[piosenniel]

(being a joint effort on the part of Cami, Pio, and Bethberry)

As the curtain rang down for intermission to a thunderous round of applause, Mithadan stepped back from the podium, turned off his microphone, and quickly exited the stage. With a cautious glance to the right and left, he locked the awards closet and pocketed the key so that no grasping hands could get inside and make off with any of the Tombies.

The audience still lingered in the auditorium. Some had sauntered over to a refreshment stall in the lobby to sample a newly baked batch of lembas, but most remained in their seats, trying to guess who the next honorees would be.

Backstage, it was perfectly dark and quiet. Suddenly, there was a delicate rustling behind the curtain as three light-footed figures--one tall and slender, another softly rounded and medium height, and the last short and decidedly plump--slipped out of the dressing room and cautiously made their way onto the darkened stage.

Cami glanced towards Bethberry and back again at the locked cupboard which held the awards that were still to be given out.

"You're sure you left it here?"

"Definitely," she nodded. "Before the ceremony began I hid it on the bottom shelf of the closet, in the very back.

"Cami knelt down and began fiddling with the lock. Hobbits always seem to inherit those chores that fall under the heading of burglary and stealth rather than ones that are deemed truly heroic. This time was no exception. Cami scavenged a bobby pin from the depths of her pocket, inserted it into the hole, and began fiddling back and forth until she heard the welcome click that told her she'd been successful. The hobbit eagerly reached in to snatch the tiny red apple on the bottom shelf, but drew back just as quickly when she heard an alarmed voice raised behind her.

"Don't touch that thing," Piosenniel warned. "Melificent's catalog says it's so filled with poison that the slightest residue on your fingers could mean 'bye bye' to all."

"So what are we going to do with it?" The small hobbit scratched her curly head."

That's easy," grinned the Elf. She handed Cami a pair of bulky, extra-long kitchen gloves. The hobbit put them on and gingerly picked up the apple, holding it out in front of her. "You don't think he'll expect something fishy?"

Pio encouragingly shook her head, "Not Mith. He's a straight arrow kind of guy who thinks the best of everyone. He'll never know what hit him."

"We'll use the gloves for the presentation. We'll just explain it's a personal award for our beloved Mithadan from his loving Senior Innkeepers-Bethberry, Piosenniel, and Child."

The three looked at each other and grinned. They were envisioning a life away from the Shire and Rohan and Gondor, filled with cruises to Hawaii and other restful pursuits, far from the noise and hubbub of the Inns.

It was only a matter of minutes until the dragon Angara walked up to a large gong in front of the curtain, and began beating it vigorously with a thick silver rod of Elvish design. Immediately, the stragglers returned to their seats and a hush fell over the audience as Mithadan bounded up the steps and resumed his place at the podium. He fumbled through a large stack of papers, vainly searching for the next order of business. Then he looked up, surprised to see three familiar figures walking steadily towards him with a look of blind trust and adoration on their faces.

Piosenniel reached out her hand and placed it on top of his, her gaze lingering adoringly on his handsome visage. She turned to the audience and beamed. "We're here tonight for a very special reason. This Man is finally going to get exactly what he deserves."

At this point, there were several loud and purposeful cheers emanating from the back of the crowd. Gamba got up and began dancing in the aisle with a broad, silly grin on his face.

The Elf put her hand up to signal that everyone should quiet down. "None of you in this room has any idea of what it's like to work for a Man like this. It's an experience that can never be duplicated.”

Just as Pio said this, Cami peered down at her toes and muttered under her breath, "Not that you'd ever want to." Bethberry jabbed the hobbit so hard in the ribs that she almost keeled over.

Bethberry smiled charmingly and now took up the lead, "Just as Pio was saying, working in the RPG forums under Mithdadan's leadership is an unforgettable experience. Every day there's a different challenge---keeping the Shield-maidens and half-Elves at bay and the ravening posters happy, having to clear your in-box of Mithadan's PM’s every five to ten minutes, and dealing with strange, non-canon characters in dark cloaks whose backgrounds are inevitably shady. Then there's my own personal favorite: receiving an assignment for which you are told you must respond within the next ten seconds or the entire Barrow Downs will self implode. I can not tell you what joy and satisfaction our jobs bring, particularly when our families are screaming at us to "get off the computer or else."

"Yes," agreed Pio, "And that is why we have come here, bringing a special award for the Administrator who heads all the RPG forums, the man who has made this evening possible. We have with us a golden apple, an award especially suitable for one whose tongue is very sweet, with many golden promises.

Cami, muttering once more to herself, managed to maneuver herself in front of Bethberry and Pio, with her arms clad in two giant-size kitchen gloves. Between her hands was the lovely golden fruit. There seemed to be a strange liquid dripping out the bottom which Cami hastily attempted to mop up with her furry toes. She smiled sweetly, and set the apple down on the podium directly in front of Mithadan . . .