The Golden Perch Inn

[Folwren]

Dick and Tollers helped Primrose to her feet and then guided her arms around Tollers’ neck and Cela’s. Between them, she limped inside, Lilly coming after them. Dick turned to Will who had struggled up to his feet, looking ill and disoriented. More than anything, Dick wanted to find out what had happened, but it was instantly clear to him that it would do little good asking Will just now.

“See to Prim; I’ll be alright,” Will said. Dick stepped closer as the young hobbit took a couple unsteady steps forward. He held his arm up against his chest and his face was twisted with pain. Dick set a steadying hand on the lad’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, Will, she’s in good hands. You need help, too, you know. You don’t think I’d leave you here alone, do you? Now just hold on a minute until you get your bearings a’right. . .how do you feel, Will? Can you see alright? And your arm hurts, doesn’t it? You must’ve taken a nasty fall. Easy does it, lad,” he found himself speaking to him like he would one of his own boys. Will’s walking was unsteady and more and more Dick saw that if his arm was in pain, it was in a lot of pain. “Sit down for a moment, Will,” he said, deciding it’d be better to stop before he fell again. “You just wait. I’ll get some water for you and then maybe some ice for your arm, at least to numb the pain until a healer gets here. Will you sit?”

[Arry]

The sound of the Innkeepers voice kept hammering at him; ratcheting up his headache yet another notch. Will held out his right hand, palm forward, shaking it a little as if to say ‘enough’.

‘Sit down for a moment, Will.’ He heard Master Boffin say. Will was about to say, ‘no’; that he would make it to the inn on his own. But his legs betrayed him; folding beneath him like two great, limp noodles. He sat down hard on his hind end, sending a stream of stars caroming behind his eyes.

‘Water, yes,’ he managed in response to the innkeeper’s offer. ‘I’ll just wait right here…’

[Folwren]

Dick hurried off towards the kitchen door as fast as his legs could carry him. When he entered, he found Primrose sitting beside the table, her leg sticking out in front of her, twisted to one side. It was definitely broken. Cela, Lilly, and Tollers stood about, looking as though they didn’t quite know what to do.

“Tollers, run off and get Mr. Torbias, down Willow Grove. Cela, do you have anything that will ease pain? Lilly, you go find Rowan. There are still people outside there who don’t know what’s going on and don’t need it explained to them - they just need to be served. Will is outside, I’m getting him water. In a moment, he’ll able enough to come inside.”

He filled a cup while speaking and then headed for the door again. Outside, he poked his head back within. “Cela, ice would probably be a good thing if you have any on hand. . .at least for Will. I don’t know if the arm or wrist is broken or what.” He hurried on back to Will. Kneeling beside him, he reached for his right hand (the uninjured one), and pressed the cup into it. “Here you go, Will,” he said, softening his voice. “Take it easy. Tell me when you can walk and I’ll help you inside.”

--------

Lilly Finds Rowan

Lilly went out of the kitchen and into the Common Room in search of Rowan. To her surprise, she saw her there, but leaving it, going back towards the Big People part of the inn. A sharp glance around showed her that her two youngest were speaking with a hobbit lass no older than they. She didn’t recognize the girl, but she didn’t mind. She did wonder, however, how they suddenly got into a conversation with her when they had originally gone off in search of Rowan.

Her eyes darted back towards Rowan just in time to see her disappear through the door. Lilly quickly crossed the room and followed her. She called her name as she came through the door. Rowan turned towards her quickly, a look of surprise on her face.

“Come along, girl, what are you doing?” Lilly asked, only a little sharply. “Dick’s in sore need of you this morning and you seem to be no where to be found!”

[Forest Elf]

Gable was in the corner of the kitchen, looking at everyone else who was busy helping out, making her feel useless. Her thoughts on the pony had vanished and turned into worry for Will and Primrose.

“Is there anything that I can do to help Will and Primrose?” Gable asked, hoping not to be left watching from the sidelines. She took a step away from the corner. That’s all she was allowed to do when she was little and her parents were dying, to stand in the corner, hoping everything would be ok and knowing the graveness of the situation…

[Undómë]

‘Come along, girl, what are you doing?’ Lilly asked, only a little sharply. The older woman went on to say she was needed, with the firm implication that she meant NOW.

