[Envinyatar]

He really did feel better, he concluded, stretching his neck to one shoulder and then the other. The headache was gone, and with it had fled the incipient threat of revolt by his belly. ‘Bless you, Miz Bunce!’ he said aloud to her empty room.

Derufin leaned forward over the dressing table that stood to the side of the Hobbit’s door, and inspected his face. The nap had done wonders to clear the dark circles from beneath his eyes. The hot bath and shave had taken off a layer of grime and stubbly hair, letting him appear more the eager husband to be than some brigand come to carry the lady off. From the bottle of splash Cook had given him, Derufin poured a few drops into his palms and slapped it briskly onto his clean shaven cheeks and jaw. It was an enervating mixture, to say the least. And the smell, much to his delight, displaced the odor of lilacs from the Hobbit’s soap.

Sakal had brought over his clothes for the celebration. Clean, new black breeches held in place by a dark leather belt, a soft grey tunic Zimzi had made for him, and his black leather vest . . . not the one he wore every day, mind you, but his good one, for special occasions. Merry had done a miraculous job on his boots. The supple leather was cleaned and buffed to a handsome shine. The familiar odor of saddle soap and polish clung to them making him laugh. He could just see the Hobbit sitting on a hay bale, brandishing the polish cloth and buffing brush, and all the while explaining to his four legged charges how even the two-leggeds needed a bit of sprucing up now and then.

Done, he looked at himself once more. His dark hair was pulled back and secured by a plain leather thong to hang down behind his shoulders. The clothes he’d put on looked good enough and even his nails were quite clean and presentable at the direction of Cook. As a manner of habit, Derufin polished the toes of his boots on the backs of his legs, then headed out into the kitchen. He unlocked the doors, and tidied up as he could the tub and towels he’d used.

Only a few people were in the Common room as he passed through, and most of them were the servers running in to fetch last minute things for the start of the party. They shouted to him as they saw him, wishing him the best of days. By the time he reached the front door, he was grinning, caught up in the happy, infectious mood. He stood for a moment on the porch, blinking in the bright sun’s light. A thought crept up from the back of his mind and he began to pat the little pockets on his vest and then fished into the pockets of his breeches. A mystified look took hold the features of his face.

A soft laugh and a quick nudge of his elbow brought his attention to his right . . . to Sakal, who stood grinning like a cat got into cream. ‘Hold out your hand, if you will. I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be lost,’ he said, placing the slim gold band into Derufin’s palm. Derufin shook his head at the man, ‘Had me quite alarmed for a moment!’ He smiled back at Sakal and secured the ring in an inner pocket of his vest.

‘Let’s walk about and see who’s here,’ he said, motioning for Sakal to come along with him . . .