[Primrose Bolger]

‘Ginger, ma’am. Ginger Gamwich. From Bywater. My Ma’s sent me down to help Miz Bunce for the week. Lots of things to be done for the big party. And like my Ma always says – Many hands make light work.’

The Hobbit took a gulp of her tea to wet her now dry throat. My goodness! Here I am talking to one of the Fair Folk! she thought sneaking a look at the Elf’s face. I wonder if I should call her ma’am? Truth be told she looks hardly older than me. But didn’t Da say they lived a long, long time and didn’t age like us other folk do? Ginger pushed back the stray red curls from her face and twitched her little freckled nose as she thought.

Curiosity overcame her. The Elf looked a little lonely, she thought, as she watched her sip her tea. ‘Pardon my asking, ma’am . . . and you can tell me to mind my own business if you want to . . . but what’s a young one like you doing so far from home? Are you heading to the Havens, like my Da told me about? Or are you meeting someone here?’ Ginger’s romantic inclinations had grabbed hold of her imagination – perhaps some handsome Elf lord was looking for her and would carry her away on some great horse . . . She sighed dreamily, and reined in her fantasy as she looked over at the Elf again.

‘Or maybe you’re here for the handfasting. Is that it? Do you know Mister Derufin and his lady. Have you come to help?’

She looked down at her hands and sighed. They were grubby, despite her washing of them, from her work in the garden. Embarrassed, she folded them in her lap. The Elf’s hands she noted were lovely, the fingers long and tapered. No garden dirt clung to the fingernails.

‘I’m nattering on too much, aren’t I?’ she said in a low voice, her cheeks a little red from the realization. ‘One of my many faults, or so my Ma says.’ She took another sip of her tea as she collected her wits about her, then smiled at Gwenneth. ‘I’ll be quiet for a bit, I promise. Go on now – you talk, and tell me about yourself.’