Rowan was about to protest that she was seeing to a guest Master Boffin, himself, had taken to a room, but the look on Lily’s face was daunting. Hmmmm… this was something more than just not having workers where they were supposed to be.

‘Right, then,’ Rowan said instead, following Lily out to the Common Room. She picked up one of the large empty trays leaning against the wall. ‘I’ll just start picking up the empty plates and such. Taking orders as I go along.’

She tucked a towel from behind the bar into the pocket of her apron and putting a welcoming smile on her face, began to make the rounds of the room.

[Durelin]

Griffo smiled as the boy showed great pleasure at the compliment, and then, with a red face, showed the humility that every well-raised child, in the gaffer’s opinion, should have. When little Taffy started talking about his grandfather, though, it became a little more difficult for the old Hobbit to keep a smile on his face. It had been a long while since he had any children to bounce on his knee. Those of his children who had children of their own now were far too great a distance away to really know their grandpa. And because of that, whenever they visited grandpa or he visited them, they preferred hiding beyond their mummy or daddy’s leg.

Taffy began showing Griffo different prized items, and the gaffer was amazed by the amount of energy the young boy had. It really had been a long time since he had spent time with a child who wasn’t yet so worried with becoming an adult that they slowed things down for an older person. The white-haired gaffer was very taken with the whistle, impressed by the detail. Now there was a Hobbit who had not forgotten the many secrets of the trade. Griffo was pleased that these things were seemingly being passed down to Taffy.

When the boy told him about the tiny carving of the cat, the gaffer once again broke into a smile. It was a beautiful and incredibly sweet gift. “Now there’s a beautiful thing,” Griffo whispered back, gladly maintaining the air of secrecy. “You’re a good lad, making such a thing for your sister. And I know she’ll prize that gift above all else.”

Drawing his eyes up from the visage of the kitten, Griffo waved a finger at the boy playfully. “And you go ahead and tell her for me that she has a gorgeous animal there.”

Enjoying the conversation with the boy, and not wanting it to end, the gaffer asked the boy another question. “What about you, you have any pets of your own?” Griffo knew that everyone loved talking about themselves, not least of all children – especially ones like Taffy.

[Firefoot]

As soon as Dick had mentioned finding something to ease pain, Cela had set about brewing a strong tea that, while not particularly tasty, certainly worked well as a pain reliever. “And ice,” she murmured to herself as she set the tea to boiling. She was just about to head down into the cellar when Gable stepped forward, “Is there anything that I can do to help Will and Primrose?”

Cela momentarily considered sending her down to the cellar to find the ice, then realized that the ceiling would be too low down there for the Elf. It would probably take too long for her to find it, anyhow. And the tea didn’t really need to be watched; it wouldn’t boil for another several minutes. What Primrose and Will would really need was more space – the kitchen was starting to feel downright crowded. An idea struck her. “Actually, yes. Someone needs to go down the road to fetch Doc Puddifoot. Just tell him that Primrose will need her leg splinted, and Will’s arm and head need to be looked at. You know the place?” Gable nodded. “Good. Go there now.” Cela turned to Tollers. “You can go back to whatever it was you were doing. Somebody will let you know if you’re needed.”

With that, she disappeared down into the cellar, going straight to the far wall where a sealed ice box was kept. Keeping it open for as short a time as possible, she took a couple blocks of ice and carried them upstairs in a bucket stationed by the box. There, she wrapped them in a clean rag for Will when he came in. As she worked, she was finally able to ask, “Now, Primrose, what exactly happened out there?”

[Folwren]

The hours passed quickly and everyone was busy at the Perch. Over night guests took their leave, more people came, lunch was served, and more people left. Dick worked away as cheerfully as he could, considering the circumstances. Rowan, thankfully, didn’t disappear again, at least when the place was busy. Tollers finished moving the furniture and helped in the kitchen. Primose was in the kitchen, too. She refused to be moved. Said she could work just fine sitting down. Dick highly doubt it, personally, and would see that she was carried off to her room early that evening.

But for now, it was far too early to consider such things. The afternoon was only half spent. Voices came murmuring through the kitchen door from the common room as he sat down and put his tired feet onto another chair. They were all served and he hoped that they would be satisfied for at least ten minutes.

