The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

‘You’ve a bit of sugar at the corner of your lips, dear!’

Cook bustled past Ginger as she spoke, and made her way back to the stew pot. The lamb was bubbling away in a savory sauce spiced with onions and celery tops, a pinch of sage and little sprinkling of thyme. Into the pot she now scraped the bowls of cut up taters and carrots, and stalks of celery, chopped in chunks. Ruby had come in from helping Buttercup set up the outdoors table for the workmen, and began setting up the trays for the lunch tables. Crocks of sweet cream butter; baskets of thick cut, crusty bread; napkins and eating utensils; small pottery saltcellars, and peppergrinders. Pitchers, too, were got out which would hold the sweet, cold cider, and mugs to drink it from.

Blackberry cobbler was to be the dessert to round out the midday meal, and Cook had commandeered Ginger to wash the berries and put them in several large bowls. ‘Just sweeten them up with sugar from the pantry, and make sure you dust in some flour to thicken the berry juice when it bakes,’ she directed her.

While the young Hobbit set about following her instructions, Cook got out a quantity of flour and a generous helping of butter. Measuring the flour by eye into a large crockery bowl, she began to cut in a goodsized portion of butter until the mixture was rich and crumbly.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger loved the sight and smell of blackberries. They were dark and shiny and caught the light as she turned the sugar into them; they seemed to wink at her playfully. Miz Bunce had told her to use just sugar and flour, but her mam had always used a pinch of salt to bring out the flavor, a little lemon juice to add a tart edge to the sweetness, and a sprinkle of finely ground cinnamon root that made the mixture a little spicy – earthy, almost.

Five large, rectangular pans, each generously greased with butter, had been laid out on the table by one of the other Hobbit lasses sent by their mothers to help for the day. Ginger ladled out equal portions of the berry mixture into each pan, and dotted them all with small pieces of butter. Cook had by then finished the pastry topping, and dividing it out into five equal pieces had rolled each one out to a size large enough to cover the berries entirely in each pan. Ginger then brushed on some melted butter and sprinkled sugar on top of the crust. Cook opened the oven and placed each of the pans carefully in on the racks to bake. Then she and Ginger finished the last of the violets and put them all in an out of the way place to dry.

Cook looked about the kitchen in a satisfied manner. Ginger nodded at her. All was in order, food and drink ready for lunch when it rolled around, the decorations for the cake done and drying. By mutual agreement they sat down at the table, having cleared away the debris from making the cobbler, and pulling up chairs, they both propped their feet on one and sat back to enjoy a fragrant cup of sweet-spice tea.

[piosenniel]

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[Lalwendë]

As Jinniver went back towards the inn she heard another hobbit loudly hailing Mr Proudfoot, and she stopped briefly to see if he had heard. Sure enough, Egbert Proudfoot came quickly back up the road huffing and puffing, his face even more red; he was shouting about how he was in a rush but seemed more than willing to be sidetracked by an old acquaintance all the same.

The stable master was with the hobbit who had hailed Mr Proudfoot, and he looked back over his shoulder at Jinniver, saying something to the other hobbit. Jinniver’s face flushed a little, but instead of hurrying away, wondering why anyone she didn’t know would possibly want to acknowledge her, as she might normally have done, she raised her hand in greeting. “Nice day, isn’t it?” she said. It was something she might have said to one of the Breelanders she knew well, but she would certainly not have been so familiar with a stranger just a couple of days ago.

Since she had arrived at the Green Dragon on the previous evening, she had met several strangers, and she was beginning to feel less nervous and clumsy, and more like her old self. Back before the dark days of the trouble, when all those men came up the Greenway and she had to learn to grow up fast. Her father had told her she had to stop pottering around her mother's farmhouse singing and dreaming, and instead had to learn about keeping quiet and locking the doors at night. Then there had been the time when they had had to flee into Bree itself, but that was the part of the story she didn't want to think about. When they came back to the ruins of the farm she was grown up and she had immersed herself in her work. And it had been that way ever since until now.

[Envinyatar]

Egbert was on his way to his son’s, and could not stop to talk with Andwise for long. He nodded his head at Derufin as he was introduced and said it would be his pleasure to consult with his missus on the finer points of gardening here in the Westfarthing. The stable master grinned, saying that she was not his missus yet, but they would be glad to have Master Proudfoot over some time after the hand-fasting to have a look at Zimzi’s plans for plantings.

