The Golden Perch Inn

[Firefoot]

“Very well,” said Cela finally. “He will have them.”

“Thanks, Cela,” said Dick, and he returned to the common room, leaving Cela and Primrose alone once more.

“Now,” she said, turning to Primrose. “I don’t want you harboring any notions that what you’re feeling is ‘silliness.’ Will’s a fine young hobbit, and you might do worse than him.” Cela thought she could see Primrose’s ears reddening a bit. Better Will than Tollers… spends more time dreaming than working, she thought, but kept it to herself. “But you don’t spend enough time with those your own age. When was the last time you went out and did something fun? I don’t need your help in the kitchen all the time, you know. I’m not so old as that! Master Dick shouldn’t have any problems with that, and if he does he can take them up with me.

“Oh! The bacon,” she remembered suddenly, hastening to take the sizzling meat off the hot griddle. She sniffed the air critically. “No, not burnt… next thing to it, though,” she muttered. “Next thing I’ll be sugaring the eggs instead of salting them.”

[Envinyatar]

‘Well, now . . . I been out on my own long about ten years or more I’d say.’ Jack leaned back in his chair and sipped at his ale. ‘My family had a little farm in Breeland. Grew mostly rocks. Wore my Da to the bone it did. I sure enough did not want to end up like him. Married to someone as could hardly stand him by the time they were getting on in years.’

‘Nope . . . packed up and left and never looked back. And sorry to say I’ll bet they never give a thought for where old Jack is. Ah, well . . . some folks is lucky and some just aren’t.’ He fished in one his pockets for a plain wood pipe and an old leather pouch of pipeweed. ‘Though, for my part, I do feel lucky that I’m where I am and not back on the family farm. I make my own way, on my own time. Suits me so far.’

He offered the pouch to Tollers. ‘Care for a pipeful? Longbottom Leaf, from a fellow’s farm in the Southfarthing. He didn’t bother to add he had appropriated it from the farmer’s drying shed, bypassing the actual purchase of it.

‘Say, about that fishing you mentioned. Sounds like a good thing to do on a day like this.’ He leaned forward, toward the Hobbit. ‘You got chores to do? Maybe I could lend a hand and get ‘em done faster.’ He puffed on his pipe, thinking. ‘A mess of fish, all fried up nice and crispy, would sure make a fine supper, don’t you think? Bet we could find us a little patch of mushrooms, too.’

Jack took the last swig of ale and sat the empty mug back on the table. He nodded his head thoughtfully as he considered his little plan. ‘Fishing’s more fun when you’re out with a buddy. Up to you, though.’

[Tevildo]

To have a buddy and go fishing on a gorgeous, sunny day..... Tollman's eyes gleemed with excitement as he puffed on his pipe and reflected on the prospect of slipping away to venture down to his beloved river. Still, the Innkeeper had been very clear that this was expected to be a heavy day with many travellers inquiring after rooms at the Inn. He couldn't just slip off in the morning and not show up to help with the serving at lunchtime. He would get himself in a pack of trouble.

Tollman was about to give his new companion a reluctant "no", when suddenly an enticing image flashed inside his head. It was a picture of a very large, fat fish. Tollman was standing on the small dock that stood behind the Inn's courtyard and was holding up that enormous fish, showing it off to the other hobbit lads and lasses, who grinned back at him admiringly.

That picture was not so entirely far fetched. Yesterday evening, the hobbit had been down by the great oak, not far from the Inn itself, just at the point where the river makes a bend, and he'd spied a gargantuan creature swimming about in the water. It was the largest fish that Tollman had ever witnessed, and it looked so incredibly enticing. If he was to bring back such a monstor brute for Cook to use in the kitchen, surely all would be forgiven.

"Well, Master Jack, this morning is a bit tight for me. I've promised to drag some tables and chairs into the Inn from the storage shed. After that, I have to help serve lunch. But the afternoon is another thing. It gets a little slow and sleepy in these parts after we clean up the dining room. I can usually manage to get away then, and no one will be the wiser, if you know what I mean. If you wait till then, I can get you more than a frypan of fish. I'll lead you over to a spot on the river where there's a monstor fish lurking in the shadows. He would feed an awful lot of hungry hobbits. If we can hook and net 'em, I imagine Innkeeper and Cook might be so grateful you'd earn yourself a free bed for at least a night or two."

