The Golden Perch Inn

[Tevildo]

To have a buddy and go fishing on a gorgeous, sunny day..... Tollman's eyes gleemed with excitement as he puffed on his pipe and reflected on the prospect of slipping away to venture down to his beloved river. Still, the Innkeeper had been very clear that this was expected to be a heavy day with many travellers inquiring after rooms at the Inn. He couldn't just slip off in the morning and not show up to help with the serving at lunchtime. He would get himself in a pack of trouble.

Tollman was about to give his new companion a reluctant "no", when suddenly an enticing image flashed inside his head. It was a picture of a very large, fat fish. Tollman was standing on the small dock that stood behind the Inn's courtyard and was holding up that enormous fish, showing it off to the other hobbit lads and lasses, who grinned back at him admiringly.

That picture was not so entirely far fetched. Yesterday evening, the hobbit had been down by the great oak, not far from the Inn itself, just at the point where the river makes a bend, and he'd spied a gargantuan creature swimming about in the water. It was the largest fish that Tollman had ever witnessed, and it looked so incredibly enticing. If he was to bring back such a monstor brute for Cook to use in the kitchen, surely all would be forgiven.

"Well, Master Jack, this morning is a bit tight for me. I've promised to drag some tables and chairs into the Inn from the storage shed. After that, I have to help serve lunch. But the afternoon is another thing. It gets a little slow and sleepy in these parts after we clean up the dining room. I can usually manage to get away then, and no one will be the wiser, if you know what I mean. If you wait till then, I can get you more than a frypan of fish. I'll lead you over to a spot on the river where there's a monstor fish lurking in the shadows. He would feed an awful lot of hungry hobbits. If we can hook and net 'em, I imagine Innkeeper and Cook might be so grateful you'd earn yourself a free bed for at least a night or two."

"Anyways," Tollman added with a grin, "it's better to go after lunch because I can slip out two nice packet's full of Cela's excellent food and bring them along with us."

[Folwren]

Dick came back out of the kitchen smiling a little. He looked up at the hobbit standing at the bar and his smile widened, though inside his head, he scolded himself for having to have made him wait.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were here. What can I do you for you, sir?”

Madoc Sandybanks assured him it was no great trouble and told him what he wanted. Dick nodded and picked up a mug from beneath the bar. He turned briefly away to fill it.

“Well, here’s your ale, sir,” Dick said, putting the foaming mug onto the bar, “and the tea will be right out. Do you want any of those to have milk or sugar in them? You have two young ones perhaps that would like it?” His eyes twinkled as he gave him a knowing smile. His quick eye had caught the two young hobbits already - one sitting at the table with a young mother, and the other standing by old Griffo’s chair, looking deeply interested in the chess game the old gaffer played with himself.

[Forest Elf]

Gable was walking down the road, wearing boys clothes and her arrows and short bow strung over her shoulder. Gable held a lead rope to an injured pony. Her hair, that had been neatly braided before sun up, was a mess, twigs were caught in it and stray strands of hair blowing in the wind, a blob of bloody mud showed on her cheek, when the pony had reared.

Gable felt proud, her heart soaring and yet she needed to get to the stables and find Will, to get the pony nursed back to health. She moved as fast as she could along the road, with a limping pony.

She could finnally see the stables, she moved along with the pony a little faster and when she saw Will standing there with Marrigold, Gable cried out, "Will! I have a pony that needs looking after, can you take a look at her?" indicating the pony's right bloody front leg and her bloody side.

[Arry]

Will had put away the comb and brush and was just taking the nosebag off Marigold when Gable walked into the stable doorway. He stepped from the stall and fastened it carefully behind him.

‘Oh! What’s happened?’ he said, his brow furrowing as he looked from Gable’s bloody cheek to the pony she was leading. It was in worse shape than the Elf. Its front leg, on the right, was bloody. And it had blood along its flank, too. Will took the lead and brought the pony further into the stable.

He asked Gable to get some of the clean, soft rags piled in the basket by the work table and a bucket of fresh water. As she did so, he talked quietly to the pony, getting it to calm itself down.

‘Here, lass,’ he said, handing the lead back to the Elf. ‘You talk nice and calmly to her, won’t you. Keep her attention on you.’ He dipped a wadded rag into the water and began to gently wash down the pony’s leg, feeling his way along the bones and muscles as he did so.

‘How did this happen to her?’ he asked Gable as his fingers gently probed for any broken bones. ‘Did some beast attack her?’

[Folwren]

Dick returned to the kitchen briefly to tell Cella to make tea and then went back out. He cast a quick glance around, noting who was there and who all had been served. Once he was satisfied that everyone had at least something to eat or drink and looked satisfied, he left his post and made his way across to where Griffo and the young Sandybanks boy sat together.

For a moment, he stood back away from the two, watching with keen interested as the old hobbit explained to the young one how the pieces moved.

“Now you see here, laddie,” Griffo was explaining. His old, age dotted hands picked up the handsomely carved horse, “this here is a knight. He can forward two spaces and then to the right and the left one space. See that?”

“You took him to the left,” Taffy said, leaning over the board.

“You can move him any direction,” Griffo said, nodding. Dick grinned and walked towards them the last few paces.

“Good morning, Griffo!” he said, patting the old hobbit on the shoulder. “How’s the game coming this morning? I see you have a young apprentice,” he added, smiling kindly at Taffy. “Is he learning quick?”

[Forest Elf]

"You know how I like adventures and such, and I was off to find one of my oun. I was walking down the road and saw her, she was being attacked by wolf, I killed the wolf and brought her back here. . .I just wish I could've found her owner." Gable said softly, stroking the pony's muzzle.

"She still had her saddle on, but I had to take that off, it was too torn to keep and there was some of a cape stuck to the saddle. . ." Gable said, a look of sadness swept over her face for a second.

Gable watched Will finish checking the pony's injured leg, while stroking the side of the pony's neck.

[Envinyatar]

Easy now Jack, m’boy . . . don’t push!

He could almost see the calculations running through the Halfling’s mind . . . the scale tipping toward one side and then the other. Duty versus Pleasure. And then he could see that Tollers had found the balance he needed to come to a decision . . . to make a plan.

‘Well, now, I think I can work with that if you can . . . Tollers. Be fine to fish the afternoon.’ He eyed the Halfling to see if his use of his familiar name had been acceptable.

‘Speaking of that free bed and such . . .’ Jack yawned and stretched a bit. ‘I been sleepin’ rough lately and I’ve got to say now as I’m all relaxed with food in my belly and a mug of this fine ale . . . I am bone-tired.’ He looked out the window, at the ponies and carts that made there way down the road. ‘Yessir, it’s been shank’s mare for me these past few weeks.’ He took a quick sip of ale and stretched his long legs out beneath the table. ‘You wouldn’t know where I might catch a bit of a kip, would you? Just so’s I’d be nice and rested and ready to catch a few fat trout with you . . .’

