[The Saucepan Man]

The Saucepan Man awoke to find himself nestled amongst a pile of cushions in one of the tents placed at the outskirts of the Party Field, for use by those who might wish to catch forty winks. Saucepan suspected that he had probably caught more like four hundred. Looking around, he saw others sleeping in the tent, similarly recuperating after the delights of the previous night. One of the Hobbit attendants sat nearby, watching him closely.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Mr Pan Man sir,” said the Hobbit. “But you fell asleep slap bang in the middle of the field last night. And I happened across a young lady trying to make away with your pots and pans, like. So I took it upon myself to have you brought here and thought that I’d best stay here to watch over you and the others here while you slept.”

“You are most kind, Master Hobbit,” replied Saucepan, checking his kitchenwear and finding to his relief that all was present and correct. “Although I am sure that she meant no harm.”

“Mayhaps you’re right, sir. I believe that them Beorn security guards reached the same conclusion.”

Saucepan gratefully drank down a large glass of water that the Hobbit handed to him, as he mulled over the events of the previous night. After passing a happy half hour showing some young Hobbit children how to get maximum noise and effect from banging on his pans with sticks, his attention had been drawn by the alarming table manners of the Orc sitting at the bar next to him. Ignoring the loud and windy manner in which the Orc had signalled the end of his feast, Saucepan had engaged him in conversation. The pleasant discussion which ensued had caused Saucepan to revise his opinion of Orcs considerably.

He had then drifted through the party, mingling with the other guests, every so often replenishing his glass (and those of others) from his kettle, which seemed to hold a never-ending supply of the clear fragrant liquid. He had enjoyed discussing with Merisuwyniel the antics of the Entish Bow Questors, with which he seemed to be strangely familiar. Later, he had ended up in a vodka speed-drinking contest with Lush, the likely cause of his impromptu collapse in the middle of the field. Somehow, he suspected that Lush had been the victor.

Shielding his eyes from the sunshine as he left the tent, Saucepan surveyed the Party Field. Crowds of people were still present, enjoying the entertainers, stalls and side-shows. He waved cheerfully at Bêthberry as she arrived with a well-stocked wheelbarrow. Then he noticed someone else who he recognised standing nervously by the entrance.

“Guinevere!” he shouted (although his pounding head immediately regretted it), and clattered over to welcome her to the party.