The Golden Perch Inn

[Undómë]

Rowan had gone off to the kitchen to fetch food and drink for Will and Primrose. She was just settling two glasses of cider on her tray when the door to the kitchen opened and Gable’s face peeked through.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she heard the Elf ask.

Cela seemed to be busy between the stirring of the stew and the frying up of mushrooms. Rowan motioned for Gable to come on in.

‘You’re here in the nick of time! Usually Prim would wash up dishes as we went along, but with her leg broken she can’t do it. And if we leave it for later for Tollers and me, I swear the bowls and mugs’ll be stacked to the ceiling!’ She looked hopefully at Gable. ‘Do you think you could give us a hand here?’ Drawing nearer to the Elf she whispered that Cela was in a little bit of a grumpy mood and would she please be very careful not to break any of the dishes. ‘Not that I think you would, mind you,’ Rowan assured Gable. ‘But cook’s nerves are a bit on edge tonight.’

From beyond the kitchen door, she could hear a commotion of some sort in the common room. ‘Now what’s going on out there?’ she asked, fetching one of the bigger aprons for Gable.

[Lilly]

‘Wait, Taf, wait!’ Seren yanked hard on her brother’s tunic and planted her feet firmly on the wooden floor. From the corner of her eye she had caught the image of the man at the counter as he fell to the floor. ‘Over there,’ she went on, pointing toward where a knot of people were gathering. She and Taffy climbed on a chair, the better to see what was going on.

One of the Inn servers, Tollers, had knelt down by the stricken man and was calling for help. Much to her delight, an Elf stepped in to help, bringing water and then running for the healer.

Taffy jumped down, lifting Seren to the floor soon after. ‘Let’s sneak to the end of the bar, there…where the shadows are,’ he whispered to her, pulling her along once again. ‘We can see better what the fellow looks like.’

By the time the healer had come, huffing and puffing as he ran through the door, the two children had reached their vantage point. ‘Look how tall he is!’ Seren whispered, as they peeked around the corner of the counter to where the man lay stretched on the floor.

Her brother nudged her shoulder, putting his finger to his lips. The poor man looked a lot the worse for wear. Like one of the men on a stick his Ma always put up in the garden to keep away the crows…..all raggedy and limp.

[Forest Elf]

‘Now what’s going on out there?’ Rowan asked, fetching one of the bigger aprons for Gable.

“Well, a strange man fainted. I came in from the stables to get my, uh, some things.” Gable explained, since she still liked to keep the bow and arrows mostly a secret, only a few hobbits and visitors had ever actually seen her with them. “And Tollers was with a man who had fainted. I gave him some water then fetched the healer, Doc Puddifoot.”

Gable put on the apron, and started working on the dishes. She stacked them and put them away as she worked, her mind drifting back and forth from her work, and the pony, and the pony’s owner, who is either dead, or hurt, or lost…

[Tevildo]

The Doc carefully examined the fallen man and then clucked his tongue in exasperation. "Fortunately, he'll survive, but I am afraid this is what comes of living life on the edge! I expect this fellow has been out gallivanting on the roads and having no regular home life.... Listen all you young folk ! Do what your parents say and stick close to your burrow or farmhouse. That is, unless you want to end up collapsing in a heap on someone else's doorstep!"

Tollers could have sworn that the Doc had stared straight at him when he began moralising about the evils of a life lived on the road. The young hobbit wondered if his own parents had said anything to the Doc about their son's secret dreams of going out to see the world. As he'd been taught to do when younger, Tollers bit down on his tongue so as not to snap back and insult one of his elders. Privately, however, Tollers thought it would not be such a bad thing to collapse in a dramatic heap in someone else's parlor and have people rushing about to help, all curious about where you'd come from and what had caused you to collapse.

Doc gave more instructions about the stranger, saying that he should be gently lifted up and taken to one of the rooms and then put in bed. Since the fellow had already flipped the coin down, and it was enough to pay for his room and board that night, and at least two more nights to follow, no one had the heart or inclination to contradict the good doctor. Tollers and several other guests of the Inn grabbed onto the man's arms and legs and took him off down the hallway where the big folk's rooms were.

[Noinkling]

‘Now what are you two sprouts doing here in the shadows?’ A hand, big as a Shire ham, was laid lightly on Taffy’s shoulder. Big and broad as he was, Skirvir had come up quietly behind the two as they peeked out to see what was happening with the fainting man.

‘Looks like they’re taking him off for a rest,’ he went on, offering the children a hand up each. His eyes twinkled in the crackling light of the fireplace as he looked them over. ‘I’ve time for a bit of a story,’ he chuckled, raising a brow at Taffy. ‘That is, if you’ve the time for listening…..what with your sleuthing and such.’

[Undómë]

Two bowls of piping hot stew, a basket of warm, sliced bread, honey, butter, and a pot of plum conserve (for Will; it was one of his favorites as she recalled), a heaping plate of fried mushrooms, and two nice, full mugs of the hard cider from the cellar – that was the savory burden Rowan had balanced carefully on her tray.

‘There you go, you two,’ she said, smiling at the both of them as she deftly placed the food, drink, and condiments before them. ‘Now you let me know if I can fetch anything else.’

She paused for a moment, looking to where the man was disappearing through the door to the Big Folk rooms. She shook her head, turning back to Will and Prim. ‘I swear – we should mark this day on the calendar. Two injuries, one of the Big Folk gone all fainty, and an Elf who managed to nail her sleeve to the roof! Next year maybe we should shut the doors tight and just keep to our beds tile the day turns anew.’

‘Say!' she went on. 'I heard those two young Elves over there were going to sing and play for us.’ She looked hard at where Cir and Cir stood. ‘Can’t say as I see any flutes or pipes or such. Course maybe they’ll just magic something out of their sleeves or even the air.’ She chewed on the edge of her lip. ‘Maybe I should offer them some wine or ale or something to wet their whistles before they begin.’ Rowan made her way to where the two Elves were.

‘Pardon, Cir….. and Cir…..may I bring you something to drink before you play and sing?’

[Lilly]

Seren’s eyes were big as saucers as her little fist closed round one of the Dwarf’s fingers and hefted herself up to her feet. She regained her composure quickly, though, recalling the words he had used in greeting. Her chubby little fists were planted firmly on her hips and she cocked her head back, one eye considering him; her lips set in a disapproving pout.

‘Hey you! I’m not a sprout!’ she said in as forceful a way as her five year old self could muster.

Taffy sighed as he brushed off the knees of his pants and stood up straight. ‘My little sister,’ he said to Skirvir, as if those two words explained everything. ‘Seren,’ he went on, turning back to his sister. ‘This is the fellow who does carvings, too. Master Skirvir is his name, not “hey you”.’ He bent down closer to her. ‘Mind your manners or I’ll tell ma,’ he whispered.

[Noinkling]

The fiery response from the little girl tickled Skirvir no end. One of his older brothers had been graced with the birth of a daughter, a little spitfire much like Taffy’s sister. Skirvir bit back a chuckle, despite the fact that he found this display of her personality so pleasing. He was wise enough to know she would bristle again if she felt he were laughing at her.

‘Little mistress – Seren,’ he said, allowing a serious tone in his voice and a slight bow. ‘Your pardon; I did not mean to be rude. You will forgive me, I hope?’ He turned to Taffy, a renewed smile curving up just above his bushy beard. ‘What say we sit out on the porch a bit; I’m sure the innkeeper would lend us a lantern to hang from the eaves. It’s quieter out there, better for storytelling.’

He glanced up from the two young Halflings and saw another, older Halfling woman looking at them in a concerned manner. ‘Is that your mother?’ he asked the two children. ‘Perhaps we should go ask her permission.’

[piosenniel]

‘Haven’t danced in a month of Sterdays!’ the wizened old Hobbit had exclaimed. Her eyes sparkled in the light of the little candle lantern that hung above their table. ‘I hope they play some tunes to set the old feet tapping!’ Granny Greenhill grinned widely at Rhys and Tanni. 'Didn't you say you played the fiddle? And you sang?'

‘’Deed we do, Miz Penstemon!’ Rhys answered, buttering up a slice of bread. ‘Your honey, right?’ he went on spooning up a generous helping of amber colored honey from the pot Tanni had pushed near him.

‘He’ll be busy jamming his mouth full of sweets, Granny,’ Tanni said, laughing. ‘So to answer your question more fully – we do play and sing. It’s one of the pleasurable sides to our business of traveling about to find wares for our family’s livelihood….gathering up the sounds and rhythms of the places we go to.’ She pushed her empty bowl away and took a small sip of wine. ‘What about you Master Hithadan? Do you sing or play an instrument? Or are you a dancer, like Granny Greenhill?’ She raised a brow expectantly at him, a tinge of mischief playing at the corner of her smile.

[Lilly]

Taffy could see his mother motioning him to come quickly. Her hand was waving in a no-nonsense manner at both him and his sister. ‘Now just what are you doing bothering that man?’ Lilly asked her two children when they stood before her.

‘He’s here with his friends,’ Madoc continued, stepping up by his wife. ‘Relaxing, I’d bet after a day on the road.’

‘And I’m sure he does not want to be entertaining two young’uns such as yourselves,’ Lilly put in.

‘But Mami!’ protested Seren, speaking up before her parents could ssay another word. ‘He does want to ‘tain us! Don’t you?’ she added, turning to look at the Dwarf as he approached.

[Mithalwen]

‘Pardon, Cir….. and Cir…..may I bring you something to drink before you play and sing?’

Carantilion was still somewhat mournful, having heard too well the dwarvish comments despite his best attempts at courtesy. He had heard the stories of bitterness and strife of course but being a Noldo of Imladris, the refuge founded after his people had been driven from Eregion, he had also heard many stories first hand of how there had been a time when the they had worked in harmony with the Dwarves of Moria. Now they would have to prove that harmony of another kind was possible. In the mean time his sister had explained to Rowan that they had not yet eaten and were eager to try the provender before settling to their music making.

Finally Cir brightened. He had a fondness for mushrooms equal to a hobbit and the prospect of butter fried mushrooms and toast was balm to his gloomy spirits and resigning himself to whatever their fate might be when they rejoined the company of pilgrims he decided he might as well enjoy an evening of music making unrestrained by the conventions and hierachy of the Hall of Fire. Having waited for his siter to place their order for mushrooms, fish and a couple more tankards of the delicious ale, he ventured to ask of Rowan.

"Mr Boffin mentioned that the Inn had instruments but they might be too small, since we only have a whistle flute with us, do you think we might take a look and see if it would be possible. We can manage without but it would be better with... "

[Undómë]

‘Let me just ask Will where those instruments might be,’ returned Rowan. ‘He should know, as he sometimes get some of the fellows round here together to play and sing.’ She fetched a couple of large mugs of ale for the two Elves; then went to get the food they’d ordered. On her way to the kitchen, she stopped at Will and Prim’s table for a few quick questions on where she and the Elves might find the instruments the innkeeper had spoken of.

Rowan put the bowls of stew before Cir and his sister, along with two plates on which they could pile their mushrooms and their bread. In the middle of the table she placed a heaping plate of fried mushrooms and a basket of fresh, thick sliced bread. Butter, blackberry jam, and honey stood attendant on the Elves’ whims.

‘Once you’re done eating,’ she told them, ‘you can go through that door there, just to the side of the fireplace. The third door on the left is a small storeroom we tend to shove things into that only get used now and then. Will thinks the plain wooden chest where the extra band things are kept is against the far wall of the storeroom. It has an old birdcage on it, and a rather ratty looking fringed shawl we once used as a table runner for some gathering. Go ahead and poke about; find what you need. You can call me to help if you need to.’

She paused and gave a critical eye to the fare upon the table. ‘Now is there anything else you’ll be needing?’

[Mithalwen]

"No, thank you, this is a real feast" . Two pairs of bright eyes looked happily at Rowan. It wasn't fair to say that the pilgrim's rations were frugal but after weeks of travelling a proper hot meal was a real delight. "We will have a look as soon as we are done - though that might take some time" Cir grinned. "Thank you for your help".

Rowan was too busy to linger and the twins wasted no time in starting their meal and their disagreement forgotten for a while they fell into discussing in their own tongue the instruments they might find and the music they might play.

[Noinkling]

‘Don’t you?’

The little girl’s question invited an affirmative answer. But he thought perhaps he should first acquaint himself with Taffy and Seren’s parents. Miz Sandybanks had the very same look on her face he remembered his mother had when he and his brothers had overstepped her sense of proper social interaction.

Skirvir stepped a little closer to the family, nodding his head to Lily first and then to Madoc. ‘Let me introduce myself, goodmaster and goodmistress. Skirvir, I am; son of Skjald; from the Lonely Mountain, east of the Misty Mountains. My cousins and I,’ he went on, pointing to where Bívor and Bávor sat, ‘are traveling westward to the Blue Mountains, seeking some family of ours who are said to still live there.’

He pointed at Taffy, then, smiling. ‘I saw your son sitting on the step of the inn, carving some little beastie from wood. We struck up a small conversation. I’m also a carver, though my materials are gems. Your son has a steady hand and a good eye for detail for one so young, if I may say so. Anyway, to make a long story short, I did indeed promise a story to him, about the creature he was carving.’ Skirvir grinned at Seren who continued to look at him expectantly.

‘And of course, by extension, I would be more than happy to share the story with Seren. That is . . . if this is agreeable to you both.’

[Lilly]

Taffy gave a pleading look at his mother and crossed his fingers behind his back as insurance. Mothers could be quite funny in their decisions he knew from experience, and oft times not in a comical manner. He could see her sizing up the Dwarf, his looks, his speech, his manners. And if they were found wanting she might just order her two children off to their room and the give the Dwarf a polite, but quite firm, dismissal.

Seren, on the other hand, could barely contain her eagerness for her mother to make the ‘right’ decision. At a sharp, quick look from Taffy, though, she had squelched the whining protest she was about to make. And instead shifted from foot to foot impatiently.

Time stretched out in a long sticky stream, or so it seemed to Taffy. His mother had turned slightly to speak low with his father. Taffy held his breath. He could hear his heart beat loudly in his ears. Then, with a relieved little whoosh, he exhaled. Time had resumed its normal flow; his mother was turning with a smile toward Skirvir and making the introductions of herself and her husband.

A few quick words to both the children...Mind your manners now! Be polite to Master Skirvir!...were given. And received with hurried nods of affirmation as Taffy and Seren took hold of the Dwarf’s hands and prodded him toward the door.

‘We’ll stand you to a pint after!’ Madoc called to Skirvir’s retreating back. He waved a hand to the trio. ‘Nice folk you meet here at the Perch,’ he said, pulling the chair out for Lila to sit down. He reached into his pocket and fetched out his pipe and pouch of pipeweed. Soon a small cloud of smoke drifted up toward the rafters. A contented smile played on his lips as he looked about the room, his glance falling fondly and often on his dear, sweet wife.

[Envinyatar]

The Ranger raised his own brow at the teasing question. The evening was pleasant as was the company and he felt relaxed enough to give a like answer. ‘Well,’ he began, giving a nod to Miz Greenhill, ‘I have been known to step lively to a tune or two. Be pleased, m’am, to take a turn with you about the floor.’ He raised his mug and took a generous swallow of ale. ‘And given enough of this lovely beverage to wet my pipes, I think I can sing passably. Background, of course. I’m much better when I’m with someone who actually knows the tune.’

He reached for the pitcher and poured himself and Rhys a refill. Tanni still sipped on her wine. And as he looked questioningly at Granny, she tapped the rim of her own mug with ‘yes’ nod.

‘Half or fill?’ he asked, the lip of the pitcher poised over the mug.

[Rose]

‘Oh just a half!’ Penstemon grinned at the tall man, giggling to herself at the thought of such a big fellow leading her about the floor. She cocked her head at him and examined his face as he poured her ale. Handsome enough, she supposed….for one of the Big Folk, that is. And from the look on Tanni’s face as she watched the man, Penstemon supposed the woman thought much the same.

Never hold a candle to my own Rowlie she thought to herself, remembering what a fine dancer he’d been – very light on his feet.

And thinking of ‘feet’ she threw the Ranger a question, or rather a firm request; that is, that he would be careful with his big feet all clad up in hard-soled boots. ‘These toes have got to last me a few more years,’ she concluded. ‘So I’d be thankful if you didn’t mash any of them. Not that you will or would, just bringing it to your attention.’

From across the table she caught a stifled chuckle…

[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.

[Glirdan]

The Elves walked up after the meal was over and dropped a stack of instruments on the table. "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."

Kar got up and bowed deeply to the Elves. "Thank you for this. I shall be glad to play in such company." He picked it up and started twidling with a few notes to get into tune, and ended it by trilling a long, high C. "Fit as a fiddle!" he cried joyfully.

Bávor grinned 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?"

"I would very much like to know that myself," Kar added in interest. "If you just start playing the melody, I'll pick up the tune quite quickly."

[Lilly]

Taffy had pulled his knees up beneath his chin as he sat on the ground at Skirvir’s feet. His arms hugged them tightly as he shivered in anticipation of the next twist in the story. Seren scooted near enough to him that her shoulder leaned against him. He could feel her jump as the Dwarf spoke of the dragon roaring down upon the town. Taffy unclasped an arm from his legs and put it about his sister’s shoulders.

‘Be brave, Seren. Like Mister Bilbo,’ he whispered. He hugged her to him. 'I'm sure it will turn out just fine for Mister Bilbo and the Dwarves and the men in Dale, too.'

Taffy turned his attention back to Skirvir. He was quite taken with the story of the Hobbit from the Westfarthing. And scary as Mister Baggins adventure seemed at times, still Taffy found himself wondering if perhaps some day some even small bit of such an adventure might find him.

[Tam Lin]

He had not planned to stop in at the inn for the night. But there was a savory scent on the air and a pleasant, inviting light which shone from the windows. Tavaro’s stomach grumbled, urging him to turn into the dirt track that led to the front door.

From where he stood he could make out the wooden sign that hung from the post in the yard. A fish, golden in color, leaping upward from blue waters. His mind turned the image over in his mind, recalling at last that there had been mention of a pleasant place nestled along the river north of the Stock Brook. The Golden Perch, yes that was what his friend had called it.

Tavaro stepped off the dusty track and found his way through the shadows and the grass in the yard, to the small thicket of trees near the front of the public house. Two small figures stood in the doorway. And before them, holding court on the step, was a Dwarf. Tavaro listened closely to the words he spoke. A tale of gold and gems and battles and a mighty dragon. On the ground near the Dwarf’s feet two youngsters sat huddled together, listening attentively to the story he wove for them.

It was a fine story; what little he heard of it as he stood quietly. Tavaro’s lips moved silently in the darkness repeating the words as the Dwarf spoke them. Later he would put pen to paper and capture the tale twixt the pages of his chapbook.

‘Wonderful!’ he murmured to himself as the storyteller paused for a breath. In his eagerness to hear the remainder of the story, he stepped out from among the trees and quietly drew near to where the children sat. He lowered himself down, sitting cross-legged to the right of the boy. His hawthorn staff rested beside him, as did his leather satchel.

‘Excellent tale!’ he whispered to Taffy, a great grin on his face. He put his finger to his lips as both the Dwarf and the children looked at him. ‘I will be quiet now; I promise!’ he went on, nodding his head.

‘Please, Master Dwarf, continue.’

[Folwren]

Everything was finally slowing down. The dwarves and elves were picking up instruments, about to begin their promised songs, a group outside the door of the inn was listening to tales of another dwarf, and everyone else was waiting for the music. Dick sat down thankfully in the kitchen with a sigh. Gable and Cela were still working side by side at the counter, finishing up the necessary work.

Dick glanced up when he heard his name called from just outside the door. “Dick?” Lilly came into the kitchen, her shawl draped over her shoulders. “Dick, have you seen Daisy and Dorlind? I haven’t set eyes on them since they were in here eating dinner.”

Dick shook his head. “I don’t know where they are. Oh, wait,” he said after a pause. “I think I can guess. There’s a dwarf outside telling some story or other about a dragon, I think. They asked me earlier if they could listen, but I don’t think I answered them. They’re probably out there. Why?”

“I’m ready to go home and put those two to bed. They’ve got to be tired out.”

“They probably are,” Dick said, smiling. He took out his pipe and a pouch with some leaf in it. “Find them, and if they are listening to the story, let them stay until it’s finished.”

“Alright, dear. I’ll do that.” She leaned across the table for a kiss and once she’d gotten it, she headed towards the door. “Goodnight, Cela and Gable,” she said as she passed.

Lilly quietly made her way around to the front of the inn. A single lantern, it’s shutters fully opened, lit the darkness outside of it. In the circle of light, the dwarven storyteller sat, a handful of an audience around him, deeply enthralled in his story. Directly before him sat two children that Lilly didn’t know, and to his right sat the twins. An elf sat listening also, to her great surprise, his bright eyes fixed on the dwarf. Lilly took a step forward, her eyes fixed on the elf. This was certainly not one of that race who had come earlier.

She stopped outside the ring of light to wait and listen until the tale was ended.

--

Dick

The innkeeper sat at the kitchen table. He turned his unlit pipe around in his hand, looking hard at it, considering. After a moment, he sighed and put it away again. He stood up.

“I’m going to go check on that poor fellow who came in here and simply collapsed,” he told Gable and Cela as he walked towards the door. “If he’s awake, he may want something to eat, so I’ll be back shortly and tell you.”

He noticed the two Cir’s at a table. A collection of instruments lay there and the two of them, and one of the dwarves, seemed to be choosing what they would play. One dwarf already had a flute in his hand and he quietly played a simple tune, as though in practice. Dick smiled in their direction as he passed.

The quiet of the corridor met him as he passed through the door. He walked as quietly as he could (hobbits can be very quiet) up the hall. When he reached the door of the unknown guest’s room, he quietly turned the knob and eased it open.

[Volo]

Colren couldn't understand why he was in bed, a real bed. Something he hadn't felt for many years, that he felt. Completely confused but happy. Everything looked safe and he was unharmed, just hungry and dirty, but not tired. Should find out where I am, and how I got here. Everything seems somehow clearer, as if a curse left me. Though clear is a wrong word, I can't find any reason to be in a room like this. Or even be at all. Who am I anyway...

Colren sat in the bed smiling and examening the room with his eyes. The only light was coming from a little window, a torch lit outside by the wall. He searched for a candle and found one beside the bed on the floor. As he was thinking how to light it it, Colren felt a pouch attached to his belt. The candle was put back on the floor and as soon as he opened the pouch the door to the room opened and a young man's head peered in. A hobbit! This is really strange. I have rarelly seen folk like this, but they did seem like good people. Still, what are hobbits doing here. Wherever here is...

The man smiled at the hobbit as nicely as he could not knowing what to say. And not really finding any need in saying anything anyway. For some reason he decided that he liked the hobbit.

[Lilly]

Seren gave the Elf a very stern look before she turned away. The tale had just gotten to the part where the little bird had whispered to the man with the bow and she didn’t want to miss a single detail. She turned her attention back to Skirvir.

The man drew back the arrow on his bow and let fly the shaft...

The little girl snuggled up closer against her brother, holding her breath as the Dwarf drew out the image. Her eyes grew side as he went on, spiraling the little crystal dragon down and down to crash splashing in the lake. Seren smiled and nodded her head at Taffy’s words that things would work out alright. ‘They did! They did!’ she murmured to herself, wriggling in delight as she looked at the ‘dead’ beast.

‘And then what?’ she blurted out. ‘Did the Dwarves move back in? And what about Mister Baggins? Did he get his part of the treasure?’

Taffy nudged her in an effort to make her be quiet.

[Forest Elf]

Gable finished up the dishes, stacking the last of the cups and plates. She wiped her hands dry on her apron before placing it back upon its hook.

Gable walked out of the kitchen, where a dwarf, was telling a tale. She listened in on the tale, picturing it taking place in her head as she listened.

[Noinkling]

Skirvir nodded thoughtfully at Seren as she asked her questions. ‘Good questions!’ he assured her as he stroked the sides of his chin where his beard grew thick. ‘And you know, I think I’ll end the tale here with the answering of them.’

He leaned forward a little on the step, easing out his left leg where he’d bent it beneath him as he first sat down. His toes had gone to sleep and he wriggled them about in his boot trying to bring some feeling back into them. ‘Let’s see – we Dwarves did move back beneath the Lonely Mountain. Cleared the passageways of dragon filth and put the gold and gems and such into storage rooms. And Mister Baggins – well he fared well enough. One of the best paid burglars we Dwarves have had the pleasure to work with. Deserved every bit of his portion.’ He cocked his head to one side, thinking. ‘It would be interesting, don’t you think to have Mister Baggins here where we could let him tell us the rest of the story? How he fared getting back to Bag End and what adventures he had along the way. I’m afraid I only know a wee bit of it.....just what I’ve passed on to you.

Skirvir reached out for his little carving of Smaug and scooped him up along with the small pile of gold coins that had played the treasure. He stood up, shoving the coins into one pocket and the carving into another.

‘I think I see someone’s mother waiting for them,’ he said, looking toward Dorlind and Daisy. ‘And you two,’ he went on turning his gaze to Taffy and Seren. ‘Best I not keep you out too late, else your mami says no more stories for the both of you.’

He watched as the children headed toward the door of the inn, waving as they turned back to wave to him. From the corner of his eye, Skirvir saw the Elf rise up from his seat on the ground in a graceful, effortless motion. He paid him no more mind than this, and turned to follow after the children.

[Lilly]

‘Taffy, Seren! There you are now!’ Lila Sandybanks gathered her children to her with hugs as they came running in from outdoors. ‘Was it a good story?’ she asked them, smiling as they nodded their heads fiercely and vied with each other for space to make their opinions known. She listened to each, nodding her head at the appropriate times, and giving the occasional ‘Oh my!’ at the most exciting parts.

Seren had begun to yawn by the end of her recounting, though Taffy still looked wide awake. ‘Come help me get your sister to bed,’ his mother told him. ‘Bring along that little glass of warmed milk for her, won’t you?’ she said, pointing toward the little tray Rowan had left for her. At a frown of protest from Seren, Lila shook her head ‘no’; it was the girl’s bedtime. And ‘yes’ there was a spoonful of honey and just a drop of vanilla to make the sleepytime drink bring sweet dreams. It was not long before Seren had gone off to sleep, mid-grumble about how unfair it was that she had to go to bed just because she was five years old.

Taffy returned to the common room with his mother. She’d told him there was to be music tonight. And older lad that he was now, he could stay up for a bit to listen. He beamed with a certain pride at this allowance......and stifled a yawn that was trying to work its way to his mouth.

[Tam Lin]

Tavaro stamped the dirt from his boots and shook his cloak a bit, encouraging the dust from his travels to find another resting place. The others having gone in, he stood for a moment at the closed door of the inn, debating once again whether he would rather spend the night in the open, beneath the starred sky or enter the confines of the Perch.

His left hand came up, making the decision for him it seemed, and pushed open the door. A rush of warm air, flickering light, and the smells of wood smoke commingled with those of pipeweed and food washed over and around him. Voices rose and fell amidst the clink of mugs against each other, laughter wove about them. And it was a merry sound, he thought, inviting. His boots followed the entry of his staff as it tapped lightly on the wooden floor of the entryway.

Spying a small out of the way table where he could observe the goings on in the room, Tavaro made his way toward it, slipping gracefully among the other, more crowded tables. An accommodating server took his order – hot tea and honey and a bowl of that enticing stew if there were any left.

There, nearer the fire was the Dwarf he’d heard tell the tale of Smaug. With several other of his kin....and two young Elves. And just coming back into the room was the boy he’d sat next to. As he waited for his food and drink, he drew out one of his small books and a piece of hardened charcoal wrapped on one end in a scrap of cloth. He looked closely toward the table of Dwarves and began to sketch them.

[Folwren]

Dick had scarcely put his head in at the door before the stranger turned his eyes towards him. A short pause followed and then the man smiled. Dick returned it and came in.

Colren looked peaceful where he lay. He was not afraid, and he had a friendly look in his face. Dick felt he liked him almost at once. The trusting sort of people were always easy to get along with.

“Good evening, sir!” Dick said in a quiet voice. “You had quite a tumble walking into the common room, I must say.” He smiled broadly as he came by the bedside. “How do you feel now? Do you think you could eat something?”

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan excused himself from his companions saying he would be back in a moment. An old friend, he went on. And one not seen in a long time. He walked quietly up behind the fellow at the small table and peeked over the man’s shoulder at the sketch he was making.

His eyes flicked to the subject of the drawing – the Dwarf with the reddish hair. The artist had caught him well – big, full of life, with a certain fire scarce banked within.

The Ranger was just about to speak, when the Elf paused in his sketching and spoke first.

[Volo]

Colren was really pleased, about the "Think you could eat?"-part. He was indeed confused, as hard as he tried, he couldn't remember anything about tumbling, or for the matter anything else. Who am I anyway? Time to find out! This hobbit must know.

"Thank you, it would be nice, I was just wandering about food." Oh no! I won't be able to pay for it, by the look of me, I haven't got any money... "I mean, I would appreciate, if I could work for my food. I don't have money." Shouldn't have said that... This hobbit might know more than I do. Well, what is said is said... But I not a friend of a hobbit am I? I can't remember him anyway... Colren stood up and embarrassedly asked: "Excuse me, but how were you called again, sir? And what do you mean by tumbling?"

[Tam Lin]

‘Come! Have a seat, O cumbrous of foot and ponderous of breath!’ Tavaro turned round in his seat and looked his old friend up and down, laughter glinting in his eyes. He put down his charcoal and held up the small sketch he’d been working on. ‘Not too bad a likeness, eh?’ Closing the chapbook, he shifted it to one side, the piece of charcoal resting on the battered cover.

‘What a delight to see you here!’ the Elf continued, watching as Hithadan lowered himself into the seat across the small table. Tavaro’s eyes did a quick circuit of the firelit room. ‘Tell me,’ he said in a low voice, his gaze now back on the man. ‘Are you here merely to slake thirst and fill belly? Or have you your keen gaze set on something or someone?’

[Folwren]

Dick stuck his hands into his pockets as Colren admitted to being hungry. He was glad when a fellow was honest about it. And the poor chap was worried about not being able to pay! Dick shook his head as Colren continued.

"Excuse me, but how were you called again, sir? And what do you mean by tumbling?" the man asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

“I’m Seredic Boffin, at your service,” Dick replied. “Mostly called Dick, though.” He cocked his head to one side and his bright eyes studied the tall, thin figure of the man. “Don’t remember your entrance, hey? Well, now, I’m right glad you happened to come into my door just before falling as you did. Aye, you fell right enough.” He nodded his head. “Came in, plopped down a coin on top the counter, called for ale, and then went out like a candle.

“That coin you paid, too, that’ll be enough for your dinner and a night here and maybe more. Depends on just what you need.” He looked up briefly at the man’s face. “Do you want me to bring you something here, or would you like to come out to the great room? We’ve got some elves and dwarves preparing a few songs for our entertainment. You might enjoy that. And you might find someone to talk to. Won’t you come out?”

[Volo]

Relieved that he guessed most of his words right, he still made a mistake, after all Colren seemed to have money. He was also starting to guess where he was, at least he now knew that this was an inn of some kind. Nice guy, this Dick. For his kindness I have to at least present myself. Ah, can't even remember my name... this tumble, I fainted. That must be the reason for this confusion. But so far all has been fine, I'll just continue like this.

"Master Seredic, nice to meet you! I go by the name..." It must be, "Krohn", I remember I've heared this many times, it's my name! "...Kro..." No, wait, it can't be, I feel that this name is lost... dead. No no no, what is going on. I'm called... "Ne", no. "Nor", yes... wait. No! "Na"? "Naren"? Yes, this is it! What's the difference anyway, I shall be called "Naren", nobody will care if I'm not really "Naren". "...Naren. As for my collapse, I'm quite fine now. I'll come to the hall, I would enjoy music over anything, exept food!"

Colren, or Naren as he now thought of himself, followed Dick to the door but then remembered. "Excuse me, I'll just arrange my belongings and tidy myself somehow. It won't take long." Dick nodded and left the room. "Thank you!" shouted Naren.

Now, some time to see more about my past. Colren sat down on the bed and took out his pouch. It was made of strong leather and by the wait and size did contain something interesting. Hmm... Surelly this can't belong to the same man who is in clothes as ragged as mine. He slowly opened the pouch with his eyes closed... As Colren opened his eyes, he dropped the pouch with and let a shout of astonishment.

His pouch was full of gold! Golden coins! By the look of them, the coins were from Gondor. But that was not all Colren's pouch contained. There were neatly put letters. Colren took the first one, an old and weathered letter and opened it. He read it once, then again, and again. A tear came down his cheak...

The letter was dated III 2937. And written by a woman called Elisi, just a typical love-letter: lots of promises and complaining how evil parents are. But of course to Colren, who still didn't know his real name, for the letter was adressed to "My Love", this meant much. He remembered something, Elisis eyes. He lived with her after her father died. Anything else Colren couldn't understand yet. He also desided to read the rest later.

Colren hid his pouch and exited the room, to confirm the house to be an inn. He walked to the door looking around and examening the smallest details, Colren literaly bumped into a younger but stouter hobbit, smelling of fish. The two fell on the floor. Colren was the first one to recover. He helped the hobbit to his feet and said "I'm terribly sorry. I was lost in my thoughts. Hope you aren't hurt." But the hobbit didn't look hurt, rather suprised. "Oh, my name is Naren." Colren added with a smile.

[Tevildo]

Tollers brushed himself off and extended a hand of welcome to the newcomer. "No bother. No bother at all, Naren . I am pleased to meet you and that your earlier tumble was nothing serious. Lucky thing I wasn't carrying any plates or flagons this time. But don't worry. This mishap was entirely my fault. I'm afraid I was lollygaggling as usual." To tell the truth, the hobbit had been ruminating on his coin and how he might find out about the room the dwarves would be occupying, wondering if he should try to ask Master Dick or do some discreet sleuthing on his own.

Masking his embarrasment, Tollers smoothed out the front of his vest, his fingers instinctively slipping inside the inner pocket to make sure that his treasured coin still rested within its hiding place. To his acute distress, the hobbit discovered his pocket was empty. A look of alarm spread instantly over Toller's face.

"Oh, dear, dear, I seem to have dropped something.....something important," he mumbled to Naren. "You go over by the bar and make yourself at home. Someone will serve you in a minute. You're not from these parts, I think, but the folk around here are quite friendly. I'll join you in just a minute. That is...unless you'd like to help me look. You see, I've lost a coin, a special coin, and must find it immediately."

With that Tollers plopped down on all fours and began crawling about the floor, nosing under tables and chairs to see if his precious gold piece was anywhere nearby. Once or twice, he managed to bump into the feet of some of the guests and apologized for his clumsiness. A number of the customers looked at him in a rather odd way. Tollers wished that someone could help him, although he was afraid that whoever picked up the coin would ask too many tricky questions for him to answer truthfully. Meanwhile, in the background, the hobbit could hear the strains of a lively tune that any lad or lass would find perfectly delightful for dancing.

[Volo]

So, this hobbit also knows me. But not well, that is good. Colren was looking as the poor hobbit started crawling on the floor. And I thought I had no money... How can a coin be so important? Coins are just cold metal. And for some reason I don't feel easy with metal around... After all Colren couldn't just stand there watching the hobbit being kicked by careless feet. He began crouching himself and looking for the peace of metal. I might not like coins because I have lots of them myself, suprisingly.

After a long and pointless search Colren crawled up to his new acquaintance and asked "I'm sorry that you lost your coin, it was really my mistake, for that I have to help. But it would be helpfull if you could describe this coin somehow... Or I could just replace it, people have to pay for their mistakes and that I will do. If you wish." Colren was rather frustrated and really wished that the hobbit would accept Colren's Gondorian coin instead of searching for his own "precious" coin. Also Colren was getting really hungry, of course he tried his best not to show his feelings. Also the music was tempting Colren leave the hobbit to his problems. What am I thinking? This lad needs help, so I'd better help if nobody else wants to. And this is partly my fault. At that Colren smiled a bitter smile.

[Folwren]

Now what was this?

Dick stood in the doorway leading into the Big People’s wing of the house. His arms were folded as he watched Naren and Tollers crawl about the floor on their hands and knees. He chuckled as Tollers emerged from a near by table, red in the face and apologetic for the sixth time as he explained to one of the customers what was going on.

As funny as it seemed, however, Dick knew it wasn’t good business to be bumping into people while they tried to talk. He walked forward to intercept Tollers’ searching and to ask what it was all about. As he drew near, he saw Naren stop near the hobbit and sit up.

“I’m sorry that you lost your coin,” the man said, “it was really my mistake, for that I have to help. But it would be helpful if you could describe this coin somehow…or I could just replace it. People have to pay for their mistakes and I will do that, if you wish.”

Dick stopped a few paces away, wondering. A coin? Where had Tollers acquired a coin? And why was it causing him to crawl over every foot of the common room to search for it? He looked towards Tollers, wondering what his answer to Naren would be.

[Tevildo]

Tollers glanced back over his shoulder at Colren and warily shook his head. Although the hobbit's words were exceedingly polite, the dour look that was spread over his face underlined just how upset he was over the loss of his dear coin, "Oh, no. You're very kind indeed, but I'm afraid this coin can't be easily replaced. You see, it's special. It's very old and has a picture of a dwarf axe on one side."

Tollers hastily bit his tongue and stopped himself from saying anything more. It would not do to give out more information. His friend Jack had told him to be quiet about their find until they could go back and look again. Still, the hobbit knew his precious had to be somewhere nearby. He distinctly remembered hearing something clink and roll away when he'd first taken his tumble.

"I just need to look harder," Tollers muttered to himself. With that, he put his nose to the ground and, like a hound on the trail, redoubled his efforts to locate his missing "precious".

[Forest Elf]

Gable thought she'd head over and talk to Cir and Cir again. She had only walked a few paces when she saw Toller's crawling about, looking for something. Then, to her left a bit, she saw something shiny. She walked over and leaned down, it was a gold coin, with a hammer on one side.

Gable walked over to Tollers, who was still crawling around; and asked holding the gold coin out, "Excuse me, Tollers, but did you loose a gold coin?"

[Tevildo]

Tollers looked up at the Elf and sheepishly nodded. His pants were covered with dustballs, and he had tripped over the feet of at least half a dozen guests. After wiping his dirty palms on the shoulders of his vest, he held out his hand to the Elf and grinned, "Errr...that does seem to be my coin. Thank you. Thank you so much for finding it. I really don't know what I would have done if I had permanently lost it."

This time, Tollers tucked the gold coin securely in the small leather pouch that he wore about his waist. He was still feeling a little nervous about the Elf. He had never seen or talked with such a graceful creature until he'd come to work at the Inn. Some of the staff seemed so free and easy about the Elves, but Tollers always felt as if he had two left feet or perhaps an extra ear stuck to his head whenever he found himself confronting one of the fair ones face-to-face. Still, it would not do to be unfriendly. Master Dick had given Tollers more than one friendly lecture on how he must make an effort to show interest in the guests, even those who might look a little strange on the outside.

Stumbling over his words, Tollers managed to stammer out an invitation, "Looks like the dinner business is slacking off. I'm going to get a little supper. Care to join me? Perhaps listen to the music? And, you too....." He glanced over quizzically at the tall fellow who'd banged into him and wondered if he'd accept an invitation to eat. "You know, I'm just a simple farm lad, but I bet you two both have some wild stories to tell."

For the moment at least, Tollers forgot about the coin and the fact that he wanted to speak with one of the Dwarves later that night.

[Lilly]

Taffy works up the courage to speak to Cir and Cir


Taffy grew restless on the hard wooden chair; no amount of wriggling could make it any more comfortable. His mother and father were busy discussing the next day’s business – lucky for him, really, since their attention was turned away from him. He hopped down from his seat as quietly as he could and made his way toward the table where the Dwarves were sitting.

On his way, he saw a curious sight. A hobbit crawling about on hands and knees looking for something. He had been joined by one of the Big Folk. And even with his help, it seemed that luck eluded the Hobbit. But there was one of the Fair Folk, a pretty lady. Her sharp eyes had found the little trinket and handed it back to the Hobbit. Taffy smiled and nodded his head. He liked things to turn out well.

A glance back at the Dwarves’ table put him back on his little mission. He crept closer, stopping a little ways away. He didn’t want to bother the Dwarves and their company – two Elves. He just wanted to see what interesting things they were doing.