[Arry]

Will’s attention was focused on the immediacy of the animal’s wounds. He nodded his head, smiling tightly, as he finished his exam of the leg. There were no broken bones. And the wounds though long and ragged edged did not cut deep into the muscles or tendons.

‘Bring my wooden chest over here, won’t you Gable? It’s there on the shelf just above the workbench.’ Will held the pony’s lead while the Elf fetched the box. ‘I think just some of this soothing ointment and a nice pad of moss against these wounds on the leg will be enough for now.’ He worked quickly, letting Gable talk soothingly to the pony.

‘Now you said something about a saddle? All torn up?’ Will glanced at Gable as he asked the question. He’d finished bandaging the leg and was now cleaning the gashes in the pony’s flank. ‘And a piece of cape?’ he went on, his head shaking at the greater depth of one of the gashes. ‘I think I’ll need to put in a few stitches to this one before we bandage it.’ ‘Hmmm . . . I wonder how bad the rider must look if his fleet footed pony suffered these sort of injuries.’

‘Here, help me spread this sticky goo on the wounds. Old Granny Bracken made it up for me. She swears the herbs and such in it will keep all sorts of ailments for bothering raw cuts like these.’ They worked in companionable silence for a while. ‘Go ahead then, Gable, and find her a nice, clean stall. Make sure she’s got water and hay to munch on and a nice thick layer of straw if she wants to lie down.’ He started to put his medicines and bandages away in the chest and clean up the mess. ‘Don’t know if she’ll let you, but she might feel more relaxed if she’ll let you brush her a bit and get the tangles and burrs out of her coat.’

[Undómë]

‘I think it's a perfect idea,’ Primrose answered. ‘Saves Will some trouble. And . . . and it's a chance to bother him about the plan. It would spoil the fun to dream up our plots and then not have him go along with the game, wouldn't it?’

‘Well, well . . .’ thought Rowan, noting the slight nervous edge to the giggle which accompanied the words. As the middle child in her parents’ brood, she had gotten quite good at reading those subtle signs and assigning some sort of meaning to them. For the most part, at least with her own family, she could be quite accurate with her assessments.

Primrose, though a friend and fellow worker, might not be as easy to read, she cautioned herself. On the one hand, Prim could be outgoing and even boisterous at times. And she was what her Gran would call a flighty lass. But this sort of new . . . shyness, she called it for want of a better word was a new development. Rowan tapped the ball of her right foot softly on the floor; an unthinking habit of hers when she was puzzling something out.

An idea dawned; one which both surprised and delighted her. The ‘game’ with Will, as Primrose had called it, suddenly took on a new focus for Rowan. It was only a game to her; she and Will were friends, indeed, but nothing beyond that in the slightest. With fresh eyes she took stock of her friend, Prim . . . looking beyond the flour dusted apron and the cheeks reddened by the heat of the oven.

‘My, my, my . . .’ she murmured, then looked away guiltily. Rowan covered her actions with an exasperated sigh. ‘You know . . . I just recalled that once I’ve finished changing the linens and tidying up, I did promise Granny Bracken I would help her turn the first of the strawberries into jam. I can’t stand her up; she’s been out early this morning I’m sure to pick them.’

She looked pleadingly toward Primrose. ‘Can you make some time to . . . well, start the game and deliver Will a basket of food?’ Rowan looked over towards Cela, too. ‘That’ll be alright, won’t it? You can spare her for a little bit, can’t you?’

[Tevildo]

"A bit of a kip, is it? Well, you're welcome to use my room, and it won't cost you a penny. The bed would be a tight fit but you can pull the coverlet onto the floor where there's a nice sheepskin rug that will do just as well as any mattress. Mind your head with the beams, and you'll do perfectly fine. The room's not locked. You'll have no trouble getting in."

Tollers stood up and wagged his finger in the direction of the fireplace, indicating to Jack that he should follow the twisting corridor that branched off at that point. He went on to explain, "That hall leads deep inside the hill. Plenty of rooms for hobbits, and also the pantries, supply rooms, and wine cellar. My room is the last one on the right just before the cellar where the beer barrels are stored. Now, I'm afraid I'll have to run. I am already behind in my work."

Tollers waved a cheery hand and sprinted off towards the kitchen where he was supposed to be washing dishes. He turned around one last time and called out to Jack, "There's cheese and biscuits in the locker at the foot of my bed. The table's a bit cluttered. I was counting out my pay last night. Just sweep the pennies into my leather pouch along with all the others and stuff the bag under my bed. That way, you'll have a nice, clear space if you decide to eat a little snack." With that final suggestion, Tollers ducked inside the kitchen and was lost from sight.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot entered the inn, humming to herself. She was late today. She would have been here earlier, if she had not spent all her morning, sewing little Tom's trowsers. That was the third time that week that one of her brothers' clothes got torn. "And I won't bother next time, to be sure of it!" she said to herself. "Wherever are those two going, that they tear their clothes so often, I can't guess. Stealing mushrooms and strawberries, I suppose. They'll end up with soon with a smaking and no mistake from one of the farmers, and serves them right!"

She went to her usual table and sat down. She looked around her with interest. She saw new guests at the inn, and also some of the Big Folk. She rubbed her hands, excited. She had always felt intrigued by other races. She was thankful that the inn was a meeting place for all sorts of people. She loved hobbits, but it was a bit dull to see the same faces every day.

Meliot looked out through the window. It was as fine a day as any could wish. The boys will be up to trouble again, she thought, they could not stay home on such a day. "Well, let mum or Poppy take care of them, for a change." she muttered, dismissing the idea of going out and looking for her brothers. She felt too comfortable to get up right now, and she also did not like to give up a day at the Golden Perch, once she was there.

[Durelin]

'An inquisitive lad,' Griffo was now finding out, had been an understatement of a thought. He had never heard so many questions fly from anyone's mouth in so short a time. Then again, it was never any good trying to keep up with young ones. That was something the gaffer had learned from his own children. And now he was getting up there in age, though he would never say it was nearing time for him to give up the ghost.

"Well, Taffy..." he eyed the hobbit boy across from him, and his eyes twinkled a bit as he watched the little hands move from piece to piece. "It's not all that hard. And you've already figured out where to start. That piece you've got now...yes, that one...that's called a pawn, and it's the simplest piece on the board. And, at least in all the times I've played, they're the pieces that go first."

Then Griffo proceeded to tell the young hobbit how each piece was moved, demonstrating as he did. He was pleased to find that the lad could keep himself still, but the gaffer did his best to keep the explanations brief. He was sure that the boy would have quite enough to amuse himself with simply knowing how each piece traveled across the board.

