[Envinyatar]

Supper for the hungry woodcutters . . .

‘Good work, men!’ Derufin leaned on his long handled splitting maul and surveyed the stack of split firewood and the sawn logs still to be split and some done further into kindling. A good half-day’s work on the morrow and the Inn would be set for several months. Denegal had gathered up the saws and Benat the axes, and both men were now putting them on the cottage porch, in readiness for the next day’s work.

Zimzi had brought out a large towel for each of them and a cake of soap to be shared. ‘Wash up at the pump,’ she directed the three. ‘I’ll just fetch my cloak, then, and we can go over to the Dragon.

The full supper crowd had not shown up yet, so they were able to take a table near the fire. Zimzi fetched them a pitcher of ale and three mugs and a mug of cider for herself. Derufin offered round his pouch of Old Toby and soon there was a spiral of sweet smelling smoke wreathing the heads of the three men. Ginger stopped by the table asking if she might take their orders. Supper was nearly ready . . . stewed coney, mushroom pie, buttered carrots, crusty bread with sweet cream butter.

Derufin looked hopefully at Ginger, who grinned impishly back at him. Zimzi looked from one to the other, her brows raised, a small smile dimpling her cheeks. ‘And spice cake with lots of plump raisins and thick, vanilla icing for dessert . . . just as Cook promised, Mister Derufin!’ Ginger said, laughing.

Everyone gave their order, then settled back comfortably to enjoy the hum and buzz of the Inn and the pleasure of each other’s company.