Two of them had flutes, while another seemed to be clearing his throat and humming. Oh! I’ll bet he’s going to sing! Taffy thought to himself. Skirvir did not seem that much into the festivities. Perhaps he was just resting after the grand story he’d told earlier. The Elves, too, had their instruments. Now Taffy had heard that the Fair Folk had wonderful voices. And when they sang it was as if the wind sang through the trees.

Unable to resist, the boy stepped up to the table and looked up at the Elves. The back of his neck grew hot and he could feel a flush creeping up to his cheeks.

‘Pardon me,’ he said, his voice a little croaky as his mouth had suddenly become quite dry. He fixed his eyes on the fair faces of the Elves. ‘Are you going to sing some Elvish songs for us?’

[Valesse]

More than a bit exhausted from her travels, Valesseka had stumbled into a little establishment with curiously short beings running around in it. Completely uncertain to what they were, she was at first careful to not inspect one too closely. That was, however, until she caught scent of some savory smell waffing down from the air. Certainly this community of small beings must be excellent chefs, and Valesseka was not one to miss a good meal.

She found the Golden Perch Inn easily, but finding the door took a far greater amount of time. Who had ever heard of a round door? A round green door at that! Double checking to make sure that she was, indeed, about the enter the inn and not some curious halfling's house Valesseka ducked her way inside. Here there were many tiny folk. Several more than she had seen outside, for sure, and that excited her. When she straightened out again from navigating through the doorway, the Arnorian took in more of the commonroom. to her right the counter and before her a large fireplace which paled in comparison to the warm atmosphere the room was given by the clients.

Simply put, Valesseka felt very much at home here. Perhaps so much so that she would prefer to stay a night or two to regain her energy to head along once more toward home. Forgetting the counter for now, Valesseka sat down in a very inviting looking chair before surveying the room once more.

[Volo]

When the hobbit said "Oh, no. You're very kind indeed, but I'm afraid this coin can't be easily replaced. You see, it's special. It's very old and has a picture of a dwarf axe on one side", Colren became sad. Not understanding why, but guessing that it was some hidden memory. What do I have against coins... or dwarves? Coins are just coins and dwarves... well, they are just dwarves, no reason to dislike them. Still Colren didn't like the idea of this.

An elf came and gave the hobbit, Tollers his coin. That is that. Now, without any more messing, to eat! Though, this elf woman... Colren couldn't place an elf into his life, but he didn't feel too happy about them either. Neither elves seemed mysterious Hobbits on the other side, they are really nice. Live a happy life, what else could anyone want. He did feel that he would talk much more with the strangers in the inn.

As Colren was brushing his clothes clean and watching somewhere into the corner, Tollers managed to say something about supper, music and joining him. Corlen turned and looked Tollers into his eyes. The hobbit continued "You know, I'm just a simple farm lad, but I bet you two both have some wild stories to tell." "A simple farm lad" doesn't sound so bad. But how can I know, doubt that I would be a good farmer... I'd be happy to chat with Tollers, but the elf... Oh, I'll try... "Wild stories", I can't really be telling those, I know less wild stories than any hobbit. At the moment. The elf can do the storytelling! Colren smiled again. "It would be an honor to eat with you two. If it's fine with you, let's sit in a corner." Colren turned to the elf, "I am Naren. Rarelly meet so easygoing elves..." Huh? Why did I say that? Aargh, this hidden memory makes me mad! I might not even want to know the answer to all this. Why can't I just live peacefully? Colren's smile wasn't real anymore.

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan sat back in his chair, his hand going up to rub the back of his neck. ‘Ah, well, I did have someone I thought would need keeping watch on. A shady looking fellow I had my eye on before he came to the inn. He looked a ruffian or near enough one that I wanted to make sure he didn’t bother the good folks hereabouts.’

He took a swallow of the tea Tavaro had poured for him and watched as the Elf continued to sketch. ‘What about you? What business brings you here?’

[Mithalwen]

Cir had taken the harp for himself. He could play flutes and the like well enough but stringed instruments seemed to have more individual personalities, of course it would not provide the same excuse not to sing. He touched its strings, it was small and horribly out of tune but he could soon fix that at least and it seemed sweet voiced enough. His slender hands had turned the pegs gently trying each note gently so as not to disturb the company until they started properly. His ears were able to distiguish the harp's notes at a level almost inaudible to mortals and he finished with a pianisimmo glissando.

He was ready to begin, when a voice sounded tentatively at his side ‘Pardon me are you going to sing some Elvish songs for us?’.

Carantilion looked at Taffy, mesmerised a little by the hobbit child, "Well we thought we would mainly sing things that everyone might know and tunes for dancing" but seeing the child's face drop in disappointment he added " but we will sing some Elvish songs if you want us to but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that?".

[Valesse]

Valesseka frowned to herself. There was a pair of elves not far from her, accompanied with an even smaller version of the short beings which filled this place, and though she could clearly hear Taffy and Carantilion speaking to one another, she could not hear a single note the other elf had played on his harp.

Trying not to be obvious about it, the Arnorian leaned in toward the trio. It had been a while since she had heard any decent music. There was very little to sing about on the road she had just travelled, and for most of the journey she lacked the spirit to consider it.

Suddenly noticing her thirst she abandoned her post and slid toward the counter and waited semi-patiently for a working to catch sight of her. Hopefully it wouldn't be a long wait. The elves looked about ready to preform and Valesseka did not want to miss a moment of it.

[Lilly]

. . . but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that?

Taffy found the Elf’s voice quite bewitching, and he could not feature at first how such a lovely voice could deliver unhappy sounds. He craned his head to the right and looked up at the fair face. As lovely as the fellow’s voice was, the Elf’s features were even more delightful.

Except his eyes…

They were grey; the sort of grey as hovered over the river and the lakes near Taffy’s home. A sad sort of grey that for a moment made the young Hobbit feel as if he were in the presence of something very, very old.

The boy looked away. Sad or not, though, the words and tunes might be, Taffy thought, he had a longing to hear them.

‘Well, my Granpa sings sad songs, too, sometimes. Especially when the little forest near us turns from fall towards winter and the river gets a little crust of ice along its banks. We have a nice little fire in the fireplace and tell stories and Granpa gets down his little fiddle and sings . . . songs about things he remembers from way back.’

Taffy stepped back from Cir a ways, so that he could see the Elf without craning his neck. ‘Here’s one my Granpa sings and we all get real quiet when he does. He makes it sound so sad with his voice and his fiddle.’

He stood tall, as his Granpa said he should when he sang, and clasped his hand behind his back. The first few notes were hesitant as he tried to recall the tune, then his little boy’s voice rang out soft and pure.

Oh! Calm was the lake of Coolfin on that day,
When o'er its wide waters we glided along,
No cloud in the heavens o'er shadow'd our way,
And light hearted laughter was join'd in our song.

The wild winds of Winter now sweep o'er the lake,
The snowdrift lies deep on its desolate shore,
The roll of the thunder its echoes awake,
And summer time smiles on its bosom no more.

As bright is the sunshine of youth's early day,
As gay are the pleasures our life may begin;
In this world below they must soon pass away,
And be overcast as the lake of Coolfin....

The last note faded away and he looked expectantly toward the Elf.

‘Well, there you go. One of my Granpa’s sad songs. Your turn…’

[piosenniel]

Tanni leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand, her arm resting on the smooth top of the table. So wrapt in the song and the lad’s voice, she was unaware that her elbow rested in a small puddle of water earlier spilled from her mug.

‘Well done!’ she cried out, clapping her hands in delight as he finished his song. ‘Lovely, wasn’t it?’ she asked turning to Rhys.

He was silently fingering the tune on his fiddle, fixing the melody in such manner in his mind for later play. ‘We should ask him to go over the words with us later,’ Rhys replied. ‘Tis a lovely tune.’ He picked up his bow and put it to the strings. ‘Let’s do this one, eh?’ he he said nodding at Tanni.

She stood at his side and spoke loud enough to be heard above the clatter of mug and cutlery and the conversation. ‘Since it’s a sad song this lad has sung, my brother and I would like to add another. That is, if you don't mind. One we heard in our travels . . . one from along a lonely, rock strewn strand on the Great Sea . . .

~*~

By the storm-torn shoreline (http://preview.mp3sugar.com/f/162019.mp3), a woman is standing,
The spray strung like jewels in her hair;
And the sea tore the rocks near that desolate landing,
As though it had known she stood there.

For she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

Oh, and white were the wave caps and wild was their parting,
So fierce is the warring of love;
But she prayed to the gods, both of men and of sailors,
Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love.

Now she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

There's a school on the hill where the sons of dead fathers,
Are led toward tempests and gales;
Where their God-given wings are clipped close to their bodies,
And their eyes are bound 'round with ship's sails.

And she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

What force leads a man to a life filled with danger,
High on seas or a mile underground?
It's when need is his master and poverty's no stranger,
And there's no other work to be found.

But she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

[Tam Lin]

‘What about you?’ Hithadan asked. ‘What business brings you here?’ The man looked at him expectantly.

‘Shhhh!’ Tavaro put his finger to his lips and raised and eyebrow at his friend. ‘She has a lovely voice, don’t you think so?’ He steepled his fingers and rested his chin lightly on them. ‘It is an altogether different sort of sadness that the Secondborn bear, or so I think,’ he murmured, listening to melody as it underwove the singer’s words. ‘We Firstborn cannot know it, long as we might for the World as it once was.’ He gave his companion the briefest of half smiles. ‘There is no taste of death for us. We do not pass away from this world. The world passes away from us; fades . . .’

His gaze slid from the woman to the small boy. ‘Elven songs are lovely, I’ll give you that. But those of Men are bittersweet. And of late I find them much to my liking.’

Tavaro nodded to the woman and man as they finished their song. ‘I hope they will sing another. Do you think they might?’

[Arry]

Once the last song had ended, Will stood up from his table and excused himself from Prim. ‘I’ll just be a moment. I need to see Miz Cela about a little more willowbark tea. My hand is starting to hurt something fierce.’ He grinned at his companion. ‘Better make room for a mugful yourself. You know Cook will be wanting to give you a dose, too.’

--o--

‘Miz Cela?’ Will asked, poking his head through the kitchen door. ‘Are you there?’ The lights were turned low in the kitchen; the supper rush over. ‘It’s me - Will,’ he went on, stepping into the room.

[Mithalwen]

Carantilion was about to renege on his vow not to sing when Tanni and Rhys struck up their own song. Cir was fair minded enough to acknowledge they played and sang well enough but his finely formed aquiline nose was slightly put out of joint. If the mortals did not refrain from sad songs why should he and while Tanni and her brother received the applause of the gathering he hissed at his own sibling that they better do something before Dick decided they weren't worth their keep.

He touched the harp strings again and though it was a smaller and more rustic instrument than he was used to its chords now reverberated in the common room and pride overcame Carantilion's doubts about his voice in it's adult register. Its tenor suited the plangent melody perfectly and his accompaniment was swelled by harmonies provided by his sister.


O Gil-galad i Edhelchír
dim linnar i thelegain:
Im Belegaer a Hithaeglir
Aran ardh vethed vain a lain.

Gariel maegech Gil-galad,
Thôl palan-gennen, ann-vegil;
A giliath arnoediad
Tann thann dîn be genedril.

Dan io-anann os si gwannant
A mas, ú-bedir ithronath;
An gîl dîn na-dúath di-dhant,
vi Mordor, ennas caeda gwath

Translated by Ryszard Derdzinski (http://www.elvish.org/gwaith/gilgalad.htm)

[Forest Elf]

"That sounds good, and you know me, I've always been on my own crazy adventures, though, some only in my head." Gable replied, scratching her head.

"Though, I should probably change out of my boy's clothes. I'll meet you two over there." Gable added, and headed up the stairs.

[Folwren]

Dick felt rather curious about Tollers’ coin, but he had no chance to question him about it. Gable had come near and offered it to him and Tollers and Colren had stood up. A few words passed and Tollers and Colren walked off with each other while Gable hurried quickly from the room. Dick shrugged and decided to leave him without questioning until later, at least.

“I wonder if that’s why he wanted to know where the dwarves were going to sleep tonight,” he murmured to himself as he walked through the common room. “A coin with a dwarven axe on it. . .very old, he said. I wonder where he got it?” He ‘hmmed’ to himself as he cast a quick eye over everyone to make sure nothing was needed.

He only half listened to the songs being sung as he walked quietly about, his mind drifting from one duty to the next and considering the happenings of the day. It had been a very long day. . .Dick welcomed these calmer, more thoughtful songs, melancholy and sad though they were. When Cir and Cir had first asked him if they could play for their keep, he had thought dancing and such, but now, the singing of old songs seemed more fit.

He stopped his progress when he heard the elvish song start. The music accompanying the two voices was more sad than the other two and though Dick didn’t understand the words, the language of the harp and the voices touched and pulled at his heart.

The last notes faded and a silence filled the room momentarily. Dick finally drew a great sigh and turned his eyes away from the performers. His once more glanced around and to his surprise, saw a young woman at the counter. She leaned on it slightly and her eyes, too, were fixed on the singers. Dick hurried forward and went around the counter just as talk was beginning again around the room.

“I’m so sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Can I help you?”

[Envinyatar]

The fair voice of the male Elf was clear and bright in the smoke filled room. And that of his sister wove in and about the lament in a lovely harmony. Hithadan’s gaze swept round the room, gauging the crowd’s reaction. Not many, indeed hardly any of those gathered, would understand what the song was about. But he could read in their faces their appreciation of the great sorrow which lay behind the words.

‘Now tell me Gil-galad’s fate was not sung most sorrowfully and most fair,’ he spoke low to Tavaro. ‘Surely the songs of the lad and of Mistress Tanwen are tinged with sorrow. But that of the Elves just sung is marrow-deep sorrow itself.’

[Volo]

While the elf went to change. Colren and Tollers walked into the corner of the inn and sat down. Colren ordered some basic (but not by Naren-standards) food and beer for the three. I have money. Big money. It mightn't be such a good idea to use them rather openly, but I'm starving. Only, the origin of all this gold is strange...

"Tollers, so you got your coin back and all's well. But I would like to know more about the people here, while our companion is away, I would appriciate if you could tell me."

[Noinkling]

When Taffy had begun to sing, Skirvir had nodded at Bívor, miming as he did so that he pick up his flute. The two Dwarves played very softly, letting the boy’s words be to the fore while their little harmonies gently ran beneath it.

For the woman’s song, it was Skirvir who played along with the man’s fiddle. He had ventured once with his father and a small group of his father’s companions down to the Sea of Rhun. It was the largest body of water the young Dwarf had ever seen. And though now he knew the Great Sea was ten times ten time ten bigger, still the daunting majesty of that smaller sea stayed with him. And when he recalled stories from the older Dwarves of that great water that hemmed in the lands of their world, he was in awe of the fact that men would venture out upon it for any reason.

As the Elves began to play, Bívor once again raised his flute to his lips. But his brother, Bávor, waved him to silence as the first clear notes left Cir’s lips.

‘Now, that was a lovely song, was it not? I can’t say as I understood any of it. But someone much beloved must have died; someone held very dear,’ Bávor said.

Bívor cocked his head at Skirvir. His cousin’s hands were clasped about his ale mug, his eyes peering into it as if were a bottomless well. ‘Now you can’t say that wasn’t as fair a song as you have heard,’ Bívor said, nudging his cousin from his woolgathering.

For his part, Skirvir looked up, meeting Bívor’s gaze. ‘Oh, aye….it was fair, in it’s own way. Bit on the gloomy side. But fair enough, I’ll reckon it.’

Bávor laughed, and topped off his cousin’s mug, as well as his own and his brother’s. ‘A rare compliment from a Dwarf to an Elf!’ In broad gestures he mimed writing on the palm of his hand. ‘I shall have to put this day down in my journal of our trip and mark it with a star, I think.’

Skirvir raised his bushy brows and grumbled something at Bávor. Then shrugged his shoulders grudgingly and drank down half his mug.

[Lilly]

There had not been much sorrow passed through Taffy’s life. His brief eleven years had so far been happy ones. And the song he’d sung, the one he’d learned from his granpa, was only sad to because it made his granpa sad. His granpa's wrinkly face would settle into deeper furrows, and his eyes grow misty when he sang it.

He’d asked his granpa once what it was that made him so sad. The old man had shook his head, swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and then mustered a smile at Taffy. ‘No need to be worrying over your old granpa’s weepy ways, my boy. When you get as old as I am sometimes you remember some things that happened long ago, not all of them sad in them selves, mind you. Sometimes they’re just good things that happened or good people that came into your life and now are gone forever.’ He’d ruffled Taffy’s hair and given him a firmer smile, the boy remembered. ‘Right now you’re just making those memories. Life is good and happy, and that’s the way it should be for you.’

Taffy looked at his parents. They sat very quiet at the end of the Elf’s song. His mother had that glisten in his eye and his father bore a sort of faraway and thoughtful look. This was to be expected he reasoned, them being so much older than he.

Now Taffy did feel a certain sort of sadness from the Elves’ song, enhanced somewhat by his parents’ apparent sorrowful demeanor. He wondered, though, that someone as young as Cir appeared could sing something so sad.

‘Pardon me,’ he said, drawing near to where the Elves stood. ‘I liked that very much. It was really pretty. And seemed very sad, just like you said.’ He made a wry face, his mouth in a small moue. ‘But what was it you were so sad about? Did you lose someone in your family. Or a friend?’

[Tam Lin]

‘But that’s just it, isn’t it,’ Tavaro replied to Hithadan. His eyes were on the young Halfling as the boy spoke to the Elves. ‘His song and that of the man and woman were tinged with sorrow; the sadness bleeding into the joy of being alive. It seems to me that the sorrow of men is enfolded somehow by hope and the simple thankfulness of being alive.’ He smiled softly, turning from the tableau of the boy and Elves back to his friend.

‘That hope, that subtle joy – it makes me glad that the One conceived of them and brought them into being.’ He glanced toward the table where the man and woman sat. For a brief moment his he caught Tanwen’s eye, She was gazing his way it seemed. But at second glance, he noted, it was his companion who drew her study.

[Mithalwen]

‘But what was it you were so sad about? Did you lose someone in your family. Or a friend?’ Taffy had asked Cir. The young elf pulled a stool from under the table and offered it to the hobbit lad and paused for a moment thinking how best to explain.

"Not exactly, for the song tells of the death of Gil-Galad, the last King of the High-Elves in Middle Earth and that happened at the end of the last age of the world " said Cir, then noticing that this didn't seem to convey much to Taffy he added "nearly three thousand years ago, and we are not yet fifty summers old. But our father and grandfather, and our uncle Cirion all fought in the army of Gil Galad in the Black Land but only our father came back. He hates it if we sing that song at home and our mother says that for him the memory of that time is still too painful. " The young elf's face tensed at a memory and then brightened. "But we sing merrier songs too - Oh Sister dear, shall we make them smile as well as weep?" he added mischievously with mock courtesy to his sibling. He ducked lest she swipe him in retaliation and grinned at Taffy.

[Firefoot]

"I'm here, Will, just a moment," called Cela from inside the large pantry. "Just putting some things away." She smiled at Will as she emerged; she had not forgotten the earlier incident but was determined both not to acknowledge it and to make up for it. "I was starting to wonder how you and Primrose were getting on. Feeling any better? Or is that tea starting to wear off?"

"More of the second, I'd say," said Will.

"So you only came to see me because you want something, is that how it is?" asked Cela lightly. "Never you mind. I was about to brew up some tea for myself; it's been a long day, wouldn't you say? I'll brew some willowbark up for you at the same time, and some for Primrose, too; even if she doesn't say she wants some, she'll probably be needing it just the same."

[Kath]

Cir had been a little surprised at her brother's sudden demand that they sing a sad song, and indeed that he wanted to sing at all, but she wasn't complaining. The voices in the room had fallen silent as the siblings wove the tune, and Cir had seen tears spring to the eyes of some of the patrons, even though they did not know the words. This song was one that did not need to be translated for the meaning to be understood.

As the last notes from the harp faded away she saw her brother turn to speak to the little boy that had been standing by them for some time. As the two talked Cir made herself useful, tuning up some of the instruments and giving others a quick dust. It seemed they had been in storage for quite a while.

“But we sing merrier songs too - Oh Sister dear, shall we make them smile as well as weep?"

Interrupted in her task as her brother turned toward her with a Cir sent a mock glare at him rather than a punch and winked at Taffy who grinned back shyly. Still, her brother’s idea was a good one, Dick had asked for them to entertain not to make people cry! Taking up one of the violins Cir struck up a new song, a happier one, and one that was liable to get people dancing with its lively tune.

Behold a wonder here -
Love hath receiv'd his sight,
Which many hundred years
Hath not beheld the light.

Such beams infused be
By Arien in his eyes,
At first have made him see
And then have made him wise.

Love now no more will weep
For them that laugh the while,
Nor wake for them that sleep,
Nor sigh for them that smile.

So pow'rful is the beauty
That Love doth now behold,
As love is turn'd to duty
That's neither blind nor bold.

Thus beauty shows her might
To be of double kind,
In giving Love his sight
And striking Folly blind.

[Valesse]

“I’m so sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Can I help you?” Valesseka turned toward Dick once it registered that he was addressing her. For a moment she hesitated before answering in order to recall all that she 'overheard'. "Oh, um, yes. I'd like to rent a room and for now just some mead if you have any."

She seemed a bit confused. Valesseka was mostly foreign to the concept of inns, and would probably be wholey lost if she had not been so sociable with travellers in the past. After another hesitation the girl, nodding toward the gaggle of preformers, added "I haven't been waiting very long, at least it wasn't a wait that I minded."

[Folwren]

“I can give you a room,” Dick said, “but I’m quite sorry to have to tell you that I can’t get you any mead. I do have a very light brew of beer you might like. Would you be willing to have a go at that? I can draw you up a taste to see how you like it.”

Valesseka seemed to hesitate a moment before she slowly nodded. “That will be fine. Just a full mug.”

Dick nodded and picked up a mug and turned to fill it. He turned again, the foam rising nearly to over flowing and set it on the counter. “What about something to eat? The cook’ll find you something, even this late. What do you say?” He looked up with bright expectant eyes, waiting for her to answer.

[Tevildo]

Tollers grinned back at Colren and responded. "So you want to know what folk are like around here? That's a hard question to answer in a few words. But maybe this will help. Just take a look at those bowls." Tollers nodded towards the center of the table where a number of platters sat overflowing with food. "I slipped them out of the kitchen when the staff wasn't looking. You see, whenever I eat with friends, I prefer the food be served family style, platters and bowls lined up in the middle with everybody reaching out and scrambling to get big spoonfuls onto their plate. That way everybody shares and there's always enough for seconds. That's what my own family did. And that's the way most folk around here are. A family sticks together and shares. If you're rich you might have fancier things in the pot to share. If you're poor, you get by the best you can. Some eat more and some eat less, but nobody in the family goes hungry."

"Most folks around here make family the center of their lives. What happens to their mum or brother is the most important thing in the world. They might even live a mile or two down the road. That's what I do. But they never stop thinking about the folks back home. I'd like to work here a while and then take a little trip adventuring. But at the end of it all, I'll come back to the old burrow and maybe build myself a little house right next door. Maybe help my sisters find hobbit lads who'll be good to them or take care of my dad when he gets too old to do the farming."

Tollers sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "I guess that's not too exciting for the likes of you, but that's how most folk around here think. Now, that's enough of me. Even if our Elf doesn't get back soon, I'm going to insist you tell me where you're from."

[Mithalwen]

The song his sister had started was an old one and Cir realised it had been a good choice since some of the company at least recognised it, even if the words and tune had suffered some variation as they had passed through the years and miles from it's creation.

Those who knew not the words hummed or clapped and it seemed its sprightly, rhythmic tune might inspire the younger of heart and nimble of foot to clear enough space in the busy bar to dance. The elf's slender hands drew music effortlessly from the small harp and the easy joyful melody required little concentration. His bright eyes took in the scene, noting and older elf with a ranger. He did not recognise them but a pang of anxiety struck him wondering if he had some connection with the party of pilgrims the twins had abandoned earlier in the day.

The twins were so used to understanding each other and generally found each other's company sufficient that they had not yet developed much skill in the osanwe kenta but Carantilion knew that older elves could communicate by thought even across great distances. His father in Rivendell could, albeit with great concentration, "speak" to his sister, Mithalwen at the Havens he remembered. He realised at that moment that they had forgotten this fact when reckoning on the time it would take for their parents to find out about their truancy. He sighed and carried on playing - it was to late to worry now and if the elf was come for them he would have said something by now. And he doubted that they could be punished at a distance....

[Farael]

Swing to the left, now swing to the right
Wiggle your HEY! Just dance all night…

“No, wait… that’s not it. Oh, yeah”

Swing to the left, dancing…

“No, that’s even worse. Where am I anyway?” The landscape looked rather different than the last time he had checked. All was well, he had meant to get lost and lost he was now. A deep grumble from his stomach reminded him of his one mistake. He had always wanted to travel, to explore the world and perhaps find that elusive muse that would finally release all his creative potential. He had set out at last, his only destination to be wherever his feet lead him. Sadly, as he soon found out, feet lead nowhere on an empty stomach, and so he had been forced to rely on the generosity of a few farmers along the way. Lucky it was that his feet had chosen the way to The Shire, should they have gone the other way he might have found himself starved in the middle of the wilderness.

If he remembered properly the words of Farmer Stoor, he was now in Stock. Robby knew one thing, and one thing only about Stock. The inn there was almost as good as the Prancing Pony. Of course, no inn could be as good as the good ol’ pony, but it was still a high compliment.

Swing to the right, now swing to the left
and while you are danc…
“Still not there. Making lyrics is a hungry work! And so is all this walking. Now where is that Inn?”

At length, and after walking right by it and not seeing it, twice, the man finally found the Golden Perch. By that time it was hard to tell who was grumbling louder, his stomach or himself.

“Swing to the… Do I ever want to start my song this way? Yes, sure, swinging is good, but is it a good start? How about Tell me’ ma, when I get home… hmmm… the boys won’t leave the girls alone… hmph, well, I will have to work on that, but not until after dinner!”

With that he gently knocked at the door of the Inn. It would not be polite, he figured, to barge in uninvited so late an hour. There was no response, so Robby tried again. Getting slightly impatient, he was about to try one more time, when someone finally opened the door.

[Valesse]

In a somewhat lost and distant voice Valesseka heard herself saying "Yes, please." to Dick the bright eyed innkeeper. She was much busier trying to take in all of the late activity around her when her attention was drawn to a light knocking on the door.

No, it's not my place to go answering doors for an inn. Why would someone be knocking anyways? Well, I guess it is late...

Valesseka stared at the round door for a moment before lifting her mug to drink. It was a fairly good brew... a really good brew, infact! and from the smell outside the food would be savoury and delicious also. Quickly forgetting the about the door-rapping, Valesseka sat down and took another swig of the stuff only to be lured into a trance by the musical elves. She was quite happy here, and somewhere in the back of her mind decided that she needed a nice long rest before continuing on her journey home.

As the elves sang and played she could feel herself starting to hum along with their merry sound until, at last, the sound of knocking came again. Vainly she hoped someone would answer it quickly, she had far too much beer and elven music to delight in to be bothered much longer by that silly round door.

[Volo]

Colren felt quite uncomfortalbe, he had no idea what to answer. And he really wished his life was as simple as the hobbit's. I could just say to Tollers that I don't want to tell about my past... That would be better than lying. "Well, Tollers, you see..." No, no, no... This is bad. I have to invent something better. "...well, I'll tell you about myself, but first I'll go wash my hands and tell the cook not to worry about my order. I won't leave you waiting." Or this delicious looking food.

Colren searched for the kitchen. He found it, but just then he understood that there was music, it would have otherwise been a merry song, but now Colren felt as if this too dragged him to some sad memory. This is unbearable, I have to read the letters, I have to. Then I might answer Tollers question better. Thinking, Colren did walk into the kitchen. The cook wasn't there. Colren quickly washed his hands and wandered, should he search the cook to cancel his dinner. He soon desided that he didn't want to meet new people just yet.

Colren walked back to Tollers and sat down. "Now, it seems that our elven friend hasn't come back. What is her name by the way?" Colren tried to seem happy, but inside he was really confused. He began his tale. "Like I told you, my name is Naren. I come from the land of Gondor. There are giant cities in Gondor, but I have never visited them. I'm more of a farmboy myself too. I don't know how my family is doing, which is really sad, but that happens when you go on a adventure. And I don't even really know why I wandered here. I do have interest in history, at the moment I'm studying hobbit-history. If you know somebody who knows more about this or is otherwise interested, please don't keep it a secret. Books would do well." I can't really tell anything else not to be too suspicious, this I might think was a good answer. "But let me excuse me, may I have some food to warm myself." I really hope the elf will come soon...

[Undómë]

Opening the door for Robby Appledore . . .


Rowan could not quite be sure if she heard the knocking or not. The common room was noisy with the babble of many conversations; the last waning claps of appreciation for the Elves’ song; and the sound of table legs scraping across the wood floor. A number of the local men, their bellies filled with good food and Perch ale, were in the mood for dancing and had begun to push back the tables to clear an area.

She almost stepped away when the tapping came again. And this time, since she was standing quite close to it, there was no hesitation on her part. Rowan set down her tray of dishes and dirty mugs on a nearby table and opened the door. For a moment she stood looking at the figure just a few feet away.

The inn’s light swung in the light night’s breeze throwing a pale shine at the man’s back. He was taller than she was, though not as tall as some men that had come to the Perch, and seemed of a sturdy build. Backlit by the lamp’s glow, his hair was of some darkish hue she thought. She could not see his face well, though it seemed it bore a wide smile as she stepped to the side to let him in and the light from the room’s lamps and the fireplace washed over him.

‘Come in! Come in, sir! Let’s not let the night’s chill creep into the room. It’s nice and warm inside,’ she went on motioning him in with a gesture. Closing the door firmly behind him, she pointed to the pegs near the door where other cloaks hung. ‘You can leave yours there if you wish. Plenty of tables,’ she said with an inviting smile. ‘I hope you like music – some of the folk are singing and playing their instruments for us tonight.’ Rowan pointed out a table just at the edge of the newly cleared dance floor. ‘Just set yourself down and I’ll be right back to see what you’d like to eat and drink.’

She picked up her tray of mugs and dishes and made to go to the kitchen. ‘Oh, how rude of me! My name’s Rowan . . . Rowan Muddifoot.’ She flashed him another smile. ‘Be right back!’

[Arry]

‘. . . it's been a long day, wouldn't you say?' Cook said. 'I'll brew some willowbark up for you at the same time, and some for Primrose, too; even if she doesn't say she wants some, she'll probably be needing it just the same.’

Will sat himself down in one of the wooden chairs, watching as Cela bustled about making tea. ‘It has been a long day, Miz Cela,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘Don’t know if I’ll be able to stay up much longer. My arm aches and to be honest so does my head. Just a dull ache, but it’s constant. I think I’ll just have some more of your tea and head off for bed.’ He fingered the seamed edge of the quilted placemat on the table in front of him. ‘And I think you’re right…about Prim, that is. She looks tired, too.’

He shifted a little in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position for his arm. ‘Maybe we can get her to drink another cup of tea and you can get her to go to bed herself.’ His cheeks flushed a little as he went on. ‘I mean…I think it would be better coming from you…being a girl and all…’

[piosenniel]

Rhys was humming as he plucked softly at the strings of his fiddle. Satisfied that the strings were in tune, he picked up his bow and nudged his sister with the tip of it. ‘Shall we do another?’ He nodded to the lads busy moving back the tables. ‘A dance tune, perhaps. You can play the hand drum. It’s there by the fiddle case.

Tanwen ignored the nudge and the question, making some non-committal reply, or rather sounds. Her attention was elsewhere, on a certain table across the room. She cupped her chin in her hands, her elbows resting firmly on the table-top. ‘So, who do you think that fellow is over there? That Elf, that Hithadan’s talking to.’

She twisted in her chair to look at her brother. ‘It’s interesting, don’t you think? When you look at the two of them over there. The Elf is certainly the taller of the two, by a good hand and a half, wouldn’t you say. And he’s not that thin, so he most likely outweighs the Ranger. Still,’ she went on, turning back to watch the two of them again, ‘Hithadan seems the bigger of the two, doesn’t he?’

[Rose]

‘Fills out his tunic quite well, that one does!’ Penstemon chuckled. ‘That’s what my gran would always say about the ones she took a shine to when the lads came to court and spark my sisters and me.’

She cast an eye at Rhys and gave a nod to Tanni. Leaning toward Rhys, Granny crooked her finger at him, urging him to come closer. ‘She have a fellow waiting back home for her?

Penstemon chuckled again seeing the look on his face. ‘Thought as not!’ She patted his hand as a look of sympathy crossed her features.

[Farael]

Comein!Comein,sir!Let’snotletthenight’schillcreepi ntotheroom.It’sniceandwarminsideYoucanleaveyoursth ereifyouwish.Plentyoftables,Ihopeyoulikemusicsomeo fthefolkaresingingandplayingtheirinstrumentsforust onight.’

The lady hobbit pointed at a table on one corner of the room. Was she even breathing while talking?

Robby was still trying to digest her first outburst of talk when she added ‘JustsetyourselfdownandI’llberightbacktoseewhatyou ’dliketoeatanddrink.’.

Then she picked up a tray full of (empty) mugs and dishes and started walking away. She had not gone too far when she added, mercifully slow enough for Robby to understand, ‘Oh, how rude of me! My name’s Rowan . . . Rowan Muddifoot. Be right back!’

‘That is one busy hobbit’ Robby thought as he settled on a chair by the table she had pointed at. Looking around the room he could see he was not the only guest. It seemed to that there were some other hobbits, two dwarves and many men and women in the room. Some of the men were rather ordinary looking, much like himself, but others were much fairer than most. Indeed two of them were sitting in a makeshift stage, seemingly getting ready to play another song. The two were really good looking, Robby wondered if they were from Rohan. He had heard people from that land were very fair. Yet he had been told the Rohirrim had golden hair and the musicians had dark locks.

“All the same, how lucky of me!” he thought, “I might just be able to showcase my talents tonight… if I could only come up with a song worth singing!” he sighed “Alright, let’s try this again”

Let’s have a drink, for the old times, the good old times
take another sip there’s always… He started humming to himself, but then he stopped short

“What is there always? Good friends? Great company?” … good friends and compan “No, that’s too long… love?”
Let’s have a drink, for the old times, the good old times
take another sip there’s always love…

“Drinking and love? Well, what you feel when you drink is not love, that’s for sure” Robby laughed out loud at his own wit and banged on the table. Then he was aware, very aware, that he was on a common room filled with strangers. Some of those strangers seemed to turn around and look at him with interest. Or were they glaring at him?

“Either way, Appledore you fool! You want to make a good impression on these folks, not scare them away. To go around banging on tables like a drunkard, what were you thinking?” he chided himself. “Well, I better just sit here and keep to myself, at least until Miss Rowan comes back.”

[Boromir88]

Edric approached the door to the Golden Perch Inn. He had been admiring the music that he heard coming from inside. Never have I heard a tune so beautiful, he thought to himself. The Golden Perch, haven't heard of this before.

Edric had been travelling on the East Road when he started growing tired and wanted to find a place where he could get some rest. He had been moving around a lot in the last several years. His great plans of fleeing from Fengel and travelling to Gondor, looking for an oppurtunity of a better life, did not go exactly as planned. He felt trapped and isolated in Minas Tirith, and the Men there were not like his friends and family in Rohan. Bree was a little better, but he still didn't feel like he had entirely fit in, being a newcomer and an outsider.

That's what led Eddie here, to the Golden Perch. He didn't even have an idea of where he was at, 'At least it seems I've found a nice looking place to stay for a while' he said. He approached the door and began knocking on it. The music had stopped (hopefully they were not done playing), but Eddie heard a lot of livelihood and activity still going on inside.

The door opened and to Eddie's shock there stood what looked like a little child with curly hair. Eddie was taken back for a moment, wondering who this was. Edric came out of his awe, 'I'm sorry.' he said embarrassingly 'I must look like a fool to you. Where am I at, if you don't mind me asking?'

[Undómë]

‘My goodness, now who’s knocking at the door?!’ Rowan sat her tray of dirty dishes and mugs down on a table again. Wiping her hands on her apron, she made for the door and pulled it open. She craned her head back so as to take in the very tall man who stood there.

Biting her lip a little, she stifled a giggle thinking of the first man she’d let in just a few moments ago. Though he’d been taller than her, still he was much smaller than this fellow. The long and the short of it . . . caromed about in her head as she looked from one to the other.

‘Rowan Muddifoot, at your service,’ she told him, remembering this time to introduce herself. ‘No need to apologise,’ she tried to assure him as he stood there. ‘We’re sort of off the beaten track for most of the Big Folk. But anyway, to answer your question – you’re in the Shire, the Eastfarthing to be exact. The town you’ve come into is called Stock. And this fine place is The Golden Perch Inn. Great ale, good food!’

She smiled a welcome and motioned for him to come in.

‘Another of the Big Folk just got here right before you.’ She pointed to where Robby Appledore sat. ‘I was just going to drop of my load of dirty dishes and such and then come back and take his order. Would you like to sit with him, then I can see to the both of you.’

[Boromir88]

'Thank you Lady Rowan.' Edric replied. 'I think I will join that fellow over there, again Thank you.' I definitely think I am going to enjoy it here, Edric thought. He even began considering possibly living here for quite some time, as he had been growing weary of constantly moving from place to place.

Edric walked up to the man Rowan had pointed out to him, and started introducing himself. 'Hello kind sir, I am Edric Gulwine, from Rohan.' That's when Edric began talking away as he usually did. 'Well I was from Rohan until I felt like it would be best to move on to better places. To make a long story short, I moved to Minas Tirith, than stayed in Bree for a while, but neither place suited me and I felt disconnected. So, now I find myself here and Lady Rowan told me you had just arrived, is this true? Did you meet Rowan yet? Seems like a nice lady, doesn't she, and a very hard worker at that too? Oh, I'm sorry you'll have to excuse my ill manners, would you mind if I joined you?'

[Firefoot]

“Certainly, Will,” answered Cela, managing to keep most of the amusement out of her voice and face.

At this point she was interrupted in her tea making by Rowan’s entrance to the kitchen to request two plates of food for some late-coming Big Folk. Cela was grateful that she always kept a couple of plates of dinner warm after the normal dinner hours; although many who came in at this time of night preferred just a mug of ale, there were occasionally some wanting dinner as well. Two of these she fetched up and double-checked for their warmth before sending Rowan on her way with the meals.

“Perfect timing,” Cela declared as the tea began to boil just after Rowan left. She poured two mugs, handed one to Will, and took the other herself. “I’ll just come with you now and take this out to Prim. If anyone else comes in wanting dinner, well, they can wait a few extra minutes. I’m not too busy now.”

[Forest Elf]

Gable finally found the dress that she had been looking for and changed into it quickly, knowing she had already been taking awhile. She put on a different pair of shoe’s before heading out the door.

She walked over to the table where Tollers and a man were seated. “Sorry it took me awhile, I couldn’t find my dress.” She told them, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.

She took a seat and suddenly remembered the pony, ‘the pony can wait.’ She told herself, ‘right now isn’t the time to think of such things.’ Hoping to get the pony off of her mind, she asked the man, “I’m Gable, Will’s assistant. You are?”

[Tevildo]

Before his friend could answer, Tollers had elbowed his way back into the conversation. He stared the Elf straight in the face and proceeded to talk as if Gable had never even asked a question of Colren. "Ah, my friend. I am glad you are back and that the little mishap about the nail and the sleeve did not prevent you from joining us. Come share a plate with us and perhaps a tankard of ale, if that is to your liking."

Tollers pushed the serving platters in front of the Elf, dished up generous portions onto her plate, and then went on to explain, "This fellow next to you is Master Colren. You see he's not from these parts, but he does have an interest in hobbit history. Actually, I was just about to tell him I'm a terrible one to help with something like that. I went to Dame Opal's school when I was a young 'un. I managed to learn my letters and numbers, but when it came to history I was a complete failure. I almost got chucked out on my ear."

