The Golden Perch Inn

[Forest Elf]

Gable finished up the dishes, stacking the last of the cups and plates. She wiped her hands dry on her apron before placing it back upon its hook.

Gable walked out of the kitchen, where a dwarf, was telling a tale. She listened in on the tale, picturing it taking place in her head as she listened.

[Folwren]

Dick stuck his hands into his pockets as Colren admitted to being hungry. He was glad when a fellow was honest about it. And the poor chap was worried about not being able to pay! Dick shook his head as Colren continued.

"Excuse me, but how were you called again, sir? And what do you mean by tumbling?" the man asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

“I’m Seredic Boffin, at your service,” Dick replied. “Mostly called Dick, though.” He cocked his head to one side and his bright eyes studied the tall, thin figure of the man. “Don’t remember your entrance, hey? Well, now, I’m right glad you happened to come into my door just before falling as you did. Aye, you fell right enough.” He nodded his head. “Came in, plopped down a coin on top the counter, called for ale, and then went out like a candle.

“That coin you paid, too, that’ll be enough for your dinner and a night here and maybe more. Depends on just what you need.” He looked up briefly at the man’s face. “Do you want me to bring you something here, or would you like to come out to the great room? We’ve got some elves and dwarves preparing a few songs for our entertainment. You might enjoy that. And you might find someone to talk to. Won’t you come out?”

[Volo]

Relieved that he guessed most of his words right, he still made a mistake, after all Colren seemed to have money. He was also starting to guess where he was, at least he now knew that this was an inn of some kind. Nice guy, this Dick. For his kindness I have to at least present myself. Ah, can't even remember my name... this tumble, I fainted. That must be the reason for this confusion. But so far all has been fine, I'll just continue like this.

"Master Seredic, nice to meet you! I go by the name..." It must be, "Krohn", I remember I've heared this many times, it's my name! "...Kro..." No, wait, it can't be, I feel that this name is lost... dead. No no no, what is going on. I'm called... "Ne", no. "Nor", yes... wait. No! "Na"? "Naren"? Yes, this is it! What's the difference anyway, I shall be called "Naren", nobody will care if I'm not really "Naren". "...Naren. As for my collapse, I'm quite fine now. I'll come to the hall, I would enjoy music over anything, exept food!"

Colren, or Naren as he now thought of himself, followed Dick to the door but then remembered. "Excuse me, I'll just arrange my belongings and tidy myself somehow. It won't take long." Dick nodded and left the room. "Thank you!" shouted Naren.

Now, some time to see more about my past. Colren sat down on the bed and took out his pouch. It was made of strong leather and by the wait and size did contain something interesting. Hmm... Surelly this can't belong to the same man who is in clothes as ragged as mine. He slowly opened the pouch with his eyes closed... As Colren opened his eyes, he dropped the pouch with and let a shout of astonishment.

His pouch was full of gold! Golden coins! By the look of them, the coins were from Gondor. But that was not all Colren's pouch contained. There were neatly put letters. Colren took the first one, an old and weathered letter and opened it. He read it once, then again, and again. A tear came down his cheak...

The letter was dated III 2937. And written by a woman called Elisi, just a typical love-letter: lots of promises and complaining how evil parents are. But of course to Colren, who still didn't know his real name, for the letter was adressed to "My Love", this meant much. He remembered something, Elisis eyes. He lived with her after her father died. Anything else Colren couldn't understand yet. He also desided to read the rest later.

Colren hid his pouch and exited the room, to confirm the house to be an inn. He walked to the door looking around and examening the smallest details, Colren literaly bumped into a younger but stouter hobbit, smelling of fish. The two fell on the floor. Colren was the first one to recover. He helped the hobbit to his feet and said "I'm terribly sorry. I was lost in my thoughts. Hope you aren't hurt." But the hobbit didn't look hurt, rather suprised. "Oh, my name is Naren." Colren added with a smile.

[Tevildo]

Tollers brushed himself off and extended a hand of welcome to the newcomer. "No bother. No bother at all, Naren . I am pleased to meet you and that your earlier tumble was nothing serious. Lucky thing I wasn't carrying any plates or flagons this time. But don't worry. This mishap was entirely my fault. I'm afraid I was lollygaggling as usual." To tell the truth, the hobbit had been ruminating on his coin and how he might find out about the room the dwarves would be occupying, wondering if he should try to ask Master Dick or do some discreet sleuthing on his own.

Masking his embarrasment, Tollers smoothed out the front of his vest, his fingers instinctively slipping inside the inner pocket to make sure that his treasured coin still rested within its hiding place. To his acute distress, the hobbit discovered his pocket was empty. A look of alarm spread instantly over Toller's face.

