipeweed farms were located. They stopped once – to pull some old, hard waybread from their packs, grudgingly shared with their Hobbit companions, and take a pull from their waterskins . . .

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Josh leaned back contentedly and looked at the stars above him. It was good to have a proper bellyful from a proper Hobbit farm. That was one thing he had missed on the road. When Bert had offered the Hobbits the barn to sleep in, Josh had refused for his part. It was quite beautiful to look up at those stars that had been there for so long, looking down on man, beast, Hobbit, Elf and all.

Things like Pipeweed must seem rather small to them. Hobbits must seem rather small altogether! Perhaps that was right though- a small problem for a small people. Josh suddenly realised that he didn't mind being small and unimportant. Perhaps he would never meet the Elves like Bilbo Baggins, but with the Chief and his cronies out of the way he could live happily. He realised that in the end, that was what mattered. With a sigh of contentment he rolled over and slept.

NOVEMBER 2

He felt a lot less contented in the morning when he was shaken awake.
"Whassappenin?" he asked slurriedly, opening his eyes to see a concerned blonde face- no, face with blonde hair- looking down at him.

"You have to get up or we'll be late" Niluial said, shaking his shoulder again.
"Fine" he answered yawning and stretching. He stood up. From somewhere the smell of bacon was radiating around the farmyard. Josh followed his nose to the feast.

After eating, the Hobbits thanked their hosts and packed up. Josh offered Bert a copper coin for the food.
"Nay" the old Hobbit answered "I may not be one of those who'll fight for this place, but I'll help you all I can. You're welcome to some food. I've packed up some apples for you, but don't tell Tansy."

Josh tried to give the coin to Tansy, who smiled and pushed a package into his hand.
"Bread and cheese" she said with a wink. "But don't tell Bert"

Josh smiled. Hobbits!, he thought, shaking his head.

[Child of the 7th Age]

November 2

Cami listened carefully while Josh stood in front of the group just as they were about to leave the farmhouse. "We're homeward bound," he assured his friends. Cami's sturdy pony Dandelion was loaded down with several large burlap bags filled with pipeweed. Smaller packets of weed had been tucked away in packs and satchels strapped to the hobbits' waists and backs. Josh grinned and nodded at his companions. "We did everything Paladin asked us to do. Let's keep our eyes open. This may be the most dangerous part. We'll cut through the open fields and keep off the roads. Who knows if the Shirriffs have ridden off to get help from Ferny's men?"

With this final sobering thought, the band set out in a northerly direction winding through the tall grasses of the meadows and staying within the shelter of whatever overhanging bushes and shrubs they could find. Still, in many places, there was no cover at all. They were silhouetted starkly against the horizon, clearly visible to whoever might be riding or walking nearby. Neither Josh nor Hob felt terribly comfortable with this, but there was little that could be done to alleviate the situation.

Only about ten miles into their journey, they came to a place where the grassy flatlands gave way to some small rolling hills. The first rays of the sun were just spilling over the dappled hilltop on which they'd stopped for a moment, when Josh came over and hastily latched onto Hob's sleeve pointing urgently to the plains below. In clear view, not more than half a mile distant, three mounts came trotting wearily overland, making their way slowly through the bracken. There seemed to be a man mounted on each of the horses; two of them had an additional passenger--small, huddled figures about the same size as a hobbit who were precariously perched on the front of the saddle.

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

[piosenniel]

It had been a long night of riding; made worse by the presence of the two Shiriff’s who protested continuously. More than a few times, Assiram had to halt his mount and ride back. One or the other of the Hobbits had pushed the man they rode with to his limit and were in danger of getting tossed to the ground like so much useless baggage.

‘I don’t see why we have to bring them,’ growled Ahriman, dangling Brass over the ground. ‘There’re three of us. We can take care of any group of scurvy Shire rats.’

Assiram pulled Brass onto the saddle in front of him and glared at Ahriman. ‘The rats have sharp teeth, you fool. Let their own kind take care of what they can, leaving us to finish up if necessary.’

The sun was just peeking over the small rise to the east. Assiram shaded his eyes and scanned the distance. Through the light fog wavering up from the damp ground a number of small dark figures could be seen silhouetted against the light morning sky. Seven squat figures about half a mile away – their back all humped up from the stuffed packs they carried. In their midst, looking like some grotesquely plump and lumpy caricature on short skinny legs, was a pony, loaded to the breaking point with bundles. One of the figures clinging on to another’s arm pointed toward them.

‘Who’s that?’ hissed Assiram to Brass. Helios came trotting up alongside him to see what the delay was, and Assiram nodded toward the figures on the hill. Olo, narrowing his eyes as he strained to pick out the features of the group, murmured to himself as he counted them. ‘Seven . . . that’s right . . .’

