[Anguirel]

Artifondo, truth to tell, had been afflicted with nerves ever since the Cook's unexpectedly knowledgeable and canny remark about the Silmarils. She had a fine head on her shoulders, and it was somewhat alarming. He paced about a little awkwardly as Vinca Bunce boiled the artichoke. Had it, after all, been wise to change its image so drastically from that boring old Wholesome Carbuncle?

When Vinca seemed in raptures over the artichoke's smell, the pressure lifted, and Artifondo could not restrain a hefty sigh of relief. He took the morsel Vinca offered him, and ate it with as much mirth as he could muster. Perhaps he overdid it. The cooking, without doubt, had been excellent, and the Dragon's butter was the best anywhere, but it was still an artichoke. A small drop of melted butter joined the mushroom soup stain on Artifondo's waistcoat, though he did not notice.

"Good as I ever tasted!" Vinca cried, and Artifondo smiled. Victory was his. If he could pull off a really big sale, Ursula wouldn't tan him when he got home. The downside was that the optimistic Pellinco might send him out on one of these errands again...but the Dragon, he was learning brought its own compensations.

He could have embraced the Cook when she gave her answer. A chance to regularly visit the Inn, and a great catch for Dwellover Artichokes Limited.

"Absolutely, Miz B-Bunce," he answered, stammering in his excitement. "As for the hearts...well...I'll ask my f-father. He runs the business. I am merely a messenger."

He smiled. The only trouble now was the lingering taste of artichoke-and a little more ale would be sure to wash that out.

"Good day, Miz Bunce. Enjoy your tea."