The Golden Perch Inn

[piosenniel]

‘Turn in here!’ Tanwen said, gesturing to the wide dirt track that led from the Causeway to the inn. ‘I’m sure it’s The Golden Perch. It must be.’ She leaned further forward on her seat, looking out past her brother. ‘I’m sure that’s Stock Road; that bigger one that ties into the one we’re on.’ She squinted her eyes at the sign she saw hanging from the post nearer the building. ‘Looks like a fish! I think we’ve found it.’

They’d been traveling about in the southern part of the Shire these past several weeks. Talking to farmers about their crops, pipeweed in particular – it being a very desirable commodity. But herbs, too, were on their list of things to be on the lookout for, as well as honey and good Shire oats and wool. Their last stop had been at Bamfurlong Farm in the Marish. A stop at a small public house just north of Deephallow had piqued their interest in the tangy pickled mushrooms that had been served with the pan-fried coney. ‘Come from Bamfurlong, just up north a ways, the Maggot farm, been in the same family for years. Mushrooms a plenty grow on their land.’ Rhys and Tanni had arranged for several straw-filled baskets packed with small crocks of the condiment be sent down to the Ford.

Rhys clucked his tongue at Nia and Olwen, urging the mares off the dirt track and toward the stable. ‘Anyone here?’’ he called out, drawing up in front of the open doorway. He set the brake on the cart and got down to find the stableman.