‘Seven, who? Is that who we’ve been looking for?’ Ahriman rode up to the other two men, drawing his sword.

‘Falco, Tim, Niluial, Dury, Josh, and that traitor Hob,’ the Hobbits said, taking up where the other left off. ‘Thos’re the names we heard. That female – that’s the one that turned Hob from his duty. Can’t say as we caught her name.’ Brass looked appraisingly at the packs on the figures in the distance and on the pony. ‘And there’s your pipeweed! Looks to me they were successful in their hunt for it.’

The men and Shiriffs drew their weapons, galloping through the bracken on the plain and then upward toward the line of Hobbits on the hill’s crest. They halted their horses only a few yards from the resistors.

‘Oy! Throw down your weapons, you vermin!’ came the menacing command of Assiram . . .

[ October 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Josh gulped. Well, this was it. Time for that adventure after all! A part of him wished he'd stayed at home in bed, but it was too late for regrets now. They were coming closer.
'Oy! Throw down your weapons, you vermin!’ one of the men called in a fierce voice.

"Don't listen" Josh said quietly. "There are more of us, and we certainly have the advantage of being more intelligent."
"I wouldn't count on Brass to do any fighting anyway" Hob added in the same undertone.

Quietly all the Hobbits began to take off their bags and packs, and prepare to fight.
"We can beat them" Josh said determinedly.

Without warning the men charged towards them yelling. The fight had begun.

[Imladris]

Olo sighed in irritation. He had heard it all before. They would be ordered to drop their weapons, and with that order they just might comply. Then they would be commanded to give up the Leaf, which assuredly they would deny that they had or they would refuse point blank. Then after that it would be a show of arms and then the hobbits would be put their mangy tails between their legs and go howling off somewhere -- probably to the old Took's place.

He could scarcely believe it when he saw them unshoulder their packs and make for their weapons: it was like a rabbit threatening some trolls. He frowned at Josias, but the young hobbit wasn't looking at Olo. He looked at Brass, and saw that his round hobbit face was blanching until it was a pale as paper.

Screaming, the man behind him drove his heals into the horse and charged the hobbit group. Terrified, a shrill shriek issued from Olo's mouth as he managed to roll from the horse's back. He landed solidly on the ground, gasping for breath. He saw the men, the orkish men, whirling at the hobbits, their swords flashing in the pleasant sun and the hobbits scurrying away like rats.

Peering into the mele, he looked for Brass but didn't see him. He decided whether he should join in the fight, but decided against it. In the fight, he could be killed by either one party or another. If he staid put he would win either way: if the hobbits proved victorious (doubtful), he would beg on bended knee for their forgiveness (which they would surely, if grudgingly grant) and plead that he had had a change of heart. Hob, of course, would be smart enough to see through the charade, probably, but he didn't matter. If the men would, they'd continue to treat him like a sack of potatoes which, though far from comfortable, was much better than feeling steel within your gut.

Looking around, Olo saw a grove of trees which offered convenient shelter. Edging closer to the fight, he crept towards it, trying to tune out the shouts of agony and fear. Hob was putting up a stout fight he saw, the two hobbit lasses were back to back, but he couldn't see if they were fighting per se, Josias and another were tackling a man. Olo felt a hand close upon his the collar of his jacket, heaving him off the ground like a kitten. "You'll help, you scurvy vermin," Assiram hissed.

Out of the courner of his eye, Olo saw that Helios had become unhorsed. The beast reared violently and neighed shrilly. It whirled around, charging for the same grove of trees Olo had been nearing. As the horse neared them, a last effort thought flashed through Olo's brain: twisting out of the man's grasp who was leaping away from the mad beast, Olo managed to hit the ground and struggled to roll away from the horse. But, as fate would have it, he lay prone, his head knocked upon the stone, and his life's spirit was trampled beneath the hooves of the horse.

[piosenniel]

‘Damnable Hobbit!’ Assiram shouted after the escaping Shirriff. ‘Get back here and show a little backbone!’ Assiram leaned down to try and catch Olo, but it was no use. He watched as the Shirriff met his death beneath the hooves of the panicked horse.

‘No use fightin’ from our horses,’ yelled Assiram to Ahriman. ‘All the vermin due is scurry away like bugs!’ The two men drew near where Helios had gone down and dismounted. Their sword in one hand, knife in another, they advanced on the rag-tag group of Hobbits.

‘Give ‘em no quarter,’ growled Assiram low to his companions. ‘I’m sick to death of dealing with Hobbits. Get ‘em boys!’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami stood frozen on the hill as she watched Olo slip under the hooves of the rearing beast. One minute here and the next minute gone.... Life was too precarious.