"Funny thing, though, I hear there's a gentleman in the Shire proper who is a whiz at that type of thing. He knows a good bit about the history of the Shire, and someone even told me that he's begun to write a long history of the Elves. That sounded a bit fishy to me but this fellow insisted." Tollers rapped his knuckles on the table trying to remember the name of the famed hobbit historian. "Oh, yes, I remember now. That fellow is called Bilbo Baggins. A strange fellow, I hear. I suppose reading all that history could put your head out of line. Colren, perhaps Bilbo could help you? You'd have to travel west to Hobbiton, but I hear he has a whole burrow full of books so maybe you could find what you're looking for."

"I don't suppose, Gable, that hobbit history would be of interest to you or that you've ever heard of this fellow Baggins. Our history is a poor thing when compared with the much grander stuff of the Elves. Indeed, Gable, I am certain that life in the Shire is quite bland and predictable when compared with the way things work in a community of elves."

"And Master Colren, the history of men has its high points as well. It puzzles me why you'd want to spend time with hobbit history, since it mainly discusses who is a third cousin twice removed from someone else. But I suppose you have your own reasons, whatever those might be...."

Tollers glanced at the two strangers, curious if either of them would open up a bit more.

[Tam Lin]

Tavaro chuckled as he looked from the ginger-haired woman back to his friend. Hithadan was blithely unaware of her blue-eyed scrutiny; his eyes were taking in the two newcomers to the inn. Sizing them up, weighing them.

‘Be back in a moment,’ the Elf said, rising from his chair. His destination was not the table where the man and woman sat with the elder Halfling lady, but rather the table where the three Dwarves sat.

He gave a nod to the large fellow with the reddish brown hair; the one who had neither played nor sung when the two young Elves made their music. The other two Dwarves, whether by nature or by the quantity of ale which buoyed them up, he found more welcoming. In an easy manner he complimented them on their flute playing and asked if they might accompany him in a song. There was a whispered conference among the three of them, in which a few bars of some song were hummed; the words to it spoke low and finally agreed upon.

Tavaro returned to his table and fetched the pack stashed by his chair. From it he drew out a fair sized something wrapped in a soft, sea blue, finely woven stole. His harp (http://www.haverford.edu/engl/faculty/Sherman/Irish/harp.jpg). The Elf’s long, slender fingers ran over the strings and with a few quick twists of the metal pins which held the various strings, the harp was brought into tune.

‘This is an old song, from an old place west of here,' he began, looking about the room. 'A lovely land of trees, hills, green grass, and rivers, that the great sea has now swallowed up. There were men and women living in that place whose fair tongue is now mostly lost in the passing years. Many of the Eldar made their homes in that land and Dwarves, too, resided there.'

‘It’s an old theme, too . . . a familiar, and oft inescapable one . . .’ He raised one eyebrow slightly and smiled as if to himself. ‘But here, let us begin it and let you good folk judge for yourself.’ He nodded to Bívor who lifted his flute to his lips and began the melody. Tavaro joined him, picking out the tune on the harp strings. His fair voice sang the old words softly as Bávor spoke the words in the common tongue . . .


Tá mé mo shuí (http://www.larkcamp.com/MP3/mooncoin/05.mp3) ó d’éirigh’n ghealach aréir
Ag cur teine síos gan scíth is á fadó go gear
Tá bunadh a tí ‘na luí is tá mise liom féin
Tá na coiligh ag glaoch ‘san saol ‘na gcodladh ach mé.

I am up since the moon arose last night
Putting down a fire again and again and keeping it lit
The family is in bed and here am I by myself
The cocks are crowing and the country is asleep but me.

‘Sheacht mh’anam déag do bhéal do mhalaí is do ghrua
Do shúil ghorm ghlé-gheal fár thréig mé aiteas is suairc
Le cumha do dhiaidh ní léir dom an bealach a shiúil
Is a charaid mo chléibh tá na sléibhte gabhail idir mé ‘s tú.

I love your mouth, your eyebrows and your cheeks
Your bright blue eyes for whose sake I gave up hunting the wily fox
In longing for you I cannot see to walk the road
Friend of my bosom, the mountains lie between me and you.

Deireann lucht léinn gur claoite an galar an grá
Char admhaigh mé é no go raibh sé ‘ndiaidh mo chroí istigh a char
Ó aicid ró-ghéar, faraor nár sheachain mé í
Chuir sí arraing is céad go géar trí cheart-lár mo chroí.

Learned men say that love is a fatal sickness
I never admitted it until now that my heart is broken
It’s a very painful illness, alas, I have not avoided it
And it sends a hundred arrows through the core of my heart.

Casadh bean-tsí dom thíos ag Lios Bhéal an Átha
Is d’fhiafraigh mé díthe an scaoilfeadh glas ar bith grá
Is é dúirt sí os íseal i mbriathra soineannta sáimh
“Nuair a théann sé fán chroí cha scaoiltear as é go bráth.”

I met a faerie woman in the Rath of Béal an Átha
I asked her would any key unlock the love in my heart
And she said in soft, simple language
“When love enters the heart it will never be driven from it.”

[Celuien]

After Will left for the kitchen, Primrose leant back in her chair to listen to the music filling the common room. Despite all the folk gathered in the room, she felt lonely. Other than Will, her friends were all busy. Primrose wanted nothing more than to join the bustle of the kitchen, chatting with Rowan or Cela while ladling soup into a bowl. Except, maybe, to tease Will (with Cela's help).

Between loneliness and the sad melody played by the Elf, Primrose began to feel a little downhearted until she spotted Will and Cela heading for her table with steaming mugs in hand. Not a moment too soon, she thought.

Reaching for the mug of tea Cela offered, Primrose asked, "How are things in the kitchen?"

[Forest Elf]

Gable was a little surprised to hear that the others had found out about her almost fall on the roof of the stables. But she also had expected it because news about such things travels fast in the shire, even if they’re not as fast as elves. News travels fast around here, though she didn't expect it to travel this fast.

“Well, actually, I love to hear Bilbo’s stories. The Shire isn’t quite like being at home, but with what happened this morning, things are probably going to be…different.” Gable replied, thinking about the wolf, and pony again. A thoughtful look crossed over her face, wondering about why a wolf would be so close to the shire… And why would a wolf be driven to attack a pony, and the pony’s owner, where ever he/she is, and whether or not they’re alive...

[Noinkling]

At the end, Skirvir had joined in with his cousins, bringing out his own flute to accompany the Elf’s song. It was an old song, just as the fellow had said. And Skirvir recalled his grandfather singing parts of it and telling of those lands long ago that had sunk below the sea. That was a time when Dwarves and Elves were not at such odds as they seemed now.

‘Well done, lads!’ he said to Bívor and Bávor. ‘Let’s have another round of ale here, miss!’ he called to the server as she passed by. He glanced up at the Elf, watching as he set his harp carefully on the floor near him. Skirvir looked him over closely, narrowing his eyes as if trying to make some sort of decision.

From their own seats, the cousins looked at Skirvir in surprise as he motioned to the Elf to catch his attention and then proceeded to invite him to the table to down a pint with them.

[Farael]

It wasn’t going to be a night for song-making, that was as sure as sunrise. The man, Edric, seemed to be really eager to make conversation and it would be poor manners not to talk to him. ‘By all means, do join me. Robby Appledore from Breeland at your service’ he stood up and offered his hand to the stranger ‘I myself have just walked in, I was lost in thought and my feet lead me this way. Well met I say, this Inn sure feels cozy although…’ he lowered his voice almost to a whisper ‘I know an Inn that is even better than this one. The hobbit folk are great hosts, but nothing tops the Prancing Pony Inn and that’s a fact. I don’t know if you have visited it during your stay in our city, but I think not because if you had tried that sweet ale you would have never left! Ha!’ He laughed out loud and banged his hand on the table; drawing again gazes from other people.

Then Rowan came, carrying some delicious looking dishes. When the table was set both men dedicated themselves to the food. It was only after their hunger was (partially) quenched that Robby talked again. “Yes, you are right. Miss Rowan is a lovely young lady, even more so for the great food that she brings to us.’ He smiled broadly and took a good swig of ale ‘Still my friend, you must have heard some very interesting stories both in Rohan and in the land of Gondor. Perhaps you would care to share some? Because, well…” his voice trailed off, all of a sudden he felt insecure, almost inadequate “well, I am a bit of a song writer myself. From what I have heard of these folks I am no match to their skill and yet perhaps you can tell me something to… to inspire me”

Perhaps it was the cheerful look on this stranger’s face or perhaps it was the relaxed atmosphere but before he realized it, Robby was out-talking Edric himself. “See, I am no musician. I am a farmer, son of a farmer from a farming family. Back home… well, they did not want me to make music. ‘Lines and poems? Carrots and potatoes is what you should spend your time thinking of’ but yet it is like a calling, you know? I did not choose music, music chose me. I must follow my calling and so I am travelling the world now, seeking for that elusive inspiration. Perhaps if I found the elves, they are said to be very inspiring. But elves are not easy to find anymore. Perhaps I should ask that fair folk over there. The singers and such. They all look so beautiful perhaps they have seen an elf or two.” He gazed at them, so fair and yet somehow strange to the eye.

‘Nonsense Appledore. They are just beautiful men, stop your dreams or soon you will convince yourself that they are elves after all’

[Valesse]

For how late it was the Golden Perch was still certainly busy with the heart-moving sounds of elven harps and dwarven flutes and bare, hairy feet tapping and knee patting. It seemed almost impossible for the Arnorian, who had been for so long without music, to place her attention elsewhere, but it was.

Valesseka hadn't been watching Edric, just like she hadn't been watching Appledore. She was staring at them in a half-dazed distant look which could only mean thoughtfulness. They weren't elves like many of the preformers, nor were they dwarves or these bizzare half-sized people which seemed to fill the place most effectively. They were men, and being who she was, Valesseka was curious about them. One, Edric, looked rather worn to her, as if he had also come from a long journey, but he was of quite high spirits. Maybe that was just his nature... Appledore she couldn't quite pin down, just as she could not hear what he was saying to Edric. Now completely absorbed in the two, she was careless to consider exactly how direct her gaze was becoming or how hungry the smell of the halfling's cooking was making her.

[Volo]

Colren was gulping the tasty food while Tollers and the Elf were talking. He was just about to bite a piece of good dark bread when a rusty gear clicked in his head. Mister Bilbo Baggins... Colren put his bread back on the table beside his plate. "Sorry, Tollers, but this Bilbo Baggins. What did he do? I feel like I have heard of him, long ago..." This is important. Something long lost... Hmm... Baggins, a hobbit...

"I'm sorry, I'll finish the meal, but I'll have to leave soon. There is something I wish to check. Don't feel offended, I really appriciated this and I wish that we'll talk again later. Thank you..." Colren started eating up slowly thinking about the name Baggins.

[Firefoot]

For once, Cela caught herself from saying the first thing that came to mind, which had been along the lines of “perfectly fine.” For one thing, it was not entirely true. Not that she couldn’t handle it on her own; the kitchens just lacked a certain spark without someone cooking alongside her. “Going along, getting along,” Cela allowed with a sort of half shrug. “Quiet, though. It’ll be nice to have you back when you’re well.

“For now, though, drink that whole mug of tea. If you’re feeling any more pain, it will help that, and it’ll help you sleep tonight, too. And speaking of which, it’s starting to get late; it’s been a rough day for you and I’d like for you to get a full night’s sleep tonight. Then if you’re up to it, perhaps you can do some of the lower-key work in the kitchen tomorrow.”

[Tam Lin]

‘My stars, I think they are having us over for a drink!’ Tavaro smiled graciously toward the table where the four Dwarves sat, nodding his head in acceptance. ‘You do want to come, don’t you? I haven’t had the chance to speak with Stonemasters since I walked in the Grey Mountains years ago.’

The Elf wrapped his harp back in its covering and slid it into his pack. Shouldering the leather rucksack, he cocked his head toward the beckoning Dwarf his grey eyes on Hithadan’s face. ‘Yes? No?’

[Lilly]

Try as he might, Taffy could scarcely stifle the yawns as he listened to the songs. Not that the words were in the least boring, they were really quite lovely and he thought how his granpa would have asked they be sung again so that he might remember them. Nor was it that the tunes dragged on, either. The sounds of the flutes and fiddle and the harp were wonderful, all woven together. He shrugged his shoulders and wiggled a bit on his chair trying to invigorate himself a little. But it was all to no use. The activities of the full day spent traveling to Stock were taking their sure toll on him.

During one of his more spectacular yawns, his mother nudged his father, smiling at the sight of their ‘big’ boy. ‘Go on there, Mister Sandybanks,’ she admonished him lightly. ‘See to your son.’

Taffy’s head was nodding as his father came up from behind and clasped his shoulder lightly. There was no word of protest as Taffy slid off his seat and nestled against his father’s side, letting the older man steer him off toward bed.

‘There’ll be plenty of time to see your new friends and say your good-byes before we have to leave tomorrow.’ Taffy nodded sleepily as he shed his breeches and tunic and crawled into bed, snuggling deep beneath the quilts. Seren was already fast asleep on her side of the mattress; she made some little sound as he rocked the bed, then turned over and went promptly back to dreaming.

‘Mami and I will be in soon,’ Taffy’s father told him, leaving a lantern lit and hooded for a night light. But even before Madoc left the room, he could hear the boy’s soft snores.

As he slid back into the chair next to Lila, she patted him fondly on the arm. ‘What say we finish up the last of our tea here, then off to bed ourselves,’ he heard her say. ‘

‘Just thinking that myself,’ he said, laying his hand on hers. ‘You go on ahead first, though. I want to see to Marigold. Got to make sure that stone she had lodged in that back hoof didn’t cause any real problems. Don’t want to take her out lame tomorrow.’

Lila reached for her mug of tea and sipped on it. ‘Been hearing some pretty songs tonight, haven’t we?’ She glanced toward the Dwarves and the two younger Elves. ‘Who’d have thought we’d be hearing Elves sing here in the Perch. And Dwarves, no less. Land sakes! No one’ll believe us back on the island.’

‘Well now, don’t go worrying over what the neighbors will believe or not. We know we saw it and heard it, and that’s all as matters.’ Madoc leaned back in his chair, his arm resting along the back of Lily’s chair. I am a lucky man! he thought to himself, sneaking a quick look at his dear wife’s face in profile.

[Envinyatar]

‘I’ll sit this one out, I think, my friend.’ Hithadan handed up the Elf’s leather satchel and the hawthorn staff Tavaro had leaned against the wall. ‘You go and see to the Dwarves and their never-empty flagons. Be careful, though, I think that they might be able to drink even you under the table.’ He laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘Catch up on old news and new, and whatever rumors they might have heard on their travels here.’ His face took on a more serious aspect. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know then if there’s anything I need to hear about, won’t you?’

The Ranger watched as the Elf made his way to the other table. He smiled, seeing how Tavaro made himself quite comfortable among his new tablemates.

With a few long strides, Hithadan made his own way to where Rhys and Tanni sat, talking with Granny Greenhill. ‘Wanted to wish you all a good-evening,’ he said coming to stand near their table. I have some things to see to tonight.’ He nodded to Rhys and smiled at Granny and then Tanwen. ‘It’s been my pleasure to have spent such an enjoyable evening in your company. I hope to see you tomorrow if you’re still at the inn.’

[Envinyatar]

The bustle of the evening had worn down to a trickle. Most people were done eating, save for those two new men who’d come in late and been served by Miss Rowan. Jack had made the rounds of the tables, topping off the pitchers of ale and filling the teapots with fresh, hot water.

Jack slipped into the kitchen, his tray bearing a full load of mugs and a few bowls precariously stacked one upon the other. Mistress Cela, he’d noted, had come out of the kitchen with Will and gone to visit with the woman who’d broken her leg. Primrose…that was her name.

He set his load of dishes on the cupboard, and began carefully to load them into the big pan of hot, soapy water. And had Mistress Cela been in the room that was as far as he might have gone. But seeing as she was occupied in the other room, he decided to try his hand at the washing up.

‘Now just you take a deep breath, Jack m’boy,’ he admonished himself. ‘Not that tricky a job. Just keep your mind on what you’re doing and your fingers wrapped tight about the plates and mugs.’ He talked himself into an easy sort of rhythm.

Swish and swipe; swish and swipe . . . and dip plate; dip the mug . . . in the hot rinse water . . . carefully, carefully stack’em on the drainboard . . .

In a shorter time than he had thought, the washing up was got done. Jack stepped back and admired his handiwork. He picked up one of the dish towels hanging on a peg by the sink, but stopped short of taking up a bowl to dry. ‘Sure and that’s where my luck turned with the last dishes I did.’ He shook out the towel and spread it carefully over the stack of cleaned dishes.

Jack eased his lanky frame back out through the kitchen door and sat himself down at a little out of the way table. He’d brought with him a cup of strong, sweet tea from the kitchen. And now he sat contentedly sipping at it as he gazed about the room.

[piosenniel]

‘I’m sure we’ll still be at the inn tomorrow.’ Tanni looked to her brother for confirmation. ‘Won’t we?’

‘At least part of it, sister mine,’ Rhys returned. He picked up his fiddle and played a few bars of a fast paced song. ‘It’s been enjoyable meeting you, too, Hithadan. Come by early and break your fast with us. You can see us off then.’ He nodded toward Granny Greenhill. ‘Miz Penstemon here has kindly agreed to take us about to the neighboring farms and introduce us to the farmers and goodwives there.’

The three at the table said their good-byes to the Ranger and watched as he made for the door. Tanni turned back round to the table, a considering look on her face. ‘You will take up our offer of a night at the inn, won’t you Miz Penstemon. You can bunk in with me, if you will. Though, if you wish, we’ll hitch up the mares and take you home tonight.’

‘Let’s do one more song for the good folk here, Tanni,’ Rhys broke in, then we can head for our rooms or the stable. He chuckled, bending down toward Granny Greenhill and whispering loudly. ‘I promise….she doesn’t snore!’ He stepped quickly away from the table, fiddling furiously as he ignored his sister’s retort.

Tanwen stuck out her tongue at him in a most unladylike manner; but he only smiled and invited her to sing. He played the chorus one more time, then nodded to her.

~*~

Three jolly fellows sat in a Shire tavern,
Three jolly fellows sat in a Shire tavern,
and they decided,
and they decided,
and they decided to have another flagon.

Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over,
Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over.
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be…tomorrow I'll be sober.

Here's to the man who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober,
Here's to the man who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober,
He falls as the leaves do fall,
falls as the leaves do fall,
falls as the leaves do fall...he'll die before October.

Here's to the man who drinks good ale and goes to bed quite mellow,
Here's to the man who drinks good ale and goes to bed quite mellow,
He lives as he ought to live,
lives as he ought to live,
lives as he ought to live…he'll die a jolly old fellow.

Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over,
Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over.
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be…tomorrow I'll be sober.

Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and runs to tell her mother,
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and runs to tell her mother,
She's a foolish foolish lass,
She's a foolish foolish lass,
She's a foolish foolish lass…for she'll not get another.

Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and stays to have another,
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and stays to have another,
she's a boon to all mankind,
she's a boon to all mankind,
she's a boon to all mankind...for she'll soon be a mother.

Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over,
Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over.
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be…tomorrow I'll be sober.

Three jolly fellows sat in a Shire tavern,
Three jolly fellows sat in a Shire tavern,
and they decided,
and they de – ci – i - ded,
To have another flagon…

~*~

The brother and sister raised their mugs to the crowd when the song finished and bid them all a good-night. Rhys put away his fiddle and after one last swig from his mug, accompanied Granny and Tanwen out of the common room.

[Undómë]

‘Well, isn’t that something! He’s gone and done the dishes.’ She took off the towel and inspected them with a critical eye. ‘And not a chip or crack to be seen!’

Rowan had gone into the kitchen just after the scruffy fellow, Jack, had come out. She supposed it wasn’t fair of her to call him ‘the scruffy fellow’, but that’s how he’d been when she’d first met him. And somehow that image was stuck in her mind. That and the fact that she and Meliot had snooped about in his room and some of the things they’d seen . . . no make that what Meliot had seen . . . looked a bit . . . well, suspicious.

Still, here he’d gone and done up the dishes. She knew there’d been a fair stack of them since both Prim and Will were hurt and unable to help. And she had figured she’d be up to the wee hours with Cook trying to set the kitchen in order.

‘Maybe I should just revise my opinion of the fellow a bit. Just a wee bit . . . there is the map to consider. And that jewelry found in his tattered pockets. But now we won’t have the dishes to do, at least.’

Rowan fetched the broom from the corner and started sweeping the floor. The slops bucket would need emptying, she thought, as she swept near it. ‘I’ll empty it just before I go to my room. And check to see if the hens are locked in.’ She gave a yawn, then bent back to her sweeping.

[Boromir88]

Edric was usually the one who was being more engaging in the conversations, but this Robby Appledore he took a quick liking to. He's a musician, but not really? He's really a farmer? Edric thought being a little confused by what Robby had told him. Still Edric was fascinated by this Robby Appledore, he seems to be my kind of guy: enthusiastic and full of life.

"You want to be a musician, you say? And are looking for some inspiration? I don't know how much I can help you then. For all my stories are nothing worth singing a song about." Edric laughed. "Though I have been well travelled I doubt I can tell you anything that would, as you say, be inspirational. In Rohan, King Fengel isn't a man you want to sing songs about, songs are for glorious and noble Kings, not ruthless men like Fengel. I mean even his own son had fled to Gondor to escape. Though I did hear that after King Fengel died, they asked Thengel to return and take his fathers place. I never met him, but from what I heard he was a good man, much better than his father. Though my time in Rohan is in the past and something I've been long over. And as far as Gondor goes, that turned out to be about just as bad as living under Fengel. Such a grim place, it's glory days are now a thing of the past. Perhaps there's some life left in it still, supposedly Dol Amroth and its people are lovely to see. Which afterall, should be no surprise as they have the fair blood of the Elves in them. But alas, I've never been there. I've never been much of a sea loving person. So, I soon left searching for a better place. Bree suited me better, or at least it was my kind of place, but there was just something missing. I don't know what it was, just felt empty, you ever get that kind of feeling? That feeling where you don't feel totally complete or whole? Ah, anyway sorry to bore you with my rather bleak and dull life. I bet you these Hobbits here have better tales to tell you then I would." Edric laughed again.

After finishing his meal, the tiredness of the long journey from Bree overcame Edric. "I better be heading off to my room if I want to be ready tomorrow. You see, I'm not much of a morning person." Edric let out a little chuckle. "It was a pleasure meeting you Robby, and do please call me Eddie. How do they say it, I'm sorry to eat and run like this, but I really must get my rest. Good night, and again nice meeting you."

"Don't worry, I think I'll be right behind you, sleep sounds like a good idea now." Robby said. "Good night."

They both got up from the table, and as Robby left for his room, Eddie let out a wide smile. In fact, the widest smile that has been on his face for a very long time. He left the common room thinking only what tomorrow would bring.

[Tevildo]

"Ah, Colren and Gable! Would that I had time for a few fine tales of Master Bilbo Baggins. I'm afraid I shall have to beg your pardon and put that off till tomorrow. Master Dick always has me make the rounds in the late evening after things are winding down to make sure that the windows are latched tight and everything is bedded down for the night. Such wild times we live in....having to lock down windows."

Tollers stood up and shook his head in disapproval. Then he brushed a few crumbs off his vest, took a final swig from the flagon, and, with a polite tip of his cap to say goodbye, walked back towards the kitchen door. Just as he was about to pass through the doorway, he waved and called back to the table, "Have a good night, both of you. You'll want to be up bright and early since that's often the very best time of day in these parts." With that, Tollers disappeared down the kitchen hallway.

[Volo]

As soon as Tollers left, Colren wished the Elf good night and rushed back to his room. Bilbo Baggins... Hmm... This is so familiar, but what, that I don't know... Colren was tired and it was pitch black when he sat down on his bed. He couldn't wait any longer. He opened his pouch and took the next letter by time, it wasn't sent much later after the first letter, but the writer was different. It was written by a strong hand, but nervous. Colren read it carefully a few times:

Dear brother!

I must congratulate and also warn you. Elisi is a fair lass, I am happy for you. But he, our father will be furious if he hears about you marrying a woman of no high position. Father is a good man, he keeps all of us safe, his only problem is his greed. Well you know, he doesn't see any sence in a marriage just by love. If Elisi's family had any money, I'm sure father would be happy to wed you.

Don't worry too much, you can trust me to keep your secret. if you need help, I'm the first one to volunteer. I know I can't do much from here, but in three months when I return home from my study, I'll try to convince father to consider this.

Sorry I can't write more now, I'm called.

-Your older brother

PS: I got the presents you asked me to buy, here in Gondor they sell everything.


The letter was enden in a hurry. Colren sighed, still he didn't know his name. I'll have to continue being Naren... What he did know was that he had an older brother, who studied in Gondor, which must mean that Colren isn't from Gondor after all. Or just didn't live there at the time. Colren learned also about being from a rich family and having a greedy father. No memories came to him this time. He was really sad, Colren felt weak.

Colren dropped the pouch and letter on the floor beside the bed and fell down on his bed. He couldn't sleep most of the night, he was trying to analyze the letter somehow. I'll read more tomorrow, just too tired for that now. And those few lines were enough for now.

[Folwren]

Dawn broke over the horizon at its usual time. Dick stood again on the threshold of his inn, a more sober mood resting on him this morning than last. Through his mind, the tune that the elves had sung in their own language ran again and again. He remembered none of the words, they being all unfamiliar, but he did remember the melody. With difficulty he moved his attention back to the morning and his eyes shifted from the tossing tree tops and he turned to look back inside.

The door stood wide open and the morning wind, a little stronger than yesterday, blew into the common room. Tollers worked busily at unfastening the windows and opening them. From the kitchen came the sound of Cela cooking breakfast. The only thing missing was the usual sound of Cela and Prim talking together as they cooked. Dick didn’t notice the difference for some minutes, but when he finally did, he turned to go in and speak with Cela himself.

The kitchen was empty, except for the cook. Dick’s eyes lingered slightly on the kitchen table where Will usually sat at that time, while there was still a chance to eat an uninterrupted breakfast. It seemed strange and out of place that he shouldn’t be there now. And it was even stranger that Primrose wasn’t yet there. The broken leg probably had something to do with it, he figured. He could understand if it took her a little longer to get onto her feet that morning than usual.

“Where is Will?” Dick asked as he sat down. “And is there any coffee ready?”

[Firefoot]

Cela chose to answer the second question first, as the answer was easier. “The first pot ought to be ready just about now,” she said, and sure enough, the coffee was percolating merrily. She poured Dick a mug and handed it to him, saying, “Careful now; it’s hot.”

Dick took a sip. “Mmm.”

“As for Will,” she continued, “I haven’t seen him yet this morning, but both he and Primrose were nearly asleep where they stood when I finally got them off to bed last night dosed up with willow bark tea. Speaking of which, I probably ought to brew some more of that up this morning… Anyhow, I reckon the rest is good for both of them, but knowing the two of them, they’ll be up soon, used to rising early as they are.” She looked around the seemingly empty kitchen and sighed. “It’s quiet without them. They do rather lighten the place up.”

[Celuien]

Falling, falling. Primrose tumbled from the ladder, watching the roof grow farther away as Will called to her from above, feeling the ground grow closer. But it never grew close enough. The fall went on without end, faster and faster until a rooster crowed and everything vanished in a flash of light.

The light was the morning sun in the window.

Primrose shook her curls out of her pillow and rubbed her eyes. Night had brought a head full of uneasy dreams, and her heart was still pounding. . Sometimes Will fell as she watched, sometimes she fell, and sometimes both fell together, but always the dreams led to the same ending of a tumble into emptiness. Morning was a welcome release from nightmares, though Primrose longed for a few hours of restful sleep.

Leaning over a bowl of clear water near her bed, she caught sight of her tired face. She could never go to the kitchen looking so haggard. If yesterday was any hint of what was to follow, Cela would send her right back to her room. Primrose splashed the water over face and neck, hoping to rinse away some of the weariness from her features.

A few minutes later, the sound of a crutch against the wooden planks of the hallway announced Primrose's approach. As she entered the kitchen, she smiled at Cela and Dick.

"Good morning!"

[Forest Elf]

Gable blinked as the rooster crowed. Her sleep was light, filled with the previous day’s events; only this time, there was a shadow watching her in her dreams. She shuddered and hurried out of bed.

Her bare feet touched the floor and she looked out of her window. There were few a clouds, and a slight breeze. Gable stood and hurried to get dressed in one of her older work gowns.

The sleeves had been slightly ripped in places and there was a small hole, though unnoticeable unless you looked for it. She pulled her hair back and only braided it partway, knowing it would last for another hour or two.

She pulled on her boots and quiet as a mouse snuck out without getting noticed by Primrose, Cela or Dick. She hurried out to the barn, a bad feeling gnawing at her. She went to check on the injured pony.

The pony’s, to her surprise, whinnied before she had even set foot in the barn. Then she broke into a run. Three of the pony’s were rearing and kicking, the others’ eye whites were showing, and in the middle of a barn, a wolf with its eyes menacing turned upon Gable.

Gable let out a cry of surprise and wonder, and then as she saw it nearing to her, and knowing that she wouldn’t have much time to get a weapon, looked around desperately for the pitchfork. She found it, on the other side of the wolf; she swallowed and looked for something, anything, she could use as a weapon.

She grabbed a handful of sand and threw it in the wolf’s eyes. It snarled and three more appeared behind her, and one of the horses let out a whinny so loud it could’ve easily woken almost everyone in the Inn. She took a deep breath, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make it out of this alive without help, and screamed, scaring the birds out of a couple of tree’s.

A wolf lunged at her and she jumped out of the way and rolled, managing to stop a few paces from the pitch fork. She grabbed it and prepared to face battle against these four wolves.

[Envinyatar]

Jack had been out early that morning, trying out the pole Tollers had lent him yesterday. He had a few fish on his stringer; fish weren’t biting all that well this morning. Most likely they’d be enough for a little fry up for the inn staff. He was just coming up on the stable when he heard somebody scream, some woman it sounded like.

He dropped the fish and the pole and went running toward the open door. And pulled himself up as he saw the wolves menacing the Elf lady.

Where was that blasted ranger when a fella needed him?!

The wolves’ hackles were raised; lips pulled back from their slavering, yellowed teeth. Jack picked up a large piece of firewood from the stack near the stable and rushed toward the wolf nearest him. A great roar accompanied his charge, one born more of fear than heroism.

One of the wolves, the one nearest him as he entered the stable doors turned round to face him. The beast’s front legs were in a widened stance; his great, grey head weaving back and forth as he snarled and growled.

Jack hit out at him, hoping to drive him away, perhaps even to make the wolf run from the barn. But the wolf did not intend to be routed. He crouched down and launched himself at the man, knocking him down with a great thud.

And no sooner had Jack’s body hit the ground than the grey monster was astraddle him; it’s long, sharp teeth closing hard on its new prey’s tender throat . . .

[Tevildo]

After unlatching all the windows and sashes, Tollers had marched out to check on his vegetable patch. It was a small plot of land located along the back courtyard fence. The hobbit had begged for some land from the Innkeeper and had been given a small stretch overgrown with weeds and thornbushes on the promise that he would clear these out. In return for this, Tollers agreed to supply the kitchen with a steady stream of turnips, carrots, peas, and beans throughout the summer with perhaps gourds or pumpkins or squash added sometime later in the fall. He would be free to sell the surplus on market day in Stock.

To his delight, Toller saw that a number of tiny seedlings had pushed up through the soil and were now showing their leafy heads. Yesterday there had only been rows of neatly tilled earth. Overnight, that had changed. All his hard work looked as if it was about to pay off. After taking a moment to admire his handywork, Tollers picked up his hoe and vigorously began to attack the soil, determined to clear out another row for planting. He was just deciding whether to plant a row of onions or rhubarb, when he heard a terrible shriek coming from the stables followed by a dull thudding sound, a loud growl, and then ominous silence.

Tollers' short legs carried him back across the courtyard as fast as he could run. He had not even bothered to drop his hoe. Tollers pushed open the barn door and stood frozen in place, so shocked at what he saw that he was unable to react. Four slavering beasts, like the ones out of his Granny's tales, were attacking Gable and Jack.

Tollers' heart dropped to the bottom of his toes. From the stories his Granny had told, he knew this could only mean one thing. There must be a hole in the High Hay, the portion situated just north and east of Stock, so that some of the terrible creatures had found their way through. Tollers wasn't sure how they had managed to cross the river but rain had been scarce of late. Perhaps last night , a few beasts had managed to swim or wade, or maybe they had even walked over the bridge at Stonebows.

All these thoughts took no more than thirty seconds. Grabbing his hoe, Tollers made an awkward lunge at the great grey nightmare now standing astradle over Jack. "Git back! Git back, you varmit." Again and again, with every word he spit out, Tollers thwacked the creature's head with all his might. The animal pulled up and snarled, twisted deftly to one side to avoid the bothersome hacks, and, for one moment at least, spun off in the other direction, hiding in the shadows and preparing to attack again. That tiny interlude gave Tollers time to yank Jack up to his feet and race back into the courtyard to the large bell that was suspended from a tree, a bell that must only be rung in moments of peril to alarm the residents of Stock. With all his might, Tollers grabbed onto the rope and began pulling vigorously.

Somebody come, somebody come quick, please. We need more help to pick off these villains and to plug the hole in the hedge. And if four wolves have already gotten through, who knows what else could happen!

[Volo]

Colren had a bad night, he couldn't sleep, but when he did, he saw nightmares about war and bloodshed. He hoped they were only dreams. In one dream he was in a arena with closed walls, alone. Then suddenly a manshaped wolf emerged from behind him. It attacked Colren and cut his breast deeply with it's claws. Colren fell down in pain. The last thing he knew was the wolf's howling.

Colren woke up with a start all covered in sweat. It was no dream, a wolf was really howling, close. A strange feeling came to Colren, he thought it was stupidity, but he jumped up and only in his trousers ran out of his room. A real commotion was going on, nobody could understand what was happening, but something was happening. Colren pushed his way to the door and ran towards the sound. The howl was coming from the stables. Without thinking Colren ran past Tollers and a man somewhat like himself, Tollers was ringing a giant bell, he didn't even notice Colren.

Just when Colren was beside the door of the stable a wolf came slowly out to greet him. Fear overtook him, he no weapons or anything else to protect himself. Not to mention that the wolf was exceptionally large and angry. Colren backed away slowly. The wolf came closer. The panicing man glanced behind him, there was a spade not far, he could manage. Or so he hoped. He walked to the spade the wolf following his every movement. Still few steps, I'll be fine. Colren heared voices, people were coming this way. As he saw two more wolves come out of the stable Colren tripped on something. And then the wolf leapt. Colren had a second to think of something, he grabbed the thing tripped on. It was a stick, rather long and strong. He thrust that into the air at the wolf. He hit his target. The wolf leapt back. Colren jumped up and saw that he didn't cause much damage, but still a nice long scratch could now be seen at the side of the wolf's shoulder.

That barely bleeding scratch was enough. Something in Colren's mind turned and he didn't feel any fear. It was all concentration, he had a "sword" and he landed the first blow. A warrior awoke inside. If Colren had time to think about it at the moment, he would have found it so strange that he would return to the fearfull victim of a wolf. Luckily there was no time to think and the real battle began. Sure Colren was weak and skinny, just as the wolf was healthy and large, but Colren had experience from many battles, he just didn't know it now. With his skill the man was far superior than the beast.

The wolf leaped again, or so it seemed. Just as it was jumping, it turned and attacked from the ground instead. Colren was suprised by this cunning, but he didn't flinch. The wolf was aiming it's teath at Colren's stomach. But he was quicker. Just a foot or so from the hit, Colren moved backward and lunged his "sword" into the wolf's jaw. It sank deep. The dying beast rolled on the ground spitting blood. Colren stood there and watched. The other two wolves saw that the man was tough and backed away towards the road leading out of town. Colren was victorious! He glanced one last time at the dead wolf and then he felt sick.

He had killed. Colren sat down slowly with his bare thin chest and the long scar that was now visible. It wasn't just a dream. The scar Colren couldn't think of any explanation now told him of a bloody fight where Colren once was. He just sat there on the ground beside the wolf and looked somewhere far far away. At something only Naren, the warrior could see.

[Farael]

‘You don’t say, Master hobbit?’ asked Robby as a young, excited hobbit lad told him of what had befallen only a few moments earlier. ‘Wolves? Here in The Shire? But that’s unheard of!’ An old gaffer who was sitting nearby corrected him. It seemed that there had been another instance, during a really bad Winter, that some wolves had strayed into these lands.

This time, the beasts had found their way to the stables. No animals were hurt, although there was a hobbit, an elf and two men who were slightly shaken up. No wonder, Robby thought, he would have panicked if he had seen those monsters. They seemed to be gone, and yet a sense of fear and watchfulness seemed to be present in the lands of the Inn. It soon passed, and most of the people staying at the Golden Perch as well as many folks from the village headed to the common room to share breakfast and their take on what was soon named “The Wolf Incident”. Even though it was only a few hours past sunrise, a few toasts were made to the brave men (and hobbit and lady elf) who had fought off the wolves.

Robby knew this was what he had been looking for. Sitting by himself on a corner table, he racked his brain hard to put music and lyrics to that morning’s events. He shut out the outside world, the food Rowan had kindly brought to him was growing cold on the table, only rhymes, stanzas and music mattered.

When the morning star spread her rays over the quiet land
Nobody knew of the danger near at hand
The wind on their face, their spirits ablaze
Our four heroes…

No, no…. how about…

… their spirits ablaze
Men, hobbit and elf…

Too long… hmm....

When the morning star spread her rays over the quiet land
Nobody knew of the danger near at hand
The wind on their face, their spirits ablaze
.....
.....
An unexpected league, from many a race

That’s good… very good!’ He grinned broadly ‘I knew this is what I needed… but all this writing and thinking is hungry work! Alas, my food is already cold… well, no use in bothering good Rowan again, I’ll find my way to the kitchen.’

He grabbed his plate and his mug and walked to the kitchen. Timidly sticking his head in, he asked out loud ‘Hello? Miss Rowan? I just wanted to get a little food, mine has grown cold, but I did not want to bother you. Hello?’

[Lalaith]

Lily Bunce adjusted the knapsack on her back and scratched her head distractedly. She was very tired, having spent a most anxious night in a nearby haystack. It wasn’t that sleeping in haystacks troubled her, for she was often forced to resort to such rough lodgings on her job-seeking tramps round the countryside. But in the early hours of the morning, well before dawn, the darkness had been suddenly been full of frantic howling and panting. She was shaken out of her usual stolidity, and crawled deep into the heavy, dank-smelling straw, cowering with terror, not daring to come out until the sun was high in the sky.

Seeing the sign of the Golden Perch, the sturdy, weather-beaten little figure in faded gingham began to march more purposefully. A good a place to ask for work, for one thing. For another, she could buy some breakfast, and even doze at a trestle to catch up on her lost sleep. Perhaps she might even find out what all that nocturnal howling was about.

Expecting to find just the odd gaffer in the barroom at this hour, Lily was amazed to see it so crowded and with so many customers talking excitedly and drinking. Strange faces….there was one of the Big People, singing and toasting his fellows. There were other Big Folk, all manner of hobbits…and, bless my buttons, was that an elf-lady there by the fire?

Lily felt aware of being unkempt and dishevelled, even by the standards of a labourer, and was slightly ashamed. “Good morning, good people. Might a body get a bite of breakfast?” She found a place at a trestle table near some other hobbits, and as she ate, began to feel more confident.

“I’m Lily Bunce, my folk are from Hardbottle,” she confided to her neighbours. “I’ve just come from Willowbottom over in South Farthing, I was helping with the lambing there. Now I need a spot of work to tide me over til hop-picking begins, and I’ve heard as how there’s plenty going about round Stock. And it's a lively place and no mistake, I can see that as plain as the nose on your face. I had a terrible night, you know,” she continued artlessly. “Slept in a stack yonder, I was woken by such howls, I thought the kelpies were come to get me.” She grinned cheerfully. “But it’s easy to forget the ghouls of the night when you’re in good company, with a fire in the hearth, and ham and eggs in your belly.”