"Oh, dear, dear, I seem to have dropped something.....something important," he mumbled to Naren. "You go over by the bar and make yourself at home. Someone will serve you in a minute. You're not from these parts, I think, but the folk around here are quite friendly. I'll join you in just a minute. That is...unless you'd like to help me look. You see, I've lost a coin, a special coin, and must find it immediately."

With that Tollers plopped down on all fours and began crawling about the floor, nosing under tables and chairs to see if his precious gold piece was anywhere nearby. Once or twice, he managed to bump into the feet of some of the guests and apologized for his clumsiness. A number of the customers looked at him in a rather odd way. Tollers wished that someone could help him, although he was afraid that whoever picked up the coin would ask too many tricky questions for him to answer truthfully. Meanwhile, in the background, the hobbit could hear the strains of a lively tune that any lad or lass would find perfectly delightful for dancing.

[Volo]

So, this hobbit also knows me. But not well, that is good. Colren was looking as the poor hobbit started crawling on the floor. And I thought I had no money... How can a coin be so important? Coins are just cold metal. And for some reason I don't feel easy with metal around... After all Colren couldn't just stand there watching the hobbit being kicked by careless feet. He began crouching himself and looking for the peace of metal. I might not like coins because I have lots of them myself, suprisingly.

After a long and pointless search Colren crawled up to his new acquaintance and asked "I'm sorry that you lost your coin, it was really my mistake, for that I have to help. But it would be helpfull if you could describe this coin somehow... Or I could just replace it, people have to pay for their mistakes and that I will do. If you wish." Colren was rather frustrated and really wished that the hobbit would accept Colren's Gondorian coin instead of searching for his own "precious" coin. Also Colren was getting really hungry, of course he tried his best not to show his feelings. Also the music was tempting Colren leave the hobbit to his problems. What am I thinking? This lad needs help, so I'd better help if nobody else wants to. And this is partly my fault. At that Colren smiled a bitter smile.

[Folwren]

Now what was this?

Dick stood in the doorway leading into the Big People’s wing of the house. His arms were folded as he watched Naren and Tollers crawl about the floor on their hands and knees. He chuckled as Tollers emerged from a near by table, red in the face and apologetic for the sixth time as he explained to one of the customers what was going on.

As funny as it seemed, however, Dick knew it wasn’t good business to be bumping into people while they tried to talk. He walked forward to intercept Tollers’ searching and to ask what it was all about. As he drew near, he saw Naren stop near the hobbit and sit up.

“I’m sorry that you lost your coin,” the man said, “it was really my mistake, for that I have to help. But it would be helpful if you could describe this coin somehow…or I could just replace it. People have to pay for their mistakes and I will do that, if you wish.”

Dick stopped a few paces away, wondering. A coin? Where had Tollers acquired a coin? And why was it causing him to crawl over every foot of the common room to search for it? He looked towards Tollers, wondering what his answer to Naren would be.

[Tevildo]

Tollers glanced back over his shoulder at Colren and warily shook his head. Although the hobbit's words were exceedingly polite, the dour look that was spread over his face underlined just how upset he was over the loss of his dear coin, "Oh, no. You're very kind indeed, but I'm afraid this coin can't be easily replaced. You see, it's special. It's very old and has a picture of a dwarf axe on one side."

Tollers hastily bit his tongue and stopped himself from saying anything more. It would not do to give out more information. His friend Jack had told him to be quiet about their find until they could go back and look again. Still, the hobbit knew his precious had to be somewhere nearby. He distinctly remembered hearing something clink and roll away when he'd first taken his tumble.

"I just need to look harder," Tollers muttered to himself. With that, he put his nose to the ground and, like a hound on the trail, redoubled his efforts to locate his missing "precious".

[Forest Elf]

Gable thought she'd head over and talk to Cir and Cir again. She had only walked a few paces when she saw Toller's crawling about, looking for something. Then, to her left a bit, she saw something shiny. She walked over and leaned down, it was a gold coin, with a hammer on one side.

Gable walked over to Tollers, who was still crawling around; and asked holding the gold coin out, "Excuse me, Tollers, but did you loose a gold coin?"

[Tevildo]

Tollers looked up at the Elf and sheepishly nodded. His pants were covered with dustballs, and he had tripped over the feet of at least half a dozen guests. After wiping his dirty palms on the shoulders of his vest, he held out his hand to the Elf and grinned, "Errr...that does seem to be my coin. Thank you. Thank you so much for finding it. I really don't know what I would have done if I had permanently lost it."

