[piosenniel]

Filibert Whitfoot relished the days when it was his turn to be Shire postman. He got up, before the crack of dawn, to make himself a big breakfast; then packed for lunch and snacks two or usually three sandwiches, an apple or two, some cookies, or a slice of cake, and a large flask of hot, sweet tea. He sorted the letters and packages by town and placed them carefully in order in his two leather satchels.

Amaranthas had gotten up early, and now stood, letter in hand as he made his way up the path to her house on his grey pony. ‘Can you get this to Waymeet today?’ she asked him. ‘Of course!’ he said. ‘To be honest, there isn’t much to deliver today.’ He looked up at the clear sky, the sun just a fingers width over the eastern horizon. ‘It’s starting out to be a fine day for a nice little ride on Willow here. Taking time for a little lunch, I think I can get it there by early afternoon.'

He took the letter from her, placing it in pocket for the outlying districts. As an added incentive, she gave him two lemon tarts she had baked just that day, wrapped up in a clean napkin. She watched him until he turned west onto the main road, wondering all the while what Gilly’s answer would be.

************************************************** *******

Dear Gilly,

You probably don’t remember me. I met you many years ago at a christening for one of your father’s sister’s children in Waymeet. I think you were about ten years old then, and I must say you were one of the more interesting people there.

I remember you drawing me aside (I had been sitting in the corner nursing a glass of the local ale, as I recall) and you were filled with the stories your cousin Pippin had brought home from the wars. Your eyes shone when you talked about those distant lands he had been to and the Elves and Men he had met in his travels. I could tell, even then, that the small confines of Waymeet would hem you in and chafe against your desire to see the wider world.

You must be about twenty now. A young women with ideas of her own and the mind to make them, somehow, become reality. I cannot offer you the same chances that Master Peregrin had, but I can offer you the chance to become acquainted with one of the Fair Folk (one Piosenniel) I have befriended here in the Shire.

To be blunt, she is in need of the services of a nursemaid, as she is soon to deliver twins – Midyear’s Day to be exact. Her husband, Lord Mithadan of Lond Lefnui in Gondor has joined her as they await this joyous occasion. Two babies and her being a brand new mother will be hard for her, and I thought to offer her your services if you would be interested. You would find her a very interesting person, I think. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she offered you the chance to accompany her and Lord Mithadan on their return to Gondor, and possibly on some of their trips aboard their ship.

I know how wonderful you are with babies and younger children. Your Aunt Clematis has written me many times praising your skills as a caretaker for the younger ones. Elven babies, I’m sure, cannot be much different from the little ones you have taken care of, and Mistress Piosenniel would be a most interesting person to work for. There will, of course, be room and board, and a small stipend offered to you for your services.

Please reply soon. And I am hoping that your reply will be one of acceptance.

Affectionately,

Amaranthas Bolger
Hobbiton, Westfarthing, The Shire

Gilly could scarce believe her eyes as she scanned the letter for the third time. She had just had a row with her parents that very morning, because she had brought up, once again, the question of her traveling to another town to seek work. What she had not discussed with them was that once she had a few skills under her belt other than weeding the garden patch, she intended to see as much of the Shire as she could. And, hope beyond hope, she planned also to travel as widely as was possible for her beyond the bounds of it.

And here was her first small step! She wrinkled her brow and thought hard about Amaranthas, trying to place her. She seemed to remember an elderly Hobbit who carried herself with a commanding presence. Other members of the family had deferred to her, as she recalled. Beyond that, though, her mind conjured no other memories.

She started to skip up the path to her family’s burrow, then thought better of her overly enthusiastic approach, and slowed to a more sedate walk. She would need to approach this offer from Amaranthas in a calm, firm manner with her parents. Gilly stood straight and squared back her shoulders. She meant to seize this opportunity with both hands.