The Golden Perch Inn

[Flame of Udûn]

Arandon was peased to talk about the places he had travelled for this was where his true enjoyment lay. The desire for travelling had been kindled in him when he was young and had stayed with him ever since and talking to someone who seemed to be truely interested in the wider world (which is something not often found in the shire) gave him great joy.

He was surprised she chose the Ettenmoors as her place of interest, it seemed very strange that that of all the places he had travelled she chose one that was so near to places she herself had been. "The Ettenmoors? Yes I have been there, though of it there is little to tell, it is not a truly evil place yet evil has chosen to reside there. Sometimes though it can appear pretty on a clear day perhaps even occasionally beautiful but those days are few and I must admit I have only been there a few times and never have I lingered longer than was needed, it is for the most part a rather bare and lonesome land. I would not have have expected to be asked about it, of all the lands you have not seen you choose one so close it seems to me that you could go there yourself if you were so inclined."

[Envinyatar]

‘Left here, Midge!’ Tolly tightened the rein in his left hand and flicked the loose right against his sturdy grey pony’s flank. Midge, for his part, twitched his ears and angled left, though his slow even pace did not increase in the least.

‘We’ll rest up here, lad,’ Tolly went on. This was his last delivery – two small casks of smoked fish, one of trout, the other perch. He was much looking forward to a pint of the inn’s fine ale and a nice feathered bed to sleep in for the night. Camping out along the road, living out of the back of his wagon was getting a bit old.

He pulled the wagon round to the inn’s side door, the one just past the garden, intending to bring his wares in. A movement on the far edge of the cabbages caught his eye and he craned his neck, narrowing his eyes to see better.

[piosenniel]

Iris

Iris knelt down among the cabbages, shaking her head as she inspected the slug eaten leaves. ‘Tsk, tsk!’ she muttered as she picked up one of the offending creatures and flung it as far away from the garden as she could. ‘This poor garden!’ She could see the glistening trails which wended this way and that among the plantings. ‘Needs some nice marigolds to keep the slimy critters away. Yes. . .’ She nodded her head. ‘That and a few hungry ducks to eat them!

The whole of the garden, really, had a sad, neglected air. What could the Cook be thinking to leave her vegetables and herbs in such a besieged and bedraggled state.

Iris stood up, dusting off the dirt from her knees, shaking it off the hem of her skirt. As she straightened her apron, she noticed some curious fellow gawking at her across the way.

‘Well,’ she said, fixing him with a steely stare back. ‘What are you looking at, good sir?!’

[xMellrynxMaidenx]

Truly, she didn't know herself as to why she chose to ask the seasoned dunadan about the Ettenmoors. Perhaps it was the sole reason it was off limits to a ranger of her skill, currently, is why she was so curious about it. "I am not as skilled in the art of the Ranger as you, sir, but one day I will be, and mayhap then I will journey there." Aeron dropped it from there, too eager to linger on one place for too long, for there was many areas this elder Ranger had traveled to.

"Do tell me more about your travels, master Ranger." Aeron smiled,"I am most curious about the distant lands; you say you've been north of Haradwaith, what was it like there?"

The young woman patiently awaited his reply, hoping he had a tale to offer her.

[Bom Tombadillo]

The man smiled. "My name is Hamwill, of Bree - though lately I've been travelling across the Shire, researching. I am afraid I didn't spend much time in Brandy Hall though - there was a farmer nearby who told me a good bit about mushrooms. He had horses the size of hounds - er, hounds the size of horses - too."

He carried on, utterly oblivious to the hobbit's annoyance. "In any case, if you are from Brandy Hall, would you mind talking?"

[Envinyatar]

Tolly flushed red to the tips of his toes. Caught gawping like a loutish schoolboy! Hopping down from his cart, he burrowed his toes in the loose dirt of the yard as he pulled his straw hat down low over his brow. Did I not teach you better than that! he could just hear his Gran whispering fiercely in his mind.

At a loss for words, he went to the rear of the cart and hefted a crate of smoked trout to his shoulders. ‘Nothing, m’am,’ he mumbled as he hurried toward the door. ‘Well, not “nothing” nothing…..that is….’ Oh, I am making quite the mess of this! he chided himself.

‘Name’s Tolly…..Tolly Bramble,’ he said, as he reached the kitchen entryway, clearing his throat. ‘Are you going in?’ He opened the door with his free hand. ‘After you, Mistress . . .’ His voice rose in a questioning tone.

[Flame of Udûn]

He spent a short while thinking of the lands that lie to the south of Gondor, he had spent a long time wandering in Ithilien, especially in the easternmost parts of that land where he kept a close watch on the orcs movements.

"Much of the lands in Gondor are decaying, slowly they are falling as the blood of Numenor thins, but one land falls less sharply, or perhaps fell from a much grater height. Of all the lands that I have wandered it is second in beauty only to Rivendell. It lies near to the Ephel Duath but it is not marred by their shadow, many times have wandered through Ithilien scouting the enemies movements, but I always linger longer than I aught and I am loth to leave it when I must. It is a rolling land which in spring is filled with the sweet scents of the trees, and all the while you are within earshot of the streams as they make their way to the Anduin and these make a simple music which can gladden the heart of any who hear it.”