"Anyways," Tollman added with a grin, "it's better to go after lunch because I can slip out two nice packet's full of Cela's excellent food and bring them along with us."

[Folwren]

Dick came back out of the kitchen smiling a little. He looked up at the hobbit standing at the bar and his smile widened, though inside his head, he scolded himself for having to have made him wait.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were here. What can I do you for you, sir?”

Madoc Sandybanks assured him it was no great trouble and told him what he wanted. Dick nodded and picked up a mug from beneath the bar. He turned briefly away to fill it.

“Well, here’s your ale, sir,” Dick said, putting the foaming mug onto the bar, “and the tea will be right out. Do you want any of those to have milk or sugar in them? You have two young ones perhaps that would like it?” His eyes twinkled as he gave him a knowing smile. His quick eye had caught the two young hobbits already - one sitting at the table with a young mother, and the other standing by old Griffo’s chair, looking deeply interested in the chess game the old gaffer played with himself.

[Forest Elf]

Gable was walking down the road, wearing boys clothes and her arrows and short bow strung over her shoulder. Gable held a lead rope to an injured pony. Her hair, that had been neatly braided before sun up, was a mess, twigs were caught in it and stray strands of hair blowing in the wind, a blob of bloody mud showed on her cheek, when the pony had reared.

Gable felt proud, her heart soaring and yet she needed to get to the stables and find Will, to get the pony nursed back to health. She moved as fast as she could along the road, with a limping pony.

She could finnally see the stables, she moved along with the pony a little faster and when she saw Will standing there with Marrigold, Gable cried out, "Will! I have a pony that needs looking after, can you take a look at her?" indicating the pony's right bloody front leg and her bloody side.

[Arry]

Will had put away the comb and brush and was just taking the nosebag off Marigold when Gable walked into the stable doorway. He stepped from the stall and fastened it carefully behind him.

‘Oh! What’s happened?’ he said, his brow furrowing as he looked from Gable’s bloody cheek to the pony she was leading. It was in worse shape than the Elf. Its front leg, on the right, was bloody. And it had blood along its flank, too. Will took the lead and brought the pony further into the stable.

He asked Gable to get some of the clean, soft rags piled in the basket by the work table and a bucket of fresh water. As she did so, he talked quietly to the pony, getting it to calm itself down.

‘Here, lass,’ he said, handing the lead back to the Elf. ‘You talk nice and calmly to her, won’t you. Keep her attention on you.’ He dipped a wadded rag into the water and began to gently wash down the pony’s leg, feeling his way along the bones and muscles as he did so.

‘How did this happen to her?’ he asked Gable as his fingers gently probed for any broken bones. ‘Did some beast attack her?’

[Folwren]

Dick returned to the kitchen briefly to tell Cella to make tea and then went back out. He cast a quick glance around, noting who was there and who all had been served. Once he was satisfied that everyone had at least something to eat or drink and looked satisfied, he left his post and made his way across to where Griffo and the young Sandybanks boy sat together.

For a moment, he stood back away from the two, watching with keen interested as the old hobbit explained to the young one how the pieces moved.

“Now you see here, laddie,” Griffo was explaining. His old, age dotted hands picked up the handsomely carved horse, “this here is a knight. He can forward two spaces and then to the right and the left one space. See that?”

“You took him to the left,” Taffy said, leaning over the board.

“You can move him any direction,” Griffo said, nodding. Dick grinned and walked towards them the last few paces.

“Good morning, Griffo!” he said, patting the old hobbit on the shoulder. “How’s the game coming this morning? I see you have a young apprentice,” he added, smiling kindly at Taffy. “Is he learning quick?”

[Forest Elf]

"You know how I like adventures and such, and I was off to find one of my oun. I was walking down the road and saw her, she was being attacked by wolf, I killed the wolf and brought her back here. . .I just wish I could've found her owner." Gable said softly, stroking the pony's muzzle.

"She still had her saddle on, but I had to take that off, it was too torn to keep and there was some of a cape stuck to the saddle. . ." Gable said, a look of sadness swept over her face for a second.

Gable watched Will finish checking the pony's injured leg, while stroking the side of the pony's neck.

[Undómë]

‘I think it's a perfect idea,’ Primrose answered. ‘Saves Will some trouble. And . . . and it's a chance to bother him about the plan. It would spoil the fun to dream up our plots and then not have him go along with the game, wouldn't it?’

