[piosenniel]

Pio knew that the first thing Amaranthas did in the morning was to step out on her covered front porch and inspect her flower pots for any caterpillar, or spider mite damage. She would look closely at each flower and peer under the leaves, for tell-tale signs of larvae or webbing; then, inspect the edges of the glossy green leaves of the camellia bush for evidence of bite damage from the caterpillars. Today was no different. In fact she had stopped in the kitchen on her way to the front door to mix up a weak solution of Pear’s granulated soap and spring water to spray on the plants as a preventative.

All was forgotten as she opened the door and the folded piece of thin vellum floated down to her feet, bearing the bold script signifying it came from Pio’s hand.

‘Now what’s that fool Elf gone and done! Rode that horse out here again?!’ She looked about the small lawn and down the path for any 'evidence' that ‘Falmar had indeed born her mistress to the house. Seeing none, she opened the note, and a wide grin split the wrinkled face of the old Hobbit.

She plunked her spray bottle down on the porch, and addressed her precious plants. ‘Sorry dears, but you’ll have to fend for yourselves today. I’ve got urgent business in Bywater.’

Amaranthas hobbled as fast as her ancient legs would carry her back to her bedroom, threw on a dress, smoothed her curls with her fingers, and giving up on them, jammed her straw hat firmly on her head. On the top shelf of her closet, she carefully drew down the basket with presents in it for the twins. Grabbing her cane from on top her dresser, she made her way to the small shed where Thistle stood, munching at the hay Amaranthas had left her last evening.

‘No time for breakfast now, Thistle,’ she said opening the half door wide, and leading her out. The small pony cart was soon hooked up, and Thistle twitched her ears in anticipation. Amaranthas had mentioned something about carrots, and apples and oats from Hob once they reached the Inn.

Neighbors along the lane leading to the road to Bywater were forced to jump quickly from the path of the speeding pony and her determined driver. ‘What’s lit a fire under the old gal?!’ exclaimed one of the farmers whose handcart had ended up in the ditch as he scrambled to get out of the way.

In record time they made it to the Inn. Amaranthas stepped from the cart, assisted by Hob. He was trailed by Madoc who was helping out in the stable while his sister, Prisca, spent the day playing dress-up and frosting cookies with Minta. Hob handed out the basket to Madoc, instructing him to help Miz Amaranthas up the stairs to the Inn, and show her to Miz Pio’s room.

Amaranthas stood, brushing vigorously at her road dusted dress, and raised her sharp black eyes to Hob when at the mention of needing help to get up the stairs. Her face softened at the sight of Madoc, who stood there so attentively, and she nodded to him, taking his offered arm.

‘Lead on, then, laddie! I’ve got babies to be seen to . . .’