Still in his nightclothes, Cutch wound his way down the stairs from their bedchamber and padded on bare feet across the entrance gallery, then into the main hall and the kitchen nicely built into its far corner. After a long stretch and yawn, he happily began the morning ritual of preparing breakfast for him and his wife, Seregrian, who was several months along in carrying their first child. He had endeavored to discern by intuition what his lovely bride might want for breakfast, letting Her presence and behavior the night before steer the course. This morning it would be something different, and hopefully in tune with Her varying appetites. He wondered how much influence the precious child was having on that.
He filled the hall with the scent of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee and retrieved a blackberry pie, baked just yesterday, from a pie safe. As he was slicing it, Her voice came to him from the salon.
“You are just NOW getting up?”, she chided playfully.
He smiled at Her lovingly, saying, ‘Well, I guess I didn’t have to worry about waking you after all...’
“No”, She answered, “Our little one was very active last night.” Her hands went to Her tummy, where they would smooth across it as if to caress the baby girl within. Seregrian’s eyes, however, were fixed on his breakfast preparations with an intensity revealing that She was both famished and approving of the morning’s menu.
“Sit where you will, mell bereth, and I will bring it to you” he said, loading a tray. As she sat a bit heavily on a salon couch next to the fire, Royzenberry bounced into the room and straight to the other salon couch facing Seregrian across a low table. “Blueberry muffins?”, she coyly asked. Cutch nodded politely and after laying out the contents of the tray, returned to the kitchen; he had anticipated the hobbit arrival and her preferred morning fare. While loading and carrying the tray again, he listened to the two speak of Her stubbed toes and bookcases that should be moved, mysterious daggers found in the library, the challenges of trying to tame kingsfoil for plot or pot, and Berry’s growing affection for Lance, another hobbit folded into the House’s company of friends-more-like-family. The mornings moments were stringing together like cherished pearls.
“So, dear one, Lance tells me he is in desperate need of stocks for his pantry”, Seregrian announced as Cutch delivered the tray of muffins from which Berry immediately grabbed one, hungrily grinning. “Apparently, he can get much of his needs from vendors, but the exotic grains, like black barley, are beyond him.” Cutch topped everyone’s coffee before sitting cross-legged on the rug near his wife and fixing a plate for himself.
“I think we have quite of bit of that in the granary still, melon nin. I will see some shipped to him right away.” As he began to eat, Berry revealed that she had visited Lance’s home, where he had told her of the House rescuing Cutch the year before. Chuckling at that, he muttered, “Much joy has occurred since THAT adventure concluded…”
“I cannot help but wonder, that Lance doesn't take it more personal that he was fooled by your plan”, Seregrian mused as she sipped Her coffee.
“He understood it was my attempt to keep you safe, and the House. He loves you too, mell bereth.”
“I know... he has all but told me those words...”.
The three enjoyed the meal and each other’s company until Berry announced she had errantry pressing her for action, and with hugs and warm words exchanged, the hearty hobbit ventured out into her day. It was then that Seregrian made an announcement that Cutch would never forget.
“Dear, one” She breathed as one hand lay across their unborn daughter, “there are times I am sure I can HEAR her…”.
Cutch froze, a forkful of pie before his gaping mouth, a long moment passing before he sat it back down on the plate.
“What does she say?!”
“One word…’melethel’.
Cutch well knew the Sindarin word for ‘sweetheart’, for it was as often as not the way She addressed him.
“She must hear it countless times a day”, She softly said with a warm smile. “Come, lay your head against her, and tell me what you perceive”. Cutch slid across the rug to kneel before Her inviting lap and did as She bid.
“Good morning, little one”, he murmured. He felt the flutter of movement and … something else.
“There!”, his Wife whispered. “Again, ‘melethel’! Did you hear it?”
Cutch nodded, sure that he did. He turned his face up to Her. “I love you, Seregrian.”
With a hand tenderly caressing his cheek, She warmly murmured, “As I do you, Cutch.”
Resting his head against Her again, his ear over the unborn child, he sincerely offered. “And I love you, Bainiel.”
Mother and father both drew in an excited gasp as, once more, Bainiel responded.
“She already knows us, melethel. She is indeed intelligent.”
Cutch smiled at his wife’s scholarly tone. “Well, look to her Mother for that…”, he quipped with a smirk.
Sergerian grew solemnly quiet, and again Cutch looked up at Her. “What is it, mell bereth?”
“Let us hope she does not have my temper…” She mused with worry.
