Cook
Buttercup and Ruby had come up quietly behind Cook. They’d managed to shoo most of the gawkers from the kitchen, telling them all there were free drinks still being served . . . in the Common Room. At the mention of the name ‘Cami’ they too had gasped, and clasped hands. Mistress Piosenniel, the former Innkeeper, had often spoken fondly of a friend of hers, a Hobbit from round here . . . a Hobbit named Cami. And there had been some strange happenings just before Mistress Pio left, vague happenings, things that seemed to have happened in a hazy dream. But both Ruby and Buttercup knew from sharing what little they could remember that the name ‘Cami’ wove through the wispy memories.
Ruby took Buttercup by the hand and tiptoed round Cook and up to the bedraggled Hobbit. Buttercup reached out one finger and poked the woman on the arm. There was no response save for a twitch of the limb.
‘Ladies! We don’t treat visitors to the Inn like that!’ Cook opened the door to her room and asked Andwise to help her carry the woman into her little parlour. ‘You can put her on my sofa.’ Cook placed a pillow under Belladonna’s head and pulled a quilt from the back of the sofa over her pale little form. ‘Poor dear,’ she murmured, smoothing the woman’s dusty curls away from her face. ‘You just rest and when you wake up I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea with honey and a little broth.’ Cook turned the lamp low in the room as she and the others left the woman sleeping.
~*~
‘I’ve heard that name before,’ Buttercup said, as she and Hawthorne went out to the stables to retrieve the woman’s books and whatever other belongings they could find. ‘Belladonna?’ said Hawthorne. ‘No, not Belladonna. Her father’s name, Hildifons Took.’ Hawthorne looked at her with interest. ‘Trouble is, it’s one of those things that just gets whispered about and you’re not quite sure what’s true and what’s not.’ Hawthorne shivered at the thought of a mystery. Buttercup, at the younger girl’s urging, spoke low about a few things she’d heard about that member of the Took family. Swearing they were true because her Gran had told her so. Hawthorne’s eyes widened as Buttercup chattered on, and she scarcely noticed how the Party outside had pretty much come to an end.
‘Who’d have thought,’ said Hawthorne, as they hauled the stack of books into the Inn and headed toward the kitchen. ‘Who’d have thought that such a shabby and tattered old lady could have such an interesting relative?’
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