And yet, as it turned out, I need not have worried. The Man called Stark was sent away with messages the next morning, and the Man called Archer was going hunting in search of meat to replenish the Rangers’ diminishing supplies. And it appeared that they were also awaiting the arrival of others.

I still had a lingering headache, and was not yet allowed to leave my bed, “to be on the safe side”, Longshanks said. Truth be told, I was weary and sore and bruised and weak from my days of captivity, so I found that it was not at all unpleasant to spend the day tucked under the blankets in the oversized cot.

I found Longshanks to be a pleasant, if taciturn companion. He did seem to know something of hobbits, for he fed me at appropriate intervals, but the fare was very plain and dull. Plain unsweetened porridge for both breakfasts, a bit of rather stale bread and some very nice blackberries for elevenses, and some more of the salty broth for luncheon. Still it was more and better food than I had been allowed in my time among the outlaws, and I was grateful.

At any rate, he did not seem to talk much. He busied himself with small tasks in the little hut, sitting tailor fashion upon the floor by the hearth, singing to himself quietly in a pleasant, if somewhat deep and rumbly, voice as he sharpened a sword and a dagger, and then began to check the arrows in a quiver, setting some aside to be re-fletched or otherwise mended.

I drifted in and out of sleep, sound sleep with no dreams, a sleep such as I had not had since leaving the Shire.

When I wakened again, it was late afternoon--perhaps near teatime. I did not see Longshanks anywhere, but the door to the hut stood open to the sunshine, and I could hear voices just outside. Apparently Archer had returned.

My headache was finally gone, though my head itched abominably where the stitches had gone in. I sat up and looked about. At the foot of the cot my clothes were folded, clean and dry. I crawled along the bed to my clothes and put them on, pleased to discover that they had not only been washed but mended. Then I slid carefully to the floor. It was rather a long way down. Then I headed outside to see what was going on.

The two Men were engaged in the business of butchering a deer--apparently Archer had the luck to bring home venison. I walked over, and they looked up in surprise.

“What are you doing out of bed, Master Hildifons?” asked Longshanks, rather sternly.

“I am feeling much better! I see that we shall dine well this evening!”

Longshanks wiped his hands on a cloth and crooked a finger at me, and I went closer. He looked at me carefully, and then reached for me. I am afraid I flinched again. “I am sorry,” I said, and meant it. But I did fear it would be a while before I could do otherwise when a Man approached me.

He sighed. “I would like to examine your injury.”

I allowed him to take my chin in his hands, and he looked at my head, and nodded, and then gazed into my eyes. “Your eyes are clear, and you appear to be healing rapidly, then. That is good.”

“I am feeling a great deal better than I have for several days!” I looked down at the deer, for Archer had not ceased his own dismembering of the meat. “I see you hunted well, Master Archer.”

The other Man smiled, and it transformed his rather dour countenance. “I am looking forward to real meat, even if we do scorch it.”

I blinked. I had envisioned a nice juicy haunch, an even rich golden brown on the outside and dripping with fat, and on the inside pink and tender and flavourful. But it did not sound like what we should have if the Men cooked. I stared at the haunch again, and then made up my mind.

“Perhaps you would allow me to cook it for you? It’s a way I can show my gratitude for all you have done for me!”

The two Men looked at one another in surprise, and then Archer said, “Are you sure you are up to it? Do you have much experience cooking?”

Longshanks laughed. “He is a hobbit! You’ve met enough of them in Bree to know their reputations as cooks!” He glanced at me, and said “I think we will be glad to accept your offer. I am afraid we’ve not much to go with it. There is a bit of wild thyme growing near the doorstep, and a small box of salt in the cooking box by the hearth.” He arched his brow again, and I realized he was setting me a small challenge.

I looked about at the clearing and the nearby woods. “Will it be safe for me to forage a little?”

He bit his lip and glanced around. “There should not be much danger as long as you stay within sight of the waystation, and within shouting distance.”

I nodded. “Very well.”

I went back into the hut to check. Yes, there next to the hearth was a covered box. I opened it to find what they might have on hand. There was about half a sack of barley flour, and another somewhat larger bag of oats. I also found the small box of salt, and a stoppered jar which turned out to contain honey on the comb. Longshanks had not mentioned that, and I wondered if he had forgotten about it, or if it was to be saved for special purposes.

There were the pots and pans and cooking tools: an iron pot with a lid, good for roasts and stews, a tripod, a cast iron spider, a clay pot with a lid, pot-hooks, a flat shovel, a long fork, a wooden platter and a large wooden bowl. I blinked at the size of them--but thought I could manage to handle them. After all, I had used the tools in our kitchen at home as a small child, handling the utensils meant for the adults. There was also a sharply honed paring knife and a boning knife as well, wrapped in cloth. They did not look well used-- I had noticed the two Men had been using daggers to butcher the deer. They probably seldom bothered with cooking knives.

Pleased with my inventory, I took up an empty basket that had been atop the covered box, and headed back outside, where the two Men were still at their task. I chose the haunch I wished to use, and they put it aside for me; and since I had found no butter, oil or even lard, I asked them to cut some belly fat out for me as well.