After he explained each piece, he allowed Taffy to move them around the board as he had been shown. The young hobbit looked to Griffo every once in a while to make sure he was doing it right, and the gaffer simply nodded and smiled in encouragement. When Taffy had full knowledge of how to move chess pieces, Griffo decided to learn some more about the boy before he risked plunging into a full lesson on chess playing that he really didn't feel he was up to instructing.

"You do whittlin', lad? You do seem to have a steady hand." He nodded thoughtfully. "I bet you could do some pieces like these justice."

[Folwren]

Dick set down two brimming mugs of ale before two of his guests, smiling his broadest. He turned away from them, wiping his hands on a towel he had picked up on his way. His eyes scanned the people in the common room, making sure everyone had everything they needed. The sweeping gaze stopped on the disappearing figure of a man slinking back through the door into the corridor running into the hill. His smile faded slowly and his eyes narrowed.

Who was that and where did he think he was going? Dick took a few steps forward. In the doorway, Jack turned his head half way over his shoulder to look back. Dick recognized the man in an instant as the one he had served earlier – the rough, tired looking figure. He had sat with Tollers and eaten, more than likely, most of the massive breakfast that young hobbit had brought out. Dick looked quickly about for Tollers, but seeing him now where, decided that he had better go see what the stranger was about.

The innkeeper threaded his way swiftly around the tables and ran the last few paces to the doorway. He stopped just inside for fear of running unexpectedly into the man.

“Hold up, sir!” he called out. “Wait a moment! Where are you going?”

[Tevildo]

Tollers hurried out to the old shed that was attached to the back of the stables, and began dragging a piece of furniture back inside the inn, just as he'd been told to do. There were a number of chairs and tables to be shifted, good sized items that were meant to furnish the rooms rented out to some of the Big Folk.

After just one trip in and out of the inn, he decided he needed a little rest and a break for second breakfast. He immediately plunked down on the ground in front of the Inn, and reached inside his back pocket, taking out a napkin and spreading it on his lap. Reaching into the side pocket of his vest, he took out two fat biscuits, both a bit squashed but still quite edible. As Tollers ate, he hummed a happy tune and glanced intermittently across the road in the direction of the river, calculating the number of hours it would be until he could slip away with Jack to catch some fish.

When he finished the biscuits, he licked his fingers and then leaned back, closed his eyes, and began dreaming about his little boat that was tied up just a short walk down the left riverbank. The sun shone warm onto the hobbit's face and pleasant images of large perch danced magically inside his head. Before long, Tollers was fast asleep, totally quiet except for letting out an occasional snore.

[piosenniel]

‘It’s a long way from the Ford to Breeland. Might I ask what you . . . and your brother, is it . . . are doing on your travels?’ The man's steady grey gaze traveled from Tanni to her brother who was approaching the table.

‘Rhys Hafgen, good sir,’ said the young man, drawing near to where his sister was now sitting. On the small tray the innkeeper had given him he bore a pitcher of ale and a mug . . . for himself. And for Tanni, a small glass of deep, red wine. He topped off the other man’s mug, poured a brimming mugful for himself, and set the wine before his sister. ‘And did my sister manage to introduce herself, yet?’ he went on, seating himself across the table from the man.

‘Tanwen Hafgen,’ she chimed in, nodding at Hithadan. ‘Or Tanni, if you will.’ She took an appreciative sip of her wine, thanking Rhys for getting it for her. ‘Our family owns a large shop, at the Ford. We’re doing our Spring rounds to check in with our suppliers, and to ferret out any new sources of trade goods that we can. This is a busy time of year for us, and we thought by coming here to Stock, we might make a number of fortunate acquaintances . . . it being the big trade fair in these parts, or so we heard.’ Tanni settled her back comfortable against her chair and perused the man. ‘What about you, Master Hithadan . . . are you in the trade, too? Shall we count you as a . . . friendly rival?’ She gave him a disarming smile and sipped a little more of her wine.

Rhys flicked his gaze to Hithadan, wondering what the man might say in response.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot stared after the stranger, curiosity written on every line of her face. He was one of the Big Folk, and that, of course made things seem more intruiging for her. She dismissed all thoughts of a simple explanation, and instead she imagined all sort of dark and secret things that the man might be up to.

"I'd say he's up to no good by the looks of him." She said in answer to Rowan's question. "I simply cannot believe that he is going to spend such a day locked up in his room. That is, if he has a room here."

Meliot was not one of those hobbits that distrusted the Big Folk and suspected all of them of having certain dark intentions in their minds. On the contrary, she was quite fond of them. But still she was inclined not to trust anyone that did things in a way that she found strange. For example, anyone that had in mind to spend such a glorious day locked op in a room, could not possibly be up to anything good.

"There'll come trouble from that fellow, mark my words." she told Rowan. "But who is he, anyway? Do you know him? Where does he come from?"

[Folwren]

Dick listened to Jack’s explanation - surprised, at first, and dumbfounded by the end of it.

“He said the fishin’s good roundabout here,” Jack stated with simplicity. “And we might be able to come back with enough for a tasty fry-up for us all for the evening.”

“Fishing?” Dick ejaculated as soon as Jack became silent. “Fishing! That young scoundrel told you that he’d go off fishing with you this afternoon?” The question didn’t appear to need an answer. Jack said nothing and Dick didn’t either, for a moment. He stood, frowning and gnawing at his lower lip. “So that’s where the lad goes off to all the time. . .fishing. . .I might have guessed,” he grumbled to himself. “Well, see here, Mister,” he went on, addressing the Man, “I don’t see why you should be going to a hobbits’ room to sleep. You wouldn’t fit on Tollers’ bed if it were twice as long as it is now. You come along with me and I’ll show you to another room. Never mind the pay. You certainly look like you need a few winks. We’ll find some way for you to repay me by.

“As for fishing,” he said, still not moving anywhere, “I’ll have to talk to Tollers about that. We’ll see if his work is done and then I’ll decide if he’s going anywhere. Come along, sir.” He turned and began to lead Jack out of the corridor again.

[Folwren]

“What a bright and wonderful day it is!” Lilly Boffin said, her voice just as light and bright as the morning she admired. She pulled the small pinafore over her youngest daughter’s head and buttoned her up the back. “Your Papi is probably hard at work already.”

“Do we get to go see him, Mum?” the little hobbit girl asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on the mattress. “I can’t wait to see him! He’s the inn-lord all by himself!”

“Hardly a lord, my darling,” Lilly responded, placing a hand on her shoulder to make her stand still. She tied the strings in back and then picked up a comb for the curly hair.

