The Golden Perch Inn

[Folwren]

“Mistress Puddifoot...” Dick said thoughtfully to himself. “I don't rightly know if I have ever met this Mrs. Puddifoot. Maybe she wouldn't be a bad replacement for Cook? I wonder...”

He was sunk in thought for a moment, and then Tolly said, “Wouldn't say no to another, if you're offering, Master Boffin. How's the Missus, by the way? And the wee ones?”

“Certainly, I'm offering,” Dick said, reaching out his hand and taking the mug. He filled it and handed it back. “Lilly is doing quite well, thank you, as well as the rest of the family. They're all as healthy as you could wish for this time of year. Lilly worries something awful about Cook missing. She says it will be a drain on the business and may cause the Perch to lose some of it's old name. I told her that couldn't be, as the ale's stayed the same, even if Cook has disappeared. She cares something awful about this place, her old dad having owned it and run it before me. If you'd like to know, it can be something of a rough ride to try to fill the old man's shoes.”

As he spoke, a whiff of air came from the kitchen as Prim came out of it. Dick turned his head and sniffed. “I say, they've got lunch already going! I'm dashed if Mrs. Puddifoot did go and take over for Cook!”

[Mithalwen]

A smart little wagon pulled up outside the inn. The liver chestnut cob that drew it raised his head as if he remembered he had been here before, but as he made to go round to the stable yard his driver gave a last gentle pull on the reins before descending from her seat with all the easy elegance of her people.

"Not today, Bracken lad, our journey is not over so soon - but your load will be a little lighter". The pony almost seemed to sigh as his mistress, the elf Mithalwen led him to the water trough and let him drink while she went to the back of the waggon and unloaded a couple of bags which she left at the inn door. She returned to the waggon's front and received carefully a large bundle from her companion, a mortal woman alike in height and build to herself - though the woman's hair was as dark as the elf's was pale. The bundle wriggled and unfolded itself into a small girl wrapped in a dark blue cloak who grizzled into her mother's skirts the second she too had stepped down from the box seat.

"You are sure then? There is an inn at Bree", Mithalwen spoke Sindarin to Elintiriel for the folk of her native Belfalas spoke it as a mother tongue.

"Yes I am sure - it is a cold day's drive away and the sooner this one has a hot bath and a warm bed the sooner she will be well won't you, Annie?". The child's only response was to hide under Elintiriel's cloak. "and it is only for a few days. The place looks homely enough"

"It is, and Mr Boffin will make you welcome - he was very good about the twins" she recalled. They had settled quite well at Mithlond, better than she had expected after the inauspicious start to their visit but she had rather hoped that Elin would have stayed at the havens while she made this trip. Having Angharad around to amuse seemed to have kindled a sense of responsibility in her feckless niece and nephew but Mithalwen was a little uneasy leaving them alone for over a fortnight. Yet the journey had to be made, rendered more important since the shenanigans over the twin's arrival had aborted her previous trading trip to Bree six months ago, and the woman had begged to accompany her. Then Annie had started to get ill and though they camped in the relative comfort of Woody End, Elin had wanted to get a proper roof over her child's head as soon as possible.

Elin coaxed her daughter out from under her cloak to say goodbye to Mithalwen and the elf crouched down to say "namárië" to Angharad and the battered one eared rabbit she clutched to her chest. She smoothed the hair from the child's hot forehead, rose and bade farewell to Elin, noticing how thin she seemed as she embraced her. Perhaps the hobbits would have more success at feeding her up than she had.

As she drove away towards the Brandywine Bridge she wondered if Elin would be there when she returned. She seemed restless, haunted or was it hunted? Mithalwen wondered momentarily what Elin was running from - perhaps the husband was not dead but violent? She dismissed the idea.. Elin had always spoken of him with love and grief. Mithalwen chided herself for the lack of charity. She of all people should understand. Had she not lost those she loved most to Mordor, and had she not run away for a while?

Elin picked up her bags and her daughter's hand and stooping to clear the lowish round doorway she went into the inn, immediately grateful for the warmth of the common room. She was suprised but pleased to see there were other "bigfolk" in the common room but she approached the bar first where a hobbit she took to be the Landlord was serving ale to another and talking about the Cook as far as she could catch -she hadn't spoken much Westron for a while and the accent here was different to in the South as were many words. She remembered Mithalwen had spoken of the Cook disappearing during her stay here and wondered if it could still be a topic of conversation so many months later.

She hesistated not wanting to interrupt but the hobbit turned towards her asking how he could help. Her speech was stilted at first as she started to speak in Westron fearing her accent would not be understood

"Mr Boffin is it? If possible, I would like a room for myself and my daughter for two nights probably three... she is ill - only a cold" she spoke sharper than she meant fearing the landlord would turn her away for bringing contagion into his house and realising this she smiled in an attempt to soften her tone, "but she needs warmth and rest", Angharad raised her arms demanding to be picked up. Elin obliged though the child was really getting too big to be carried and her daughter laid her head against her shoulder, drowsily snuffling like a piglet. Elin's own nose twitched but it was not a sneeze. She had caught the scent of the food being prepared in the kitchen. It took her back instantly to the farmhouse in Edhellond where she had spent her early childhood, the happiest time of her life save the short years of her marriage, and this time the warmth in her smile was spontaeneous. Suddenly and for the first time she could remember, she felt hungry.