[bill_n_sam]

With a somewhat self-important clearing of his throat, the middle aged hobbit directly to the left of Lily replied, “A terrible night was it, Miss? Well, you’re lucky howls is all you encountered!” He took a quick gulp of tea and continued. “Wolves! That’s what you heard! If you can reckon it. Wolves in the shire!” He picked up a half eaten piece of toast and crammed it into his mouth. Chewing purposefully, he nodded several times vaguely in the direction of the inn yard. Swallowing, he opened his mouth to speak, sending a light shower of crumbs onto Lily. “Right out there they were – right in the stable! Huge brutes! Bold as brass, they were. Have you ever heard anything like it?”

Not waiting for a reply, he went on. “I hurried right over, of course, being Shiriff for these parts. You’re from Hardbottle, you say? Can’t say as I’ve ever been that far afield myself. Now, I’ve heard of some Bunces, but to my recollection, they were all from over Frogmorton way. Might you be related to any of those, by any chance?” Shoveling half a fried egg into his never still mouth, he managed to say, “Rusty. Rusty Smallborough – that’s me. And could I trouble you to pass the pepper?”

[Kath]

Cir woke as her brother's excited voice penetrated her sleep, or at least the Elvish version of it. Ignoring him she snuggled further under the covers and dozed back off, but was rudely reawakened as he pulled her blanket away from her. Shielding her eyes from the bright rays of sunshine coming through the uncovered window Cir gave her brother a glare that told him exactly what she thought of being disturbed this early.

"Maybe I shouldn't have teased him for being the second born all those years." She mused to herself, grumpily retrieving her blanket from the floor where Cir had thrown it. "Then perhaps he wouldn't be quite so keen to beat me in getting everywhere else."

Her thoughts were interrupted as her brother once again prevented her from returning to her blissfully unaware state by talking at her, and far too loudly for this time in the morning.

"There were wolves! Down in the courtyard, the Hobbits and others were fighting them off!"

Startled Cir woke up enough to glance out of the window, not awake enough yet to think that her brother might have made the whole thing up. Sure enough the dead body of a wolf was lying there.

"Do you think we should go down?" Cir's concerned voice reached her ears and she turned away, yawning wide.

"No, I'm sure it's alright now." She mumbled sleepily, thinking the danger past.

"But there was more than one, the others just ran off, it - "

"Tell you what Cir," she interrupted a little sharply, desperate to get back to bed, "why don't you go down, have some breakfast and see if they need any help with anything. You take our money and I'm sure Dick will tell you how much you need to pay."

She eyed him, knowing he was aware of her dislike for early morning starts, but also knowing that this knowledge gave him the power to seriously annoy her if he chose to. Fortunately it seemed that he was more interested in the goings on downstairs than needling her as he made ready to go.

As he headed out of the door Cir closed the curtains, blocking out the sunlight, and fell back onto her bed, asleep before she landed.

[Folwren]

The noise and disturbance the wolves caused was surprisingly quickly dealt away with. Tollers’ alarm had brought hobbits and help from every side and the wolves were killed or driven away. Dick had had no hand in it. He stood outside the kitchen door, cheering the others on, with Cela Bunce and Primrose at his side. He felt so happy after the battle was over and the hobbits, men, and elf came out victorious, that he called for a free breakfast for everyone present. They’d like that, sure.

“And give them plenty, Cela and Prim!” he said cheerfully, sending the two ladies back to work. “Such fighting probably brings one a prodigious great appetite.”

A call sounded at the kitchen door. “Hello? Miss Rowan? I just wanted to get a little food, mine has grown cold, but I did not want to bother you. Hello?” The three hobbits turned to see a man looking half shyly through the door.

“Come in, my fine fellow!” Dick called, beckoning him in and grinning broadly. “We’ll serve you up something right quick. Cold eggs aren’t any good.” He took Robby’s plate and scraped the food into a waiting bucket for uneaten food. Cela, at the same took, took a new plate from the counter, dished up an entire new breakfast and handed it back to him. “Is there anything else we can help you with?” Dick asked.

[Tiffany Aching]

‘Well, now Cookie, what is the matter, girl?!’ Miribelle leaned forward on the seat of the cart and flicked the reins lightly along the flanks of her pony.

Cookie, however, would not budge. The sturdy little sandy colored pony set her legs stiffly and laid back her ears. The stink of wolf was getting stronger as she approached the stable. Her nostrils were flaring and her big brown eyes were rolling in an anxious manner.

Miss Rushybanks set the handbrake and climbed down from the cart. The yard did seem somewhat in a state of disarray, as if a number of large animals had been running amuck in the grass and dirt.

‘Will!’ she called out, coming to stand by Cookie’s head, the reins grasped firmly in her right hand as her left hand clasped onto the pony’s bridle. ‘Will! It’s Miss Rushybanks, dear.’ She raised her voice another notch. ‘Can you come give me a hand with Cookie, if you would.’

[Arry]

At the sound of his name being called, Will came rushing out from the rear end door of the stable. He’d only just recently awakened, and only then to discover the fracas that had occurred in the stable proper. He’d been in bed, sleeping some fevered dreams after the tea he’d gotten last night from Cela. His arm was aching fiercely as he stumbled out of bed and attempted to tuck in his shirt.

‘Miss Miribelle!’ he called back to the prim little lady trying to keep her pony calm. ‘Here, let me take Cookie from you. I think I’ll just tie her on the other side of the Inn.’ He saw the alarm on Miribelle’s face and quickly reassure her he would bring the pony water and a nice pile of hay to munch on. ‘Going to bring the other horses and ponies over there, too,’ he went on. ‘Keep her company.’ Will glanced back at the stable with its gaping doors. ‘Been quite and uproar in there, this early morning. Wolves! Poor horses were frightened half out of their skins!’

He freed Cookie of the little cart; then, took the reins from Miribelle. ‘You go on in and have yourself something to eat and drink, Miss Miribelle.’ He started leading the pony to the other side of the Perch. ‘Cookie and I will do just fine.’

[Farael]

Robby was given a new plate full of food, enough to satisfy a grown man and yet probably not enough for these folks. ‘Ah, hobbits, always so kind’ he thought ‘No, good sir,' Robby added out loud, answering Dick's question 'I think this should be it, unless… well, you see, I got here late last night and there was some singing and all... and I wonder if you could perhaps, if it would not be too much of a trouble –and if it is too much of a trouble don’t hesitate to tell me, good sir- well, maybe introduce me to those good folks who were singing?’ Robby felt suddenly embarrassed, like that time a long time ago when he had met that mysterious man.

Back in Breeland, when he was just a lad of ten summers or so, he and a few of his friends had gone to the Green Dragon Inn to run some errands. The Inn was almost empty, only a few men and one of those strange folks, rangers they called them. He was clad in a dark cloak, but the hood was down, so he could see the man’s face. The ranger looked scary, almost threatening, and yet there was a light in his eyes, almost a longing as the boisterous group of lads swarmed around the common room. The stranger saw them and asked the lads if they wanted to hear a story. All the other lads ran away, but Robby stayed behind and shyly listened to this man’s tale. Ten years later that story still haunted his dreams, yet he had never been able to put it into a song. But then, that wasn’t as unusual as Robby would have you think.

[Forest Elf]

Gable sat quietly in a tree, thoughts filling her mind. She couldn't get the pony, or wolves out of her mind, she was grateful for the help, and glad that they were chased away, but how much longer until they attack again? And next time, will everyone be safe? Will someone be caught off guard with no way to defend themselves?

She shook her head to try and get rid of these forbidding thoughts, but they stuck in her head like glue. She couldn't help but to wonder when and where they would next attack, what if it was somewhere in town, away from the Inn, or an unwary traveler? She sighed and jumped down from the tree and headed to the stables, and quietly began mucking out a stall.

She focused her mind on her work, so that her thoughts wouldn't fill her mind and torment her with worry. She loved adventures, she loved the thrill of it, but she also loved the Shire, and its hobbit people. She didn't want them to get hurt, or worse...She shook her head and kept mucking out the pony's stall. She scooped out another load with the pitchfork and a small locket lay in the injured pony's stall that caught her eye. She leaned down and picked it up. It had a gold chain, and a small lock, that a key would have to open, to small to pick open with no name upon it. She brushed off some of the dirt to see if she could find a name, but it hadn't a single letter upon or any kind of inscription that would give her any idea of who owned this. She put the locket in her pocket and pushed the thoughts from her mind, and finished mucking out the injured pony's stall.

[Anguirel]

A low voice at Lily Bunce's elbow made her a gruff reply, as if the words were being eked unwillingly out of a hillside.

"Wolves, hrrmm. They get worse each year. Here's hoping the Thain will get a hunt together."

The speaker nodded rather portentously at his own speech, and then resumed staring into his tankard for a while. Lily, who had looked towards him to listen, was just starting to turn to her right when he spoke again.

"Still, there's been rain for the farm, small mercies to be thanked for I suppose..."

The sturdy looking Hobbit took a swig of his ale, not particularly enthusiastically, as if drinking it were some weighty duty. Lily got a detailed look at him. Something about him seemed calculated to dampen the spirits. His hands and clothes, liberally begrimed, belied his relatively well-spoken voice. His eyes seemed dissatisfied. He was neither tall in Hobbit terms, nor especially small. His hair was the same colour as the mud that occasionally spattered it.

He seemed to notice Lily's gaze, even perhaps be a little unnerved by it. "My name's...m'name's Grand...I mean to say, Gandrio Dwellover," he muttered quickly and pretty unintelligibly; then, more clearly, as if gaining orientation, "Mistress Romilia's son, up at Dwellover Farm."

After another short pause he conceded, "Course, no reason you should know the place," and took another slightly forlorn gulp of ale.

[Tevildo]

Humph! mused Tollers. What sort of strange fellow was this?

Tollers had never heard of any hobbit with a name like Gandrio Dwellover. It sounded rather odd to him. Neither was he familiar with Mistress Romilia or any Dwellover Farm, and he knew a good number of folk in these parts. Now the lass that the stranger was speaking with, the one named Lily Bunce, looked like a sensible hobbit, even if her gingham was a bit faded and she'd admitted to sleeping in a pile of hay. After all, he himself had been hard pressed on more than one occasion.

Still, it would not do to be inhospitable to guests. Master Dick had given very explicit instructions on that point. He went up to the two of them, beaming his most welcoming smile, although privately wondering about the name Gandrio, and then began to speak. "Well, Miss Lily , I don't know about any permanent positions open but Master Dick the Innkeeper, is often on the look out for a spot of temporary help. And we've had a few folk taking tumbles off the roof so they're laid up a bit. You might want to talk with Master Dick. If anyone can help you with that, it's him."

"As to you.... Master Gandrio. A pleasure to meet you. That is your name, I believe? Most unusual.... You are welcome here, though I am afraid I have never had the pleasure of meeting your mother or visiting Dwellover Farm. Would they be in these parts, or have you come to us from a more distant part of the Shire or perhaps even Bree?" Then he added as an afterthought so as not to be negligent in his duties, "Can I get you two anything to eat? I know sleeping in haypiles always makes me ravenous."

[Boromir88]

Eddie woke up with his blonde hair rustled up after a peaceful and quiet slumber. In fact, he had completely slept through unaware of the wolf attack. When he went into the common room he was surprised to see how lively and active it was in the morning. I might just want to go back to my nice comfortable bed, Edric thought to himself. Like he told Robby last night, he was not a morning person, he was more of a night owl. At least, he wasn't a morning person until he had a refreshing cup of morning coffee in him.

Edric did see Robby again and had the sense of kindness to greet him a good morning. Robby told Edric about the wolf attack this morning and how they were driven off and that was the clammer of the morning. "And to think I slept through all the madness." Eddie laughed boisterously. "Though, I don't know how much help I could have been. The best help would probably have been talking the wolves to death. Now if you can excuse me Robby, I must go and feed my addiction...coffee addiction that is. I fear I won't be too pleasant to have for company without a freshly brewed cup in the morning."

If Eddie was addicted to something besides talking, it was his need for coffee. "It's a never-ending cycle I tell you. Sure, it does a handy trick in getting rid of my headaches, but it gives me the headaches in the first place!"

Eddie left Robby's company and ordered the darkest roast the Golden Perch had to offer. He sat near a strapping young hobbit lad, who he had not seen before, yet heard the hobbit call himself Gandrio. Hmmm, he seems rather nervous? Perhaps, I can help the little Master out? Ah, I better wait for this hot, strong brew before I start making new acquaintances today.

[Tiffany Aching]

Miribelle was not one to go indoors, even into a Public House, with dust on her feet. She stood at the door to the Perch and stamped with a ladylike vigor on the mat; then, as a second thought, twitched the cloak she wore, sending what little dirt there was along its hem flying in the morning breeze.

The common room was warm and inviting. And the smell of breakfast foods made her nose twitch with anticipation. She set herself down at at a small table and waved to one of the servers. ‘Eggs, please,’ she said. ‘Yes, scrambled will do nicely. And a rasher of bacon, fried crisp. Biscuits…two, mind you…if that wonderful Miss Cela has made them this morning.’ She raised her nose slightly and sniffed with appreciation. ‘Tea? No, not this morning, I think.’ She sniffed again. ‘Coffee, today, if you please. With sugar and a small pot of cream.’ She gave the server a smile and a satisfied nod of her head. ‘Yes…that will do me quite nicely.’

Once the server had gone, she reached into the bag she’d set by her chair and fished about in it. ‘Ah, there you are!’ she exclaimed, fetching out her knitting needles with a work in progress slung between them. Miribelle eased out a length of pinkish yarn and began to work on another row.

Click-clack…click-clack went the needles, as her hands worked independent of her eyes – both of which swept the room with an avid interest, taking in all the little doings, the comings, the goings of those about her.

[Firefoot]

It never rains but pours, thought Cela as she bustled about the kitchen. Whether the bout with the wolves in the stable had woken people up or stimulated their appetites or even if the wolves had naught to do with it at all, suddenly everyone seemed to be wanting breakfast, ending the calm of the early morning.

Not that Cela minded, of course. If she truly could not stand the bustle, she would not have lasted as long as she had. She only missed Primrose's able assistance, for while Prim was still helping, rolling out dough and forming biscuits on the table where she could sit, this still meant that no one could be standing near the bacon or the cooking biscuits to make sure nothing burned. Cela did not think she had ever truly realized how much she relied on Primrose.

Well, if we were hoping for a slightly less eventful day than yesterday... it sure hasn't started out that way.

[Undómë]

‘Well, we’d better brew up a large pot of coffee!’ Rowan said, rushing through the door into the kitchen. ‘Maybe two.’ She got out the beans from the pantry and took down the coffee mill (http://giftswami.com/gg2265.jpg) from the shelf. Cranking the handling round and round with vigor, she soon had enough ground up coffee beans to put in the two percolators (http://shop.womansday.com/ProductImages/homedecor/old-times-coffee-L.jpg). She filled the two with already hot water from the big kettle, then set them to perking on the back burners of the wood stove.

Grabbing up a tray, she placed on it several plates with eggs and bacon and Cela’s big fluffy biscuits. Pots of honey and jam and butter were tucked in about the plates, as well as bundles of tableware for the prospective diners.

‘Coffee’ll be right out, Miss Rushybanks,’ Rowan said with a smile. ‘Just brewing a pot up fresh now.’ She set the platter of food down, and placed the sugar bowl and small pitcher of cream down on Miribelle’s table in anticipation of bringing her coffee soon. ‘Here’s a small glass of cider to tide you over until the coffee is done.’

Rowan hastened over to the man from Rohan, Master Gulwine, and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. ‘Just brewing the coffee now, sir,’ she said. She nodded at Gandrio and the Hobbit lass whose name she soon learned was Lily Bunce. ‘I see your friends here are placing their breakfast orders with Tollers. Would you like some food to wash down with your coffee?’

[bill_n_sam]

Swiping the last crust of toast through a smear of egg yolk, Rusty crammed the bread into his mouth and shoved his stool away from the crowded table. Nodding perfunctorily at Lily and her neighbor on the other side, he rose and brushed the crumbs from his waistcoat. Sticking his thumbs through his braces, he ambled over to the kitchen doorway, stepping aside as Rowan rushed through with a heavily laden tray.

“Now Dick,” Rusty began, thrusting his head in the door. “What’s all this I hear about wolves . . . “The shirrif broke off abruptly as he caught sight of Prim standing propped up on her crutch. The lass looked tired and distressed. “Why cousin, whatever in the world has befallen you?” Rusty asked, more upset that he had somehow missed out on some bit of local happenings than the fact that his young cousin was hurt. Shaking his head ruefully, Rusty surveyed this distant relation, a second cousin three times removed if he had calculated rightly. Prim always had been a touch flighty, no doubt she was the cause of her own injuries. Well, no wonder, growing up with that loud brood of brothers and sisters. Rusty had been a bit skeptical when he had first heard of her leaving the family abode and taking up as Miss Cela’s assistant. But she had done well, had little Prim, and no shame to the family at all. His initial irritation at being out of the loop of local gossip giving way quickly to his innate sense of compassion, Rusty’s look softened as he asked again, “Now, my lass, you’re looking right done up. What’s happened to you?”

[Celuien]

Between wolves and the accidents plaguing the Inn, Primrose had started to think that she'd have a better chance of peace and quiet at home. Wolves. Who ever would believe it? Leastways, it looks as if they've been chased off. Thank goodness. She shook her head and stopped slicing her biscuit dough to rub her leg, propped on a chair covered with a stack of soft pillows.

Cela noticed the pause. "Doing alright there, Primrose?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm managing pretty well." Determined to show how well, Primrose suddenly stood and hopped to the oven to check the last batch of biscuits. Her leg protested the motion with a jab that made her wince just as a new voice rang out in the kitchen.

"What's all this I hear about wolves?" was quickly followed by, "Why cousin, whatever in the world has befallen you?"

Prim suddenly felt a longing to hurry out the back door and hide. That voice was familiar - she'd heard it at birthday parties for her father's connections. A cousin of some sort. She wasn't sure of the exact relationship, her father's family having mostly considered her Hobbiton-allied mother as 'odd folk.' They had mostly kept their distance, unless to stop in for tea to peer in to see if folk from other parts of the Shire were as strange as they thought, and if the 'poor children' were like to turn out as odd. They were rarely disappointed, since they seemed to have a knack for finding any predictions they made true no matter what the situation.

"Befallen? You might say that. I had quite a fall yesterday from a ladder, and I've had quite enough of falls for the present, I must say." She smiled, certain that her accident would rapidly become family gossip and add to the general impression of her being odd and flighty. "How have you been, Cousin Rusty?"

[bill_n_sam]

Rusty inched his way into the kitchen, his hand warily creeping forward to the tray of cooling bisquits which lay on the nearby shelf. Picking his moment, as Cela turned her back to tend to the things cooking on the large stovetop, he grabbed one of the flakey, buttery creations and winked at Prim. As Cela whirled around, Rusty whipped the bisquit behind his back, his face a study in innocence. He kept his gaze riveted on the far wall as Prim politely replied to his inquiry.

"Befallen? You might say that. I had quite a fall yesterday from a ladder, and I've had quite enough of falls for the present, I must say." She smiled, certain that her accident would rapidly become family gossip and add to the general impression of her being odd and flighty. "How have you been, Cousin Rusty?"

“Oh, me? Can’t complain. Can’t complain, young ‘un. My roof’s sprung a leak like a geyser, what with the rain we’ve had lately. My shoulder’s been a little tetchy, what with the damp and all in the cell.” Rusty made an appropriate grimace as he rotated said shoulder cautiously. “I keep telling them over Michel Delving way that there roof’s needed fixing for the past year or so. But do they listen? Why, if I ever do need to lock anyone up there, they’d be able to climb their way right out through the hole that’s a gapin’ there now.”

His gaze focusing once more on his young cousin, the shiriff took on a more fatherly tone, as he pontificated. “Fallen off a ladder, is it? Well, now, missy, you should be more careful of yourself. No need to go clambering about like a squirrel, not at your age! And where was that Will of yours while you was a fallin’ down like an over ripe walnut? Next thing you know, the wolves will be a carrying you away and him not knowing til he’s gone home and missed his supper.” Rusty assumed an air of righteous indignation at this lack of sufficient care of his cousin on the part of that whipsnap Will.

[Lalaith]

Well, thought Lily, and blessed herself – this is a pretty kettle of fish. It was bad enough finding foreigners and Big Folk here in the Shire…but wolves....she had never heard the like. But on the other hand…as she tucked into her second breakfast, and sipped a hot mug of coffee...on the other hand, for all the rumpus and ructions, the Perch seemed a cheery, homely place. Everyone so friendly and cosy, like.

There were surely good positions to be had in such a neighbourhood for a hard-working lass. That Shirriff...a fine, plain-spoken gentleman, nodded Lily approvingly to herself, no airs and graces there…well, he might know of something, travelling about so much as he did. She would try to catch him when he had finished his family business. She was also grateful to the cheery young barman, not just for the two fine breakfasts he had served her, but for the tip-off about inn-work.

And that Mr Dwellover. Not the most dapper fellow she had ever seen, to be sure, and certainly not one for blethering - but Lily still thought, optimistically, with such a fancy name he must be a proper gentlehobbit. Perhaps he and his mother needed a good strong girl to help at their farm. A master with book-learning, she thought to herself, wistfully, with a bit of time to spare in the evenings... But for now, Lily decided, she would sacrifice some of her wages on a room for the night – yes, with a bath. She was certain that no respectable person would give work to a lassie with hayseed in her hair and stains on her bodice.

[Celuien]

At first, Primrose had been amused by her cousin. The wink and craftily snatched biscuit brought a dimpled grin, and she had nearly laughed aloud. But when Will's name came into the conversation, Primrose flushed hot as if she were standing over the oven's flames.

"Now don't you go and blame Will for this!" she cried out, taking offense for Will's sake. "There's naught that he could have done to stop the fall, and then he hurt himself tumbling down after trying to help me."

Rusty's eyebrows arched like two question marks. "Tumbled down after?"

"Yes. I was trying to bring his lunch up to where he was fixing the stable roof, and I fell, and then he fell when he came to see if I was hurt. And..." Primrose's voice caught as she came to the thing that had bothered her almost more than anything else Rusty said. Will wasn't her Will.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing." Primrose couldn't talk about that problem with Rusty. "But it wasn't Will's fault at all. But come! Any other news? You must have some, being Shiriff and seeing so many folk all the time." Primrose hoped that the change of subject would distract her cousin on to some topic of Shire gossip that was a bit less uncomfortable for her.

[Arry]

Will craned his neck, his head swinging from side to the other. ‘Ah! There she is,’ he said, as he spied Miss Miribelle, her needles flying. Rowan was on her way toward the table with a large steaming mug of tea clasped in her hand.

‘I’ll take that,’ Will declared reaching for the mug with his good hand. ‘I’m going over to speak to Miss Miribelle; might as well show up with her drink.’ He winked at Rowan and turned toward the elder Hobbit lady’s table, walking carefully so as not to spill the hot liquid.

The steam from the drink streamed toward his face as he went along. ‘Not tea, then….’ he thought to himself, as the pungent odor hit his nose. He gave Miss Miribelle and appraising look. ‘The old gal’s having coffee!’

‘Your coffee, Miss Rushybanks!’

He gave Miribelle a wide smile as he put down the mug on the table. ‘And not a drop spilled.’ He sat down cradling his injured arm. ‘Just wanted to let you know Cookie is happy where I put her. Gave her some fresh hay and a small nosebag of oats.’

He watched as she sugared her coffee and poured in a generous portion of cream. ‘You know, I’ve never tried that outland brew. Always thought it smelled good.’ He nodded his head. ‘You like it, yes?’

[Tiffany Aching]

‘Well, now, I do find myself becoming quite fond of it. Not that I’ve given up tea altogether, mind you,’ she hastened to add. ‘It’s just that this coffee has a deeper mystery to it. And sometimes when I’m drinking it I think about the warm, mountainous country in the south where the little brown beans come from.’

Being for most purposes a quite practical person, her cheeks colored a bit to be caught out at fantasizing. She pushed her mug toward Will with a nod. ‘Take a little sip, if you’d like. Not quite as strong as drunk plain. But I find I like it better tempered with a bit of sugar and a generous drop of cream stirred in.’

[bill_n_sam]

Rusty surveyed his young cousin. Her injury was certainly responsible for some of the anguish he saw in her face, despite her efforts to put a good show. But the sadness in her eyes could not all have come from the fall. Sensing her reluctance to say more about how matters stood at the moment, Rusty had compassion enough to bite at the proffered bait and let things slide, for the moment.

“Well, young Primrose, I can’t say as there’s been any more eventful news than the excitement you’ve had here right at the inn. Wolves in the Shire! Tis a good thing you weren’t out and about when they were running amuck. With that game leg of yours, you’d been their breakfast, sure as sure can be.” Rusty’s eyes twinkled at her and he winked again. “Now, as for other doings round abouts, ‘twould seem things have been mostly quiet. Old Farmer Ham, now his old sow’s had a wonderous big littler – thirteen of the little squealers! I saw them myself, I did. I hold that’s a record here in Stock. But that know-it-all Bill Buckburrow, he claims there was a pig had fifteen, over to the Hollow. I don’t believe him though. He was always a one for trying to top a story, just for the sake of hearing his own voice.”

Rusty scratched his head thoughtfully, pushing his cap back and slightly askew. “Now what else is news?” he murmured. “Ah! Just now, as I was finishing up my breakfast, I heard a young miss from all the way over to Hardbottle saying she was asleeping in a hay rick when them wolves set to howling and she near died of fright! Have to be very careful these days, wandering about on the roads. She said as how she was looking for work hereabouts. Do you know of anyone needing an extra hand? She looked a sturdy thing, said she’d been helping with the lambing over Willowbottom way.”

[Arry]

Holding the mug near his nose, Will inhaled the enticing aroma of the coffee. With a nod to Miss Miribelle he took a large gulp of the hot liquid.

Oh, my! he thought, pushing the mug back across the table

His eyes began to water as the underlying taste of the brew invaded his tongue. And he felt his throat constrict against his swallowing. Will raised his brow to Miss Miribelle and raised his index finger as if to say, ‘Just a moment. Be right back.’

Will scrambled up quickly from his chair and made a dash for the kitchen, barely making it to the sink. He spat out the coffee and willed himself not to heave up the breakfast he’d eaten earlier.

‘Gah!’ he muttered, swishing some water about in his mouth to rinse it. ‘That was disgusting!’

[Folwren]

Dick had told Robby that he did not think any of the guests who had sung or played the night before had yet joined the company in the common room, but he would let him know as soon as he spotted one of them. “I’ll be out shortly, I imagine,” he said as he showed the man to the door. “And I doubt the others will be long in getting up.”

He returned to the kitchen table and his coffee and in a few minutes, Cella set a plate of breakfast before him and Primrose. They ate with little talking between them this morning. Dick was in a hurry to get out into the common room and exchange gossip and ideas about this wolf attack and Primrose didn’t talk much on her own accord this morning. Come to think, that was odd. . .Prim generally talked as much as any young hobbit lass. Was her leg hurting her all that much?

As though guessing his thoughts and trying to prove otherwise, she got up almost the next moment and moved towards the stove. He looked up, worried that she would hurt herself, but before he could voice any concern, the sheriff walked into the kitchen, and a conversation was taken up between him and Primrose. Dick shrugged and returned his full attention to his breakfast.

Just as he was finishing up his ear caught the tail end of the sheriff’s discussion. “Just now, as I was finishing up my breakfast, I heard a young miss from all the way over to Hardbottle saying she was asleeping in a hay rick when them wolves set to howling and she near died of fright! Have to be very careful these days, wandering about on the roads. She said as how she was looking for work hereabouts. Do you know of anyone needing an extra hand? She looked a sturdy thing, said she’d been helping with the lambing over Willowbottom way.”

Dick smiled and stood up as he picked up his plate. “I might be needing her myself!” he said. “Just for a little while. Don’t look like that, Primrose,” he said as she sent him a disappointed and reproving look. “You’re not fit to be doing all the work that you were. You need time to rest and to heal up.”

Before Primrose had half a chance to reply to Dick, Will suddenly burst into the kitchen. He must have come at the door at an angle, running fast. He nearly bounced off the door post as he tried to make the turn - anyhow it gave him momentum enough to nearly make the sink in two bounds. Something spewed from his mouth and he choked and rinsed his mouth with water for several seconds.

“Gah!” they heard him gasp. “That was disgusting!”

An amused twitch twisted Dick’s mouth as he tried to look sober. “What’s the trouble, Will?” he asked, honestly curious.

[Forest Elf]

Gable had just finished mucking out the last of the stalls. Then she supplied the ponies with fresh hay and water. She sat on a pile of hay and took out the locket again, puzzled at its being in the injured pony’s stall…She sighed as again, she could find no place anywhere of any inscription of whom it could belong to. She rubbed one side against her sleeve, to wipe of a tiny smudge on the edge, but, as she expected, nothing was writing under the smudge, or engraved into the locket. She knew that she couldn’t keep it secret, because if one of the visitor’s here were leaving today, it would be lost to them until their next visit, if they were to come once again to the Golden Perch Inn…

She sighed again, and put the lock back into her pocket. She had a sudden memory flash in front of her eyes, briefly, but one of the few that she had when she headed in a certain direction, off in her own imagination from when she was little. She had been pretending to help to slay a dragon, who was feeling rather grumpy about someone steeling his gold crown and a couple of medallions and his favorite goblet. He had been attacking the village for hours and she was among the three brave villagers’ who had the courage to face the dragon without any wizards being in the area.

They had been fighting for hours, their feet sore from the long walk, their arms tired from holding their shields and weapon. The dragon kept shooting a wave of flame at them, but then, she had been interrupted from her play, by a cry down by the river. She instantly ran down to it, though she knew the cry to be neither human nor elf. She had just reached the bank when she had seen a wolf pup struggling in the river, and she never knew why she did, but she climbed onto a branch and reached out over the river, where she had accidentally fallen in herself, when she had promised her parent’s to stay out of the water for one day, and trouble. Then struggling, she had saved the poor creature. Once she had reached the other side of the bank, she put the cub down and he bowed his head and then raised it and howled. Soundlessly, his mother came and through a silent understanding, thanked her, in some mysterious way….

Then, as sudden as the memory had come, it had vanished. She blinked and wondered why she had thought of it, after being nearly killed by three of them. She had always known that she could be strong, and brave, yet she always had a soft spot for little ones, one that she had never been able to overcome. She then shook the thoughts from her mind, and checked on the injured pony again. Eating like all the other pony’s, and some-what spook-able.

She then headed into the inn where she headed into the kitchen, and found Will swishing his mouth full of water. Then she heard Dick ask, “What’s the trouble, Will?” somewhat amusingly, but a more of it was curiosity. Without giving anyone the time to say something she cassually asked, to no one in particular, “Do you know of anyone who has lost a locket?”

[Envinyatar]

In Breeland the requests for coffee, hot and strong, were a little more frequent than here inside the Shire bounds. Or so Jack recalled from the Inns and public houses he’d sat about in back there. Ale of course came first for thirst, followed by tea in thick walled mugs with spoonfuls of sugar, then that dark brew, coffee.

‘Come up from the south,’ one of the kitchen boys had told him. Along with something called cinnamon, he later learned, having stolen a rack of enticing smelling cookies from one of the Inn’s kitchen windowsills. Even now his tongue remembered how they'd been covered in sugar with a pinch of some reddish brown powder that gave them a lovely spicy sweet taste. His mouth watered at the memory.

‘Pour you a little more of that…errr…coffee, m’am?’ Jack said drawing near to the table where Miribelle Rushybank sat. A largish pot of tea was held tight in one of his bony fists, while his other hand grasped a smaller, silvered ewer with a long spout like a swan’s neck and a high domed top. He raised the silver pot up his brow raised in question.

‘Name’s Jack, m’am. Jack Greymoss,’ he went on, noting her skeptical eyeing of him. ‘Master Boffin was kind enough to let me work a little for my keep. Just helping out as best I can.’

[piosenniel]

Bêthberry has offered a seasonal RPG in Rohan – The Veil is Lifted.

It’s a 7th Age game, based loosely around Hallowe’en and open to all comers.

Come join us and have a little fun!

Game Thread – HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=13350)
Discussion Thread – THERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=13351)

~*~ Pio

[Celuien]

Primrose watched Will as he stood over the sink, still swishing water around his mouth with his face twisted in disgust.

"What's the trouble, Will?"

A still queasy-looking Will raised his hand, asking for a moment to recover before answering.

"Do you know of anyone who has lost a locket?" asked Gable. At almost the same moment, Primrose burst into laughter at Will's predicament.

"Oh, poor Will," she gasped between guffaws. "If you could see your face right now. I've not seen such a sight since the time the Tunnelly children slipped salt in the sugar bowls. When you're feeling better, I'd like to know the trouble too. do hope it's not a problem with our cooking." She laughed again until she was breathless.

"I'm sorry, Gable. I didn't mean to stop anyone's answering your question. A lost locket?" Prim winked at Rusty. "That sounds like it might be a case for our Sheriff."

[Forest Elf]

"I'm sorry, Gable. I didn't mean to stop anyone's answering your question. A lost locket?" Prim winked at the sheriff. "That sounds like it might be a case for our Sheriff."

“I found it out in the stable – in one of the stalls..” Gable replied, thoughtfully. Gable looked at the locket once more before laying placing it into the sheriff's hand.

[bill_n_sam]

Rusty’s ears pricked up at Gable’s inquiry and Prim’s suggestion. A lost locket did indeed sound like a matter for him to concern himself with, especially if it allowed him to stick his nose into someone else’s business. As Will continued to sputter at the sink, the Shirif stepped closer to the elf, who now held the piece of jewelry outstretched in her hand. Without being asked, she dropped the small bit of finery into his palm. Rusty poked at it with his stubby forefinger, as if he could prod it into revealing its origin. “Can’t say’s I’ve seen the likes of this on anyone around here.” Rusty opined in a puzzled voice. “Where’d you find this un?” He handed the locket back to Gable and looked at her closely. On her face he thought he saw a trace of confusion, though whether from his question or from other source he couldn’t say. In a more official tone, he demanded, “Well? Speak up lass! Cat got your tongue?”

Gable shook her head, and replied evenly enough, “I found it out in the stable – in one of the stalls.” Rusty looked about the kitchen, his chin thrust out slightly, as if any of its occupants might challenge his authority to intervene in this matter. “I think we’d best try to find the owner of this little bauble, eh, Dick? P’raps Gable here should show it round to the folk inside.” Rusty indicated the common room with a nod of his head.

Gable’s brow creased slightly. “But, then someone might claim it even if it wasn’t theirs, couldn’t they Shirif Smallburrow? Wouldn’t it be better if we just announced that we found it and asked anyone who claims it to describe it – to be sure it’s theirs?”

Rusty thought he heard a small guffaw of laughter from the general direction of where Prim was still fussing over Will, but he refused to look their way. With solemn dignity, he replied, “Of course, of course. That’s what I meant, didn’t I? Plain as the nose on my face, isn’t it? Of course that was exactly what I was going to do. Now, come on, lass. Let’s find out what we can before all those breakfasters start moving on for the day.”

[Folwren]

Dick listened to the Sheriff and Gable’s conversation closely, heard Gable’s ideas, Rusty’s confirmation of the wisdom in it, nodded his head in agreement, and sat back down to his breakfast.

“Yes, by all means,” he said, waving his hand towards the door. “Take it on out and talk to them, sheriff. I do hope you find the owner. Gable, you’d better go to, since you found it. I’m going to finish breakfast.” The young elf and the hobbit sheriff went out into the common room together. Dick picked up his fork and resumed eating his breakfast of eggs, bacon, and muffins.

“So, Will – what did happen to you?” he asked around a mouthful. He looked hard at the lad, leaning still on the sink with a cup in his hand. Prim, beside him, choked on a laugh, her head going down and her face bright red with merriment. They’d been talking, clearly, and she knew what the problem was. “What is it, Prim?”

[Celuien]

"What is it, Prim?"

Prim stood propped with her elbow on the edge of the sink. Looking sideways at Will and grinning, she answered, "Not too much. Will says that he's been trying a bit of the 'outland brew.' Coffee from Breeland. And it doesn't seem to agree with him. Oh Will, if only you could have seen your face."

Will spluttered. "You ought to try some yourself. Gah! It's awful."

"I think I will. It can't as bad as all that. We make it back here often enough for the guests, though I'll admit I've never tried it myself. Brewing or drinking." She hopped back to the table while Will fetched the coffeepot to pour her a cup.

He joined her at the table and pushed a steaming cup of black liquid under her nose.

"Try that if you like, but I'm warning you, it's not a good idea."

Primrose lifted the cup. If the coffee tasted as good as it smelled, it would be a treat. Will's reaction made no sense. Until she took a sip. Prim's eyes nose wrinkled from the bitterness of the drink.

She forced herself to swallow and slowly put the cup back on the table. Prim's eyes were watering.

"Well?" asked Will. "Pretty bad, isn't it?"

"It certainly is. But you know, I think I could get used to it." She took another sip. It didn't seem quite as bad as the first. In fact, she was beginning to enjoy the flavor.

[Forest Elf]

Gable started looking around, and taking a deep breath, set her worries aside, she knew that they would find the owner, they just had to. She put aside her fears and let out the breath she didn’t know that she had been holding.

She took another look around the room before asking, “So, where do we start the search?” She wondered who the owner was, and if they noticed that it was even missing yet…

[bill_n_sam]

“So where do we start the search?”

Gable’s question had been marked with a sharp out rushing of breath, causing Rusty to wonder once more if there was something bothering the young elf. Taking his gaze from her worried face, the shirif scanned the common room, contemplating the best way to locate the locket’s owner. The furnishings of the inn were such that some were of a size to accommodate the local regulars, while other bits were more human sized. Reckoning that his own hobbit stature would put him only at about shoulder level with the few taller occupants of the room, seated thought they were, Rusty looked about for a way to bolster his stature.

His eyes came to rest on the small raised platform upon which the frequent entertainments of the inn were performed. There remained two stools from the last night’s players. Rusty grabbed Gable’s elbow and steered her towards the little stage. Jumping up nimbly onto one of the stools, the shirif cleared his throat in his most officious manner. Plucking his thumbs through his braces, his chest swelling out, he spoke in a loud, clear voice, “Attention! Attention please! Everyone settle down now. We’ve an announcement to make here, a very important announcement and we need quiet so’s all can hear.”

He nodded up at Gable, who now stood beside him, her head still far above his own. His eyebrows rose slightly and he nudged her gently in the ribs with his elbow. “Go on, lass.” He whispered hoarsely. “Tell ‘em what you found.” The room had quieted and all eyes were focused on the two, waiting expectantly.

[Forest Elf]

Gable felt the sheriff nudge her in the ribs…probably meaning that she should explain what the announcement was. Her thoughts were confirmed when he whispered, “Go on, lass. Tell ‘em what you found.” Her face turned red from all the eyes staring at her expectantly, and her cheeks felt as though they were drums from being hot and to, suddenly, be expected to explain in a large crowd, with peoples whom she did not know.

Gable took a deep breath, and then began to explain, “Earlier today, I found a locket, out in the stables. If you have, uh, lost a locket…then you can come and explain…what the locket you found looks like, and if your description fits in with the locket I’ve found…then we’ll hand it over.”

[ninja91]

After a long trek, Tarathiel Caldorien wearily walks into the warm-looking building, named accordingly: The Golden Perch Inn. As the ranger walks in, he notices the people inside.

He quietly takes his place in the back, for it seems as though something is going on. A pretty female elf commands the attention in the Inn. He catches her say something about a locket, but pays it no great attention, for the tired elf seeks to clear his mind. I'll see what she has to say, I suppose , he decides, as he too listens to what the elf has to say.

[Folwren]

Dick watched the two young hobbits with amusement in his eyes. They twinkled as Primrose took a gulp of the strong brew and watched as her eyes slowly grew larger and her throat swallowed. He could still remember the first time he had drunk the stuff out of pure necessity. His father-in-law had practically forced him to swallow it when Dick had a splitting head ache still early in the morning.

‘Last night still getting to you, my lad?’ the old hobbit had said. ‘I warned you not to stay up so late without drinking something, but did you listen to your old dad? No, sir! It was, “I’ll be fine, thanks much.” Well, now you know better. Here, drink this. No, I insist.’ Dick hadn’t been able to escape the kitchen. Old Goodbody was a quick hobbit for all his corpulence and Dick was slowed with that terrible headache. Anyhow, the coffee had relieved the pain and the weariness and Dick had drunk it ever since.