This time, Tollers tucked the gold coin securely in the small leather pouch that he wore about his waist. He was still feeling a little nervous about the Elf. He had never seen or talked with such a graceful creature until he'd come to work at the Inn. Some of the staff seemed so free and easy about the Elves, but Tollers always felt as if he had two left feet or perhaps an extra ear stuck to his head whenever he found himself confronting one of the fair ones face-to-face. Still, it would not do to be unfriendly. Master Dick had given Tollers more than one friendly lecture on how he must make an effort to show interest in the guests, even those who might look a little strange on the outside.

Stumbling over his words, Tollers managed to stammer out an invitation, "Looks like the dinner business is slacking off. I'm going to get a little supper. Care to join me? Perhaps listen to the music? And, you too....." He glanced over quizzically at the tall fellow who'd banged into him and wondered if he'd accept an invitation to eat. "You know, I'm just a simple farm lad, but I bet you two both have some wild stories to tell."

For the moment at least, Tollers forgot about the coin and the fact that he wanted to speak with one of the Dwarves later that night.

[Folwren]

Dick felt rather curious about Tollers’ coin, but he had no chance to question him about it. Gable had come near and offered it to him and Tollers and Colren had stood up. A few words passed and Tollers and Colren walked off with each other while Gable hurried quickly from the room. Dick shrugged and decided to leave him without questioning until later, at least.

“I wonder if that’s why he wanted to know where the dwarves were going to sleep tonight,” he murmured to himself as he walked through the common room. “A coin with a dwarven axe on it. . .very old, he said. I wonder where he got it?” He ‘hmmed’ to himself as he cast a quick eye over everyone to make sure nothing was needed.

He only half listened to the songs being sung as he walked quietly about, his mind drifting from one duty to the next and considering the happenings of the day. It had been a very long day. . .Dick welcomed these calmer, more thoughtful songs, melancholy and sad though they were. When Cir and Cir had first asked him if they could play for their keep, he had thought dancing and such, but now, the singing of old songs seemed more fit.

He stopped his progress when he heard the elvish song start. The music accompanying the two voices was more sad than the other two and though Dick didn’t understand the words, the language of the harp and the voices touched and pulled at his heart.

The last notes faded and a silence filled the room momentarily. Dick finally drew a great sigh and turned his eyes away from the performers. His once more glanced around and to his surprise, saw a young woman at the counter. She leaned on it slightly and her eyes, too, were fixed on the singers. Dick hurried forward and went around the counter just as talk was beginning again around the room.

“I’m so sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Can I help you?”

[Envinyatar]

The fair voice of the male Elf was clear and bright in the smoke filled room. And that of his sister wove in and about the lament in a lovely harmony. Hithadan’s gaze swept round the room, gauging the crowd’s reaction. Not many, indeed hardly any of those gathered, would understand what the song was about. But he could read in their faces their appreciation of the great sorrow which lay behind the words.

‘Now tell me Gil-galad’s fate was not sung most sorrowfully and most fair,’ he spoke low to Tavaro. ‘Surely the songs of the lad and of Mistress Tanwen are tinged with sorrow. But that of the Elves just sung is marrow-deep sorrow itself.’

[Volo]

While the elf went to change. Colren and Tollers walked into the corner of the inn and sat down. Colren ordered some basic (but not by Naren-standards) food and beer for the three. I have money. Big money. It mightn't be such a good idea to use them rather openly, but I'm starving. Only, the origin of all this gold is strange...

"Tollers, so you got your coin back and all's well. But I would like to know more about the people here, while our companion is away, I would appriciate if you could tell me."

[Noinkling]

When Taffy had begun to sing, Skirvir had nodded at Bívor, miming as he did so that he pick up his flute. The two Dwarves played very softly, letting the boy’s words be to the fore while their little harmonies gently ran beneath it.

For the woman’s song, it was Skirvir who played along with the man’s fiddle. He had ventured once with his father and a small group of his father’s companions down to the Sea of Rhun. It was the largest body of water the young Dwarf had ever seen. And though now he knew the Great Sea was ten times ten time ten bigger, still the daunting majesty of that smaller sea stayed with him. And when he recalled stories from the older Dwarves of that great water that hemmed in the lands of their world, he was in awe of the fact that men would venture out upon it for any reason.

As the Elves began to play, Bívor once again raised his flute to his lips. But his brother, Bávor, waved him to silence as the first clear notes left Cir’s lips.

‘Now, that was a lovely song, was it not? I can’t say as I understood any of it. But someone much beloved must have died; someone held very dear,’ Bávor said.

