[Envinyatar]

‘Well, let’s go out and see about those duties. Better to have a picture of what you’re going to be doing, don’t you think?’ Cook was giving the young man no chance to wiggle out of the spot she had planned for him. She took him by the elbow, an incongruous pair – tall and young, short and older. Behind them trailed Ruby, Buttercup, and Derufin.

The back door of the Inn, the one that led into the kitchen, faced south – the front door leading into the Common Room was on the north, oriented toward the Great Road that ran not too far from it. The Inn’s stables were to the left across the back yard, south east as you left the kitchen. While the garden was to the right in the southwest corner of the Inn property. It extended further west than the Inn, and afforded a good view of the roadway to anyone working in it. Between the stables and the Garden was the hand pump that served the water needs for the Inn.

‘Now here’s your tool shed,’ she said, pointing out the wooden structure at the east end of the garden.’ She fished for the key on her ring and opened the lock that secured it. Everything you’ll need is in here. Minto’s kept it nice and tidy, and the tools are all cleaned proper and sharpened where needed. A few hours in the morning should see you through on most days. A little weeding, and watering . . . a little replanting when the time comes . . . I’ll send one of the girls out with a basket to gather what we need for the day.

Beren’s eyes were wide as he listened to her go on and looked at the neatly spaced rows of green leaves depending upon him for their well-being. Before he knew it, she was handing the key to the tool shed to him.

‘We’ve got to get elevenses out for the folk in the Inn, and I need to start lunch and supper.’ Cook motioned for Ruby and Buttercup to follow her back to the kitchen.

‘Derufin!’ She called out the stableman’s name as he wandered toward the horse corral. He stopped, and turned shading his eyes from the late morning sun. ‘You can show him the hen yard,’ she directed him.

_____________________________________________


The henyard stood along the western wall of the stables, a large fenced area with a hencoop that held fifteen chickens – one rooster and 14 layers. Derufin showed Beren the key to unlatching the wire mesh gate.

‘If you don’t mind,’ he said, ‘I’ll see to the chickens, if you’ll gather the eggs for the Inn in the morning. I rather like the little creatures. The rooster’s a bit feisty, but he and I have come to an understanding and he doesn’t attack me now when I change out the straw for their bedding.’ He eyed Beren, wondering if the man had ever gathered eggs before.

‘Best you get up before dawn to get the eggs; they’ll all be sleeping still and won’t make a fuss.’ He showed him the tiny scars on his right hand from one of his first attempts to gather eggs when the rooster was awake. ‘Just get the basket from the counter in the kitchen, and fill it with a little straw for cushioning. Then, quickly go from hen to hen, slipping your hand beneath her and pulling out one or two eggs – just make sure you leave one for her to raise up. Take them in and set them back on the counter and one of the girls will take care of them.

‘Tea’s usually brewed by then, and Cook’s fresh morning pastries are out – help yourself to some. She’ll be expecting it. You’ll have a few hours then before you need to tend to the garden, so you can pop back under your quilts for a while if you wish.’

Derufin said he’d feed the chickens when he fed the horses, and told Beren that sometimes in the late afternoon he liked to let the hens and chicks out to forage for bugs in the garden. ‘Well just need to remember to pen them back up at night – weasels, and foxes, and the occasional egg stealing raccoon, you know.’

He motioned for Beren to sit with him a while on the bench beneath the oak tree in the stable yard, offering him his pouch of Southern Star. ‘I’m doubting you’ll be expected to start today. Might as well relax a bit.’ Derufin smilled and looked off toward the Inn. ‘Perhaps we’re putting the cart before the horse with all this talk of gardening and hens – I haven’t actually heard you accept the offer.’

He lit his pipe, offering the flint to Beren, and took in a mouthful of the flavorsome smoke . . .