“Pretty bad, isn’t it?” Will insisted.

“It certainly is. But you know, I think I could get used to it.”

Dick smiled as he took the last gulp of his own coffee. “I think you could, Prim, and it may do you good, if you should ever become overly tired with that leg of yours. Will, I think you’ve recovered enough. If not, have some water or tea, then you’d better be getting back to work.” He returned his dishes to the counter as he spoke. He thanked Cela for breakfast and straightened his vest before going out into the common room.

Gable and Rusty stood just on the outside of the counter. Gable had apparently just finished speaking, the locket lifted in her hand as she looked from one face of a guest to the next. No one said anything and no one claimed the locket.

After a very long pause, Gable sighed and her hand dropped, lowering the locket. Dick leaned across the counter and tugged at her sleeve. The elf turned towards him. “You’d better keep it back in the kitchen, Gable,” Dick said in a lowered voice. “If anyone should ask for it, we can get it for her, or him.”

[Forest Elf]

Gable nodded and handed the locket over to Dick, and then headed out to the stables, to see if she had forgotten any of the chores there. As usual, nothing had been forgotten, only, one of the water’s was low, and she gave the pony more water.

Then she sat down on a pile of hay and floated out in space, absorbed in her thoughts. ‘I wonder what the pony’s name is…Why are there wolves showing up out of nowhere? And why around here, in the Shire?’ Gable sighed and closed her eyes, then fell back into the hay stack. ‘I never did thank those who helped me when the wolves attacked, did I? May as well find them and thank them…and apologize for not thanking them sooner.’ Gable sighed just before another memory coursed through her head.

She was only ten at the time, when she saw the same wolf pup, though, no longer little, watching her from across the bank; she nearly fell out of the tree, but managed not to do so by hugging the branch. When she looked down at the other side of the creek, the wolf was no longer there…and she continued playing, until one of her friends came over and they started playing together. Gable could have sworn that she could still see those eyes over on the other side of the creek bank, staring there, watching her.

[Folwren]

Dick took the locket that Gable had handed to him and took it back into the kitchen. "Well," he said to the three stil gathered there, "no one spoke up for it apparently. "I wonder who could possibly have dropped it?" He looked at the thing. The chain was small and delicate and the locket glimmered in the bright sunlight coming in through the windows. "Odd. It has a lock to it and can't be opened." He touched it with a finger before sighing and bringing it closer to Cela.

"Here. Is there someplace you can put this where you won't forget and that when someone asks for it you can get it? I told Gable we could keep it in here until someone came looking for it. I figure you could keep an eye on it or something."

He extended the necklace towards her.

[Slifer1988]

Izmakiel took a seat at the back of the inn and watched from the shadows. He unclasped his soiled green travelling cloak and laid it beside him upon the table. He brushed the dried dirt off his shirt and leaned back in his seat. He took out his pipe and lit it, puffing on it thoughtfully. Being a dunedain ranger wasn't easy. There was patrolling to be done and quite often he would be called for some task or another by his Lord.


Izmakiel stood up and walked to the counter. The barman smiled and nodded at him.
"Greetings Ranger, how be you on this fine day?"
Izmakiel chuckled softly, such was the nature of his conversations with this man, always light and comical no matter what the situation.
"I am weary after a long week and in need of a mug of your finest mead. Make it snappy."
The barman turned and as he was pouring the drink, Izmakiel took another long probing look around the Inn. All seemed well. The barman placed the mug down and Izmakiel was reaching into his pocket to pay for it when the barman shook his head.
"This one's on me. You do enough for us around here. The least I can do is fetch you a decent drink and a snack. Go sit down and I shall bring it to you."

Izmakiel smiled and turned away from the bar, walked back to his seat and sat there with his eyes closed deep in thought.

[bill_n_sam]

The lack of response following Gable’s announcement of the lost and now found locket was puzzling. Rusty, however, was not one to be discouraged by such a minor setback. After gable handed the trinket over to Dick’s safe keeping, Rusty determined it was time to put his investigative skills to work.

“I think I’ll just have a look around the stables.” He said, with a nod of his head to Dick, who was retreating once more to the kitchen. Taking Dick’s silence for acquiescence, Rusty hooked his thumbs through his braces and ambled across the common room and out into the morning air. Breathing deeply, he sighed contentedly. Nothing like a bit of detective work on top of a good breakfast to set a hobbit up right, he thought happily. Now, let’s a get a look at those wolf tracks, he said to himself, wandering off towards the stable.

[Firefoot]

"Certainly," said Cela, taking the necklace from Dick's outstreched hand. She examined it closer now and observed the same lock that Dick had pointed out. "It's a shame we can't open it - whatever is inside might offer some clue to whose it is." She flipped it over. "There aren't any initials on the back of it, either."

She thought for a moment and then placed it on the high shelf behind the cinnamon. "I'll just set it right up here. It's bound to be valuable to someone, and I'm sure they'll come asking around for it." She shrugged, already having lost most of her interest in the trifle that Gable had found so fascinating.

As she resumed her cooking, she glanced over at Dick and grinned. "I daresay the Inn itself seems determined to put you through some sort of initiation test. You can't but sit down and you're right back on your feet again finding out what else is wrong. We'll be forgetting what business as usual means - except that folk are always hungry enough."

[Folwren]

“Stars above, I’d say you were right about that, Fair Maiden of the Stove,” Dick said with a huge sigh and then a mock bow. Cela forced herself to scowl at him. He became serious and stepped nearer. “I have to say, though, I agree whole heartedly with you. I certainly hope it’s only for a first, initial test o’ me and things will soon become normal again. Otherwise, I’ll have no other alternative than to believe that I brought horrid bad luck to the place!”

And shaking his head with feelings of evil foreboding, Dick went out of the kitchen and into the main room to see if anyone should need any services rendered them. He stopped at the counter and placed both elbows on it to lean over and glance over the gathering there. Many people sat in pairs, talking and chatting merrily over their breakfasts, or cradling some hot steaming cup in their hands. A few sat alone, eating or drinking in silence.

“I say,” Dick muttered to himself as he caught sight of a strange face in the room. “That poor chap doesn’t have either food or drink. He looks worn out, too,” Dick went on in his mind as he stood up and made his way around the bar. “I wonder if he’s come far already today.” He threaded his way through the tables as he thought and approached a tired, travel stained elf. The stranger noted his approach and he straightened himself in his chair as Dick stopped before his table.

“Good morning, sir!” Dick said with a cheerful smile. “Can I help you? Perhaps you’d like some breakfast? Or a mug of ale to waken your spirits? Perhaps some hot tea or coffee?”

[Boromir88]

Edric had been quietly enjoying his morning cup of coffee when the lady, Gable, announced she had found a locket and for the owner to come and claim it. It appeared to Eddie that Gable seemed sad by having to make this announcement. She probably wanted to keep it, he thought. And by right she should be able to keep it.

Edric usually isn't the type to get involved in matters that don't concern him, but there was something different about this particular matter. He saw the Shiriff go outside and decided to pursue him.

'Greetings, good sir.' He said to the Hobbit. 'My name is Edric Gulwine. I come from Rohan and just arrived here last night. An Elf lady mentioned something about finding a locket?' Edric made a slight pause, to gather his thoughts and think, before he actually said something he might regret later. 'Well, the locket aint mine or anything. But, if you ask me, if nobody claims it by the end of today, that locket should go to the lady who found it. It may not really be my business, but if you ask me, if someone can't hang onto their own things they deserve not to get it back. It's each person's business to take care of and protect their belongings. If they can't do that, than frankly, they don't deserve to have it. That's all.'

Edric didn't even wait for the shiriff to respond. He simply opened the door, to the inn, sat back down, and continued drinking his coffee.

[ninja91]

Hearing this from the gentle looking hobbit, Tarathiel gives his best smile he can despite his appearance.

"Well, I would not say no to some Lembas, but I will happily take anything you have," Tarathiel says, trying not to sound too desperate.

Before the elf knew it, he had joined his hobbit acquaintance in a mug of ale and was having a very good time.

"What brings you here to this little village?" asked Dick.

"Traveling out in the West with a small band. I got separated about a tenday ago. And since I have been looking for somewhere to rest...and I think I have found the place!" replied Tarathiel.

After an exchange of names, the tired elf felt at home.

"Why dont you meet some of my friends here? I am sure they would love to meet you," said Dick.

"I cant say no to that, either," the elf smiled.

[Folwren]

Dick sat with the new elf. He had agreed to take a drink with him. No one was calling for anything and if they did Rowan or Tollers would probably be able to manage it. As Cela had said, Dick hardly had a moment to sit down and now there was a good excuse - a shy elf who apparently wasn’t used to hobbits and inns.

“Why don’t you meet some of my friends here? I am sure they would love to meet you,” he offered.

“I can’t say no to that, either,” Tarathiel said, a small smile coming into his face. Dick grinned and turned about in his chair.

“You’ll have to tell me who you want to meet first. Over there, walking across the room, is Cir. He’s a twin with another elf, but I haven’t seen her today.” Dick turned back towards Tarathiel and leaned across the table towards him. “You won’t guess what they did to me yesterday,” he said. “They came in and introduced both of themselves as Cir! How was I supposed to take that?” The elf shrugged slightly, his eyes fixed on Dick’s face, “I don’t know how I took it, I just did. Anyhow, they’re Cir and Cir, and Cir isn’t down here yet, only Cir is.” He laughed at his own joke and turned back again to point out more familiar faces. When he turned back around, Cir had disappeared, going through the door towards the bedrooms.

“Over there in the corner, with his head back and eyes closed (he’s probably thinking, he does that a lot) is Izmakiel. He came in this morning, about the same time you did, I think. He comes often. He’s a ranger here abouts,” Dick said. “And you’re lost, aren’t you? You said you lost your companions some days ago? Well, Izmakiel may be able to help you find them again.”

“Who was the lady elf who asked about the locket a few minutes ago?”

“Oh that? That’s Gable. She’s been around here for years. I don’t remember when she first came...she helps about the place. She especially likes working with the horses and ponies out in the stables. She rides often, too.

“Over there,” indicating the short, stout figure of Tollers passing between two tables, “is Tollers. He’s a young fellow who works for me. Rowan is over there. Will keeps the horses, he’s in the kitchen, and Primrose and Cela Brandybuck cook all this delicious food for us.”

And so Dick went on, he named what faces he could, and skipped over the rest, until he had covered the whole room, and some people who weren’t even in the room.

“Now,” he said as he finished, turning back to look Tarathiel in the face again, “I’ve named everyone I know well enough to introduce you to. Tell me who you’d like to speak with and I’ll make introductions. After that, I’m afraid I have to get back to my work.”

[ninja91]

"I would really enjoy meeting another ranger. I wonder where he has traveled?" Tarathiel thought aloud.

"Izmakiel? I doubt there is a place in this world where he has not traveled! Let's go over and meet him," offered the hobbit.

As they walked over, Dick told Tarathiel not to mention trolls to him, because poor Izmakiel does not do to well with them.

"But I am sure that you two will find plenty to talk about. I am sure that your paths have taken you to similar places," said Dick.

The two sat down with the ranger, a rugged and dangerous looking fellow.

"...Could I help you?" asked the ranger.

[Mänwe]

Limaris Arahad had been with the company of Rangers for almost a full year, a time in which he had time to reflect upon his decision to leave his mother in Linhir and seek a life in the service of Gondor. What he had wanted to seek and had sought so far was the focus of his thoughts. Apart from the obvious military skills he had acquired and was still acquiring was eclipsed in comparison to the interaction of an individual with others.

A rather deep subject he thought to be pondering on an early morn. However it was this particular skill which he had yearned for the most. Company with other Rangers although friendly was for the best of times serious to the extreme; something he understood given the task appointed to the company. It was however only after camp was made and the pickets set that conversation was allowed, and even then when in the field, regulations required it to be muted.

‘Evening boredom’ and ‘Shire’ was the greatest paradox he had ever known, for over the months he had been observing the borders of Buckland and the few times that he had been tasked with scouting the areas close to dwellings Hobbits were a great fan of evening camaraderie and he would often hear their rich voices carried through door and window of the popular inns.

It was in reflection however the greatest test of self discipline perhaps even torture to observe a folk existing comfortably in their houses, while he remained under the stars on hard ground come all weather.

This train of thought and his own self justification oft provoked the stern and quick rebuke from the company officer who reminded him of his position and task and blamed it on his age. He was inexperienced to have been made a fledged Ranger, however it was his particular skill as a tracker that had caught the attention of the command and landed him here following the convoluted course of the Stockbrook.

The sound of a splash and crunch of grit wrenched him out of his reverie and he noticed that he had strayed into the shallows of the brook. Wandering or ‘ill-discipline’ as Bregil, commanding would say, often meant he went astray, to the annoyance of his comrades also, and something that time in the field would eliminate.

Back to his senses his training began to restart, young eyes scanning the ground ahead the small but distinguishable signs of animals having visited the brook, a foxes tracks leading away from the water, coney depressions in the soft ground where they had rested the previous day. The morning was a blend of greys and blues, accompanied by the gentle trickling sound and silver glittering of the water. Noting the angle of the sun he quickened his pace leaving in his wake the destruction of a myriad of habitats too small even for his eyes to see.

Leaving the water’s edge to avoid his prints forming in the soft ground that might betray his presence to a visitor in the future his mind fell upon his orders. The course he was taking was a wide and ever winding path inwards till he was on the outskirts of one of the Shire’s largest villages, Stock. His was on a routine patrol of the land directly within the border patrol set by other masters, and one that would require him to enter the village, which was one of four his company were given specific watch.

His orders when he had entered the village were to observe, remaining impassive and inconspicuous. However if needed he might approach the local inhabitants and gently inquire as to the goings on over the past few weeks, a precaution in case even the eagle eyed watch of the company had missed any trespassers.

Having made steady progress for an hour along the brook he noticed that the surrounding vegetation began to clear, and grasses became more prominent amongst the reeds and water loving flowers that thrived within a few metres either side of its banks. It was a few minutes later that he noticed the road, the Causeway it was named, it was one of two main roads that crossed through Stock and came from further north by the Brandywine bridge.

The name sparked off a snippet of its history, something he had picked up on his wanderings. It was said to be an alteration of the Elvish Baránduin which translated meant ‘golden brown river’, and it had become Hobbit custom in previous years to be called Bralda-hîm or ‘heady ale’.

A name which made a slight smile split his lips; he’d thought of a perfect idea, the Golden Perch Inn would be the best place in the area to seek out any knowledge, for it was widely known its ale was the finest in the East farthing. With that pleasant thought in mind his dulled spirits flared and his step quickened slightly, remaining off the road however and amongst the vegetation to provide himself with some cover, of late you could not be overly cautious. However again he was lost in thought and the surroundings became nothingness compared with the thought of good ale.

Tracking the road for a short distance he came to an intersection with the Stock road and the ground which had been rising gently as he neared the village peaked as a small hill by which the Inn was built. It’s large out sign welcoming travellers and promising good company and a warm hearth for the weather was cool enough to warrant more than the average number of layers a man would wear.

On first inspection it was a distended building, with various roofs at different heights, no doubt to accommodate for its varying height of patrons. He had paused just off the road and noticed that some of the inhabitants of the village making their way to and from chores were glancing at him. He’d not wanted to draw a great deal of attention on his entrance, Shire folk were at times quick to frighten and judge visitors with strange behaviour. Again the small smile spread across his features at the image of a group of the more stout Bucklanders running him out of the village.

Lurching forward he put a warming smile on his face and strode toward the Inn entrance. Stooping through the heavy weathered door he was confronted by a large open room, filled with tables and benches, stools and the bustling and babbling of its customers. No eyes turned, no conversations stopped on his entrance, visitors from all over were frequent and not to be concerned over; his nose was immediately assaulted with various smells, of food and strong ale, leather and light smoke from pipes and the large fireplace that dominated the room.

Pausing briefly as if he were fumbling with his cloak clasp he scanned the room.
Large ale casks and the counter to his right with a door behind, the clatter of dishes rose above the chatter, men, elves and of course Hobbits were present. The atmosphere was friendly and folk were shifting seats to converse with others, holding the cloak in his hand he cast it over his shoulder and slowly made his way to the counter, careful to avoid hitting table corners and stools with occupants lest he spill tankards.

Standing at the bar he was pleased that he had appeared as just another traveller though was well aware that his garb may well have attracted glances as he made his way to the counter, he had left his weapons with the company camp but had kept back a small dagger which was at his felt, a common enough implement for a man but still…

Besides it felt good again to be among others, and he breathed deeply, a contented sigh escaping him. Leaning on the counter with his elbow he gave the counter a slight knock.

“Inn keeper?”

One hand went to his money pouch concealed beneath his clothing, and his eyes flicked round the room once more, looking for a likely start of conversation with the local populace.

[Folwren]

“Could I help you?” Izmakiel asked, glancing from Tarathiel to Dick and back again.

Dick took a seat as he answered. “Well, yes, I think so. This ‘ere elf says he’d like to speak with you. He travels a bit, I think, and – and,” his attention wandered suddenly. His eyes had caught someone enter the door and then he heard himself called. He stood up. “And he thought you two might have a bit to talk about. I must beg your gentlemen’s pardons.”

He bowed and turned as quickly as he could without being impolite and hurried across the room. He thread his way through tables and then around the counter, skittering up as fast as he could to the place just opposite the new comer.

“I am the inn keeper, sir!” he said, looking up into the young man’s face. “How can I help you?”

[Mänwe]

Limaris having called the Inn Keeper had let himself be absorbed into the atmosphere of the open room, however he knew that unfortunately his time would not be unlimited and he was to have only two days in Stock before setting out at first light on the third to report back to the company.

It was however likely that he would be sent back to continue on any leads, and indeed on more of the regular patrols closer to civilisation. Yet he had just arrived and the smell of the ‘heady ale’ was thick in his nostrils and intoxicating, he had no qualms over what he was going to order.

He had set his coin pouch on the counter and as he sought likely avenues of conversation with the local inhabitants, he was informed by his superior before he had left, that the weather and family was always a good point to start with. But to be wary of asking too many questions of these types, lest he be judged as a nosy busy body and consequently ignored. For although Hobbits he had been told were a talkative folk there were wary of complete strangers and the regaling of close family tales to them.

On his second glance around the room his eyes fell upon a rather shady character in Ranger garb no less faded by constant exposure to weather and the dirt from the road, though that may just have been the light which appeared to be a little dark, sat at the back of the room at the opposite him about to enter conversation with what may have been a man or elf; he could not deduce which for his back was to him, though it was plain he was tall, a good few inches more than Limaris himself. Which he estimated would put him just over six foot, not uncommon for a man however his inquiring gaze was interrupted by the site of a small figure skittering in his direction.

His gaze now fell upon this figure, a Hobbit, which was clear by his height, and it immediately struck Limaris that he would turn out to be a most affable individual, a revelation of sorts that could only be attributed to his round face framed with brown curly hair and the most sparkling of eyes he’d yet seen which even from this distance were clear.

Here was someone who clearly thrived in the company of others. Sporting a fine embroidered waistcoat, over a cotton shirt he swung round the corner and in behind the counter.

Limaris started, and struggled with keeping his shock from the Hobbit and others in the Inn who may have been watching. He was about to be addressed and he had not thought of a cover story nor a name for himself, annoyed at himself for being easily distracted, he put on half a smile as the round face of what must be the Inn Keeper looked up at him.

“I am the inn keeper, sir!”

He exclaimed with what perhaps may have been a slight puff having sprinted the entire length of the room; however Limaris could not be sure.

“How can I help you?” he continued.

Maintaining eye contact with the Inn Keeper, he quickly thought it best to take the direct and friendly approach without making it obviously false.

“Good day sir! Allow me to commend you on your most athletic approach! I would not ask for your “help” rather your dire assistance in obtaining a tankard of the finest ale in the East farthing for a foot weary traveller.”

Hoping he had taken the right approach and set a correct and believable tone he waited the Keepers response.

[mormegil]

The doors to The Golden Perch Inn slammed open suddenly and noisily, causing a temporary silence among the patrons and for many of them to turn their heads in the way of the disturbance. Kuric Spearhead is who met their gaze, though they couldn’t be sure if he was looking at them as his eyes were shadowed and hidden due to uncommonly deep eye sockets.

Kuric appeared in bad shape, rather drawn and weary though there was an uncertain air of dignity about him. On his fiery red beard there was a noticeable layer of oil and dirt and his hygiene seemed generally overlooked. His boots and pack were also rather soiled and weather worn from the long road that had been traveled; these were in stark contrast to his radiant full coat of mail. It was made by one of the finest dwarven craftsmen of old and appeared as bright and as polished today as on the day it was forged. Those who had a reasonable familiarity with metallurgy instantly could recognize the metal for what it was: pure mithril. It was of the most exquisite handiwork that could be found in Middle-earth, the links were so perfectly woven and fitted that no trace of a rivet or weld mark could be seen. Not merely for its monetary worth did Kuric love his mail; for it had, on more than one occasion, turned aside the blade or an orc or other foul creature, and had given him a sense of near invulnerability. There was another reason for his deep adoration of that mail that was only shared with the most trusted of friends and that he held dear to his heart.

With so many stares made at such an entry, most patrons would be uncomfortable, but not Kuric, he had grown accustomed to such stares on his many travels. With a low guttural grunt he dismissed the onlookers and began his way to a table at the far end of the room. As he made his way among the patrons, conversation in the inn began to steadily increase and not few were the whispers of this strange new dwarf. Over the low hum of the ensuing conversation those near to Kuric could still hear the steady thud made by his determined and strong stride. While he stood rather tall for a dwarf, the physical aspect that was most impressive was his breadth; his chest was nearly as wide as he was tall. His muscles were honed and taught and at a glance it could be determined that he had seen many battles. Scars marked his face and any other part were skin could be seen. He was fully armed with mace and a spiked buckler and they appeared to have been used frequently.

He found a vacant table near the corner and took a seat. Tired as Kuric was, he was determined to taste the famed ale of The Golden Perch Inn prior to retiring, plus a couple of pints always makes one sleep a bit easier after such travails as Kuric had passed lately. Without even looking for who the inn keeper might be he loudly bellowed,

“Three pints of yer finest!”

and began to impatiently tap his left fist on the table.

[Folwren]

“Good day, sir!” said the traveler with a smile. “Allow me to commend you on your most athletic approach!” Dick blinked and then grinned, and continued to listen in silence. “I would not ask your ‘help’ rather your dire assistance in obtaining a tankard of the finest ale in the East farthing for a foot weary traveler.”

“Aye, sir, I can manage that,” he said, his smile becoming even broader at this young gentleman’s speech. He reached beneath the counter and took one of the pint mugs. “You’ll have it right quick!” He turned The ale poured down in a great foaming cascade and rose swiftly. With the tip of his tongue touching his upper lip in concentration, Dick finished it off with the foam just above the rim without spilling a drop.

“There you are!” he said, setting it carefully down on the counter. The young man reached out with a coin in his hand and placed it on the counter before wrapping it about the mug. “Thank you kindly, sir.” He paused and looked up. The man seemed to hesitate slightly. “Have…” Dick paused. The ranger looked at him. “Have you been in the Shire before?”

The young man opened his mouth to reply, but his answer was cut off as the door swung open with a great clatter. Dick’s head jerked up in surprise to see the opening blocked by a particularly tall and broadly set dwarf.

“What!” he said, only half allowed. “Here’s a character…” His eyes narrowed slightly as the dwarf made his slow, very set, very determined progression across the room to the farthest end and there sat down. “I wonder…” What he wondered remained unsaid. He shrugged the idea off and his cleared again. “As I asked-”

“Three pints of your finest!”

Dick’s eyes turned at once to the dwarf who had just entered. He frowned slightly. He was with another customer. But there was Tollers just near him, coming around the counter with his hands occupied with a full tray.

“Ah! Tollers!” Dick said, stepping back away from the counter to meet the young hobbit. “I say, can you get three pints to that new dwarf over there?” He nodded towards the dwarf.

“Oh, him? Yes, I can do that,” Tollers said, nodding. Dick stepped back and returned to the man waiting at the counter.

“Have you been in the Shire before?” he asked, apparently happy to finally get the question out again at last.

[Tevildo]

Tollers threw a sideways grin at Dick and, clutching two mugs in one hand and one in the other, approached the visitor who was sitting by himself at one of the corner tables. The hobbit couldn't help but think what a strange fellow this dwarf seemed to be. Requesting three pints to drink without a stitch of food was a very odd way to begin a morning. Maybe one, or even two, but who would be foolish enough to bolt down three full pints of ale without a good helping of Cook's bacon and eggs? But then, it wasn't only the fellow's odd breakfast request that had gotten Toller's full attention. To come blasting into the Inn dressed in full battle armor was hardly a thing that your average hobbit would do.


Hopefully, the fellow had dropped off his sword or axe in the special spot near the entry door that Dick had designated for everyone to deposit their weapons. Tollers certainly did not want any trouble. Plus, this fellow, with his thumping of fists on the table and raised voice, seemed a bit out of sorts. Still, t wouldn't do to be suspicious of one of the Inn guests without even giving him a chance. Tollers sidled up to the table and set the three pints down in front of the guest. He couldn't resist saying something.

"Ah, good sir, this is Tollers here. I'll be glad to help you with anything you want. Seems like a waste to swallow all that good ale and never have a plate of something from the kitchen. We have good rashers of bacon and ale, or a stout piece of bread with cheese. You wouldn't happen to fancy one of those?"

For a moment, the Dwarf said nothing but looked Tollers up and down as if deciding how to reply. It was then that Tollers remembered the coin in his pocket that he had found the day before. The one dwarf had told him it might be a dwarf coin. He fingered the precious gold and reflected. Armor or not, he had better start a conversation with this fellow if he wanted to try and find out more about the coin. He couldn't just pop it in the fellow's face and demand an answer out of nowhere.

Taking one step back, Tollers nodded at the Dwarf and continued talking, "That's alright. Take your time deciding if you want something from the kitchen. It's rather slow at the moment and I'm in no rush. You look to be from outside these parts. Seems from the look of you that you've been on the road for a while. Perhaps you'd like to stay a day or so in these parts and rest. We have rooms for the big folk with plenty of hot water and soap in case you'd prefer something larger than the usual hobbit chamber. Or perhaps you're coming to our fair town for longer than that? Dick gives good rates for those who decide to stay a week or more. I'll be happy to point out some of the sights you might want to take in. And, oh yes...." Tollers grinned broadly. "Don't know if you like to fish but these parts have the best fishing in all of the Shire. Take it from someone who knows."

Tollers glanced over at the dwarf hoping that he would manage to get him talking.

[mormegil]

Having just requested his ale, Kuric lowered his head to await the service. After a few moments Kuric began looking around at other patrons. He noticed many hobbits and some men, and then he spied an elf and spat in disgust. “Elves” he grunted and looked away. He glanced back to that bar and was pleasantly surprised to see how quickly that his ale had been served. He saw a young hobbit ambling his way with three pints. The sight of a tiny figure balancing three pints was rather comical and a slight but inaudible chuckle escaped Kuric’s mouth.

The sight of hobbits always caused mixed thoughts in Kuric’s head. Being from the Lonely Mountain, he had met Bilbo once and knew many of his stories and thought very highly of him. He also knew Bilbo to be an anomaly among hobbits and he found hobbits in general as rather dull and uninteresting due to their lack of daring. Other than Bilbo, he found most conversations he had with hobbits as rather mundane, they preferring to speak about rather banal topics such as the weather. Give me a dwarf or adventurous man any day, mused Kuric. Despite them being rather dull conversationalist he found it difficult not to like hobbits, in part because of their diminutive size and their seemingly perpetual cheeriness. Besides, if Bilbo went on adventures maybe others might. Kuric decided to keep his mind open to that prospect, despite his doubts.

The hobbit that approached him was noticeably portly, even for hobbit standards, and looked softer than most. As soon as the hobbit had arrived he immediately began chattering away about breakfast and what Kuric might want to eat. Kuric chuckled inside because he could sense and see the unease of this hobbit at seeing a mighty dwarf fully clad in battle armor. He was rather accustomed to such responses. He managed to catch the name of the hobbit to be Tollers. Odd name Kuric thought as he sized him up, looking him up and down.

About to respond, Kuric was interrupted by a nervous Tollers rambling on about staying at the inn and fishing. Just like I thought, boring topics from a boring race, I wonder if he’ll ever let me answer or he’ll continue to chat all day without ever listening for a response, Kuric let his thoughts wonder. I doubt adventure will be found here, still the ale promises to be good and that’s not all bad .

“Tollers, that’s a rather strange name don’t you think,” Kuric stated rather matter-of-factly.” “Well Tollers, the pints might go down a bit better with a bit of food, why don’t you go get me a bit of everything ye’ve got”, instructed Kuric. “As for fishing, unless I need the food on the road I don’t fish, far too boring!” Before even waiting for any response Kuric loudly asked, “What’s the best room ye’ve got? It’s been far too long since I’ve slept in a proper bed so I’m looking for the best,” Kuric asked and began immediately to gulp down the ale.

[Tevildo]

The hobbit glanced over quickly at Kuric and was about to snap back a curt reply but immediately clamped down on his tongue. On the outside, Toller's face was wreathed in a welcoming smile; inside, he was seething.

Just who did this fellow think he was? There was absolutely nothing wrong with the name Tolman Burrows around these parts. Tollers had worked in Inns long enough to have heard a hundred different names belonging to Elves and Dwarves that sounded rather outlandish to his own ear, but he had always possessed the decent manners and good sense not to push his private observations back onto the guests. Was this fellow so dim witted that he couldn't see five feet beyond his own front door and understand that folks came in all different sizes and shapes and that the names they bore were correspondingly diverse.

Moreover, anyone who thought that fishing was "boring" had a thing or two to learn. Tollers highly doubted whether this dwarf had ever waded out into a fast moving stream at the break of dawn and tried to outwit a thirty-pound salmon as the creature fought his way upstream.

Although a naturally affable fellow, Tollers could be clever and quick with his tongue. In normal circumstances, the hobbit would have cheerfully tried to convince the dwarf of the error of his ways. However, there was something in the visitor's face that went far beyond the words he'd used. Tollers had a sinking feeling that any kind of reply would be lost on the guest since he hadn't even responded to his polite offer to point out the best sights in the area. As much as Tollers wanted to find out about the coin he and Jack had dug out of the river, he was not about to lower himself to that level. If the dwarf thought he was a dim-witted, doltish farmboy, then that's exactly how Tollers would act.

"Ah, yes, sir, I'll get that plate right away, and a key to the very best room in the Inn. Whatever you say." Tollers scurried away and wandered over to where Dick was standing. He whispered a few words in his ear and then walked back over to the bar, grabbed a plate of food, and a large key that sat on the upper shelf. Then he hurried back to the dwarf's table. "I hope this will do. And here's a key to that room. The very largest room in the Inn and also the most luxurious. That will be one shilling."

Tollers held out his hand and stared meekly downward, occupying his time by counting the floorboards. What the hobbit did not tell his guest was that the large and luxurious room in question was situated next to the chamber that was currenlty occupied by Goodwife Thedgethistle who was staying with her eight children aged three months to twelve years. They were a very loud and mischievous bunch, up at all hours of the day and night, and given to all kinds of practical jokes. And despite the impressive array of battle armor worn by the Dwarf, Tollers would have put his money on the children as to who would survive a night in the Inn and emerge unscathed in the morning.....

[mormegil]

Kuric took a long draught of the drink and slammed the empty pint down one the table. With foam stubbornly clinging to his beard Kuric declared rather loudly, “This is mighty fine ale, I must say. I’m likely to send others this way if they are near to taste such fine beer as this.”

Kuric quickly began rummaging through his coin purse and acquired the necessary coins to pay for the room, food and ale. He had considered giving a bit more for the prompt service but then thought better of it, and bluntly stated “Ye haven’t even asked me name yet.” Without waiting for Tollers to query about his name, Kuric started excitedly, “It’s Kuric Spearhead from The Lonely Mountain, and I know of a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins from around these parts. Ye’ve likely heard of him, of course? Because I’d like to send word that I’m here. I haven’t been to Erebor in a number of years. I’m sure the good hobbit wouldn’t mind discussing old times with me. If ye would send word, or at least find somebody to send word to him that I’m in the area and may drop by for a visit, I’d pay ye and your messenger well for the favor. So what do ye say, Tollers, can ye help me out or not?”

[Mänwe]

Limaris inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at the broadening smile that broke the features of the Inn Keeper, it appeared that his response had not seemed flustered and rushed, and the tone he had set was correct. Although the smile was slightly worrying in that it may actually have been a smile of inward amusement at the oddness of his speech. He would be hard pressed to maintain the rather jovial character he had unwittingly created.

However on further reflection it may have given him an advantage, his jocular response he hoped would present him as a fellow who was easy to confide in; consequently more likely to glean the information that he needed to complete his mission successfully.

His mind continued to muse over the character that he would play, when he felt a slight numbing feeling in his right arm which he was using to support himself against the bar. Wincing slightly as he stepped back and straightened it he noticed that he had been bent almost double to accommodate his height at the bar, and the Hobbit seemed to shrink even further as he bent down behind the counter presumably to pick a tankard.

It occurred to him that he had probably presented himself a rather comical figure bent right over on the bar, perhaps another reason for the broad smile on the features of the Hobbit before he had dipped below the counter. The beginning of his day was not entirely going to plan; it was a miracle that the Inn Keeper had not stared at him blankly and in bemusement at his strange dialogue.

Pausing he breathed deeply, he was worrying unduly. Calming himself he flexed his arm returning the circulation to his finger tips, and studied the supreme efforts of the Hobbit as he attended to the drawing of his pint. Face screwed in concentration, tongue working his upper lip as he watched the golden rich ale fall into the maw of the tankard.

It was now Limaris’s turn to be amused, and he managed to hide his smile by turning it into a grimace as he flexed his arm causing a warm and stinging sensation. Had the Hobbit not poured many pints? Or was this face on of pure pride and professionalism? Well it was a perfect avenue for continual conversation with the Inn Keeper, who was in his mind the best person to talk to over matters concerning the village of Stock.

For the Golden Perch was a busy place and many a traveller would pass through, and he would have either seen, heard or dealt with all of them. The Hobbit carefully lifted the tankard onto the counter, the foam head of the ale shifting slightly on its liquid bed.

“There you are!” he exclaimed.

Clearly proud at not having spilt a drop, and thus answering his question, pure pride and professionalism.

His hand dipped quickly into his money pouch and deposited the single coin on the counter returning his pouch quickly to the inner folds of his clothing, and gripping the tankard firmly with his free hand. The look on the Keeper’s face told Limaris that he was about to ask a question, so having bent over again at the counter, arranging himself in a less comical and awkward fashion he paused.

His heart raced a little as the Hobbit inquired whether he had been in the Shire before and again his young mind raced with the possibilities of asking such a question. Perhaps his tone had sounded too “shire-like” revealing an extended period of time staying in and around Shire-folk.

Perhaps a patron arriving earlier to the Inn had spotted him on his way in and mentioned it as idle gossip. Dispelling the answers with decisions, he was a traveller of forty years, his ‘occupation’ fitted with his earlier dialogue with the Inn keeper, and he just hoped that he looked older than he actually was, the words he had used were more likely to be used by an older person than the youth of today.

However before he was about to give his reply a large clatter resounded through the room and cut some of the conversation in the Inn immediately as if they had been suddenly made mute, only the darkest and furthest recesses of the Inn Common Room remained in conversation, either having not noticed or not caring. Limaris made a quick observation that it was mainly inhabited by men, less likely to be startled so obviously than the Hobbits who seemed to have flocculate in the middle of the Inn.

It was a Dwarf whom looked extremely worn apart from a shining mail coat. The site of the mail made him raise an eyebrow, it was mithril, obvious for its gleaming appearance no torn rents which were filled with new rings and were consequently not as dark and worn looking as the others around it. And because the Dwarf did not seem restricted at all as he strode across the room, predictably making his way to the rear of the Inn.

Shouting his order to the entire Inn he settled at a table in a loud thud. The frown on the Hobbits face opposite him revealed that he was slightly annoyed at such an entrance, perhaps more to do with the fact that he was entirely clad in armour and hefting a sizeable weapon. Then again Limaris did not blame him, and Inn was a place of peace. It would probably help his standing and the makeup of his character if he too appeared to be disconcerted by the new comer.

Limaris could tell that the interaction with the Shire folk with the character he had landed himself with would test him still he silently thought it would certainly be interesting and no less exciting. However he readied himself to reply as the Inn Keeper having delegated the serving of the Dwarves order to a rather unfortunate Hobbit by the name of Tollers finished his intended question.

Considering he was playing a traveller, it was probably wise to say that he had heard of the Shire, but had travelled more extensively in the eastern regions of the world and had not ventured far into the west, and so was his reason for being here today; he was on a trip of enlightenment.

“No good sir, I have not had the fortune of visiting the Shire before, it seems all these years I have been missing out on a wonderful part of the world. However it is not the first time I have met your fine folk. Indeed I met a small group of Hobbits in Bree.”

Not wanting to reveal too much of his story immediately he stopped to take a draught of his ale, slamming the tankard down he continued before the Hobbit could respond but not too fast as to suggest that he was preventing him from speaking.

“Ah, now that was worth the long route I took! And even more worth it seeing customers of all sorts you get here! A rather ‘queer’ entrance from that dwarf.” He added lowering his voice.

He had leaned in toward the Hobbit and grinned; still aware that his appearance may not suggest a weary traveller at all, although in his favour was the rather ragged appearance of his beard, a consequence of being in the field for an extended period. Taking another swig from his ale, he looked intently at the Hobbit and continued, his response coming fluidly and in succession, a perfect and plausible show of an interested and overtly talkative traveller, at least Limaris though travellers were very talkative.

“But heights above, I’ve not introduced myself, please attribute my temporary lack of manners to the dust road! I am Tehol. I would be most gratified to know your name sir and the history of this fine establishment if you would take the time to tell all, I have been to a fair few Inn’s but none as homely as The Golden Perch.

A fine name for sure!”

He exclaimed finally.

[Forest Elf]

Gable stood and brushed the hay off of herself before shaking her head at a silly thought. She stood and looked at the injured pony, who was resting in his stall. “Who were you from, girl?” she whispered to the sleeping pony.

Gable stood and walked quietly into the Inn. She saw Tollers talking with a dwarf, and decided that thanking him could wait until later on. But, then again, it seemed as if he wasn’t looking himself.

[Tevildo]

Tollers fidgeted nervously as he heard Kuric inquire about the whereabouts of Bilbo Baggins and stated that he knew the hobbit. Tollers almost felt guilty for what he had done about Kuric's rooming arrangements.

The Shire was a tight knit place. Letters and gossip routinely floated back and forth with the help of the mail carriers of the Shire Post. Most hobbits had already heard of Bilbo's adventure, which had taken place some sixteen years before. Moreover, Tollers was a great admirer of Bilbo. Sometimes he dreamed of setting out on his own and having an adventure just as grand. But it wasn't as easy as that. Bilbo was a leisured gentleman and well-to-day burrow holder, while Tollers was only the younger son of a modest farmer who eeked out a decent living working dawn to dusk.

Despite an encroaching feeling of guilt for sending a friend of Bilbo's into a tricky situation, he really couldn't back out at this point. Plus, how did he know Kuric was telling the whole truth? Perhaps the dwarf was visiting the Shire to collect a debt or had somehow overheard Bilbo's name and was just using it to gain his confidence? Still, that slight sense of guilt remained, and he decided to answer Kuric truthfully about Bilbo, even if the dwarf was unlikely to get any sleep that night.

"Well, my friend Kuric. Glad you know of Bilbo. He has quite a reputation around these parts. Some folk think he is a bit.....er....unusual. But others, and I'm in this group myself, are quite taken with his stories, especially about treasure. I am afraid you are some miles away from Bag-end, since it lies in Hobbiton in the middle of the Shire. Indeed, 'tis not far from the old Green Dragon. Of course, I could tell you how to get there, or you might send a letter with the Shire post to see if Bilbo would welcome your visit. Or perhaps you could persuade Master Bilbo to pay a visit here? That would be nicest of all. So let me know if you need directions or would like to send a note out to Bilbo with the post...."