‘Well, well . . .’ thought Rowan, noting the slight nervous edge to the giggle which accompanied the words. As the middle child in her parents’ brood, she had gotten quite good at reading those subtle signs and assigning some sort of meaning to them. For the most part, at least with her own family, she could be quite accurate with her assessments.

Primrose, though a friend and fellow worker, might not be as easy to read, she cautioned herself. On the one hand, Prim could be outgoing and even boisterous at times. And she was what her Gran would call a flighty lass. But this sort of new . . . shyness, she called it for want of a better word was a new development. Rowan tapped the ball of her right foot softly on the floor; an unthinking habit of hers when she was puzzling something out.

An idea dawned; one which both surprised and delighted her. The ‘game’ with Will, as Primrose had called it, suddenly took on a new focus for Rowan. It was only a game to her; she and Will were friends, indeed, but nothing beyond that in the slightest. With fresh eyes she took stock of her friend, Prim . . . looking beyond the flour dusted apron and the cheeks reddened by the heat of the oven.

‘My, my, my . . .’ she murmured, then looked away guiltily. Rowan covered her actions with an exasperated sigh. ‘You know . . . I just recalled that once I’ve finished changing the linens and tidying up, I did promise Granny Bracken I would help her turn the first of the strawberries into jam. I can’t stand her up; she’s been out early this morning I’m sure to pick them.’

She looked pleadingly toward Primrose. ‘Can you make some time to . . . well, start the game and deliver Will a basket of food?’ Rowan looked over towards Cela, too. ‘That’ll be alright, won’t it? You can spare her for a little bit, can’t you?’

[Tevildo]

"A bit of a kip, is it? Well, you're welcome to use my room, and it won't cost you a penny. The bed would be a tight fit but you can pull the coverlet onto the floor where there's a nice sheepskin rug that will do just as well as any mattress. Mind your head with the beams, and you'll do perfectly fine. The room's not locked. You'll have no trouble getting in."

Tollers stood up and wagged his finger in the direction of the fireplace, indicating to Jack that he should follow the twisting corridor that branched off at that point. He went on to explain, "That hall leads deep inside the hill. Plenty of rooms for hobbits, and also the pantries, supply rooms, and wine cellar. My room is the last one on the right just before the cellar where the beer barrels are stored. Now, I'm afraid I'll have to run. I am already behind in my work."

Tollers waved a cheery hand and sprinted off towards the kitchen where he was supposed to be washing dishes. He turned around one last time and called out to Jack, "There's cheese and biscuits in the locker at the foot of my bed. The table's a bit cluttered. I was counting out my pay last night. Just sweep the pennies into my leather pouch along with all the others and stuff the bag under my bed. That way, you'll have a nice, clear space if you decide to eat a little snack." With that final suggestion, Tollers ducked inside the kitchen and was lost from sight.

[Folwren]

Dick set down two brimming mugs of ale before two of his guests, smiling his broadest. He turned away from them, wiping his hands on a towel he had picked up on his way. His eyes scanned the people in the common room, making sure everyone had everything they needed. The sweeping gaze stopped on the disappearing figure of a man slinking back through the door into the corridor running into the hill. His smile faded slowly and his eyes narrowed.

Who was that and where did he think he was going? Dick took a few steps forward. In the doorway, Jack turned his head half way over his shoulder to look back. Dick recognized the man in an instant as the one he had served earlier – the rough, tired looking figure. He had sat with Tollers and eaten, more than likely, most of the massive breakfast that young hobbit had brought out. Dick looked quickly about for Tollers, but seeing him now where, decided that he had better go see what the stranger was about.

The innkeeper threaded his way swiftly around the tables and ran the last few paces to the doorway. He stopped just inside for fear of running unexpectedly into the man.

“Hold up, sir!” he called out. “Wait a moment! Where are you going?”

[Tevildo]

Tollers hurried out to the old shed that was attached to the back of the stables, and began dragging a piece of furniture back inside the inn, just as he'd been told to do. There were a number of chairs and tables to be shifted, good sized items that were meant to furnish the rooms rented out to some of the Big Folk.