“Here, Cella, hand me a cup of some of that fresh brewed tea, please,” he said. “Heavens, I wasn’t expecting this first day of opening to be so busy. Thanks you,” he added, as Cella set the steaming cup before him. He picked up the spoon she had provided and stirred absently. “Primrose, how are you holding out? Are you tired yet?”

[Celuien]

A wooden platter rested next to Primrose's arm, laden with neatly chopped potatoes, carrots, celery, and other vegetables for the next meal. She chopped away furiously, hoping to distract herself from her still aching leg by working.

"Primrose, how are you holding out? Are you tired yet?"

The knife stopped clattering against its cutting board. Primrose placed it at the edge of her piled work and thoughtfully took a sip of tea before answering. She was tired. Dreadfully tired, in fact, from the triple strain of the fall, fighting against pain, and her earlier (and still not completely resolved, though she wasn't sure why) worry for Will. But the only way Primrose thought she could stop herself from collapsing into tears and sleep was to keep working. At least until evening, when she could retreat to her room and, free from prying eyes, allow her exhaustion to show. But not now.

"Tired? I don't know. I suppose I'm no more tired than could be expected. Leastways, I'm not tired enough to drop my work when there's still something I could be doing here." She took another sip of the tea and smiled, only a droop at the corner of her eye and a slight faintness to the smile betraying her true weariness.

[Tevildo]

Tollers hung up his dishcloth and grinned broadly at Jack. "Thanks so much for your help. I couldn't have gotten through all these dishes without you lending a hand." Privately, Tollers was wondering if Jack had ever before helped in a kitchen. He had been awkward washing and drying the dishes and seemed confused when Cook had barked at them to go fetch her some special spices from the cellar.

Despite this, Tollers was extremely grateful to be finished with work and heading down to the river. "Well, what'll it be? Want to throw a line in off the bank, or would you rather take out my boat? It's just a short walk down the riverbank. The hobbit pushed open the gate and trotted across the roadway in the direction of the little tributary of the Brandywine that ran near the Inn.

[Envinyatar]

Jack folded up his dishtowel and hung it back on the rack where he’d gotten it. They were a neat and tidy lot, these Perch Hobbits, he surmised, looking about the kitchen. His glance fell on the cook, and he quickly lowered his eyes, hoping she had not noticed.

The woman scared him. Now that was the plain truth of it. She’d barked out orders at him as if he were some shave-tail mule needing to be broke in to harness. And well, he s’posed he was one, having never actually helped out in a kitchen before. But he’d done alright, he thought. Only one dish dropped when he was drying it. And how was he to know the tableware had their own little compartments . . . forks here, spoons there, knives there. He thought it quite amazing there was a drawer to keep them in in the first place, never mind the organizing of it.

Ah, well, he supposed he’d learn . . .

Now where had that thought come from? He shivered at the ridiculousness of it. He never stayed long enough anywhere to learn anything but where the good silver was kept, or the coin. Still, he had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy the camaraderie of those at the Perch. No one, at least to his face at any rate, had made an assumption he was up to no good. They kept offering him the chance to act like he was a normal sort of fellow, expecting he would do so. Make the right choice, act honest, help out before you help yourself. Have mercy! Just thinking about all this stuff was beginning to make his head ache.

‘Let’s take out the boat,’ Jack said, following Tollers out of the kitchen and through the yard. ‘I’ve a mind to do a little drifting on the Brandywine. Opportunity to try out a number of pools, eh?’ Clear my head, too he thought to himself.

‘So, what sort of pole do you favor?’ Jack asked as they crossed the road and headed down to the river. ‘Best one I ever had was one made of ash wood. Real light it was and had a good bend to it when a fish pulled on it. Used it to fish in the ponds back home. Big old perch there, hiding in the shadows and the root tangles of the willows what grew along the banks. But man, let me tell you those fish loved grasshoppers. And all I’d have to do was twitch one on the water surface, and those greedy fish would rise to it every time!’ Jack laughed at the recollection.

‘How bout the Brandywine? Never really fished it much down thisaway. What do they favor down here, these trout of yours?’

[Arry]

Will set his own mug of tea down carefully on the table. The herbs that Mistress Brandybuck had put in the concoction had gone a long way to ease his pain. But there was still a persistent dull ache that beat at his temples. And try as he might he could not find a comfortable position for his arm. His wrist ached and his broken finger, though well splinted, was beginning to pain him more and more.