[Folwren]

Dick had not yet stopped scratching his head about the dwarf’s excitable entrance when he gave the man at the counter his question. He listened in silence to the traveler’s response with all his attention, but half of his mind was thinking about what it would be like having a guest like the dwarf...he wondered what sort of character he was, if he was rough, if they would have trouble with him, or if he would make trouble, or what…the questions went on, but he tried not to let any show on his face.

“No good sir, I have not had the fortune of visiting the Shire before, it seems all these years I have been missing out on a wonderful part of the world. However it is not the first time I have met your fine folk. Indeed I met a small group of Hobbits in Bree.”

Dick smiled again. For now, at least, he could settle his mind on this pleasant fellow. Tollers would take care of the dwarf, at least for the time being. Having taken a drink of his ale, the young man went on.

“Ah, now that was worth the long route I took! And even more worth it seeing customers of all sorts you get here! A rather ‘queer’ entrance from that dwarf.”

No joke, said Dick to himself. He sent a swift glance towards the said dwarf and nodded his head sagely. Tollers was walking back towards him, now, from delivering the dwarf his two pints and probably after taking an order for breakfast.

“But heights above, I’ve not introduced myself, please attribute my temporary lack of manners to the dust road! I am Tehol. I would be most gratified to know your name sir and the history of this fine establishment if you would take the time to tell all, I have been to a fair few Inn’s but none as homely as The Golden Perch. A fine name for sure!”

“Aye, the Perch is an excellent place,” said Dick with pride, his face lighting up again. He could not decide whether to be worried over the dwarf, or to be pleased to have such a friendly customer as this. “We do our best anyway,” he said after a short pause. He didn’t want to brag too much. Before he could go on, he felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned his head half way to see Tollers, leaning towards him in the fashion that people do when they have something they wish to impart in your ears. Dick leaned his head towards Tollers and the young hobbit whispered in his ear,

“I’m giving the dwarf over yonder the room at the far end of the passage. The large one, with two windows overlooking the street.”

Dick nodded and Tollers scurried off. The innkeeper turned towards Tehol again and opened his mouth to speak. But then a thought checked him and his words stopped in his throat. The large room at the far end of the passage? With two windows looking out over the street? By all means, that was probably the finest, underground room they had, and the dwarf would like it, but. . .but there was one objection. One very large objection. . .he could deal with that later, he had something else on his hands for now.

“I’ve hardly introduced myself properly,” he said, focusing on Tehol. “Besides telling you I was the innkeeper, I told you nothing else. I am Seredic Boffin, but everyone just calls me Dick. I’m not really from around these parts,” he went on. “I’d be very happy to tell you about the Perch and how she came about, but, my dear sir, you must be most uncomfortable, bent half over like that. Let’s go find a seat,” he said, with a glance around him to see that nothing needed immediate tending to, “and when we’re both more comfortable, I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

Dick liked a good chat when he could get one. He pointed Tehol over to an empty table and excused himself quickly so that he could fetch his pipe from the kitchen. It was mid morning by now and none too early for a short smoke and a stool to prop his feet up on. In five minutes he was settled in deep in his chair, one arm over the back, his feet on the chair underneath the table, a pipe in his hand, and the traveler opposite him with his ale mug in his hand.

“Now, if you get bored or want to hear something else, or want more to eat or drink, just interrupt me and we’ll make you comfortable,” said Dick, and began to tell him what he knew about the place. He told him about the Goodbody family, how he had met them and married the old innkeeper’s daughter. He talked about the many sorts of people who came in and out. He talked a great deal about their famous beer, how it was known all throughout Eastfarthing. “We have people come from miles about just to taste some of this!” he told him, quite in earnest, too. And in all this time, Tehol never interrupted him.

[Mänwe]

Limaris’s answer to Inn Keepers question was little more than a nugget of the thoughts he felt for the area. It was with mixed emotions that he had been bought to the borders of Buckland; being many leagues from his mother who this month would be aged at seventy years was the main angst. As a child he had enjoyed the freedom and did not care for when he spent long periods away from home.

However as he saw more winters his ideas matured, he began to realise that his parents, more so his mother now that his father had died would become reliant on him for support. There were only so many years one could work full time, and a tanner’s occupation was not for the faint hearted; the early mornings and physical aspect of the job that needed to be carried right though the day took its toll.

He remembered, during his short stay at home before travelling to the White City to join the Rangers, that his mother would come home and collapse into the chair in the kitchen. He had got used to starting the fire in the kitchen and carrying the water from the well and performing other small mundane tasks that were essential for a meal to be cooked and the house to remain clean.

His mother he knew was just too tired to do them. Her advancing years would not help the matter, and Limaris felt slightly guilty at pursuing his own ‘career’ over that of his mothers wellbeing, despite her assurances that she would cope and that it was her wish for him to leave for Minas Tirith and make something of his life.

And so at the end of every nostalgic look back into the recent past, his mind would fall upon his promise that he would return to her. Though entering into the Rangers now made the promise seem unlikely, any leave was short and far between, a reflection on the state of the world and his commanding officers concerns. Coming north and west had also bought him into contact with the ‘true’ Rangers as he called them, those who had descended from the Dúnedain.

Tall, taller than himself and despite their often ragged appearance, their cloths worn and faded by their constant work in the field, their features were ever noble, and it seemed to Limaris that no hardship could better them, though no-one spoke of their history, in parts their sad history he was sure if someone did they would bear the sad past without so much as a glimmer of regret.

However they were few and there was a majority of the Ranger force made up from soldiers from the White City and its surrounding territories. Limaris was among giants, for the commanding officer is of the Dúnedain race.

It had become a secret practice among the ‘men’ of the Rangers to try and find who among them were of the ancient lineage. He had heard rumours of only three; they were hard to spot despite their apparent noble appearance, for their mind and bodies were that of a man in his early thirties but their years numbered closer to eighty.

So it was evident to him that it would be some time yet before he was able to visit his mother again, he had considered simply leaving, but a man who abandoned his duty invited fate worse than death upon himself, so he had resigned himself to the wait of being given leave.

A thought that was threatening to ruin his intended mission here in Stock, for again he had slipped into a slight trance like state. He would have to maintain character if he did not want the Hobbit to suspect that he was someone other than who he said he was.

Focusing on the Inn Keepers face, he noticed his mouth moving, he had missed what the Hobbit had begun to say,

“We do our best anyway,”

Limaris forced a smile onto his face to break the all to serious and out of character look he had, it was at that exact moment that the Inn Keeper was distracted by another Hobbit tugging at his sleeve, thankful for the interruption he cleared his mind of any thought bar the here and now.

Once again he was the cheerful Tehol. A choice of name that was all too real to Limaris, for it was his father’s name, a name given to him by his father Liramis as he was affectionately known. A good earthy sounding name as were all the names throughout the Arahad family. Though his real name was….


“I’ve hardly introduced myself properly,”

The warm sound of the Inn Keepers voice bought him back to the conversation. The Hobbit that had been next to him had pattered off to the far end of the counter to collect a plate of food and what looked like a key from behind the counter off a rack.

“I am Seredic Boffin, but everyone just calls me Dick. I’m not really from around these parts,”

Hearing that last sentence he realised he now had another avenue of conversation that he might pursue, for Hobbits were known to be close knit especially within families, so no doubt Seredic had retained interest in his home area; consequently he probably had news of the place, news that would flesh out his report when he returned to the company.

“…but, my dear sir, you must be most uncomfortable, bent half over like that. Let’s go find a seat,”

Limaris had hoped he would have noticed, but wanted to appear too polite to say anything, and following Seredic’s hand, he was pointing to an empty table, hard to believe given the Inn was filled to the brim, like a good tankard of ale. Seated comfortably he hid the sharp jab of fire that ran up his right arm as the blood was allowed proper circulation now that he was not leaning on it, and listened to the Hobbit as he regaled him with tales of the Inn’s beginning and his own family.

The Goodbody family seemed to Limaris a solid and dependable one. No great adventurers here, but a family respected and who were keen to promote themselves, though perhaps that was more on Seredic’s side as it was clear he was most proud of the Golden Perch, evident due to the verve with which he spoke about the place.

“We have people come from miles about just to taste some of this!”

At these words, Limaris jumped at the invitation,

“Remarkable indeed! I as a traveller have met many a strange person on the road, but this place as you say attracts many folk from all around, surely you must get some very ‘queer’ ones from time to time?”

Well, he thought, who said the most direct approach was a bad one?

[mormegil]

“…But others, and I'm in this group myself, are quite taken with his stories, especially about treasure…”

Hearing the excited tones with which the hobbit spoke of Bilbo and treasure set Kuric at ease and warmed his feelings to his diminutive companion. Slouching a bit in his chair, Kuric crossed his right leg over his left and let Tollers finish speaking, There may be some hope for this one yet Kuric thought and couldn’t help but crack the faintest of a smile while putting down his mug from his latest drink. Kuric’s expression became pensive and appeared somewhat pained. He slowly raised his left hand and began methodically scratching his forehead causing it to exaggerate its naturally large furrow.

He had been on many adventures and had gathered much treasure in his relatively short life. It had always been his passion, despite efforts of his clan to be a bit more clannish; Kuric relished in the open road and setting off in search of treasure. While using treasure hunting as his excuse for adventure actually finding treasure was a perk at the end and not a requirement, as he already had a vast amount of wealth. No, for Kuric it was simply the adventure that mattered and while he felt at home in the mines of his people he never felt settled, only on the road was his heart ever at peace.

He had met many men and dwarves and occasionally had traveled with elves but never had he traveled with a hobbit; though he had heard a bit about them during his travels so he knew enough of them to know that this was unusual behavior in most hobbits.. The only hobbit he had ever heard of going on any sort of adventure was Bilbo. To see a hobbit speaking excitedly about treasure and adventure made him reconsider his view on hobbits. I wonder, are many hobbits like this or is this another rarity, another diamond in the rough just like Bilbo? Either way it was too early to tell but perhaps he would enjoy his conversation with this hobbit after all, an early rest might wait if he could just keep his eyes open. After such a long road Kuric initially had hoped to enter the tavern, eat and drink a bit, not engage in any conversation and simply go to bed. Tollers had made him reconsider this; he now hoped to have the stamina to give a tale or two of adventure to Tollers in hope of kindling an even greater love of adventure in the young Hobbit.

Leaning forward, Kuric animatedly stated, “Ye like treasure do ye? Well then, I may have a few tales that’ll be of interest. Of course, treasure’s a bit of a passion of mine so to speak, being a dwarf and all and what’s more treasure leads ye on adventure and somebody’s not truly alive unless he’s living.”

Letting his emotions get the better of him Kuric stood and with a firm pat on Toller’s back, Kuric proclaimed, “Tollers, you’re all right. I must say I was only coming here to get some beer and rest I never expected to meet a hobbit that would be akin to dear Bilbo in spirit. Why all that I know in Erebor speak very kindly of Bilbo and from all accounts I’ve heard hobbits don’t care much for adventure and it seems that mostly it’s true by yer own word, but you might be a bit different lad. Let’s send word to Bilbo perhaps I may pay him a proper visit soon after a little bit of a rest or perhaps he can come give us a visit if he has the time. Now tell me good hobbit, what do you know of adventure, are there any to be had in yer land here?”

[Tevildo]

Tollers listened carefully to what Kuric was saying while putting his hands behind his back and nervously twiddling his fingers. He was beginning to feel guilty for the trick he had played on the Dwarf by assigning him a room next to a passel of noisey and mischievous young hobbits. After hearing Kuric speak, he could almost like the fellow. He wanted to come up with a good idea for an adventure to make up for the lack of sleep that the poor Dwarf would surely suffer later that night.

"I think your idea of writing Bilbo is a good one. The Shire Post goes out every day, and you could buy a stamp and give the letter to the postman. Perhaps you could even try and persuade your friend to make a visit here. I've heard he spends some time in Bree every year, and it wouldn't be hard for him to stop at the Perch on his journey east. I'm sure Bilbo would have some grand ideas for an adventure, better than any I could come up with. You know....perhaps I could speak with Master Dick and see if he'd be willing to offer Bilbo a free room for a night or two in exchange for some of those stories he would tell us. But I wouldn't do that unless you gave me the word."

"Now, as to the other.....chasing an adventure down before Bilbo gets here, I am no expert on that. But this place has been livelier than usual. Yesterday, we had a wolf show up in the courtyard and a few of us managed to evict him from the premises. Perhaps there's a band of wolves around and we could track them down? But I'm afraid I don't know too much about wolves or their ways."

"Now trees and things that grow....that is another matter. I grew up on a farm and have plenty of experience with growing things. I don't know if you've heard about this but Stock is right next door to Buckland. It's just a stone's throw away over the bridge, and the folk around here pay homage to the thain. It's folk from the East Farthing that founded Buckland years ago, and we're mighty proud of that. But just east of Buckland stands the Old Forest....."

Tollers glanced around and lowered his voice to a whisper, as if he was afraid a bad spirit might overhear and come over and knock him on the head. "You see, Master Dwarf, there's some mighty strange doings in those parts. Some folks say the trees walk and talk when they have a mind to. Some of the old stories say that, years ago, those trees waged war against the Bucklanders and threatened to swallow up all the farmers. All the folk there as well as those of us from East Farthing got together and put the bad 'uns down and then built a big hedge to keep them out for good."

With a sigh, Tollers shook his head, "If you want an adventure close by, that might be the place to look. I've heard a pack of strange tales about the Old Forest, and you could find anything there.....that is, if you're brave enough to go looking for it. Only one word of warning..... You Dwarves are often partial to axes. But if you hope to come out alive, you might want to leave the axe behind or keep it covered in a satchel so that none of the trees will see it. Folks say bad things happen to those who wander into the forest bearing an axe in broad daylight. Even a brave adventurer like yourself might want to think hard about that."

"As to hearing the stories you have, I'd be so happy to do so....perhaps later today when folks gather for lunch or dinner? I'm sure that there are a considerable number of hobbits and other guests who would be happy to listen to your tales. Even folk who are stay-at-homes, and we have plenty of those, like to hear a good yarn while warming their toes beside the fire."

"If you'd like then, I can get you a map of the area that will show you exactly where the Old Forest is. You know, I wonder...." Tollers eyes gleemed with hope. "Do you think Master Bilbo would ever think of coming here and going with us....er, I mean with you....on an adventure in the Old Forest?"

[Folwren]

“Sure you must get some very ‘queer’ ones from time to time?”

“Oh, we do, we do,” Dick said, nodding his head sagely. He sat up and leaned confidentially across the table. “We don’t usually have that much, see,” he said. “Not very many outsiders wander into the Perch all that often, but sommit seemed to have happened to whatever fairies were keeping ‘em all out of the Shire. Just yesterday, when I took over the good old inn, a whole flood of these sorts came in.” Dick sat back again, stopping abruptly. “Not that your so common yourself,” he said, “but still,” sitting forward again, “there’ve been worse.”

“Like that dwarf over there,” he jerked his head towards Kuric before he moved his eyes towards him. Whatever words were forming on his tongue stopped before they’d rolled off it. His eyes fixed themselves on Tollers and the strange dwarf. They were locked in what appeared to be an interesting conversation, if anything could be told from the rate that Tollers was talking. “He seems like an interesting fellow,” Dick continued slowly after a long pause. “And he’s evidently got Tollers quite enthralled. Oh well,” he shrugged and looked back.

“You must meet a great deal of people yourself on the road, you don’t need me telling you about them.”

[Mithalwen]

Cir had decided to wait for his sister to stir before getting breakfast. After the hearty of the night before even he was not yet really hungry. He smiled at the the sight of his elder sister once more deep in the paths of elvish dreams. She was never at her best in the first thing whereas he liked the cool brightness of morning and would catch up with rest later if necessary.

Even the excitement of the wolf attack was not sufficient to rouse her today and he wondered if she had drunk more freely of the hobbits ale than he ... even if she hadn't it would be something to tease her with later he thought wryly. Given that they had so few possessions with them it took little time for him to be ready. He did not call for hot water but paused in the yard and washed any remaining sleep from his head under the pump. The body of the great wolf that lay there still was more sobering even than the cold water.

He knew his father would say that wolves were the wildest of all wild creatures and servants of Morgoth, but there was something about the slain beast which disturbed him. What had driven the pack to attack the inn,so dangerous and unnecessary when it was spring and easier pickings could be found in the relative safety of the woods further from habitation. There were wolves and worse in the Misty Mountains he knew but he had never heard of any attacking settlements. Rivendell was perhaps safe but would the dwellings of the dunedain in the Angle? He had not heard of a wolf attack there - but then, he thought ruefully, he was always being told he didn't listen.

Cir had not determined the path his feet had taken but they had carried him away from the village and into the woodland and with a start he realised that he had been tracing tracks the wolves had made on their way to the village. He had never thought of himself as much of a tracker and was generally content to leave suce things to those who seemed to enjoy them and was suprised that he had been able follow relatively subtle signs without trying. ... maybe it was just chance that had brought him to this place where paw prints were clearer in a patch of soft earth. More to test his skill than anything he followed the trail until he made a discovery that placed him on the horns of a dilemma. And though he resented at times not being allowed to make his own decisions, he knew he had to consult his twin and ran back to the Golden Perch as if the hounds of Sauron were after him.

"Guess what I've found" he demanded, bursting into their room without ceremony and getting a less than warm response from his sister.

"A silmaril? " she asked sarcastically before covering her head with a pillow to block out her brother and the light.

"No wolves!" he replied excitedly.

"You woke me to tell me THAT?", Cir was struck on the head by the pillow thrown with some force, "I know there were wolves - and they came to the Inn, you hardly found them ...go away and leave me to sleep..."


Mor words tumbled form the boy's mouth:
"Not those wolves ... wolf cubs .. in a sort of den in the woods ... I think they may have belonged to the ones the hobbits killed or chased off ..they were all alone and looked ... well hungry and not very strong. I didn't want to leave them .. but I know what Ada would say about interfering . and I thought the mother might come back ... So what shall we do?" Cir crouched close by his sister's bed, his face now about a foot away from hers, was expectant.

[Mänwe]

‘Heady ale’, the rough translation of the old name for the Brandywine, was an apt description for the ale he had been consuming, the pewter tankard from which he was drinking was almost empty, taller than it was broad allowed the drinker to take long draughts, flavours were more readily tasted that way than if the ale was being drunk from a smaller vessel. Not just that, but the pungent fumes given off by the yeast and hops also helped to enthuse the drinkers mind, also enhancing the taste.

It was well known that you tasted also with your nose. It was all these factors combined that had caused himself to feel slightly light headed, not one for ale often, coupled with its outlawing when in the field had meant he had gone some months without a drop passing his lips; liver and brain were not used to its effects, and the slight adrenaline he was running on was not helping.

He was glad it had not affected his speech, slurring words on the first tankard would not bode well, and the seasoned traveller he had posed himself as, would also have to act as a veteran drinker. Whether he would fare any better in stability he would find out soon, collapsing would have an even more detrimental affect to his mission success. The thought of explaining himself to his commanding officer that he had not gained an awful lot of information of worth because he had collapsed in a stupor would no doubt cost him his career and derision for the rest of division. Although most debriefings took place in secrecy somehow details of the meetings always found their way to the rest of the ranks.

Thoughts that only served to sober him, and he continued to stare at the Inn Keeper as he spoke. Seredic leaned in, as if he were going to impart something of great importance that should be for his ears only, and again Limaris worried if his “disguise” had been seen through; and as the Hobbit spoke he fought the tide of apprehension and a slight fear that had taken a loose grip on him as the words left the Hobbit’s mouth.

“Not very many outsiders wander into the Perch all that often, but sommit seemed to have happened to whatever fairies were keeping ‘em all out of the Shire. Just yesterday, when I took over the good old inn, a whole flood of these sorts came in.”

The words resounded within his head, and he immediately began going over the implications and repercussions the words the Hobbit had just uttered. If indeed they were a true expression of fear that he felt than it would have a serious effect upon the distribution of forces within the North. They had only a tenuous hold of its territories and their forces were stretched thin. He wondered if any of the combat troops from the White City would be drafted in, however that seemed unlikely, not only was the White City in its own turmoil with a Steward who had been increasingly spending time alone, but should words of trouble in the north reach his ears then the secrecy regarding the mobilisation of forces around the was likely to be revealed.

No, the troubles would be reported only to the commanding officers of the Rangers, who even kept such things out of the common knowledge of even the council in the White City. Still he wondered if the guard upon the Shire increase. It would mean less leave, perhaps even a restriction to leave altogether. For a fleeting moment he considered leaving out these words from his report. Chiding himself harshly he knew that was not the course to follow. The safety of the North was deemed grave enough to have committed such a large force there.

For although only the officers knew their companies missions, and even then they only knew their own, and only brief notes on other companies, there was a well accepted rumour throughout the entire division that there was something of grave importance in the North, worryingly, something that might aid the growing shadow should it be discovered.

While the rank and file objected to being left in the dark, it was obvious that it were for the best, the less you knew at times the better. Limaris wondered if the Hobbit realised the implications of his own words, a small smile crept over his face at the thought…This Hobbit may just have caused the total reorganisation and mobilisation of the forces in the north, perhaps even the increase in military numbers.

For the words eluded to breaches in the defence, and while orcs and wolves would stand out should they be bold enough to approach habituated areas, they may well have slipped though the Rangers nets and be lying hidden in dead ground, indeed any spies of the shadow for they were many could have slipped past preparing unseen havoc.

He immediately had another line of questioning for the Hobbit. However they would have to wait,

“Not that your so common yourself,”

A smile spread across his features, it was best he though to take a blasé attitude toward the comment. Further comments came about the dwarf, curious he was, and Seredic’s comments on his enthralling the other Hobbit were promising also. An enthralled Hobbit could mean a number of things, but usually because of a good tale told or interesting gossip.

The dwarf would at some point have to be approached and questioned carefully. Thoughts drifting back to the effects of the ale on himself he knew that it was perfect for loosening tongues, still it would be expensive to loosen that dwarf’s tongue, and he’d drunk three tankards already. Limaris just hoped that the travel had weakened his resistance to its affects somewhat.

“You must meet a great deal of people yourself on the road, you don’t need me telling you about them.”

The Hobbit was not giving an awful lot away, and was asking probing questions himself, Limaris knew he would have to begin taking more risks. It was evident that the Inn Keeper would immediately be more curious about the identity of his customer, he was sharp, not dull witted.

Limaris answered,

“Aye, that I do young sir! It is a travellers curse you might say.” He paused finishing the ale.

“Or gift, to meet folk on the road. Though I can tell you I’ve met a number of folk who better fit with the curse bit.” Chuckling softly, and hoping it was a convincing laugh, he continued,

“Still I know for a fact, and first hand now, that Hobbits are a welcoming people, so I assume that more queer folk are more likely to approach you than a wizened traveller, you see we’re more cautious as to the folk we take in company.” Pausing again, judging whether the moment was right, he asked,

“Tell me Dick, has there been any violence in the town; an attack on the Inn perhaps? I’ve known a good few Inns in my time attacked because of the occupants inside.” Heart beating hard eyes fixed on the Inn Keeper he awaited an answer with baited breath..

[Kath]

Cir stared at her brother as the last vestiges of sleep left her eyes and what he was saying finally got through to her brain.

"Wolf cubs? You found wolf cubs?"

"Yes!" Was the excited reply. "What should we do?"

"I ... well, did you see the mother?" Cir sat up slowly, trying to recall the events of the morning. Had there been a female wolf outside?

"No, but perhaps she just hasn't returned yet. I saw tracks leading away just not leading back. But the wolf that was killed this morning, someone said it was male but I am not certain - I wish I had taken a closer a look at it before I set off this morning but they have taken the body away now I think .. ."

"It may not have been the mother, but let's go take another look. If she comes back it'll be ok."

"And if she doesn't?"

"I don't know Cir. Let's just go back to where you found the cubs and hope the mother does turn up. We'll think about what to do if she doesn't if we have to."

Throwing off the bedclothes Cir shoved her brother out of the way and got to her feet. Grabbing cloak, shoes and Cir's hand she set off downstairs with her brother in tow. The two siblings made their way back into the woods, with the younger Cir now leading the way along the path he had found earlier. Crouching down just a few feet away from the little den Cir had found earlier they waited, their dark cloaks keeping them hidden from the three little wolf cubs who seemed to have no fear of playing in the small clearing in front of the den.

"Don't they look thin?" Whispered Cir, turning to his sister with a worried frown. "Maybe it was the mother. Maybe she came to the Inn to find food because she couldn't find any here. Even if the dead wolf was a male, there were others which were driven off they might have been killed too by farmers or ..rangers even - there were at least a couple of them in the inn last night I think"

Cir had to admit that it was possible, and as the morning sun reached its peak and there was still no sign of the mother she was becoming more and more convinced that her brother might be right.

"Ok, lets go back to the Inn. We -"

"What? We can't just leave them here, what if something happens?"

"Cir, let me finish alright? I know you want to take them back with us.. "

"No!" her brother cried with unusual vehemence."That is the last place I would take them...not after they killed the old wolf ... they would think like Ada, and would kill them as soon as look at them". Despite his age it seemed as if the boy might cry. The seeming plight of the cubs had struck a chord in his heart.

" And we can't take them back to Woodhall either ... but if we do nothing they will die.." he added..remembering where they were supposed to be..

His sister switched back into elder sibling mode,"They'll be ok for a few hours, and it'll give the mum more of a chance to come back if it wasn't her at the Inn this morning. Does that make sense to you? And it will give us a chance to think what to do"

Reluctantly Cir nodded, and with a wistful glance back at the cubs the two walked back again.

The twins having wasted no time in getting breakfast ate for a while in thoughtful but companionable silence. Carantilion sipped his milkless tea... an idea had formed. He leaned forward and his twin mimicked the gesture so their dark heads were close enought for him to whisper.

"What if we leave them where they are but take them food? I think they look old enough to eat proper food not just milk .... that might keep them going until their mother can get back if she has just been scared out of the way ..and maybe we can find out for certain whether it was a she-wolf they killed and what happened to the others ..there is bound to be a lot of talk about it... I shouldn't think this sort of thing happens often. Of course if their mother is dead..... I wonder how long it will be before the cubs can fend for themselves..." Having not let his sister get a word in edgeways, Cir's voice tailed off into thought once more.

[Endgame]

A cool breeze followed as Severian turned the bend on yet another patchwork dirt road. The hill behind him descending into the distance, as if another insignificant memory, empty and meaningless. The breeze though colorful and refreshing hindered the tall Gondorians’ vision as his medium length hair wisped in front of his eyes. Removing the hand that had been secured to the strap from which hung his steel shield, Severian pushed back his matted hair with a single brush of his gloved hand.

Returning the recently used hand to its ordinary assigned position the cloaked wanderer lifted his gaze to the forefront of his view. There nestled as if by divine meaning in the distance lay a simple little inn, built humbly into the side of one of the Shire’s many hills. A smirk found its way to the stern figures’ face as he chuckled lightly at the thought of little hairy Hobbits stumbling back and forth with all many of cooking tools to prepare a proper meal. Generally Severian would not stop at such a place, especially in his travel-weary, gruff-looking state. Yet something felt different about this establishment, and his conscience rebuked otherwise.

With a quickly jerked nod and small chuckle the Son of Severius fastened his cloak’s brooch tighter and quickened his pace towards the hovel-like structure in hopes of a comfortable room, some ale, and a warm hearth. After all, his coin purse had been growing heavy as of late.

Leaning his sword hand on “Sorrow”, the large blade that lay at his side, Severian stepped towards the small oval shaped door. Extending his off-hand he pushed forth, his black Gondorian bracers, bearing the White Tree showing for only a moment as they appeared from the folds of his brown cloak for the motion’s duration. Bending his head he stepped forth through the threshold and into a lively and peaceful common room.

Snapping his head back suddenly as to let his cowl fall backwards, he scanned the room until he found the bar counter to his right. Paying no heed to the other patrons the young Gondorian sat himself at the stool nearest the corner propping his feet up against the nearest stool. He pondered for a moment if he should sharpen his skinning knife but instead stayed his hand.

Leaning back against the wall Severian sighed enjoying the atmosphere, his sword and right hand invisible to the naked eye under the folds of his cloak. Settling himself deeper into the wall Severius nodded at the rather intoxicated looking man aside him, and with a smirk turned his attention to the kitchen side of the bar, waiting for the barkeep.

[Folwren]

This apparently innocent, curious traveler was almost getting too curious, even for Dick. His pipe was just about empty know and he drew a deep breath as he knocked it gently. “I don’t see why anybody should attack this inn. We don’t have any conspicuous occupants.” He stood up abruptly. “I have a waiting customer,” he said, seeing a newcomer enter the inn. He started away, but he had only gone two paces before he turned about again.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I wouldn’t normally go talking about it, for fear of spreading discomfort among the guests, but I think you could manage not to spread the tale. This morning, we were attacked.” Limaris’ eyes became sharper and his attention more direct. “Not by hobbits or men or anything. We had a group of wolves come in. They got into the stables and took refuge there. Some of us had to go out and fight them off.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I do have to go see to this new customer.” He hurried to the counter and came around it to face the man sitting there. “Good morning to you, sir,” Dick said, putting his hands together and resting them on the counter top. “What may I get for you?"

[Endgame]

Severian gave a gruff good-intended smile, as he looked to the humble looking Hobbit on the other side of the counter. Pushing some hair that had drifted into his eyes out of the way Severian answered. "How do you do good sir? I'd rather like some lodging for the night and perhaps an ale and some meat for now." Severian tried being more jovial but failed miserably the smile washing away from his face, as it once again became hardened and dust-covered.

Reaching within the folds of his cloak he removed a small satchel full of currency and placing it on the counter said. "I hope this will cover any costs." And with that he returned to his business of scanning the room, and as a precaution to avoid curious eyes he slide the cowl of his cloak back over his head, hiding his visage in shadow. Leaning back against the wall once more he settled into the stool and waited for his food and drink to arrive.

[mormegil]

Kuric sat listening to Tollers speak on. He had felt tired but the sustenance was beginning to take effect by working the languor out of his body. Talk of adventure and of Bilbo had erased all thoughts of sleep from his mind. Now he was simply willing to swap stories with this hobbit, of course he realized that it would be himself that would do the most talking.

He resolved that he would indeed invite Bilbo to the Perch for a visit. It wasn’t the reason he had ended up in The Shire but since he was here he couldn’t resist the prospect of properly meeting Bilbo. He also understood that Bilbo would be truly delighted to see a dwarf from Erebor again. Suddenly Kuric was startled out of his thoughts by hearing about wolves. Wolves he mused, I wonder if it could have anything to do with…Naw, it couldn’t be, well at least I hope not

Turning his attention back to Tollers, who was surprisingly becoming a friend, he heard him speaking about adventure amongst trees and advising him not to carry an axe. Upon hearing this Kuric jumped up and boisterously proclaimed, “AXE! Why I don’t have an axe! Look here you little scoundrel I carry a mace with me, I’m never without it, see.” With that Kuric promptly produced from his mace and gave it a light thud on the table. “What’s this yer saying about trees? What adventure could trees give me? Trees can’t attack or bleed, why just two days ago my mace was stained with the blood of…well, I mean.” Kuric trailed off rather stupidly. “TREES” Kuric blurted suddenly after a moments pause. “You hobbits sure are a queer folk to think that trees could give an adventure, what do I look like a danged elf?”

“Now about that Bilbo, why don’t you fetch me a piece of parchment and I’ll write him a quick invitation to come and visit us over here,” Kuric added. “Maybe the three of us can get some ideas of where some adventure and treasure lie near by these parts.

[Mithalwen]

Cir cast his gaze around the common room for any likely source of information. There didn't seem to be anyone he recognised particularly from the night before. The dwarf was not one of those they had made music with the evening before and had already cast a scornful glance in their direction, while the younger men who had been talking to Dick at the bar also seemed to be newcomers and it seemed to him that there was something rather forbidding about their appearance.

He frowned thinking that most of those they knew had likely not stayed so long abed and had breakfasted and gone about their business or their journeys earlier in the morning. Turning he saw another face, a friendly looking one that he recognised. It was the man who had arrived late the previous evening. Cir had not talked with him having been occupied with playing and singing but he fancied he had heard something him being from Rohan. If that were so he might know a bit about wolves seeing as that land had the Misty Mountains and the White about it's borders. Besides he looked as if he might appreciate some company, sitting alone lingering over his coffee.

Cir nudged his sister and having swallowed the last of the toast and honey which had completed a surprisingly large breakfast for a not particularly hungry elf, he picked up his mug of tea and tentatively approached the man who raised his head as the elf approached and looked at him with clear blue eyes.
Encouraged Cir spoke:

"Excuse me, Sir, do you mind if we join you? My name is Carantilion Laicirith and this is my sister Enpauriel Laicirith - but usually we just get called Cir" he added looking hopefully at Edric.

[Boromir88]

After Edric's little talk with the shiriff he sat back down at his table and continued to sip at his coffee. He was surprised the shiriff had not returned to give him a reply as far as the found necklace was concerned. He became even more surprised when he unexpetendly heard the sound of a fair voice.

"Excuse me, Sir, do you mind if we join you? My name is Carantilion Laicirith and this is my sister Enpauriel Laicirith - but usually we just get called Cir"

He looked up and remembered the two faces from the night before. Why these were the Elves who had played the wonderful music last night! Eddie thought he had accomplished almost everything he ever wanted to do in life. Never did he think he would meet and actually talk to Elves. The tales told in Rohan and Gondor, about the Elves, were not particularly good. The Elves were a mysterious people that like to play trick your mind, but Eddie always knew deep down inside these tales were false. He could not believe he is now talking to, not just one of them, but two!

"Forgive m-me...for b-b-being so...rude. Oh, I'm so-so s-s-sorry. I've just...never, well...umm...t-t-alked to Elves before." Once Edric got some of his first jitters out of the way he calmed down and regained some of his calmness. "Oh my, you must think I'm a bumbling fool. I apologize for stumbling over my own words. It's not usually like me. Your melody was absolutely beautiful last night. I've never heard anything so wonderful before! Oh pardon my manners, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Edric, would you two care to join me?"

[Mänwe]

He’d blown it, there was only so much pressure you could apply, even to Hobbit’s whom Limaris had found over the year upon the borders of the Shire to be natural gossipers. Perhaps Inn Keepers were different, wary that any secrets or tales they might ply to customers would be spread, and their names as the “root” of the rumours and so compromise his or her credibility.

Dick tapped his pipe out while answering rather defensively. And while Limaris may be too judgmental most of the time and often incorrectly, he was sure that it seemed as if the Inn Keeper was hiding something. For while he as sure that Dick would have mentioned a very unsavoury character something had occurred.

That small glimmer of hope lit in his heart like that of a flickering candle almost but not quite extinguished, and he fought to maintain a calm and relaxed appearance as Dick turned having walked just a few paces,

“I wouldn’t normally go talking about it, for fear of spreading discomfort among the guests, but I think you could manage not to spread the tale. This morning, we were attacked.”

The words seemed to come slowly from his mouth, again a rush of implications flit through his mind, leaning slightly forward and showing a direct and interested stare he conveyed the air of an apologetic and distressed friend, while inside he was reeling. He could at times become over “excited” and worried over a situation, and it was something he had been told frequently, again by the Captain of the company, in comparison to the rest of the company he knew he was more like an excited child that a calm and collected Ranger of the north.

The mention of wolves sent more thoughts running through his mind. And as Dick excused himself he quickly answered.

”Of course, please, attend to him.”

With that he sat slowly back in his chair, taking the last of his ale he began to ponder. The company had not come across any wolves on their patrol, though it was likely that the animals had travelled some distance in the search for food. If Limaris surmised that it was the time of year that they were rearing cubs. Yet the factor of them attacking the Inn in was worrying, whether they were after the horses and were simply defending themselves when the Hobbits tried to prevent them, or it was a deliberate attack on Hobbits, he did not know he had been unable to extract any more details from the Hobbit.

However his mission parameter were clear, he was to find out any information pertaining to unusual events with a particular look out for violence within the Shire. He told himself not to dwell on it too much, he would not be the one who gave the orders he was merely the messenger. Still it was appearing more and more likely that the end of field leave would be cancelled.

There were no wolves near Linhir his birthplace, yet there were much the same as any wild animal, attacking really in desperation, which supported the view that they had cubs that needed feeding, or that they were dominated by some will greater that their own, and had been “commanded” or “provoked” into attacking the Inn.

Another factor came into the equation which supported the view that it was the horses they were after; Dick had said that they were in the stables; they had not simply randomly attacked any Hobbit in Stock but had made straight for the stables, and taken “refuge”.

Why they should seek refuge in their stables was bemusing, perhaps leaving their cubs unattended, it did not make sense, especially when Dick had said they had “attacked” the Inn, there was either something else to the story or the Hobbit really had misunderstood the incident.

That or something darker was at work. Perhaps there was taking refuge, desperate enough to fight the Hobbits only when they were discovered and to abandon their cubs, then it hit Limaris much like the impact of a training sword, perhaps they were fleeing from something.

These were the thoughts that clouded judgment; still surely there was no harm in exploring all possible angles. He was in no way skilled or ranked enough to impress any of his thoughts on his superiors. He would have to find out more. Talk to other who had been present or seen the events of the “attack”.

The dwarf was still nagging him, he seemed to have travelled a great distance. He may well have heard of something, not of the Shire but from other parts, he may not have come directly to Stock. Limaris resolved that the dwarf would have to be approached. But how too, he seemed to be rather gruff and closed, and he had entered in full armour with axe in plain view.

It would not do to simply walk over and start an interrogation, the noise the dwarf’s voice had reached across the entire Inn conveying slight impatience. However the Hobbit who had been serving him seemed to have calmed him. So the question still remained; how to approach a tired fully armoured dwarf, enter into conversation and seamlessly probe him for knowledge of his travels while extracting any rumours without arising suspicion?

Limaris perhaps rashly, decided to create another character, an armourer, and someone who knew a fine piece of work when he saw it, befitting really seeing as the dwarf had entered with a shining coat of mithril and that his father was an armourer also, blanching at the fortune the dwarf was wearing in plain view was astonishing, especially as it was a full coat of mail. Summing up the courage he stood and approached taking advantage of Dick’s distraction.

His idea didn’t bode well; already the dwarf had appeared enraged by something the young Hobbit had said. Pausing he swallowed slowly and sat at another table, he’d wait till the dwarf had calmed and there was room for another at the table as it were.

[Kath]

Biting back the laughter that threatened to spill over as the poor man first stared in astonishment and then talked himself round in circles Cir simply smiled and nodded in reply.

"We would love to join you, Edric, and thank you, we do enjoy making music and love it even more when it pleases other people. But please don't apologise! We were the same when we met a Hobbit for the first time, and don't get me started on how rude Cir was the first time he saw a Dwarf."

"Hey!" Came an indignant interruption from her brother. "That was only because of things a certain sister of mine had told me."

A guilty grin crossed Cir's face as she remembered that particular incident and she quickly shushed her brother before he could tell the tale and ruin the so far not bad reputation she had with this man.

"And it is very rare that we get to meet someone from your homeland. It is Rohan you come from isn't it?"

[Crystal Cobweb]

Jadelen let out a loud, frustrated sigh as she ungracefully plonked herself down on a patch of grass. “I have been walking around in circles for last two hours” Jadelen murmured to herself. She had a tendency to murmur things to herself. She was an only child and thus had no one to talk to and it became a habit to say things aloud. Jadelen was somewhat spoilt and very disorganized but was joyous and very caring. She was extremely mischievous like her closest friend Cir. She pondered about Cir then remembered her current situation of being lost.

“I should have just listened to mother” She murmured to herself once again. Jadelen thought back..
“You may not go visit Cir.” Helanore, Jadelen’s mother, commanded.
“Oh, but why?” Jadelen said while throwing her hands in the air in frustration.
“Jadelen, you know very well that you may not go wandering about in the forest by yourself. You don’t even know the exact whereabouts of Cir.”
“I do” Jadelen paused to read the letter she had received from Cir stating her whereabouts, “she is staying in an Inn called the Golden Perch Inn for a while then they are off to their aunt’s house in Mithlond.”
“And where is the Golden Perch Inn exactly? I will disuse this topic no longer. You know how” Helanore continued, Jadelen never listened to the rest of what her mother had to say as she was uninterested and already made up her mind that she was to go.

