The Golden Perch Inn

[Rose]

‘No worries, old mother,’ he said, ‘no worries at all.’

My, my! Polite enough for one of the Big Folk, isn’t he? Granny nodded as the fellow turned aside her apology with a soft counter. She watched then as he deftly retrieved his escaping knife.

Bit nervous, though... Penstemon thought to herself as he pulled out a well-travelled apple from his sack and carefully cut it. And careful as well to avoid looking at her; though for what reason she could not fathom. Taking the piece offered she waited as he cut one for himself.

Looks a bit rough around the edges. Granny glanced from the man back to the apple wedge, thinking the same could be said of either. She took a bite, savoring the surprising sweetness of the weathered fruit. ‘My stars! That’s tasty!’ She beamed up at the fellow. ‘Not from the trees round these parts, is it?’

Granny nodded her approval and finished off the slice.

‘Now where’s my manners!? Name’s Penstemon Greenhill....from roundabout here. And who might you be, young man?’

[Undómë]

‘Hmmmm....perhaps if I work my way nearer to those two I can find out what they’re talking about.’ Rowan fetched a pot of hot, sweetspice tea, mugs, a basket of toast, and small jar of honey and one of blackberry jam. Fixing a cheerful smile on her face, she made her way toward where Granny and the Man were sharing an apple.

‘Thought you two might like something to fill in around your slices,’ she said brightly, putting the tray she carried down on the table.

[Ilya]

Widlast had paused with his tongue pressed against his teeth when the serving lass came over. "Nothing for me, mistress, thank you kindly," he said, shaking his head more from bewilderment than anything else. What he'd heard of these parts was an insular folk, creatures who could vanish into the ground. And there was trouble here too, he sensed that, for all the easy stillness of the inn. Yet these two were civil, chatty, even. He fingered the serving tray, and then looked back up, at the old woman still relishing her apple-slice, and the younger girl, a easy smile trying to hold back the sheer weight of her curiosity. No, he could not conjure these holbytlan in a hole in the ground.

"Penstemon...Campanulatus, the bell-flower," he mused and then answered her. "I am Widlast," shrugging and running a hand through his hair, he leaned back against the wall. Hopefully, a foreign-sounding word or two would do for the pair. The elder seemed sharp, and as he picked at the dirt under his thumb, he knew the more she asked the more likely it would be that he'd have to lie.

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen found herself a free table by a window and having stowed her case under the bench installed herself on its padded seat - even old Elvish bones appreciate some comfort - the stools would be fine for the twins when they came in. Besides it meant she could see what was going on outside as well as in the common room - and there was definitely something going on though she had not the chance to ask Mr Boffin about it .

Perhaps the children would have found out she thought, they were certainly taking their time with the pony she mused as she folded her grey cloak and placed it neatly next to her. But here they were,slipping in to the room as subtly as cats, seemingly on better terms that when they had left her. That was something.

She spoke to them softly, in their own tongue "Here you are - what kept you? I have spoken to Mr Boffin myself so it can't be that? - the rooms are arranged but if one of you could arrange some tea that would be lovely. I think we may be too late for breakfast and too early for lunch - but I get the impression that today isn't quite a normal day"

Her niece slid off in the direction of the kitchen while her nephew replied:

"There was no one about in the yard so we sorted Bracken out ourselves - found him an empty stall and hay and water and left his harness on a rack in the tack-room. If it is wrong it'll have to be put right later. The trap we have just left for now - I think it will be alright but I don't know about the things in it. Should we bring them in?"

Mithalwen thought of the hobbit she had seen when she first arrived - he had looked decidedly shify, and while it was unfair to judge on first sight, they had seemed to have been interrogating him. However it seemed she couldn't even give her craft away now so maybe a thief would be doing her a favour.

"Don't worry - I have the most important things here with me - and I am sure Mr Boffin will arrange things with his stableman. You have made your peace with your sister have you not? "

Cir nodded. Clearly it was going to be hard to keep much from their aunt.

"And you aren't going to tell me about it?"