Hob's reaction was far more direct. He had known Olo as a travel companion and, however irritating the hobbit had been, he did not deserve this fate, "Damnable thugs!" he muttered between gritted teeth. He ran over to Josh and spoke hastily, the two hobbits coming to a quick decision on how they wanted to mount an attack.

Josh summoned the band over, first sending Cami off with instructions, "Leave the weed here. Mount up on Dandelion. Take him behind the Men and stay at the base of the hill. Don't let them get by. We'll entice them to follow us. If they try to head back down, scare them with a volley of arrows."

"The rest of you," he said, addressing the others, "we want to surround them like a pack of dogs and draw the noose tight."

"What about Brass?" a voice piped up.

"Live 'im alone. Unless he comes out sword in hand. I've no quarrel with another hobbit."

"What happens after?" Dury asked.

Hob and Josh looked at each other warily and grinned in spite of themselves. It was Hob who responded first, "Try to take the Men down good and clean. We've got somethin' in mind."

With that Hob scurried down the hill raising up his arms and "hallooing" to the bandits. "Hey you beslubbering, beef-witted barnacles! I'm the one! The traitor who stuck you in the ribs. Come and git me...!" He raced up the hill with the Men thundering close behind.

[ October 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Arvedui III]

Things were happening too quickly. Sitting astride a frightened horse, Brass felt deaf dumb and blind all at once. The battle was hard enough to comprehend. Hob...that Josh fellow...a fight. The thought was so alien it went beyond horrifying him. Brass had just about worked up the nerve to accept what he was seeing, then Olo made his escape. Or tried to. It did not take any extra thinking on his part to realize Olo was dead. That thought struck him numb, and he forgot entirely where he was, or more importantly, the spooked horse he was ridding on.

In the beginning, Brass had throughly believed that the chief and all the sheriffs were out to only help the Shire. If that meant having big men do deeds in the night, then that was right. But, with the death of Olo, and at the hands, or hooves, of the big folk and their beasts, everything he had been told to think seemed so wrong he could scream. Olo was no the kindest of folk but he was still a hobbit, and in Brass's mind, that fact gave him an immutable right to die only when it was his time to go. Brass Stonetoe had never dreamed there was any other way things were done.

Before the young hobbit could ponder life and death further, Ahirman dismounted, leaving him to fare on a fully grown horse as he could. He lasted about five seconds. Tumbling onto grass that he thought was entirely too hard, Brass's senses awoke. He was lying in the middle of a field, the men were rushing the resistance hobbits, horses were running wild upon the grass, and Olo's mangled body lay not ten yards from him. In one deft motion, Brass sprang to his feet with his club in hand. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it yet, but it felt better to have the cool wooden handle in his palms nonetheless.

Well, what's to be done? Olo would've sided with the men, so, maybe I sho...No. You stick by your own folk, Brass Stonetoe. Olo's dead. Stick by your own folk. Only decent hobbit thing to do.

Rushing from behind with astonishing speed, Brass sped up to met the men. "Least one of ‘em's not yellow." One of them muttered, eying Brass. Giving his club one slow test swing, Brass yelled and raised his club toward Helios, making to take out his knees. It almost worked. It might have worked if Assirim chose that moment to look his way and cry a warning. Brass swing went wide, and he toppled forward onto the ground. Without think he rolled to the right, just as a blade punched into the spot he had just been in.

Scrambling to his feet, Brass started running as fast as his little leg could carry him toward the hobbits ahead of him. "Damn Vermin!" One of the men called, chasing after him. Brass knew it was futile, knew that they would catch him and end his life like Olo's, but he kept running. Suddenly on an impulse, he pivoted and turned to make a last fight, but the men outran him as he did so. Two of the men staggered and cursed, but kept running toward the hobbits. Helios, however, tripped then turn to face him, sword in hand.

Brass gulped and swung blindly before the big man could strike. This time, his aim was true. The man howled in pain as he tottered and fell, clutching the knee Brass had probably just broken. Feeling surprisingly satisfied, Brass began to pant and looked up ahead at the hobbits and men, now nearing each other, before he ran to join them.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The Resistence band had scampered halfway up the hill and then glanced around to survey the scene that was slowly being played out just underneath them. Hob's jaw dropped open in shock and amazement.....Brass! It couldn't be! Of all the sturdy lads he could think of, roly poly Brass was the the one he'd least suspect would have the courage to bring down a ruffian and thug.

Spontaneously, the companions cheered as they watched Brass rise triumphant over the prone body. Josh sprang forward beckoning the others to do the same, "Come on, mates. Can't let Brass do all the work."

