The Golden Perch Inn

[Loslote]

"Yes, I did," Idhreniel said. "I used to travel with my sister, but she has left for Valinor now, and I never asked for another partner." She laughed softly. "Perhaps not the wisest move. But I imagine you two will never face that choice."

Idhreniel looked to the front of the room, where Mithalwen was talking seriously to the bartender. "I hope nothing's wrong," she said. "Why do they look so grim?"

[Folwren]

Dick looked hopeless. "If you think you can find anyway to help, then by all means do so," he said, spreading his hands wide. He sighed, slumping visibly.

"Food," he said then, bringing himself to attention slowly. "Food! Of course!" He was the lively innkeeper again suddenly. "I'm [i]so]/i] sorry. I should have thought of that myself. Rowan! Rowan, by heaven, where do the girls get to when you need them? Ro - oh, there you are. Is there something hot in the kitchen?"

"Yes, we've got some bread just fresh out of the oven along with a new baked pie, and we've got steaks we can put on the grill as soon as -"

"There, you see," Dick said, turning to Mithalwen. "Make your order and they'll fix you up admireably. After a good lunch, I'm sure you all will be able to think of a way to help us find our cook."

[Mithalwen]

But I imagine you two will never face that choice

Carantilion shivered and glanced at his twin. They might argue and he might at times resent the authority she assumed by virtue of her few minutes longer of life but he could not imagine of a life long separated from his sister. They had seldom been separated by more than a few miles or hours so to be divided by the sundering sea forever was inconceivable.

"I hope not. Or not for ages. My father says he will not think of going while Elrond remains and my mother would not go without him. Besides he reckons Aman is not ready for us" he added remembering ruefully how his father had laughed long but somewhat mirthlessly at the idea of his children in Eressea.

He looked then across to where his aunt was now speaking to Rowan and then to the inkeeper who was opening a bottle of wine which he placed on a tray with four goblets which he passed to the elfwoman once she had finished ordering the meal.

" They do look serious - but look she is on her way back now. We will soon find out ".

[Loslote]

Idhreniel stood to help Mithalwen with the tray. "What news?" she asked. "You both seemed quite serious. I hope nothing bad has happened? It is, unfortunately, likely - the days have been dark recently."

She set the tray on the table and turned back to the elf. "The trouble will not hinder us from enjoying a meal, will it? If the problem is not pressing, let us eat."

[Mithalwen]

"Not exactly ..the innkeeper is most agitated about the disappearance of the cook but the other staff have managed to rustle up a few things, so food will be with us shortly" Mithalwen explained pouring wine for them all. "I don't quite know if it will help but I offered what help we could in finding her ... the searchers seem to have rushed off on wild goose chases without thinking it all through. I thought fresh minds might help the situation. But we can enjoy our meal first. I think. This wine is "Old Winyards" . From what I hear it should rival Dorwinion - if you have ever tasted that".

She passed the filled goblets to Idhreniel and the twins and took a sip from her own. Not quite as potent as the wines of Dorwinion but that was perhaps just as well - they had thinking to do - but its rich berry flavours spoke of good soil and a gentle climate. Unsophisticated perhaps but honest and open - maybe the wine or an area reflected the character of its people, the elf mused.

[Loslote]

Idhreniel smiled. "I have, but not for a long time, so I expect to be pleasantly surprised. My message isn't terribly important. I can spare time to help search. What do you know about the disappearance? And what have the earlier searchers done so far?"

Idhreniel sat again and took a goblet of wine. It was, of course, good. Idhreniel smiled. As she normally avoided company on the road, it had been some time since she had last enjoyed the pleasure of company and warm food. Coming here had been a good choice, despite her earlier qualms.

[Mithalwen]

"No, nor have I for many years - it is seldom to be obtained this side of the mountains,even at Rivendell. Rumour claims that Thranduil of Mirkwood is so fond of it that he buys much of each Dorwinion vintage leaving little for the rest of us - a scurrilous story no doubt but I am sure many would do likewise had they the purse and the influence! Anyway I digress." said the older elf.

Mithalwen, took another sip of wine then stood and moved away from the table slightly so she could get at the long case she had stowed under the bench earlier and unlocked it with a small key from her purse. She did not open it far enough to give the ever curious twins (who had not forgotten her earlier mention of presents) a sight of its contents other than the battered leather bag she extracted. The case was closed and tucked away and returning to her place. Mithalwen took out a slender softbound notebook bulked out with larger sheets of paper folded and tucked between it's pages. One of these she took and unfolded giving the others a glimpse of an abandoned design for an inlay before it was spread on the table. Mithalwen intended to be as methodical in this as she was with her craft.

"Well" she said, taking a pencil from her pocket and tapping it's end against her chin thoughtfully " it seems that the Cook received a letter yesterday and they think that might have something to do with it - in which case she left the Inn of her own will - though the letter may have been some trap or trick of course. And I don't think anyone heard a disturbance last night which would confirm that. The stableman has gone after the postman to see if he knows anything more. It might be a red herring though. She might have just gone for a morning walk and fallen in a ditch. A lot of the land near here is marshy or overgrown. Not many roads she could have taken- really only the track to the Woody End or the Causeway up to the East Road and bridge or down to the Ferry" . She stopped - uttering the words bridge and ferry spurred her memory and she thought back to the scene that had met her eyes when she had arrived at the inn. A ranger had been questioning a rather disreputable looking hobbit and she was sure that there had been mention of a boat.

