The Golden Perch Inn

[Durelin]

Griffo had just rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and said good morning to his sheep when he decided to make his way to the Golden Perch Inn for some kind of breakfast. And he figured he'd stay for second breakfast, and perhaps elevenses, and maybe... Who am I kiddin'? I've got nowhere better to go. And he hadn't for six years now. Melilot had kept him busy at home and elsewhere, and now that she was gone, he tried to make himself busy as best he could. And that didn't work very well. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he didn't really try.

Swinging open the door to the Golden Perch, Griffo adjusted his vest, suddenly realizing he was not sure when the last time he had washed it was. He always came up with and excuse for not doing so, reminding himself that he normally only wore his shirt. His two vests were the only nice clothes he owned anymore. Melilot had always made nice things for him. And he had always managed to ruin them. She always laughed when he brought her a vest that had split down the back, though, or anything of the like. She always joked about how it seemed as if she had eight children to take care of, not just seven. Just... Griffo's lips twisted into a soft smile. There were some very fond memories of the two trying to take care of seven children.

The hobbit stepped into the common room, the smile on his face, to see that there were two men already inside, one seated in a corner, the other up at the bar. It was a little strange. Normally Griffo was the first patron to arrive that was not in a room there when he went for a bit of breakfast. He could hear noise coming from the kitchen, and knew that the food he desired was soon to be prepared, if Cela and Primrose hadn't already started on it.

The inn workers were eating, using their brief time in the morning to gather up their strength for a long days work ahead. Griffo always let them be, and waited to be given a mug and a bit of toast whenever anyone had a moment to give it to him. He had all day. And so he simply took a seat at a small table close to the bar after he grabbed the chess board from by the fireplace. Eyeing the two men with interest, he set up the board for a game.

[Tevildo]

Tollman had been sitting by himself in the corner, trying to come up with an excuse so that he could leave behind his duties at the Inn and slip down to the river to throw in a hook and line or perhaps even take out his little boat. So far he had not had any luck. The Innkeeper was a good hobbit, but no fool when it came to malingering. On more than one occasion, Master Boffin had spoken to him about the need to be more attentive to his work.

With a sigh, the young hobbit pushed his mug to the side and trudged up to the front to retrieve another plate of biscuits. The one thing about working in the Inn is that you were definitely well fed. At least there was that consolation, even when he couldn't think of a good excuse to go down and fish. Moreover, today was expected to be especially busy. There were a number of markets in nearby towns, and they'd been warned that the Inn traffic would likely be heavy with many coming into the area with plans to show their wares.

Striding up to the counter, Tolman noticed a newcomer to the Inn, one of the Big Folk who wore a travel stained tunic and breeches. Tollers was ever an affable young lad and, once he heard that the poor fellow would be going without a proper breakfast for lack of money, he could not help but feel some sympathy. The fact that the man's clothing was dirty and askew did not bother Tollman in the slightest. His own father had often berated his young hobbit son that his shirt and breeches were full of stains Plus, this poor stranger was so large that the young hobbit guessed it must be particularly painful for him if his stomach was empty. In Toller's eyes, a large empty stomach could only equate to a very large belly ache.

Leaning over to the stranger, the hobbit tugged insistently at the top of his breeches. "Once you finish your dealings with Master Boffin, you are welcome to come join me at the table. I've a large plate of biscuits and, if you can give me some news of the outside world, you're welcome to share my food."

With that, the young hobbit slid behind the counter and went into the kitchen, purloining a heaping plate of biscuits along with a pot of honey and another of jam. Seeing that no one seemed to have his eye on him, Tollman slid his hand deep into one of the pans and came up with two handsome slabs of ham, which he placed on top of his pile of biscuits. If he couldn't go fishing, at least he could take an extended first breakfast!

[Arry]

Well now this was getting a bit too close for comfort! Cook had certainly offered some good suggestions for several of his problems . . . but Primrose and Rowan? He could feel his neck getting rather warm beneath the collar of his tunic and he knew if he didn’t leave soon the tips of his ears would be glowing like coals.

Will broke open several biscuits and shoveled the rest of his eggs onto them along with some crispy bacon he’d broke into bits. He wrapped the little sandwiches up in his napkin, tying it off with a knot. And all the while saying how he needed to be getting back to the stable . . . one of the horses had a stone bruise needed seeing to and another he’d wrapped with a cool compress to take down the swelling in one of the leg joints. And the roof . . . he’d discovered a few rotten shingles and he need to be repairing that section . . . take all day he thought . . .

He said his thanks to Cook, nodding to her, as he hurried out the kitchen door, mug of tea in one hand, the packet of biscuits in the other. Primrose and Rowan he studiously avoided, his attention being taken up in the study of the wood grain on kitchen floor as he made his way to the exit.

As the door swung shut behind him he was certain he heard some laughter and giggling escaping after him. Now his ears were indeed burning!

Land’s sake! Rowan and Primrose to play the part of his “possibles” for mum? Primrose! Rowan! Good gravy! They were Perch workers, just like him . . . he didn’t even think of them as, well . . . girls!

He fled to the safety of the barn and the ponies . . .

[Undómë]

Rowan had laughed at Will’s predicament and found Cook’s solution amusing, too. Especially since it had caused the poor fellow to light up like a glowbug. Luckily her own mother had her younger sister and brother to see to and keep a firm hand on. And so, had left Rowan to run her own life. At least for now. In three years she would come of age, just as Will would be doing next year. And she was sure her mother’s thoughts would then be bent on her. The lady loved babies! There was no getting round that fact. And in lieu of having any more of her own, she was quite happy to settle for grandbabies.

