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‘You’ve the right of that, Master Widlast,’ Granny returned. ‘Named after the Bellflower by my mother. I was her only girl, you see, and she called me after her favorite flower.’ Granny closed her eyes for a moment recalling her mother’s meandering flower garden and the riot of colorful penstemons planted there.
The elder Hobbit took a swig of the sweetspice tea Rowan had brought round for them. And once done, helped herself to a thick slice of toast and a generous helping of blackberry jam. ‘You sure you won’t have a mug along with me and something a little more substantial than an apple slice?’ She pushed a mug toward him, followed by the basket of toast. ‘Have two, why don’t you,’ she went on. ‘The blackberry jam’s some of the best around. And the honey, I do believe, is some from my own hives. Very tasty, if I do say so myself.’ She munched thoughtfully on her piece of toast.
‘You know,’ Granny said, turning her attention back on Widlast. ‘That’s an interesting coat you’ve got on there. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one like it before. Where’d you get it, if you don’t mind my asking?’
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