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Denegal's face brightened considerably as Ruby explained cook's offer of "three meals a day". A place in the stable loft to lay his head was just the honey on the bread. Although, upon refelection, a soft bed of hay would be a welcome change from the smell of dirt in his nostrils and waking each morning drenched in dew.
"Why, I thank you most kindly Miss . . . Miss?"
"My name's Ruby, sir. I help out in the kitchen here and wait the tables, as you can see."
"And you must call me Denegal, for if I'm to work here also, "sir" definitely won't do." The young man smiled at the little woman.
"Then no more of this 'Miss' business either - it's just plain Ruby." She glanced at his feet and said, in a businesslike tone, " Now, it's plain as the nose on my face that you're in need of some new footwear, unless you're hiding that left boot somewhere about your person. We've a closet up in the attic and there's all sorts of odds and ends what people have left behind them once they've left us. You're welcome to have a look and see if there aren't a pair of boots or shoes that'll fit you proper. And if you'll pop round into the kitchen, I'm sure cook can find a cloth and some warm water and soap to wash all those cuts and blisters."
Ruby looked enquiringly at Denegal. He could tell she must be curious to know how and why his foot had got to be in such bad shape, and where his boot might have gone to; but she was too polite to ask him outright.
"My thanks again, Miss . . . er, Ruby. My companion on the road was right - the folks here are of the friendly variety." He laughed. "I'm sure I look a sight. But your faith in me won't be misplaced. I can work as hard as . . . " Denegal caught himself in time. He had been going to say "as ten of you little folk." He didn't wanted to offend his new benefactors, however. And he realized suddenly that, really, he had no idea what these little ones were capable of. ". . . as needed, and harder.", he finished lamely. "I'll go right up then and see what I can find, if you'll point me in the right direction."
Ruby seemed just a tad disappointed that no explanantion would be forthcoming; but, as Denegal correctly assumed, she was far too polite to ask directly. Ah, well, perhaps she'd eventually get it out of him. She told him how to reach the attic and left him with instructions to come to the kitchen when he was finished.
Denegal rose from the table and stretched contentedly. Already, the soreness was leaving his muscles and even his foot felt better. Yes, he thought to himself, he could tell a tale or two of his recent travails. But what did they all amount to in the end? Nothing more than the sorry ramblings of a love struck fool. Well, no longer love struck - but still definitely a fool. A one- booted fool at that! Well, perhaps some evening, when there was nothing better to talk about, he might relate the embarrassing details of his 'flight' from Minas Tirith.
Meanwhile . . . he made his way to the back of the inn as directed, and thence to the attic.
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