The Golden Perch Inn

[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 . . .

[Undómë]

‘I’ll take the towels and get him to the bath room,’ whispered Rowan, motioning for Meliot to follow after her. ‘I know where everything is kept, so I’ll look official and all that.’ She led her companion to the part of the Inn where the Big Folks had their rooms.

‘See that broom there’ she said, pointing to one leaning in the corner of the hall with a dust pan at its feet. ‘You just grab that and look like your doing some sweeping up while I knock on his door.’

Rowan opened the door to the linen closet and fetched out a stack of fluffy towels, a couple of washcloths, and a thin woven blanket. From a basket on the shelf across from the linens she took a fat, fresh bar of oat-soap. And one with a pleasant smell of mint. She was going to grab a plain scented bar, him being a man and all, but she thought he might still smell even if he scrubbed himself clean, and the mint would help overcome it.

‘Now you just sweep and look busy while I pry him from his room. I’ll give you the sign when he’s got into his bath, and you slip into his room real quick. I’ll watch out for his return and give you the high sign.’

Rowan frowned as she looked toward Meliot. ‘Got any ideas what a good signal would be?’

[Dimturiel]

Meliot thought hard. "How about singing a few verses from some song?" she said at length. "Everyone sings arround here when they feel like it, so no one will suspect anything."

She gave the door one last look and then said, taking the broom : "Well, good luck, for both of us."

She watched as Rowan knocked on the door. When it opened, she pretended to be busy sweeping. She hoped that she looked profesional enough, or, at any rate, that her excitement could not be easely seen. She even began humming to herself, in an effort to look believable.

"Please, let him go." she was saying to herself. "Please let him go, and I swear that this will be the last time I do something like this... Or, almost the last", she added hastily, not wanting to make a vow that would rob her of so much amusement.

[Tevildo]

Tollers gave a sigh of relief and, taking out his handkerchief, wiped the perspiration from his brow. Although he was not too keen on being drafted for kitchen duty, it was certainly a better fate than some other punishments the Innkeeper might have imposed. Master Dick had actually been fair. Even Tollers had to admit that falling asleep on the job was probably not the best way to win the approval of the higher-ups.

The hobbit's only real regret was there was no way he could slip off to go fishing in the early afternoon. Perhaps Jack would wait till later in the day. If so, Tollers promised to work very hard to move the furniture and finish all the jobs that Cook would dole out to him. His first project, though, was to get the furniture moved into the Perch.

Taking a peek in the storage room, he could see that several of the pieces were quite large. There was no possible way he could move all this furniture on his own, even if he worked till midnight. Now what has Master Dick said when he left? Tollers scratched his head and sat down for a minute to try and remember. Then it hit him: he was to go to Will and see if he was available to help move the furniture.

Tollers ran around to the backside of the Inn where he could see Will standing and working diligently on the roof. He cupped his hands to his mouth and hallooed up to him. "Master Will, it's me....Tollers. Master Dick wondered if you'd be available to help me move some heavy furniture inside the Perch. Or, if you're not, perhaps you know someone else who could help."

[Envinyatar]

Knock….knock….knock!

Jack started at the series of firm raps. ‘Now who can that be?’ he muttered to himself. A few short steps and he reached the door. His hand hesitated, and he leaned near the door, trying to hear through it. No use, the wood was too thick.

He turned the handle and drew open the door a crack. One of the Hobbit lasses, One who worked here by the look of it. She had a pile of towels in her arms and an expectant smile.

He opened the door just a bit wider. ‘Wotcher want, missy?’ he asked, giving her a considering look.

[Arry]

‘Ah, Tollers!’ Will called down. ‘I really need to get this patch put on the roof. I’ve still got some of the old shingles to pry off and the hot pitch to swab on.’ He swiped the back of his arm across his forehead. The day was getting on, and between the work he was doing and the sun, he had worked up a good sweat.

‘How’s about you ask Gable? She’s got a strong back . . .’ He thought for a moment. ‘I think she’s in the stable. Was out exercising one of the guests’ horses and just brought it in. Tell her she can just put the ponies out in the exercise pen and let them run about while she gives you a hand.’

Will turned back to finish what he was doing, then turned back to look down at Tollers. ‘Ummm . . . that is – you don’t mind having Gable give you a hand, do you? Her being an Elf and a female. She really is quite capable.’

[Undómë]

Rowan felt a cold little shiver move up her spine. He was even rougher looking close up. She took a few steps back, nearly tripping herself on Meliot’s broom.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ she began. ‘But Master Boffin sent me to bring you some nice fresh towels and soap.’ She took a step forward and smiled as prettily as she could. ‘For the bath, that is. Just down the hall here,’ she went on, pointing toward the end of the corridor. ‘He thought you might like one.’ She handed him the towels, balancing the soap on top.

‘And if you’ll just leave your clothes outside the door there, we’ll get them washed for you. It’s wash day here at the Perch.’ She took a few steps in the directions of the bath room, hoping he would follow. ‘And we’ve got a shirt, I’m sure, and some clean trousers you can wear while yours get dry.’ She motioned for him to follow. ‘So just come along and we’ll get the high backed tub filled.’ Rowan stopped for moment and looked him up and down.

‘Do you . . . well, want some bath salts in the water, too?’