Dury and Brass dragged the squalling, kicking form up the hill to where the bags of weed had been set and then tied him securely with a long stretch of rope, setting a guard to make sure he would not escape. Dazed by the pain in his leg, the man sprawled helplessly on the ground, cursing and bemoaning his embarassing fate.

The rest of the hobbits charged again, aiming at the two bandits still on their feet, with their staves and short blades boldly extended. "Surround 'em. Pull 'em off their mounts," Josh encouraged the others.

At the last instant Hob saw Assiram wallop his horse veering sideways and charging directly down the hill. Cami let loose a barrage of arrows and, although the Man and his horse did not turn back, the last thing she saw was the bandit tearing out across the countryside, with his behind several inches off the saddle and the shaft of an arrow protruding from the rear of his breeches, presumably from having grazed him in the side. He was in too much of a hurry to stop and remove it. With Josh in the lead, the hobbits turned and drew their circle tighter around the one remaining Man.

[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Seeing Assiram turn tail and disappear over the horizon, Helios jerked the reins to one side and whirled around, intending to run straight through the circle of hobbits, head down the hill, and make a run for it on his own. But his horse had different ideas. Faced with a phalanx of small but threatening figures who were each brandishing a stave or short blade in an agitated fashion, the animal lashed out kicking and squealing, rearing up on his hind legs and refusing to go forward.

It was Hob who slipped in underneath and sliding his dagger under the girth managed to cut half way through it before leaping over to the side. A minute more of bucking, and the saddle gave way, causing Helios to lose his seat and pitching him forward over the horse's head. The Man landed with a thud in the middle of a circle of angry hobbits.

Within a very short time, Helios had been trussed up like a turkey and dumped beside the other bandit, with one rib cracked and a lump on his head. He was barely half conscious.

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Josh stood beside Brass, his arm looped around the Shirriff's shoulders as they watched Niluial and Dury pull the ropes tighter and tie several sturdy knots to be sure the last of the captured men would not escape.

Several times, the Man muttered a string of curses under his breath, ruing the day that he had ever made his way into the Shire, and vowing to find a way to get revenge. Hob glared back at him impatiently, "Close your mouth. Just be glad you're alive. We could slit your throat ear-to-ear."

The other man, the first one captured, stared back belligerently, "So what are you gonna do to us if you're not gonna slit our throats?"

Josh turned casually back to the Men and grinned, "Well, this for a start..." signalling with his hand.

Within an instant, Hob had sprinted over from behind and deftly clubbed each of them on the back of the head with just enough force to knock them cold.

"That should keep 'em out for a good while and give 'em a nice headache when they awake. With their other wounds, I can't see them doing too much damage to any hobbits they meet."

"My thoughts exactly!" Josh responded. "Now, where'd those horses go?"

Cami came up leading one of the tall mounts. "This is the only one we could find. The other hightailed it out of here towards the northeast before we could put a rope on him."

Hob nodded approvingly, "One horse should do very nicely."

With that the hobbits worked diligently to hoist both the Men onto the horse. They heaved their bodies up so that they sprawled sideways across the animal's midsection and rump. Then they carefully checked them for weapons and removed anything that looked suspicious. Niluial had found a handful of feathers and soft down left over from a bird's nest; these were stuffed loosely into their mouths. Then Josh plopped bags over the Men's heads, and bound these at the neck so that neither of them would be able to wriggle free. More ropes were added to secure the two bodies to each other and finally to lash them onto the horse.

Meanwhile, Cami was tying a small pouch conspicuously on to the front pommel of the saddle. Inside was a note:

To any hobbits who should chance upon this,

These be evil men working for Ferny who tried to murder the Tooks! Fortunately, they did not succeed. They are unarmed and wounded, and should not pose a threat. Just give their mount a whack on the rear to send them on to the east, out of the Shire.

And if any of the Chief's men read this.....next time, we won't be so gentle. Stay out of the Shire and leave us alone.

Josh and the Resistence Band


Soft-hearted Cami looked over at Hob. "Are you sure it's alright to do this?"

Hob turned back to Cami and grinned, "It'll be fine. They can't hurt anyone."

Cami shook her head, "That's not what I meant. Are they going to be alright, the Men, I mean?"

Hob shook his head and laughed, a laugh that had a hard edge to it. "Cami, I've seen these and the other Men do horrible things to folk. They deserve every bad thing that's coming to them. If times were settled, we'd turn them over to the Shirriffs for an inquiry and a punishment. But we don't have that luxury. And we certainly can't spare any of the hobbits. Short of killing them outright, this is the best we can do."