Primrose seemed to be keeping up a brave front. There was a decided droop at the corner of her eye and a slight faintness to the smile which betrayed her true weariness. He watched her as she paused in her vegetable chopping to drink some more from her mug of tea.

He scooted to the edge of his chair, pushing his mug away from him as he did so. ‘You know, one of my brother’s broke his leg once. Fell out of a tree. The healer told him he’d heal faster if he rested as much as he could and didn’t move that leg’s bones around too much.’ He pursed his lips as if considering something and how to say it.

‘Now I know what you do is probably none of my business, Prim. But I am tired and hurting and somehow I just don’t think it right to leave you here while I go off to lay down for a bit. It would ease my mind no end if I knew you were resting, too. What do you say if we both go have a bit of a rest in our rooms and agree to have a little supper together later on?’ Will looked hopefully toward her. He was still feeling quite guilty about her accident.

[Folwren]

Dick
“You said we have enough money to buy food as well, what do you serve? Oh! And what is your name? It is hard to talk to someone when you haven’t been introduced.”

As though it would be easy to talk to two people who had the same name! But Dick answered immediately and evenly all the same. “Seredic Boffin at your service,” he said with a slight bow. “You may call me Dick, though. Everyone else does, mostly. Right now, we’ve got cheese and bread and seed cakes and other such stuff to serve, but in an hour or two, we’ll have a stew of a sort ready to serve. One of my hobbits have gone down to the river fishing and if he’s got a good catch, we’ll have fish stew. Or cook makes an excellent fish stew,” he added, nodding wisely.

--

Dorlind

Dorlind trotted off to find the sticks that Taffy instructed him to. How exciting! An older boy actually willing to make him something! His older brother, Treffy, rarely ever made him anything. He always said he was too busy, and for some reason, he always did seem to be busy. Dorlind didn’t always mind because occasionally they played together.

He found what Taffy said he would need, enough to make two whistles, and started back. He slowed his step as he drew near, seeing a dwarf standing and talked with Taffy. Two other dwarves stood in the doorway waiting for their companions.

Slowly, Dorlind drew near and he caught some of the dwarf’s words. “Hobbit, it was, that tricked that odious and tricksome worm! ‘Pon my word it was so.”

At that moment, the dwarf’s two companions called to him and ordered him away. Dorlind took a few more steps nearer as he straightened and went after them. “We’ll see you later, he? Looking forward to seeing how that piece turns out.” Dorlind went right up to Taffy’s side, extending the twigs silently as his eyes followed the broad back of the dwarf. “Oh, and remind me, if you will,” the stranger added without turning back around. “I have some pieces of my own, little animals like that. Perhaps you’d like to see them.”

Dorlind slid into his seat beside Taffy and whispered in his ear, thinking the dwarf might over hear him. “Who was that?”

[Forest Elf]

Gable was walking over to the kitchens, when she saw two very familiar faces. She took a second look at them and instantly remembered the two from Rivendell, Cir and Cir. Gable smiled and started over to the table, where Dick was talking with the two elves.

“Hello, Cir and Cir.” Gable said. “How are things in Rivendell? It’s been a long time since anyone from down there has come up to the Shire, anyone that I know anyways.”

[Undómë]

Rare as Dwarves were in Stock and as curious as she might be about where they’d come from and what they’d seen, still Rowan was in too much a hurry to get her duties done. Meliot’s find in Jack’s room had intrigued her.

‘Yes, sirs,’ she answered once they’d placed their order. ‘Ham it is and cheddar from Brandy Hall itself. Oh and yes of course mustard. I’ll bring you several kinds, in fact. Cook grinds them up…quite good. And a basket of bread…no, two, I think. Three pitchers of ale…’ she started to turn away. ‘Oh and yes…I’m sure I can round up a pouch of Longbottom Leaf, too.’

Rowan flew round the kitchen like a whirlwind, gathering up what was needed. She threw in a dish of pickles, too. With an economy of motion, she set the food and ale and pipeweed before the trio. Even as they thanked her, she was smiling and nodding as she backed away.

