The Golden Perch Inn

[Folwren]

Dick responded to the hobbit’s request for beer immediately. He nodded his head quietly as the hobbit went on telling him about ... what? The innkeeper looked up. Who gave the Master of Buckland water instead of beer? An amused grin spread across his face as he turned back to the tap and finished off the mug.

“How’s the business going?” the newcomer asked, turning to look about the empty common room. “I heard that in Woodhall, they had to close their Inn for a while, because the locals did not have time to visit it for a month! Imagine that! But I hope this is not your case.” He turned again to face Dick just as the innkeeper was setting the mug on the counter and picking up the coin.

“Business has been good,” Dick replied. “Lot’s of people passing through Stock nowadays. We have staying in the inn a Dwarf, even! And a couple elves. We have daily customers, too, from Stock. I’m not about to close the ol’ Perch anytime soon.

“Where’re you from, Mr....?”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"Brandybuck, Rory," the customer replied, picking up the mug. "I come from Pincup. I suppose you know where that is. A great place. My parents moved there after their marriage, when my mother's grand-uncle died, leaving them that wonderful smial. Yes, my grand-uncle, that must have been a hobbit! Rorimac Banks was his name. I was named after him, you see. My mother was his favourite grand-niece. She always visited him in that big, empty smial when all the relatives moved away... so, he left it to her."

Rory interrupted the recital of his family's history to take a drop from the mug. The cold beer for a moment choked off the stream of his words and sudden silence fell upon the common room.

"Well," the guest said after a while, wiping his lips, "this must be indeed the best beer in the Easfarthing. I have to stop here more often. I am a carter, you see - but usually my business does not lead me to these parts of the Shire." He looked about. "It's good to see that business is going well for you. You said, there is a dwarf and elves in here? Even? Unbelievable, I have to tell that in Willowbottom - they once had a Big Man there, wandering around, but elves! Are they not a little bit... hmm... strange? And where are they, anyway?" Rory suddenly turned and walking through the room to the door on its other end, before the innkeeper could react, he opened them and glanced over the hallway leading deeper into the hill. "Nice," he commented, turning back without closing the door. "In Tuckborough, they have some very beautiful smials. I once visited the Thain himself, had to deliver something to him from the Hornblowers. You won't believe how big, big hallway he has in the smial where he stays during summer. This whole room could fit into it, really."

"But you know," he continued quickly, "maybe you could make this place a little bit more... cosy. Look at that wall, for example," he pointed at the wall opposite to the bar. "It could be decorated with something... and that hallway over there," he pointed towards the opened door, "could be painted yellow and lilac. It would be nice. I could get you someone to do that if you don't have anyone. I know plenty of people." He handed the empty mug to the innkeeper to get it refilled.

[Forest Elf]

Gable watched, dumbfounded. She could still hardly believe that the person she had seen running was an elf. At first she didn't think much about it, but now that he was here, fighting them off, the thought finally went through her head. She put her feet back onto the branch and watched as he fought them off. Then falling to his knee. She blinked and jumped down from in the tree, landing lightly on her feet.

"Thank you sir. If you hadn't of come... then that would've been it for me," Gable said. "Are you alright?" She walked closer until she was a few inches away from him to his right. She knelt down next to him, hoping that he was alright. She could hear his heavy breathing and wondered how much trouble it was for him to of helped her.

[Gwathagor]

He pulled himself to his feet, and then bowed low.

"Lady, I beg your pardon."

The ground about them was strewn with wolf corpses, and the edge of his cloak was stained with their blood, as with the blood of countless other fallen enemies from other days and battles. The elf was still tired, but he stood tall and straight, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword. If anything, he appeared somewhat stiff, slightly ill at ease in the presence of another person, particularly a young elf maiden. He was not used to society; he was used to defending it. His glance shifted away north momentarily, past the elf girl and towards the forest. He put out a cautionary hand.

"You should not tarry here. I fear that there may be more wolves close by and that these were only the advance guard of a much larger pack. These are not ordinary wolves and their leader is...very dangerous. It is not yet safe"

He paused for a moment, trying to recall all he could of the conventions and pleasantries of society. It had been a very long time.

"You are not hurt, are you? May I assist you in any way?"

[Forest Elf]

Gable blinked with surprise. She noticed that even though he didn't show it, he was tired. She stood and said, "I'm fine, thanks for asking." She looked around, wondering what had happened to the wolf pup she had saved several years ago.

