[piosenniel]

‘Now isn’t this interesting,’ thought Pio to herself, watching Zimzi and Derufin exchange greetings and make their first attempts at conversation. She left them to sort through mutual points of interest and enlarge the details of the brief introduction she had made of one to the other. Buttercup had come up and putting her hand into the Elf’s, stood watching the pair. Pio leaned down, and spoke softly to her.

A smile was on the Hobbit’s face as she brought the two mugs of cold cider, asking why didn’t they sit down and wet their whistles while they talked. Mithadan had come up by then, Beren having drifted away for the moment. He stood at her shoulder, noting the direction of her gaze.

You have that Cami-look in your eye, Piosenniel. Matchmaking?! Whatever happened to the discussions of people making their own decisions?

Pio laughed as she turned toward him. ‘Caught red-handed! And I am just giving things a nudge, not threatening with sword and chain. Surely that is an improvement!’ She excused herself for a moment, saying she wanted to speak with someone. Mithadan was drawn off by Cook, to be bedeviled with plans for the Naming Day party.

So many Elves, she thought to herself. More than when I was here. Pio approached the young Elf who busied herself with bread and soup.

‘It is good, is it not? I have always found Cook’s meals very satisfying, no matter the simplicity of them.’ she smiled at the young Elf, asking if she might sit down.

‘My name is Piosenniel,’ she said, sitting down, across from the Elf. ‘Might I know yours and where you are from? And what brings you here to the Green Dragon?’