The Golden Perch Inn - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Celuien · 06-01-2006, 05:31 PM

"It's biscuits and jam this morning – Primrose how are those coming?" Cela continued speaking, leaving no pause for the assistant cook's reply.

Primrose knew that if Cela needed an answer, she would stop and wait for a response. And so she took the question as a reminder to keep at work and, without attempting to fit a few words on the state of the biscuits between the phrases of Cela's conversation, industriously tended the fire under her pan of biscuits. The scent of sizzling bacon mingled with the aroma of her rapidly browning biscuits, and Primrose suddenly realized that she was quite hungry. She poked at the fire and flames leapt up, reddening her cheeks with their heat. Primrose carefully tucked a few stray curls under her scarf. It wouldn't do for her hair to take flame along with the firewood.

Drawing close to the fire again, Primrose peeked at her biscuits and poked them. The small dimples she made vanished as she withdrew the pressure of her finger. The biscuits were done. She deftly withdrew them from their pan and arranged them on a platter with butter, jam, and honey.

Balancing the platter on one hand, Primrose swept over to the table and deposited her biscuits, hot and golden, in front of the breakfasters. "Biscuits are done," she said brightly. "Is there anything else you need?"

Envinyatar · 06-01-2006, 10:02 PM

The Innkeeper . . . yes it must be him . . . The Halfling stood behind the counter as if he owned it. Now Jack was well enough aware the fellow was taking his measure, despite the fact his face showed no distaste, or favor for that matter. He tugged at the front of his tunic, trying to be a bit more presentable. One bony finger pushed his coin across the smooth wood toward the Innkeeper, his ragged, dirty fingernail tapping plaintively on it.

‘Well, sir,’ he began. ‘The name’s Jack . . . Jack Greymoss. And I have to tell you I’ve been on the road for a fair piece.’ He picked up the coin and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Now this little bit of metal’s all I have. I’d say yes to something to break my fast, but I think I’ll have to choose the ale.’

He pushed the coin toward the Innkeeper once again. ‘Finest in the Eastfarthing, or so I’ve heard . . .’

06-01-2006, 10:02 PM	#2
Envinyatar Quill Revenant Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Wandering through the Downs..... Posts: 849	● Jack Greymoss ● The Innkeeper . . . yes it must be him . . . The Halfling stood behind the counter as if he owned it. Now Jack was well enough aware the fellow was taking his measure, despite the fact his face showed no distaste, or favor for that matter. He tugged at the front of his tunic, trying to be a bit more presentable. One bony finger pushed his coin across the smooth wood toward the Innkeeper, his ragged, dirty fingernail tapping plaintively on it. ‘Well, sir,’ he began. ‘The name’s Jack . . . Jack Greymoss. And I have to tell you I’ve been on the road for a fair piece.’ He picked up the coin and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Now this little bit of metal’s all I have. I’d say yes to something to break my fast, but I think I’ll have to choose the ale.’ He pushed the coin toward the Innkeeper once again. ‘Finest in the Eastfarthing, or so I’ve heard . . .’ Last edited by Envinyatar; 06-09-2006 at 01:18 AM.

Thread Tools
Show Printable Version Email this Page
Display Modes
Switch to Linear Mode Hybrid Mode Switch to Threaded Mode

06-01-2006, 05:31 PM	#1
Celuien Riveting Ribbiter Join Date: May 2005 Location: Assigned to Mordor Posts: 1,767	"It's biscuits and jam this morning – Primrose how are those coming?" Cela continued speaking, leaving no pause for the assistant cook's reply. Primrose knew that if Cela needed an answer, she would stop and wait for a response. And so she took the question as a reminder to keep at work and, without attempting to fit a few words on the state of the biscuits between the phrases of Cela's conversation, industriously tended the fire under her pan of biscuits. The scent of sizzling bacon mingled with the aroma of her rapidly browning biscuits, and Primrose suddenly realized that she was quite hungry. She poked at the fire and flames leapt up, reddening her cheeks with their heat. Primrose carefully tucked a few stray curls under her scarf. It wouldn't do for her hair to take flame along with the firewood. Drawing close to the fire again, Primrose peeked at her biscuits and poked them. The small dimples she made vanished as she withdrew the pressure of her finger. The biscuits were done. She deftly withdrew them from their pan and arranged them on a platter with butter, jam, and honey. Balancing the platter on one hand, Primrose swept over to the table and deposited her biscuits, hot and golden, in front of the breakfasters. "Biscuits are done," she said brightly. "Is there anything else you need?"