* a familiar grey figure crunches into view over the rise of ice-encrusted snowdrifts in sturdy boots, hat pulled down to his bushy brows, cloak close about his neck, a hint of icicles about his beard, pipesmoke streaming thin along currents of flurrying wind *
mark12_30:
As a matter of fact yes, I visited Tom and Goldberry this past January 19th, at the House of Bombadil! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]
You see, the Historical Interpreter for the park system where I volunteer is the spitting image of Old Tom, right on down to the merry banter, singing, and fiddle-playing! And he hosted a potluck dinner for the volunteers of the voyageur canoe program.
Wind chimes of azure blue and silver rolled out rich tones on my arrival. Door was open, and I let myself in, for all the rest were just sitting down to supper. A hearty meal it was, of ham and spiced green beans with mushrooms, of sausage and stuffed peppers, of white rolls with butter, of pie and cake, beer and coffee.
We spoke of the ways of chipmunks, and of boating on the river. There came a sad tale, for Tom had gone walking and come across a dead fox that someone had hunted and simply left behind.
There was a table for children set with candles, and the tiny flames seemed to cast a spell to make them well-behaved and keep a decorous quiet ... for we grown-ups had no candles at our table, and it was we elders who were full of boisterous laughter!
We then went and sat before the hearth where a strong fire blazed ... and would you believe, Tom invoked the very topic of this thread ... With eyes and smile as warm as the afternoon summer sun, he asked us each to tell what we were doing to enjoy the winter! The magic of it was such that winter itself seemed to thaw into a golden blending of time, so that I ended by forgetting what day it was. And any who were cold were laughingly encouraged to sit in "the hot seat" closest to the fire ... People took turns, shivering as they came, but not shivering, nor sitting there, for long! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]
But there was a more touching magic, the magic of an unspoken wish come true. For last year, someone as a surprise had brought a cake decorated with a drawing of Old Tom, his boat, and each one of us volunteers who together form a fellowship. We were each served the slice of cake bearing our image on the frosting, and laughingly devoured it all too soon. So this year, I hoped for the same sort of surprise ... only one more tangible, lasting. When lo and behold! Tom brought out a parcel of shirts bound up with string, and began passing them around to each of us ... and there adorning each shirt was the very same drawing of our fellowhip that had graced the cake a year ago!
At last the time came for visitors to depart. Tom, Goldberry and I kept our spirits up at our farewell, though all three of us keenly felt at that time the uncertainty of where my road would lead. Thus, we did not wish to say good-bye, preferring the promise of, "I'll see you again in the spring!" The road of course, goes ever on, and leads to ever more adventure ... but may the road never lead me so far as to keep me from returning to this house and these friends!
Gandalf the Grey
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