[Envinyatar]

Egbert was on his way to his son’s, and could not stop to talk with Andwise for long. He nodded his head at Derufin as he was introduced and said it would be his pleasure to consult with his missus on the finer points of gardening here in the Westfarthing. The stable master grinned, saying that she was not his missus yet, but they would be glad to have Master Proudfoot over some time after the hand-fasting to have a look at Zimzi’s plans for plantings.

‘You know,’ said Derufin, a sudden thought coming to him as the Ebert spoke with Andwise. ‘Once the old cottage is done, it would be nice to surprise Zimzi with a nicely started flower bed. In fact, just in front of the small verandah, is what looks to have been two small areas ringed with stones, one on either side of the dirt walk to the front door. I’m certain there must have been flowers in there at one time, but now it has gone all weedy and what few plants are there seem scraggly at best.’

Andwise nodded his head in agreement. ‘I believe I do remember those beds . . . lovely flowers in all the seasons used to grow there. A welcoming sight as you approached the cottage. ‘And, you know, there was also a lovely ring of plantings beneath the old flowering plum in the front yard. They have quite gone to seed now, too.’ ‘It would be nice if Master Derufin, here, could get this done for his soon-to-be Missus, Egbert. You know anyone free over the next several days?’

Egbert scratched his head and sighed as he shook his head. ‘I don’t, and that’s for sure. Sorry about that . . .’ he began to apologize, then trailed off, his gaze coming to rest on the young woman from whom he had just bought the seed packets. ‘I wonder,’ he mumbled . . .

‘I say there, Mistress Cornthrift,’ Egbert went on in a louder voice. ‘I was just thinking . . . you’ve seeds and cuttings, and I would be happy to give the rest of whatever might be needed . . . will you be here at the Inn long enough to help these good folk out?’

Derufin smiled at the Hobbit’s assumption that the young woman might be in the slightest bit interested in this little project. But Egbert had got the bit in his mouth and pushed on. ‘Be glad to lend the services of my two grandsons . . . good at digging and hauling, the lads are. Be happy to work for a chance to pester Miz Bunce for cakes and cookes. She’s their aunt, on their mother’s side, you see.’ Well, what do you say?’