[piosenniel]

‘Naught that you can protect me from,’ came the muffled reply. Zimzi raised her face and pulled a little away from him, so that she might look him in the face. A little color had come back into her cheeks, and a little warmth to her hands, now, as he took them between his own and chafed them gently.

‘Then what I might I do for you,’ he returned.

‘Help me up, if you will’ she said putting one of her hands on the banister as he stood with her other grasped firmly in his. She peered down toward the table where Eodwine and his gathered group sat, listening to the music and song. ‘Do you see that man down there?’ She directed Derufin’s attention to where Eodwine sat, a mug in hand. In quick words she gave an outline of the story he had told.

‘It should have made me glad that he was rescued by those brave companions. And indeed I do rejoice that he lives and Sauron’s minion is vanquished. But it chills me to the very bone that another being of some power, one of the maiar he said, was corrupted and still lives. And quite possibly just north of the Shire. What fell schemes might that one weave, who has all the time in Arda to concoct them.’ She shivered a little at the thought. ‘If we are to live here and raise our family, I would that our time and theirs be marred only by the little ills that come into one’s life naturally.’ She looked him gravely in the eye. ‘What could be done to make our children and their children safe? How will we know that the evil he spoke of is truly defeated?’

‘Let me speak with Uien,’ he said, taking her concerns seriously. ‘And I’ll see what I can learn from Eodwine and from Falco.’

She looped her arm through his and went down the steps. At the landing, they spoke briefly with Buttercup, who’d been called away to see to the needs of the crowd. She was relieved that what black mood had struck Zimzi now seemed to have left her for the moment.

Derufin opened the door to the kitchen, ushering Zimzi through. He was about to take a step in, himself, when the loud command stayed his entrance.

‘I just finished mopping the mess you made on your way in, Stablemaster!’ came the irate voice of Cook. She leaned on the rag mop handle, a bucket of dirty water near her feet and glared at him. ‘You keep your muck and mire in the stable where it belongs!’ She cocked her head and pointed a finger at his feet. ‘Now you just be taking those boots off now if you intend to step foot in my kitchen!’

Zimzi smiled and bit back a comment of her own. ‘Best do as Mistress Vinca says, Derufin. Or you’ll have to take the long way round for a cup of tea. And even then we’ll be sitting on the back step to drink it.’