She dropped her tray behind the bar and ran to find Meliot. Taking her friend by the arm, she maneuvered the both of them out the door. ‘Let’s find somewhere private,’ she said as they hurried down the front steps……

[Lilly]

Taffy’s eyes were still wide from the encounter with the Dwarf. He barely heard what Dorlind was saying. He’d heard of Dwarves, from stories his Grandda had told him, but he’d never clapped eyes on one. This was in deed a treat of a day! Taffy took in a deep breath and recalled his attention to the boy.

‘I can’t really say who that was. He didn’t give his name.’ Taffy held up his little carving and turned it this way and that in his hand. ‘But he says he’s a whittler, too. And likes to make little animals.’ His eyes shone with excitement. ‘And best of all, he said he would tell me a tale later about a dragon…..and about a Hobbit that bested him!’ Taffy took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped his little project in it, carefully replacing the carving in his breeches pocket.

‘I’ll bet he’ll let you listen in, too,’ he went on, grinning at Dorlind. ‘If you’re brave enough, that is.’

‘Here, hand over those twigs you brought.’ He took the two pieces of wood and looked them over thoughtfully. ‘These will do nicely.’ He patted the step beside him. ‘Sit down close to me; I’ll show you how it’s done.’

[Mithalwen]

Cir recognised Gable but called her by her true name " Hello Nolwe, quieter since we aren't there I guess - we have been sent away" he added mournfully, remembering sadly the conversation he had overheard between his parents, the one he hadn't even told his sister about. "We are going to stay with our aunt in Mithlond but we have had to travel with some pilgrims to the Emyn Beraid - old people" he added - Gable was younger than the twins and one of the few other young elves at Imladris - until she went away that was .

Overhearing his sister's conversation with Dick he asked "Could we stay long enough for the proper food or should we get back by then? I am fed up with bread and cheese - it seems that that and lembas is all we have had since we left home." He finally tasted his beer and found he liked the taste ...darker than the ale the elves brewed.

[Noinkling]

A small cloud of smoke hovered over the table where the three Dwarves sat. The platter of ham and cheese, the baskets of bread were empty; their bellies full. The three sat back in their chairs quite at ease, pipes in hand.

‘Well, I say from here we stay off The Great Road and head west through the Green Hills.’ Skirvir drew in a mouthful of smoke and blew out a trio of fat rings.

Bávor leaned forward, pouring himself another mug of ale. ‘Yes, but what say we stay off the main road there, too.’ He raised his mug to his companions. ‘Let’s rough it through the hills, like our fathers’ fathers did.’ He pitched his voice a little lower. ‘You know, when they were bringing that shipment east.’ He raised his brows at his brother and cousin. ‘Could be the luck runs our way with this. What say you?’

‘Fine with me,’ Skirvir agreed, topping off his own mug. ‘But I say we nose about here a bit; look and listen for anything might fine tune what route we should be taking.’

‘Sounds good!’ Bívor added. ‘There’s no hurry. Lain there for years, it should weather another few days or so without problem.’ He looked to see where the Innkeeper was. ‘Why doesn’t one of you get us a room? I could use a quick nap before supper.’

[Undómë]

Rowan hurried Meliot off the little porch and around to the side of the inn, away from the kitchen. There was a small little arbor there covered with ivy, a private sort of place. And especially now that supper was drawing near and most of the guests and workers were gathered back inside.

‘I’ve only a few moments before Cook will be needing me to help with the next meal.’ She glanced about, trying to make sure no one was about to listen in on them. ‘Show me what you found in the man’s room.’

Their voices fell into hushed whisperings as Meliot unfolded the paper and smoothed it out on the bench between them.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot followed Rowan, her heart beating with impatience at the thought of what her friend might say of her discovery. She had no doubt that she had found something very important, something that would give her weeks, if not even months of talking and of being in the centre of atention. She took the piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Rowan.

"So, what do you think of it?" she asked, pausing to examine Rowan's amazed features. "I for one find it most suspicious. And I have no doubt now that this man is up to no good. Why, he surely stole this map and the jewells. I say the sooner he's out of here, the better for us all. Why, who knows what else he is capable of?"

[Forest Elf]

“Well, at least you get to get out… Sorry about your being sent away.” Gable added, remembering the time when she too was sent away to an elderly hobbit couple, here in the Shire. She did respect them, and there were times when she missed her parents desperately, yet she loved life in the Shire, at the same time she missed Rivendell. Cir’s saying her true name, brought up a lot of memories, from when she was younger, since no one around here, until now, of course, had ever mentioned her true name.

