[piosenniel]

Cook

The meat had thawed nicely, and now sat on the counter top, waiting to be tenderized. Cook reached for her oaken mallet and gave a mighty whack to the slab. Aman was sitting at the table, a pile of potatoes and carrots and parsnips challenging her paring knife. Ruby sat across from her snapping the ends off the large bowl of green beans that Beren had gathered that morning. He had craftily sneaked out before Cook could corner him to assist with the meal.

‘Got to see to those new hens of yours he had told her,’ he said, flashing a smile as he hurried out the door.

With the unfolding of Aman’s story about Lis, Cook’s mallet blows came faster and harder – stopping with a murderous thunk when the stand off was described. ‘She’s a lucky Dwarf not to have pushed Mistress Piosenniel.’

‘And lucky even more that Cook was not there with her mallet,’ whispered Ruby, noting how thin and stretched the meat seemed to be getting.

‘You have the right of that!’ said Cook, as she salted and peppered the meat and rolled it up, tying it into a roast. ‘I’ll not have the mother of those dear bairns injured. Dwarf or no, she’d have had me to get through.’ A second piece of meat was dealt with in a similar manner, and both set on racks in a pan to roast in the oven. The beans, now done, were put in a pot, and covered with cold water. The vegetables went into another large pot and waited their turn, along with the beans, to be cooked.

Cook pulled the ham from the cool pantry and sliced off several good sized slabs, piling them on a plate. A loaf of bread was cut into thick slices and put in a small basket, along with a crock of mustard and one of Cook’s spiced pickle relish. A wedge of cheddar offered itself to be cut into slices which were piled with the ham.

Aman and Ruby watched as Cook placed the dishes and some utensils on a tray, and hefting on to her shoulder, sailed through the door and into the Common Room.

And there was Esgallhugwen speaking to the Dwarf. Cook sat her tray on the counter and waited for her chance to speak.

‘Begging your pardon, Miz Lis, but dinner won’t be ready for several hours. I’ve brought you something to hold you over until then.’

Cook’s eyes swept over the young woman and then looked to where Mistress Piosenniel was sitting. Satisfied that everything looked under control, and that Pio had not been injured in any way, she nodded to the Dwarf and retreated back to the kitchen.

Aman was just drying her hands in preparation for going back out to see the guests. ‘Ruby’ll see to them for now,’ said Cook, scooting the Hobbit out the door to the Common room. ‘We’ve got a few moments to ourselves, I thought we might get the ball rolling on the Naming Day party. Any ideas on how we should get it organized?’

Cook poured a hot cup of tea for herself and for the Innkeeper, and pushed the honey jar toward Aman after she had put a generous dollop in her own. Her spoon clinked against the sides of the pottery mug as she waited for Aman to speak . . .

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]