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Amadi didn't need to be asked twice. Setting his pack behind the door and draping his leather coat over it, he shut the door behind him. The kitchen boasted a beautiful array of cookware, with wide open spaces and an oven big enough to broil steaks from a mūmak. And it was very well stocked, Amadi thought, mouth watering as he peered into the pantry. The wealth of goods dried and fresh sent his mind racing through all of the recipes that could be made. And if the rest of the Shire was any indication, this was only a small portion of the inn's food store. He brought himself back to Master Boffin's words with an effort.
"There's no rightful reason why something should 'ave happened to her," the inkeeper was saying. "What I always says is, them as keep out of trouble, stay out of trouble. But it ain't so this time."
Amadi shook his head. "If you pardon me sayin' so, everyone's got troubles. For your cook's sake, I hope it's the kind that she's found to remedy, and not one that's found her."
He looked at the many plates on the table. Even with the loss of their cook, they seemed to have managed well on their own. "Nevermind the tour," he said. "I'll find my way round in here fair enough, and you can show me the rest before I start on supper. Let's get these plates out first. I assume since it's all the same thing no one's special ordered, then?"
Amadi picked up three plates, deftly balancing two on one arm, and pushed through the inner door which he guessed would lead him to to the main area of the inn. He was correct, finding himself in a pleasant, open room with a huge hearth and many smaller tables and chairs. The door swinging to behind him got the attention of several guests, who (especially the hobbits) seemed relieved that food was finally on its way. It wasn't terribly crowded, but there were enough guests to give the room a constant murmur of noise.
He moved toward the nearest occupied table--a booth with three elves seated together. The silver-haired one had turned away from the door to say something to the one across from her, but as she turned and Amadi caught sight of her face, he stopped in his tracks.
Amadi muttered some less than savory Haradric under his breath. "That one? Here?" He couldn't believe his horrible luck. One of the other elves had caught sight of him; he couldn't turn to another table without drawing even more attention, and if he backed into the kitchen, what would he tell Master Boffin? He could put his newfound job in jeopardy. But if she recognized him, and was one of the ones who held a grudge, it might be even worse. It was a terrible dilemma.
Maybe she wouldn't recognize him, he tried to calm himself as he slowly resumed his walk to the table. His arm protectors were covered temporarily by the plates in his hands; if he just dropped off the food and nipped right back into that kitchen for a very long tour maybe she wouldn't remember him. Yes, and perhaps while he was at it he could wish himself a pretty little sailing ship with wings and fly all the way to Gondor.
Stars, had he been born under a luckless sky?
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