He sat up, and smiled at the newcomer to the table. The Inn was overrun with Fair Folk, or so it seemed these days.
‘Ah,’ he said, his attention drawn to the young woman who sat at the table eating bread and jam, ‘you must be Léspheria. I think I heard something from Aman concerning your offer of help to her.’
The pot of strawberry jam was almost gone. Derufin excused himself and rose from the table, making his way to the cupboard where Cook kept her extra jars of jam. ‘Try this,’ he offered, breaking the waxen seal on the clay jar. ‘It’s a special jam from Miz Amaranthas’ kitchen, sweet berries from her own patch mixed with tart chunks of rhubarb.’ He placed the jam, a spoon stuck handily in it, on the table near her.
As he was up already, he brought the kettle of hot water to the table, and throwing a few more leaves in the teapot, he poured the hot water in and set the tea to brewing. ‘Have one more cup, the two of you, before you begin your work day.’ He nodded at Vanwe, who stood to follow him.
‘Let me fetch the wood from the shed behind the stable,’ he told her. ‘And let me get the tools and supplies rounded up that we’ll need.’ He poured both the women a fresh mug of tea, and pushed the honey within their reach for sweetening. ‘Come out and find me when you are done, Vanwe. I’ll be in the yard, at the east side of the stable.’ He pushed his chair up against the table and cleared away his dishes to the stone sink. Cook smiled at him and he winked broadly at her, saying she would soon have the finest shelving in all of Bywater.
She laughed and waved him off, watching as he strode out the door, whistling some old air he had picked up in his travels . . .
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Faye Took: - Some of us are playing out a set of scenes that take place during the daylight hours at the Inn. It is still early morning, we have just had breakfast, and there is a whole day of work and discovery ahead of us, before night falls.
Can you modify your post to reflect that?
-- Envinyatar
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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