[Nurumaiel]

Marigold's eyes sparkled as she helped Buttercup with the work, made twice as lovely because her little stomach was now full. She had some small bit of childish clumsiness, but she worked deftly and efficiently. After all, she had helped her dear mamma in the kitchen many, many times, and she was accustomed to working in this manner. Every so often she would steal shy, awe-filled glances at the tall beautiful woman. She was one of the Fair Folk, they said? Well, she was fair. Marigold had thought this was one of the Big Folk. What did her papa say the Fair Folk were? They were Elves, he said. What was an Elf doing in the kitchen of a Hobbit Inn?

There was that tall fellow. He said he was one of the Big Folk. She wasn't in the least shy of him. She had seen tall Big Folk men before. But it was so very odd... why was this Big Folk man the husband of one of the Fair Folk? No, but he said he wasn't handfasted with her. Marigold shook her head. At nearly eleven years old she thought she was very old and worldly-wise, but some things were still beyond her.

She gave a special smile to the hobbit boy. He was very old in her eyes, but he was a hobbit nevertheless and it was comforting to have one more hobbit about. That way there were more hobbits than Big Folk and Fair Folk. Not that she didn't like the Big Folk, but hobbits were always best to a hobbit.

She tripped to the door, opened it, and peeked out. "They're making things so beautiful out there," she said. "I heard there was going to be a hand-fasting. I hope there really will be. I've never been to a hand-fasting before, but it must be beautiful. I saw my cousin getting ready for her hand-fasting. She was so pretty in her dress, and she looked so happy. She wasn't as pretty as my mamma, though. I wish I could have seen my mamma get married." She smiled a wistful little smile, and then returned to Buttercup's side. "My mamma used to tell me stories about her hand-fasting. She said she was the happiest girl in the Shire that day. It was a beautiful fair day and they were hand-fasted under a bower of lilacs. That was my father's idea, because my mamma was called Lilac. I think it would be beautiful to be hand-fasted under a bower of your very own name flower, don't you? I'd like to be hand-fasted under a bower of marigolds. That would be lovely, don't you think?"

She was silent for the slightest bit of a moment, and then she smiled and tossed a little curl away from her face. "I met the funniest old hobbit today," she said. "He's all finely dressed but his clothes are so muddy. He seemed very upset about something. Well, no, not upset, but he seems like the type of hobbit who is always worrying about something. I think it would be terrible to always be worrying, don't you? I like to be cheerful as much as I can. Life is so wonderful and cheerful and happy, and I can't help but be happy with it. Life is only ever unhappy if I make it unhappy by being unhappy myself. So I stay happy as much as I can, and so does life."

Marigold ceased in both her work and her chattering for a moment to brush another curl out of her eyes. She gave an impatient little stamp of her foot, and then put her hands into her dress pocket and brought out a little ribbon. She tied the curls back effectively with this and then returned to both work and chattering. "My mamma always used to tie my hair back every day. Not so it was stiff and ugly, you know, but so it was nice and pretty with little curls around my ears. It can be very difficult to work and play when you have hair in the way. My mamma didn't have golden hair, you know. She said there were only a very few hobbits with golden hair before a few years ago. I like my golden hair, because it's mine, but my mamma had such pretty, silky black curls. I wish I looked more like her. She was so beautiful."

Marigold took some of the bread in her hands and, cocking her head to one side, arranged it carefully in the basket. She seemed well-satisfied with her work, for she smiled and nodded, and then she turned to another basket. "I do so enjoy this work. It's very nice to arrange these breads so they'll look just right. I love to make things pretty. My dear mamma used to have a little garden, and she would spend almost the whole day in it, watering and pruning and weeding. She loved her garden so much. And she would always pay special attention to the marigolds, so she could put them in my hair when we went on picnics. She loved to see marigolds in my hair. But her hair looked even more beautiful than mine when she put lilacs in. Lilacs look so lovely in black hair, don't you think? When I have my own home I hope I have children with black hair so I can put lilacs in them. Of course," she added, with a funny little laugh, "it wouldn't work if they were boys."