[Flame of Udûn]

Arandon was surprised to hear about the horse, he had not taken a horse on his journeys for many years. It would not have been fair to force any creature to venture into the places he had been to and he had always had a soft spot for horses, his sisters had ridden often when he was young.

"Your quite right there, but I would not force any creature to come with me to the places I am often forced to go, indeed no one should ever have to go there but..." He trailed off and could not think of anything else to say; he often found himself struggling in these situations, he could not hold a conversation up for long.

[Undómë]

Rowan stood to one side as the woman spoke to Master Boffin. ‘So thin!’ she whispered to Penny, drawing the other lass close. ‘Needs a bit of fattening up, don’t you think?’ Her eye was caught by the little girl who snuffled her nose as she lay on the woman’s shoulder. Her daughter, if she’d heard right.

Poor, wee mite! she thought to herself as she smiled up at the girl. She waggled her fingers at the one-eared, love-worn rabbit clutched in the little one’s hand. ‘So, Master Hop-it; or little Mistress, if I’d got it wrong . . . I’m Rowan.’ She smiled widely and dropped a little curtsy. You look a bit cold. How about a nice warm mug of honeyed milk with some little, buttered toast fingers to dip in? Makes your tummy happy, or so my Gran always said to me.’

Rowan nodded her head up at the little girl. ‘And I ‘spose we could do up another mug for your friend there . . . if she’d like one . . .’

[Mithalwen]

Angharad wasn't so ill or misled by the hobbit's dialect not to understand the offer. She had not quite believed that there really were halflings, people no bigger than herself but grown up, and not just in stories, until they had started their journey across the Shire. Now she was seeing one up close and she was fascinated enough to forget her head felt muzzy and her limbs ached.

Her mother had often said how clever and wise the Elves were but Rowan had caused Hobbits soar to far far above them in Angharad's estimation. Rowan understood about Isildur. Not like those elves who no matter how kind they tried to be were always making silly offers to replace his lost ear, as if he were a thing not a person - her constant companion all the days of her life.

"Ammë?", Angharad looked up at her mother for approval and seeing her nod, the girl squirmed down to the floor and attempted her best curtsey in response to Rowan's. A wobble or two later she straightened up and was more or less on the same level as the hobbit.

"'Sildur would like some milkanhoney" she said a little thickly "an..me too, please" her bright blue eyes looked hopefully into Rowan's hazel ones.

Elin looked fondly at her daughter, glad that she had remembered some of her manners as well as her Westron. "Well done, Annie, why don't you go and choose where we are going to sit?". She waited a moment for her daughter to focus on what she decided would be the best available table then thanked Rowan.

"You have made a great impression there, Miss Rowan, - any friend of Isildur's is a friend of Annie's. Isildur is the rabbit " she elaborated, remembering how the name had been a joke of her brother's that stuck, "after the king of old. Annie is my daughter and I am Elin". She felt instinctively that this was not a place for the formality of full names and knew that Angharad sounded harder and almost unlovely to speakers of the Common tongue while her own was simply just too long.

"Milk and honey would be perfect for Annie, but if it isn't too much trouble, might I have some tea?" she asked, keeping at least half an eye on the child who was clearly delighted to discover that a hobbit-sized chair fitted her perfectly and was installed in one as if it were a throne. Her felt rabbit lying now across her lap, her little hands grasped the chair arms as she waited for her mother to join her.

[Folwren]

It never entered Dick’s mind to turn the woman and her daughter away. He had children of his own, and his fatherly heart went out to the little one. November was miserable enough without having a dreadful cold, and it certainly looked like she had a pretty dreadful one.

Rowan seemed to know Dick’s thoughts, for without even consulting him, she made welcome to the little girl and offered her tea and toast. Dick smiled as Elin and Annie turned in Rowan’s direction, knowing they were in good hands. Annie went to search for a table and Elin asked for some tea for herself. Rowan would see to it.

Dick turned again to Tolly. “Do you have any more deliveries today, or are you going to able to stick around a while? You ought to at least stick around to try whatever it is Mrs. Puddifoot is inventing in there.”

[Undómë]

‘I had a little rag doll myself, Mistress Elin. My constant companion and holder of all my secrets. Still have her, in fact,’ she chuckled. ‘My Gran tucked her away in my satchel when I went away from the family burrow. With a little note that Buttercup – that’s what I called my dolly – had a lot of hugs from her for me just waiting for when I needed them.’

‘Looks like Annie is all settled in,’ she went on, nodding toward the table the little girl had chosen. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and join her. I’ll see to your room. And Penny here can fetch your tea and the honey milk and toast fingers for Sildur and his girl.’

Rowan sent Penny to fetch the drinks, with a whispered instruction to bring a plate of hot, buttered toast and a pot of strawberry jam. ‘Momma is too thin to my way of thinking!’

She hurried off to air out the room and fluff up the feathered pillows. The patchwork quilts were nice and thick, but just in case they got cold at night, she put two dark blue woolen blankets on the chest at the foot of the bigger bed. Fluffy towels and wash cloths were piled neatly on the wash stand next to the basin and pitcher. As a last touch, she fetched a small vase and filled it with some pretty autumn leaves and a few stalks of fragrant herbs.

Rowan stepped back toward the door. There, that looks good! she thought to herself as she surveyed the room. She hurried back to the kitchen to give a hand with the lunch meal.