[Arry]

Andwise leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Ginger had come round once more, and he’d let her sweet-talk him into taking some dessert this time. Once done, he’d discretely unbuttoned the last button on his vest and loosened his belt a little. Time for another pipeful to settle it all together, then he and Ferdy would be on their way home. He scooted his chair to the side and tipped it back, resting his feet on an empty bench next to him. ‘We really should come here more often,’ he thought to himself, surveying the hubbub of the Common room. ‘The fare is excellent!’ He sent up a small prayer of thanks wrapped in a smoke ring for the Inn’s Cook. ‘Yes,’ he thought, comfortably patting his stomach, ‘and I’ll bring Mother. She’ll be glad of some female company, rather than her two stodgy menfolk.’

Ferdy sat joking with his friends. They were all a bit tipsy; speaking louder than necessary and each of them feeling himself to be a most clever fellow. Andwise chuckled to himself. Ferdy had apparently enough ale in him to give him a bit of Dwarf courage. As Ginger had passed by with the tray of desserts, he’d given her a bold eye and smiled at her. And despite the ribbing of his cohorts, he’d managed a word or two to her. Ginger had blushed, but held her own at whatever the young fool had said. And, my stars, if it didn’t look like she had given back as good as she got from him. She’d trounced off, red curls bobbing, and then stopped for one moment and turned to give a quick smile and a saucy wink to Ferdy. Andwise grinned and nodded his head at her retreating figure. Ferdy’s pals slapped him heartily on the back, teasing him about his boldness. ‘And about time, too, you boring old trout,’ he heard one of them say to his son. ‘You’ll wind up like old Mr. Baggins . . . dancing at other lads’ weddings and never your own!’

At the word ‘wedding’ Ferdy spluttered into his mug, choking on a mouthful of ale. Andwise came over to him, as his pals successfully whacked him on the back, and tapped the boy’s shoulder. ‘Time for us to be heading home, son. Going to be an early day tomorrow if we’re to get everything done as is needs doing before the handfasting.’ He eyed the other lads meaningfully as well. ‘And you lot . . . I expect to see you at the cottage early as well. That room won’t get done by itself, I reckon. Can’t do the cabinets and mouldings til it is, either; now can I?’

The young Hobbits all groaned at the truth of the old fellow's words. They wobbled up out of their chairs, made sure to pass by Buttercup and say their fond farewells, then arms about each other they managed to make it to the path leading home.