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‘Well, here you go!’ said Ginger, setting her tray down carefully on Artifondo's table. ‘Mushroom barley soup, piping hot from the kettle. A small wedge of cheddar. And here’s a basket of warm bread.’ She gave the Hobbit his tableware, wrapped in a clean napkin, and set down a small crock of butter and one of savory mustard. ‘Now I’ll just top off that mug for you.’
She picked up her tray and was about to leave. ‘Oh,’ she said, turning back for a moment. ‘Cook is busy in the garden at the moment. But as soon as she’s come in, I’ll let her know you’re here.’ Ginger gave him a quick smile and returned to the kitchen.
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. . . for they love peace and quiet and good tilled earth . . . are quick of hearing and sharpeyed, and though they are inclined to be fat and do not hurry unneccesarily, they are nonetheless nimble and deft in their movements . . . FOTR - Prologue
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