[piosenniel]

Iris

Now it was Iris’ turn to scold herself. He didn’t seem the rude clodhopper she’d first thought him when she’d looked up to see him eyeballing her.

Stars above! She glanced down at the crumbles of garden dirt still clinging to the hem of her skirt. Gathering it up a bit she noted the smudges on her knees and the faint dusting of soil along her shins. And her hands, they were grimy with dirt despite her having brushed them together before she’d stood up. Not a wonder he’d gawked! What a sight she must be!! Lucky you didn’t scare the poor fellow!!

Replacing the earlier scowl with what she hoped was a friendly, though not overly encouraging smile, Iris sailed past Tolly, nodding her head somewhat as she did so.

‘It’s Mistress Puddifoot,’ she said, turning to face him as he entered the kitchen after her. ‘Iris Puddifoot.’ She pulled her handkerchief out of her apron pocket and wiped off as much dirt from her hands as she could.

Iris let her gaze drift round the kitchen. It seemed somewhat bedraggled. No wonder the garden is in such a sad state! she tsk’d to herself.

‘Where’s the Cook?’ she wondered aloud. ‘Be glad to lend her a hand with the garden while I’m here.’

[Galadriel55]

The man introduced himself. He said that his business in the Shire was “researching”, whatever that meant. The closest word Al has ever heard was “search”, so he assumed that Master Hamwill’s first search was fruitless and he had to do it again. But what could be so important that a man from Bree would travel to the Shire – a thing almost unheard of - just to look for it? Al couldn’t hide his annoyance and disapproval this time. However, the man didn’t seem to notice, and went on about his travels.

“There was a farmer nearby who told me a good bit about mushrooms. He had horses the size of hounds - er, hounds the size of horses - too." Now this is something more or less familiar. That must be old Farmer Maggot – who else could have dogs the size of horses? But there is something odd about this whole thing. Either the man is exaggerating, or I have not known Maggy! Him, giving away his mushroom secrets?! He’d rather swim down the Withywindle! Al accounted the confusing part about horses and dogs for the man’s queerness and lack of hobbit common sense (hobbit, because men simply didn’t have it). If he would ever have seen a real horse in his life, he’d take the last part with skepticism as well.

Some disbelief must have shown on Al’s face, because Hamwill stopped talking. After a small pause, he added, “In any case, if you are from Brandy Hall, would you mind talking?”

At that point, Al’s head almost exploded with curses, retorts, questions, and outrage. Unfortunately, they couldn’t all come out of his mouth at the same time no matter how much he tried (which was very lucky, because the tome that the man was holding looked pretty heavy). He even turned a bit red from the effort. After a few moments he finally choked out of himself a politely-worded but rude-sounding reply: “Talking about what, Master Hamwill?”

[xMellrynxMaidenx]

A picture began painting itself inside of Aeron's head; climbing, scented woods dominated the lands before them; the gentle, sloping lands rolled out like large earthen carpets; the refreshing streams flowing over rocks to meet the rushing Anduin. The young Ranger could even hear the water and smell the wood from the trees as Arandon had described. Aeron had a distant look in her eyes, telling those who looked at her that she wasn't there; not mentally anyways. Aeron would have remained in her reverie had it not been for the sound of a hobbit's voice mingled in with the other sounds of the Inn. Her cheeks colored pink when she looked back to Arandon, offering him a sheepish smile.

"Forgive me, Master Ranger, I was envisioning what Ithilien would look like. Please, tell me more." She paused, though quickly added,"if you do not mind, that is."

[Flame of Udûn]

Arandon saw the ranger drift off as he spoke but her question at the end puzzled him, there was little more to tell of Ithilien since no people lived there and other than himself he knew of none save the rangers of Ithilien who ever went into the land, he had heard of there hidden refuges he had never seen any. He wondered if she may have wanted him to talk of his own travels there or of other lands but he decided to finish his description.

"I have been somewhat untruthful in my description of Ithilien for while most of the land is free from shadow there is one place that is now totaly consumed by it, Minas Morgul. The Valley around it has become a place of great evil where few would dare to tread and fewer still would return, the Morgulduin which flows down the valley is poisoned, its waters do not sing as the others do, it is in discord with the rest of the land and has an foul smell which comes from the white flowers which are the only vegetation that grows there, it is a place I prefer not to speak of."

[Envinyatar]

Tolly stashed the crate of smoked trout in the walk-in pantry, the one farthest from the stove and hearth, the one where the foodstuffs that needed to be kept cooler were stored. There was no one in the kitchen save him and Mistress Iris; no one to answer her question.

‘Well, I’m not sure Miz Puddifoot…..about Cook, that is. But I’d heard since my last trip here that she’d gone missing.’ He shrugged his shoulders at her bemused look. ‘Vanished…..and no one knows where she’s gone off to.’

