The Golden Perch Inn

[Arry]

‘As if I don’t have enough else to deal with right now!’

Will’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Mistress Brandybuck jabbing her cook spoon at Master Dick; that and the loud angry tone in which her words were couched.

He was just about to close the door and suggest to Prim they walk around to the main entrance when Master Dick spoke up. ‘It seems Miss Brandybuck and I have some things to discuss. Will, Prim – you do not mind if I ask you to step out for a few minutes? Unless you would like to put your input on the matter. I don’t know that it’s all that serious, but our dear cook seems to think it is.’

‘Input? No, I don’t think so.’ Will looked toward Prim, his brows raised. ‘Just looking for a bite to eat. Perhaps Prim and I will just follow up on your request and go off the common room.’ He gave Prim’s arm a little squeeze. ‘Shall we go?’

[Envinyatar]

Jack’s cheeks were flaming from the cook’s words. The tray of bowls, all brimming with fish stew, shook in his hands. And his hands had become all sweaty as they trembled. He looked down at the roiling contents of the bowls and felt his heart begin to race and lurch within his chest.

Gripping the tray all the tighter, he inched backwards out the door and into the common room. With a sigh of relief, he set the tray on the bar top and grabbed a dry bar towel to wipe his hands and face.

Tollers was just approaching the bar with a tray of his own filled with empty mugs. Jack waved him over and let him know what was going on in the kitchen between the innkeeper and the cook. ‘Can you help me, Tollers?’ he asked, his eyes sliding to the closed kitchen door. ‘The old dragon in the cave,’ he went on, ‘is all riled up. And as I live and breathe, I just don’t want to go back into her lair. But I don’t want to let Master Dick down either. Can you fetch the food for me? Bring it out here. Be happy to take it around.’

[Mithalwen]

Cir's keen elvish hearing had no difficulty in picking up the lyrics of his sister's song or the dwarf's response. He decided he had better intervene, hoping that he would not make matters worse. Still clutching his precious tankard of ale he made his way across the room swiftly on nimble feet and went to see if he could talk them away form trouble as way to into it.

"Please forgive my sister's intrusion," he said to the dwarf who had spoken. He seemed to be frowning as he traced a pattern on the table while the intent gaze of his companions was a bit disconcerting. "It is only that we are to sing for the company this evening and have no other instrument to accompany us save this whistle; now it is known to us from the visit to our home at Rivendell of Thorin Oakenshield and his companions that ...." here Cir hesitated since he had the wit to remember that Naugrim was not a term to be used to the face of one of that race.... unless you wished to offend, but he hesitated for a moment for an acceptable alternative. Althought he beer had helped loosen his tongue it had not increased his westron vocabulary so he had to improvise, "that the sons of Aule are fond of music and as craftsmen are seldom equalled, and perhaps you might have instruments that might bring enrichment to the evening's entertainment"

Having finished his speech he remembered a bit more of dwarvish customs from the visit of Mr Bilbo and his companions. "Carantilion Laicirith at your service" he added making a low bow which might have seemed a mockery had it not been for the earnestness of his expression. "And this is my sister Enpauriel Laicirith ... but mostly we are called Cir ...." his voice faded and he waited for a reaction or for his twin to interrupt.

[Celuien]

On hearing Cela's outburst, Primrose's face might have been the mirror image of Will's, mouth open, eyes as wide as saucers. Jabbing Master Dick was the last purpose Primrose would have thought Cela would find for her spoon. And the raised voice made her almost squirm where she stood.

"Shall we go?" Will said.

Prmrose quickly replied, "Yes. Let's." They left as hurriedly as her injured leg allowed and sat at a table in the common room.

"Dishes and spoons? I wonder what that was all about!" Primrose exclaimed softly under the din on the busy room. "I've never seen Cela in quite so much of a bother."

[Folwren]

Will and Primrose withdrew as quickly as they could manage (it was not terribly quickly, as Primrose’s injury kept her from being too swift) and the doorway was once again empty. Dick moved his eyes back to Cela. She stood with her back to him, stirring the stew swiftly with her spoon.

“Stop that, or you’ll break the fish into tiny little bits and no one will be able to find them,” he ordered. She stopped abruptly, but still did not turn to face him. Dick drew a very deep breath and let it out slowly before he walked to the table and sat down. His feet ached from being stood upon all day and he gratefully propped them up on the chair at a diagonal with him.

“Look, Cela,” he said in a soothing a voice as he could conjure up at the moment, “the poor chap needed help. You might not’ve seen him when he came in, but he was a mess and a poor one, too. I took his last coin for the breakfast that he had here this morning. I can’t very well send a fellow off with nothing in his pockets and even less in his stomach now, can I? What’s the harm of letting the fellow work if he’s a mind to? It’ll do him more good than it will do bad to your dishes.

“Well, maybe not,” he added immediately. “But be that as it may, we can get new bowls and plates if he breaks all of ours. Don’t worry, he’ll get less clumsy the more you let him work here. Bear with me, won’t you?”

[Undómë]

Rowan frowned as she saw Jack back out the kitchen door and set his tray on the bar top. The man seemed a bit frazzled. She narrowed her eyes, watching him. And were his hands shaking? It certainly seemed so. She saw him motion to someone, and there came Tollers. Hmmm….now what was that about? she wondered. She glanced quickly over to where Meliot sat. And what are they talking about…?

The front door opened and two familiar figures stood in the entryway. Primrose! And there at her side was Will, holding the door open and ushering her in. My goodness! And what were they doing here in the main room and not in the kitchen?

She watched as they took a table and settled themselves in. Prim was leaning toward Will, speaking, as Rowan drew near their table. ‘Say, you two! What’s up?’ she asked, leaving the question open ended.

[Noinkling]

Now Dwarves can be as clannish as any folk. And perhaps more so, since there are a certain number that harbor a deep resentment against those chosen to be the Firstborn. Much like any child taken in by a generous parent, there is bound to be some resentment against the natural children; a feeling of being considered second rate in the eyes of the adoptive parent. And of course, it is no help to the Dwarvish sense of pride that the Firstborn have an overweening and outspoken sense of superiority.

Bívor and Bávor huddled close to Skirvir, speaking in low undertones to their cousin. ‘They’re young ones, cousin,’ Bívor offered. ‘Wet behind the ears yet. We can afford them some measure of indulgence. Don’t you think?’ Bávor nodded, saying 'perhaps', and adding the word ‘brats’, and the observation that perhaps such spoiled behavior came of overly indulgent parents.

Skirvir rubbed his forehead, wondering whether it might be easier just to accommodate the Elves. And then perhaps they would go away. And he could go back to his pleasant conversation, his food, his ale, and his pipe.

So it was with some surprise to his two cousins that Skirvir looked up toward the Elves and offered their assistance. ‘My cousin Bívor here,’ he said raising his brows to the left, ‘he plays the flute. And Bávor, there, he has a very fine voice; knows many songs.’

Bívor and Bávor raised an eyebrow each at him. ‘And……..?’ one of them prompted.

‘And I will, of course, participate.’ He poured himself another mug of ale and took a deep drink from it. Placing it carefully down in front of him he rubbed his hands together vigorously. ‘I will clap.’