‘You know,’ said Derufin, a sudden thought coming to him as the Ebert spoke with Andwise. ‘Once the old cottage is done, it would be nice to surprise Zimzi with a nicely started flower bed. In fact, just in front of the small verandah, is what looks to have been two small areas ringed with stones, one on either side of the dirt walk to the front door. I’m certain there must have been flowers in there at one time, but now it has gone all weedy and what few plants are there seem scraggly at best.’

Andwise nodded his head in agreement. ‘I believe I do remember those beds . . . lovely flowers in all the seasons used to grow there. A welcoming sight as you approached the cottage. ‘And, you know, there was also a lovely ring of plantings beneath the old flowering plum in the front yard. They have quite gone to seed now, too.’ ‘It would be nice if Master Derufin, here, could get this done for his soon-to-be Missus, Egbert. You know anyone free over the next several days?’

Egbert scratched his head and sighed as he shook his head. ‘I don’t, and that’s for sure. Sorry about that . . .’ he began to apologize, then trailed off, his gaze coming to rest on the young woman from whom he had just bought the seed packets. ‘I wonder,’ he mumbled . . .

‘I say there, Mistress Cornthrift,’ Egbert went on in a louder voice. ‘I was just thinking . . . you’ve seeds and cuttings, and I would be happy to give the rest of whatever might be needed . . . will you be here at the Inn long enough to help these good folk out?’

Derufin smiled at the Hobbit’s assumption that the young woman might be in the slightest bit interested in this little project. But Egbert had got the bit in his mouth and pushed on. ‘Be glad to lend the services of my two grandsons . . . good at digging and hauling, the lads are. Be happy to work for a chance to pester Miz Bunce for cakes and cookes. She’s their aunt, on their mother’s side, you see.’ Well, what do you say?’

[Lalwendë]

“Well, what do you say?”

Jinniver was taken aback and couldn’t think of what to say as quickly as she’d have liked. She bit her lip and looked down for a moment.

“Why, oh, you mean me?” She blustered. “I…why, I should be most happy to help you out. Of course I would. How wonderful of you to think of me!”

Jinniver smiled, looking at each of them in turn, and then shook their hands. “When will we start?” she said brightly. “Is the garden that one by the little cottage you are working on?” She was already thinking of the red geranium plants and the tray of blue trailing lobelia which were in the back of her cart. And the two young fuchsia bushes which were already showing signs of the drooping pink and purple flowers they would bear.

Turning to Derufin, she asked him to think about what sort of plants and flowers he would like her to provide. “I can send word to my father and niece, as they are at home tending the farm, and they can send along just about anything you could want for your garden. So please, do tell me what you and your good lady would like to see in your garden.” Then she realised something. “Is this to be a surprise for the hand fasting I have heard so much talk about?”

Egbert Proudfoot puffed his chest out a little with pride at having arranged something so splendid for all. He had always been a great one for organising and setting business in order for other people, and he felt very pleased with himself. Jinniver could tell he was thinking about what a good job he had done, and she thanked Mr Proudfoot warmly once again, and decided to leave him a gift of a free jar of especially tasty horseradish sauce when she delivered his order, by way of thanks. It would go nicely with some mashed taters, and she felt sure the hobbit would enjoy it.

[Kates Frodo Temp]

Sylvie! Sylvie!

Sylvenya stopped with her left hand trembling against the door. Go away! You cannot follow me here!

Sylvie, stop! Please go back; you are not safe all alone!

Let me be! I could not stay there forever, not any more than you could! Why should I be left behind? Are you so selfish, Mother? Do you hate me so much?

Wait! Sylvie, I...

She flung herself inside, letting the door fall shut with a great clatter. The smells of smoke and of dinner cooking instantly wrapped Sylvie like a blanket, keeping out unwanted thoughts. She brushed a dark curl from her eyes, and blinked, trying to adjust to the soft, indoor light.

"Are you all right, missy?"

Sylvie peered over at a lady who was smiling at her from behind the counter. I must have missed that. "Were you saying something to me?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're all right. You look a bit upset."

Sylvie blinked again, and took a few steps forward. "Forgive me, but I cannot understand you." She spoke slowly, with a odd, soft slur. "Would you please say that again?"