"Anyways," he continued, "the horses will naturally head east, where they come from. I imagine they'll end up on the other side of the Brandywine far to the north and outside the Shire. That's where they belong."

With that, Josh gave the horse a good hard thump on the rear. The beast and his ungainly burden went trundling off across the meadow towards the Shirebourne River as the hobbits stood and watched. Once the distant figure had dwindled to a mere speck, Josh turned and spoke to the rest of the crew. "Let's get going. Load up the weed again. Our job is done. All I want to do is get home as fast as we can." With that, the band once again headed out in a northwesterly direction.

[Niluial]

Niluial’s heart stopped beating so fast, for a second she panicked and wished she had never come. Once they caught the evil men they tied them up with a thick rope. Niluial smiled a evil grin, she enjoyed capturing them. Niluial bent over to one of them and whispered in his ear “you deserve this you ugly orc-like being” and with that he spat in her face. Niluial flared up “Dury! Help me put these ropes tighter!” she hissed. Niluial and Dury tied the ropes tighter, so tight that the men found it hard to breath. Niluial smiled again and glared at the Shirriff's that spat in her face.

Once the Shirriffs had been harmed and sent off into the distance they all started packing again. They headed in a northwesterly direction. Niluial rode fast to catch up with Josh “Well done, I guess” Niluial said smiling at Josh.
“Ha, you should have seen yourself, I knew you had a temper but wow I never saw you so angry, what flared that up?” Josh asked while giggling.
Niluial leaned towards Josh and whispered “He spat in my face, it was so gross!”
“Hahaha, I am not asking anymore” He said trying to get breath in between the laughing and the talking.

[ October 26, 2003: Message edited by: Niluial ]

[Durelin]

Dury fingered the paper in his shirt pocket, listening intently to the crinkling sound it made as he pressed against it. All the while his thoughts raced, contrasting severely with the slow rhythm of sounds from the paper. Should he keep it? Would he have any reason to need it? Would Niluial take it? Should he even give it to anyone? Should he even make a reason to need it? Dury was certain that was what he was doing, if he planned to continue on this path. It was a path of resisting the law of some very powerful people. That would create a need for his letter. But, was there some other way the letter could reach his Mirda?

Dury had believed Niluial to be an excellent choice to insure the safety of the letter. Even these Shirrifs wouldn't harm a young woman...would they? Dury shivered a moment, glancing at the man he had just helped tie up. Perhaps...but, it was still his best chance. He could hope, at least. O, but that had become a familiar thing: hoping when all reasoning failed. Still, it all failed to raise his spirits.

Dury shifted on his feet, making a crinkling noise with the paper one last time before shuffling toward where Niluial stood talking to Josh. But should I interrupt them... Dury yelled at his own thoughts. Making excuses! Now, after all of that thinking?

"Er...Ni...Niluial?" The young hobbit lass turned to him from Josh, and Dury hurriedly made an apology for interrupting. His mind still told him his shouldn't have done so. "Could I ask you something?" There, no more stuttering. "A favor?"

For a moment Niluial looked at him strangely, obviously wondering what Dury could be talking about, asking a favor. But after a moment she said, "Yes, of course, Dury."

Dury immediately pulled her away from Josh a ways, anxious to get this over with while he had the voice. And the strength. "I was just wondering..." He paused to glance around nervously. "I was wondering if you would...would take this to my wife," he said slowly, carefully, and taking out the paper. Niluial received it with a look of wonder on her face. "But..what could you...?" Niluial stopped, and he mouth formed the shape of an 'o.' "Dury!" she pratically screeched. "You couldn't possibly think...You aren't that...It's outrageous!"

It was Dury's turn to look surprised. Of all the things he had expected...Niluial looked so...concerned. "I just...It just...I...It really would make me feel better. More at ease." He paused, not sure what to say, and Niluial opened her mouth to speak once more. Quickly, Dury found words to say. "Please, Niluial, for my peace of mind, do it! I doubt it will be needed, but I need to calm myself and continue with our...work."

Niluial sighed. "I doubt that you doubt that, but...if you truly need this..." She paused to look him in sternly the eyes. "Dury, try to doubt, not just hope." She smiled suddenly, though it was twinged with sadness. "Because you had best not leave poor Mirda with three little 'uns!"

All Dury could do was mirror Niluial's smile. "Thank you, Niluial. Thank you dearly." And it seemed enough.

