[Child of the 7th Age]

8 Cermië - afternoon of Party Day

Pio's post

Bag End was in a festive mood. Sam answered the door with a smile and a bow when they arrived and they were ushered in through the front hall and directly into the kitchen. Miz Rose, seated on a padded chair was directing the activities. The counters and the large table in the center of the room had all been cleared of ‘family things’ as little Rosie explained, taking hold of Pio’s hand and leading her up to the long counter that ran the south side of the kitchen. ‘This is my favorite now,’ she whispered to the Elf, as she eyed the twenty pies, the cloth covered baskets of cookies, and the dishes of fresh, ripe fruits that stood along it.

Pio glanced along the row, thinking that she might have to skip the main courses and go straight to dessert. Her finger was just reaching out to touch a drop of blackberry juice that had bubbled out the side of the crust and stood waiting to be tasted on the side of the pie dish, when she heard a distinctive clearing of the throat and the sound of someone moving up behind her. ‘I wouldn’t touch that pie if I were you, Miz Pio,’ came the distinct tones of Cook. ‘You’ve a notorious way with pies and I don’t have time to bake another one!’ Pio’s eyes narrowed and she was just about to retort when she saw that Cook was laughing at her. ‘Well, I guess I will never live that one down, will I?’

Gilly had come up to survey the bounty, and turned with a perplexed look on her face. ‘These are all very nice, Cook.’ She motioned her closer, her voice down to a whisper lest Cami be nearby. ‘But the wedding cake? Where is it?’

Rosie put her fingers to her lips and motioned for Gilly and Pio to follow her. Down the hall a short way and into the cool pantry they went, stopping at a large deep cupboard at the back. Gilly opened the door with a prompting from Rosie and glanced in. ‘Oh my!’ was her response, and Pio, curious, pushed her slightly out of the way and looked in. She turned with a frown on her face. ‘What an odd custom!’ she said, turning round to take another look at the contents. ‘Hobbits eat large biscuits as wedding cake?’

Rosie and Gilly stared at one another then broke into giggles. Pio shrugged her shoulders and stared back at them, not catching the joke at all. It was Cook, who had followed along behind the group, who straightened out the confusion.

‘It is a biscuit of sorts,’ she explained, ‘or a number of large, fluffy, sugary ones. We’ll split them when the time comes and fill them with these plump, sweet strawberries sliced thick and sugared just a bit to bring out their juices.’ She pointed to the three large bowls of strawberries just picked in the Inn’s garden that very morning. ‘We’ll stack the layers high, and crown the top with thick sweet whipped cream that’s cooling right now in the springhouse. A few whole berries on top for decoration, and it will be fit for a queen!’

Pio’s eyes had grown wide at the description of the dessert, and her mind had definitely been made up to head straight to the dessert table as soon as she could. Cook, as if reading her mind, reminded her that the shortcake would be served after the vows, and was not to be tasted beforehand. Pio feigned an expression of injured dignity, then broke into a grin. ‘Ah, Cook, you know me too well!’

Once they exited the pantry, Cook went back to the kitchen and followed to help her. Elanor had by then come up, and she took the basket with the babies in it, walking with Rosie and Pio out to the west side of the large burrow, where the gardens were.

The grounds were decorated beautifully. Bright colored streamers flew from the branches of the trees, and there were a myriad of small lanterns hung between the trees themselves, to be lit later when darkness had come.

There were gleaming white cloths draping the tables set round the greensward, and on them had been set the pots of wood sorrel and primroses. Pio smiled when she saw them, her breath catching in her throat at the gentle kindness of her friend. The larger table, where the food would be set out, held the arrangement of white hawthorn that stood for hope. And there at the side of the house was the trellis with its white and red roses, where Amaranthas was directing Sam and Frodo-lad on how she wanted the ivy intertwined among them.

Pio’s own vase of flowers she still held carefully in her hands. It was a large, wild and random assortment, unlike the prettily composed ones that Cami and Miz Rose had made. She had listened well as Amaranthas guided her through the flower garden that morning and had put together her own message for her friend.

There were long branches from the hazel, their soft yellow flowers signaling peace. Mugwort for happiness and lily of the valley for return of happiness blended happily with sprigs of fennel for strength. Buttercups marked cheerfulness and sweet smelling honeysuckle the bonds of love. A single, leafed blackthorn wand stood for difficulty, wrapped round with wallflowers for ‘faithfulness in adversity’, while the broad leaves of the chestnut at its base said ‘do me justice’. Sprigs of holly were tucked here and there, a defense against shadow, as were sprigs of mistletoe saying ‘I rise above all’. And here and there were nestled ivy leaves for friendship, and near them the tiny blue flowers of forget-me-nots. It was a motley assortment when looked at with a critical eye, but Pio had gathered the flowers and leaves carefully, putting them in a large crockery jar from the Inn, the sort that held a pint of ale. And round the middle of it she tied a thin leather thong, wrapping it tightly about the jar several times, from which hung a single silver star.

She set the arrangement back out of the way, in the shadow of a tree that overhung one of the tables. Rosie and Elanor wondered at the odd looking bunch of flowers, but said nothing, thinking it was some Elven custom.

In a short span of time, the final preparations were done and Miz Rose pronounced that all was in readiness for the party. She and Pio went out to the lawn and sat in the shade of the tall trees on comfortable chairs, glasses of cool tea in their hands. Miz Rose made much of the babies, as did Rosie and Elanor, while young Merry and Pippin entertained Goldilocks and little Hamfast with a game of catch the beetle.

Frodo-lad crept quietly up to where his mother and the Elf were sitting and sat down between them on the grass, hoping that Pio might look his way.

All too soon, the guests began to arrive . . .

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]