[piosenniel]

Cook handed round a straight razor and a mirror to Derufin as requested. The razor had been her late husband’s, made of good dwarven steel he liked to tell the boys. Held an edge forever, he would brag to them. Still, she handed Derufin the strop, too; telling him he could hook the ring over the chair back. The sound of the rhythmic swish-swish brought back pleasant memories of her own dear’s little ritual for shaving. As an afterthought she passed the man a little bottle of the solution she’d made for her mister to use after a shave. She still made it now and then, a little of it, just enough to keep the bottle filled and remind her of her dear when she unstoppered it. Bay leaves, it was, and two sprigs of rosemary, covered with a southron spirit called rum. Left for a month to steep, the liquid was refreshing to the face, or so her husband had told her, and had a deep, satisfying scent.

She’d just heard Derufin begin to scrape the blade across his whiskers when someone came banging on the locked door to the common room. It was Ginger, she could tell, though the girl was out of breath and a bit raspy. Cook fetched the keys from her apron pocket and unlocked the door. Ginger, her hand already on the door’s knob, stumbled in through the door and fell against Cook.

‘Been dipping into the Grannies’ punch, have you?’ said Cook maneuvering Ginger to a chair. The scent of maywine and cherry cordial lingered about her. Ginger waved off the question, saying it was but one small cup . . . and more important was the news she brought. Samwise and his family had arrived for the party.

Cook grinned widely. She’d hadn’t a chance to see the new wee one that Rose and Sam had added to their brood. Little baby Daisy! Today would be her chance. More important, though, Mayor Sam would have brought the Hobbiton/Bywater book of births and deaths and handfastings. Mister Derufin and Mistress Zimzi’s union would be recorded for . . . now what was the word that Samwise used . . . posterity,that was it . . .

From behind the screen across the kitchen came the sound of someone clearing his throat. Ginger raised her brows, then nodded as Cook mouthed . . . ‘Derufin’ . . . and ‘cleaning up a bit’ . . . ‘If you ladies wouldn’t mind, I’ll just go into your room Cook and dry off and get dressed. Sakal’s put my clothes in there, hasn’t he?’

‘And your boots are by the wardrobe,’ Cook added, taking off her apron. She hung it on a peg by the door and left the man to get out of the tub and get dressed. She turned Ginger around and putting her arm about the girl’s shoulders, steered her out of the Inn. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to Sam and Rose and all the little Gardners . . .’