After just one trip in and out of the inn, he decided he needed a little rest and a break for second breakfast. He immediately plunked down on the ground in front of the Inn, and reached inside his back pocket, taking out a napkin and spreading it on his lap. Reaching into the side pocket of his vest, he took out two fat biscuits, both a bit squashed but still quite edible. As Tollers ate, he hummed a happy tune and glanced intermittently across the road in the direction of the river, calculating the number of hours it would be until he could slip away with Jack to catch some fish.

When he finished the biscuits, he licked his fingers and then leaned back, closed his eyes, and began dreaming about his little boat that was tied up just a short walk down the left riverbank. The sun shone warm onto the hobbit's face and pleasant images of large perch danced magically inside his head. Before long, Tollers was fast asleep, totally quiet except for letting out an occasional snore.

[Folwren]

Dick listened to Jack’s explanation - surprised, at first, and dumbfounded by the end of it.

“He said the fishin’s good roundabout here,” Jack stated with simplicity. “And we might be able to come back with enough for a tasty fry-up for us all for the evening.”

“Fishing?” Dick ejaculated as soon as Jack became silent. “Fishing! That young scoundrel told you that he’d go off fishing with you this afternoon?” The question didn’t appear to need an answer. Jack said nothing and Dick didn’t either, for a moment. He stood, frowning and gnawing at his lower lip. “So that’s where the lad goes off to all the time. . .fishing. . .I might have guessed,” he grumbled to himself. “Well, see here, Mister,” he went on, addressing the Man, “I don’t see why you should be going to a hobbits’ room to sleep. You wouldn’t fit on Tollers’ bed if it were twice as long as it is now. You come along with me and I’ll show you to another room. Never mind the pay. You certainly look like you need a few winks. We’ll find some way for you to repay me by.

“As for fishing,” he said, still not moving anywhere, “I’ll have to talk to Tollers about that. We’ll see if his work is done and then I’ll decide if he’s going anywhere. Come along, sir.” He turned and began to lead Jack out of the corridor again.

[Folwren]

“What a bright and wonderful day it is!” Lilly Boffin said, her voice just as light and bright as the morning she admired. She pulled the small pinafore over her youngest daughter’s head and buttoned her up the back. “Your Papi is probably hard at work already.”

“Do we get to go see him, Mum?” the little hobbit girl asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on the mattress. “I can’t wait to see him! He’s the inn-lord all by himself!”

“Hardly a lord, my darling,” Lilly responded, placing a hand on her shoulder to make her stand still. She tied the strings in back and then picked up a comb for the curly hair.

“A king then!” the child squealed excitedly. Lilly laughed and didn’t object this time.

“Mum? I can’t get this button done up.” Lilly looked down as the other twin walked towards her. A frown of frustration marred his face as his little, clumsy fingers struggled over and over with an errant button that refused to be shoved through the wrong button hole. Lilly smiled gently.

“Wait a moment, Dorlind. Let me finished Daisy’s hair and then I’ll button you up.” The little chap dropped his hands and crawled up onto the bed. He sat by, his hands folded in his lap as he watched Lilly do up Daisy’s hair. “Once we’re ready, we’ll go over to see your Papi,” Lilly said, combing the last bit of hair. “And we’ll see how everyone at the inn is doing.”

“Mrs. Brandybuck promised me a biscuit with butter and jelly on it!” Daisy said with excitement.

“And same to me, too!” Dorlind cried, his frown forgotten. Lilly nodded as she buttoned him up. He had done nearly everyone incorrectly, so she had to undo almost his entire shirt before buttoning the one he had originally come to her for help on. “Will she still have biscuits, Mum? It’s kinda late.”

“She’ll have biscuits in plenty,” Lilly replied. She picked up her shawl and put it around her shoulders and then gave Dorlind his jacket, and Daisy her little cape. Then she took both their hands and the three went out together.

Their home was situation just beside the inn. Lilly had decided long ago that she didn’t want to raise a family inside the inn itself. Too many strangers and unpredictable characters came through that place. She didn’t like the idea of always having to be careful every time a new face appeared. She spent as much time as she could spare at the inn, sitting in the kitchen or out in the common room, depending who was there and who wasn’t. When she could, she took her knitting and sewing over and traded talk with Cela and Primrose in the kitchen, and sometimes other women at the tables outside. Generally, she did not go in the morning, for there was work at home to be seen to, and the children had to be taught. But this was a special occasion, and those things could be postponed for once.

