[piosenniel]

There had been no sleep for Piosenniel that night. Cami and Bird could get no response from her since Lorien had been so ungraciously ousted from her rooms, and they had given up trying to draw her into their conversation, at long last, leaving her to her own thoughts. She sat then in darkness, her face impassive as she considered her options. Starlight and moonlight glinted coldly in the grey of her eyes, and even the first bright rays of morning could prompt no warmth within them as she gazed out her window to the empty road beyond.

She cared little that Cami had shown kindness to the Vala. She could afford it, she supposed. The Hobbit’s capacity for that trait often astounded her, but today she put even that aside, knowing that Cami would choose for herself what she could endure. And for that, Pio was grateful. With or without her, Cami would move forward in the path laid out by her choosing.

Amaranthas stirred in the little bedroom. Pio could hear her moving about, the rustle of her dress as she pulled it on, the soft slap, slap of her feet on the wood floor. The door opened slightly, and the bright black eyes of the old Hobbit peered out at her. ‘I heard voices last night, angry sounds, some of them. Uneasy dreams crept over me and I could not wake. They were frightening.’ She looked at the Elf’s pallid face. ‘Did you dream such, too?’

‘I did not sleep, Amaranthas. I did not dream.’ But my children dreamed, in their baby ways - they were frightened. And I will not have it so again. This place is too unsettling, now. Disquieted. Achingly sad. Troubled. Her arms moved protectively over her belly, cradling her little ones. I will have no more to do with the Vala.

‘Let me get dressed,’ she said, bringing her thoughts back to the Hobbit, ‘then I will take you home.’

She shooed Amaranthas out toward the kitchen to find some breakfast, then pulled on her clothes hurriedly. A pair of black leggings that still would stretch to cover her girth, a long, loose dark grey shirt, her soft leather boots. She drew her blue cloak about her though the day promised to be warm. It would be another barrier between herself and the world without.

Pio slipped out the door from her bedroom, quietly crossing the length of yard to the stable. ‘Falmar nickered softly at her approach, and dipped her head in greeting. Quickly saddled, her braided leather noseband in place, she stood patiently while Pio clambered up the side of the stall to mount her.

‘You’re not taking me home on that great beast, are you?’ Amaranthas eyed the horse with some distrust. ‘I am.’ returned Pio in a firm voice. ‘Ruby, boost her up here. She can cling on behind me.’ Pio reached down with a hand and helped draw the Hobbit upward. They made off from the Inn at a fast pace, Amaranthas clinging tightly to the Elf’s shirt. And soon they were at the front door to the Hobbit’s house.

‘Come in and rest for a while,’ the Old Hobbit offered, her surprisingly strong, thin hand grasping Pio’s, leading her into the coolness of the parlour from the midday sun. ‘You don’t have to talk with me. I have plenty of tasks here to get done, without having to entertain you.’ She glanced up at the impassive face of the Elf. ‘I think we’re beyond having to do that for each other by now. Just sit and sort things out for yourself.’

[ March 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]