[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger looked at Larien in surprise. ‘Rivendell? I heard of that place. Master Samwise, the mayor was there for a while with Mister Frodo. One of the Fair Folk places, isn’t it?’ She took the dough she’d mixed up and began to knead it lightly. ‘Lot of the Fair Folk have passed through the Shire, heading off to the sea. Some of them even stay here at the Inn for a while.’ She flattened the dough out onto the floured top of the table and flattened it out with her hand, preparing to use the big rolling pin on it. ‘Seems like there wouldn’t be too many left where you came from.’ She rubbed the tip of her nose with the back of her arm as it had begun to itch. Her efforts left a fine dusting of flour on her nose and left cheek. ‘What were you doing there, living in Rivendell, and all?’ she said looking up from her work. ‘That is if you don’t mind telling me.’

She noticed that Larien was attacking the pans with some vigor; plying them with grease and a heavy hand. Laughing, Ginger urged her to be more gentle. ‘Rub a hole in that poor old pan, if you keep at it like that!’