She sighed once more blowing a golden curl out of her face. “If I had just listened, perhaps I wouldn’t be lost.” As she said this, she noticed a little building in the distance. She got up, and tightened her deep purple cloak and pushed her long golden hair out of her face and then squinted to try and read the sign on the building. She followed the trail in the direction of the building. It was a lovely forest, large, tall trees that were the prettiest green Jadelen had ever seen. As she came close to the entrance to the building she read the sign aloud “The Golden Perch Inn”. Excitement shot down her body making her whole body shiver, even her toes shivered with excitement.

As she entered she ducked careful not to hit her head like she had done on so many occasions. She straightened up and looked around once she was in the Inn. Curiously there was no one behind the counter. She waited for a while but Jadelen was a weakling for curiosity and began to peer around the Inn looking at all the strange but fascinating characters. She hoped to find Cir and her brother somewhere, hopefully up to no mischief.

[Mithalwen]

Carantilion was piqued enough not to be so easily shushed by his twin sister and before the still slightly flustered Edric could reply, he cut in his words tumbling almost as much as the man's had done:

"She's always getting me in to trouble and we're probably in more now since we shouldn't really be here.... we slipped off for a walk nearly a day ago now ...and we have already been...", he struggled for the Westron word, "banished? from home.. well maybe banished is not right but we have been sent away for a while..to stay with our aunt - now you should hear her music - it is wonderful but she hates performing - whereas we love performing but don't get the chance so much ...they don't think we are so good at home, in fact Ada thinks we are good-for-nothing wastrels ... " .

He stopped, sensing before he saw, the startled look on his sister's face and hung his head. He had blurted out to this kind faced stranger what he had concealed from his sibling, the gist of the overheard conversation between his parents. His pale face flushed and was glad that his dark hair had fallen to shield it from his companions on either side.

"so it was very kind of you to say that you liked our music Edric... " he added quietly, and picking up his mug. He gazed into it's emptiness as if it was a Palantir, "I think I will get another cup of tea? Would either of you like anything - then we can hear all your tales of Rohan" he added as nonchalently as he could manage, as if he had never uttered his outburst but his eyes were low and a little too bright and he was biting his lower lip... Cir hadn't cried in public for years and he was determined not to do so now. He had managed to control himself in the face of the ire of the elders of Imladris but perhaps kindness was harder to deal with.

[Boromir88]

Edric was quite pleased with getting some company; something he had been sorely missing in Gondor. These two elves seemed a bit different from what he was expecting. However, he didn't mind, he was still talking to Elves for the first time. Oh, if only I could tell my sisters back home... he ended in thought.

"I think I will get another cup of tea? Would either of you like anything - then we can hear all your tales of Rohan."

"No, thank you." replied Eddie.

When Cir had left, Edric and the other elf, were in complete silence. Eddie kept looking around as to avoid eye contact, trying to make the situation a little less awkward. He let out a sigh of relief when Cir came back with a fresh cup of tea. Edric was anxious to break the silence.

"I was born in Rohan, yes." he said. "So, you could say I'm from there, but I don't feel like I'm a part of anywhere. I don't know if you ever had that feeling, where you just don't seem to belong?"

He stopped for a moment, to see if the two Elves were following him. They simply looked on, seemingly interested, and waiting for him to continue.

"I am afraid, good sir," he said addressing Cir "I really have no great tale worth telling. At least not one I'm sure Elves wouldn't care to hear about. Which is rather unusual for a man as well travelled as myself. I've been wondering a lot lately. I guess you could say I'm trying to find myself. Though I'm afraid I've lived a rather bland, and at times, bleak life. I say I'm not really from Rohan, though I did spend most of my life there, because I can no longer bear to consider myself one of them. After that ruthless tyrant, Thengel, that is. Even his own son had fled to Gondor. Once I could, I got away too! Supposedly, Gondor was going to be a lot better, but I really found nothing great about it. So, I packed up again and this time came out West to settle down. I'm afraid there's not much more to tell. Unless you want to go on hearing about being the only man in my family for over twenty years, which I wish not to bore you with such stories." Despite Edric saying that, he really hoped the Elves would care to listen to some more. Edric hadn't said this much in a long time. "Anyway, enough about me for a while, I would think that you two would have far better tales to tell."

[Kath]

'Good-for-nothing wastrels.' The words spun round Cir's head, almost echoing as things clicked into place. Her brother's bad moods lately, the quietness, the turning to her for advice in so many matters. Had Ada truly said such a thing? Had they really disappointed him that much?

She barely noticed as Cir left to fetch a cup of tea, neatly excusing himself from what he knew was brewing in her. But he couldn't stay away forever. As lost in thought as she was Cir was aware of Edric and how uncomfortable her hurt and agry silence was making him, and knew that her brother would not be able to stand by and watch as the poor man continued to fidget in his seat. Sure enough, before too long Cir was back, allowing Edric to relax and continue his tale. Still though she barely listened.

'Good-for-nothing wastrels.' Why hadn't Cir told her? They always shared everything. Where was the point in having a twin if they weren't there to be your confidant? Anger grew in Cir as the feelings of betrayal thrummed through her, making her usually still frame agitated. Jerking her head to the side she caught sight of a familiar figure carefully picking it's way through the crowded common room. A few seconds passed as she focused on the newcomer, until some sense that they were being watched caused them to turn. Their eyes met and a smile spread across Cir's face. Jadelen. Suddenly realising that Edric had finished speaking she picked up on the last few words he had uttered.

"Anyway, enough about me for a while, I would think that you two would have far better tales to tell."

"Apparently so!" She answered, one quick glance at her brother all she needed to convey her disgust at having been left out of the loop. "And it seems that it is Cir here that has many such tales, as well as the one we intended to tell you, so I shall leave him to tell you them. I must excuse myself, I've just seen a friend I really have to welcome."

Rising from her seat Cir directed a graceful bow at Edric and headed toward the site where she had last seen her friend from home. Her brother she treated with a cool indifference, not even looking at him as she felt his fingers reach out to grab her sleeve, and felt a disquieting sense of satisfaction as she sensed him withdraw.

Slipping through the furniture she found Jadelen leaning against a wall on the far side of the room, obviously waiting for her.

"Mae govannen!" Cir called as she reached Jadelen's side. "I am so glad you've come, the things I have to tell you!"

[Mithalwen]

Cir wilted inside, in the face of his sisters scarce concealed fury - it was one thing for their parents to be angry and disappointed in them - that had been a fairly normal state of affairs for the past decade or two but he could not remember his sister ever being quite this angry. - They argued of course as siblings do but she normally calmed down after a while,and remembering this he made no further effort to impede her departure. To try to talk to her now would probably make things worse he decided besides it seems she had secrets of her own. She hadn't seem surprised to see Jadelen - and to see one of the few other young elves of Rivendell,here of all places was pretty surprising, especially since Gable was already living at the inn. It would be more or less just the old folk left in Imladris he thought taking a sip of his tea before speaking after a momentary pause to the man.

"I'm sorry about that Edric, I guess I should have told her .... but girls are strange sometimes....but I suppose you know that if you are the only man in your family" he added almost smiling for a moment. He quickly reviewed in his mind what else Edric had said and wished he had paid more attention to his lessons.

"I am afraid I don't know very much about recent events in the South - my father went to Gondor but a long time ago - he was in the army of Gil-galad at the Last Alliance but his father and brother were killed so he doesn't talk about it much ....and I am afraid we didn't pay much attention when Erestor tried to teach us and he gave up - so I am a bit hazy on everything after the meeting of Cirion and Eorl." Cir spoke sadly, embarrassed both by his ignorance and his earlier outburst.

"I didn't realise Rohan was so bad - I though it would be nice there - with the mountains and the horses and near to Lorien and Fangorn". Cir had made more effort in the study of geography than history. It changed less frequently and had seemed more useful.

"Oh have you ever seen an Ent? I am not sure I believe they really exist! And what about wolves ..have you ever seen them before today?". It was not the most subtle segue but his genuine curiosity about Edric and his anxiety about the fractured relationship with his twin had not driven the seemingly orphaned wolf-cubs from his mind.

[Tevildo]

Tollers shook his head and dug in his curly toes. He could be very stubborn when he wanted. "I wouldn't be so sure about those trees, my friend! I've heard tales of Big Folk getting lost in the woods, falling asleep underneath a tree, and then vanishing, completely vanishing, by the next morning. I don't know what happens to the men but, whatever it is, it doesn't sound good! And they had maces and axes and swords to protect them. Believe me, these aren't the kind of trees that an Elf would take a liking to.....more like something akin to a giant spider or bat, aloof and mysterious and not all that fond of dwarves or hobbits!"

"But as to your request, I can certainly do that." Tollers sprinted over to the bar, took out a sheet of parchment and a writing instrument and brought them over to Kuric. "Here you go now," he said, as he pushed the materials over to the dwarf. Go ahead and invite him and see what he says. It can't do any harm."

"Now, I've got to be about my business. So if you'll excuse me." Tollers turned and left the table. He liked the dwarf but the fellow did seem a bit uppity. No sane person living in Buckland or the eastern part of the Shire would be silly enough to doubt the power and might of the forest. Tollers remembered tales from his granny who had talked about how the Trees had become angry in her youth and battled back against the Master of Buckland's hedge. That skirmish had even woken the wolves and the other nasty creatures who preferred to slink about in the shadows. The hobbit shuddered slightly as he remembered the creatures who had attacked them earlier. He wondered if their presence at the Inn could possibly be related to some ancient grudge or discontent among the Trees.

As he reached the kitchen, Tollers caught sight of one of the children whose lodging were next to Master Kuric. The lad had slipped into the kitchen and stuck his fist into one of Cook's apple pies that had been set on the window sill to cool. Now he was sitting cross legged on the floor and boldy licking the apples off his fingers. "There, there, none of that," Tollers scolded. "You're not supposed to be in here. And none of that stealing pie! Just wait for lunch." As the lad stood up to scamper away, Tollers grinned and called after him, "You're going to have a new neighbor.....a great dwarf warrior with a gigantic mace who is not even afraid of the wild woods. You might want to pay him a visit later today and see what's doing."

Then Tollers gave his attention back to the remains of the apple pie. There was a large hole on one side of the pie. Surely, Cook would not want to have her pie looking so raggedy. Taking a knife out of the drawer, the hobbit cut himself one generous piece and then a second, reasoning that he needed to even out the edges and make it look all proper and neat. He sat down and began to eat.

[Forest Elf]

Gable shook her head to clear her thoughts. She looked around the room again. She noticed that both of the Cir’s were in the room…she knew that Cir would be wanting to hear about the wolves, but first she had to find the kind people who had helped her.

She headed into the kitchen to see if she could make herself useful with anything since she couldn’t see anyone in the dining area who had helped her. She walked in and found Tollers eating some apple pie.

Gable bit her tongue to keep from laughing since she had seen the children leaving the kitchen. Once she could speak without laughing she said, “Hi Tollers. I guess I never did thank you for helping me with the wolf attack earlier…so, thank you.”

[Tevildo]

"That's alright Gable. No need to say thanks. I don't like wolves in the Inn any more than you do. But isn't it funny how those creatures came down and attacked. It's been a long time since anything like that happened. I'd love to know why they did that. What riled them up or made them hungry so they were desperate enough to approach the Inn? They had to have been pretty upset to do something like that. My granny used to say that when she was a wee lass, there were a few wolves lurking in the great forest near Buckland, but that they were kept back in their place out of Buckland and the Shire by Master Brandybuck's hedge. It almost makes me wonder if there could be some problem with that hedge. Maybe a hole or something? Or maybe the Trees are getting so restless that even the wolves didn't feel comfortable there?"

He glanced over at Gable and explained, "That hedge is a scary, scary sight. Have you ever been over to see it or to walk among the trees in the forest? And while you're telling me the answer to that, come sit down and have a piece of pie." Tollers gestured towards the pie with his finger. For some reason, he felt comfortable with this particular elf. He only hoped that Cook didn't notice that they were making a large dent in her apple pie.

[Crystal Cobweb]

Jadelen leaned against the wall which sent shivers down her spine as the wall was cold. She wondered where to start looking for her friend Cir. Knowing Cir, Jadelen assumed she would perhaps be outside exploring, or in the kitchen up to mischief, or even still sleeping! Her eyes wondered around the room, searching the room one last time before searching other places. A group sitting around a table caught her eye, a tall elf sat there with long, braided dark hair, like Cir’s hair always is and an elf that looked somewhat like her brother Cir. It was Cir! Jadelen smiled and their beautiful grey eyes locked for a second. Cir looked a bit startled and surprised.

Cir got up and approached Jadelen excitedly. "Mae govannen!" Cir called as she reached Jadelen's side. "I am so glad you've come, the things I have to tell you!"
Jadelen smirked, “don’t just stands there! Give me a hug.”
Cir opened her arms and placed them around Jadelen. They both giggled and had a slight buzz about them, due to the excitement of seeing each other again.
“Oh, I have missed you so much my dear friend!” Jadelen said, still smiling.

Cir locked her arm in Jadelen’s as she spoke to her, “let us go sit somewhere where we won’t be interrupted.” Cir paused as her eyes searched the room for two vacant places to sit, and then carried on talking while moving towards the chairs, “now, do tell me the impossible of how you got your mother to allow you to come.” Jadelen smirked mischievously and her eyes twinkled. Cir gasped with delight, “you ran away! Oh my, you are in for a lot of trouble Jadelen. It is all worth the adventure though, isn’t it. Tell me all about it!”

Jadelen took off her deep purple cloak before sitting down and continued to talk. “I haven’t much to tell you, it was a rather dull and not an adventurous journey.” Jadelen sighed disappointingly. She continued, “It was lonely and I was worried at times but nothing did ever really frighten me or intrigue me, just a silly little footpath here and there and at times the trees looked as if they were staring down on me. I carried my bow and quivers with me just incase. I was at least hoping to use them once.”
Cir rolled her eyes “it is funny how many wish for a safe journey like yours and you and I wish for danger and excitement. So typical of you Jadelen.”

Jadelen realised they had been talking far too much about herself, she took Cir’s two hands in her own and smiled, “it is so great to see you. Really. When you first approached me you told me that you had so much to tell me! Hopefully more exciting than my rather dull story, please do tell!”

[Firefoot]

Cela hadn't been paying much attention to Tollers - he was in and out of the kitchen often enough that she hadn't felt the need to supervise his every action.

That's what she had thought.

She was just turning around to ask him if there was anything he needed when she heard him comment to Gable, "Come sit down and have a piece of pie." She whirled around and spotted one of the apple pies she had set out to cool now sitting on the table in front of Tollers - with whole slices' worth missing!

"My pie!" Cela exclaimed indignantly. "Tollers, what ever do you think you're doing?" Both Tollers and Gable had frozen, caught in the act. "That was for dinner tonight, you ought to know that! And you ought to know that the food in this kitchen isn't just for your personal pleasure!" As she raged, she snatched the disfigured pie from in front of Tollers and set it back on the shelf next to the others. "Really, I would expect better of you, and maybe I ought to have a word to Master Dick about all this, because it seems lately like every time we turn around you've gotten up to something. Really! Now what have you got to say for yourself?"

[Forest Elf]

Gable was just about to reply that she wasn’t hungry since she didn’t really have an appetite after the wolf attack. She knew that the pie was for later tonight and she would hardly be hungry anyways. But she could sit down. Then Cook whirled on the two of them before she had a chance to even answer Tollers.

Gable, having seen the children leave, figured that they had done something with the pie and Tollers was trying to keep them out of trouble. “I think that Tollers may be trying to keep the children out of trouble that were in here.” Gable said looking over at Cela.

[Holbytlass]

"Have fun but keep your wits about you."
"Oh, she'll be alright. Hurry along now, dear."

Those were the last words Sydney heard from her parents amid the goodbyes and the cheers of her siblings. She left them for the first time in her life during the wee hours yet it seemed a lifetime ago. Sydney was on her own.

There were two older brothers, Sydney, then two more brothers. These fours sons worked with their father cutting and delivering timber. Then the second daughter, Lindsey, who had just turned twelve last week. She was now old enough to handle all the responsibilities of caring for the five youngest children. Forever etched in Sydney’s memory is Lindsey’s proud little face as she stood by their mother, so glad to be able to do her part.

Hours and miles sped by as the trusty pony, Clyde, kept a steady pace. Sydney could hardly believe how quiet the daytime actually was. It was almost deafening. Her ears were forever filled with talking, squabbling, crying, and joking voices.

In almost perfect timing, Sydney’s stomach grumbled painfully as she neared an inn-The Golden Perch. She could hear all the talk and movement going on inside, “Ah, music to my ears”. She tethered Clyde to the post and stepped through the door.

Loud sounds are familiar but this sight was so foreign! There were beings here that she had only heard of. Quickly Sydney found a table out of the way. She tried to act like she had done this before but the big cheesy grin gave evidence to the rising excitement inside her.

[Mänwe]

Aside from the odd looks that he had received having planted himself at a table of patrons uninvited with not so much as a nod or any eye contact what so ever he also had to worry about how exactly to engage the Dwarf. Who appeared to have calmed a little and the Hobbit having briefly returned to the table with parchment and quill had retreated toward the door behind the counter.

His observation of the exchange had told Limaris that he would not be returning to the table unless asked. The buzz of conversation at the table he had sat himself had picked up again after his rather abrupt appearance, and Limaris took advantage and stood once more and strode toward the table at which the dwarf was seated. As he approached he cleared his throat politely as if something were irritating his throat and immediately spoke;

“A shining and unblemished coat of mail, no missing links nor any replacement links, each looks as if it had been but made yesterday, straight from the forge! Yet here you are, tired and dusty clearly from long travels. Nay cannot be steel, there be only one metal that could remain so polished and unbroken.”

At his next words he stepped right up to the table and looked at the dwarf and proceeded to seat himself lowering his voice slightly,

“A fine coat of mithril sir! I am known as Aranholt, I have a passing knowledge of smith craft, and how by the blessed life of my mother did you come across such piece?”

He continued to hold the gaze with the dwarf, it would be best if he appeared confident and merely curious. Boy but was he complicating things, two wholly different characters he’d created now in as many hours.

Would that he had kept things simple, should Dick return and call him by another name, things would certainly get complicated. And again his thoughts could not help but return to that of assuming a different role and how far he might press the individual for information. A non stop and attempted subtle interrogation this was turning out to be. Offering his hand to shake he blocked out everything around him, he and the dwarf,Dick and the other Hobbit would be the only ones in the Inn, certainly they were the only ones he had to worry about for now; he would need to tread carefully.

[mormegil]

Kuric received the parchment and writing implement and wasn’t sad to see Tollers leave. While he had enjoyed his brief conversation with him, Kuric wasn’t much of a conversationalist and really wasn’t in the mood to be chatting, unless it was grand tales that were almost too outlandish to be true. He had also realized that his assessment of hobbits was closer to the mark than he had thought when young Tollers began talking of adventure and had caused his hopes to rise. With a degree of disappointment focused on the parchment. He was looking forward to quickly jotting down a note and heading up to take a brief respite from his travels. Unfortunately for him, Kuric wasn’t great at his letters and was never much one to write with any degree of eloquence.

He sat deep in thought as to how to begin his letter to Bilbo and had finally resolved to start by simply writing:

Billbo,

The trouble was, as Kuric saw it, he didn’t know if he had spelled it correctly and wasn’t about to ask if he had, maybe he would have somebody write it for him. He never liked learning or being taught as he found it extremely tedious and boring, but he hated letting people know he wasn’t as well educated as he should be too. So showing his possible typo was off, perhaps if he paid sufficiently he would get somebody to write it. While musing on his current quandary, he was surprised when a stranger began to talk to him.

“A shining and unblemished coat of mail, no missing links nor any replacement links, each looks as if it had been but made yesterday, straight from the forge! Yet here you are, tired and dusty clearly from long travels. Nay cannot be steel, there be only one metal that could remain so polished and unbroken.”

Kuric watched as this newcomer proceeded to sit down at his table and tried to size him up, without a thought Kuric subtlety reached for his mace that was at his side, hoping not to be in a threatening posture, hoping it wasn’t even noticeable but decided that it really didn’t matter and he would rather be in a state of preparedness than taken unawares. Kuric had been questioned before about his mail and too often the results of the conversations turned bloody. His troubled mind flashed to the last group of thieves who thought that his coat belonged to them and wondered what this newcomer had in mind.

“A fine coat of mithril sir! I am known as Aranholt, I have a passing knowledge of smith craft, and how by the blessed life of my mother did you come across such piece?”

His previous troubles of the writing now forgotten, the dwarf focused on the newest problem at hand and wondered if he would find any peace here.

“Aranholt, did you say? Well what do you want to know about me mail for? How it is mine is for me to know and I’m not to be sharing with the likes of you. Now if you have nothing else to say I suggest you leave!”

With that he gave a dismissive grunt and began to look at the parchment again trying to appear interested and hoping that this newcomer wouldn’t cause any trouble. Peace was not Kuric’s lot in life though there were times when even he enjoyed such times. His hand would stay on his mace until he felt more secure with the situation and stranger before him. He would, as always, have to be prepared for the worst.

[Folwren]

Little Begonia lay shrieking on the bed, demanding her mother’s attention with fierce and furious cries. Her mother’s attention could not switch immediately to her, she had seven other children to deal with.

“Mom, Mom, can’t we eat breakfast?”

“Mom, I’m hungry!”

“Mom, can I go fishing today?”

Mrs. Thedgethistle was driven to distraction. The baby screamed louder. Finally, she turned from her older swarm and picked up Begonia. “Daisy, take everyone but Bill and Meg out, will you?”

Lil leapt to her feet, off of the bed where she had been sitting looking through a picture book. Five year old Bill and three year old Meg threw themselves on their mother, begging with all their might to be allowed to go out, too. Lil didn’t want her mother to change her mind. It was bad enough that Iris, who was a whole year younger than her, got to go, too. If Mom let Bill go, disasters might happen.

Lil grasped Daisy’s hand and pulled her towards the door. “Come on!” she said. “Let’s go exploring, please!”

[Finduilas]

Elorn paused when he caught sight of the sign of The Golden Perch. He knew it was a good inn by hobbit standards, but he had no clue what hobbit standards were. But he also knew that something was often better than nothing. And hobbits seemed pleasant creatures, once you got used to children that were entirely grown up.

He decided to stop and as he entered the inn, he looked around for a seat. Seeing a chair that was out of the way and close to a corner, he made his way to it. He had first seen a hobbit just a few days ago, and wanted to be able to observe them without being overly observed himself.

A dwarf’s hand on his mace and half ignoring the man across the table from him, caught Elorn’s eye. It looked like a possible argument, and though Elorn didn’t like trouble, arguments were usually interesting.

[Folwren]

Dick had helped his newest customer and found himself standing with nothing to do behind the counter. He looked over the common room several times, but everyone seemed well and happy, with food and drink before them. From behind him, in the kitchen, he could hear Cela’s voice break out in protest. Something about an apple pie… Tollers again, Dick figured, and promptly shut out the sound of a possible row. His eyes scanned the room again and he was just about to go see if he could find Rowan when a new comer entered the inn.

It was a tall man who came in, young and handsome. His eyes scanned the room quickly as he entered and immediately, he made his way over to a far, shadowed corner, away from the light of the windows, and took a seat. Once more his eyes passed around the room and Dick saw them settle on the dwarf and the man that he had previously been speaking with. Dick’s eyes followed his gaze and he, too, saw the hand clenched on the shaft of the mace. His eyebrows lifted and then lowered with concern. He didn’t want an argument and he didn’t think trouble would be interesting enough to pay for the trouble it would cause.

But an argument had not been declared and trouble had not begun. Dick didn’t want to address the dwarf without need and therefore he wouldn’t. Instead, he would see if the new guest needed anything.

He went about the counter and pattered quickly over the solitary young man and drew his attention to himself as he arrived by speaking.

“G’day, my dear sir! May I get you anything? Ale? Wine? Beer? Breakfast, maybe, instead? We’ve got biscuits and eggs and bacon and perhaps anything else you want?”

[MaskedNicci]

Alassë

The Golden Perch, the sign said. Alassë figured that it would do no harm to go inside and have something to drink. She wasn't about to get drunk and chatter away loose-tongued with the locals, but she couldn't deny being parched for thirst.

Stepping inside wearing her comfortable and well-worn traveling clothes, she ventured to look openly around. It was cozy inside, and she had just entered in time to see another figure seat himself. It was a human, and he looked a tad suspicious to Alassë, though he wasn't the ugliest of his race, and there was no outward signs that should cause her to suspect him of anything but traveling to see a relative. Yet she suspected, just the same. He was observing his surroundings quickly and with curiosity, which Alassë still did not like. Seating herself not too far from him, she took her turn at observation.

[Finduilas]

Elorn gave a start when a hobbit, apparently the landlord, addressed him. He had stopped thinking about the man and dwarf, or even about the inn, and had been thinking of home.

“Oh. Good day,” he replied. “ Um, yes, I’d like… ale for now. Thanks.”

As the hobbit turned to go Elorn stopped him. “Excuse me, but how would I be able to get a message to a Farmer Maggot? Where exactly does he live? And I would like to get a room here. I don’t know how long I will be staying.”

[Folwren]

“A room! Aye, indeed, sir, as soon as you want it. And I can give you directions to Maggot’s. He lives down the road south*, several miles. You’ll see it. He’s got a lane branching off from the road, with a gate and fence by it. Beautifully kept lands. He keeps a couple of wolfish dogs, so make certain you stay on the road and approach his house by the lane.

“I’ll go and get your ale for ye.” He started away quickly, pattering over the floor and around tables as though he’d done it all his life. He stepped behind the bar and filled the mug full and foaming, and started back towards his customer.

He had almost reached the man when something happened to Dick that had never happened to him before. His eyes strayed upwards, drawn by the presence of a newcomer. His attention left the ale in his hands and the path that his feet took as he looked towards the elf who had just taken a seat. She was near the man he was serving and her eyes were slowly looking around her.

It was at the moment that his mind grasped the idea that she was actually studying the people around her as though she expected to see something suspicious that he bumped into the edge of one of the heavy tables. He stumbled sideways and his feet tripped around themselves, and Dick went plunging down towards the floor.

He gave a squeaking cry as the ale mug flew up and out of his hands. He didn’t watch where it landed as he concentrated on catching himself. But when he had shaken his head and slowly mounted to his knees and looked around, his eyes grew larger and his body froze.

The elven girl was standing up, her cloak and clothes soaked with the ale that he had fairly thrown directly into her lap. Dick groaned inwardly and paused before rising to address the problem.

---------------------------------------

*Still don’t have a map by me, so I may be wrong. Subject to possible changing.

[Finduilas]

Elorn waited as the landlord filled his order, and watched, slightly amused as he tripped over himself. Elorn’s amusement faded when he saw where his ill fated ale landed. He quickly jumped up, helped the confused Dick to his feet, and then went over to help the elf.

“Apologies for any inconvenience, ma'am,” he said as he picked up the empty mug, and offering her his handkerchief.

Elorn stifled his impolite inclination to laugh, knowing that it probably wouldn’t go over the well with the injured elf. He righted her chair, which had fallen over in her hasty rise, and offered it to her.

[Tevildo]

Daisy turned around and grinned impishly at Tom, relishing her triumph of being the one whom mother picked to care for the younger siblings. "Yes, mum, I'll do that," she responded pertly, taking Lil's hand and heading towards the door.

"Where are we going?" the younger girl queried. "Let's do something exciting....a real adventure."

"We'll see in a minute. For now, let's go down to the common room and then we'll figure things out."

Daisy swept into the hallway with the four other children following behind her. The very last in line was Tom, who still had a sullen expression on his face. After filing into the Common Room, they sat down at one of the tables and began peering around at the other guests.

Within two minutes, Lil was complaining loudly to her older sister. "I'm hungry," she wailed. "Maybe we could get something good to eat? A big piece of pie? It's no fun just sitting here."

Daisy shook her head. "I spent all my pennies the other day in the market. We haven't any money. Not even a ha' penny."

"This isn't exciting. It's not an adventure. And I want a piece of pie," countered Lil in a dejected tone.

"Behave, Lil! Everyone is looking at us. Mum wants us to be good." Daisy gave her a stern face.

"I am being good. But this is boring..... I want to do something different than sitting in this dumb old room and watching other people eat."

"I have an idea....." A soft voice rose from the end of the table. Tom withdrew an object from his pocket and placed it triumphantly in front of the others.

Daisy turned around to look. Her jaw dropped open in surprise, as she exclaimed, "Tolman Hedgethistle! Where did you get that? Ooh....you're going to get in trouble. Big trouble!"

[Kath]

"It is so great to see you. Really. When you first approached me you told me that you had so much to tell me! Hopefully more exciting than my rather dull story, please do tell!"

Cir laughed as Jadelen stopped her runaway tongue long enough to await the answer to her question. She had almost forgotten the joy of speaking to one near her own age that was not her brother. Her brother, ah yes, that was what she'd wanted to talk to Jadelen about.

"My story isn't a great deal more interesting. Cir and I managed to slip the watchful eyes of those pilgrims and made our way here for a bit of fun, but the journey was as easy as you say yours was and we had a very warm welcome once we arrived. It was what happened this morning that I wished to tell you about! But not here. It seems however quietly you speak in this room there is always someone you haven't noticed who happens to overhear!"

Taking Jadelen by the arm again Cir began walking back to the room she and her brother had shared the night before, ignoring the feel of eyes on her back, knowing it would be Cir attempting to apologise with the soulful eyes that had got him out of trouble with her many times before. She was sure that had she been alone she would have turned and fallen prey to them, but Jadelen's presence gave her the company she would otherwise have been bereft of had she stayed mad at Cir and she stalked out of the common room without a backward glace.

Once they reached the room Cir watched as Jadelen stared round with unabashed fascination, before finally settling down on one of the beds and fixing her with a sharp look.

"So, I noticed some hostility between you and Cir back there, is that what you wanted to talk about?"

Cir nodded sadly.

"Well what on earth happened? You two have always been so close!"

"He kept things from me!" Cir cried out, the anger that had been coursing through her before returning with a vengeance. "He overheard our parents saying some not very nice things about us and rather than tell me he kept it to himself. He broke the rules. We always tell each other everything even if it's horrible, you know that. He just made me so cross!"

Realising she was reaching a level of agitation not really suitable for one of a race known for being cool and collected Cir stopped to allow herself to calm slightly and turned to her friend for reassurance.

"I'm not being stupid about all this am I Jadelen?"

[MaskedNicci]

She hadn't been seated very long at all, when suddenly a loud noise reached her keen and listening ears, and she barely had time to look up to see a mug of ale flying in her direction. Unable to stop the inevitable, she stood up in shock, staring down at the mess of ale quickly soaking through her traveling clothes. Alassë uttered a sharp sound of disapproval, her eyes darting around to fall upon the one who had may as well have walked over and dumped it over the disgruntled female.

The figure she had been watching came over and apologized 'for any inconvenience'. Alassë couldn't help but narrow her eyes ever more in distrust. It just seemed too coincidental that the innkeeper had 'accidentally' thrown drink all over her, just as the man she had been studying leapt up to eagerly 'lend a hand'. Turning back to her wet clothes, she gave a sharp intake of breath before swallowing what was left of her pride.

"I am fine. Or I will be, once I am dried." She let out a sigh, her tone as flat and strict as could be. Alassë desperately tried to subdue forward questioning and interrogation of either of them - an action that was clearly pushing itself foremost in her mind - and deal with the problem at hand.

She knew there wouldn't be other clothes she could change into, and delicately took the handkerchief from the man. "Thank you," she muttered under her breath, begin to dab away at the seemingly endless ale.

[Folwren]

Dick was mortified and utterly speechless. The man who had supposed to serve came to lend him a hand to his feet. Dick was practically picked up and set upright before Elorn turned towards the elf. The man offered his assistance to making her comfortable again.

Dick was still aghast with embarrassment and a feeling of utter clumsiness and stupidity.

He heard the elf reply shortly to Elorn’s offered help, taking his handkerchief and beginning to dab up ale.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick began to splutter out. “I’m so sorry. I’ll run and fetch a towel. I’m so sorry.” Still repeating the words, he hurried away to the kitchen. Tollers and Gable and Cella were there, but he hardly spotted them as he made directly for the towel drawer and pulled out one of them and hurried right back out again.

“Here you are,” arriving again at the scene of the accident. “That will help you more. I am so sorry. Can I offer you anything?”

Looking truly repentant as he offered her the tea-towel, Dick hoped nothing worse would come from her. It was an awful mistake, and the fact that he would happen to trip for once in his life, with a full mug of ale in his hands, right in front of a new customer was too great to fully accept immediately.

[Firefoot]

"You stay out of this, Gable," snapped Cela, taking a passing notice as Dick hurried in, grabbed a towel, and dashed out again. She turned back to Tollers. "I don't see how helping yourself to the pie has anything to do with keeping the youngsters out of trouble - just the opposite, I'd say you're setting a very bad example for them!"

Tollers at least had the grace to look slightly abashed but offered up no words of explanation. Cela couldn't see any excuses that she would accept, anyhow. "Now you get on back out there and do your job like you're supposed to. Master Dick's looking mighty frazzled, and cleaning up spills is your job more than his. And you, too, Gable; I don't need any help in here. Both of you, out!"

The pair quickly obliged, leaving Cela alone in the kitchen. She shook her head. She was the cook, not the disciplinarian - truth be told, a disciplinarian ought not to be much needed around here, but that was such a false statement that Cela nearly laughed out loud. "Now let's see what we can do about that pie," she muttered to herself. She took a knife and cut off the edges where Tollers had fooled with the pie and irascibly tossed out those scraps. All told, at least a quarter of the pie had been wasted, and the common room seemed to be filling up quickly, from the sounds of it. Done is done, she told herself, and set the pie back on the shelf. There's other work to do.

[Child of the 7th Age]

"So? So what?" Tom stared down at his precious treasure and then grinned defiantly at his older sister. After that he snatched up the key with his right hand and began swinging it back and forth just an inch away from Daisy's noise, while continuing to talk, "Anyways, Lil is right. Nothing's happening here. Just some old gammers sawing away at each other. I'm bored. I want to go on an adventure. A real adventure doing things we've never done. This could help us. It really could. Who knows what we would find? Maybe a magic sword or a piece of treasure."

"But that's not yours." one of the siblings objected. "It's one of Master Dick's keys. He carries them on the big iron ring."

Tolman was quick to offer an explanation, "Yes, Master Dick has lots of different keys. He just didn't want this one. He left it sitting in a little basket on the top of the bar. I was trying to help him tidy up the room so I stuffed it in my pocket. That way, it won't bother anyone."

Tom stuffed the key back in the pocket of his knickers and ofered his grimy hand to his younger sister. "Come on, Lil. You lead the way and we'll all follow. I know the key is to the rooms that are just off the common area. It's the same hallway that has the stairs that lead down to the cellar. I think this might even open the cellar door. We can check that out later. Meanwhile, let's all have some fun. We'll find lots of candy to eat and maybe some other nice things." He pulled his sister up on her feet and then stared around at the others. "Well, are you coming, or are you just going to sit here like a bunch of dolts?"

[Folwren]

Lil had no question but to do as her older brother asked her to. He had always had her unswerving devotion and taking a kea wasn’t going to shake it. She didn’t question whether or not he had been wrong. Tom couldn’t be wrong. He was too smart to do that. He never got in trouble, he was so smart, except a few times.

She reached out for his hand and hopped up from her chair. He mentioned that candy might be found when they used the key to get into the rooms. Candy! One of Lil’s many weak spots. Tom payed his followers (or slaves, practically) well, when they did what he wanted. If the yield was good this time, Lil had no doubt she’d be rewarded.

Off she went, Tom’s hand holding onto hers, leading the way back into the hall from which they had just come. Hamilcar, a brother just a year older than Lil, came just behind. Next came Iris, and last of all, dragged most reluctantly by the hand, came Daisy, pronouncing prophecies of doom and destruction, but coming just the same.

Lil finally stopped, nearly half way down the hall, before a promising looking door (although it looked just the same as all the others). “Try this one,” she said, stepping back and looking at Tom.

[mormegil]

Kuric moved with speed that belied his massive girth, slamming his right hand down on the driving his metal spikes into the table splintering some of the wood on the table. Gripping his mace firmly in his left, he set his face within inches of Aranholt and through his gritted he managed to speak,

“Ye don’t speak enough and when ye do ye speak the wrong things, if ye can’t speak then don’t sit with me. I’m tired as it is and then you come and annoy me with your prying questions, I’ll warn you once, if ye do it again there won’t be much left of ye to send back to wherever yer from.”

With that he quickly spun on heels, hefted his pack onto his back and began marching through the crowd of people towards the hallway that would lead to his room. He longed for rest; it had been far too long since he had slept in a proper bed, and oft times the hard rock was his bed and the stars his ceiling. This was, after all, a dwarf who, despite his adventurous spirit, was brought up in relative luxury living with the thriving colony of dwarves living under the lonely mountain.

“I’ll be in my room if anybody needs me, though I don’t expect THAT to happen.”

With the emphasis placed on ‘that’ Kuric thought it should be obvious that he did not, under any circumstances want to be disturbed. His interactions in the common room had put him in a foul mood, and despite the ale coursing through him he wasn’t pleased. First, a hobbit who claimed to love adventure had falsely gotten his hopes up and then some young ruffian was asking about his mithril suit. He would need to be on his guard. With that thought in mind he climbed the stairs clutching his mace and making certain that everybody around knew that he had it with him.

Arriving at the entrance to the hallway he turned to glance all in the common room, taking stock of all the new comers. He saw the keeper of the inn busily mopping up a mess he had made. Normally, the sight of an elf in such a plight would have been the cause of great mirth and amusement but even now he couldn’t enjoy such a scene.

“Durned elf, probably deserved it anyway”

He left with that imagine stuck in his head, hoping that it would allow him to be in a bit better mood. He found his room in short order, and true to his word Tollers had given him a rather large room, he would have to ‘thank him’ Kuric thought, which usually meant giving him a little coin.

Kuric immediately sat on the bed and began removing his boots. Placing his ring and necklace on the table in front of him and placing his pack on the ground on the other side of the bed, he lied down, still fully armor clad when he realized that he had better wash up a bit. Putting his boots back on he trudged off down the hallway to the washroom, making sure to lock his door and bring his mace, he could ill afford to be unarmed with such ruffians about as he had just encountered.

[MaskedNicci]

The innkeeper continued sputtering his apologies, rushing off and fetching a towel to aid in her half-hearted clean up. He asked if he could offer her anything, looking dazed.

Alassë tried to refrain from any harsh insults she could throw at the innkeeper, deciding that to try and appear friendly would be the easiest way to find out more of this strange coincidence. Perhaps the innkeeper and the man were in a secret society, and they were going to tactfully interrogate her and find out if she was an enemy figure. Trying to offer a smile through clenched teeth, she murmured. "Oh, it's quite alright. I don't melt, good sir. Just something to drink would be nice. What would be even better, would be if I didn't take it all over. Keeping it in a cup would be just grand."

Mentally rebuking herself for a failing in her attempted guise of behaviour, Alassë gave out a tight-lipped sort of sound to resemble a laugh. "No harm done." She said, looking sideways at the stranger she had been inspecting upon entry, and she held up his handkerchief. "May I make arrangements for this to be cleaned, before I return it?"

[Forest Elf]

Gable sighed; she wasn’t even going to of had a piece of pie. Sometimes cook got on her nerves. When would cook learn to stop making assumptions? Doesn’t cook know by now that I don’t take baked goods, just a plain apple or a slice of older bread when I'm hungry before meals? Gable wondered to herself as she watched a leaf floating on the breeze out the window. She sat down at an empty table and closed her eyes. She put her hands on top of each other and laid her forehead down on them. She needed to think things through, though why she did though, she didn’t know.

Whose locket is that? Why are the wolves attacking? It doesn’t make sense…why would wolves attack the Inn? Why did they come and attack in the first place? What if Tollers was right and there is a hole in the Hedge? Or what if something is driving them mad enough to make them this desperate? Does it have something to do with the pony’s owner’s disappearance? Or does it have to do with one of the customers here? at the Inn?

