[Lalwendë]

Jinniver Cornthrift had been busy since breakfast. She had brought her horse, Nutkin, out to take some fresh air, and then had been seeing to the goods she carried in her cart. Under the tarpaulin were boxes and packets of seeds, all labelled in Jinniver’s own hesitant but neat handwriting, there were empty plant pots, hand painted in bright colours, and wooden containers with little jars, packed in straw to keep them safe. These jars contained the sauces Jinniver made, following her mother’s old recipes. These too were labelled, “Cornthrift Farm Condiments, The Greenway, Bree”. Jinniver checked to see that all this produce was safe, and then began to attend to the trays of seedlings and cuttings which took up most of the space in the cart.

After she had finished watering all her plants, Jinniver felt in need of a rest, and sat down on the grass at the side of the road, in the shade of her cart, and lit up her pipe. Her hair was coming loose again and she began to wish she had gone back up to her room to tidy it up, but now she felt too tired to do so and simply knotted it back onto the nape of her neck once more. She was wondering whether to go into Hobbiton with her wares when she saw an extremely round hobbit coming up the road, and she stopped to watch him.

He was as wide as he was tall, and his round stomach reminded Jinniver of a large ball, stuffed inside a fancy waistcoat; his head was also rather round, and his face was red. She smiled to see him, and even though she pretended to be looking at the view, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the hobbit. Despite his rotund frame, he was walking quickly and soon drew level with Jinniver, where he halted, leaning on his walking stick.

“I say, young miss, could I trouble you for a light?” he asked, his head on one side.

“Why, of course, “ said Jinniver, standing up. The hobbit lit up his pipe, took a deep draught and exhaled with a sigh. “Egbert Proudfoot,” he extended his hand and Jinniver shook it tentatively. “Retired Gentlehobbit of Hobbiton. Most pleased to meet you miss.”

“And I am Jinniver Cornthrift of Bree, here on business, although it is turning out to be quite a pleasurable trip” Jinniver smiled, and Egbert asked her about her line of business, something which Jinniver felt quite comfortable discussing with this strange hobbit. Before long, they were looking at the packets of seeds and happily talking about blooms and slug remedies and soil improvements. She had soon learned the names of the many keen gardeners in the village, who Egbert assured her would welcome the chance to buy some of her seeds and cuttings.

“You might have heard of the Gamgees, they have become real collectors of rare plant species. Have you seen the Mallorn tree yet?”, said Egbert. Jinniver had heard of this wonderful tree, and was excited to hear about it. She asked the hobbit to tell her more, about how Hobbiton had come by it, but he said he regretfully had to be moving on, as he was due to visit his son for lunch, but before he went on his way, he bought as many packets of seed as he could carry, and he asked her to deliver some seedlings to his hobbit hole down the road.

Jinniver watched the hobbit go and felt happy. She looked at the coins in her hand, lost in thought for a moment. She had come to The Shire hoping to earn money and make some contacts, but it was also turning out to be something of a holiday, an experience she had never before had. Many years ago she had felt great happiness, but this had all too soon turned to regret and fear, and since then her life had mostly been hard work. She was almost afraid of happiness, in case it was taken away from her. The memory of herself as a very young woman floated into her mind, and quickly she shook it away. She didn’t want the past to spoil the simple happiness she felt now, and she did what she always did to help her forget, work. Purposefully, she took out her accounts book and logged the sale she had just made, then made her way back inside the inn to have something to drink before delivering Mr Proudfoot’s order.