Surprised that Rie was waiting for him, Derufin gave her a hand up and they walked across the yard to the Inn. He put his hand on her arm as she made for the front steps. ‘Let’s go round the back, through the kitchen. The cook told me I could help myself to the pantry and larder once I was done. We’ll make us some sandwiches and then go into the common room for some ale to wash them down.’
He grabbed her hand and ran round to the kitchen door. It was cool inside, after the afternoon heat and their exertions. Derufin pulled out bread and cheese and meats and mustard and pickles, lining them up in an efficient row. Some lettuce and a tomato found in the cooler rounded out his sandwich troops. He handed Rie a table knife and the mustard crock as he cut the bread in nice thick slices.
‘Pile it on! I’m famished!’ he said, grinning at her, as she plied the mustard with her knife, slathering it on the bread.
He rummaged through the slatted cupboard. ‘I could have sworn I smelled fresh cookies and fruit pies this morning when I woke up. Now where has she put them?’
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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