“A king then!” the child squealed excitedly. Lilly laughed and didn’t object this time.

“Mum? I can’t get this button done up.” Lilly looked down as the other twin walked towards her. A frown of frustration marred his face as his little, clumsy fingers struggled over and over with an errant button that refused to be shoved through the wrong button hole. Lilly smiled gently.

“Wait a moment, Dorlind. Let me finished Daisy’s hair and then I’ll button you up.” The little chap dropped his hands and crawled up onto the bed. He sat by, his hands folded in his lap as he watched Lilly do up Daisy’s hair. “Once we’re ready, we’ll go over to see your Papi,” Lilly said, combing the last bit of hair. “And we’ll see how everyone at the inn is doing.”

“Mrs. Brandybuck promised me a biscuit with butter and jelly on it!” Daisy said with excitement.

“And same to me, too!” Dorlind cried, his frown forgotten. Lilly nodded as she buttoned him up. He had done nearly everyone incorrectly, so she had to undo almost his entire shirt before buttoning the one he had originally come to her for help on. “Will she still have biscuits, Mum? It’s kinda late.”

“She’ll have biscuits in plenty,” Lilly replied. She picked up her shawl and put it around her shoulders and then gave Dorlind his jacket, and Daisy her little cape. Then she took both their hands and the three went out together.

Their home was situation just beside the inn. Lilly had decided long ago that she didn’t want to raise a family inside the inn itself. Too many strangers and unpredictable characters came through that place. She didn’t like the idea of always having to be careful every time a new face appeared. She spent as much time as she could spare at the inn, sitting in the kitchen or out in the common room, depending who was there and who wasn’t. When she could, she took her knitting and sewing over and traded talk with Cela and Primrose in the kitchen, and sometimes other women at the tables outside. Generally, she did not go in the morning, for there was work at home to be seen to, and the children had to be taught. But this was a special occasion, and those things could be postponed for once.

Lilly led her children around the to side door and entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Cela! Good morning, Primrose!”

Her two youngest chimed in with the merry greeting, accompanying it with broad, unshy smiles. “Hello, Mrs. Brandybuck! Hi, Primrose! Do you have biscuits this morning?”

[Firefoot]

“You’re certainly welcome, Primrose,” said Cela as she took another batch of hot biscuits off the fire. Then the side door opened to admit Lilly, Daisy, and Dorlind Boffin and their chorus of greetings. Grateful for the distraction from Gable’s “wolves,” Cela greeted them warmly. “Good morning to you, Lilly. You’re here early this morning.”

“It’s a special day, after all,” answered Lilly.

“Of course.” Cela turned to the two youngsters. “So it’s biscuits you’re wanting, is it? What if I told you we ate them all, and there weren’t any left for the two of you?” she asked with a completely straight face.

The disappointment on their faces was almost comical. “But Mum said…” Dorlind trailed off as his sister interjected, “But you promised me-” Then she spotted the fresh biscuits sitting on the countertop. “No, you didn’t! I see them, right there!”

“So there are! I guess we didn’t eat all of them after all,” said Cela with a smile, loading some onto a plate for them. “Be careful; they’re hot. Nice and fresh, just for you two. Eat up!”

[Tevildo]

Tollers had eaten too many biscuits and drunk far too much ale for breakfast. His stomach was pleasantly rotund. It was not a good situation to be in when he had just promised to move a whole roomful of furniture before returning to the common room to help serve lunch.

As the sun came blinking out from behind a cloud and the warm rays spilled over Tollers' plump form, the young hobbit instinctively yawned and stretched, plugging his ears with his fingers to shut out the surrounding noise, and then snuggled down into the grass. In the recesses of his mind, he could hear a sharp insistent voice calling his name. It sounded very much like the voice of his father as he sternly berated Tollers at dinner for hitting one of his younger sisters on the head. Never did anyone mention that the lass in question had spent the last ten minutes kicking Tollers under the table. He did not like to be reminded of that, and closed his eyes even more tightly to shut out the glare of the sun. Soon, he was asleep again, and the unpleasant voice receded into the distance

[Forest Elf]

Gable finished the rest of her meal, thoughtfully. Her mind still on the owner, her thoughts swirling around each other, why was the pony saddled, and no owner could be found? What happened to the owner? Who is the owner?

Gable picked up her dirty dishes and placed them with the others, weaving between the young ones to get to the stables; to start her chores. She looked up and saw Will working on the roof.

"Will? Do you need any help up there?" She shouted from the ground.

[Folwren]

Dick showed Jack to a room bright with sunlight. He walked across to the window and closed the shudders, making it far more inviting for tired eyes. “Here you are, sir. Don’t worry about pay. We’ll figure that out later. You look mighty ready for a wink of sleep. Just lay right down and take as long as you like.”

With these words, Dick scurried out the door, shutting it behind him. He had work to do, but first he had to find Tollers. Considering what he had just heard, the boy (for so Dick termed him when he was in such a mood, even if he was of age) had better be doing something useful when he caught up to him.

He wound his way back through the common room, nodding to people as he passed, and then went back into the kitchen. As he strode in through the door his mouth was open to ask Cela and Primrose if they knew anything about Tollers’s whereabouts. He checked the sharp sounding words and stopped short upon seeing his wife and two children.

“Papi!” Daisy and Dorlind squeaked in excitement, around mouthfuls of biscuit. He smiled at them.

“Hello, hello!” he said. Lilly walked over to him and reached up for a kiss. “Hello, dear, what are you doing here this morning?”

“Come to celebrate your first day!” she said. “And the twins wanted Cela’s biscuits this morning. I couldn’t refuse.”

“Well, have a seat and breakfast, then. I’ve got to deal with something and then I’ll be back. Cela,” he went on, looking past his wife at the cook, the smile and merriness fading from his face, “do you know where Tollman is?”

“Why, no,” Cela replied, becoming serious just as quickly as Dick had. She not only noticed his expression but also the use of Tollers’ full name. “Haven’t seen him since he came in for seconds.”

Dick nodded his thanks and walked through the kitchen to the side door and out into the open. He walked to the barn to ask Will if he’d seen the hobbit. He discovered Will on the barn rooftop and Gable standing below him, looking up interested.

“Hello, Gable – Hey, Will!” The two looked at him and said their good morning. “Have either of you seen Tollers?”

[Folwren]

Dick turned away as Will began speaking to Gable about how to manage the horses. He left the barn, knowing that if Tollers were inside, Will probably would know about it. He walked swiftly around the barn and stables. His roving eyes caught sight of the storage shed with its doors open. He trotted forward to see if that could tell him anything. Arriving at the door, he looked in. They stored both wood furniture in here as well as lumber or wood scraps that Will would need to work around the place.

