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Fordogrim led Tim to a table and ordered them some food. For some time there was silence as the Hobbit plied himself to the board and for such a little fellow he demonstrated that he lacked none of the legendary appetite of the Little Folk. As he finished his first small loaf the cousins came up from the cellar, puffing and blowing with their labour. With few words – even from Gerdy – they too sat down and put themselves to work. After they had each eaten three platefuls of food they sat back and sighed contentedly. Soon, their pipes were out and the fragrant smoke of Old Toby was drifting toward the rafters. Gerdy turned to Tim and offered him some of the pipeweed. The lad shook his head and politely declined, explaining that he was only a child and that it was not the usual custom for the children of Men to smoke. Gerdy’s eyes went wide with astonishment. “You don’t say? Well, that is to say, you don’t say that you’re a child…not that you don’t say that Men children don’t smoke, as neither do Hobbit lads and lasses either, if you get my meaning.” Tim assured Gerdy that he did, although it took some work. Gerdy smiled and pressed on. “It’s true that a good smoke is as pleasant a thing to have after a morning’s work as is anything – except maybe a bit of luncheon with a pint of ale, that’s good too – but there’s also true that a smoke is not a thing for a child to have. Hobbit or Man. Now why should that be?” His face fell into a philosophical air. “It seems as though to be young is something of a burden, it does. There’s the playing and the easy times, and the free meals and the care and the smaller clothes as you can keep dirtier, but then there’s the things as you can’t be doing: like going out at night by yourself – leastways, not without sneaking – and staying up at dances and parties, and beer, and deciding what to do with your day, and escaping punishment if you break something by accident, and….and….”
“And smoking?” Tim helped him out.
“Ay! And smoking! That’s the very thing!” cried Gerdy, having forgotten utterly his own point.
For his part, Fordogrim was oblivious to the conversation, his own eyes taking their fill of the comely lasses seated across the Common Room from himself. They were sitting with an older woman and through careful observation and delicate listening he was soon able to make out who they were. Violet, the eldest, was aunt to Lilly, the fairer of the two younger lasses…but perhaps not…for Rose was fair as well…he could not make up his mind. “Well,” he said aloud, “when you can’t decide, it’s best as to find out for yourself. Tim me lad!” he said to the boy, “you know that I’m not one to go reminding you of debts as are owed, so I won’t be mentioning the ruckus you caused with my wares and my bar. I only talks about it here so you’ll know as I’m going to ask you a favour and I want you to grant it or not without thinking for a moment about that other matter. You know I’m new to these parts and I’d be interested in making the acquaintance of some of the folk from hereabouts. Perhaps you could go on over to that table with those three ladies and ask if they’d be willing to join us here?”
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