[piosenniel]

Durelin’s post

It felt as if several overweight cats were pouncing around in his stomach as Dury took a step forward. His legs wished to give way beneath him, but he locked his knees and tossed his head, shaking it clear of countless unwanted thoughts. So many eyes were on him, more than had been in quite a while. And one set belonged to a very certain hobbit: Peregrin Took. Dury had heard the stories of this hobbit, and knew he had been gone a year from the Shire, suddenly returning alive and well with Meriadoc Brandybuck, his cousin. And Dury had seen what Pippin wore, what he still wore: metal and fine clothes, with a sword at his hip. A sword! And here he was, rallying all these crazy relatives of his and Dury's to fight. It was just more proof of how the Tooks and Brandybucks had so few brains! All these crackpot ideas...the whole resistance had arose from them, and now...now it went so far as...

"I-I..." he stammered hoarsely. He paused a moment to swallow. His throat burned. "I'll need a...a sword or any...weapon. But I don't think I'd be read to manage a bow and arrows..." He glanced around, feeling strange standing there, and feeling strangely confident. When had he felt confident before? When had agreeing with his forgettable relatives felt right? That hobbit, in his shiny metal and his wonderful clothes of Men, smiled at Dury. Peregrin's face had always looked so cheery, but now it took a smile to make it look so. Dury was not the only one who had changed on his adventure. And surely the Took had experienced so much more. Dury wished he could sigh. Why did everything have to change?

"Dury Greenhand." The smile had faded, and Pippin had returned to solemnity. "You are a hobbit of honor, of valor, of a good, strong heart. You will save your Shire, resisting in a way never done before. For your bravery, all will be rewarded."

For a moment Peregrin looked at Dury with that severe, but calm, face. Then all starkness was broken by another smile, and he continued, "Now that that little speech is over, we can see about that sword." He called to someone and that hobbit went running of. Then he turned back to Dury. "I truly meant all that, but..." he paused searching Dury's eyes. "...I believe you know that." Dury was taken aback, and his eyes widened a bit in surprise. That Took spoke of more than just his 'speech.' But what else did Dury know? His thoughts were interrupted by the return of Pippin's errant. Pippin took a sword from the hobbit, examining it. It looked much like the one belted around Pippin's waist, with a white tree embroidered onto the sheath and a black handle and pommel. Dury was handed the sword ceremoniously, and he pulled it from its sheath. Down the center of the blade ran a twisting vine, which sprouted into a star formed by eight separated points.

"It is a blade of Gondor. I believe you will be worthy of it."

Will be... This hobbit's words had been scrambling his brain, sending his thoughts into a maze of confusion, much too often. There were so many things that could be meant by what was said, and so many things that were brought to mind by them. Things that did not necessarily have anything to do with the original thought. Will be worthy of it? So, he was not now? Then why was he being given this blade?

"For now, you are borrowing. After you fight, you will be keeping a gift. That is why you have been given it. Soon you will have need of it."

Dury looked at Pippin, realizing he must have spoken his last thought aloud. "Yes, I'm afraid I will." He was not truly certain to which 'will' he spoke. Perhaps it was meant for both.
__________________________________________________ _____________________________________

Pio’s post - at the Battle of Bywater

Assiram hoped never to see those damnable Shire rats again! His legs were sore from holding his injured cheek off the saddle as he rode north. The paths over the Green Hills were rough at best, and he could not avoid a frequent jolt to his behind that sent an arrow of pain coursing from seat to shoulder as he tensed up his muscles to stifle it.

He had nearly used up his entire, and extensive, vocabulary of epithets and choice curses when he caught sight of a band of Men on The Great East Road, just west of Bywater. Ruffians, Sharkey’s men as he learned, were tramping towards the center of the rebellion, Bywater and Hobbiton, to take care of mutinous Hobbits that had risen against them.

There were close to a hundred of them that had come up from Waymeet, and along the way others had joined up with them. Brazen in their disregard for the rightful owners of the area they passed through, they came along with great flaming torches, setting fire to the grasses and croplands as they passed, terrorizing the few Hobbits they found along the way.

Assiram was glad to join them. Here was his chance to get back at the yellow-bellied vermin that had shot him. He dismounted, as they neared the Bywater Road and turned up it. Drawing his blade, he joined those in the rear of the band as they made their way between the high banks topped with hedges through which the road passed . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest, of course, is history.

Assiram did not, he would not, and in fact could not, follow Merry’s command to step back twenty paces . . . and sit down. He snorted as some of the ruffians did sit down, and he surged forward in an effort to lend his blade as others tried to assail the wagons which blocked their passage. The mass of Men held him back as they halted in surprise when six of their fellows were shot and the rest of that group broke rank and scattered in the direction of Woody End.

Assiram was in the fourscore that stormed the barrier, then, and the banks. With his brutish companions he pushed through the Hobbits that held the west side, killing one. The Hobbits wavered and were about to give way at this assault when two tall Hobbits came charging across from the east and rallied them. Assiram, desperate to escape the rabid Hobbits who brandished sword, knife, staves, and sharpened pitch forks, thought to slip through the shadows of the tall bushes while his fellows engaged the now fully roused and angered Little Folk.