"The river - someone saw a boat out on the Brandywine ..that is where the search party has gone I think - but I don't know exactly where".

[Folwren]

Seredic Boffin wiped the next mug only half enthusiastically with his rag. He set it by all the others underneath the counter and cast his eye over the empty common room. Almost empty, anyway. The only customer sat by the fire, and even he probably wouldn’t be there very long. He was old Mr. Burrower, an old customer who came in at least once a week, and even the absence of Cela, the old cook, hadn’t caused Mr. Burrower to change his habits. He was a dear old fellow to continue coming so faithfully.

Dick sighed as he picked up another mug, and he looked out the window. The leaves on the trees outside were rattling in the dry, cold November wind, and the door was shut fast to keep nipping air out.

Rowan came in from the kitchen and stopped by him with a clean stack of towels. “Naught much happening today,” she said, glancing about the room just as Dick had. Dick just shook his head. “Poor old cook. I wonder whatever happened to her,” Rowan murmured. She bent to put the towels away.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk as though she were dead, Rowan,” Dick said. His tone was a little sharp, and Rowan straightened abruptly. “Prim’s getting right along with the cooking. Pretty soon our common room will be as full as ever. And, besides, the beer’s still alright, which is what brings the most business from neighboring towns.” Rowan didn’t answer. She just nodded and turned about and went back to the kitchen.

Dick sighed. Things hadn’t been the same since cook left. The food had been good, but not as good as it used to be. Moods had been darker, tempers shorter, and although he knew it, he couldn’t always change even his own. The cold, overcast days that continued to roll in one after another with no rain and no warmth didn’t help.

[piosenniel]

Penny

Penny stood fidgeting, dancing a bit from foot to foot, as her aunt gave instruction to the stable-hand. A nice looking fellow, she thought. What with his honey colored curls and all. Smart, too. That is he took in Aunty’s instructions about the pony with a serious look on his face, no smirking, nodding his head as she ticked off the shaggy rascal’s little quirks and habits.

‘Now, mind you,’ she heard Iris say with a shake of her finger to emphasize the point. ‘Don’t go trying to brush him out before you feed him. I don’t want to hear that he’s nipped your arm ‘cause you wanted to do it your way!’

Seeing that Iris was about to begin instructing just how Velvet liked his oats done up, Penny excused herself with a quick smile at her aunt and a nod to the stabler. Picking up her own small satchel and Iris’ much larger carpet bag she made her way from the stable toward the Inn.

The dry, cold November wind chafed at her cheeks as she skirted round the building to the front entrance. Her feet hurried through the scattering of leaves along the way, making small crunching sounds as she passed.

A singular gust of wind gave some small assist as she pushed on the tight closed front door. A few leaves blew in with her entrance, skittering along the wooden floor before coming to rest beneath some old gaffer’s chair.

‘Sorry ‘bout that!’ she called out to the mostly empty room. Leaning her sturdy little body against the door, she shoved it shut tightly once again. ‘Didn’t mean to bring the chill in with me,’ she continued, coming to stand by the gaffer’s table. He was sitting near the fire enjoying a mug of something, something that smelled quite good . . . and warm, too. She could see the steam rising from the mug as he cupped it in his hands.

[xMellrynxMaidenx]

The crisp November wind gently blew passed the trotting paint stallion, the rider sitting astride his back gazing at the new land that was laying out before her. She pulled her steed to a halt at the entrance way of the small building that was built into the hillside, letting out a deep sigh before climbing off of him.

"We've done it this time, Aergolas."

The horse pawed at the ground, nipping at her grey cloak that was pulled tightly around her. Taking hold of the reins from his bridle, Aeron led the horse around towards the back of the building, smiling when she saw the stables.

"May as well stay for a while beings we're here, right?"

The paint shook his light chestnut and white mane, snorting at his rider. Chuckling, Aeron patted the side of his chestnut and white neck, leading him into the relatively warm stables. She led him into one of the empty stalls at the main end, removing his tack. Aeron smiled to herself behind her mask at the other two hobbits in the stables, pulling out a small brush from Aergolas' saddle bag, giving him a good brush down. Finishing up, Aeron closed and locked the gate to the stall, giving his muzzle one final scratch before exiting the stables, nodding her head in acknowledgment to the other two hobbits in the stables as she left.


Walking around to the front of the Inn, Aeron stepped inside, closing the door quickly so she didn't let any of the heat escape from inside the cozy room. Her eyes scanned over the relatively empty room, save for a few hobbits. The heat inside the room felt extremely good to her, not having felt as much warmth in quite a long time. Deciding to take up residence at the bar on one of the stools sitting there, she couldn't help but look at the small room with curious eyes, as if she had never seen such a sight before in her life. Her grey eyes landed on the hobbit standing beside a table for just a moment, before turning away to look at the wall in front of her. Truly she was an anti-social being and didn't mean to be, although that came from roving the wilderness of Middle Earth and being away from civilization for too long.