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Cook was just covering the crockery bowls filled with yeast dough with clean cloths and setting them on the hearth when the door to the kitchen inched open and a cloaked Hobbit lass poked her head in. ‘Come in, girl,’ said Cook eyeing the stranger. ‘No sense shouting across the room to each other.’ She put down the last covered bowl and motioned for the Hobbit to be seated. ‘Out late, eh? Not from round these parts, I think. Leastways, these old eyes don’t recognize you. And what be your name?’ she asked, pouring the Hobbit a cup of hot tea.
A few sips later, and she had found out several pieces of information about the girl. Her name was Caity Brandybuck; she liked to travel . . . and under the moonlight, to the surprise of Cook, who thought the night was meant for sleeping soundly in one’s own bed, though she kept her opinion to herself for the moment; she’d seen the notice for volunteers nailed near the Inn door; and well, she’d like to know if the flute/pennywhistle player was still needed.
‘Well,’ said Cook, seeing the hopeful look in the girl’s eyes. ‘I should think they will still be needing a player. Can’t have too many making music, in my opinion. Makes for better dancing, don’t you think?’ Cook sipped a bit on her own mug of tea, and brought out a small dish of thick, crisp oatmeal cookies to stave off the beginning hunger in her grumbling belly. She pushed the plate toward Caity
‘It’s young Gil you’ll want to be seeing. He’s a local lad. Won’t be in til breakfast is served. He and his friends will be playing for the party today.’ She eyed the wet, bedraggled state of the Hobbit. ‘You know, we’re putting up the volunteers while they’re here to help with the party. Let me just fetch Ruby; she’ll show you to a room. Get a good night’s sleep. Come down to the Common Room for breakfast then, later. Gil will be here, with Tomlin, Fallon, and Ferrin.’ She waved Ruby over who’d just come down from her room and was yawning. ‘Take Caity here back to one of the small rooms. She’s come to play for the party.’ Before they left she called out, as an afterthought. ‘You don’t by any chance sing do you? Be lovely to have a female voice with all those lads . . .’
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