The Golden Perch Inn

[Folwren]

"Yes, Darrell Largebarrel is me name and I hail from near Oatbarton up in North Farthing. Never get out if that area much xcept to make special deliveries to the Green Dragon in Bywater. Someone there told me 'bout the Floating Log in Frogmorton, so when I went to visit, someone there told me 'bout the Golden Perch here in Stock."

Then this hobbit was someone who sold goods to inns, Dick said to himself as he listened to the stranger’s introduction. He would soon find out what his wares were, no doubt.

"Nice beer,” Darrell said when Dick made no reply. “Nice inn you have here too if ya don' mind me sayin'."

Dick nodded and looked about. He appreciated the old place for its integrity and well known reputation of fine hospitality and better beer. He found that maintaining such a place was not always as easy as he had originally supposed when he came into possession of it.

"I can gather a sense of Oatley hops in this beer,” Darrell observed, pulling Dick’s attention back to him. “Wouldn't mind procuring a cask for myself. Maybe you could advise me as to who the brewer of such fine amber is?"

“Why that’s the beer brewed in our own county,” Dick said with satisfaction. “That’s what’s got us our name, see? Drew Berrybanks and his family’s brewed it for the last hundred years.” Was it really a hundred years? Maybe not. Dick didn’t want to do the math just now. “You can find him popping in here sometimes on an evening. Otherwise, he lives out of town by the east road.

“So you provide the Floating Log and Green Dragon with your wares? What do you sell, Mr. Largebarrel?”

[Undómë]

Prim stood just outside the door to the pantry as she motioned to Rowan with her hand and gave a muffled, ‘Psssst…’! She could barely hold back the chuckle that threatened to escape her lips.

Rowan hurried over, her brow furrowed. What on earth was so funny back there among the crocks and jars and shelves and sacks of grains? As she drew nearer she could hear a quiet babble of intertwining voices, punctuated by the occasional muffled, guttural sound. Rowan peeked around the door’s edge, her eyes going wide at the sight.

There was Annie kneeling over the rag basket, her little hands busy wrapping a strip of rag she was using as a bandage around old Granny Whiskers’ front leg. In her own voice she was cooing at Granny in a soothing manner, asking the old cat if she felt better now. And in a lower pitched voice she was answering back as Granny, announcing that yes the leg feels better now, but some bad rat had bit her on the tail just yesterday and it was hurting something awful. Granny Whiskers was hardly able to say much else on her own behalf as there was an old woolen sock placed round her head to help mend some affliction in that area – thus the source of muffled, guttural sounds Rowan had heard.

To her feline credit, Granny Whiskers had not used her claws on the young, well intentioned healer. But, as the girl turned her focus toward the old cat’s tail, Granny mobilized her considerable bulk and leaped from the basket.

Trailing streamers of raggedy bandages like some old mouldering wraith, she sprinted across the kitchen floor making for the open door as if chased by ghastly wights. She caromed off a pair of shoes and bumped between a pair of ankles in her desperate hurry to escape to the safety of the old garden shed.

Her little fists balled on her hips, Annie shook her head at her now escaped patient.

“How rude of her!’ Rowan tsk-tsk’d in a sympathetic voice. ‘And here you were just trying to help her!!’

[Galadriel55]

Al sighed and gulped down the remains of his ale. Why was it that people always just left him by himself in the middle of an important conversation? How rude!

Feeling sympathetic for himself and very unsympathetic toward the inkeeper, Al made his way to the talking twain, his empty mug in hand. He heard the end of the conversation.

"The brewer of 'such fine amber' can go be eaten by the wereworms!" he said before the newcomer could answer the last question. "All this Drew Berrybanks can make is some spittle in a jar! This brown water's not worth the mug 't's in, and the mug ain't worth 'tself either." All paused, while the other two regarded him. Al broke the silence, handing his mug to Seredic:

"Another one of those, Master Boffin!"

