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Cook and Benat
Cook padded after Ginger, wondering what could have gotten into the girl. A giant? A dog the size of a pony? And asking after Mister Bilbo, himself? But she had only to walk into the common room, and there he was. She couldn’t help but stare. He was the largest man she’d ever seen. Taller than any of the Fair Folk, too. And big . . . his chest was nearly the size of one of the huge barrels used for brewing. And those legs of his . . . the breeches could not hide the fact that they were as thick as a small oak’s trunk. Her eyes made their way to his face, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he smiled her way and nodded in greeting.
‘What was his name?’ Cook whispered to Ginger. ‘Benat,’ came the reply from the girl who passed by her and drew near the man’s table.
Cook could hear a loud THUMP . . . THUMP . . . that came in a steady and quickening rhythm. Ginger held out a hand and made some beckoning noises. And there, indeed, was the largest dog that Cook had ever seen. The creature came walking up to Ginger, his tail wagging so hard, it fair shook the tables it brushed against as it passed by them. ‘This is Cullen,’ laughed Ginger as the dog gave her a welcoming slurp on her cheek.
‘Oh my!’ said Cook, her right hand held against her wildly beating heart. She took a deep breath to recover herself, then stepped up near to Benat. She kept a wary eye on the dog; she was never one to take a shine to creatures of the canine persuaion, especially since they always seemed bent on bedeviling her beloved cats.
‘Master Benat,’ she said, giving the man a small bow. ‘I’m Vinca Bunce, the long-time cook here at the Inn. Ginger, here, tells me you’re asking after Mister Bilbo. Can I answer any questions for you?’
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