The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

piosenniel · 08-28-2004, 03:41 PM

‘Have mercy, lass! Those poor taters have done nothing to you! You’re at them like Master Peregrin and Master Meriadoc taking after those ruffians at the Battle of Bywater!’ Cook eased the paring knife from Ginger’s grip and took the mangled tuber from her other hand. ‘And what’s this,’ she asked in a gentler tone, wiping the fat tears from the girl’s red cheeks with a corner of her apron. ‘These aren’t onions you’re chopping. What’s got the wind up you?’

Now it had been quite some time since Cook had comforted a sobbing young Hobbit, but once her arms had gone round the girl it all came back to her. Words wouldn’t do now, she recalled, clucking her tongue sympathetically as the sniffling explanation came out in spurts and starts and garbled phrases. The old story . . . her own daughters had gone through it themselves. ‘Sometimes, I wonder,’ she thought to herself as she patted the lass on the back and offered her a clean handkerchief from her apron pocket, ‘sometimes, I do wonder how we manage to go on and keep the Shire populated. ‘Course if it were up to the men folk, they’d be spending all their time at the Inn, lining up their mugs instead of home tending to family things. Need handling, the most of them. Leastways that my ma taught me.’

The tears and snuffled statements were winding down now. Ginger was at the hiccoughing stage of being angry and frustrated. Cook led her to a chair and sat her down. She fetched a cold mug of water and a wet cloth to clean away the streaky tracks left by the tears. Once the girl had got a modicum of composure back, Cook fetched her a cup of hot tea with honey and sat down with her.

‘The taters can be done later,’ she said as the puffy-eyed Ginger looked guiltily toward the waiting pile.’ She took a drink from her own mug of the steamy brew and sitting it down on the table top, leaned forward resting her crossed arms on the top, too.’

‘Now, tell me, Mistress Gamwich,’ said Cook in a kindly, but firm, voice. ‘Have you discussed this with your ma? And what has she told you, girl?’

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08-28-2004, 03:41 PM	#11
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	‘Have mercy, lass! Those poor taters have done nothing to you! You’re at them like Master Peregrin and Master Meriadoc taking after those ruffians at the Battle of Bywater!’ Cook eased the paring knife from Ginger’s grip and took the mangled tuber from her other hand. ‘And what’s this,’ she asked in a gentler tone, wiping the fat tears from the girl’s red cheeks with a corner of her apron. ‘These aren’t onions you’re chopping. What’s got the wind up you?’ Now it had been quite some time since Cook had comforted a sobbing young Hobbit, but once her arms had gone round the girl it all came back to her. Words wouldn’t do now, she recalled, clucking her tongue sympathetically as the sniffling explanation came out in spurts and starts and garbled phrases. The old story . . . her own daughters had gone through it themselves. ‘Sometimes, I wonder,’ she thought to herself as she patted the lass on the back and offered her a clean handkerchief from her apron pocket, ‘sometimes, I do wonder how we manage to go on and keep the Shire populated. ‘Course if it were up to the men folk, they’d be spending all their time at the Inn, lining up their mugs instead of home tending to family things. Need handling, the most of them. Leastways that my ma taught me.’ The tears and snuffled statements were winding down now. Ginger was at the hiccoughing stage of being angry and frustrated. Cook led her to a chair and sat her down. She fetched a cold mug of water and a wet cloth to clean away the streaky tracks left by the tears. Once the girl had got a modicum of composure back, Cook fetched her a cup of hot tea with honey and sat down with her. ‘The taters can be done later,’ she said as the puffy-eyed Ginger looked guiltily toward the waiting pile.’ She took a drink from her own mug of the steamy brew and sitting it down on the table top, leaned forward resting her crossed arms on the top, too.’ ‘Now, tell me, Mistress Gamwich,’ said Cook in a kindly, but firm, voice. ‘Have you discussed this with your ma? And what has she told you, girl?’ Last edited by piosenniel; 09-02-2004 at 03:50 PM.