The feast went merry and long, the company settling back in their chairs after talking and laughing and eating their fill. Applecider stood up on her chair and announced to the company what she had planned. “Now, me suggestion fer this is, once everyone's sufficiently fed -- we does prezzies an' maybe a round 'o music then fer a breather, an' then we breaks out the Limael's, an' starts feedin' our Lore-Missus some mam-lore.
“Now, the recent rain's been an absolute boon to me flower-beds -- So in honor of our lady Red-Elf, I broughts everyone a nice arrangement of red Amaranth as a door-present!” Much praise went round the table at the flowery sprays she presented.
“The way it works in the Shire be this,” Applecider went on, “the Mum designates first giver, they gets to show off what they brought, then they gets to designate the next, an' so on.”
“If your method is in force today, then I say let our Cider be first!” Seregrían said.
“Welp, since ye've duly deputized me, like any good Bounder, I dinnae shy from duty then,” Applecider grinned. “I broughts ye a three-parter -- one for each party involved. This first gift be for the Da: it be a journal of "Firsts." In it, ye can make record of all interesting stuff the wee sprout gets up to, over the years. Then you can either keep it fer yerself, or give it to her, once she's grown.”
“That is a great idea!” Catrena said. “Perhaps for some others expecting a half-elf babe will read it one day, and learn from the experience!”
Applecider then laid a small bracelet on the table. “Thar be for Bainiel. I gots her a teething ring. Nice an' sensible. But fer you, Mum .... I figger once Bainiel shows face, yer nae gonna fancy doin' much fer a few weeks besides loafin' about in comfy pajamas –“
“Like I don't do that now?” Seregrían laughed.
“So, wi’ this in mind, I mades you a bathrobe - or just a house robe - It dyes beautiful-like in Red ... jus' fer you!” And Applecider produced a luxuriant looking robe, plain in color awaiting the dye, but wonderfully embroidered around the edges and sleeves.
“Oh, Cider! It’s lovely!” Seregrían exclaimed.
“Welp, there be my own gifts, you two - an' since the big lad were askin' about distribution, I now nominates ... Kortheod!” And Applecider sat down, looking at Kortheod who was rising to his feet.
The gift-giving continued round the table, each person or persons offering gifts both practical and ornamental. Kortheod and Plusheila set upon the table an elaborately crafted dollhouse of cedar wood and a carved figurine of an armored warrior, to stand watch. The mute girl also produced a small carven wood flute. Kortheod interpreted to all, “She promises that when the little girl is old enough, she will teach her to play this flute.”
Catrena offered two rugs, one small and one large, for the baby to crawl on, a decorative wooden figure, and a little hand-drawn map of Hobbiton and the surrounding lands, “for when the child learns to wander. So, she has at least one place to go.” Seregrían looked askance at Cutch, who shrugged as if to say, don’t blame me.
Ingrasion, though he brought no material gifts, offered all the newest songs and tales “to brighten the wee lass’s days.” Not one voice disagreed – Ingrasion’s talent was celebrated widely.
Royzenberry proudly presented a sturdy iron hatchet with Bainiel’s name carved into it, and a bow of rowan and a stout ash staff - “for when she’s older, naturally,” she said after catching the look from Seregrían. Cutch smiled for her first training bow.
“And then there’s this,” Royzenberry said,” holding up a pretty little dress. “It used to be my mother’s dress when she was a lass; and it would mean so much to me if it was passed down to Bainiel.” Lemonberry was blushing furiously, but Seregrían’s eyes were brimming over.
Hartagil presented a cloak of fine wool felt, clasped with a ruby shard. “Given the weather we’ve know of late, she might need this as well.” Seregrían leaned close to embrace her sister, smiling widely.
“Nice an’ practical, Miss Hartie,” Applecider said, “most hobbit-sensible – I see we’ve been rubbin’ the good on ye. Now then, we’ve been round th’ table, an’ I think it’s time good Master Ingrasion lifted our heels off’n th’ floor! Look outside, the rain stopped, what say?”
The company rose from the table and passed out of the hall and outside to the courtyard. The grass beneath their feet was still damp, but the night sky was washed clean of clouds, and a pale moon shone brightly above. Ingrasion stepped over to the gazebo and strummed his lute once, then launched into a lively dance tune which got the company tripping merrily in time. The Elf-minstrel’s songs changed from lively to slow, then lively again; all there were smiling and turning, dancing the hour away.
As the hours passed, the guests wearily began to depart, some going to the guest bungalow, others preparing to ride off. One by one Catrena, then Hartagil, then little Lemonberry took their leave, but the merriment went on. It was as little Royzenberry was taking a turn at playing when Seregrían suddenly cried out and sank to her knees, clutching her middle, her face contorted in shock.
“Oh, child, no!” Seregrían cried out. “Not now, not here!!”
Cutch scooped his wife into his arms, “Mell bereth, what is it?”
“She… she’s using a new word. Etho, etho – out, out! Oh Cutch,” she said, looking up at her husband with dread, “I think it’s time!”
