The Golden Perch Inn

The generous serving of apple cider reached his nose as the barkeeper graciously slid it across the counter. It smelt absolutely delectable, and it wasn't unappealing to watch it refract the already dancing lights from the numerous candles that Dick had lit for the duration of the storm.

Haves maintained a conservative level of politeness to the barkeepers inquisitions.

"Been travelling whenever the daylight would let me then, 'aven't I?" He said pleasantly. "Been almost a week now since I've left the homestead, and surely I can only benefit from getting away from all tha' seclusion that's for true."

Without notice, he was unconventionally addressed by the intoxicated hobbit he had noticed flattering the coatstand earlier. It may have been the angle from the bar, or perhaps the way the light was hitting his face, but the cheerful hobbit looked redder and more unbalanced than ever. Hardly able to understand the slurred words of the halfling, Haves responded in the only logical way any man would when faced with a drunken inquisitor.

"Oh yer, indeed. You got that right, don't ye'."

With the faintest hint of an eyeroll, his eyes caught the other man sitting at the bar a few seats away from him. He cocked his head towards the hobbit and gave a soft chuckle.

[Groin Redbeard]

Groin had been staring out the window of the Inn for quite some time now. His head began to sag, a side affect from long hours of travel and the empty mug of cider. However, he awoke with a start as a roar of thunder filled the sky.

He looked around the room and noticed a few new faces that he hadn't seen before, an elderly man who was talking to a slightly drunk hobbit at the end of the bar, and a younger man a few bar stools down.

Groin began to feel a bit groggy; the rain always had this effect on him. He shook his head vigorously, waking himself again. He noticed the elf at the end of the bar grasping something in his hand, and wearing a kind of dazed look.

Groin got up and walked towards the bar to return his mug, and to reward the innkeeper for his wonderful services. However as he placed his mug on the counter, along with one of his gold coins, he noticed that the elf was staring at him. The elf's eyes were wide open and his body didn't make one move, it was like he was in some sort of daze. This annoyed Groin.

"Hey! You got a problem elf?" Groin roared pointing his finger menacingly, but the elf didn't move.

Groin stormed over to the other end of the bar, but just as he was about to let loose with his tirade, he noticed that the elf didn't seem to be noticing him at all; the elf just stared right past him. Groin grabbed the elf by the arms and began to shake him vigorously.

"Hey, wake up elf! Wake up!"

[Folwren]

Dick nodded and bobbed his head in agreement with the customer. As he expected, the man had been traveling a long way. Before he could ask where he had come from, or how far the week of walking had actually brought him, he was asked for another drink.

‘Just as well,’ Dick realized, seeing, as he turned, that Haves had been addressed by Songo. ‘What was it he wanted? Ale, right...ale...’ He filled it from the tap and turned to deliver it.

“There you are, sir. Finest light brew in the house.”

“Hey! You got a problem, elf?” The voice was loud and jarring in the generally quiet, laid back, and tired atmosphere spread through the rest of the common room. Dick jerked upright, his eyes and face suddenly more alert and attentive than ever.

“What is it about dwarves?” he mumbled to himself. “Master Dwarf!” he said more loudly, trying to move about the counter and catching the dwarf’s eye.

Groin apparently did not hear him. “Hey, wake up, elf, wake up!”

“Sir!” Dick cried again, hoping that he could get the dwarf away from the elf before the later had woken. But the hope was false, for the elf stirred and turned his head to look at Groin before Dick had arrived.

[shaggydog]

The barkeep, listening to the other’s reply, acknowledged Jims’ request with a nod. The man’s brief narrative was interrupted, however, when a middle aged hobbit, staggering slightly, walked up to the bar and complimented the barkeep on the good quality of his cider. Thus interrupted, the barkeep turned to fill Jims’ order. “There you are sir. Finest light brew in the house”

The tipsy hobbit had turned his eye on the other customer. "Hey, I know you. I saw you before the way here when you were-"

The hobbit stammered to a halt, having apparently realized just in time what he had been about to say.

“Oh yer indeed. You got that right don’t ye’.” The man at the end of the bar replied nonchalantly, unoffended by the hobbit’s potential indiscretion.

Jims dropped one eyelid in the slightest of winks in response to the other young man’s nod and quiet chuckle at the funny little fellow. The hobbit was by no means the first inebriated patron of a bar that Jims had seen. But his experienced eye led him to believe this one, as with most of the Halflings, was a merry drunk and not a mean or volatile one. In fact, it was actually rare for hobbits to frequent their inn in Bree, but Jims had seen enough of them there and in the other inns in town to know that most hobbits held their ale very well indeed. This one then must either be really celebrating, or perhaps wasn’t used to drink.

Jims’ cursory examination of the hobbit broke off suddenly as a loud voice sounded at the other end of the bar. There seemed to be some altercation brewing between an irate looking dwarf and a strangely quiescent elf. The barkeep hurried over and took the matter in hand with a smooth professionalism Jims could rightly appreciate. For once, it’s not my problem, Jims thought with some satisfaction. He turned his attention back to the two on the other side of him, regarding the somewhat bedraggled state of the man’s clothes and recalling his words to the barkeep.

“You’ve been on the road a week? Where do you hale from then?” Jims asked conversationally, wondering if the ale here was good enough to bring travelers that far just for a taste. With a wry grin, he thought also that wherever the other lad was from, it couldn’t be much closer than Bree. His own travels had proceeded at about the same pace as if he had been walking. And he had not seen this other lad in or about the stable, so he assumed he was afoot himself. Jims made a mental note to talk to the barkeep first thing the situation with the dwarf was sorted in order to make sure the stabling of his own horse was acceptable. Finally, with great satisfaction, Jims took a long sip of the pale ale, savoring its flavor and congratulating himself in this early success for his errand.

[Eönwë]

Songo felt quite embarassed. He had just been laughed at by that man. And all he had done was try to refer to the Incident on the road, before realising that maybe now wasn't the right time.

He looked around the bar, absent-mindedly sipping at his cider, before suddenly realising that he was sipping at nothing! It was his first taste of alcohol, and he already finished two mugs! He looked around for the barman, but he was nowhere in sight, so thought he would help himself to some ale. But just at that moment, he noticed a cask of somethig else, something that looked especially inviting, as he had never held with these sorts of intoxicating drinks until today. It had, marked on it, in big black letters, the word "mead". Now, Songo had heard of this delightful beverage, but it was hard to come by where he lived, and all hat spoke of it named it as some sort of distant luxury. As far as he knew, it was made out of honey, and Songo was particularly fond of honey. In fact, Songo had planned that when he got back, he would make a bee-farm so that he could enjoy sugary liquid every day. He had heard of honey's healing properties, and hoped that mead shared them. Anyway, it was worth a try. So he poured a small amount of Mead into his mug.

Immediately, it looked to Songo as if Dick's head snapped arond the moment he started, but he could not tell through te haze. He sat down again where he had before and savoured the taste of his drink.

But as he stretched his arm to the right, he hit something soft, and when he looked to his left, he realised that he had not gone back to his original seat, and had instead sat next to the other man, the quiet firstcomer. He gazed inntently at him, trying to pick out his features, and then realised that he recognised that face, he knew not from where.
"Sorry, er... Jams, is it?" said Songo hopefully, proud with himself for remembering himself.
The man said something undiscernable, but it sounded to Songo like he was saying "Jim's actually."
"Sorry," said Songo, "My minds not working right today."