The Golden Perch Inn

[Folwren]

Dick set down two brimming mugs of ale before two of his guests, smiling his broadest. He turned away from them, wiping his hands on a towel he had picked up on his way. His eyes scanned the people in the common room, making sure everyone had everything they needed. The sweeping gaze stopped on the disappearing figure of a man slinking back through the door into the corridor running into the hill. His smile faded slowly and his eyes narrowed.

Who was that and where did he think he was going? Dick took a few steps forward. In the doorway, Jack turned his head half way over his shoulder to look back. Dick recognized the man in an instant as the one he had served earlier – the rough, tired looking figure. He had sat with Tollers and eaten, more than likely, most of the massive breakfast that young hobbit had brought out. Dick looked quickly about for Tollers, but seeing him now where, decided that he had better go see what the stranger was about.

The innkeeper threaded his way swiftly around the tables and ran the last few paces to the doorway. He stopped just inside for fear of running unexpectedly into the man.

“Hold up, sir!” he called out. “Wait a moment! Where are you going?”

[Tevildo]

Tollers hurried out to the old shed that was attached to the back of the stables, and began dragging a piece of furniture back inside the inn, just as he'd been told to do. There were a number of chairs and tables to be shifted, good sized items that were meant to furnish the rooms rented out to some of the Big Folk.

After just one trip in and out of the inn, he decided he needed a little rest and a break for second breakfast. He immediately plunked down on the ground in front of the Inn, and reached inside his back pocket, taking out a napkin and spreading it on his lap. Reaching into the side pocket of his vest, he took out two fat biscuits, both a bit squashed but still quite edible. As Tollers ate, he hummed a happy tune and glanced intermittently across the road in the direction of the river, calculating the number of hours it would be until he could slip away with Jack to catch some fish.

When he finished the biscuits, he licked his fingers and then leaned back, closed his eyes, and began dreaming about his little boat that was tied up just a short walk down the left riverbank. The sun shone warm onto the hobbit's face and pleasant images of large perch danced magically inside his head. Before long, Tollers was fast asleep, totally quiet except for letting out an occasional snore.

[piosenniel]

‘It’s a long way from the Ford to Breeland. Might I ask what you . . . and your brother, is it . . . are doing on your travels?’ The man's steady grey gaze traveled from Tanni to her brother who was approaching the table.

‘Rhys Hafgen, good sir,’ said the young man, drawing near to where his sister was now sitting. On the small tray the innkeeper had given him he bore a pitcher of ale and a mug . . . for himself. And for Tanni, a small glass of deep, red wine. He topped off the other man’s mug, poured a brimming mugful for himself, and set the wine before his sister. ‘And did my sister manage to introduce herself, yet?’ he went on, seating himself across the table from the man.

‘Tanwen Hafgen,’ she chimed in, nodding at Hithadan. ‘Or Tanni, if you will.’ She took an appreciative sip of her wine, thanking Rhys for getting it for her. ‘Our family owns a large shop, at the Ford. We’re doing our Spring rounds to check in with our suppliers, and to ferret out any new sources of trade goods that we can. This is a busy time of year for us, and we thought by coming here to Stock, we might make a number of fortunate acquaintances . . . it being the big trade fair in these parts, or so we heard.’ Tanni settled her back comfortable against her chair and perused the man. ‘What about you, Master Hithadan . . . are you in the trade, too? Shall we count you as a . . . friendly rival?’ She gave him a disarming smile and sipped a little more of her wine.

Rhys flicked his gaze to Hithadan, wondering what the man might say in response.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot stared after the stranger, curiosity written on every line of her face. He was one of the Big Folk, and that, of course made things seem more intruiging for her. She dismissed all thoughts of a simple explanation, and instead she imagined all sort of dark and secret things that the man might be up to.

"I'd say he's up to no good by the looks of him." She said in answer to Rowan's question. "I simply cannot believe that he is going to spend such a day locked up in his room. That is, if he has a room here."

Meliot was not one of those hobbits that distrusted the Big Folk and suspected all of them of having certain dark intentions in their minds. On the contrary, she was quite fond of them. But still she was inclined not to trust anyone that did things in a way that she found strange. For example, anyone that had in mind to spend such a glorious day locked op in a room, could not possibly be up to anything good.

"There'll come trouble from that fellow, mark my words." she told Rowan. "But who is he, anyway? Do you know him? Where does he come from?"

[Envinyatar]

‘Hold up, sir!’ the innkeeper called out. “Wait a moment! Where are you going?’

Jack froze in his tracks. An advisable thing to do, since in the confines of the Inn and the corridor, there was no hope of his usual mad dash of an escape. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, a shaky attempt at best to calm his nerves.

Now hold on, Jack-boy! he thought to himself. You’ve done nothing wrong. Just turn about and explain to the man what you’re doing.

‘I was just going to lie down for a bit, sir,’ Jack said, turning to face the innkeeper. ‘Tollers lent me the use of his room while he’s working. Said I might catch a few winks. Before we go fishing later.’ He put on as earnest a face as he could assemble for the moment. ‘He said the fishin’s good roundabout here. And we might be able to come back with enough for a tasty fry-up for us all for the evening.’

Jack stood stock-still waiting for the innkeeper’s judgment on this statement. It was the honest truth of the matter. But Jack was wary nonetheless – he’d been questioned enough before to know that the best words can’t overcome perception.

[Undómë]

‘That Tollers!’ Rowan hmmmmph’d ‘Fishing! And how did I just know that would be at the bottom of this with him concerned.’ She snorted, a rather unattractive expression. ‘Sometimes I think the fish he’s after have more brains than he does. I mean, really! Look at that fellow!’ She flicked her eyes toward Jack. ‘To my mind he’s the sort as would rob you blind while he talks smooth and smiles at you.’ She hmmmph’d again.

Rowan turned her gaze to Seredic. She tried to read the look on the innkeeper’s face as he listened to Jack’s explanation.