Will would have had to come in here that morning to get the wood for the shingles that he was repairing, but Dick doubted that Will would have left the doors open once he was finished in the shed. He looked about, and then his eyes lit on the furniture. That was it. Tollers was supposed to move some of that today. Well, good, if Tollers was at work now, maybe he wouldn’t be needed in the afternoon after all, and fishing may be alright.

Dick smiled a little and relaxed. He turned and walked back towards the inn, leaving the shed doors open as he had found them. He planned on discussing Tollers’ afternoon activities later, when Tollers wasn’t doing something already.

Dick rounded the front corner of the inn and walked towards the front door. Half way across the lawn he stopped short and nearly tripped over his own foot. There, not seven paces away, lying on one side with both hands up over his ears to block out who knows what sounds, lay the hobbit in question. Tollers - fast asleep, and completely oblivious to his surroundings. Dick was at a loss of what to think. This exceeded all of his hopes or fears of what Tollers might be up to. And considering what he had planned for the afternoon...! The young hobbit had quite a full day planned, didn’t he?

Dick strode forward, neither feeling nor looking very pleasant. He knelt down beside the hobbit and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Tolman Burrows, wake up, fellow,” he said, shaking him. “What do you think you’re doing? Wake up!” He shook him some more and finally Tollers seemed to respond. He grunted and turned over onto his back. “Wake up and explain yourself to me,” Dick said, taking his hand off him, and standing up. He waited, his hands on his hips, hoping, but without much expectations, for a good excuse.

[Folwren]

Dick scurried around the common room, fetching people’s used plates and taking more orders for breakfast. Where in the world was Rowan and why wasn’t she helping serving? “I sincerely hope she’s not napping also,” he said to himself as he placed three plates down before Hithadan, Rhys, and Tanni. Aloud, he asked them if they needed anything more. Having gained an answer to the negative, he hurried back to the kitchen.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Rowan, have you? Primrose? Cela?” They both looked at him and shook their heads.

“We can find her, Papi!” the twins said, leaping to their feet.

“Take your plates over, children,” Lilly said, looking at them. She stood by Primrose at the counter, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, helping the girl with lunch. “Then you may go look for her.” Daisy and Dorlind turned obediently and quickly picked up their plates and hurried them over to the sink. They put them down rather unceremoniously (causing both Cela and Dick to wince) and hurried out past their father.

“Come on, let’s look down the hall,” Daisy said, running through towards the door by the fireplace. They scampered down the hobbit sized tunnel, calling Rowan’s name at intervals. Coming to the bottom of the tunnel, they turned around, dumbfounded and fruitless.

“Well, guess she’s not down here. Come on!” Dorlind took the lead in running back up the tunnel. They skidded back out into the common room and came to an abrupt stop as they caught a glance from their father, standing behind the counter looking at some book. They both gave him a sheepish grin and then skirted the wall of the room on tiptoe.

“We’ll find her, don’t worry,” Dorlind whispered, leaning towards Daisy. “Sh-sh-sh. . .quiet now. . .” and slowly they continued their route around the room. They came to the door that led off into the wing of big people’s rooms and quietly slipped into it. Turning away from the door after carefully closing the door behind themselves, they spotted her, sweeping.

“Hi, Rowan!" Daisy called out, waiving, "Papi’s lookin’ for you! What’re you doing?”

[Folwren]

“I’m surprised that things are so crazy today,” Lilly was saying to Cela. “Generally, Dick is always talking about how well things run here at the inn. I mean-”

At that moment, she was interrupted as Gable burst into the kitchen. She looked wild and excited. “Prim and Will need help!” she panted. “They fell off, Primrose’s leg looks broken!”

Lilly started up to her feet in alarm, and Cela dropped her spoon. It clattered the floor, splattering sticky egg in every direction two or three feet. “You stay here, Cela,” Lilly said, quickly coming forward. “You need to be in here. Gable, go tell Dick.” She passed the young elf quickly and ran from the door to the barn. She saw them immediately - Tollers sitting on the ground, holding Primrose’s hand. Primose and Will lay side be side on the ground, the ladder between them.

Tollers lifted his head as she approached. “Mrs. Boffin, she’s hurt and Will’s not woke up yet!”

Lilly knelt quickly by Primrose’s head. She saw the tears flowing down the hobbit’s face and she gently brushed them away. “It’s alright, Prim,” she said gently, speaking to her as she would a crying child. “You’ll be fine. Your leg is caught in the ladder. We’re going to move it, will you be alright?” Primose nodded, a grimace passing briefly over her face. Lilly smiled encouragingly and caressed her hair slightly once more. “Hold on, now,” she whispered, and then stood up.

“Come here, Tollers,” she said, standing up and walking about to the ladder. She knelt again, this time at Primrose’s foot, and pushed her sleeves up until the cuffs grew tight on her forearm. Tollers came about and stood waiting. “Hold onto the ladder and when I tell you to, lift it up and move it out of the way. First, though, I have to figure out just how this leg is situated. . .” her voice faded off to a low mumble and she looked carefully at the situation.

Before she had quite decided how it would be best fixed, footsteps coming from the inn told her more help was one the way. She looked up as Dick came to a hurried stop before them. “What happened? What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Don’t know what happened, but we’ve got to get these two fixed up before we find out,” Lilly answered. “Don’t get excited, Dick. Help me here. Tollers, get ready.”

With gentle hands, the couple gently moved Primrose’s leg away from the ladder. Tollers picked it up and moved it away several paces. “It’s broken, alright,” Dick said, sitting back with a sigh. He looked at Primrose and then at Will. “Now, what about him? Knocked out, is he? Tollers, go get a bucket of water. That should rouse him.”

“Why, Dick, that’s a little rough, isn’t it?” Lilly asked. She got up and went to Will. He lay half on his face and half on his side, one hand braced against the ground as though he had fallen on it. He probably had, and goodness knows what he did to the wrist or elbow. She turned him over onto his back and felt the joint. A moan told her he would come around in a moment. Water would not be necessary.

[Envinyatar]

Jack eased himself out of the tub with a decidedly reluctant sigh. The tips of his fingers had gone all ‘pruney’ and the water had gone a bit cold, but if he could have, he would have stayed happily immersed in the fragrant waters for…well…forever, he thought. He’d never before had such a bath. A dip in some cold lake or squatted down by the edge of some colder stream had been good enough for him until now.

But now he’d crossed the line from utility to luxury. And he found he had no desire to go back.

He wrapped one of the thick towels about him and with another began to dry his hair. There was a small mirror in the room, steamed up of course from his bath, which he wiped clean with a few swipes of the towel corner. Jack tilted his head this way and that, considering his cleaned up face in it.

