[piosenniel]

‘Give me that letter, you insufferable Man!’ Cook chased the grinning Derufin as he danced circles round the kitchen table, waving the letter over his head. He collapsed into a chair, his eyes twinkling at the sight of her compact form charging toward him.

She grabbed the letter from his fingers and sat down at the table with him, squinting at the writing as she held the paper an arm’s length from her face. Shaking her head, she laid the letter on the table, smoothing it out carefully, and fished in her skirt pocket for her magnifying glass. She had scoffed at her son-in-law when he had brought it back from Bree for her, but it had proved a very handy tool for deciphering the crabbed notes at the edges of some of her old recipes and for reading the itemized receipts from some of the merchants.

Buttercup and Ruby had come back into the kitchen, wondering what had excited Derufin so. They took the other chairs at the table, listening attentively as Cook read the letter.

A Pleasant Midsummer’s Day
Harlond, Harlindon

Greetings Derufin!

I am sending this letter to the Inn in hopes that you are still there. And that you have made peace in some manner with the ghosts of the past.

Cook glanced up at the Man, a questioning look on her face. ‘Do you want me to read all this, or would you rather edit out what was for you alone?’ He nodded at her to go on. The sound of the letter read out loud to him made the words more real, steeling his resolve to follow through on his promises to her.

Cook continued on.

Mithadan brought us here to be close to the sea, while we got used to being a family. It has been a good time for us. There is a certain rhythm to the days, directed mostly by the babies. You remember the drill, do you not – the fussing, the feeding, the changings, the sleeping, and that all too brief a period when they are awake and content!

Here there followed a light account of people she had met in Harlond. Men, for the most part, though some Elves still lived quietly further north near Mithlond and south, along the shores of the Sea. She drew quite pointed pictures with her words of those she had gotten to know, picking out their little foibles in such a way as to make her readers laugh, and feel that they had met them.

‘She has a sharp eye for people, doesn’t she?’ commented Ruby, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes. Buttercup, blushing as she answered, said, ‘Oh, aye! That she does. And a sharp tongue, too.’ Cook looked at her with a smile on her face and nodded ‘yes’. Taking a breath, she read on.

The wee bairns, as you called them, have grown apace, and their bright grey eyes take in all of the world about them as they can. We walk often with them along the shores of the gulf, and once we persuaded a fisherman to take us out in his boat to the where the sea begins. It was a pleasant excursion, though his small boat did not ride as smoothly as the Star. But we enjoyed his company, and I, especially, relished the chance to have the feel of the waves beneath my feet.

So much so, in fact, that we are ready to leave soon for Gondor and the Star. Mithadan was all for hiring a ship and sailing south to Harlond in Gondor, but I wanted to see my friends from the Inn one last time, and am in the process of persuading him that we should come back to the Shire for a short while. I will keep you informed of our plans.

Affectionately,

Piosenniel

And there, below her sprawling name, these hastily written words:

A brief day later, and he has relented, as I knew he would! I am sending this to the Shire by the fastest courier I can hire. We should be there in four weeks if all goes well.

‘Four weeks! And this letter took a good two already to get here by my reckoning.’ Cook’s brow furrowed as she thought about what needed to be done. ‘We’ll have to organize a party for them of course, to properly celebrate the twins’ Naming Day for their friends here in the Shire.’ She turned her gaze on Ruby and Buttercup.

‘You two, go find Miz Cami and Miz Aman. Tell them they’re needed directly in the kitchen. Tell them Cook needs to speak with them on a matter of some importance.’