The Golden Perch Inn

[Iras Sabir]

Ira allowed herself to rest, for once, and smiled. It really had been too long since she had just sat down and relaxed. She thought about her recent travels. She had been down in the Mordor area, exploring and trying to find out about the land there. It seemed posioned and the people near there were not the kindest. She had avoided them each time they were near.

Ira streached and stood up. She wanted to see more of this tiny city. She walked off down the path to continue her exploration.

[Gwathagor]

Gwathagor rose from his corner chair and moved towards the innkeeper's counter, stepping carefully between the tables of the merry folk who were lunching at the inn. At the counter, he hailed Seredic, who he had met earlier that day.

"Master Innkeeper, I beg your pardon for my rather graceless exit during our earlier conversation. The one I heard crying for help it seems was an elf-maid; one Gable. I found her seeking refuge in a tree, surrounded by hungry wolves. I slew her attackers, and Gable is safe. Has she returned to the inn yet?"

Dick responded in the negative.

"Hm. I had meant to ask her to elaborate further concerning a certain silver locket that was found with a certain pony. I...may know something about it. Do you have it near at hand, or do you know where I might find it?"

The elf's face was solemn and dispassionate as usual, but his hands trembled slightly. It was the lingering effect of the vision which he had just experienced, which had not yet faded from his mind. The images still blazed before his eyes, burning his mind with sorrow and cutting his soul like icicles of regret and longing. Part of him wished that the memories had remained where he had carefully buried them during his years of wandering. But now they were free; he knew he could not go back. And this locket: what could it mean? What did it signify? Particularly if it was the same that his fair lady had given him...could it be? If it HAD been found, what other dearly beloved things might also come to light? It had been thousands of years since he had lost that locket, during the fateful war. It had all begun then: the sorrow, the regret, the wandering. The hardening of his soul.

Even as Seredic was responding, Gwathagor drifted off again, slipping back into the past. Leaning on the counter, his head bowed, he tried to steel himself against the mist that swept over him, pulling him down, but he knew he was powerless. He must endure the full gauntlet of these visions, this reawakening, hurt him though it might. The past was dangerous, but wise; who knew where it might lead? And this was only the beginning...

[Groin Redbeard]

He had been walking for quite awhile. The forest that he was walking through was long gone, and gave way to a beautiful hilly meadow. There was not a hobbit in sight.

Groin noticed that storm clouds were rolling in from the south. Even as he stood watching them the winds began to increase and the Sun’s bright rays faded. Groin didn’t like it one bit. He had walked a good distance away from the comforts of the Inn.

He was contemplating on whether to head back or just wait for the storm to pass. A jolt of lightning in the distance made the dissension for him. As fast as his short stubby legs could carry him, he began to run back to the village of Stock and the Golden Perch Inn.

[Folwren]

“Oh, yes, sir,” Dick said to the tall elf. “I’ve got it right...in the kitchen...” his voice trailed off and he tilted his head to look at his customer more straight in the face. “I swear he doesn’t even see me anymore,” Dick muttered to himself. But all the same, he turned and pattered at an admirable pace to the kitchen where he retrieved the locket and brought it back out for Gwathagor’s inspection.

“Now, it’s a very fine piece,” Dick said as he returned. The elf seemed to have come back to the present and his eyes focused on Dick. “I don’t think you’d ruin or anything, but just mind that it’s not. I’d like to be able to give it back to whoever found it, that is all. Our Gable found it, you know.”

Before he could find something more to say, a deafening crack of thunder split through the air. “Good gracious me!” Dick cried, when the rumbling ceased. He ran to the window, leaving the locket in Gwathagor’s hands, and peered out, leaning on the deep window sill. “It looks like we’re going to have some rain,” he observed, taking in the dark, rolling clouds. “Tollers! Tollers!” He turned and trotted to the kitchen, making arrangements the entire way. “We’ll have to light the lamps and candles early, no doubt, what with those storm clouds comin’ in. Tollers! Make up the fire, will you? There’s the door, better go see if it’s a new customer.” And accordingly, Dick turned right around and went back to the common room.