After a little while she asked, "May I ask who, or what the wolves leader is?" She looked at him, waiting for an answer. She was clueless as to what could control wolves.

[Gwathagor]

A shadow passed over the warrior elf's face. He hesitated.

"First," he said, "Let us return to yon house of food and drink, and as we go, you must recount to me your own tale, and how you came to be thus sore beset by wolves. Tell me all," and here he became, were it possible, even more grave and solemn, "And spare no words in the telling, for I have patience enough, and in the thoroughness of your account may lie the unraveling of this riddle. When I have been satisfied regarding my own worries, whether they are true or false, then I shall gladly unfold my own story to you and any others who find pleasure in it...if the length of it does not turn them to stone with boredom."

He laughed, or rather chuckled to himself, and his fair, grave face briefly took on a new aspect as he did so. Less proud and careworn he seemed, but more fierce, as if the smoldering coal within him had leapt up into flame for an instant, dancing and laughing, but hotter than ever; and more volatile. (He laughed as often in battle as he did in feasting.) Then the mask of care and studied gravity fell across his countenance once again; the fire fell back to a coal, burning safe and slow, but inextinguishable.

They were walking back towards the inn, and the elf-maid had just begun to tell what she knew of the curious wolf invasion as the tall elf listened attentively. Suddenly he smote his brow with his right hand, as the left was resting ready upon his scabbard.

"Again, your pardon! My manners are not what they were," he exclaimed, turning to the other. "Once, I did know how to behave in good company; but that was long ago and far away. I am called Gwathagor by most who know me. I have gone by that name long enough, and it will continue to serve. What is your name? And pray carry on your tale."

Perhaps these were only ordinary packs of hungry wolves, forced to move south in search of better hunting. That in itself would be bad enough. But, in truth, he had little hope that when all was told this would prove to be any other than the forays of the Draugring, the Cold-Wolves. He could track them easy enough; more difficult would be the actual battle. He would fight them alone, without hesitation, because he knew that the Shire-folk were not warriors. They were cooks and farmers and brewers. They did not deserve this plague. Nonetheless, the aid of another warrior such as himself would be warmly welcomed. This, in part, was his purpose: to return to the inn and gather one or two others who had enough experienced with weapons to not be a liability. They could then return to the tree and from there follow the wolf-tracks back into the hills, whence they had come, and then...he was not sure. But that would come soon enough. He gave the other elf his full attention.

[Forest Elf]

Gable looked up at him. For some reason she liked his new face better than his first one. His laugh sounded rather nice too, it had been quite some time since she heard another elf's laugh.

She laughed slightly and said, "It is fine. Actually, to be honest, most people around here find me strange. Who wouldn't, most girls don't wear boys' clothes from time to time like I do. And my name is Gable. It's nice to meet you."

She looked up at the sky, remembering previous times. She couldn't help but to remember the rounds of laughter she had with everyone here. She found herself sad when the thought of this all ending soon came to mind. With all the wolves about, she wondered how much longer the Inn would last. Then she shook her head to clear her mind of thought.

She had already told him about the pony. "Where was I?" she asked herself, absent-mindedly. "Ah, yes. I remember I’d just got done telling you about the pony…well; the owner of the pony is still unknown. We’re not even sure if the owner’s alive…” a shadow came over her eyes as the questions filled her mind again. She blinked, interrupting herself.

She sighed softly, inwardly, remembering the past events, “The wolves attacked the barn the next morning. For some odd reason, it seems that they were after the pony…it puzzles me though. Most wolves don’t go around chasing after one certain prey, their options vary…” Her mind trailed off into thought for a few seconds before she shook the questions out of her mind. “Then there was the attack last night with the same wolves you just slain, I still find it hard to believe that I actually slept in that tree… the hobbit!” she said, suddenly hitting her hand with her forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot him there! He’s in the tree next to the one I was in. I should head back and wait for him to wake. It would be awful if he woke suddenly and there was no one there…”

She turned and stopped, suddenly remembering something. She looked over her shoulder at the elven warrior, “You can head over to the Inn, I’m sure that you must be tired. But, now that I think of it, there was also a silver locket; I don’t know if the owner has claimed it yet or not. I found it in the pony’s stable. I don’t know if that’s of any importance to you or not, and those of us at the Inn are unable to open it. It has a small lock on the side of it, which a small key is needed to open.”