Lilly led her children around the to side door and entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Cela! Good morning, Primrose!”

Her two youngest chimed in with the merry greeting, accompanying it with broad, unshy smiles. “Hello, Mrs. Brandybuck! Hi, Primrose! Do you have biscuits this morning?”

[Firefoot]

“You’re certainly welcome, Primrose,” said Cela as she took another batch of hot biscuits off the fire. Then the side door opened to admit Lilly, Daisy, and Dorlind Boffin and their chorus of greetings. Grateful for the distraction from Gable’s “wolves,” Cela greeted them warmly. “Good morning to you, Lilly. You’re here early this morning.”

“It’s a special day, after all,” answered Lilly.

“Of course.” Cela turned to the two youngsters. “So it’s biscuits you’re wanting, is it? What if I told you we ate them all, and there weren’t any left for the two of you?” she asked with a completely straight face.

The disappointment on their faces was almost comical. “But Mum said…” Dorlind trailed off as his sister interjected, “But you promised me-” Then she spotted the fresh biscuits sitting on the countertop. “No, you didn’t! I see them, right there!”

“So there are! I guess we didn’t eat all of them after all,” said Cela with a smile, loading some onto a plate for them. “Be careful; they’re hot. Nice and fresh, just for you two. Eat up!”

[Undómë]

‘There'll come trouble from that fellow, mark my words.’ Meliot told Rowan. ‘But who is he, anyway? Do you know him? Where does he come from?’

‘Out of the dustbin, if you ask me,’ Rowan said. She was thinking of the nice clean room Master Boffin had just take the man to. Only this morning she’d swept and dusted it. The linen was all clean, too. As was the freshly laundered quilt she’d put on the bed. She cringed at the thought of the dirty man lying down on her clean bed. Would he even appreciate the fact the sheets were nice and soft and smelt of lavender from cook’s garden, she wondered.

She made up her mind to make sure the new ‘guest’ had water and soap with which to clean up and plenty of towels. She’d even see if he would let her launder his clothes. ‘I’m sure there are some clothes in the attic, left by some guest, that might fit the fellow,’ she murmured to herself.

Rowan did not really want to deal with the man by herself. He just looked a little too rough for her. She got up from her chair and turned hopefully to Meliot. ‘You want to come with me? We can see what’s what about him.’ She began to hatch her plan to Meliot. ‘I’ll just bet he’d like a nice hot bath. We can take him down to the washroom, where the tub is and such. Then one of us could keep watch for him, while the other . . . well, sort of ‘tidies’ up in his room. I’m sure he’s up to no good, too.’ She looked expectantly at Meliot. ‘So, what do you say?’

[Dimturiel]

Meliot laughed hearing Rowan's plan. She got up, her eyes blazing with the mirth that was inside her. "Tidying" the man's room! Not a very respectable thing to be done, but in this way the more appealing it was.

"Why, let us go then." she said, her head already full with images of intriguing objects that they could find in that room. She did feel a little uncomfortable, for the man was more than twice her size, and also because she did not like to think what would happen if she were caught prying into a stranger's room. But her inquisitive nature drove all thoughts of fear and humiliation away from her head. She was ready to do anything, if it promised the discovery of something intresting.

"But I have one more question before starting off," she said. "Which of us shall keep guard?"

[piosenniel]

Hithadan turned his attention to Rhys. ‘How long will you be staying at the Perch?’ he asked.

‘Off and on, I think, for about a month or so,’ Rhys replied. ‘We had planned to make it a sort of base for us.’ He glanced toward his sister as she nodded. ‘We’re planning on heading for Breeland and points north and west, too, I think. We’ll need a place to send back samples of our wares to Father. And the river of course, being so near to the Perch, is ideal for that.’ He poured a little more ale in his mug. ‘Now you said you had some news of Bree and the way there. What was it your friend told you?’

‘How about we let Master Hithadan finish his meal, Rhys?’ Tanni said, laying her hand on her brother's arm. She picked up Hithadan's fork and took a small bite. ‘Gah!! It’s cold!’

Tanni motioned for one of the servers to come near. ‘Please, can you bring us all some food.’ She smiled at the server as she handed over Hithadan’s plate. ‘We took him prisoner with our conversation,’ she said in explanation. ‘And I’m afraid the eggs have gone cold.’

