[piosenniel]

The planning begins . . .

All signs of fatigue fell from the two Hobbits as they took in Cook’s last words. One of the other servers called in through the door from the Common Room that more plates of chicken and vegetables were needed, as additional guests had come into the Inn. And Buttercup, not taking her eyes from Cook called back to the server that they were tied up at the moment, and could she see to the guests herself. Cook raised her brows at Buttercup, who took no notice, and sat forward on her chair.

‘Now let me just get this straight, Cook. In a week’s time . . .’ ‘Or less,’ commented Ruby, who was leaning forward also, all ears. ‘Or less,’ continued Buttercup, ‘Zimzi’s mother and father and two brothers will arrive from Mithlond.’ Cook nodded ‘yes’, as Buttercup went on. ‘And the reason they’re coming is that their daughter, sister, is to be wed . . .’ ‘To Derufin,’ said Ruby, finishing her friend’s sentence.

Buttercup wriggled in her seat and smiled smugly at Ruby. ‘Didn’t I predict this would be happening ? As far back as when they left!’ Ruby snorted at her crowing, ‘We all knew this was coming. I just wish we’d known a little sooner. Derufin’s one of our own . . . and Zimzi’s soon to be one, too. We’d like to make sure the place is in tip top shape when they arrive.’

Cook got up and rummaged in one of the drawers. She pulled out a piece of paper, one of the many she had, to jot down recipes as they came to her. She opened the cupboard just above and there was her inkwell and quill. ‘No time like the present,’ she said, sitting back down at the table. ‘We’ll make a plan and get to it early in the morning. With a little elbow grease and a dash of spit and polish we’ll have the Dragon looking quite respectable . . . the sort of place you wouldn’t mind having a daughter make her home in.’ The three Hobbits drew their chairs close together and began making their to-do list. Buttercup sighed, happily, as Cook's quill flew over the paper in her familiar script. ‘Nice to have her back,’ she thought to herself. As if in agreement, Ruby nodded her head and smiled at her friend. Oblivious to the both of them, Cook nattered on with directions on what needed to be done, and in what order.

Derufin bent his head to whisper in Zimzi’s ear. ‘Let’s leave the ladies to their planning – they don’t really need us.’ He took her by the hand, drawing her out the door. ‘We’ll go for a walk . . . to the Pool, perhaps . . . see if the ducks are still about.’ Zimzi was just nodding her head in agreement, when Cook’s voice rang out, stopping them both in their tracks.

‘Make sure it’s just a walk, you two! Master Derufin, you know I’ve promised Zimzi’s parents I would keep an eye on you both until they arrived. A little handholding is fine, but no canoodling!’

Derufin and Zimzi’s faces were the perfect picture of conformance. ‘I give my word to you, Mistress Bunce,’ assured Derufin, a smile softening his features. He raised Zimzi’s palm to his lips and kissed it lightly, then grasped her hand in his own. ‘The thought of canoodling will not enter my mind.’ ‘Nor mine,’ added Zimzi, shaking her head solemnly.

Cook looked at them, one eyebrow raised in appraisal of their sincerity, then sighed, remembering the days of her youth, and sent them off. She handed the pen to Buttercup for the taking of notes and directions as she and Ruby inspected the pantry and cooler for what would be needed for the upcoming festivities.

The server came in as before, requesting that more food be brought out to the Common Room. Buttercup did not raise her eyes from her list, but merely pointed with the quill's feathers in the direction of the stove and the serving plates.