He had just about made his escape, when he heard the thump of quick, running steps come at him from his left side and just behind. He turned, but not quickly enough as the hard blow of a blackthorn cudgel smashed against his knee, bringing him down. His eyes went wide as the figure who had assailed him stepped from the bushes, breathless from his exertions.

‘You!’ sneered Assiram, seeing the hard face of the Hobbit who raised his cudgel once again to subdue the man. The ruffian thrust his blade at the Hobbit, piercing him deeply in the belly. He struggled to get up as the Hobbit fell, only to be laid low with a hard blow to his head and the feel of a blade slipping between his ribs, piercing his lung. With a gasp of surprise, Assiram was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brass, stumbled and fell to his knees, as Dury, by his side, laid the ruffian low with his blade. ‘You’re wounded!’ cried Dury, as he knelt by the Shirriff. Brass nodded weakly, saying the skirmish before this one had seen one of the ruffians get in a lucky blow with a sword to his left arm. He pulled a smile from the grimace of pain that crossed his face, and motioned with his chin to the fallen Assiram. ‘Not too hurt to take care of that one, though . . .!’

Dury helped his companion to his feet and they walked to where Hob had fallen. He was beyond their aid now, and they bent their heads as they knelt beside him, tears tracing little runnels through the grime on their cheeks. Hob had passed quickly, bearing a soft smile on his face, they noted, as they laid his cudgel next to him. Standing, they bade him farewell and made their way down the hill to the triumphant Hobbits below.

In the hazy noon light, in the quick breeze that had sprung up to carry the stench of smoke and blood from the Shire, the little green and yellow hair ribbon that Hob had tied about his wrist, a parting gift from Cami, fluttered . . . a pennant of celebration and of victory . . . edged in sadness . . .

__________________________________________________ _____________________________________

Durelin’s post

Sitting in his favorite, cushioned chair by the fire, bouncing a happy little Mirdy who screeched with laughter, Dury puffed happily on his pipe, laughing with his two-year-old daughter. Waves of sweet smells floated from the kitchen. A loud clatter brought a pause in the little hobbit's laughter, but it quickly started up again after "Dora!" was heard.

Dury glanced around the room at surroundings he could see without his eyes. All was where it had been for years, where it should be. All, except for what now decorated the mantle. That had been there for just three days, as it had been three days since he had earned his sword of Gondor. He could no longer hear the laughter coming from what bounced upon his knee, as it blended into a peaceful silence. He was all too aware of the comfort of his cushioned chair. He felt so at peace, even as he looked upon what he had earned. It surprised him, but surprises such as that were always pleasant. Soon the laughter and the silence were separated.

Mirda, her face flushed red from the heat of the oven, bustled into the parlor. Perhaps she had a purpose to bustle, but Dury knew his wife had come to move quickly most anytime she moved. Dury was not disappointed. Mirda came over to he and Mirdy, smiling down at them, basking in the bright happiness of others. His Mirda was a beautiful person. Dury stopped bouncing Mirdy, and managed to quiet her. Removing the pipe from his mouth, he smiled back at her. For a moment they seemed to share thoughts, then Dury spoke, "There is something I'd like to read to you, Mirda." Niluial had kept Dury's note, doubting with all her heart that she would have to give it to Mirda. Her doubts had been true, and Dury's hopes had been fulfilled.

"My Dearest..."

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Cami's epilogue

Cami and her mother Honeysuckle stayed close beside the other relatives of the slain hobbits who had gathered in the common room of the Dragon. The Inn had just been reopened. The room was as dank and grey as their own flagging spirits; the old boards on the windows had hastily been removed and a few shingles hammered up over the holes in the roof to try and make the place presentable.

Still, it was better than being alone. In accord with custom, Cami and her mother wore stiff black dresses and bands of mourning, as they lined up with the others to receive visitors and condolences. Folk milled quietly about the Inn, talking and drinking cups of hot camomile tea.

Nineteen hobbits had been killed at the Battle of Bywater; another thirty had been wounded. Not a large number by any means, but for those who had the misfortune to fall, any number was too large. Samwise and Frodo had arranged for those grievously wounded to be taken in by local families where they could recuperate before returning home. All the hobbits in the original Resistence band who'd chosen to fight had survived unscathed and had already left for Tukborough to tell their stories to neighbors and kin.

