[Envinyatar]

It was early morning of the party day, and Derufin pushed open the door to the kitchen. It was a sizable room, with a large cook stove that boasted two ovens. A somewhat adept cook, at least in the arts of rough camp cooking, he had volunteered to prepare some of the food for the meal. He poked through the cupboards, and nosed about the pantry shelves, seeing what might be available to him.

Out from the larder came butter, whole wheat flour, and fine corn meal. Onions, potatoes, and crisp carrots he found in the cool root cellar, along with a basket of fresh peas, covered with dampened moss to keep them fresh. He hummed to himself as he poked about. Ah! There was the spice drawer near the warm, dry area of the stove and above the short cupboard it was in, hung savory dried herbs of all sorts.

When he had come to the end of his scouting for ingredients, he stepped back, surveying the offerings he had put out on the counters. ‘Hmmm. There are Hobbits coming tonight. Hungry Hobbits, expecting good food and plenty of it. We’re missing a main course, and we’re missing the one food they favor above all others – mushrooms.’

Lumiel was busy frosting and decorating the cake, and he asked her if she would keep watch on the ingredients he had laid out. He was going out for a few hours he said, and then would be back in plenty of time to make the other foods.

He motioned to the man, Aelfwine, who stood out of the way of the busy preparations, eating a slice of bread spread thick with jam. ‘You want to come along? I’m bound for the fishmonger’s stall, to have him put by some fresh, fat eels and salmon for us, and then to the woods for some big, tasty mushrooms to fry up in cornmeal.

On his way across the yard, Derufin spied the young boy he had seen Mistress Piosenniel carrying in her arms to her room. He was walking slowly toward the stable, very slowly, scuffing the toes of his shoes as he went along. It was easy to see he was not bound toward something he looked forward to in the least.

‘Nárello, is it not.’ he said coming alongside the boy. ‘Do you think the horses would miss your company today if you helped me scout out some mushrooms for the party, tonight.’ The boy had stopped, though he did not raise his eyes to meet the man’s. ‘I, for one, am feeling a little hemmed in by all the female attention to detail, and wish to escape dustball patrol or dueling with spiderwebs. A few hours spent wandering in the woods looking for a prime patch of the Hobbit delicacy will give them enough time to get the Inn in shape to their liking, and take their attention off what they can find for us to do.’

He went to the shed near the Inn’s small garden and peeked his head in. ‘There they are!’ he cried, seizing his target and pulling it forth into the light. A number of large baskets with sturdy handles for carrying were brought out and placed on the ground. Derufin closed the door of the shed securely and picked up two of the larger baskets.

‘This way!’ he said, striding quickly down the lane that lead from the Inn’s courtyard . . .