[Mänwe]

Limaris inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at the broadening smile that broke the features of the Inn Keeper, it appeared that his response had not seemed flustered and rushed, and the tone he had set was correct. Although the smile was slightly worrying in that it may actually have been a smile of inward amusement at the oddness of his speech. He would be hard pressed to maintain the rather jovial character he had unwittingly created.

However on further reflection it may have given him an advantage, his jocular response he hoped would present him as a fellow who was easy to confide in; consequently more likely to glean the information that he needed to complete his mission successfully.

His mind continued to muse over the character that he would play, when he felt a slight numbing feeling in his right arm which he was using to support himself against the bar. Wincing slightly as he stepped back and straightened it he noticed that he had been bent almost double to accommodate his height at the bar, and the Hobbit seemed to shrink even further as he bent down behind the counter presumably to pick a tankard.

It occurred to him that he had probably presented himself a rather comical figure bent right over on the bar, perhaps another reason for the broad smile on the features of the Hobbit before he had dipped below the counter. The beginning of his day was not entirely going to plan; it was a miracle that the Inn Keeper had not stared at him blankly and in bemusement at his strange dialogue.

Pausing he breathed deeply, he was worrying unduly. Calming himself he flexed his arm returning the circulation to his finger tips, and studied the supreme efforts of the Hobbit as he attended to the drawing of his pint. Face screwed in concentration, tongue working his upper lip as he watched the golden rich ale fall into the maw of the tankard.

It was now Limaris’s turn to be amused, and he managed to hide his smile by turning it into a grimace as he flexed his arm causing a warm and stinging sensation. Had the Hobbit not poured many pints? Or was this face on of pure pride and professionalism? Well it was a perfect avenue for continual conversation with the Inn Keeper, who was in his mind the best person to talk to over matters concerning the village of Stock.

For the Golden Perch was a busy place and many a traveller would pass through, and he would have either seen, heard or dealt with all of them. The Hobbit carefully lifted the tankard onto the counter, the foam head of the ale shifting slightly on its liquid bed.

“There you are!” he exclaimed.

Clearly proud at not having spilt a drop, and thus answering his question, pure pride and professionalism.

His hand dipped quickly into his money pouch and deposited the single coin on the counter returning his pouch quickly to the inner folds of his clothing, and gripping the tankard firmly with his free hand. The look on the Keeper’s face told Limaris that he was about to ask a question, so having bent over again at the counter, arranging himself in a less comical and awkward fashion he paused.

His heart raced a little as the Hobbit inquired whether he had been in the Shire before and again his young mind raced with the possibilities of asking such a question. Perhaps his tone had sounded too “shire-like” revealing an extended period of time staying in and around Shire-folk.

Perhaps a patron arriving earlier to the Inn had spotted him on his way in and mentioned it as idle gossip. Dispelling the answers with decisions, he was a traveller of forty years, his ‘occupation’ fitted with his earlier dialogue with the Inn keeper, and he just hoped that he looked older than he actually was, the words he had used were more likely to be used by an older person than the youth of today.

However before he was about to give his reply a large clatter resounded through the room and cut some of the conversation in the Inn immediately as if they had been suddenly made mute, only the darkest and furthest recesses of the Inn Common Room remained in conversation, either having not noticed or not caring. Limaris made a quick observation that it was mainly inhabited by men, less likely to be startled so obviously than the Hobbits who seemed to have flocculate in the middle of the Inn.

It was a Dwarf whom looked extremely worn apart from a shining mail coat. The site of the mail made him raise an eyebrow, it was mithril, obvious for its gleaming appearance no torn rents which were filled with new rings and were consequently not as dark and worn looking as the others around it. And because the Dwarf did not seem restricted at all as he strode across the room, predictably making his way to the rear of the Inn.

Shouting his order to the entire Inn he settled at a table in a loud thud. The frown on the Hobbits face opposite him revealed that he was slightly annoyed at such an entrance, perhaps more to do with the fact that he was entirely clad in armour and hefting a sizeable weapon. Then again Limaris did not blame him, and Inn was a place of peace. It would probably help his standing and the makeup of his character if he too appeared to be disconcerted by the new comer.

Limaris could tell that the interaction with the Shire folk with the character he had landed himself with would test him still he silently thought it would certainly be interesting and no less exciting. However he readied himself to reply as the Inn Keeper having delegated the serving of the Dwarves order to a rather unfortunate Hobbit by the name of Tollers finished his intended question.

Considering he was playing a traveller, it was probably wise to say that he had heard of the Shire, but had travelled more extensively in the eastern regions of the world and had not ventured far into the west, and so was his reason for being here today; he was on a trip of enlightenment.

“No good sir, I have not had the fortune of visiting the Shire before, it seems all these years I have been missing out on a wonderful part of the world. However it is not the first time I have met your fine folk. Indeed I met a small group of Hobbits in Bree.”

Not wanting to reveal too much of his story immediately he stopped to take a draught of his ale, slamming the tankard down he continued before the Hobbit could respond but not too fast as to suggest that he was preventing him from speaking.

“Ah, now that was worth the long route I took! And even more worth it seeing customers of all sorts you get here! A rather ‘queer’ entrance from that dwarf.” He added lowering his voice.

He had leaned in toward the Hobbit and grinned; still aware that his appearance may not suggest a weary traveller at all, although in his favour was the rather ragged appearance of his beard, a consequence of being in the field for an extended period. Taking another swig from his ale, he looked intently at the Hobbit and continued, his response coming fluidly and in succession, a perfect and plausible show of an interested and overtly talkative traveller, at least Limaris though travellers were very talkative.

“But heights above, I’ve not introduced myself, please attribute my temporary lack of manners to the dust road! I am Tehol. I would be most gratified to know your name sir and the history of this fine establishment if you would take the time to tell all, I have been to a fair few Inn’s but none as homely as The Golden Perch.

A fine name for sure!”

He exclaimed finally.