Margaretta emerged from the back room with a fresh pot of tea, the rest of
the blueberry tarts Master Gimli had expressed such fondness for, and a
large sugar-topped cake. The dwarf was reaching for the tarts almost
before the shopkeeper had the tray settled on the low table. He took five,
but only handed one to Master Legolas.
"Gimli!" the elf exclaimed. "You are stuffing yourself like a hobbit! You will surely eat Mistress Stronginthearm out of house and home if you continue on this way." It sounded like a scold, though Margaretta could not tell if he was serious or not. She opened her mouth to reassure them she had plenty, but Master Gimli spoke first.
"Hobbits are not the only people who enjoy good food, Master Elf. Perhaps if you ate as a body is supposed to, you elves would not be so wretchedly skinny," he teased.
"I would not like to be as stout as a dwarf, good Gimli. If I were, tree branches would break underneath me, and that would not do," Master Legolas retorted. From the expression on Master Gimli's face, Margaretta suspected the elf referred to an incident from their adventuring.
Master Gimli's next words confirmed the shopwoman's hunch. "Bah! No self- respecting dwarf would allow himself to be talked into prancing about in trees anyway. Unfortunately, I am no self-respecting dwarf, as proven by what I put up with from you, Legolas."
The elf suddenly took on a very serious expression. "Gimli, you are the most respected dwarf I have ever known," he said softly.
The dwarf was not about to let his friend become sentimental, however. "You say that because you do not know enough for comparison," he laughed.
"He says it because it is true, Master Dwarf," Margaretta interrupted. "And I DO have basis for comparison. I spent much time with the dwarfs during the Siege of Erebor, after the Battle of Dale. I have a very high opinion of dwarves in general, and you, sir, are widely regarded as the best of them. And from what little I have seen here today, with very good cause."
The dwarf blushed bright red. "Enough of this," he said, swallowing a mouthful of tart. "You were saying there is more to your story, Mistress?"
"Indeed there is, Master Dwarf, but I am not certain I will be able to tell it," the shopkeeper said.
Master Gimli and Master Legolas stared at her with identical disbelieving expressions. "Why not?" the dwarf demanded.
"I may have to bake more tarts," Margaretta teased, smiling to take the sting out of her words. She was a little astonished with herself, teasing heroes this way, but it felt right. This pair had a way of making Margaretta feel very comfortable around them. They had to, to get her talking about her so-called "glory days", which the shopkeeper considered a long, long way from glorious.
A splutter and a cough interrupted Margaretta's musings. Master Legolas was choking on his tea in the effort not to laugh at poor Master Gimli, who in turn was laughing while he pounded his elf on the back.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the shopwoman exclaimed, getting up and going to assist. "I should not jest like that. Please accept my apologies."
"No * cough* apology * splutter* necessary, * gasp* I assure you," the elf said as he caught his breath. "Far too many people treat us with deference and awe. 'Tis good to be spoken to as WHO we are, rather than WHAT we are."
"Yes, by all means, jest away, Mistress Stronginthearm," Master Gimli agreed. "But I insist Legolas take his turn as the target for your wit."
Margaretta nodded. "That is fair. Though if I am to be friend enough to tease you, you cannot keep calling me 'Mistress Stronginthearm'. My given name is Margaretta. Please, use it freely."
Elf and dwarf broke into matching pleased grins. "If that is the case, Mist..Margaretta, then you must also call us by our names. No more "Master Elf" or "Master Dwarf". I am Gimli, and he is Legolas. Now please, continue your story. I will try to remember to share the tarts, if you do," Gimli said.
Margaretta laughed. She refilled their teacups and prepared to go on with her tale.
"Gimli!" the elf exclaimed. "You are stuffing yourself like a hobbit! You will surely eat Mistress Stronginthearm out of house and home if you continue on this way." It sounded like a scold, though Margaretta could not tell if he was serious or not. She opened her mouth to reassure them she had plenty, but Master Gimli spoke first.
"Hobbits are not the only people who enjoy good food, Master Elf. Perhaps if you ate as a body is supposed to, you elves would not be so wretchedly skinny," he teased.
"I would not like to be as stout as a dwarf, good Gimli. If I were, tree branches would break underneath me, and that would not do," Master Legolas retorted. From the expression on Master Gimli's face, Margaretta suspected the elf referred to an incident from their adventuring.
Master Gimli's next words confirmed the shopwoman's hunch. "Bah! No self- respecting dwarf would allow himself to be talked into prancing about in trees anyway. Unfortunately, I am no self-respecting dwarf, as proven by what I put up with from you, Legolas."
The elf suddenly took on a very serious expression. "Gimli, you are the most respected dwarf I have ever known," he said softly.
The dwarf was not about to let his friend become sentimental, however. "You say that because you do not know enough for comparison," he laughed.
"He says it because it is true, Master Dwarf," Margaretta interrupted. "And I DO have basis for comparison. I spent much time with the dwarfs during the Siege of Erebor, after the Battle of Dale. I have a very high opinion of dwarves in general, and you, sir, are widely regarded as the best of them. And from what little I have seen here today, with very good cause."
The dwarf blushed bright red. "Enough of this," he said, swallowing a mouthful of tart. "You were saying there is more to your story, Mistress?"
"Indeed there is, Master Dwarf, but I am not certain I will be able to tell it," the shopkeeper said.
Master Gimli and Master Legolas stared at her with identical disbelieving expressions. "Why not?" the dwarf demanded.
"I may have to bake more tarts," Margaretta teased, smiling to take the sting out of her words. She was a little astonished with herself, teasing heroes this way, but it felt right. This pair had a way of making Margaretta feel very comfortable around them. They had to, to get her talking about her so-called "glory days", which the shopkeeper considered a long, long way from glorious.
A splutter and a cough interrupted Margaretta's musings. Master Legolas was choking on his tea in the effort not to laugh at poor Master Gimli, who in turn was laughing while he pounded his elf on the back.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the shopwoman exclaimed, getting up and going to assist. "I should not jest like that. Please accept my apologies."
"No * cough* apology * splutter* necessary, * gasp* I assure you," the elf said as he caught his breath. "Far too many people treat us with deference and awe. 'Tis good to be spoken to as WHO we are, rather than WHAT we are."
"Yes, by all means, jest away, Mistress Stronginthearm," Master Gimli agreed. "But I insist Legolas take his turn as the target for your wit."
Margaretta nodded. "That is fair. Though if I am to be friend enough to tease you, you cannot keep calling me 'Mistress Stronginthearm'. My given name is Margaretta. Please, use it freely."
Elf and dwarf broke into matching pleased grins. "If that is the case, Mist..Margaretta, then you must also call us by our names. No more "Master Elf" or "Master Dwarf". I am Gimli, and he is Legolas. Now please, continue your story. I will try to remember to share the tarts, if you do," Gimli said.
Margaretta laughed. She refilled their teacups and prepared to go on with her tale.