[piosenniel]

Zimzirân fetches Uien and Falowik back to the kitchen

It was Zimzi who saw the look on the Elf’s face and how she turned away leaving the kitchen, the man at her side. She could not recall his name, but the Elf she remembered was Uien. The one that had carved the mallorn flower for Derufin, leaving it for him to find when she went away north.

It was shortly after she had arrived at the Inn with Piosenniel and her family. Zimzi had become friends with the Stablemaster, the attraction being mutual, and they soon found themselves spending time together, enjoying the pleasures of each others’ company. She found the carving up on his shelf one late afternoon, not long after they’d met, when she’d gone to fetch him for Cook. She could not resist a closer look at its delicate work and found herself turning it round about in her long, slim fingers, marveling at the intricacy of the petals.

‘A friend made that for me,’ he’d said, coming quietly up behind her. ‘Uien, it was.’ She dropped it in his outstretched hand. ‘Someone who holds you dear, I think,’ Zimzi said, a considering look on her face. ‘Tell me of her, if you will.’

Derufin spoke at length of the woman, his guileless words allaying Zimzi’s fears. Derufin, for his part, had liked Uien from the start. A shy little thing, he said fondly of her, just needing a gentling hand to help her find her own way. Skittish, unsure, like a new filly her legs still a bit wobbly beneath her.

Never mind that she was probably years older than him, he’d simply seen her with fresh eyes and expected no more of her than he would of himself, thought Zimzi, now looking back on that conversation. She’d seen him do this with others that he’d met. His straightforward acceptance letting them meet him on an equal footing.

Zimzi smiled up at Derufin as he raised his glass to her and spoke his toast. The bond between them was so sure now that she knew it could hold all of their past without exclusion. She took a sip of her wine and rose from her seat, saying to him she would return in a moment.

The Common Room was crowded with people, and after a few false starts, Zimzi saw Uien sitting at a table with another Elf, two men, and some Hobbits. She caught the woman’s eye as she approached saying, ‘You’re Uien, are you not?’ The Elf colored a bit at the attention and nodded. Zimzi went on, saying that she knew they had not met as yet, but that Derufin had spoken fondly of Uien and often. And would she and her friend, Zimzi smiled graciously at Falowik, not come into the kitchen and share a glass of wine with her and Derufin? ‘I feel that I know you already, Mistress Uien,’ she said, laughing and taking the Elf’s hands into her own. ‘I know you were a friend to Derufin, and I should like to think we could also be friends.’

‘Come,’ she urged them, stepping back toward the kitchen. ‘Raise a toast with us. He will be overjoyed to see you, I know. Wish Derufin well on his new adventure.’

Uien’s brow furrowed at the last words, asking what venture that might be.

Zimzi laughed, motioning them both to follow after her. ‘We’re to be wed. Come, share our happiness . . .’