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Old 12-12-2003, 05:15 AM   #226
piosenniel
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1420!

Pio's post - Rôg

Wiping the last few drops of water from the well on the front folds of his cloak, Rôg crossed the narrow, wooden verandah and pushed the Inn door open. He had sluiced his hands off thoroughly, removing any lingering odors from the bundle of soiled clothes he had carried out to the refuse heap. And now he had plans to secure a table by the fire for himself and his traveling companion. Breakfast, and plenty of strong, hot tea to wash it down, occupied his thoughts as he stepped into the Common Room.

‘Pio!’

He heard the young woman who had entered ahead of him call out to someone she had seen across the room. His gaze, drifted from the sparrow on the woman’s shoulder, toward the small scene playing out a short distance from him. With a sharp intake of breath he stepped backwards toward the door, seeking a quick exit back to the Inn's front yard. He abhorred violence, and the promise of it was too near for his comfort.

~*~

The wrens had flown off, their attention caught by a field of sunflowers in a field to the north and the lure of abundant seed for the taking. The old man lingered at the open window for a moment, watching the tiny brown cloud of them grow smaller in the distance.

A soft whirr, and the feathery brush of delicate wings tickled against his left ear. His hand came up to brush the source of irritation away and was stopped by a barely audible murmuring.

‘Move your stumpy fingers! You’re about to crush my antenna!’

The small brown, gypsy moth latched on to the old fellow’s fingers and rode them in a dizzying arc to a position just in front of Aiwendil’s eyes. A moment of sudden queasiness ensued, followed by the irritated twitching of the moth’s antennae. ‘Yes, it’s me,’ he squeaked, his front leg smoothing out the crook in his right antenna left by the brief pressure of the old man’s fingers. ‘I’ve come to suggest we skip breakfast and hit the road. That big fellow who came in after us yesterday – some Elf, named Pio, I think, has challenged him. The atmosphere in the Common Room has taken a decidedly tense . . . and possibly ugly, turn.’

**********

Child's post - Radagast:

Aiwendil sensed another gentle whirring, this time near his right ear, as the brown moth fluttered up to land on his shoulder. But the wizard seemed not to notice. His round eyes blinked once, then twice, as he stared off into the distance, struggling to retrieve a memory from behind the grey haze.

Pio?... Pio was in the Common Room? Faint hints of a forgotten time sparkled beneath the surface. It was a time when he had first journied to this world. He and Gandalf had worked together to sow the seeds of resistence within the hearts of the Free Peoples. His own heart had been much stronger then. There had been that strange business with the hobbits and the Anduin he'd never fully understood. But the little ones had made good neighbors. He had first met Piosenniel along the river and made his promise to her and her friend, the feisty and insistent Skin-changer, that he would check on the hobbits now and again. That promise, at least, he had kept.

Nor had that been his last encounter with the Elf. Time and again, he had come across her on the road. And, just a few years ago, she had unexpectedly shown up with a husband at her side and two babes in her arms, looking quite content. At the moment, however, the thought uppermost in the wizard's mind was the fine ship that belonged to her and her husband Mithadan.

Aiwendil stood up so abruptly that Rôg tumbled off his shoulder and landed on the broad arm of the chair. The moth lowered his head and tried not to listen as the wizard began lecturing him, "If Pio is in the Common Room, we've no time to lose. That is, unless you intend to walk all the way to Harad! Come along now!"

Seeing the stubborn look on Rôg's face, the wizard shook his head, "I'm more concerned about the safety of my neck on the roads to Harad than I am about Pio. And she may be able to help us with that. Anyways, I know her well enough. The Elf can be hasty, but she's not likely to strike a blow unless the fellow truly deserves it."

Aiwendil headed towards the door, walking purposefully in the direction of the Common Room, and beckoned to Rôg to follow him.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:05 AM December 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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