[Envinyatar]

Derufin watched the careful way she ate her soup and bread. Her glances a little furtive, as she brought the sopped piece of bread to her lips. She was one, he thought, who did not like to be noticed doing anything out of the ordinary. One who drew no attention to herself if she could help it.

Her past, he figured, had made her this way. This is how she had survived her life on the road. What he wondered now is if she were ready to settle down and take on some responsibility to something other than her own survival. It was difficult, he knew well himself, to break those old patterns of self preservation and see one’s self as part of a larger picture. Where was she on that continuum?

It was quite dark by the time they finished their dinner. Buttercup brought them some sweet, ripe pears and a wedge of sharp Shire cheese to eat with them. Derufin quartered the pears, and laid them out on a plate between them, then cut thin slivers of cheese to accompany them. He popped one in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of the fruit against the sharp tang of the cheese.

Halfway through his third bite, he yawned widely and grinned at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stifling the yawn. ‘I’m not very lively company tonight. I’ll tell you what, come early – say just after sunrise to the stables in the morning. I’ll show you the routine for getting them fed and out to the exercise ring in the yard. Then I’ll introduce you to the tool bench and we’ll get started on the Inn railing.’

He called Buttercup over to the table, and spoke low to her, his glance drifting at times to where Niniel sat, apparently engrossed in her slice of pear – though he knew her ears were keenly attuned to the words that had passed between him and the Hobbit.

Derufin took his leave, saying she should stay and enjoy the rest of the pears and the drink. Buttercup flounced over and gave the Elf an appraising look. She scooped up Derufin’s empty mug and dishes and swiped the table where he had sat.

‘Best you eat up, Miss,’ she said in a friendly voice. ‘If you’re to be a new stable hand, best you get a good meal under your belt and a good night’s rest.’ She looked at Niniel and grinned. ‘And I’m supposing he wants you up with the birds to help with the horses, doesn’t he?’

Buttercup nodded her head toward the door to the kitchen. ‘You just pop in there before you go off to the stables in the morning. Cook always has a kettle of strong, hot tea and some of her breakfast pastries set out for the workers. Grab yourself a bite – once you get done with your main chores in the morning, then we all have a proper breakfast to see us through til lunch.’

Cook had stepped into the Common Room and was calling for Buttercup – something about dishes needing to be finished up before bedtime. Buttercup rolled her eyes, then winked at Niniel. ‘She’s as good a person to work for as you could hope for. Sticks by you through thick and thin. But she has her ways, Cook does, that drive you crazy. A stickler for detail and getting things done according to her timetable.’ Buttercup leaned in closer to Niniel. ‘Runs a tight ship, that one does . . . and everyone hops when she says to . . . Backbone of the Inn in my opinion . . .’

‘BUTTERCUP!’ The imperious voice of Cook cut short the Hobbit’s gossip. Buttercup winked once more at Niniel, mouthing ‘See you tomorrow!’

‘Coming, Cook!’ she yelled back, scurrying to her appointment with the last of the bowls, cups, and stray silverware . . .