Subject: Here comes another one.
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Posted on: 2012-12-04 20:43:00 UTC

From a side-passage (had that been there before?), a sound of singing came drifting along. It was a rarely heard sound, since the voice responsible had a history of soothing ragged souls and inspiring the downtrodden and such, and its owner didn't like to talk about it, but in this case she was making an exception for the amusement of her three-year-old son. So Jenni Robinson sang out:

"In the middle of the earth in the land of the Shire lives a brave little hobbit whom we all admire. With his long wooden pipe, fuzzy, woolly toes"—the boy giggled, much as though his feet had just been tickled—"he lives in a hobbit-hole and everybody knows him—"

"Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!" Henry caroled on cue, if not exactly on pitch or rhythm.

"He's only three feet tall," Jenni sang back as they entered the main hallway.

"Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!"

"The bravest little—whoa, traffic jam." Jenni stopped short at the sight of the small crowd ahead. "Hey, folks! What's the commotion? Is everything all right?"

A quick scan of the faces she could see revealed no one she knew well, though one or two were vaguely familiar. Maybe they'd been in FicPsych recently. For herself, she was still wearing her white coat with the black on white exclamation-points flash patch; she hadn't bothered to change before going to pick up her kid from the Nursery.

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