[Child of the 7th Age]

Everyone on the Star gathered in the galley to share the evening meal. Child glanced about the room. She was pleased to see so much friendliness and cheerful chatter. They could all use a little time to rest and heal. And it was not only the physical wounds.

Child was only now beginning to appreciate that, when she and Rose had gone through Morgoth's veil of time, their experience had been totally different from the others who'd remained on the ship. The two hobbits had lived through seven months of prison camp. However harsh that experience had been, it had given them the chance to mourn the loss of their good friend. But for the time travellers who remained on the ship, this terrible event had happened only a few weeks before. Many of them were still in deep sadness and denial. Child wasn't as surprised that Daisy had reacted the way she did.

Mithadan had once said that time travel was only for the very hardy or reckless. Child was just now beginning to appreciate and understand what he had meant.

As they finished the meal, Tule got up from the table and graciously excused himself to go above deck and take over the helm from Veritas. Levanto had even come aboard to join them, and Angara waited in rapt attention. Child had Piosenniel's letter in her hand, but she waited a bit for Veritas to return from her position at the wheel. Then, slowly and carefully, Child began to read the words Piosenniel had written, making sure that everyone could hear her.

"My dearest friends,"

"I take it that if you're reading this, I didn't make it back to the ship." At this point, Child's voice cracked a bit, and she looked away from her listeners. "And since I will no longer be needing my meager possessions, this is my rede concerning them."

"To Child goes the Book of Histories and the bronzed mirror. Look into it carefully! There is also one silver penny which I had kept from long ago as a remembrance of our first meeting." At this point, Child looked down at the table and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"To Bird goes the small silver tube, the one with the etching of the nightingale. In it she will find an old copy of "The Lay of Leithian" from Beleriand, with some annotations in the section concerning Felagund's singing of the spell of changing and shifting shape."

"To Rose goes my mithril fillet to grace those lovely hobbit curls."

"To Daisy goes my blue leather journal for her to finish writing the story of this adventure in."

"To Khelek goes a blank journal bound with the golden leaves of Laurelindorinan for him to make note of his journey on the Lonely Star."

"To Veritas goes my map case with all my maps in it, and the green journal containing all my annotations of places where I've been, with hand drawn maps."

"To Angara, that Wondrous Wyrm, I give my share of the Lonely Star with all the profit that may attain to it. And the alabaster bottle of scented, rare oils which she may keep her scales gleaming as bright as the sun."

"To my dear Levanto I leave a fine mithril chain with a pendent shell from the waters in which we first met, and a kiss."

"To my sweet Kali goes a conch cell from the shores of Numenor that he may always remember how the Elves helped his people."

"And finally, to Mithadan, goes my small silvered knife, the one with the double edge and the curious script which seems to float like kelp and foam on a glassy sea. It has the mother-of-pearl traceries on the grip, and the small, worn head of the Old Bearded Man with sea-grey eyes. Should the need arise, may the Light guide your hand and your aim be true."

"Fare well, my friends!
Ilove you all!
-Pio"

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Tomorrow there would be laughter and reminiscing about Piosenniel, but tonight was a time of lonely vigil. After Child's reading of the will, several of the Elf's friends found solitary spots on deck to sit and look out at the Sea. Mithadan stood silent in the prow of the ship gazing towards the West, a look of longing on his face. The hobbit Daisy laid her head in Child's lap wishing that things could be different. In response, the older woman stroked her curls and sang one of Lindo's lullabyes. Even the ever ebulient Levanto left the ship, sliding back into the churning waters to go off by himself and think about his friend. While high above all, on the topmost mast, sat the solitary figure of Angara, contemplating the horizon and wondering what happened to the fea of a good dragon after it was slain.

[ August 23, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]