Even when he was as angry as a boiling kettle, Al never forgot his hobbitish common sense and courtesy.

[Mithalwen]

"I was!" said Annie earnestly, looking up at Rowan from where she still knelt on the pantry floor There was a plaintive note to her voice and a hint of bafflement in her blue eyes. "She had a poorly tail anna hurty paw and the worst toothache in the whole world -an' now she's gone".

Suddenly the little girl rocked back and huddled against the sacks and burying her face against them trying to hide the sobs that she could no longer stifle and which had little to do with the cat's departure. "Everybody goes. Nobody stays" her little voice was muffled and forlorn. Her mother could be heard just outside the open door now - remarking on the hurtling progress of Granny Whiskers across the garden. But Annie was too full of cold and misery to find solace in it. She pulled her shawl closer around her and screwed her eyes tight shut but tears still trickled down her face.

[Snowdog]

Darrell knew Drew from a brewer's convention up in Bywater a while back. Gave him a few tips, and took a few too. Good to know Drew had some pubs locked in and he didn't want to usurp his market. Dick went on,

“So you provide the Floating Log and Green Dragon with your wares? What do you sell, Mr. Largebarrel?”

Darrell smiled and replied,

"Why I make various ales as I see fit. Could make one special to this here inn if I knowed yer tastes. Some like it hoppy, some like it malty, and some, a bit of smoke peat soothes the taste."

Hearing the ramblings of of a well-inebriated hobbit. Surely he likes Drew's brews despite his words. Darrell said to Dick,

I'd not mind sellin' to ya, but it seems Dick has things well in hand here. I'll leave a couple firkins for you to serve if you see fit, and if you should want more, send a card by Shire Post to me, Darrell, general delivery at Oatbarton. I'll see about having some kegs delivered. But I don't want to cut in on Drew, though I know he does a roaring trade in the South Farthing."

Darrell thought of leaving a firkin of the Midnight Stout and the Sunset Red, thinking it would not contest with the amber that Drew has been providing.

"I'm thinking of heading east to Bree-town. but should be back in the Shire in due time. If Drew stops in, tell him I said g'day."

Darrell had the two firkins brought in, and with a nod, wished everyone a fine day. He was off to the Buckleberry Ferry. It would be a long ride.

[Mithalwen]

Elin

Elin hearing Annie's distress rushed across the kitchen to kneel by her child and draw her on to her lap.

"What is the matter, sweetheart? Did the cat scratch you?" She stroked the little girl's face brushing away her tears as she looked for evidence.

Annie shook her head vehemently and repeated her plaintive explanation. Elin pulled a wry face at the hobbit women over Annie's shoulder but managed just to remove any trace of amusement from her voice as she spoke "Don't fret... She probably only went because she felt so much better... she certainly looked in fine fettle when she went past me." her voice cracked slightly at the end and she resisted making the observation that she had never seen a cat of that size manage such a turn of speed. She stifled any further trace of mirth by planting soft kiss on her daughter's brow. Mollified a little Annie had nodded and accepted her mother's comforting.

"I am more worried about you, you still aren't very well are you my lamb?" The child's forehead had been a little too hot and her eyelids were shadowed and drowsy.

"If Iris and Primrose and Rowan don't mind shall we make a little nest for you in this lovely big basket just while I take a look at what they have on these shelves?" she laid her borrowed cloak over the rags and Annie exhausted by her tears, curled up on top wrapping the rest of the cloak over her her temporarily neglected little rabbit clasped again in her fist. "I will make you some medicine and maybe if it tastes nasty, Penny will let us have some more of that milk and honey...." Annie half nodded but sleep was already claiming her.

Elin rose and sighed suddenly a little weary herself. "Poor child, what am I doing to her?" she said to herself as much as anyone else. Then she straightened and smiled."So shall we have that tea?"

[piosenniel]

~*~ Moving this thread to Elvenhome ~*~

To day is 5/29/2015 - last post to this thread was 10-15-2012.