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor entered quietly, and limped toward the most inconspicuous table by the far wall. He was not the type of person that warranted anything more than a cursory glance as he passed by. The days being what they were, evil and dangerous, surely the sight of travellers armed to the teeth must be a common occurrence in this inn. And he was hardly of the build that inspired fear in others. Slender and willowy, almost to the point of boyhood, he looked more like a serious lad in his late teens than an experienced swordsman and mercenary who has seen close on thirty winters.

He was clad in a chain-mail of tarnished silver, black woollen breeches, and mudstained leather boots that bespoke of a long and weary journey; his cloak boasted bloodstains as well as mud. His own blood, if his occasional winces and heavy limp could be trusted. Nevertheless it seemed as if he was not too keen on drawing notice to himself. That faithless cur, to betray him like this...

"Miss?" He called to the elven woman nearby, perhaps mistaking her for the serving staff. "Do you have any of those sickeningly sweet dwarven ale available, and if so, could you bring me a tankard? And some fresh bandages to dress my wounds, if you have any? It's nothing serious, I..."

He began coughing blood.

[Mithalwen]

Conversation between the elves had faded after the slight awkwardness of their interaction with Amadi and each gave their attention to their meal. Mithalwen had let her thoughts wander the path of her long memory until the new voice brought her back to the present - she wasn't sure he addressed her, but one glance was enough to tell her that he needed help and urgently.

In a moment she was at his side, later she might wonder at a mailshirt worn in the peaceable Shire but for now the blood that flecked his pale face held her attention fully. She rued that she had little leechcraft - there were those in Mithlond that did though there was not much call for it save for the odd accident or the succour of mortals in the area. Mithalwen thought bitterly that she could repair wood or metal but faced with an injury more serious than a scrape or minor burn she was at a loss.

She guided the warrior to a seat and called to her companions to seek help.

[Lilly]

‘M'dear wife will have cream and sugar, if you would,’ said Madoc, raising his half pint to the Innkeeper. He took a deep drink and sighed quite contentedly as he set the half empty mug back on the countertop. ‘My stars! That is surely as sweet and satisfying as a wind from the West.’ He tapped his finger on the rim of his mug, indicating he’d like it topped off.

‘Ah, yes, the tea. Taffy’s fond of lump sugar. Boy saw his uncle grab a small lump between his front teeth and sip his tea through it. And the wee one, Seren, she fancies honey in hers.’

Madoc watched as the server brought out another platter stacked with plates of eggs, bacon, and baskets of biscuits. His stomach began to rumble fiercely. Think I’d best be getting back to the table. That breakfast looks might good. Can’t wait to tuck into it.’ He fished into the side pocket of his vest and brought out his coin purse. ‘This should do it,’ he said, pushing a number of small coins across the counter top.

He lifted his mug to the Innkeeper, and then made his way through the aisles between the tables to his own.

[Envinyatar]

The pair of new faces in the doorway caught his attention. Hithadan looked over the two as they entered. A striking couple, he thought. And at ease in the room as if they had been here before and knew the inn well. He cast his eyes back down to his plate and plied his fork and knife as the woman gazed his way. Sizing him up, it seemed.

It cannot be for my purse. he chuckled to himself, scooping a forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth. Nor the elegance of my company . . . he continued, picking a piece of egg that had escaped his fork up from the table. He popped the truant morsel in his mouth, chuckling again.

Whatever it was, in a matter of moments, the woman had come up to his table. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ she said, as she reached the table and placing her hands on the back of the empty chair to the left of him, she gave him a pretty smile. ‘My brother and I have just been traveling, up from Sarn Ford. Might we sit with you to break our fast.....and perhaps share in any word you have of happenings along the road to Bree?’

‘Company would be most welcome!’ The Ranger stood and pulled out the chair for her, bidding her to sit if she would. ‘Hithadan, here, m’lady,’ he said nodding to her as he sat back down. He pushed his plate to the side, and brought his mug of tea into the circle of his hands. ‘I do know a little of the way to Bree. A friend of mine was just recently there and gave me news of recent happenings.’ He sat back comfortable in his chair, looking her over openly as he sipped from his mug. ‘It’s a long way from the Ford to Breeland. Might I ask what you . . . and your brother, is it . . . are doing on your travels?’