Then I slowly made my way to the edge of the clearing to the west, keeping my eyes out for anything useful. I found wild carrots and wild onion and wild garlic, as well as a plenitude of dandelions and sorrel-- not so tender as spring greens, so they would not make a good salad-- but still I could cook up a mess. Perhaps I could make some greens and porridge to accompany the meat.

I found some bilberry bushes, loaded with fruit, and then made my way into the shady eaves of the woods, careful to check that I could still see the hut. I was hoping for mushrooms, and was not disappointed, for I found Summer Boletes, Bronzy Boletes, Penny Buns, and Chicken of the Woods. Only a few of each, but enough to make a nice meal!

As I foraged, I recalled the camping trips my father and my uncles had taken us on as lads. My father firmly believed every hobbit, no matter what his station, should know how to forage and how to cook. He saw to it that his sons and nephews all had that knowledge.

My mother had taken care of my sisters’ cooking lessons, sometimes teaching them herself, at other times assigning them to help the cooks. I remembered Belladonna’s scornfulness at the discovery that the only thing Gardenia know how to make was tea and little sandwiches cut into fancy shapes and little sugared biscuits. Gardenia thought that other sorts of cooking were beneath her.

I realized now that I should have been warned by that; at the time, I thought my sister was exaggerating. I also thought it merely amusing and endearing that Gardenia was not a good cook.

My mushroom hunt was rewarded by a find of Saffron Milk Caps. A glance back showed me I had ventured as far as I could, and I would need time to cook, so I returned. Longshanks and Archer were cleaning themselves up after their task. The meat and fat I had requested had been put aside for me.

Noting that there was a pail of water in which they were washing, I asked about water.

“There’s a stream south of the waystation, about half a furlong,” said Archer. “I will fetch you some, for I do not think you could carry our pails, Master Hildifons.”

I nodded my thanks, and turned to Longshanks. “I noticed that there was some honey in the cooking box. May I use it?”

Longshanks nodded, but added “Do not use much of it. It Is sometimes needed for healing.”

I thanked him, and taking the meat that had been set aside for me, I went inside to begin my preparations.

First I stirred up the banked fire, to get some hot embers going. When Archer came in with the water, I was really able get to work. I heated an iron spider in order to render some of the fat, and used the oats to start some porridge in a clay pot with a lid at the hearth. Soon I had the roast in its iron cooking pot searing in some of the fat. I would later put the lid on it and cover it in embers to finish roasting,. I would add the wild carrots to the roast later. I thought I’d add the greens to the porridge for a nice side dish, as they were not tender enough for a salad. It was a shame I had no cheese or butter to add. A few barley bannocks, and the mushrooms fried up in the spider would go well--and for afters, I could use a touch of the honey and some oats to make a crumble with the bilberries.

It had been a while since I had done any cooking, so I paid close mind to it-- I wanted the Men to enjoy their meal. They had, after all, saved my life.

I had made good progress when Longshanks and Archer came inside. They had hung the rest of the meat in the small lean-to which served as a smoke-house.

“Master Hildifons” said Longshanks, “this all smells wonderful!”

“Indeed, we never eat so well when we are away from home,” added Archer.

“This is not your home, then?” I asked.

“No, this is merely a waystation, where we can make our base when we are patrolling the area for such villains as attacked you.”

Longshanks sat down on the floor near the hearth, while Archer sat on one of the two large beds that made up the hut’s only furniture, aside from the cooking chest.

Archer was glad enough to talk to me about his wife and children, who dwelt in a small settlement a good many day’s journey to the south and east, while Longshanks remained silent, as seemed to be his wont.

However, the conversation soon died out as the meal needed tending. Soon the three of us were dining well. To my mind, the meal could have used a few more vegetables, and I am sure the mushrooms would have been better cooked in butter than in rendered fat, but I had done the best I could with the ingredients to hand, and felt rather pleased with myself. The Men seems happy enough with the food, eating nearly as much as I.

We ate until we were sated, and though there was a little meat left, nothing else remained. Archer offered to do the washing up, and as I was tired, I did not argue with him. I returned to my bed, and drifted off to the sounds of the Men’s quiet conversation.

The next morning, after I had prepared a breakfast of griddle cakes and leftover venison, Stark returned with some mysterious messages, I did not know what they were, though I was curious, but Longshanks seemed pleased by the news.

Over the next few days, I made myself of help to my rescuers, cooking for them, tidying up the waystation, and foraging to supplement the cookpot.

I gradually came to learn more of Archer and Stark, though I learned very little of Longshanks, save that he recounted some of his acquaintance with Gandalf. And I was quite pleased not to hear any more of being sent away.
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A/N: Much of the information about Hildifons’ cooking skills came from The Magic of Fire by William Rubel, wonderful book about hearthside cooking. And the information on the foraging of mushrooms came from "http://www.gigaflop.demon.co.uk/mushcook/tables.htm", a most useful site.