Gable sighed…so many questions that couldn’t be answered. If she kept this up she would be getting a headache. Maybe I should take another look around the area where I found the pony…there has to be some sign of the owner, or tracks that I missed since it was dark and I can see better now that its light out. Then she began troubling herself with the question of, Should I bring someone along to help or not?

[Finduilas]

Elorn felt like laughing when the clearly ruffled Elf offered to have his handkerchief cleaned. He refrained from doing so, knowing that it probably wouldn’t improve her present state of mind.

“No thanks, ma’am. It won’t be necessary,” he replied as he took it back.

Once he had wrung out his handkerchief and returned in to his pocket, he stood, wondering what he should do. The Elf didn’t seem in the mood to talk, but he didn’t feel it would be very nice of him to leave her, seeing as she was still soaked, and in bad humor. Elorn sincerely wished that either the Elf or the landlord would help him out of this awkward situation.

[ElentariGreenleaf]

Lynaata sat on a low wall just outside a town of which she did not know the name. By the look of the place, he was a hobbit's town. Lyn wasn't entirely sure why she was sitting on that wall. She was desperate to buy more supplies, but at the same time she was nervous. Hobbits were such lovely folk, and she felt incredibly conscious of her tatty appearance. What would people think of her? Her boots were too large, and her dress was faded, and that was how she had looked before she left Bree. Now her boots and the skirt of her dress were caked with mud from her time travelling. Her hair was full of knots and the odd burr, as she had often hidden in the bushes on the road side if ever a horse rode past from the direction of Bree. Rowan had been offered a large dowry to take her for his bride, and she doubted he'd let that opportunity pass him by easily. The Inn Rowan had inherited verged on the edge of debt, as it was not in the best location on the outskirts of Bree and the Prancing Pony attracted most of the business in the town.

In the end Lyn's stomach won. She was hungry, as her remaining food was either stale or mouldy. She took out a coin purse and counted out her gold. She had stolen as much as she could from Rowan, but he only kept a small amount out of his locked moneybox for day to day business in the Inn. She had enough for now, but eventually she would need to find work, or learn to hunt. The idea sickened her.

As she wandered through the town, Lyn admired the Hobbit architecture. It was odd to her seeing doors in the sides of hills or the odd chimney poking out of the ground. She had never been to such a place as this before. The Hobbits were no bigger than human children, and if they had their backs to her, Lyn could quite easily mistake them for so.

Eventually Lyn found what she had been looking for - before her stood an Inn. The sign read "The Golden Perch Inn". Lyn smiled to herself, glad she had found an Inn here that was designed to accommodate humans as well as Hobbits. She stepped through the round door, ducking as the door was still more Hobbit sized than human. The Inn instantly struck her as a welcoming, homely place. Well, what she imagined other people to consider homely, as she hoped it was nothing like her home. She went to the counter and ordered a beer, handing over some of Rowan's gold with a large smile. He would feel the sting of the amount of gold Lyn took being stolen, that was for certain. Lyn hoped Rowan slipped into debt and his Inn closed. He deserved everything bad that would happen to him.

As Lyn went to find a table to sit at, she noticed a beautiful woman mopping her elegant dress with a handkerchief. Lyn studied the woman for a moment. She had never seen a woman with such grace before. When the woman had finished her attempt at drying her dress she brushed her long hair behind back from her face, revealing a pointed, very much elven ear. An elf! Lyn had never seen an elf before. For a moment she stood staring at the elf, until she noticed people had begun giving her funny looks.

Lyn found a table near window, from which she could both admire the town and study the elf. She felt almost happy while she sat there. She could tell things were taking a turn for the better for her.

[Folwren]

“No, I'm guess it's good that you don't melt...A drink,” Dick repeated. “By all means. Yes, I’ll keep it off you. Yes, in the cup would be marvelous. A drink...a drink at once,” and still muttering, he pattered off once more behind the counter. He drew for the elf the finest brew they had, and then, placing it momentarily on the counter, darted back into the kitchen.

“Cela, dear,” he said, panting and out of breath, “do you mind serving something nice? Pie! Is it fresh? Will you put a large slice on a plate? And start some tea. Be quick, now!” And he went out again as quick as a humming bird. He picked up the mug and started on his way back across the room. He slowed to a careful walk as he approached the elf and the man and set it gently on the table before her.

“There you are, ma’am,” he said. “Again, I’m very sorry. Is there anything else I can offer? I’m having the cook get you some tea and a slice of her fresh pie. I hope that will amend matters some. Oh, sir!” he cried out suddenly. “I forgot to get you another mug full. I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.” And so saying, he was off once more.

[Tevildo]

Daisy held her breath as her brother inserted the key in the lock, slowly turned it, and pushed the door open. The children trooped into the room, with Lil leading the way. After that, they began to rummage through the satchels and drawers, inspecting the belongings of the occupants. "Some of the big folk!" whispered Tom triumphantly as he drew out two pairs of oversize heavy boots from the closet and tried them on one at a time.

Daisy sat miserably in the corner and refused to join her siblings in the general pillaging, squirming uncomfortably while glaring at her brother. Tom was always going off on some madcap scheme, but this did not feel like a prank. It felt downright uncomfortable. Daisy kept hearing echoes of her mother in her ear. saying how disappointed she was that her children were acting just like young ruffians. The young lass wished she was anywhere but here. She even considred running out the door and back down the corridor and then going to the room to speak with her mother. But the others would never forgive her. And, as much as she wanted to do what was right, she did not want to face the disapproval of her brother. He would never forgive her if she ratted on him.

The children were sitting cross legged in the middle of the room and were inspecting the trinkets that they had managed to pilfer. Despite Tom's assurance that they would turn up many treasures and jewels, their pickings looked extremely thin. There were several farm implements tossed in the middle of the circle, along with a few vest coats and a somewhat withered looking apple. Several of the younger ones were grumbling to Tom about not finding any candy or goodies.

Daisy stood up and went over to the door, pushing it slightly ajar. She squinted through the crack and surveyed the hall from one end to another. She saw one of the dwarves stamp through the corridor carrying an interesting assortment of weapons plus an oversized satchel. He stopped in front of one room and disappeared inside, closing the door firmly behind him. An interesting thought flashed across the girl's mind: where there were dwarves, there was always treasure. Daisy had always been told that it wasn't right to steal candies or pennies. But no one had ever mentioned anything about treasure: coats of armor, axes, swords, or sparkling piles of jewels and gold. In the stories ma told, there were always little boys and girls who made off with such marvelous things, and nobody scolded them when they returned home. She expected that removing things from a dwarf's bedroom wasn't too different than taking them from a dragon's lair. Squinting intently down the hall, she saw the door open again and the dwarf leave, bearing only a large mace in his hand.

Turning to the others, she proudly exclaimed, "You ninnies. If you want real treasure, you can't go into the room of some old farmer. You'll just get junk. You must find a warrior and treasure hunter. And I happen to know where there is one." She motioned for them to join her at the doorway. "You see right there...that room. I just saw a dwarf go inside and then leave. He was carrying weapons and a big bag, probably filled with gold and jewels that he stole from some dragon. I think most of it is still in the room. Let's go there and hunt for treasure." Daisy snatched up the key where Tom had laid it down on the table and indicated that the others should follow her. The children slipped out into the hallway. They left the room behind them a horrible mess, with nothing missing but things strewed everywhere across the bed and floor.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Tom sprinted to the head of the line and bumped Daisy to the side so he could be the first to reach the doorway. In an instant he had inserted the key in the lock and pushed back the door, beckoning the rest to follow. The others trooped in behind him and began scouring the chamber from top to bottom, opening drawers and inspecting under the bed. It did not take long for Tom to find what he was searching for. There, sitting on the nightstand in full view of them all, was an intricately woven torque with narrow twisted bands crafted of bright gold. Right next to it, Tom saw a ring of gold with three bold stones in a straight row.

Tom reached down and picked up the ring, carefully inspecting the jeweled piece while cradling it in his hands. The stones caught the sunshine that poured in through the window, flashing bright in their glory: a ruby glowing red; an emerald green as a sward of grass following an afternoon rain; and, in the middle, brightest of all, a generous sized diamond that gleemed and sparkled like a brook of running water. The piece was so beautiful that it took away Tom's breath, and he was not a hobbit lad who was easily impressed. The others ran over to where their brother was standing and crowded in to see what he had found.

"Treasure, it's treasure for sure," Tom exclaimed with excitement holding out the ring. "Probably stolen from a dragon or taken from an Elf lord in battle. This dwarf is too greedy....to steal both a necklace and a ring! We'll have better manners than him. Let's leave the gold necklace here but rescue this poor ring." He slipped it inside his vest pocket.

One of the younger children ran to the door and began to open it to go out into the hall, but Tom sprinted over and yanked the offender back. "No! Too dangerous!Someone might see us. We have to escape without anybody noticing and find a place to hide our treasure." Tom thought for a moment and then pointed directly at the window. "We can climb through to the outside here. There's a path through the garden with lots of bushes so no one can see. It leads to the other side of the Perch, straight to the trap door with steps down into the cellar. That's a perfect place to hide treasure." He glanced around at the others, "Come on. Hurry! We don't want to get caught here."

[Folwren]

Lil stood transfixed by the table. She was so short by it, that her eyes barely came above it. She stood on tiptoe to hook her chin over the top, so that she could look at the torque more easily. Her brother took the ring, but that was small and insignificant to her. She heard as though in a distance her brother advise against leaving by the door. She understood his plan to escape by window, but she made no movement.

Slowly, her fingers reached out and closed around the heavy, gold piece and she drew it back to herself and stared at it.

“Come on. Hurry!” came Tom’s pressuring voice. “We don’t want to get caught in here!”

Lil, smiling a small, delighted smile, and holding the torque in both hands, turned slowly to obey. But then the sound of heavy clumping boots could be heard in the hall outside. Her head jerked upwards in alarm, the smile was dashed off of her face. She stuffed the torque into her apron pocket and darted towards the window. In a moment, she was out, and the next moment, Tom was out after her.

[Newsman]

Horse and rider entered into the courtyard of The Golden Perch Inn after a hard day's ride. The rider's face was obscured by the hood of his dark travelling cloak, yet he deftly swung from the back of his horse, and handed the reins off to the boy who came from the stables, along with a silver coin for the trouble. He took a quick glance around before entering into the Inn.

Vehil slipped silently to a table without drawing to much attention to himself. The less attention he got at the moment the better. He was a tall, fair-skinned elf with the dark-brown hair characteristic of his family. He hailed from Lothlorien, the golden wood. He ordered a drink from a passing Hobbit, who squeaked out a reply. Vehil began to nervously thumb the long knife that hung from his side. A drink was what he needed to calm his nerves, and let him think clearly.

Where am I gonna begin? he thought. He glanced around for a sign, anything that would show him where to begin. The hobbit put the ale in front of him, and Vehil stared into its contents. Better just wait here and see what happens."

[mormegil]

Kuric carefully inspected himself in the polished metal mounted to the wall, only then did he realize how long it had been since he had taken a proper bath. After carefully weighing all option Kuric decided it best to give his face a good cleaning, at least that way it would be some time before he would need a bath. Dipping both hands in the basin of water he began to forcefully rub his wet hands all over his face in an attempt to clean himself. Having taken no real thought on the matter of properly cleaning himself, Kuric merely smeared the built up dirt and grime about his face, due, in no small part, to the fact that his hands were filthier than his face, though it did help to calm down the infuriated dwarf to a small degree.

Realizing how infuriated he was, Kuric decided it best to properly calm down before heading off for his much needed nap. He placed his wet hands on the counter and leaned into it, helping take some of the weight of his body and gear off his feet. Taking some deep breaths while closing his eyes, though one could hardly tell that his eyes were closed at all as they were seldom seen covered by shadow and a thick brow, brought some much needed calm to him and he finally felt ready to go back to his room.

With a slower and less determined stride than when he made his way down the hall, Kuric made his way back the other way to his room. Despite not being as angry, Kuric’s weight combined with his heavy boots caused the floor boards to creak and groan whenever he walked. Stealth had never been a part of any tactics Kuric employed and would never be able to be part of it, particularly as Kuric had an uncouth habit, owing to his much time spent alone, muttering to himself while he walked. Nothing really important was ever said, mainly gibberish, curses, and maledictions on his current plight, no matter what situation he found himself.

Entering his room, Kuric immediately went and sat himself down on his bed and slowly began to remove his heavy boots. It had been more than a fortnight since their last removal and a rather pungent odor accompanied upon completion of this task. Sniffing the air Kuric mumbled while chuckling to himself, ‘perhaps I should have washed them up too’. Setting the boots aside, Kuric stood and began arranging the bed coverings to his liking. When Kuric began removing his spiked glove to place on the desk where he had placed his ring and necklace that is when he noticed it. Few things could upset Kuric as rapidly and as much as theft. His ring had gone missing, not only his ring but his prized ring at that, though he spoke of such treasures to few, this was a special gift to him from his Uncle Dain, while it wasn’t technically true that King Dain was Kuric’s uncle, Kuric saw little harm in embeleshing the truth just a bit in his favor. Such treasures that are bestowed by a king, such as this ring, were worth more than a small fortune. The wealth of the ring didn’t matter to Kuric as much as the simple fact that it was stolen from him and also owing to the fact of the honor it was to receive such a gift. He had received it for distinguished service to King Dain. Stories abound of dragons’ greed and there hate of theft of their goods, and while these accounts are mainly true, Kuric’s abhorrence of theft from his property rivaled that of the most odious dragon.

He, in an instant, felt his body get hot and lost all rational thought. Quickly grabbing his mace, he sprinted down the hallway heading towards the commons area. In his rush, his mace was flailing wildly, hitting the wall in the hallway, causing many scratches and dents. When he arrived at the entrance to the commons area he let out a terrible yell and smacked the corner of the wall with his mace forcefully splintering the wood and causing a sizeable piece of the corner to break off. With narrowed eyes and a furious scowl, Kuric yelled again, only this time words came out.

“TOLLERS! TOLLERS! Ya said that ye were up fer adventure, grab a weapon lad, we 'ave some thieves and ruffians to hunt!”

With that he sprinted down the stairs directly towards Dick the inn keeper. Few men in Middle-earth could stop Kuric mad and in a dead sprint and even fewer would try. Upon reaching Dick, Kuric yelled again this time with more vehemence and anger. Spittle flying from his mouth and coating his beard he blared.

“What kind of ----- establishment are ya running here? They took me ring, they did and I’m finding ‘em, or it’ll be yer head I take next!”

[Newsman]

A yell drove Vehil to his feet hands braced, ready to draw his knives at a split second. A dwarf came running from the hallway, and grabbed the innkeeper. Vehil sprang upward and attempted to get in the way of the angry dwarf, yet the flailing mace drove him back.

"Hey I dont know whats going on, but im sure killing the innkeeper isnt going to help." Vehil slowly advanced toward the angry dwarf. "Just take it easy. I can help you find whoever took this ring of yours."

[MaskedNicci]

"Well, if you insist." She replied, watching the flummoxed innkeeper scuttle away once more. When he returned with a mug, which he offered her, then his mind switched as fast as a bumblebee on the first day when the flowers begin blooming again, and he was gone. In spite of herself, she had to give the slightest of smiles. It was a small flicker of amusement, then it vanished as quickly as it had come, and her previous look of seriousness and suspicion returned dutifully.

Alassë turned to the one who had offered her his handkerchief, and realized it was probably polite to start some conversation, as he looked a little concerned about what to do. Society rules... Her mind reeled with the possibility of herself creating smalltalk as though she trusted him. But then again, how could she convince him she was being caught in this web of deceit, without him realizing she was on to the collaboration possibly betwixt him and the bustling innkeeper?

In an attempt to appear friendly, she opened her mouth to offer some starting question to the topic of the weather, when a loud clatter interrupted her. The furious dwarf started causing a great commotion, howling about some stolen object of his. Another flicker of amusement shone in her piercing eyes. Then, she turned to good sir handkerchief-on-hand, and muttered in an almost good-natured fashion, "I can't really blame him. Looks like he's having a rough day."

Watching him curiously for a moment, she realized the alleged next step in conversation would be introduction, given the circumstances. Alassë gave a firm nod in his direction, and said, "My name is Alassë, good sir. My memory does not often fail me, but I don't believe we had the chance to be properly introduced."

[Folwren]

Dick did not possibly think that his bad day could get any worse. But he had not even returned with the man’s ale yet when a new disturbance showed up. It seemed all hell broke loose in an instant when that unreasonable, probably insane, dwarf came back into the common room, shouting at the top of his lungs as though he had lost his mind. Dick gave him an unforgiving glare, thinking to himself that he probably didn’t have any mind to loose - it was gone already. The shout had so surprised him that he had very nearly spilled this second mug of ale.

But now the dwarf came steaming towards him at full run, and the words that he bellowed right in his face did so upset poor Dick that he sloshed half of the contents of the ale onto himself. He gaped in horror at the dwarf’s furious and filthy face. The words sounded gibberish. No one ever stole anything in the Shire (except mushrooms) and it seemed even more ridiculous that he should blame it on him and his establishment.

A newly arrived elf thought so, too, apparently and stepped in with a quiet word, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure killing the innkeeper won’t help. Just take it easy. I can help you find whoever took this ring of yours.”

Dick looked from the elf to the dwarf and back again. And then he felt the wet on his shirt and looking down, he saw the partially emptied mug in his hand, and the remaining ale swaying back and forth wildly in the mug. His patience snapped and his good temper was thrown to the wind.

“Why you great, blundering, big footed, filthy faced ox!” Dick shouted back at Kuric, trying to bellow like the dwarf, but probably squeaking more like a rabbit. “Look what you’ve done!” He lifted the ale, succeeding to spill more. “It’s you that’s thieving from me, making me spill all my finest ale! Don’t come threatening to take my head - I’ll throw you out! I’ll have you arrested and locked up!”

The brief flash of rare fire faded and went out nearly as quickly as it had come. Dick realized that for the dwarf to have lost a ring was indeed a very bad thing to have happen. The ale was probably a small loss compared to such a thing, but it was a pity for him to have spoiled one of his nicest vests.

“You lost a ring, hey?” he said in a more controlled tone. “Well, don’t come yelling my head off, it wasn’t me who took it. It’s probably some prank. It’ll be returned. Just calm down and don’t kill anyone.”

[Newsman]

The hobbit's squeak caught Vehil's attention. So much emotion in one so small, few men would be fool enough to berate a maddened dwarf. Yet, here he is. Vehil did think the halfling looked comical, dripping with spilled ale, yet trying to hold his own. What ever this Dwarf lost doesn't matter at the moment. If he keeps on like this, he might really hurt somebody.

Vehil stood his ground however. This sort of thing was the last thing he needed at the moment, and the fact he was itching for a fight didn't help either. If he tried to take the dwarf down, who knew what friends he had lurking nearby? Also fighting might hurt his chances of finding any trace of who he was searching for.

"You lost a ring, hey? Well, don’t come yelling my head off, it wasn’t me who took it. It’s probably some prank. It’ll be returned. Just calm down and don’t kill anyone.” Little hobbit was obviously scared back to his senses as he addressed the dwarf. So it's a ring eh? Vehil thought. He quickly weighed his options, and realized that he had come too far to go back now. Resting one hand on a long-knife at his side, he braced himself. "Take a deep breath, and calm down. If someone took it, we'll find them. You have my aid." Vehil paused and waited for a reply.

[Firefoot]

Cela was startled by the sound of shouting coming from the Common Room, enough so that she nearly dropped the knife she was using to cut another slice of pie at Dick's request. Normally she would not have become involved in such arguments; Dick, she supposed, was quite capable of handling unruly patrons himself. But when the second shouting voice she heard belonged to Dick, she knew that there was trouble and dashed out into the Common Room.

"Now none of this!" she began to declare, but realized that Dick's flare of temper, at least, had faded, although his vest was dripping with ale. The Dwarf in front of him, however, was still red-faced and heaving, and it was he that Cela addressed as she came out and stood by Dick, lightly resting her hand on his shoulder as if to further calm him. "Now don't you go talking that way about Master Dick! His is a perfectly respectable inn, and I'm sure there's some misunderstanding. What's this about? A ring, I heard? A small item, then, and one easily misplaced. I'm sure this is all simply a misunderstanding."

For all her small stature, Cela was an imposing figure when she wanted to be, and as she made her closing point, she realized that she had never set down the knife she had been using to cut the pie and had been shaking it about in the air just as she had earlier used her spoon to scold Tollers. "Now, there'll be no more raised voices in here - I'm assuming you are all quite capable of behaving like gentlemen?"

[Finduilas]

Elorn felt sorry for the innkeeper, but wasn’t worried about his well-being. He was happy that an elf had gotten up to help him, but it didn’t occur to Elorn that an elf probably wouldn’t improve the dwarf’s state of mind. But even if the elf didn’t improve the dwarf’s temper, it looked as if the hobbit could take care of him, even though he did squeak.

His thought returned to the female elf beside him when she addressed him.

“No, we weren’t properly introduced,” he replied, “ Unless you considered a mug of ale an introduction. My name’s Elorn, at your service. It appears that tempers are rising today. I had thought that the Shire would be a peaceful country, but I guess the variety of races causes friction.”

He wished to cheer Alassë, but as he said this it occurred to him that she may take what he just said as a personal insult. He sincerely hoped she wouldn’t, but thought the less said, sooner mended.

[Tevildo]

post for Tollers

Tollers had had a rough day. It seemed that everything was going wrong. He had tried to stay out of all the yelling and the highjinks, remaining in the background and quietly doing his job. He looked up in alarm as Master Dick exploded. It wasn't like the Innkeeper to get so upset at a guest, even an unreasonable one such as this pushy dwarf. Perhaps the fellow had misplaced his ring and would find it sitting on his nightstand or tucked inside his satchel. After all, the Innkeeper had a point. The Perch wasn't the kind of place where folk went around lifting things that didn't belong to them. In fact Tollers couldn't remember a single time when someone had actually stolen anything other than a hungry hobbit making off with a piece of pie that Cook had left sitting in a tempting place.

No, he'd best ignore all this and be off to work. He had to take some blankets to a room that was located in the same hallway where the Dwarf was staying. His fingers slipped inside his pocket as he searched for the key. Then he remembered. He had set the key down behind the serving counter in the little basket that Master Dick had put there for the convenience of the serving folk. Tollers went back to get the key and reached down into the basket. To his surprise, the basket was empty. He scratched his head in puzzlement and frustration. "I know that key was here earlier this morning," he muttered in frustation to himself. He searched everywhere behind the counter, thinking the key might have dropped out, but did not find anything.

A horrible thought came over him. What if the key was somehow connected with the dwarf's ring missing. He didn't want to be the one to point this out, but thought he had better say something. The Innkeeper might be extremely perturbed with him if he neglected to say anything.

He raised his voice and announced, "Excuse me. Sorry to but in, but it seems we've got another problem. The key that sits in the basket behind the counter has apparently grown wings and flown away. I know I saw it there earlier today and now it's completely gone." He was careful not to raise his voice so that Cela would not chastise him.

post for Daisy

As the children sprinted around the courtyard, they were soon stopped in their tracks. The loud noises coming from inside could be clearly heard through one of the open windows. Daisy stopped to listen. First, there was the dwarf bellowing out his anger about having been robbed. Then there was the Master Innkeeper also sounding infuriated and Cela trying to calm things down.

Daisy looked over at her brothers and sisters and exclaimed, "We're in for it. Can't you hear what's going on. That dwarf is going to take his axe to whoever stole his Ring." She glared directly at Tom, "I hope you have a plan up your sleeve to get us out of this one!"

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Alright, alright! I'll come up with something. Just let's get into the cellar. Hold your tongue for a minute so I can think."

By this point, they had reached the old wooden door. Beneath it was a series of steps that led downward into the basement of the Inn. Tom leaned over and grabbed the handle of the trap door, bracing his feet and tugging in an attempt to get it to budge. For a long moment nothing happened. The children stood wide eyed, saying nothing as they imagined the terrible moment when Kuric would come storming up and catch them out in the open with his Ring.

"Come help me now," Tom called out to Daisy who quickly stepped forward and latched onto the other side of the long bar.

"One-two-three," he panted, "then we'll both tug at the same time."

With one long and determined pull, the hinges creeked in protest, and the door slowly gave way. Tom peered into the stairwell. It was black as night. The steps diappeared into what looked like a large empty hole.

"All right. Everyone be careful. Go slowly and hold each other's hands" Tom closed the trap door behind them and then pushed to the front of the line. The others filed along in back of him. The lad desperately wished he had brought a torch with him. But there was no torch and not the faintest glimmer of light. The children slowly made their way forward in the darkness.

[Elfchick7]

Suddenly the door burst open to reveal an elf-maid.

"Innkeeper," she cried, "I need a room for the night."

The elf-maid, Luriniel, noticed the tense energy of the room. It seemed to her that there was an unresolved conflict amongst the room's occupants. As she continued observing those persons in the room, her eyes caught those of another elf.

For a moment, she thought that he seemed familiar. In fear that he might know her, she dropped her gaze. Still having no response from whoever the innkeeper might be, Luriniel spoke again, "Speak up, if you are the keeper of this inn. My sister is wounded and she urgently needs shelter."

[MaskedNicci]

The man looked quite content to create this useless small-talk, Alassë realized. He charmingly introduced himself as Elorn, and offered her is services in the traditional fashion.

“It appears that tempers are rising today." He said cordially, "I had thought that the Shire would be a peaceful country, but I guess the variety of races causes friction.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, then shrugged it off in a nonchalant fashion. "I suppose it does. Personally, I find myself of in indifference to the races. Naturally, I think my own most capable, as is custom. But I will not deny that our differences make us stronger." She peered curiously at him, speaking slowly. "There are bad eggs in every batch, or so they say. It is less about the traditions of the race as a whole, and more about the individual choices we make. It is good to meet you, Elorn. Or, as my race would say, Saesa omentien lle." The familiar phrase fell from her lips easily, but she refrained from changing much of the subject to herself or her native language.

Looking around to give introduction to her change of topics, she said, "I have seen hobbits before, but not much - they always seem to surprise, do they not? One minute, they are of the most cordial and amiable nature. The next, they are fierce and condemning, even though it seems impossible for such a race to strike fear into another." As she had continued to look around the Golden Perch as she spoke, she caught sight of a rough-dressed girl sitting by the window, apparently watching her. Feeling her skin tingle, she tensed, watching the female.

[mormegil]

Kuric looked at the new arrivals hatefully, especially the elf. Reason had fled his mind and now he was drunk with rage, the elf only complicated the problem. He didn’t understand what was being said to him, all he knew, for the moment, was that his ring was missing and nobody was going to do anything about it.

Something held him together and kept him from attempting to kill the three in front of him, but just kept him at bay. Kuric couldn’t comprehend why everybody wasn’t shocked at his news and knew that he must find the thieves alone. Scanning the room quickly he realized that the thief or thieves knew the value of the treasure they had stolen ergo had left the necklace, while fairly valuable in its own right it paled in comparison to the worth of the ring. They would be smart enough to not stay in the commons area. Kuric thought. “Bah!” Kuric spat, “A pox on all of ya here, I’ll go an’ find ‘em meself”.

Just as Kuric began to move to run outside he caught a glimpse of Tollers coming up to Dick and began to speak to him. Kuric finally thought that he had an ally and was about to run outside thinking his new comrade would be following. As he made his move he hesitated when an elf-maiden burst in to the inn calling for something, Kuric didn’t bother to pay attention and was too concerned with his own affairs to care. Roughly pushing the nosey elf and the unconcerned inn keeper aside, knocking poor Dick down, Kuric began to spring toward the door. “Move out of me way,” Kuric yelled as he made his way for the door, he would run the elf-maid over if it came to it so bent on getting his ring back and making them pay for the theft.

[Elfchick7]

Luriniel stepped aside when she realized that the dwarf would walk through to get to the door. He looked very a angry and seemed, to her eyes, under the affects of a strong ale.

Not sure what to make of the situation, Luriniel moved toward the window to see that the grumbling dwarf brought no harm to her wounded sister, who sat outside. Seeing that Nienna was alright, the elf-maid turned back to face the persons in the commons.

Luriniel continued waiting and watching, as she was uncertain as to what her next action should be.

[Folwren]

Dick heard the female elven voice speak from behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. His attention was fixed on the dwarf, and until Kuric had made up his mind as to whether he was going to murder them all or calm down, Dick wasn’t prepared to turn his back for a moment.

But Kuric only paused briefly, before pushing forward, with a rough curse which included them all. He brushed by the elf with his hand, but Dick received the full force of his shoulder and the innkeeper couldn’t keep his footing. He tumbled to the ground, sending the ale spinning from his hand, and for a moment, he lay as though he would not rise again. Cela was by him instantly, but she had hardly begun to offer him help to his feet when he struggled back up by himself, his face red with indignation.

Kuric had left the inn. He was visible outside the open door. Standing just within it stood the elf, asking for aid. Dick stood, trembling with trapped anger and the attempt to keep it down, unsure of what he should do. His mind tumbled over itself as he tried to remember what Tollers had said, and what the new elf had said, and he also tried to decide what he should do. Should he go after the dwarf, or should he leave him be. Should he let sheriff Woolyfoot know that there was an irate and insane dwarf on the loose? Should he actually patronize Kuric, and apologize, tell him the ring would be found again and restored to him, and the thief punished. Punished? For heaven’s sake, he didn’t even know who stole it.

Toller’s words became clear instantly. He remembered now and before he spoke to the new elf, he turned his eyes towards the young hobbit. A key was missing? Which key was it? No questions now, there was someone to be seen to. He walked forward towards the elf still standing in the doorway, uncertain of what she should do.

“I am so sorry,” he said apologetically. “What may I do for you? A room? Certainly. . . And you have a sister?”

[Folwren]

The shouting upset Lil terribly. It upset Iris as well and the two girls drew close together, their hands clasped, and their eyes were wide. Daisy and Tom led the way, running across the garden and courtyard. Dimple, the brother just older that Lil, came behind, making sure the two girls stayed up with the older kids.

At the heavy cellar door they stopped, and Tom struggled to lift it for a moment. He could not do it alone and Daisy stepped forward. The three others stood in terrified silence, waiting with baited breath, and hoping terribly that the dwarf wouldn’t leave the inn before they had time to escape.

With a great heave, the two oldest siblings got the door open. Tom herded the others on before him, down into the darkness, and then shut the door behind him. None of them thought about the difficulty they had had while attempting to open the door - no one considered that opening it from beneath would be even more difficult.

A new danger and fright met them. As the door closed above them, utter and complete darkness closed in around them. They had no light, and after reaching the bottom of the steps and going forward some, no light could reach them from the small cracks in the wooden door. They pressed ahead, all the same. They all felt the danger of being caught by that dwarf, and that fear drove them on, even when the fear of the darkness would have held at least Lil and Iris back.

Lil herself was becoming very sorry for their prank. Stealing from a dwarf may not be wrong, but it was dangerous. Tom had earlier compared a dwarf’s treasure to a dragon's, and he had been surprisingly near the mark. A dragon could scarcely have become as angry as Kuric had over a lost treasure. It had never occurred to her that the dwarf might become so infuriated. Now they were down underground with no light. It was cold and damp down here and it didn’t feel clean. Tom continued to lead them on, but Lil had already lost track of direction.

“Tom?” Lil’s voice wavered and trembled in the darkness. “Tom, I’m scared. Let’s go back.”

[Finduilas]

It appeared that Alassë was cooling down, until a girl in the inn caught her attention by staring at her. Elorn saw the elf go ridged, and her eyes harden. Elorn wondered what made her so non-trusting, but, it not being his business, he decided to keep his nose out of it.

Another female elf bursting in at the door added to the general excitement of the room. When the dwarf finally stormed out of the room the innkeeper went to greet her. Elorn saw that the innkeeper was in need of a rest, so he wondered if he should go help.

“I’ll be right back, ma’am,” he said turning to Alassë, “it appears the landlord may need help, so please excuse me for a moment.”

Elorn approached Dick and the tired looking elf, and offered his services.

[Newsman]

Vehil watched the angry dwarf leave. He smelled the ale on the dwarf's breath and was thankful no one had been hurt. Vehil moved his hands away from his knives and allowed himself to relax, if only for the moment. Since the confrontation, a new elf had come in calling for a room for her wounded sister.

Well, I better go see if there is anything I can do to help. Vehil moved toward the window where the elf was standing. He hated talking to girls, he had always been bad at it. Still, Vehil took a deep breath and introduced himself to elf maid.

[Elfchick7]

Luriniel regarded the elf coolly. He seemed earnest in his desire to help but so had many others.

Without responding to his introduction with one of her own, she spoke calmly, "I thank you for your offer to help. Have you any skill with herbs? My sister has wound that is in great need of attendance." She turned the hobbit who seemed to be the innkeeper, "I will fetch my sister now, if you would be so kind to show me to a room."

Not waiting for the hobbit to answer, Luriniel walked out of the door and helped her sister stand. Together, the elves walked over to the innkeeper.

Nienna surveyed her new surroundings with caution. Her shoulder burned with pain and she winced as she moved forward. Alarmed at the sight of other elves, she turned to Luriniel questioningly. As she received no reaction, Nienna became calm once again.

[Newsman]

Well that went well. Vehil cringed as the elf-maid moved outside to bring in her sister. The wounded elf looked off guard, and somewhat helpless at first, yet seemed to calm down quickly. Vehil figured that he should probably help as much as he could.

"I do have some knowledge of my herbs, once we get her settled I can try to take a look at it if you wish." Vehil never was as good with healing as any of his other family members. But this was a maid in need, and he had to do the best he could regardless.

He took a quick glance outside and tried to find out what the crazy dwarf was doing. Vehil couldn't help but remember the last time he had been on the recieving end of a Dwarf's anger. He had been lucky to escape that one with his life. Vehil quickly snapped out of his reminiscence, there were matter to attend to now, he would deal with the past later.

[Elfchick7]

Nienna looked up at the elf who had offered to help care for her injury in wonder. She could not remember the last time someone had voluntarily offered help. His honesty helpful expression caused her to smile.

"I thank you, sir," she spoke, "it has been a long while since we have seen a friendly face. I am called Nienna and this, my sister, is Luriniel. Your help is much appreciated."

She noticed her sister's upset demeanor and thought to herself, I know that Luriniel does not think that we should trust anyone but I can't spend all of my life running from my father's sin. It is time to move on.

Giving her sister a smile of reassurance, Nienna asked, "Luriniel, where did you say our room was?"

"I am not sure." Luriniel answered. The sisters turned to the innkeeper, who, to them, seemed overwhelmed by the ruckus.

[Forest Elf]

Gable raised her head at the commotion. She sat and watched as a dwarf came down shouting and trampling around, clearly upset. She wondered what could upset the dwarf, but her ears were refusing to work, even though she was an elf. After a while of studying what was going on around her things finally clicked into place. The dwarf was missing a ring…an elf was injured and needed help.

Gable stood and walked over to the new elves. Then she taking a deep breath and said, “I can get the healer, if you wish me to. He has already helped a few around here.” She looked from one elf to the next, ready to help out. The mystery of the pony’s owner can wait, Gable thought to herself, right now the elf needs help.

[Elfchick7]

Luriniel turned in surprise as the new elf joined them. She had not counted on so many elves lodging at the hobbit inn. We will need to depart with haste if anyone recognizes us. It has been very long since we have had close contact with any of our kind but one can never be too careful. If we seem too friendly or too cautious they will begin to ask questions.

"Who is this healer you speak of? Of what race is he? Can he heal such a wound?" Luriniel pointed to Nienna's shoulder. Nienna pulled down her sleeve to reveal a horribly inflamed wound. The flesh all around was swollen and pink and the wound itself was dark shade purple. A rancid odor escaped from the sore and Nienna covered it once again.

[mormegil]

Kuric stomped furiously about; he had circled the building twice, including the stable, and hadn’t seen a trace of any thieves. Kuric always considered himself to be quite the tracker, a veritable ranger, though the truth was far from that. Generally Kuric tracked and hunted big oafish creatures that hardly disguised their tracks, but so caught up in his anger and self-delusion that he was convinced that since he didn’t see any evidence to the contrary that the culpable party must still be in the inn. “They’re trying ta outsmart me” Kuric chuckled. "I won't let that happen," While still furious he was glad for the excitement and loved a hunt especially one with treasure at the end, for truly is there a better treasure than recovering one’s own.

Having decided that the culprits were still in the inn, he remembered a strange elf that had jumped up and feigned to offer help to him. “That blighter, I’ll bet it’d be him that took me ring, and he’ll pay for his theft and lies.” Kuric audibly mumbled to himself.

Jogging back to the inn entrance Kuric slammed open the door again and scanned the room until he found the elf in question, Vehil by name though Kuric did not know it yet. Having found him, Kuric slung his mace over his left shoulder and yelled at him while pointing at him with his right “Elf, stay right there you’ve got to answer for what ye did.”

[Newsman]

Vehil looked up from Nienna's wound and became aware of a newcomer. The new elf offered to call a healer. "I can handle this for the moment, but calling a healer may be a good idea. This may go beyond my skill." He looked back to the wound and supressed a wince, this may be beyond his skill already.

The inn door flew open with an audible slam, and the crazed Dwarf was back. “Elf, stay right there you’ve got to answer for what ye did.” he bellowed.

Vehil looked up and saw he was the one being addressed. The mace that rested on the Dwarf's shoulder made him nervous, and his right hand drifted instinctively to one of his knives. "Master Dwarf, I have no idea what I have done to merit this accusation. But rest assured I have nothing to do with this. If you require my help, it's mine to give." He whispered to the elf who had suggested the healer. "Getting the healer here may be a good idea. Who knows what other wounds that mace will inflict."

[Child of the 7th Age]

"'Tis alright, Lil. We'll be out of this place soon enough." Tom clutched his sister's fingers and tried to sound as if he knew what he was talking about. The truth was he did not know where they were. They had been wandering around the dark passageways for over an hour, and Tom no longer knew where the trap door was, or even if they were going in the right direction. He could not see even a tiny glimmer of light. Tom put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a stick of sugar candy. He broke it into tiny pieces and gave one to each of the younger children, telling them to sit close together and have a little rest while he and Daisy straightened things out.

"Daisy. Over here." Tom tugged at his sister, trying to keep his voice as calm amd even as he could, despite the frantic thudding of his heart. The words, however, quickly came tumbling out, "I'm not even sure we're in the cellar anymore. Grampa Toby told me that the Inn was built on top of another: an old rambling burrow with dozens of hallways and tiny twisted rooms. That Inn went deep into the earth, almost like a maze. I think we may have stumbled into one of those old passage ways in the dark. The truth is I can't go back because I don't know the way."

[Folwren]

“Oh dear,” said Dick, worryingly as he watched the elves group around each other and begin inspecting the wound at once. “Oh dear me, let’s not do it here, for heaven’s sake. Gable, do run and get the doctor, if that’s who you’re talking about, with all your healer’s talk. You dwarf, quit making such a hubbub, can’t you see the lady’s injured? Here, sir,” addressing Vehil, “take her other arm and follow me.”

With instructions being thus given, Vehil took Nienna’s uninjured arm, and Luriniel supported her on the injured side, and the three of them followed Dick as he led the way to the taller side of the inn and to where the Big Folk could room. He unlocked one of the doors with his key and went in before them.

“There are clean sheets on the beds, and I’ll have water brought in at once. The doctor should be here shortly. Is there anything else I can do to help? Should I have food brought? We can set up a fine spread right here in your room, if you should so wish.”

[Elfchick7]

"Food." Luriniel said blankly. How in Arda could I have forgotten food? Nienna hasn't had a good meal in days.

She turned to the Innkeeper, "Good hobbit, food would be greatly appreciated. I thank you." Looking up at Vehil, Luriniel spoke, "What is your opinion of the wound, sir? Is there anything that you can do?"

[Newsman]

Vehil took another look at the wound and sighed. "Its bad alright, but it could be much worse. I will try my best to treat it. Maikaa..." Vehil shuddered and closed his mouth. He hoped that the other elves hadn't seen him shudder, but his brother's name caused the involuntary twitch. Where in the world could he be?

Vehil took a few herbs and crushed them before mixing them into the open wound. "So where do you hail from?" he attempted small talk to try to bring his mind away from his brother. I hope the healer gets here soon, the way the dwarf is acting, I may need him worse than Nienna.