Cook's Burden

It always fell to him, and – truly – he wouldn’t complain. It was nice to know your place in things; have a little spot to make your own. Only these days there was so little to make of anything – leathery meat, shrunken tubers – hardly enough to keep body and soul together, ‘specially when that soul was as heavy as Mr. Frodo’s. What he wouldn’t give for a little somethin’ – a somethin’ with long ears and a short tail, maybe – and a little somethin' green.

Then he put his foot in it, right and sure - dandelion greens … and wild onions!




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