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‘Look,’ said Derufin, stopping in midstep as he noted a familiar mop of grey curls a few couples away. ‘It’s Cook! And she’s dancing with the spice tradesman from Tuckburrough, isn’t she?’
Zimzi craned her neck, laughing as she spotted Cook’s smiling face. ‘I think perhaps Aman had better keep any eye on that. Otherwise she’ll be cooking the meals for the Inn!’
‘You know,’ continued Derufin, maneuvering Zimzi toward the dessert table, ‘it’s been a long time since breakfast. And look, there’s our cake all sort of waiting for someone to take a slice out of it.’ He gave her a quick squeeze about the waist, 'What do you say?’
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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