Well, why worry about such things when they haven’t come knocking at your door yet, Rowan! she told herself

She finished the rest of her eggs, then chewed thoughtfully on the last strip of bacon. A final swallow of tea and she was up, scraping her plate into the bucket before piling it in the sink with some of the other dishes. She thought she could hear the sound of the door to the rooms’ hallway opening and closing as the guests made their way into the common room for breakfast.

‘Best load up some platters of bacon and eggs, Prim,’ she called to Primrose, as she got down one of the big serving trays. She took several baskets of hot biscuits, too. Saying she would be back shortly for the teapots. Plates, cups, and utensils and pots of honey, jam, and butter had already gone out to the tables earlier that morning.

She was thinking about Cook’s suggestion; wondering if it were even possible to pull off such a thing. It might be quite fun actually, she thought. Though, she considered, too, how angry his mother might be if she found out the truth. And sad, too, that her son would play such a prank on her.

Hmmm . . . I guess I could do it if Will’s alright with it. She was a bit unclear that he actually approved of Cook’s plan. Perhaps Cook would talk more with him and get it all settled. It was a subject she thought she ought not to approach with him on her own. It felt a little too slippy-slidey.

She hoisted the serving tray up on her shoulder supporting it with her hand beneath it. It was a source of pride to her that she’d become quite the expert at balancing such loads these last two years.

Rowan nodded to Primrose as she turned to go out to the common room. On an impulse, she gave the woman and impish grin and gave her a challenging look.

‘Fight you for him! Tooth and nail!’ She winked at her friend. ‘And may the best flower from the garden win!' Rowan laughed merrily as she sailed out into crowd of hungry guests.

Might as well start practicing! I’m sure Cook’ll convince him how good her plan is.

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan waited patiently until the server passed nearer to him. He smiled a little watching her work her way about the room. All smiles and deft hands as she placed the platters of food before the hungry guests.

He glanced toward the man at the counter. One of the other servers from the inn had spoken briefly with him. Tolman . . . the encounter seemed innocent enough. Still he would see what business the lad had with the raggedy man.

‘Little mistress!’ he called gently as Rowan drew near. He raised his hand to her as she turned toward him. ‘Something to break my fast and a mug of strong tea, if you please.’

[Undómë]

'Eggs it is, today, Master Hithadan. And bacon. though I think Cook could be persuaded to cook a bit of ham for you. And Primrose's lovely biscuits with the last of summer's jam.' She put a generous plate of food before him.

Rowan furrowed her brow as she gave him a mug. 'Now you're sure it's tea today and not some ale or wine?' She waited for him to consider the offer. Well, then tea it will be,' she grinned. She made her way back to the kitchen for a pot of steaming tea.

'And here's a pot of honey to sweeten it,' she said, putting the pot on his table. 'From Granny Greenhill's bees. Clover and apple tree flowers she said. Very tasty. I can vouch for it!'

Her serving tray was empty and she rested it on the ground, leaning it in against her leg. 'And what brings you to Stock these days,' she asked, topping off his mug with a bit more tea. 'Haven't seen you in quite a while. What brings you round this time, if you don't mind my asking?'

It was a question she always asked of him, hoping that one day he might actually satisfy her curiosity.

[Lilly]

Marigold’s brown ears twitched at the words from her owner. Her nose twitched, too, smelling the enticing scent of fresh hay and oats borne on the early morning breezes. Behind her, she could hear the goats making excited little noises. Marigold snorted. They wanted her to hurry up, get the cart closer to the source of the good smells. Well, why don’t they just come up and pull this thing along for a while she humphed to herself. The sturdy little pony put her strength into the pulling of the cart and hurried the family and the hanger-on goats along at a faster clip.

‘Whoa up there, Mari!’ called Madoc, bringing his cart to a halt in front of the stable. He stepped down, helping Lila and the children from the cart. Arrangements were made with the stableman for the care of Marigold and the two nannies to the satisfaction of Madoc. Then he bid the man good day and took his family into the inn.

‘Just find us . . .’ Madoc began, holding the door open as his wife and brood passed through.

‘. . . a good table. Yes, my dear! And you see to something hot to drink if you will.’ Lila smiled at him, nodding as he entered. She saw his brow raise in question. ‘Yes, get yourself an ale. But tea, please, for me, and for the little ones.’

Young Taffy rolled his eyes at “the little ones” from his mother. He dearly loved his little sister Seren, but geeze! He was after all eleven and she just five. She really was the ‘little one’.

He’d had enough of sitting, in the cart. So he stood for a while by the chair his mother had appointed him. His eyes roamed around the room taking it all in. There were two of the Big Folk in the common room. Both dressed a little raggedy by his determination. He wondered if either lived out in the wild. Big Folk were not all that common where he lived, and there were many stories he and his mates told each other of the great, tall men who lived rough and lived dangerously. He shivered a little, his eyes darting away from the both of them.

Hmmmm! Over there by the bar sat a very old gaffer. And he seemed to be playing with some little carved figures on a board on the tabletop. Taffy played checkers with his own Granpa at home and enjoyed it very much. He sidled up quietly by the gaffer to see what sort of game he was playing. It looked like a checkerboard from what he could see.

‘Is that a new kind of checkers, sir?’ he asked without thinking. He came to the edge of the table. ‘Oh, look! You’ve put your players on the red and the black squares! Is this how they play it in Stock?’