He looked round the kitchen which seemed to be in a state less tidy, less organized than Cook would have her kitchen be in. ‘I think it’s just the serving girls that are trying to keep things going for now.’ He should his head. ‘Though were it up to me I would say that Cook is just not coming back.’

Tolly turned toward the door, intending to bring in the last crate, the smoked perch. ‘Seems like the girls are doing the best they can.’ He shrugged. ‘But being Cook here at the Perch is a big job…..bigger than they can take on and do their own jobs, too.’

When the crate of perch was tucked away next to the that of the trout, Tolly excused himself from the kitchen and went to find the Innkeeper, to let him know he’d brought the smoked fish as was promised.

[Bom Tombadillo]

Hamwill spoke eagerly to the angry hobbit, saying "Well, Brandy Hall itself for one. As I said, I was only there for a short time, and I'm interested in -" He paused, having finally noticed the hobbit's obvious frustration and confusion and mistaken it for constipation.

"Are you entirely all right, Mister Al - um - I seem to have quite forgotten your name . . ." he continued with an expression of deep confusion. "Well, I've gotten off course. As I meant to say, are you all right?"

[Galadriel55]

Al was too busy being mad to pay much attention at first to what the man was saying. Suddenly, Hamwill stopped short in the middle of a sentence, which jerked Al back to his attention. "Are you entirely all right, Mister Al… um… I seem to have quite forgotten your name… " The man said. Oh, how rude! Don’t they ever learn anything?! To forget my name, when I said it twice just a minute ago! And… wait, he said if I’m all right? I’m all right?

“Now, see there, mister, you’re the one who isn’t all r…” All begun to say, when the first part of the man’s rather short speech registered in his head. Well, why didn’t he say so right away? He could have told me that he’s interested in my town! That’s what he’s probably searching for – the most perfect town in the Shire, because he wants to move here from Bree (like all sensible people should)! He should nave spent more time at the Brandy Hall, because it is the only possible option. I mean, where else? Al didn’t notice that he opened and closed his mouth several times while his brain was slowly catching on. Hamwill stared at him as if his nose fell off, but Al wasn’t aware of it.

“Brandy Hall! Why, it’s the most bestest place you’ll find anywhere! I mean, what else could you expect from such a splendid place? Like Larry said – he’s my third cousin once removed, by the way, - so he says ‘where you live is what you are, and what you are is where you live’, you can see this right away with Brandy Hall. And my great-uncle Brisso also says this. Did I tell you Larry is my third cousin? Well, he’s also my second cousin, but either way once removed. You see, we are related from both my mother’s and my father’s side, And his brother Jack too – oh, me and Jacky used to have so much fun together! Well, Jacky’s what we call’im, his real name’s Jack, but anyways, few years back we went swimming down the River, and his leg caught on some very long seaweed, but I kept…”

“No, no, please!” the man cut across Al’s monolog, “That’s not what I meant!” Al couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with him or not.

[Bom Tombadillo]

Hamwill seemed to have at last comprehended the hobbit's irritation towards him with the comment he had just made. "Now see there, mister, you're the one who isn't all r . . ." the hobbit's comment trailed off and Hamwill stared at him for several moments before he launched into his rapidly delivered speech, then cut him off in mid-sentence. He immediately regretted it, but his mouth carried on.

"That's not what I meant, and if you don't wish to speak with me, then have out with it! And if you do, then slow down and don't ramble so much!" At this Hamwill feared the trouble that his overly eager mouth had gotten him into; he acted contrite, saying "Er, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude . . . "

[piosenniel]

Penny

My goodness! thought Penny, watching the little scene play out between the man she’d loaned her little stick of charcoal to and the Hobbit fellow who seemed, at least in her thought, to be a bit prickly . . . and loud!

‘I don’t know about you, Mr. Burrower,’ she whispered quietly across the table to the old gaffer. ‘But things seem to be getting a bit unsettled around here.’ She nodded toward the man and the Hobbit. ‘I think I’ll just go find my Auntie Iris and see if she needs any help.

Penny pushed her chair away from the table as unobtrusively as she could and made her way to the kitchen. A stocky built Hobbit fellow came through the door, nearly knocking her down as she hurried through the entryway. ‘Scuse me,’ she said, easing her way around him.

And there was Aunt Iris, standing in the middle of the kitchen, frowning . . .

[Galadriel55]

Al didn’t think that the explanation that the man gave him was a good reason to interrupt the story. At least he apologized for it! Maybe he does have some common sense! Al’s expression of fury and anger melted into a kind smile in the matter of seconds.

“Don’t worry about it, Master Hamwill! Forgive and forget, as my muther used to say about-” Al caught himself just in time, because his mother used to say this about the Big Folk, who just don’t have any common sense to guide them. “…Er, about some, um, accidents! Yes, accidents it is! Well, if you want me to tell you something different, could you please be more specific about what you want to hear?”