The boy looked uncomfortable and lowerered his gaze -"It doesn't matter anymore..." his voice trailed, reluctant to speak in his sister's absence but aware that his aunt seemed to know regardless of whether he spoke or not.

"hmm, well maybe I can guess, but we'll leave it for now at least. Now when Enpauriel returns with that tea, I think you may have your presents - not that I am quite sure you deserve them". Mithalwen added with a grin.

[Strongbow]

He had passed many miles, from Imladris to the Shire. He had chosen, on a whim, to avoid The Prancing Pony, and instead he had wound around the Weather Hills, taking his time. The Dúnedain had told him that the Men of Bree would look down on him, and told him that the rumors of haunting of Fornost, which Men called "Deadman's Dike", where just that: rumors. So, Tarden son of Taros has traveled over the lonely country with only his trusted companion, Meglis.

Just west of Fornost Erain, Tarden turned sharply south to meet the Road as it entered the Shire. The Baranduin was too wide and deep to ford, and even though he would keep south more than was necessary, he was forced to take the Bucklebury Ferry into the Eastfarthing. The Ferry itself had given him no trouble, although the ferry-hobbits were a bit afraid of his dog. His dog was bigger than he was. The people of the Eastfarthing were very open towards him, particularly in Buckland, and many a time was he directed to his destination: the Golden Perch, where there was, reputedly, the best beer in the Eastfarthing. As a matter of fact, he had heard that particular phrase several times that day.

Very odd, he thought it, that there were that many riders on the Road, just inside the borders of the Shire. His eyes could descry, in the far distance, the Perch, set in the side of a hill, and many posts for horses outside. Uneventfully, he came to the place, the golden sun hammering home the Golden name of the Inn. He had already heard that a many of his size would have to stoop to enter into the place, and the round door was not wide enough for him and Meglis to go through at the same time.

His eyes squinted in the difference of the lighted as he bent himself near double, and stood up finally, his eyes darting about, spying the fireplace, and the counter. He smiled at the Common Room, and turned to the counter, to the hobbit behind the counter.

"Sir," he inquired politely. "Would it be alright for my dog to follow? I assure you, he's quite well-behaved, and will follow any word I tell him." As if to demonstrate his good behavior, the black, bear-like beast sat, trying to look as sweet as he can.

[Folwren]

Dick stared with huge eyes at the dog. It was more terrifying than even the legends of Farmer Maggots dogs, which were by all accounts as fierce and large as any dragon! But this! This dog was as big as two dragons. Dick continued to stare.

He didn’t look very harmful, sitting upon his haunches (which were as big as a pony’s), with the tip of his tongue protruding just slightly. He met Dick’s eye squarely and then shut his mouth all the way and tilted his head slightly to the left, looking questioningly at the hobbit.

Dick suddenly came to his senses and jerked his eyes away. ‘Never look a dog in the eye!’ his mum had told him, whenever the topic came up. ‘It makes them mad and they’ll eat you!’ To a hobbit next to a dog this size, that was a very real threat.

“So long as he doesn’t disturb the other customer’s, I guess he will be alright,” he said.

[Rose]

‘You’ve the right of that, Master Widlast,’ Granny returned. ‘Named after the Bellflower by my mother. I was her only girl, you see, and she called me after her favorite flower.’ Granny closed her eyes for a moment recalling her mother’s meandering flower garden and the riot of colorful penstemons planted there.

The elder Hobbit took a swig of the sweetspice tea Rowan had brought round for them. And once done, helped herself to a thick slice of toast and a generous helping of blackberry jam. ‘You sure you won’t have a mug along with me and something a little more substantial than an apple slice?’ She pushed a mug toward him, followed by the basket of toast. ‘Have two, why don’t you,’ she went on. ‘The blackberry jam’s some of the best around. And the honey, I do believe, is some from my own hives. Very tasty, if I do say so myself.’ She munched thoughtfully on her piece of toast.

‘You know,’ Granny said, turning her attention back on Widlast. ‘That’s an interesting coat you’ve got on there. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one like it before. Where’d you get it, if you don’t mind my asking?’