I had the chance recently to meet up with Nutkin and we settled down at the Inn in Michel Delving for a leisurely lunch. I have to say I had been looking forward to this since I heard the stories that he allowed Dander to die in a raid because he was eating a pie at the time.
Well, he certainly had an appetite! I’ve never seen so much food tucked away so fast, and I’m no slouch. In fact, I’d swear that some of it was ending up in his many copious pockets for later snacking purposes. Finally he burped prodigiously and sat back in his chair. Now was my chance to ask him about the pie incident.
He seemed quite indignant as he said “That wasn’t me, that was some low-life Ale Assciation member what done it. Anyway, you can’t prove nuffink”
Hmm, I got the impression that he would deny the sun rose in the east if asked; his natural reaction to anything was to deny it automatically. So, I pressed him and he said “What’s the problem anyway? Tanks are two a penny but a good pie doesn’t come along every day”.
He then became quite aggressive demanding “Give me money or give me a pie”. I thought he might be joking but played along and offered him a special pie. “Hang on, Nutkin, you already have your hands full with pie, what would you do with another one”? “No problem” he said “I’ll find room. Not that I’m bothered, you understand, I’m not obsessed or anything with pies. But it would be rude to refuse”.
So, I gave him my pie and we bid a fond farewell. As he walked away, I heard him singing softly. It sounded like
Three Pies for the Elven Kings, cooked on the quiet,
Seven for the Dwarf Lords, baked in hearths of stone.
Nine Pies for mortal Men, doomed to diet,
One Pie for the Hobbit Lord, too fat for his throne.
One Pie to feed them all, One Pie to dine them.
One Pie to make a meal, Or taters and Pie, combine them!
That didn’t sound right! It certainly sounded like someone obsessed by pies though.
Then I realised; he had left and the bill hadn’t been settled. He’d stiifed me!
Oh well, a lesson learned there. So I went in to pay (and you might be ahead of me here) only to discover that my purse-strings had been neatly sliced and my purse gone. The lowdown, little thieving so-and-so.