[Undómë]

Rowan kept a wary eye on the Hobbit and the man, fearing at first that tempers, or at least the temper of the Hobbit, would flare up and there would be some sort of commotion. ‘Hmmmph!’ she mumbled under her breath. And just who would have to clean up after them! she thought to herself. ‘Me and Prim!’ she said aloud in a quite exasperated manner. She noted a number of those sitting near her now looked her way with questioning frowns on their faces.

Rowan busied herself piling up dishes and cups from those who had eaten and ignoring the curious lookers on she hurried toward the kitchen…only to find some strange, older Hobbit lady standing in the middle of the kitchen and the new younger Hobbit miss, the one about her age, looking at the older lady as if she, too, were wondering what was going on in here.

‘May I help you?’ she asked, setting her load of dirty dishes on the counter near the sink. ‘I’m Rowan, Rowan Muddifoot. One of the servers here at the Perch. Is there something I can do or get for you?’ She looked inquiringly from the young Hobbit to the older.

[Folwren]

Seredic busied himself behind the counter, listening in on the two ranger’s discussion about distant lands. All in all, none of them sounded as nice as the Shire, and he marveled that anyone could ever want to leave. But Aeron seemed quite enthralled and Dick didn’t have the discourtesy to interrupt and tell them his honest opinion of traveling.

Once or twice, his attention was drawn over to where Al sat with the man with the book as Al’s voice raised on occasion with anger, but he saw that Rowan was keeping a sharp eye on them as well, and until things got very out of hand, he wouldn’t interrupt. Everyone else in the Common Room seemed to be content. That trouble-making Ibin sat sulking at his table, with both hands resting on the board and looking about. He had not ordered anything. Dick wished he would, and if he was not going to, he wished he would leave.

Dick caught sight of Tolly almost as soon as he had come out of the kitchen. “Ah, I guess he’s just brought the fish,” Dick said to himself. “Tolly!” he hailed the hobbit. “If you’ve finished your work, would you like to join me for a mug of ale and we can discuss what’s been going on?”

[Envinyatar]

‘Well, I’ve finished my work, that’s for sure. One crate of smoked trout, one of perch stowed away in the kitchen.’ Tolly reached for the half-pint Seredic had drawn for him and took a good swig. ‘Good as ever!!’ he said with an affable nod toward the Innkeeper.

Tolly set his mug down on the bar and glanced toward the door to the kitchen. ‘More than just my fish tucked away in there,’ he said, motioning with his chin. ‘A Mistress Puddifoot is in there, too. Tsk-tsking over the state of your kitchen, I think, as well as the garden patch just outside it.’ He grinned at Seredic. ‘If you’re not fast enough, seems like the kind of lady be straightening up and rearranging things more to her liking.’ His eyes sparkled with laughter as he nodded his head. ‘I do believe I just got out of there before she recruited me to start some weeding.’

He lifted the mug again and drained it. ‘Wouldn’t say no to another, if you’re offering, Master Boffin,’ he said with a hopeful eye on the ale cask. ‘How’s the Missus, by the way? And the wee ones?’

[xMellrynxMaidenx]

The chattering between the man and the haughty hobbit captured the attention of the young female more than once, though she did not glance away from the older Ranger. "I have been somewhat untruthful in my description of Ithilien for while most of the land is free from shadow there is one place that is now totaly consumed by it, Minas Morgul." A shiver ran up her spine as the name slipped from his lips. "And I would prefer not to hear of it, Master Ranger."

Aeron glanced over her shoulder at the chattering table again, frowning slightly. The Inn had definitely become busier since she first arrived, that was for certain. "And you've traveled across these lands in solitude, haven't you?" The young ranger had caught some of Arandon's previous conversation with Dick when he first arrived at the Inn.

[Bom Tombadillo]

Hamwill noticed the Hobbit's smile and felt relieved that his rapid comment had not been taken too hardly. He thought that the last part of the saying the Hobbit had quoted sounded rather queer, but perked up when he asked what he wanted to know.

"Well, what about Brandy Hall itself; its history, say. Starting with its founding, of course - I got an earful about who, but nothing too sure about when. I've got a bit of a timeline assembled for the history of the Shire, and I'd like to expand on it."

[Galadriel55]

Al noticed that some people in the room were eyeing him queerly. The closest one was a hobbit lady, about his age, who appeared to be the server: she was collecting dirty plates. Before leaving, she took one last glance at him and muttered something that sounded like mean rim. Al gave her a curious look, but right away he turned back to the man across from him, because he began to speak.

"Well, what about Brandy Hall itself; its history, say. Starting with its founding, of course - I got an earful about who, but nothing too sure about when. I've got a bit of a timeline assembled for the history of the Shire, and I'd like to expand on it."

Al didn’t understand all of what the man told him. He decided not to make an issue of it, though.

“Well, as for who, that’s easy – old Gorbadoc Brandybuck, but you say you’ve heard enough about him. When... – who cares? What does it matter? It’s built, isn’t it? So why worry about these things? It’s the bestest place in the whole world, and that’s all you really need to know.” Al paused for a moment, and then added, “Could you please tell me, Master Hamwill, what is a timeline?”