[Forest Elf]

Gable just finished mucking out the last stall and leading the pony to the stall. “There you are, boy. How’s a nice and clean stall sound to you?” Gable asked the pony, taking off his bridle.

She hung the bridle and walked into the Inn, and over heard Primrose and Will talking about having a rest. Gable walked to her room and changed into her mother’s dress, one that she’d never worn out of her room before, and one that she kept secret. It was the only dress, and the most beautiful, in Gable’s eyes, from her mother’s wardrobe.

She walked over to her dresser and opened up the upper drawer, a little too high for any hobbit to reach without standing on something. Gable reached in and pulled out her father’s shirt, and hugged it. She missed them both so much, and her foster parent’s. She was allowed to keep a two hat’s from them after they died one from her foster-father, and one from her foster-mother.

Gable carefully placed the hats’ and shirt back into the drawer, and changed into a dress that she’d gotten, here in the shire, and folded her mother’s dress carefully, and placed the soft blue gown into the drawer, atop of her father’s shirt.

She took off her boots and put on a pair of elf girl’s shoes. Then unbraided her hair and brushed it out. Letting it go long, as she didn’t do so often. She headed back down stairs to see if any help was wanted.

[Tevildo]

"Actually, we won't be fishing in the Baranduin, Jack. I'd love to go down to the big river but there's not enough time today. The Stockbrook cuts through the southern portion of the village and runs just across the road from the Inn. Plus, it has a good supply of brown trout along with lots of other fish."

It took only a few minutes of walking until they arrived at the bank of the small river. They walked downstream a few paces. Ahead of them, they could glimpse a bend in the river where a large tree grew with low hanging bows. Tied to one of these boughs was a small grey boat with two oars, just large enough to carry a hobbit and a man.

"She's my beauty," beamed Tollers, with obvious pride. '"I call her "The Brandy". Tollers paused a minute and then went on in a voice tinged with some regret, "Still, I only putter about in the waters near Stock. You know, Jack, you're a lucky fellow. From the sound of it, you've been all over. Unfortunately, I've been nowhere at all. They say that this river begins in the forests above Woody End, and flows through the Marish until it comes here. If you walk a bit further upstream, you'll see where it empties into the Baranduin, a few miles north of Bucklebury Ferry. I guess you must have come by way of the ferry to get to the Shire. From there, the Baranduin runs south for a long, long way. Some folk even claim it goes all the way to the Sea, but I couldn't say for sure one way or the other."

Tollers confessed, "I've only been to Woody End once and, as for the Sea, I've never even seen it. I'm ashamed to say, but I haven't even been to Bree. Maybe someday, you and I can travel together to Bree, and I could meet your friends, and family, and such."

Bu that time, they had reached the boat. Tollers squatted down and took out two poles, each with a line, a sinker, a float, and a small hook attached. "Alright, now, no use wasting time on regrets. Take whichever one you like, then we'll get inside and row a bit upstream to a place I know that's wonderful for fish. Nice, deep, shady waters. They love to go there in the late afternoon."

[Lilly]

There had been ‘The Nap’. Mother insisted on it each day. Seren, of course, slept, as she was just five. Taffy was allowed to sit on his bed for a space of time, quietly engaging in some occupation. Drawing perhaps, or reading the little chapbook his Uncle had given him – Wild tales of animals who could talk and how they helped or tricked or bested the Hobbit characters depending on what the story was.

He like the one best about the fiery colored dragon. It made him shiver at the thought of those teeth and claws and flaming breath. But he liked how smart the old worm was and how he could trick people just using their own words against them.

And now naptime was over. They’d had a nice cold glass of cider each, and a fat jam sandwich from the kitchen. Something to tide them over ‘til supper. Taffy was sent out to the front lawn to supervise his sister. And he thanked his lucky stars that the two children of the Innkeeper, Daisy and Dorlind, had come out to play, too, keeping her company. A quick game of tag was organized and Taffy played for a bit, then left the three to their own devices as he sat on the bottom step of the inn. He’d been thinking about that dragon he’d read about. There had been a small drawing penned along the edge of the page, giving the author’s idea of what the great beast looked like.

Taffy hauled a nice little block of soft wood from his pocket and fetched out his whittling knife. He turned the piece of wood over and over, considering it from all sides. And when he’d got the feeling for the flow of the grain, he began to rough out the dragon’s shape.