[Arry]

Ferdy

‘G’wan, Ferdy,’ Gil urged him. ‘Get Ginger a piece of cake and a cup of cider. The boys and I will play a nice tune for you in a little while . . . you can ask her to dance . . . Shoo!’ He gave Ferdy a little nudge in the direction of the desserts . . .

Following Gil’s advice was easier said than done. Oh, to be sure, the getting of the cake was simple enough, he thought . . . a nice large slice with a number of the yellow candied violets on it . . . he fancied her in yellow, he thought, craning his neck once again to catch sight of her . . . she was pretty, like those tulips his Gammer liked to grow . . .

‘Cake, sir?’ one of the servers said prompting him out of his little daydream. Ferdy felt a flush creeping up his neck as he accepted the plate.

Now to grab a mug of cider from the drinks’ table. Luckily the neither the sight of the little pottery mug or the color of the liquid sent him into any flights of fancy . . . though, the mug was quite full when he picked it up and he sipped a bit off the top to keep it from spilling . . . a small smile creased his face as he thought it might be nice to kiss someone who’d just drunk some of this . . .

Cook was at the table, retrieving her own drink when she saw him. ‘Master Ferdy,’ she said, causing him to look up guiltily. ‘Enjoying the Inn’s fine cider? Made from the finest apples in the Shire.’ She took a sip of her own. ‘Enjoying the party?’

Well, here’s a pickle, he thought casting a quick glance to see where the object of his affection had gone off to – Cook is making small talk! Long planted manners got the best of him and he chatted with her for a few moments. Luckily, one of her dance partners, Ferdy could not recall the name, came to claim her.

With as swift a step as the bouncing liquid in the mug would allow, Ferdy made his way over to where Ginger stood. She had moved near the little platform where the band was playing and stood tapping her foot to the music. He was almost to her, when some bold lad offered her his hand and pulled her into the swirl of dancers.

Gil, noting his friend at the edge of the stage, shook his head . . .