[piosenniel]

Iris

‘May I help you?’ the lass said, stowing her pile of dirty dishes on the counter. ‘I’m Rowan,’ she went on, ‘Rowan Muddifoot. One of the servers here at the Perch. Is there something I can do or get for you?’

Iris gave Rowan a measuring look. Was there a general air of tiredness about the younger Hobbit? Where were the rest of the servers and maids and kitchen help and the cook, herself, she wondered.

‘Maybe I can help you,’ Iris replied, looking again about the kitchen. ‘My niece and I will be staying in the area for a bit, I think. And . . . well, I don’t mean to be forward, or anything, but it looks as if you could stand a little help in the kitchen.’ She nodded toward the door to the outside. ‘And, my stars, that poor garden out there is in need of some weeding and spading and de-slugging!’

‘Is your cook about, Mistress Rowan? Could I have a word with her?’

[Undómë]

Rowan could feel a rather hysterical wave of laughter bubbling up inside her at the lady’s question. She tried to fight it down . . . without success. She started giggling and hiccuping as she tried to answer Miz Puddifoot.

‘My stars, indeed,’ she gasped, pulling out one of the heavy oak chairs at the kitchen’s table. Rowan plopped herself down rather ungracefully and gulped in a few deep breaths. ‘Oh how I wish I could just call for cook and you could speak with her, Mistress Puddifoot.’

With a corner of her apron she dabbed at her teary eyes. ‘You can’t speak with her . . . you see . . . she’s gone missing. And for a long time now.’ Rowan glanced woefully around the kitchen. ‘It’s just me and Prim, now, to do the cooking and the serving and the cleaning up and see to the wants of the guests, too.’ She heaved a long sigh. ‘We do our best . . . we do . . . but it’s just getting to be too much . . .’

[Flame of Udûn]

He knew that mentioning Minas Morgul in the shire was not wise. The land was blissfully unaware of the dangers that lay east of the mountains and it was nice to know there was a place that did not live in constant fear of them.

"Yes I mostly travel alone, I prefer it that way, it is much safer to travel alone when you are spying, you only have yourself to worry about then. It can get very lonely though and you have far too much time to think.”

[xMellrynxMaidenx]

Aeron nodded her head in agreement, glancing down at the counter top for a short moment, thinking of what Arandon had just said. In the first few summers of her life as a Ranger, Aeron learned quickly just how solitary a Ranger's life was, and how dangerous it could get. She found herself unconsciously massaging her upper arm nearest to the elder ranger; remembering the barbed arrow that pierced her flesh. The scar left now served her as a painful reminder of the first solo task appointed to her.

The young woman squeezed her shoulder in an attempt to brush off her previous action, after realizing what she was doing, and of how silent she had grown.

"'He may not be able to speak the same tongue as we, but he'll listen to you when the silence becomes maddening.'" She glanced back up at Arandon, "it's something my father once told me, about my companion Aergolas. Though it isn't the same as human companionship, it helps still to ward off the engulfing silence." Aeron had yet to travel on a task without the company of her equine friend.

[piosenniel]

Rowan’s sigh lengthened out into a thick sort of silence, a sort of bone tired weariness that more words would not dispel. Iris shook off the urge to say ‘There, there…’ and pat the lass’ hand saying how surely things would get better soon. Obviously they hadn’t so far; they seemed to have gotten worse. Rowan looked so worn out and to be truthful the kitchen looked so….well, jumbled up.

‘Penny!’ Iris’ voice cut through the momentary torpor that crept through the room. ‘Make us a nice pot of tea, please,’ she ordered, pointing toward the pile of tea pots and lids on a nearby counter. ‘Rowan, fetch the honey to the table here. And some cups.’

While the two bustled about, Iris found a bread knife and cut some thick slices from the brown bread loaf which looked to be at least a day old. She toasted them quickly over the kitchen fire and spread them generously with butter and some jam she’d found in a pot nearly hidden by a pile of rumpled dish towels. She piled the toast on a platter and motioned the two to have a seat at the table.

‘And you, too,’ she called to the dark haired young woman who’d just come into the room. It was Prim, wondering where Rowan had gotten to.

Over cups of sweet, hot tea and toast with jam, the four women held counsel – a makeshift sort of plan was formed. Rowan and Penny would do the taking orders, the serving, and the clearing up for now. Prim would stay in the kitchen with Iris and they’d get some sort of meal going.

Iris took down one of the aprons hanging beside the stove and tied it securely about her waist. She poked her nose in the large pantry and rummaged about for a bit. ‘Here,’ she said, tossing two large onions to Prim. ‘Chop these up and throw them in one of the kettles.’ She poked around a bit more, uncovering the remains of a ham not yet gone bad. ‘This’ll do, too. Ooh, and here’s a nice little sack of butter beans.’ Iris smiled at the thought. ‘Ham and beans…that’s always good for keeping your sides from flapping together.’

Soon there was a savory smell drifting through the kitchen – ham, beans, onions augmented by fresh herbs Prim had fetched from the garden. Prim stirred the large kettle in a contented way while Iris threw together flour and shortening and leavening and was now rolling out the dough for biscuits.

