[piosenniel]

Cook gives some firm instructions to the Stablemaster

‘Should I fetch him? He’s in the garden weeding, I think . . .’ Wren’s bright voice trailed off as she waited for Cook to answer.

‘Let me just finish this here, child,’ said Cook, dipping into her chest of medicines. Ginger had placed it on the table and was standing at the ready with a roll of linen bandage.

Meriadoc winced as she poured a little cleansing concoction of some clear alcohol with herbs in it over the wound, and might have withdrawn his foot from Cook’s grasp save for the fact she had a good grip on it. He relaxed a bit as she deftly applied a soothing unguent over all. A wad of moss wrapped in a small clean cloth came next, then Cook took the bandage from Ginger’s hand and wrapped it securely about the Hobbit’s foot. ‘Ginger, go down to the basement, if you will, and fetch up a couple of those crutches hung on the south wall.’ She turned her gaze back to the Stablemaster. ‘You stay off that foot now and better yet, just sit or lay down for the next few days where you can keep it propped up.’

Cook tut-tutted the frowning Hobbit, knowing he was going to tell her how much work there was needed to be done. ‘Tie you to a chair myself, if you don’t follow my instructions, Master Meriadoc!’ she said in a firm, unmovable tone. ‘And besides . . .’ she turned to look at Wren with a nod. ‘Didn’t she just say her brother was an able hand with horses? And any lad his age knows his way around a shovel and pitchfork.’ She raised her brows as she regarded Meri. ‘Let him be your legs for the while. You can set yourself up like the King himself on a chair in the center of things and direct him as you like. Just keep the leg propped up on something.’

The Stablemaster grumbled and glowered a bit. But Cook sat looking at him; her presence like a thick stone wall. No way over, under or around her, he decided. Meri turned to Wren and let out a long breath with a hmmph at the end. ‘You say he’s an able lad with horses, do you Miss?’ The girl nodded her head. ‘Well, I suppose we can give him a try out. Mind you,’ he said, looking at Cook, ‘if it doesn’t work out, we’ll have to be finding someone else. Can’t have the Inn’s stables done up shoddy or the horses not attended to.’ He crossed his arms over his chest resolutely. ‘The Dragon has a reputation to uphold. Won’t have it tarnished on my watch.’

‘Well, of course not, Master Stablemaster! No one’s asking you to. Just give the lad a try like you said.’ Cook got up from her chair and tidied the contents of her medicine chest before it would be put away. ‘Wren, dear,’ she said, as she counted the number of bandage rolls left in chest then closed its lid securely, ‘why don’t you just go out and fetch your brother. Tell him Master Meriadoc would like to speak with him.’