‘In for a copper penny, in for a silver,’ he said aloud as he picked up the straight razor and lathering brush on the small shelf by the mirror. Clean, then, and clean shaven, too, he walked to the door and opened it a crack, reaching out with his long arm to pluck up the bundle of clean clothes the server girl had left.

He dressed quickly and ran the comb he found through his thin, sandy hair, pushing it back in as neat a manner as he could behind his ears. With a light step, Jack went out the door, whistling a merry tune quite loudly. A notable fragrance of bathsalts trailed behind him.

Down the hall, he noted someone was just going out the door to the common room. One of the servers, he thought. He passed by his room, not feeling a bit tired anymore and went back out to the big room himself.

‘Maybe I can find Tollers and give him a hand with his chores,’ he said to himself. ‘Then we can go fishin’ sooner.’ He looked about the common room, wondering where the fellow had got off to.

[Undómë]

‘There'll come trouble from that fellow, mark my words.’ Meliot told Rowan. ‘But who is he, anyway? Do you know him? Where does he come from?’

‘Out of the dustbin, if you ask me,’ Rowan said. She was thinking of the nice clean room Master Boffin had just take the man to. Only this morning she’d swept and dusted it. The linen was all clean, too. As was the freshly laundered quilt she’d put on the bed. She cringed at the thought of the dirty man lying down on her clean bed. Would he even appreciate the fact the sheets were nice and soft and smelt of lavender from cook’s garden, she wondered.

She made up her mind to make sure the new ‘guest’ had water and soap with which to clean up and plenty of towels. She’d even see if he would let her launder his clothes. ‘I’m sure there are some clothes in the attic, left by some guest, that might fit the fellow,’ she murmured to herself.

Rowan did not really want to deal with the man by herself. He just looked a little too rough for her. She got up from her chair and turned hopefully to Meliot. ‘You want to come with me? We can see what’s what about him.’ She began to hatch her plan to Meliot. ‘I’ll just bet he’d like a nice hot bath. We can take him down to the washroom, where the tub is and such. Then one of us could keep watch for him, while the other . . . well, sort of ‘tidies’ up in his room. I’m sure he’s up to no good, too.’ She looked expectantly at Meliot. ‘So, what do you say?’

[Dimturiel]

Meliot laughed hearing Rowan's plan. She got up, her eyes blazing with the mirth that was inside her. "Tidying" the man's room! Not a very respectable thing to be done, but in this way the more appealing it was.

"Why, let us go then." she said, her head already full with images of intriguing objects that they could find in that room. She did feel a little uncomfortable, for the man was more than twice her size, and also because she did not like to think what would happen if she were caught prying into a stranger's room. But her inquisitive nature drove all thoughts of fear and humiliation away from her head. She was ready to do anything, if it promised the discovery of something intresting.

"But I have one more question before starting off," she said. "Which of us shall keep guard?"

[Folwren]

Dick stood looking in complete silence at Tollers, wondering what on earth he was going to say. Surely, the lad didn’t deserve any lenience, did he? All the same, Dick couldn’t help but know what Tollers was talking about. What hobbit had honestly never fallen to sleep after a good breakfast? Especially one his age. . .

That was no excuse, Dick told himself, as the silence got longer and longer. Tollers stood before him, looking less and less hopeful. Dick finally made up his mind.

“Look here, Tollers,” he said, only a little sternly. “I ran into your friend in there. He told me you and he were planning on going fishing this afternoon – is that true?”

Tollers looked up at him, and then slowly nodded his head. “We’d talked about it,” he admitted.

“Well, you certainly can’t go fishing when you have a whole roomful of furniture to move. You never mind setting the tables for lunch. There’re others inside who’ll help with that. You move the furniture and then report back to me and I’ll see what can be done when you’re finished. You’d better hurry, too, it’s about lunch time and I would hate to see you miss it.”

Tollers understood the threat in that statement very well. He nodded his head and tugged respectfully at his cap as Dick stepped to the side to allow him to pass. As he walked away, Dick called after him-

“If you do need help with all that, ask Will if he’s available. If not, I may come out and give you a hand myself.”

[Envinyatar]

Jack grinned as he looked about the room the Innkeeper had shown him to. This was so far removed from his recent accommodations, sleeping on the road, that he almost could not take it in.

‘G’wan, me lucky boy! Pinch yourself! Just to make sure.’

He stood stock still in the middle of the little braided rug and turned about the room slowly. He closed his eyes and popped them open once again. And yes, he did give himself a mighty pinch.

But the room was still there; the floor solid under his feet; sunlight filtering through pressed white curtains . . .clean ones! And not just some tattered rags . . ..

‘Step lightly, boyo,’ he warned himself in a low voice. ‘Winds of luck blow one way and then t’other just as quickly.’

He pulled out the chair from the little table that sat by the door and sat down gingerly, still afraid the bubble of fortune would burst and this all prove a dream. The chair held; off came the boots, followed by a pair of very dirty, tattered socks. He stretched out his feet before him, noting the callouses on his heels; the blisters on his toes; and the layers of variegated grime over all. His socks he wadded into a ball and threw on the floor by the chest at the end of the bed. The boots he put near his bed . . . just in case . . .

From his boots he took his leather pouch with its lock-picks and laid it on the table top. His empty leather pouch that hung from his belt was piled alongside it. His knife soon joined it, along with his sling from his pants' pocket and the rocks he’d gathered for it.

He decided to leave on his breeches and his tunic. Never knew when a body needs to exit quickly he'd learned through hard experience. His greasy leather vest with its many pockets was hung haphazardly over the back of the chair, his fingers first taking an account of his possessions there – his one coin in an inner pocket; in another a pretty little gold necklace and a small silver ring set with a light blue stone; a much folded piece of parchment on which were drawn a crude map with an X marked near a twisty-drawn tree by a river were stuffed tightly in yet another. The last pocket held a few more small items of jewelry – a cameo broach, a few loose pearls, and a pair of small gold loop earrings.

His beat up leather pack he didn’t bother to go through. It held only things for living rough. A flint and striker in a small box with some fine wood shavings, stubby candles, a finger line for fishing, some rope and a few other odds and ends. He shoved the pack into a corner and leaned his walking stick against the wall near it.

That bed sure looked inviting. And Jack was walking toward it when he heard voices in the hall and the sounds of feet drawing near his door . . .

[piosenniel]

Hithadan turned his attention to Rhys. ‘How long will you be staying at the Perch?’ he asked.

‘Off and on, I think, for about a month or so,’ Rhys replied. ‘We had planned to make it a sort of base for us.’ He glanced toward his sister as she nodded. ‘We’re planning on heading for Breeland and points north and west, too, I think. We’ll need a place to send back samples of our wares to Father. And the river of course, being so near to the Perch, is ideal for that.’ He poured a little more ale in his mug. ‘Now you said you had some news of Bree and the way there. What was it your friend told you?’