[Folwren]

“Mistress Puddifoot...” Dick said thoughtfully to himself. “I don't rightly know if I have ever met this Mrs. Puddifoot. Maybe she wouldn't be a bad replacement for Cook? I wonder...”

He was sunk in thought for a moment, and then Tolly said, “Wouldn't say no to another, if you're offering, Master Boffin. How's the Missus, by the way? And the wee ones?”

“Certainly, I'm offering,” Dick said, reaching out his hand and taking the mug. He filled it and handed it back. “Lilly is doing quite well, thank you, as well as the rest of the family. They're all as healthy as you could wish for this time of year. Lilly worries something awful about Cook missing. She says it will be a drain on the business and may cause the Perch to lose some of it's old name. I told her that couldn't be, as the ale's stayed the same, even if Cook has disappeared. She cares something awful about this place, her old dad having owned it and run it before me. If you'd like to know, it can be something of a rough ride to try to fill the old man's shoes.”

As he spoke, a whiff of air came from the kitchen as Prim came out of it. Dick turned his head and sniffed. “I say, they've got lunch already going! I'm dashed if Mrs. Puddifoot did go and take over for Cook!”

[Mithalwen]

A smart little wagon pulled up outside the inn. The liver chestnut cob that drew it raised his head as if he remembered he had been here before, but as he made to go round to the stable yard his driver gave a last gentle pull on the reins before descending from her seat with all the easy elegance of her people.

"Not today, Bracken lad, our journey is not over so soon - but your load will be a little lighter". The pony almost seemed to sigh as his mistress, the elf Mithalwen led him to the water trough and let him drink while she went to the back of the waggon and unloaded a couple of bags which she left at the inn door. She returned to the waggon's front and received carefully a large bundle from her companion, a mortal woman alike in height and build to herself - though the woman's hair was as dark as the elf's was pale. The bundle wriggled and unfolded itself into a small girl wrapped in a dark blue cloak who grizzled into her mother's skirts the second she too had stepped down from the box seat.

"You are sure then? There is an inn at Bree", Mithalwen spoke Sindarin to Elintiriel for the folk of her native Belfalas spoke it as a mother tongue.

"Yes I am sure - it is a cold day's drive away and the sooner this one has a hot bath and a warm bed the sooner she will be well won't you, Annie?". The child's only response was to hide under Elintiriel's cloak. "and it is only for a few days. The place looks homely enough"

"It is, and Mr Boffin will make you welcome - he was very good about the twins" she recalled. They had settled quite well at Mithlond, better than she had expected after the inauspicious start to their visit but she had rather hoped that Elin would have stayed at the havens while she made this trip. Having Angharad around to amuse seemed to have kindled a sense of responsibility in her feckless niece and nephew but Mithalwen was a little uneasy leaving them alone for over a fortnight. Yet the journey had to be made, rendered more important since the shenanigans over the twin's arrival had aborted her previous trading trip to Bree six months ago, and the woman had begged to accompany her. Then Annie had started to get ill and though they camped in the relative comfort of Woody End, Elin had wanted to get a proper roof over her child's head as soon as possible.

Elin coaxed her daughter out from under her cloak to say goodbye to Mithalwen and the elf crouched down to say "namárië" to Angharad and the battered one eared rabbit she clutched to her chest. She smoothed the hair from the child's hot forehead, rose and bade farewell to Elin, noticing how thin she seemed as she embraced her. Perhaps the hobbits would have more success at feeding her up than she had.

As she drove away towards the Brandywine Bridge she wondered if Elin would be there when she returned. She seemed restless, haunted or was it hunted? Mithalwen wondered momentarily what Elin was running from - perhaps the husband was not dead but violent? She dismissed the idea.. Elin had always spoken of him with love and grief. Mithalwen chided herself for the lack of charity. She of all people should understand. Had she not lost those she loved most to Mordor, and had she not run away for a while?

Elin picked up her bags and her daughter's hand and stooping to clear the lowish round doorway she went into the inn, immediately grateful for the warmth of the common room. She was suprised but pleased to see there were other "bigfolk" in the common room but she approached the bar first where a hobbit she took to be the Landlord was serving ale to another and talking about the Cook as far as she could catch -she hadn't spoken much Westron for a while and the accent here was different to in the South as were many words. She remembered Mithalwen had spoken of the Cook disappearing during her stay here and wondered if it could still be a topic of conversation so many months later.

She hesistated not wanting to interrupt but the hobbit turned towards her asking how he could help. Her speech was stilted at first as she started to speak in Westron fearing her accent would not be understood

"Mr Boffin is it? If possible, I would like a room for myself and my daughter for two nights probably three... she is ill - only a cold" she spoke sharper than she meant fearing the landlord would turn her away for bringing contagion into his house and realising this she smiled in an attempt to soften her tone, "but she needs warmth and rest", Angharad raised her arms demanding to be picked up. Elin obliged though the child was really getting too big to be carried and her daughter laid her head against her shoulder, drowsily snuffling like a piglet. Elin's own nose twitched but it was not a sneeze. She had caught the scent of the food being prepared in the kitchen. It took her back instantly to the farmhouse in Edhellond where she had spent her early childhood, the happiest time of her life save the short years of her marriage, and this time the warmth in her smile was spontaeneous. Suddenly and for the first time she could remember, she felt hungry.