Bívor cocked his head at Skirvir. His cousin’s hands were clasped about his ale mug, his eyes peering into it as if were a bottomless well. ‘Now you can’t say that wasn’t as fair a song as you have heard,’ Bívor said, nudging his cousin from his woolgathering.

For his part, Skirvir looked up, meeting Bívor’s gaze. ‘Oh, aye….it was fair, in it’s own way. Bit on the gloomy side. But fair enough, I’ll reckon it.’

Bávor laughed, and topped off his cousin’s mug, as well as his own and his brother’s. ‘A rare compliment from a Dwarf to an Elf!’ In broad gestures he mimed writing on the palm of his hand. ‘I shall have to put this day down in my journal of our trip and mark it with a star, I think.’

Skirvir raised his bushy brows and grumbled something at Bávor. Then shrugged his shoulders grudgingly and drank down half his mug.

[Lilly]

There had not been much sorrow passed through Taffy’s life. His brief eleven years had so far been happy ones. And the song he’d sung, the one he’d learned from his granpa, was only sad to because it made his granpa sad. His granpa's wrinkly face would settle into deeper furrows, and his eyes grow misty when he sang it.

He’d asked his granpa once what it was that made him so sad. The old man had shook his head, swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and then mustered a smile at Taffy. ‘No need to be worrying over your old granpa’s weepy ways, my boy. When you get as old as I am sometimes you remember some things that happened long ago, not all of them sad in them selves, mind you. Sometimes they’re just good things that happened or good people that came into your life and now are gone forever.’ He’d ruffled Taffy’s hair and given him a firmer smile, the boy remembered. ‘Right now you’re just making those memories. Life is good and happy, and that’s the way it should be for you.’

Taffy looked at his parents. They sat very quiet at the end of the Elf’s song. His mother had that glisten in his eye and his father bore a sort of faraway and thoughtful look. This was to be expected he reasoned, them being so much older than he.

Now Taffy did feel a certain sort of sadness from the Elves’ song, enhanced somewhat by his parents’ apparent sorrowful demeanor. He wondered, though, that someone as young as Cir appeared could sing something so sad.

‘Pardon me,’ he said, drawing near to where the Elves stood. ‘I liked that very much. It was really pretty. And seemed very sad, just like you said.’ He made a wry face, his mouth in a small moue. ‘But what was it you were so sad about? Did you lose someone in your family. Or a friend?’

[Tam Lin]

‘But that’s just it, isn’t it,’ Tavaro replied to Hithadan. His eyes were on the young Halfling as the boy spoke to the Elves. ‘His song and that of the man and woman were tinged with sorrow; the sadness bleeding into the joy of being alive. It seems to me that the sorrow of men is enfolded somehow by hope and the simple thankfulness of being alive.’ He smiled softly, turning from the tableau of the boy and Elves back to his friend.

‘That hope, that subtle joy – it makes me glad that the One conceived of them and brought them into being.’ He glanced toward the table where the man and woman sat. For a brief moment his he caught Tanwen’s eye, She was gazing his way it seemed. But at second glance, he noted, it was his companion who drew her study.

[Folwren]

“I can give you a room,” Dick said, “but I’m quite sorry to have to tell you that I can’t get you any mead. I do have a very light brew of beer you might like. Would you be willing to have a go at that? I can draw you up a taste to see how you like it.”

Valesseka seemed to hesitate a moment before she slowly nodded. “That will be fine. Just a full mug.”

Dick nodded and picked up a mug and turned to fill it. He turned again, the foam rising nearly to over flowing and set it on the counter. “What about something to eat? The cook’ll find you something, even this late. What do you say?” He looked up with bright expectant eyes, waiting for her to answer.

[Tevildo]

Tollers grinned back at Colren and responded. "So you want to know what folk are like around here? That's a hard question to answer in a few words. But maybe this will help. Just take a look at those bowls." Tollers nodded towards the center of the table where a number of platters sat overflowing with food. "I slipped them out of the kitchen when the staff wasn't looking. You see, whenever I eat with friends, I prefer the food be served family style, platters and bowls lined up in the middle with everybody reaching out and scrambling to get big spoonfuls onto their plate. That way everybody shares and there's always enough for seconds. That's what my own family did. And that's the way most folk around here are. A family sticks together and shares. If you're rich you might have fancier things in the pot to share. If you're poor, you get by the best you can. Some eat more and some eat less, but nobody in the family goes hungry."

