The Golden Perch Inn

[Undómë]

Rowan pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath. It was true, she and Meliot could spend a good amount of time trying to figure out just where they thought that X might be, but it wouldn’t necessarily bring them any closer to the treasure.

And just get your head out of the clouds on that! she chided herself. You don’t even know that X means a treasure at all!! The old saw of not counting chickens before the eggs were hatched flashed through her thoughts.

‘But there’s no saying it isn’t a treasure, though, either,’ she murmured aloud. She looked over at her friend, realizing her comment must have made no sense.

‘What we need to do is try to chat that Jack fellow up. See if he can give us any clue about the map. Of course without actually referring to this particular map.’ Rowan shook her head, wondering how that might be done. ‘But in order to do that, we’ve first got to get the map back to his room. He might get suspicious if he can’t find it after we’ve talked about maps and such to him. Or....maybe, just maybe he’s the sort we can flatter a bit and he’d actually show us the map.’

As they sat talking and thinking, Rowan became aware that the angle of the sun had changed. ‘Blast it! I’ll be in for it now! Supper’s ready, I’m sure. And what with Prim unable to help out, they’ll be wanting me in the kitchen and common room even as we speak.’ She stood up and straightened out her apron, brushing down the wrinkles.

‘You know, most, or really I should say all, will be in the common room for the evening meal. I’m sure Jack will, too.’ She folded the map up carefully, taking one last look at it to fix it in her mind's eye; then handed it back to her friend as she motioned for Meliot to follow her back into the inn. ‘Maybe you could sneak back to his room and put the map back.....whattaya say?’

[Envinyatar]

Jack awkwardly shifted from foot to foot in the busy atmosphere of the kitchen. Tollers had gone off and left him wondering if he should offer to help or just go out to the common room and sit down. He thought he might like to help out, it would make Tollers’ duties go more quickly, but he eyed the cook as she moved about the kitchen fixing this and that and wondered if she would even allow him to touch a plate or bowl again. He clenched his hands and unclenched them, willing the ten fingers not to be so clumsy.

Just as he cleared his throat and was about to ask her, the innkeeper sailed into the kitchen. ‘Hello, Jack,’ he said. ‘How was fishing?’

‘That Tollers is some fisherman!’ Jack returned, his face lighting up at the sight of Master Boffin. ‘He found us a good spot. And as you can see we brought back plenty of trout for supper. Along with a nice basket of mushrooms!’ He paused, not quite sure how to voice his offer. ‘Say,’ he plunged on, gesturing about the busy kitchen. ‘I noticed you’re a little short on help. Just Mistress Brandybuck for the cooking and Tollers for the serving. Think there might be something I could do...to lend a hand?’

[Arry]

Will scuttled about the kitchen, trying to keep out of the way of the others. He was somewhat hungry, needing just a little something to take the edge off. And something he could carry easily with his one good arm.

He got one of the small baskets used for gathering eggs from the hens and lined it with a clean kitchen towel. Some thick slices of bread from the counter, a small wedge of crumbly cheese from a cupboard, three apples from just inside the pantry. He had a pitcher of water back in the stable, that would be drink enough for this evening.

Grabbing the half-filled basket securely by the handle he made his way back out the kitchen door, intending to hurry back to his little room. His eye caught the still sleeping form of Primrose as she dozed on the wooden bench. Setting down the basket he reached in and pulled out one of the apples, polishing it up a bit on his shirt. He placed it on her lap, near one of her hands.

With a quick step, then, he was off with his own little supper to the company of the horses, ponies, and the goat.

[Lilly]

Taffy had assured the younger boy that the tale of the dragon would indeed be scary. Or at least he hoped so. Whatever good would a story of dragons be if it were not the sort that sent chills up your back.

‘But all you have to remember is,’ he told Dorlind, ‘it’s just a story and a long done one if I understood him right.’

He’d finished the two little whistles by the time he heard his mother call him and Seren in. They had three little holes each, and on Dorlind’s he had carved the outline of a little bird and on Daisy’s, a flower to match her name. ‘That way she can’t take yours if she’s lost her own and say it’s hers.’ He looked at Seren as she came running toward the porch. ‘Girls can be quite sneaky you know,’ he said to Dorlind, handing him the whistles. ‘And fathers always seem to side with them!’ He nodded his head in a knowing way at his friend. ‘Anyways, we’ve got to go in now and have supper.’