‘How about we let Master Hithadan finish his meal, Rhys?’ Tanni said, laying her hand on her brother's arm. She picked up Hithadan's fork and took a small bite. ‘Gah!! It’s cold!’

Tanni motioned for one of the servers to come near. ‘Please, can you bring us all some food.’ She smiled at the server as she handed over Hithadan’s plate. ‘We took him prisoner with our conversation,’ she said in explanation. ‘And I’m afraid the eggs have gone cold.’

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor entered quietly, and limped toward the most inconspicuous table by the far wall. He was not the type of person that warranted anything more than a cursory glance as he passed by. The days being what they were, evil and dangerous, surely the sight of travellers armed to the teeth must be a common occurrence in this inn. And he was hardly of the build that inspired fear in others. Slender and willowy, almost to the point of boyhood, he looked more like a serious lad in his late teens than an experienced swordsman and mercenary who has seen close on thirty winters.

He was clad in a chain-mail of tarnished silver, black woollen breeches, and mudstained leather boots that bespoke of a long and weary journey; his cloak boasted bloodstains as well as mud. His own blood, if his occasional winces and heavy limp could be trusted. Nevertheless it seemed as if he was not too keen on drawing notice to himself. That faithless cur, to betray him like this...

"Miss?" He called to the elven woman nearby, perhaps mistaking her for the serving staff. "Do you have any of those sickeningly sweet dwarven ale available, and if so, could you bring me a tankard? And some fresh bandages to dress my wounds, if you have any? It's nothing serious, I..."

He began coughing blood.

[Mithalwen]

Conversation between the elves had faded after the slight awkwardness of their interaction with Amadi and each gave their attention to their meal. Mithalwen had let her thoughts wander the path of her long memory until the new voice brought her back to the present - she wasn't sure he addressed her, but one glance was enough to tell her that he needed help and urgently.

In a moment she was at his side, later she might wonder at a mailshirt worn in the peaceable Shire but for now the blood that flecked his pale face held her attention fully. She rued that she had little leechcraft - there were those in Mithlond that did though there was not much call for it save for the odd accident or the succour of mortals in the area. Mithalwen thought bitterly that she could repair wood or metal but faced with an injury more serious than a scrape or minor burn she was at a loss.

She guided the warrior to a seat and called to her companions to seek help.

[Eorl of Rohan]

.
Ferethor had not meant to make a spectacle of himself like this. He hastily covered his mouth with his palm, a flush that might be half shame and half fever creeping up his hot cheeks, the crimson blood running down the length of his wrist to the bent elbow where it pooled onto the floor. 'It’s not… Not serious…' He managed to gasp out, half-strangled, as he let the elven woman support him to the nearby armchair where he promptly collapsed.

Exactly what wasn’t serious? He wondered feverishly in a lightheaded daze caused by the loss of blood. The broken piece of steel lodged between his ribs, the betrayal, or his own life? He was the typical rank-and-file, one that will do to swell a progress, perhaps, or start a scene or two; no doubt, an easy tool. When the war ended, the nameless soldiers who risked their all on the battlefield were discharged with a few silver pennies and a word of thanks. Ever since, he had tried to scratch and claw his way through life as best as he could, asking nothing else of his country. Now he was dying in a backwater inn because the new laws set down by King Elessar has decreed that all outlaws and their associates be hunted down and killed. Did Gondorian patrol even know that the brigands around here were former Gondorian soldiers who had nowhere to return to? Did they even care? The accursed officer with his 'Halt, and go no further!'...

'Besides, without me to smooth matters out, my former colleagues would have had no scruples about slaying the merchants instead of striking a deal. I probably *saved* their lives, not… not…' Ferethor muttered thickly, then stopped, chagrined that the elf woman might have heard.

It was unfortunate that he encountered the Gondorian patrol officer in such a backwater place as the Shire. If it was a city, he could lose himself among the crowd and the numerous buildings, but this… they’d come for him here, sooner or later. He had to leave. Now. But his sinews were paralyzed with pain and wouldn’t move. Perhaps it was better this way, to die in a place where no one knew his countenance or name, a quiet and nameless end that befit a nameless former soldier of Gondor. With luck, if he left his wounds untreated, then he'd be dead before the guards rushed into the inn to arrest him.

Ferethor wiped his bloody chin with his sleeves, took a deep breath, managed a weak smile, and tried his best to maintain a clear and steady voice as he lied,

'I thank you for your courtesy, fair miss, but it's nothing serious. If I sleep it off, I'd be fine.'

He nervously fumbled in his pocket, wondering whether he had the currency to repay the inn for the trouble that he would incur should he die here. A handful of bronze coins, not enough, and... Ah, the silver. He had not spent the pouch of silver pennies that he received as he was discharged from the military services, bought as it was with his blood. It would be only fitting to pay for the blood that he was spilling now with the Gondorian silver. He took out the black leather pouch with the silver tree of Gondor stitched onto it, and quietly slid it onto the table. There. At least he would be beholden to no one in death or life.
.

[Loslote]

Idhreniel blanched when she looked at the man. He was covered in blood, and was beginning to cough it up. "Oh Eru," she whispered, starting to spring to her feet and tripping over her chair in the process.

Glancing repeatedly over her shoulder at the bleeding man, Idhreniel ran to the kitchens, skirting around the edges of the room. "Sir!" she said, breathless, when she got to the innkeeper. "There's a man. I don't know who he is. He's hurt, and bleeding, and sir, he needs help. Send for a healer, or something. He's bleeding badly!" Idhreniel shut her mouth forcefully - she was starting to babble on. She turned and hurried back to Mithalwen and the man.

"The innkeeper, or one of the staff, have gone for help," she said. "What can we do until then, Mithalwen? Do you know any healing?"

All she could do was bandage small wounds, and she was poor enough at that. Half the time she forgot to bathe the wound first and - oh. Right. Bathe the wound.

"Do we have water? To wash the wound?" she asked, voice growing higher every time she spoke as she grew more and more upset. "Then again, maybe we should just wait until the healer gets here. But can we? How badly is he hurt?"

[Ghanberryghan]

Aeridor had finally reached the Golden Perch Inn. He was a lanky man of about 31 with brown hair down to his shoulders and a rather large black cloak covering him with the hood up. In his right hand he grasped an oak staff, and in his left he held a map of Eriador splayed out.

It was evident he had been traveling many a mile, and that the elements had not been so kind to him, but the look of relief on the man's face when he saw the round door to the Inn-built-in-to-the-hill defied his struggles. He was from the north east, from Forodwaith, but he had lost his family and was forced to leave after the rise of Angmar. He had an immensely strong will and could be quite persuasive if his will was strong enough, but he was also very greedy and stubborn.