[Flame of Udûn]

Arandon was surprised to hear about the horse, he had not taken a horse on his journeys for many years. It would not have been fair to force any creature to venture into the places he had been to and he had always had a soft spot for horses, his sisters had ridden often when he was young.

"Your quite right there, but I would not force any creature to come with me to the places I am often forced to go, indeed no one should ever have to go there but..." He trailed off and could not think of anything else to say; he often found himself struggling in these situations, he could not hold a conversation up for long.

[Undómë]

Rowan stood to one side as the woman spoke to Master Boffin. ‘So thin!’ she whispered to Penny, drawing the other lass close. ‘Needs a bit of fattening up, don’t you think?’ Her eye was caught by the little girl who snuffled her nose as she lay on the woman’s shoulder. Her daughter, if she’d heard right.

Poor, wee mite! she thought to herself as she smiled up at the girl. She waggled her fingers at the one-eared, love-worn rabbit clutched in the little one’s hand. ‘So, Master Hop-it; or little Mistress, if I’d got it wrong . . . I’m Rowan.’ She smiled widely and dropped a little curtsy. You look a bit cold. How about a nice warm mug of honeyed milk with some little, buttered toast fingers to dip in? Makes your tummy happy, or so my Gran always said to me.’

Rowan nodded her head up at the little girl. ‘And I ‘spose we could do up another mug for your friend there . . . if she’d like one . . .’

[Mithalwen]

Angharad wasn't so ill or misled by the hobbit's dialect not to understand the offer. She had not quite believed that there really were halflings, people no bigger than herself but grown up, and not just in stories, until they had started their journey across the Shire. Now she was seeing one up close and she was fascinated enough to forget her head felt muzzy and her limbs ached.

Her mother had often said how clever and wise the Elves were but Rowan had caused Hobbits soar to far far above them in Angharad's estimation. Rowan understood about Isildur. Not like those elves who no matter how kind they tried to be were always making silly offers to replace his lost ear, as if he were a thing not a person - her constant companion all the days of her life.

"Ammë?", Angharad looked up at her mother for approval and seeing her nod, the girl squirmed down to the floor and attempted her best curtsey in response to Rowan's. A wobble or two later she straightened up and was more or less on the same level as the hobbit.

"'Sildur would like some milkanhoney" she said a little thickly "an..me too, please" her bright blue eyes looked hopefully into Rowan's hazel ones.

Elin looked fondly at her daughter, glad that she had remembered some of her manners as well as her Westron. "Well done, Annie, why don't you go and choose where we are going to sit?". She waited a moment for her daughter to focus on what she decided would be the best available table then thanked Rowan.

"You have made a great impression there, Miss Rowan, - any friend of Isildur's is a friend of Annie's. Isildur is the rabbit " she elaborated, remembering how the name had been a joke of her brother's that stuck, "after the king of old. Annie is my daughter and I am Elin". She felt instinctively that this was not a place for the formality of full names and knew that Angharad sounded harder and almost unlovely to speakers of the Common tongue while her own was simply just too long.

"Milk and honey would be perfect for Annie, but if it isn't too much trouble, might I have some tea?" she asked, keeping at least half an eye on the child who was clearly delighted to discover that a hobbit-sized chair fitted her perfectly and was installed in one as if it were a throne. Her felt rabbit lying now across her lap, her little hands grasped the chair arms as she waited for her mother to join her.

[Folwren]

It never entered Dick’s mind to turn the woman and her daughter away. He had children of his own, and his fatherly heart went out to the little one. November was miserable enough without having a dreadful cold, and it certainly looked like she had a pretty dreadful one.

Rowan seemed to know Dick’s thoughts, for without even consulting him, she made welcome to the little girl and offered her tea and toast. Dick smiled as Elin and Annie turned in Rowan’s direction, knowing they were in good hands. Annie went to search for a table and Elin asked for some tea for herself. Rowan would see to it.

Dick turned again to Tolly. “Do you have any more deliveries today, or are you going to able to stick around a while? You ought to at least stick around to try whatever it is Mrs. Puddifoot is inventing in there.”

[Undómë]

‘I had a little rag doll myself, Mistress Elin. My constant companion and holder of all my secrets. Still have her, in fact,’ she chuckled. ‘My Gran tucked her away in my satchel when I went away from the family burrow. With a little note that Buttercup – that’s what I called my dolly – had a lot of hugs from her for me just waiting for when I needed them.’

‘Looks like Annie is all settled in,’ she went on, nodding toward the table the little girl had chosen. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and join her. I’ll see to your room. And Penny here can fetch your tea and the honey milk and toast fingers for Sildur and his girl.’