But it was just Groin the dwarf again, come back from wandering about, apparently. As he shut the door behind himself, the rain began to fall in torrents.

[Groin Redbeard]

Groin came panting up to the Golden Perch Inn, just as the rain really began to come down. He pounded on the door in a furry. Looking behind him he saw all the locals scrambling for shelter as the rain began to pour.

He pounded on the door once more, but the door opened before he could finish. It was Toller; Groin entered and nodded thanks. The room was lit by a dozen candles; all the guests were talking amongst themselves, he even saw a couple new faces that weren’t here when he left. He noticed the elf he had seen in the corner booth leaning against the counter grasping something in his hand. The elf looked up and caught the dwarf’s stare, Groin quickly looked away.

“Excuse me, Toller.” The dwarf said, grabbing the hobbit by the shoulder.
“I wonder if you would be kind enough to get me a good ol’ mug of hot Cider.” He placed a coin in the surprised hobbit’s hand, and then grabbed a chair at the nearest table.

He chuckled to himself as he watched the stunned Toller head into the back room. Not too many dwarves would turn down ale for any other drink. But this dwarf had weakness for Cider, and on a cold rainy day there’s nothing better than a hot mug of Cider. Toller came back with the mug and placed it in front of Groin. Groin then picked up the mug and decided to move to a corner booth.

As he made his way between the tables, clumsily bumping the other patrons, he noticed the beautiful lady that he saw out on the road. He stared at her as he scooted into a booth next to one of the inn’s windows. He then diverted his gaze to the window and watched as the rain come down in torrents.

“I surely wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of this.” He muttered to himself as he slowly sipped his drink

[Eönwë]

It was still raining when Songo came into the Inn. He had come all this way from the outskirts of Bree to visit his uncle Carnale in Hobbiton to celebrate Carnale's 70th birthday. He was hurrying back to Bree, but needed a place to stay for the night. Besides, he couldn't stay outside in that infernal rain! The storm had just come out of nowhere, and Songo's hat had been blown away. He had been particularly attached to his hat, as it had been passed down to him form his Great-Uncle, who had been quite the traveller.

As he opened the door, the warm air came out to greet him and he decided that he would probably stay a week here. People were talking festively, and drinking Ale and Cider, and Songo could have sworn that he saw a dwarf tripping on a table, but re-balancing before anyone could see. He felt at home. It reminded him of the Prancing Pony, except that most of the residents here were Hobbits. But then he was a Hobbit, so he couldn't really complain. He looked around again and could see that strange dwarf gazing out of the window, with a forlorn expression on his face, Songo thought, sipping what he hoped was warm cider

Just then Songo realized how cold he was and warmed himself up by the large fire. Then he went over to the Barman and asked him for a pint of his finest ale.

[Folwren]

Dick pattered in and out of the kitchen and behind the bar, filling new orders and often returning half the time simply because he had forgotten something before. Finally, he found a moment to stand still, briefly. Nothing seemed out of place. The guests were standing and sitting, some singling, others in small groups, all looking just a tad bit gloomy. But who wouldn’t, with the outside dark as evening and thunder rolling and thundering.

“Excuse me, sir,” a hobbit said, approaching the bar. “I’d like a pint of your finest ale.”

Dick smiled immediately. “Of course! Right away!” He bent and whipped out a mug as quick as a blink of an eye and began to fill it from the ale-butt just behind him. He was setting it on the bar top when the door blew open violently and in staggered a tiny creature, barely recognizable for a hobbit with a hat pulled low over his eyes and his little coat soaked and streaming with rain water.

“Shut the door, Fred!” Dick shouted to be heard over the great noise and thunder of the rain outside. “Shut the door and quit letting the wet in!”

“Sorry, Pops!” the hobbit child said. He lifted the brim of the hat to grin at his father before turning and using both hands to shut the door.