The Shirriffs had not shared this same good fortune. Olo had died outside of Longbottom. Brass had been wounded at Bywater and was being nursed by a local family, although he was expected to recover and live to see the old ways return, for which he was not sorry. Prior to the battle, Cami and Hob had pledged their hearts, and made their final plans to wed. With help from Paladin, Hob had secured an intricately fashioned betrothal band for Cami to replace the one she had tossed away in a rage. Engraved on the silver ring were soft green leaves with tendrils gently intertwined. The two hobbits had shared this announcement with friends at the Smials just before Hob had ridden off to Bywater. But the fortunes of war had not been kind. Hob had stood up and done his duty. His body had been laid to rest with the others in a common grave on the side of the hill, with a promise that the community would soon set up a fitting memorial.

Within a few days, the families of all nineteen fallen hobbits had arrived at Bywater meeting withing the confines of the Inn to share a little of their grief and bid their relatives goodbye. There'd been stirring songs of bravery and sacrifice, and lilting poems that spoke of lives cut short and empty places at dinner tables. Flowers spontaneously appeared on the hillside, the beginnings of a garden. No cut arangements, but living bushes and blossoms planted with loving hands so that the empty, scarred earth would once again bloom with life.

Now everything was behind her. Cami had packed her few belongings for the long trek back to Buckland. Her heart was not in it, but she did not know where else to go. Although too ill from his imprisonment to assist in person, her old friend Fatty Bolger had arranged for a cart to transport the two women back to Brandybuck Hall. Honeysuckle did not look well, and Cami was worried about her mother's health.

Hitching Dandelion up to the traces, and making sure that her mother was as comfortable as she could be, Cami climbed into the front and took up the reins. She felt a tear slip down her cheek and hastily wiped it away, hoping that no one else had looked too closely. She felt as lonely as she'd ever felt in her entire life.

Everything was changed. Hob's death and the dreams that had died with him, the years of unrest, and the Scouring itself had swept away much that Cami had simply taken for granted. Even the people she'd known were different. Samwise, the young hobbit who'd been a childhood friend, had somehow turned old and wise, seeing and understanding much more than Cami. Merry, the gifted young lad from Buckland, still had laughter in his eyes, but spoke with authority of people and places she'd never even heard of. And Frodo.... Frodo, she couldn't even talk to. He had always been quiet, and she had struggled for words. Now, even when he'd offered his sympathies, he looked as if he barely even saw her. And worst of all, the one hobbit she most wanted to see was simply not there. Bilbo had vanished from Hobbiton and was not coming back. She'd best accept that.

Everywhere Cami gazed, people looked happy. They talked about starting life anew, and making things right. Cami did not feel like that, and, right now at least, she would rather avoid those who did.

Grimly flicking the reins over Dandelion's back, the pony trudged forward. But before they'd gotten more than a half dozen paces down the lane, she was halted by the sound of a raised voice, "Cami! Mistress Goodchilde! Wait a minute. I've a message for you."

She turned around surprised to find Frodo approaching the cart. She'd already heard rumors about strange happenings abroad and, unlike the other hobbits who'd returned to the Shire, he did not look happy. His face and eyes were shadowed even more darkly than her own. "A message?" she repeated.

"Yes, a message from Mister Bilbo."

Cami's heart lurched up and down at the mention of her elderly teacher's name. She had not seen him in over seventeen years.

"I spoke with him in Rivendell," Frodo whispered, "Not long ago. He was old and frail but still worred about you....he wondered what you were doing and how things had worked out..."

Cami kept silent, as she didn't think there was much of anything she could say that would be an acceptable answer. And her heart bled at Frodo's poignant description of his uncle.

The hobbit smiled gently, almost as if he could sense what was bothering Cami, and then went on to explain, "He says you're to keep reading and learning." She nodded blankly, then sighed and muttered a thank you before sitting down again. Dandelion shifted and tossed his head pawing the ground, impatient to be off. Just as Cami picked up the reins and the cart rolled forward, Frodo spoke a final word, "One more thing. Bilbo told me you are to 'keep chasing after Elves.' It's very important!"

Cami pulled back startled, as bitter words spilled out of her mouth, "All well and good, but there are no Elves in Buckland..."

Frodo looked at her and then spoke with deliberate emphasis, "Well, then, if I were you, I'd think about moving somewhere else...."

Her thoughts ran together in confusion. A tiny light beckoned her forward; she glimpsed the trail for only a second, and then it faded away. Still, she reasoned, it must be there somewhere. She impulsively leaned over planting a light kiss on Frodo's brown curls, before turning back to her task at hand and urging the pony onward. Somewhere else? But where? It would be a full two years before she began to suspect that the answer to that question might lay hidden in the pages of a book.

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ October 29, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

~*~ To Elvenhome ~*~