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Anyopâ padded his way across the wooden floor. He yawned his thanks to Benat and gratefully accepted the mug of hot tea the server brought round.
‘And I suppose you’ll be wanting the same as Master Benat here,’ she said, ticking off the items the big man had ordered. ‘And Master Cullen, too,’ she laughed as the dog mad a friendly growl from beneath the table.
‘Ah! I would burst at the seams were I to attempt that,’ Anyopâ said grinning at the server. ‘Something more my size,’ he continued. ‘A plate of toast with your good Shire berry jam and a helping of eggs.’
The server clucked at the both of them. ‘Master Harfoot will be quite put off to hear that you have shunned his sugar cured bacon. No accounting for the Big Folks’ taste he’ll say.’ Anyopâ relented at this chiding, saying he would be happy to have a rasher of the crisp offering, but Benat was firm in his order.
‘Pardon my asking,’ said Anyopâ once the server had gone, ‘but do you not eat meats?’ He had noticed last night that the big man had avoided ordering any. ‘And please, if I am prying, just tell me so.’ He picked up his mug, clasping it with both hands, enjoying the warmth that seeped from the sides against his chilly fingers.
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