The Golden Perch Inn

[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.