[Arry]

‘Sir,’ said Jack as the two turned back to their meal. Alwin looked up from buttering a thick slice of crusty bread, his brows raised in question. ‘Go on, then, lad,’ he prompted the boy as he reached for the plum jam and spread a generous layer on top of all.

‘Well, I just wanted to say this is the most interesting Inn we’ve come to yet!’ Jack waved his spoon for emphasis about the room – pointing out the entering group, Bingo trotting off with his cup of tea for the man indisposed, the old couple at the nearby table as they leaned together in whispers, their eyes going now and again to the Hobbit they had called Falco.

Alwin broke his slice of bread in two, offering half to Jack. He watched with a barely suppressed grin as the boy’s nose took in the sweet odor of greengage jam and his mouth sought out the sugary prize. ‘I’d be ready to burst by now if I could eat like him!’ he chuckled to himself. In three bites the boy was done with the bread.

His soup bowl already wiped clean from a previous crust of bread, Jack looked about for a bit of something to fill in the last hollow spot. His eyes met the bowl of apple tart with delight. It was still warm from its place near the fire he found, when he’d hopped down from his chair and picked it up from the hearth. Buttercup had left them a pitcher of clotted cream to pour over it, and he did so – looking guiltily at Alwin when he saw how much he’d taken.

‘There’s a bit left for you, sir,’ he said with a chagrined smile as he looked in the little pitcher. ‘I’ll get you more if you need it.’

He tucked into the apple tart with a sigh of appreciation, and was half-way through when he noticed Alwin had pushed his soup bowl away from him and was now tamping some tobacco into his pipe. Jack looked at him then looked at the remaining bowl of apple tart still sitting by the fire.

‘Going to eat that, sir?’ he asked, a hopeful look on face. ‘I could help out if you want . . .’