[Arry]

Ferdy could hear his Da whistling as he came round the side of Inn’s old caretaker’s cottage. Andwise was happiest when he was “workin’ the wood” he’d always told his son. And sure enough, there he was planning and scraping down some small doors to some cupboards he supposed. Ferdy waved as his Da looked up. ‘Shall I start on one of these little doors you’re doing, or start on the big door over there?’

‘Big one, I think, son,’ said Andwise, pointing at the wooden toolchest set near him. ‘There’s a second planer in there. And I think in the back of the cart there’s a basket of shavegrass we can use for the fine rubbing.’

The two set to work, a comfortable silence settling in between them, punctuated by the frequent bursts of melody as the spirit struck Andwise. It was an hour or so later, when Buttercup came bustling from the Inn with news they were to put aside their work and wash up at the pump. There was stew to be served for lunch with thick slices of crusty bread. She’d set a table for them all beneath the spreading oak tree near the back door of the kitchen and would be serving them herself.

Andwise harrumphed as he watched the Hobbit lads gawp at the retreating figure of Buttercup. He was about to make a remark to Ferdy, when he noticed the same expression on his son’s face. Almost as one, the five young Hobbits ran toward the yard pump. Derufin had by this time come down from the roof and stood staring after the retreating herd. ‘Now don’t that just beat all,’ said Andwise, shaking his head at the lads. He grinned up at Derufin. ‘Nothing like the anticipation of a hand-fasting party to turn the young’uns heads . . .’