She walked off to the kitchen to see if she could do anything, after Cir had joined in his sister’s conversation with Dick. She pictured her Mother’s smiling face, then her Father’s, and nearly walked into a wall, so focused on the memory.

She shook her head to clear the memory, and walking into the kitchen said, trying to sound like her normal self; “Is there anything that I can do to help? Since the stables have been taken care of, I can make myself useful around here. I’m good for more than taking care of horses, especially in being an elf.”

[Tevildo]

"A gold coin? Oh, Jack, are you certain? I've never found anything in my entire life, except a lost mitten that belonged to a young hobbit lad and a small purse with pennies that a Mannish peddler misplaced in the marketplace. Of course, I gave the purse back," Tollers hastily added to be sure that Jack knew he wasn't the type to walk off with someone else's money.

"But what is that hammer? I've never seen a Shire coin with a hammer on it. In fact that hammer looks a bit odd to me. Farmers use hammers to nail on roof shingles or put up a shed in their backyard, but that thing looks pretty formidable. The only folk I've seen carrying a hammer like that were two dwarves coming through the Shire on their way to visit some kinfolk."

A worried look crossed Tollers' face. "Jack, perhaps, I shouldn't keep this coin. After all, it's not mine. Perhaps I should turn it in to the shiriff, and he'll know what to do. Only I wanted to keep it all for myself, and be able to show it off to the others at the Inn. What do you think?"

Tollers reached down, picked up the string of fish, and turned back in the direction of the Golden Perch, but not before hastily grabbing the coin back from Jack and tucking it inside his inner vest pocket.

[Arry]

Will pushed his plate away and sat back comfortably in his chair. His belly was full and he was feeling quite happy and content. Rowan’s question about the box of instruments had led to a short conversation with her on who was intending to perform. He’d almost jumped up to run fetch his concertina, but a jostle to his arm reminded him he’d best rest the injured limb. Hard to play the instrument with a broken finger and a swollen wrist.

And poor Prim – she’d be out of the dancing for a good bit, too . . .

Well, he could still sing and tap his feet to the rhythm of the songs.

One of the Dwarves, the reddish haired one, went by their table, ferried along by two youngsters. There were excited sounds from the children’s; the word ‘story’ peppering the conversation. The boy and girl’s eyes gleamed in anticipation. And the Dwarf, for his part, was egging them on with bits and pieces of some tale. They trio, Will gleaned, was bound for the front porch where the story would begin.

Will leaned forward and tapped Prim lightly on the arm. ‘Say, would you like to sit out on the porch for a bit? Catch some fresh air?’ I think the Dwarf is going to be telling a tale or two to the young ones that just passed by.’

[Envinyatar]

The supper hour was slowing down a bit. Jack was now picking up more empty dishes than he was delivering filled plates to the patrons. Hunger had once again been staved off; though, from previous experience with the Little Folk he knew that in a few hours there might be calls for seconds of desserts or the wee plate of bread and cheese.

He stood for the moment at the bar, dirty dishes and tableware and mugs piled precariously on his large tray. Tollers was busy delivering drinks – ale and cider and mugs of sweetened tea could always be squeezed in to the nooks and crevices of a seemingly full belly.

Not wanting to appear the idle laggard, Jack re-piled the contents of his tray into a more stable heap. ‘Right then,’ he muttered to himself as he hoisted it to his shoulder and steadied it with his hands. ‘Just have to deliver this to the dragon’s lair meself.’ He inched carefully toward the kitchen door, calling out, ‘Coming through!’ as he pushed open the door with his foot. Walking slowly as he might, he reached the counter near the sink and put down his burden in a clear spot.

A smile creased his face as he mentally applauded his successful transport and delivery. With just as careful hands, he began reaching for the plates, one by one, to scrape what remained upon them into the slops bucket.

[Kath]

Finishing her meal with a sigh of contentment Cir made herself comfortable and studied her brother. He seemed to have cheered up quite a bit and was taking an active role in organising their plans for the evening. The air of sadness around him had lessened considerably as they had talked excitedly about what they would do, and she hoped it would stay like that as they played and sang or the poor hobbits would find themselves in tears. Cir had such an emotive voice that it was impossible not to react to what he felt as he sang.

