The Golden Perch Inn

[Arry]

Will nodded at Gable, looking up at her hair in disarray and the blood from the pony’s wounds drying on her. ‘Yes, yes,’ he encouraged her. ‘Yes, go on ahead and get yourself cleaned up a bit. We won’t really need to be doing anything until late afternoon. Then you can help me bring the ponies and horses in from the exercise yard and get them brushed and fed. We can check on that new pony’s wounds, too, and see how . . .’

He was cut off mid-sentence as a voice from the stable door called for service. ‘Go on now, Gable, I’ll see to what the man wants. You go on and wash up.’

Will plunged his hands into a clean bucket of water and washed them up as quickly as he could. He was just drying them on a towel as he reached the door to the stable. One of the Big Folk stood there and just beyond him stood two lovely greys still hitched to their cart.

‘Name’s Will. Will Hayward,’ he said, nodding at the man, a welcoming smile on his face. ‘How can I help you?’

[Undómë]

Rowan wove her away around the innkeeper as he poked his head back out of the kitchen door. Her serving tray was empty and she was after another load of filled platters for the hungry breakfasters who were making their way into the common room. Primrose, she noted, had sidled up close to Cela and seemed to be whispering something in the older woman’s ear.

Now what was that all about, she wondered. Who didn’t she want hearing what she had to say? And for that matter, what was such a secret that it couldn’t be said aloud in the kitchen, among friends? Rowan’s brow furrowed as she considered the questions and their possible answers.

Hmmmm . . . my granny would say those two are thick as flies round a honeypot! she thought to herself.

She flicked her eyes away from the two conspirators, smoothing out the questioning lines in her face, and fixed her gaze on the platters of eggs and bacon and baskets of biscuits set out on the table. With quick movements she deftly piled a number of platters on her tray and hoisted it up to her shoulder, to balance there as well as on the fingers of her right hand.

‘You know,’ she said, stuffing a few extra forks in one of the deep pockets of her apron. ‘Didn’t Will say he was going to work on the roof of the stable today?’ She looked from one to the other for confirmation. ‘Well, maybe when we’re done with breakfast, one of us ought to pack up a little basket for him – for his second breakfast and lunch, too. I’m sure he’ll be busy and won’t want to make time to clean up and come in. What do you think?’ She grinned impishly in Primrose’s direction. ‘In fact, we could take turns with the delivery – one of us to take one meal and the other to take the next.’ She readjusted the load on her shoulder in preparation for going back out to the common room.

‘What do you think, Primrose?’

[piosenniel]

The horses’ needs had been discussed and a price for their care negotiated. Will seemed a knowledgeable enough person as he and Rhys spoke together and quite conscientious, too. Rhys glanced about the stable and thought it appeared quite clean and well kept. Being an orderly person, himself, this raised the ostler a number of notches in his estimation. He helped Will settle the cart in under the protection of the stable eaves and then left Nia and Olwen comfortably to the Halfling’s capable care.

Tanni had already made her way to the inn’s front door as he turned to find her. Rhys ran quickly across the short expanse of yard to catch up to her. He paused before opening the door to straighten his tunic and brush the hair that had crept from the thick braid down his back back into some semblance of order. Tanni smiled at him as he did so. She’d shaken the dust from her dark blue cloak and draped it artlessly about her. Her hair was thick as her brother's. And while he strove to keep his neat and contained, she did not. A thin copper-colored band held it back somewhat from her brow. But the masses of gingered curls crept here and there about her fair face, swaying freely as she moved and cascading down below her shoulders.

Rhys motioned her through the open door before him. Both stopped briefly in the entry way letting their eyes, used to the bright morning, adjust to the room’s more subdued light. It was warm inside the inn, and Rhys took his sister’s cloak from her, hanging it on one of the pegs by the door. And next to hers, his.

‘I’ll find us a table,’ she told him, her gaze darting here and there, taking in the folk already seated. ‘Over there,’ she said, lifting her chin to where a man sat alone. ‘He looks a bit road-worn; his demeanor’s not too threatening seeming.’ She watched him from the corner of her eye as he ate his meal. ‘And he seems to have learnt some manners along the way. So perhaps we can have a pleasant conversation with him . . . learn something of where he’s been and what, if any, cautions he might give us about the way to Bree.’

Rhys nodded, saying he would fetch some ale for himself and a little wine for her. He, too, gave the promising tablemate a once or twice over, wondering what the man’s business here might be. He looked a little too rough to be a competitor. He trusted Tanni’s quick assessment of the man, knowing her first instincts about a person were usually close to the mark. He watched as she made her way to where the man sat.

~*~

‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ Tanni said, as she reached the table. She placed her hands on the back of an empty chair and gave the man a quick 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?’

[Celuien]

Rowan had certainly chosen an inopportune moment for her entrance. Primrose wondered what her friend would think of her whispering to Cela. Secrecy was little practiced at the Golden Perch. But Primrose couldn't tell Rowan, who would probably make light of the situation. And Primrose was in no mood to be teased.

Rowan suggested bringing Will his meals. That was a reasonable enough idea. He did have work to do at the stable. There was nothing unusual about it, though its pairing with Rowan's grin suddenly made Primrose uneasy.

Now she was asked her opinion. "What do you think, Primrose?"

It was a good idea. Primrose had no reason to say otherwise, even if the mischievous grin on Rowan's face made her worry that her conversation with Cela was known over the entire Inn. That was a silly thought, and Primrose scolded herself for it. It couldn't be so. Rowan would have mentioned it directly. But if it were so, Primrose would do her best to dispel rumors by behaving as if there was nothing to trouble her.

Primrose attempted a giggle and answered. "I think it's a perfect idea. Saves Will some trouble. And..." Primrose shot a sidelong glance at Cela, "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?"