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Rowan nudged Prim as the Innkeeper turned away to deal with one of the guests, one of the Fair Folk. 'Psst!' she whispered drawing Prim's attention now fully. 'Help me pile up the rest of these dishes and I'll cart them into the kitchen.' Rowan glanced at Master Boffin, noting his attention was still on his business the Elf. 'I'll set them to soaking in some nice sudsy water and see about going to Cook's room like we talked about. Maybe I can find something to tell us where she's gone.'
Prim stacked the dishes nose high in Rowan's hands and followed her into the kitchen with a precarious piling of cups and cutlery in her own hands. stacking them in the big sink alongside Rowan's heap of dirt dishes, she made her way to the stove and grabbed the steaming kettle. Tucking a packet of tea into her apron pocket she walked carefully back toward the door into the common room. 'You go on, then,' she said to her friend, stopping just before she made her exit. Prim jutted her chin toward the door into Cook's room. 'I'll pass about some fresh tea and make myself look busy tidying up with broom and rag. If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're busy washing up.' Good luck! she mouthed backing carefully through the door.
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Where to start? Where to start? Rowan mused as she closed the door to Cook's room behind her. The room was neat and tidy, the bed made, the hand towel by the pitcher and basin stand folded just so. There were some things missing, she noted. That small picture of trees round a a swimming hole in the bend of some lazy looking river; the sunlight slanting through the trees, dappling the surface of the water. Cook had kept it on the little table by her bed.
Rowan opened the large oaken wardrobe that stood along the wall to her right. A number of blouses and skirts were gone, along with Cook's hooded cloak. All packed, no doubt, into the large carpetbag Cook had kept stored under her bed and was now missing. Small clothes were gone too from the drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe. Grabbed out in a hurry, it seemed, as other contents of the drawers were pushed around and left in disarray.
The curious hobbit poked about in the wardrobe, finding nothing of any significance as far as she was concerned. As a last thought she carried the little chair from desk in the corner and set it close in front of the wardrobe. Rowan climbed up on it and ran her hands along the deep shelf. Nothing of any note, she thought. Some bandanas, a couple of hats, a single glove, missing its mate, a woolen scarf.
Wait! What’s this? Her fingers pushed up against something hard and bumpy in the back corner. Rowan eased the object out until she could get a firm grip on it. ‘Interesting,’ she murmured aloud as she turned the little shell-covered box over in her hands, admiring the pretty shells affixed to it.
Rowan clambered down from the chair, taking care not to drop the little treasure. Once firmly planted on the floor she lifted the lid and peeked inside . . .
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