[Encaitare]

Caity's dreams the night of the party had been of music and dancing and laughter. She awoke at midmorning, and was rather reluctant to get out of bed -- her feet were a little tired from all the dancing of the previous night. After fifteen minutes, though, she began to notice the smells of breakfast, and she made herself get up.

She dressed slowly, putting on a simple blue dress, much better suited for traveling than the one she had worn the previous night. Then she brushed her hair, tied it back with a ribbon, and began putting her belongings back into her pack. She did not want to leave the inn (after all, there all the cooking and cleaning was done for her and there were plenty of interesting people about), but she understood that she had responsibilities at home, too. Ma would need help looking after Caity's younger siblings, and neither of her parents would be happy if she spent any more money to stay at an inn when she had a perfectly nice home in Brandy Hall. Frankly, they had enough on their hands with the young ones; the last thing they needed was a flighty tween.

Oh, how Caity hated having to act responsibly.

She followed the scent of food down to the common room. There, she found a table for herself, and soon had a nice beakfast of eggs, ham, and tea. When she laid her fork down, she was preparing herself to just get up, gather her things, say a few goodbyes and thank-yous, and leave. But at that moment, Cook walked by near Caity's table, chatting exasperatedly with one of the serving girls.

"...and the flower beds are all a shambles, trampled by everyone yesterday night," she was saying with a shake of her head. "Well, I suppose it was to be expected. A few people are out there now trying to fix them up again..." She and the serving girl continued on their way.

Aha! Caity thought. This was a small excuse to stay longer, if only for a little while. A little garden work didn't sound so bad -- better than minding her brothers and sisters, at any rate. She carefully worked her way through the tables and people and stepped outside.

She saw what Cook meant. The beautiful flower beds had been crushed in some places, footprints clear in the dirt. Several hobbits were working at making them look presentable once more. She approached them and one greeted her.

"Come to help? Wonderful!" he exclaimed before she could say anything.

"Well, I heard that the place was a bit of a mess."

"You heard right," he said, seeming to be cheerfully resigned to his job. "Certainly glad to have more out here. What we're doin' is checkin' the trampled plants first to see if they can be saved. If they look alright to you, stake 'em up. If they're goners, don't hesitate to pull 'em. We're goin' to put in some new ones to fill in any bare spots later. Also, you can smooth the dirt over when you're done, get rid of these footprints."

Caity nodded. "Sounds fine to me."

"There's stakes, string, and some trowels and things over there," he continued, pointing to a pile of simple tools. There were a few beads of perspiration on his forehead despite the breeze; he wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a light streak of dirt. "You need anythin', you just ask for Halfred."

She began rooting about in the garden, determining the fates of the poor squashed plants, and rather enjoying the fact that the dirt was getting under her fingernails.