"Built like an elf, but with the mind of a dwarf" his family used to say to him, and he chuckled at the thought of it, but a frown quickly came across his face as he remembered their passing. After fleeing Forodwaith he had made it to as far as Bree, where he started up an organisation known as MESS: Middle Earth Supremacy Sanction, which believed in the mortal's superiority, and bore a strong dislike for Angmar - as it was ruled by the immortal Witch-King - and inevitably the elves. He had been advised to come to this inn specifically by one of few recruits, so he set off on a journey to get here - mainly because he wanted to explore.

Aeridor's brown eyes gleamed with excitement and ambition as he walked up to the Golden Perch Inn eager to recruit members, and hopefully bring about his intent of mortal supremacy. MESS was hardly known, but Aeridor saw this as an advantage, and would keep his true ideas to himself until he had members.

He entered the Inn and found himself in the common room, where there was a man lying on the floor bleeding. A few people were gathered around him so Aeridor quickly took off his cloak and leaned his staff against the door. He rushed up to the man and examined him. "What's happened here? Do you need any assistance?" They were waiting for a healer, which luckily Aeridor had obtained skills of during his road life. He looked at who the people were; they were elves - members of a race he fiercely stood against and hated, yet helping a man possibly bleeding to death.

[Lilly]

‘M'dear wife will have cream and sugar, if you would,’ said Madoc, raising his half pint to the Innkeeper. He took a deep drink and sighed quite contentedly as he set the half empty mug back on the countertop. ‘My stars! That is surely as sweet and satisfying as a wind from the West.’ He tapped his finger on the rim of his mug, indicating he’d like it topped off.

‘Ah, yes, the tea. Taffy’s fond of lump sugar. Boy saw his uncle grab a small lump between his front teeth and sip his tea through it. And the wee one, Seren, she fancies honey in hers.’

Madoc watched as the server brought out another platter stacked with plates of eggs, bacon, and baskets of biscuits. His stomach began to rumble fiercely. Think I’d best be getting back to the table. That breakfast looks might good. Can’t wait to tuck into it.’ He fished into the side pocket of his vest and brought out his coin purse. ‘This should do it,’ he said, pushing a number of small coins across the counter top.

He lifted his mug to the Innkeeper, and then made his way through the aisles between the tables to his own.

[Envinyatar]

The pair of new faces in the doorway caught his attention. Hithadan looked over the two as they entered. A striking couple, he thought. And at ease in the room as if they had been here before and knew the inn well. He cast his eyes back down to his plate and plied his fork and knife as the woman gazed his way. Sizing him up, it seemed.

It cannot be for my purse. he chuckled to himself, scooping a forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth. Nor the elegance of my company . . . he continued, picking a piece of egg that had escaped his fork up from the table. He popped the truant morsel in his mouth, chuckling again.

Whatever it was, in a matter of moments, the woman had come up to his table. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ she said, as she reached the table and placing her hands on the back of the empty chair to the left of him, she gave him a pretty smile. ‘My brother and I have just been traveling, up from Sarn Ford. Might we sit with you to break our fast.....and perhaps share in any word you have of happenings along the road to Bree?’

‘Company would be most welcome!’ The Ranger stood and pulled out the chair for her, bidding her to sit if she would. ‘Hithadan, here, m’lady,’ he said nodding to her as he sat back down. He pushed his plate to the side, and brought his mug of tea into the circle of his hands. ‘I do know a little of the way to Bree. A friend of mine was just recently there and gave me news of recent happenings.’ He sat back comfortable in his chair, looking her over openly as he sipped from his mug. ‘It’s a long way from the Ford to Breeland. Might I ask what you . . . and your brother, is it . . . are doing on your travels?’

[Forest Elf]

Gable just finished mucking out the last stall and leading the pony to the stall. “There you are, boy. How’s a nice and clean stall sound to you?” Gable asked the pony, taking off his bridle.

She hung the bridle and walked into the Inn, and over heard Primrose and Will talking about having a rest. Gable walked to her room and changed into her mother’s dress, one that she’d never worn out of her room before, and one that she kept secret. It was the only dress, and the most beautiful, in Gable’s eyes, from her mother’s wardrobe.

She walked over to her dresser and opened up the upper drawer, a little too high for any hobbit to reach without standing on something. Gable reached in and pulled out her father’s shirt, and hugged it. She missed them both so much, and her foster parent’s. She was allowed to keep a two hat’s from them after they died one from her foster-father, and one from her foster-mother.

Gable carefully placed the hats’ and shirt back into the drawer, and changed into a dress that she’d gotten, here in the shire, and folded her mother’s dress carefully, and placed the soft blue gown into the drawer, atop of her father’s shirt.

She took off her boots and put on a pair of elf girl’s shoes. Then unbraided her hair and brushed it out. Letting it go long, as she didn’t do so often. She headed back down stairs to see if any help was wanted.

[Tevildo]

"Actually, we won't be fishing in the Baranduin, Jack. I'd love to go down to the big river but there's not enough time today. The Stockbrook cuts through the southern portion of the village and runs just across the road from the Inn. Plus, it has a good supply of brown trout along with lots of other fish."

It took only a few minutes of walking until they arrived at the bank of the small river. They walked downstream a few paces. Ahead of them, they could glimpse a bend in the river where a large tree grew with low hanging bows. Tied to one of these boughs was a small grey boat with two oars, just large enough to carry a hobbit and a man.

"She's my beauty," beamed Tollers, with obvious pride. '"I call her "The Brandy". Tollers paused a minute and then went on in a voice tinged with some regret, "Still, I only putter about in the waters near Stock. You know, Jack, you're a lucky fellow. From the sound of it, you've been all over. Unfortunately, I've been nowhere at all. They say that this river begins in the forests above Woody End, and flows through the Marish until it comes here. If you walk a bit further upstream, you'll see where it empties into the Baranduin, a few miles north of Bucklebury Ferry. I guess you must have come by way of the ferry to get to the Shire. From there, the Baranduin runs south for a long, long way. Some folk even claim it goes all the way to the Sea, but I couldn't say for sure one way or the other."

Tollers confessed, "I've only been to Woody End once and, as for the Sea, I've never even seen it. I'm ashamed to say, but I haven't even been to Bree. Maybe someday, you and I can travel together to Bree, and I could meet your friends, and family, and such."

Bu that time, they had reached the boat. Tollers squatted down and took out two poles, each with a line, a sinker, a float, and a small hook attached. "Alright, now, no use wasting time on regrets. Take whichever one you like, then we'll get inside and row a bit upstream to a place I know that's wonderful for fish. Nice, deep, shady waters. They love to go there in the late afternoon."