Bilbo twinkled and joked with Maddie, who was serving table herself that morning. Gilda had asked her to sit and go over the state of the deep cellars, but Maddie would not take a seat until all the Master’s family had been served and clucked over. Bilbo knew the second he cleaned his plate, Maddie would have it filled again - she could not bear the sight of an empty dish. He watched her and Gilda, dark head and silver, stout health and frail illness, confer over the stores for the coming winter, Maddie matter-of-factly cutting the Mistress’ meat and buttering her toast. Bilbo felt relief that Gilda would accept Maddie’s care. Then again, Maddie might give her no choice. The cook bounced out of her chair when Frodo finally came in, scolding him for being tardy, steering the lad to a chair, tucking a napkin in his collar and placing a full plate (when exactly she had prepared it, Bilbo was not sure) in front of the lad, all within a single moment. Frodo looked a bit surprised to be so quickly seated with fork in hand, but wasted no time in attacking his breakfast.