The sound of a chair being pushed to the side broke her thoughts, and she looked up to see Cir on his feet and smiling at her.

"Third door on the left through that one by the fireplace." At the sight of her confused look he continued. "Just in case you were too busy filling your face to listen to our helpful hobbit."

Cir leapt toward him in mock outrage and the two raced to the door, lightly dancing around the servers still delivering food to the tables. They reached the storeroom without incident and dug their way through piles of things, emerging with flutes, clarinets, small drums and a harp.

Carefully they made their way back to the Dwarves' table, which had luckily long since been cleared of food, and dropped the instruments down on the table, avoiding the mugs of ale as they did.

"Kar, there is a flute for you if you are still willing to join us, and for those of you who wish to have something between your hands besides air then please take your pick."

Cir nudged her brother towards the table, encouraging him to get involved and choose an instrument of his own, and moved to do the same.

[Noinkling]

Bívor and Bávor

At the end of the meal Bívor had gone back to their room to fetch his flute. As the Elves looked through the instruments piled on the table, he eased it from its soft leather pouch and gave it a try. He was a bit rusty; hadn’t played it in several weeks. Smoothing his beard and mustache back from his lips, he took a trial blow, fingering a few notes. Not too bad! he said to himself, pleased with the effort.

Bávor grinned at him and raising his mug to his own lips took a big swallow. ‘Just getting my own instrument in order,’ he chuckled. ‘So, what sorts of songs are you thinking of playing?’ he asked the Elves, watching their long delicate fingers sort through the other flutes and such.

> - <

Skirvir

The Tale of the Dwarves, the Hobbit, and the Dragon . . .

Skirvir sat down on the lowest step and invited the children to sit where it pleased them. From the deep recesses of a pocket in his vest, he pulled out a few golden coins, placing them in a little pile in the dirt at his feet.

‘Now this is how I heard it from my father –

Tens time tens times ten and yet again were the numbers of coins and jewels and pretty silvered things all set with gems that lay beneath The Lonely Mountain . . .’ he began, telling them of the Dwarves who had delved beneath the mountain and crafted many beautiful things.

From another pocket fame came a red-gold dragon with wings outspread; just the size to fit in the palm of the Dwarf’s large hand. Its underbelly was crusted with crushed pieces of gems and gold; its eyes set with small rubies. Skirvir ‘flew’ it over the heads of the children, swooping it down once or twice toward their upturned faces.

‘My armour is like tenfold shields,’ he growled in a dragon-y sort of voice as they ducked. ‘My teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!’ With a slow circling, he brought the beast to down toward the ground to lie on the pile of gold.

He sang in a low, in a voice that seemed as if it echoed within great caverns; and the beat of it seemed like the tramping and stamping of many feet upon stone pathways . . .

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sward.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To find our long-forgotten gold.

‘It was Mister Baggins of Bag-end Under-Hill that Thorin and his company sought out. A certain Hobbit who had been recommended to them by the old man with the staff. Gandalf, by name . . .’

The story wove on; Skirvir pausing now and them as the children asked questions.

The stars had come out and gleamed like little gems in the darkness. And the little candle-lantern that hung from the eaves of the inn nearest the door threw out a pale golden track that barely touched the storyteller and his listeners.

[piosenniel]

Since it looked as if the music was about to begin, Rhys hurried to his room to retrieve his fiddle. By the time he’d got back, Tanni had drawn up another chair next to his on which to lay the piney-wood case. He undid the plain brass clasp and took out his bow, tightening it to the tension he liked, and then rosining it to make it catch the strings well. His left hand fetched up the fiddle to its familiar perch beneath his chin, a soft, folded handkerchief cushioning the wood against his neck. Rhys plucked out a few notes to see that it was in tune; then drew the bow across them each. A few twists of the tuning pegs and he termed it ready to play.

‘Just play what you like,’ he called out to the Elves as they turned to catch sight of the source of the sound. ‘I’ll see if I can follow along.’

[Celuien]

"I should like that very much, Will. Shall we go?" Primrose smiled. She could think of few better ways to spend an evening after a good meal than listening to tales.

Primrose lifted herself on her crutch, and, taking Will's offered arm once again, the hobbits made their way to the door. They leant in the door frame, their figures outlined by the soft lantern light as they eagerly listened to the tale of the famous Mad Baggins on his adventure with the Dwarves.