[piosenniel]

19 Lotessë, Year 12 of the Fourth Age

The horse and rider went slowly down the other side of the hill once they had raced to the crest of it. It was not a great distance to Amaranthas' house from here, and Pio wished the sun to be up just a little more before she knocked on her door.

Once they had reached the house, Pio clambered off, leaving her mount to nibble the grass in the greensward. A few steps along a clean swept stone walkway brought her to a freshly painted green door. To each side of the entrance were stone planters with riots of red, yellow, and orange blooms spilling over the sides. Pio tapped twice on the door, then stepped back to await its opening.

‘WHAT WOOLY PATED HOBBIT IS DISTURBING MY MORNING TEA?! TOLMAN BYWATER, IF THAT’S YOU AGAIN PLAYING TRICKS ON AN OLD LADY, I’LL HAVE YOUR HIDE FOR IT!’

The door cracked open the barest of inches. One baleful, bright black eye peered out at her. Pio stepped up close to the door. ‘It is Piosenniel, my dear Amaranthas. I have come to ask your advice on something.’

The door swung open slowly, and the tiny Hobbit came forward, leaning on her silver handled hawthorn stick. She had been no more than three feet tall in her prime, and now age had bent her spine, making her even smaller. Her face was as wrinkled as a wizened winter’s apple with cheeks stained red, and her eyes were still keen and took in all. Dressed in her usual black, widow’s weeds with a white starched cap securely covering her thinning grey curls, she looked the Elf up and down taking her measure.

‘Those babies are getting bigger by the minute, Miz Pio!’ She looked over to where ‘Falmar was grazing on the greensward. ‘Tell me you didn’t ride the horse here this morning! Are you trying to bring them out early, you little fool.’

The Elf stifled a giggle at this comment. Who was this tiny Hobbit to call her a little fool! She heard the loud crack as Amaranthas tapped her cane hard on the stone porch. ‘No need to be laughing at an old lady, Missy! You need to take better care of yourself if you intend to be a mother.’

Pio blanched at this comment. How many times had she heard it already from Cami! She stammered out an apology, trying to look contrite. An expression not familiar to the features of her face.

Amaranthas laughed at her guest’s discomfiture, a dry dusty sound that wheezed out of her like a long, sustained note from an old squeeze box, the kind the tinker would play as he walked along to draw his customers’ attention. Pio stepped forth, a look of concern on her face, as the laugh seemed to roll out with no intake of breath to replenish it.

The laughed dissolved into a cough, and Amaranthas waved the Elf back, nodding to her that she was alright. ‘Come in! Come in.’ wheezed the old Hobbit, pointing the way to the parlour. Pio stepped in and went to the cozy little room, having visited the house previously, while Amaranthas shut the door securely.

‘That’s a good girl, to fix us some more tea. Your mother did a good job of raising you!’ Amaranthas had come to the table and sat herself down as Pio busied herself brewing a fresh pot of tea, then rooted through the cupboards for one more cup. Cup in hand, she nosed through several more cupboards before asking, ‘Now where is that seedcake you told me you always bake midweek? I am famished!’ Amaranthas chuckled and pointed out the bread drawer to the left of the stone sink with her hawthorn cane.

Pio busied herself slicing the cake into thin slices, and piled them high on a small, flowered plate. Plate in one hand and a pot of gooseberry jam in the other, Pio plunked herself down at the table, and poured the steaming tea for the two of them. She passed Amaranthas the seedcake and jam, and the pot of honey to sweeten the tea. Piling a generous spoonful of jam on the slice of cake in her own hand, she raised it to her mouth, and bit down in delight.

They passed a fair time in pleasant conversation, and Amaranthas filled her in on all the news of all the neighbors round her. Pio’s head swam with the jumble of facts and imaginings she now knew about people she did not know. She was just about to fill her in on the despicable Bywater family when Pio redirected her commentary with a question.

‘Amaranthas,’ she said, offering her the plate of sliced cake, ‘I need to ask you for a favor.’ The Hobbit was now all ears. ‘Can you direct me to someone you would trust as a midwife?’ She put her hand on her belly for emphasis. ‘The twins will be born on Loënde, Mid Year’s Day, just a little over a month away. I need to find someone who can be there with me.’

The venerable Hobbit looked at her questioningly. ‘I don’t know much about Elves, but I’ve been through my share of Hobbit births. How do you know they will be born that day exactly? Aren’t these your first? They could come at any time. And twins! That could prove difficult.’ She sat thinking on poor Marigold Brandybuck who lost one of the twins she had carried and never did get over the loss.

‘It will be Loënde, because the twins and I have agreed on it.’ Amaranthas arched her eyebrows at this information, and gave a distinct ‘Hmmph!’ ‘And as to difficulty in the birth itself, Elven women are different in this respect, we carry our children differently and their births are fairly effortless. I expect some discomfort but nothing as I have heard told of Men’s births.’

‘Is that so?’ said the Hobbit, her black eyes glittering with barely concealed mirth. ‘Discomfort! Now that is an interesting word, indeed. Sort of pretties things up, doesn’t it?’ She smiled at Pio and winked.

Pio kept an even expression on her face and looked back at her. ‘More tea?’ she said, pouring herself another cupful. It was true her store of knowledge on this subject was extremely limited, having avoided involvement in helping with any births throughout her long years. Still, she assumed she would get through it much as she had any event in her life. She would simply take charge and see it done the way she intended.

As if she had read the Elf’s thoughts, Amaranthas shook her head, kindly holding her tongue on the subject. Instead she gave careful consideration to Pio’s request, and after a few moments produced a name she thought would fit the bill.

‘Rose Cotton Gamgee.’ she said with some finality. ‘That’s who it will be. I’ll speak to her myself this afternoon.’

Two more hours passed pleasantly in small talk. Pio regaled the Hobbit with tales of Cami’s mothering of her, and her industrious knitting projects for the babies. ‘It settles my mind a little knowing you have someone with a good head on her shoulders to keep you in line, Miz Pio. Stars above, those babies would be looking a little rag tag if it were up to you alone.’ Pio took the admonishment good naturedly, knowing that there was probably some truth to it.

She helped to clear and wash the breakfast dishes, and dry them. When the last of them were put back into the proper cupboard, she took her leave of Amaranthas, saying that she would send the Inn’s wagon round for her next week and the Hobbit could visit her at the Inn.

Amaranthas motioned for her to bend down to her and surprised her with a kiss on the cheek. She pressed a cloth wrapped seed cake into her hands, saying she would look forward to the visit. ‘Now what did you say that Hobbit’s name was who was staying with you? I’ll bring her some of my mushroom pasties.’

‘Cami. Camelia Goodchild.’ said Pio as she mounted back on ‘Falmar.

Shaking her head, Amaranthas tsk! tsk’d! at seeing Pio back on the horse. She watched from her front steps as Pio made her way to the top of the hill and disappeared behind it. She was just preparing to go in, when she turned with a puzzled expression on her face and looked in the direction the Elf had gone.

‘Camelia Goodchild, was it? I knew of a Hobbit that had that name. A fey sort of creature as I recall.’ Her eyes looked keenly in the direction of the Inn. ‘It couldn’t be her, though. She’s been dead these many years. Couldn’t be.’

She closed the door securely behind her and sat down in her favorite chair to think.

[ February 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]