[Noinkling]

Benat’s eyes gleamed as Derufin approached, the tray of food balanced on his hands and one shoulder. Cullen stood, too, his nose sniffing the air appreciatively. Rumbly sounds came from one or the other’s stomach, or perhaps both.

Derufin passed out the bowls of stew, telling Benat that Cook had made his without meat. ‘Bless her!’ cried the man, his nose taking in the savory aroma. ‘She is a sure treasure you’ve got here, Master Derufin. A kind heart for all her gruff at times exterior.’ Cullen echoed the sentiment with an anticipatory Woof! as his bowl was placed on the floor.

Taking the bottle of Dwarven spirits, Benat eased the cork from it and poured each of them a small tot of it in the little silvered glasses Cook had sent with it. He held his up with a grin on his face, saying, ‘Here’s to the Shire and here’s to The Green Dragon! Long may they prosper!’