Taffy stood up and took his sister by the hand. As they hurried to the door he called back over his shoulder. ‘See you after the meal’s done!’

[Glirdan]

"Where have you traveled from, Kár?’ Bávor asked, pouring a round of ale from the new pitcher. ‘We’re heading eastward, toward the Blue Mountains. We’ve heard, even in The Lonely Mountain, that there are interesting caverns to be seen beneath them. Carved out long ago, perhaps by some of our fathers’ fathers and before."

"Well, in answer to your first question, I come from the place to which you desire to see," he answered. " And I must say that I don't remember anything of too much interest underneath the Mountains. Mind you, I never really took to mining. I'm more of an adventurer than anything. I want to go and explore before settling down to mining and having a wife and children," he said cheerfully.

He looked at the other three Dwarves. They looked far older than he. They even looked to be of a different bloodline. "By any chance, would you three be of the line of Dain?" he asked curiously. He really wanted to know more about them and that line. "Perhaps we are related in some way..." he thought silently to himself.

[Noinkling]

Bívor and Bávor exchanged a puzzled look. Nothing interesting beneath the mountains? Now there was something neither of them had ever heard, much less experienced. They were quite at a loss for words. Reflexively, their hands reached down to rest on the handle of the pickaxes resting against their chairs.

It was Skirvir, the youngest of the three, who spoke up. ‘An adventurer, is it? We’re on a bit of an adventure ourselves; though it was not without some difficulty that we left the halls beneath the Lonely Mountain.’ He looked at his two cousins and grinned. ‘We are scarce into our seventh decade, each of us. And our fathers spoke long and hard against our going. But we stood firm and so our own little adventure was granted.’

‘We had always heard that the halls and caverns beneath the Blue Mountains were long and deep,’ said Bívor ‘with many branchings and caverns. Dwarves of old brought out precious metals, shining jewels and made many beautiful things. We were hoping to see some of that. The mines where they delved. The others are most likely long gone, though not in our imaginings.’

Skirvir’s eyes glinted at the thought of the craftsmanship that must have flowed from the forges and workrooms of those ancient halls. His fingers twitched at the thought of working with such metals and gems. And his mind turned over another thing Kár had said to them – something about a wife and children. He sounded like a man who might have the opportunity to have a wife. Perhaps women flourished beneath the Blue Mountains. Aulë knew they were scarce as the mithril of Khazad-dum where he and his cousins were from.

Bávor reached into an inner pocket of his vest and brought out a flat, silvered flask. ‘How about a taste of Dwarven spirits?’ he ask grinning at the other three men. He offered the flask to Kár first, motioning for him to pass it on. While he waited for the flask to come round to him, Bávor nodded his head, thinking about the last thing Kár had asked.

‘The line of Dain; isn’t that what you asked about?’ Bávor looked at his brother and cousin. ‘I suppose you could place us there. . . sort of. More like a small fissure off another a fair sized vein branching off the mother-lode.’ Bívor and Skirvir laughed at the analogy. ‘And how about you, Kár? How do you trace your family line?’

[Tevildo]

For the past hour, Tollers had given no thought whatsoever to his coin. He had been far too busy to think about it. Everyone in the Inn seemed to be hungry and thirsty, and demanding their bread and ale as quickly as he could deliver it to them. Tollers had tried to please everyone and had run from table to table, but still he was sure that he had forgotten something. Leaning against the bar and sighing, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand until suddenly he remembered what he had forgotten. Grabbing one of the flasks of nut brown ale, he rushed over to where the Dwarves were seated and held out the pitcher towards them.

"Excuse me, Master Dwarves. I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your conversation. But one of you....I believe it was the gentleman over there," Tollers pointed towards Bávor, "asked for more ale. I've been so busy serving and only got around to bringing it now. I'm very sorry to be so late." Tollers set the pitcher down on the table and stepped back as he caught sight of the tiny bottle of spirits that the Dwarves were passing around between them. "Ah... I see you've already found another brew. Shall I take this ale away then, or would you still like it with the rest of your meal? Either way is fine. Only I'd be much obliged if you could kindly give me the sixpence for the first flask so we can square up your account."

He held out his hand awaiting payment.