Rowan sent Penny to fetch the drinks, with a whispered instruction to bring a plate of hot, buttered toast and a pot of strawberry jam. ‘Momma is too thin to my way of thinking!’

She hurried off to air out the room and fluff up the feathered pillows. The patchwork quilts were nice and thick, but just in case they got cold at night, she put two dark blue woolen blankets on the chest at the foot of the bigger bed. Fluffy towels and wash cloths were piled neatly on the wash stand next to the basin and pitcher. As a last touch, she fetched a small vase and filled it with some pretty autumn leaves and a few stalks of fragrant herbs.

Rowan stepped back toward the door. There, that looks good! she thought to herself as she surveyed the room. She hurried back to the kitchen to give a hand with the lunch meal.

[piosenniel]

Penny

Penny tapped the shoulder of the lass stirring the kettle of beans. ‘Prim? Can you tell me where the milk is . . . and, oh yes, the butter?’ Prim kept the long wooden spoon moving in circles in the thick bean mixture as she pointed out the location of each of the needed items.

In a short time the milk was heated and the honey drizzled in. Bread was toasted to a golden brown, spread generously with butter – some slices were piled on a plate, one was cut into fingers. A small pot of sweetspice tea was brewed; its fragrant steam made Penny smile as it reminded her of her mother’s kitchen.

‘This should be interesting – trying to get this to the table without spilling or dropping anything!’ she murmured under her breath. She looked over the tray loaded with teapot, honey, two small plates of toast, strawberry jam, cutlery, and cups – one sloshing a bit with warm milk and honey. ‘Oh, I’d better bring a third cup for the bunny,’ said as she eyed her load.

Don’t drop it; don’t drop it! she thought to herself as she grasped the tray in front of her and made for the common room. With a relieved sigh she set the tray on the table edge and placed the items on it on the table.

‘Now if you need anything else, anything at all, just call me or Rowan over and we’d be happy to fetch it for you.’ She flushed a bit, realizing she hadn’t introduced herself, ‘Oh, yes, my name is Penny, by the way.’

[Envinyatar]

‘No more deliveries, Master Boffin,’ Tolly said, leaning comfortably against the bar. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just stay overnight. I’ve a mind to do a little ale sampling today.’ He grinned as he raised his mug to the Innkeeper. ‘And mayhap, when I’ve loosened up a bit, I might take out my fiddle and see if I can coax a few tunes out of it.’

He took a swig of the Perch’s fine brew and looked over the mug’s rim. ‘That is, if it’s alright with you…’

[Galadriel55]

Before the man could answer Al’s question, the latter’s attention was diverted again, this time by a tall thin dark-haired woman and a girl coming into the room. The child held close a battered-looking rabbit. There was an air of sadness about them. With them came in a gust of cold November wind. Al felt the chill and shivered. The woman followed the child to a table.

Forgetting completely about the man in from of him, Al made to stand up and go over to the woman’s table. Unfortunately, in his excitement he brushed his arm against his mug of beer. It tipped over, rolled off the table, and shattered into many pieces, spraying the beer all over the place.

Al stood rooted to the spot. He stared blankly at his surroundings. His gaze traveled slowly from the broken mug, to the puddle on the floor, to the stream of ale dripping off the side of the table, to his fancy vest, now splattered with beer. Al sighed. He didn’t even taste the best beer in the Shire.

[Undómë]

As she passed through the common room, Rowan glanced over to the table where the lady and her little girl were now seated. Good job, Penny! she said to herself with a smile. That one has all the makings of a right server! Didn’t spill a drop and managed to keep the toast from sliding off the plates!!

That wasn’t true, however for the rather tall Hobbit, she noted. Somehow he’d managed to knock over his mug of ale and there it was all over the table and puddling on the floor along with the shattered mug’s shards. She fixed what she hoped was an “it’s alright” smile on her face and approached him.

‘There now,’ she said taking out a towel she always had tucked in her apron. ‘You just step away from the table before you cut your foot on one of those jaggedy pieces.’ She handed him the clean towel. ‘Here . . . Master Brandybuck, isn’t it? Just dab yourself off and go over to the bar there. Master Boffin will set you up with another mug to settle your nerves.’

Rowan surveyed the mess before her. ‘And I’ll just get the broom and dustpan and mop bucket to clean up the spill. Be right as rain before you know it!’

[Galadriel55]

A server quickly came over to Al and gave him a towel to wipe whatever he could off his shirt. She suggested that Al go to the bar while she cleaned up, but he had other ideas. He didn’t want the dark-haired woman and her child to think of him as a clumsy good-for-nothing hobbit.

“Thank you kindly. My deepest apologies about this. I will do what I can to help clean the mess I made.” Whatever has gotten into me? he thought immediately, Cleaning is the last thing I want to do at the moment! But he started already. It wouldn’t be good to back away like that. Making good impressions was a tiresome business. “I’ll wipe it up myself, if you give me a broom, Mistress… er…” Al just realized that he doesn’t know the server’s name.