"Most folks around here make family the center of their lives. What happens to their mum or brother is the most important thing in the world. They might even live a mile or two down the road. That's what I do. But they never stop thinking about the folks back home. I'd like to work here a while and then take a little trip adventuring. But at the end of it all, I'll come back to the old burrow and maybe build myself a little house right next door. Maybe help my sisters find hobbit lads who'll be good to them or take care of my dad when he gets too old to do the farming."

Tollers sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "I guess that's not too exciting for the likes of you, but that's how most folk around here think. Now, that's enough of me. Even if our Elf doesn't get back soon, I'm going to insist you tell me where you're from."

[Mithalwen]

The song his sister had started was an old one and Cir realised it had been a good choice since some of the company at least recognised it, even if the words and tune had suffered some variation as they had passed through the years and miles from it's creation.

Those who knew not the words hummed or clapped and it seemed its sprightly, rhythmic tune might inspire the younger of heart and nimble of foot to clear enough space in the busy bar to dance. The elf's slender hands drew music effortlessly from the small harp and the easy joyful melody required little concentration. His bright eyes took in the scene, noting and older elf with a ranger. He did not recognise them but a pang of anxiety struck him wondering if he had some connection with the party of pilgrims the twins had abandoned earlier in the day.

The twins were so used to understanding each other and generally found each other's company sufficient that they had not yet developed much skill in the osanwe kenta but Carantilion knew that older elves could communicate by thought even across great distances. His father in Rivendell could, albeit with great concentration, "speak" to his sister, Mithalwen at the Havens he remembered. He realised at that moment that they had forgotten this fact when reckoning on the time it would take for their parents to find out about their truancy. He sighed and carried on playing - it was to late to worry now and if the elf was come for them he would have said something by now. And he doubted that they could be punished at a distance....

[Farael]

Swing to the left, now swing to the right
Wiggle your HEY! Just dance all night…

“No, wait… that’s not it. Oh, yeah”

Swing to the left, dancing…

“No, that’s even worse. Where am I anyway?” The landscape looked rather different than the last time he had checked. All was well, he had meant to get lost and lost he was now. A deep grumble from his stomach reminded him of his one mistake. He had always wanted to travel, to explore the world and perhaps find that elusive muse that would finally release all his creative potential. He had set out at last, his only destination to be wherever his feet lead him. Sadly, as he soon found out, feet lead nowhere on an empty stomach, and so he had been forced to rely on the generosity of a few farmers along the way. Lucky it was that his feet had chosen the way to The Shire, should they have gone the other way he might have found himself starved in the middle of the wilderness.

If he remembered properly the words of Farmer Stoor, he was now in Stock. Robby knew one thing, and one thing only about Stock. The inn there was almost as good as the Prancing Pony. Of course, no inn could be as good as the good ol’ pony, but it was still a high compliment.

Swing to the right, now swing to the left
and while you are danc…
“Still not there. Making lyrics is a hungry work! And so is all this walking. Now where is that Inn?”

At length, and after walking right by it and not seeing it, twice, the man finally found the Golden Perch. By that time it was hard to tell who was grumbling louder, his stomach or himself.

“Swing to the… Do I ever want to start my song this way? Yes, sure, swinging is good, but is it a good start? How about Tell me’ ma, when I get home… hmmm… the boys won’t leave the girls alone… hmph, well, I will have to work on that, but not until after dinner!”

With that he gently knocked at the door of the Inn. It would not be polite, he figured, to barge in uninvited so late an hour. There was no response, so Robby tried again. Getting slightly impatient, he was about to try one more time, when someone finally opened the door.

[Volo]

As soon as Tollers left, Colren wished the Elf good night and rushed back to his room. Bilbo Baggins... Hmm... This is so familiar, but what, that I don't know... Colren was tired and it was pitch black when he sat down on his bed. He couldn't wait any longer. He opened his pouch and took the next letter by time, it wasn't sent much later after the first letter, but the writer was different. It was written by a strong hand, but nervous. Colren read it carefully a few times:

Dear brother!

I must congratulate and also warn you. Elisi is a fair lass, I am happy for you. But he, our father will be furious if he hears about you marrying a woman of no high position. Father is a good man, he keeps all of us safe, his only problem is his greed. Well you know, he doesn't see any sence in a marriage just by love. If Elisi's family had any money, I'm sure father would be happy to wed you.

Don't worry too much, you can trust me to keep your secret. if you need help, I'm the first one to volunteer. I know I can't do much from here, but in three months when I return home from my study, I'll try to convince father to consider this.

Sorry I can't write more now, I'm called.

-Your older brother

PS: I got the presents you asked me to buy, here in Gondor they sell everything.


The letter was enden in a hurry. Colren sighed, still he didn't know his name. I'll have to continue being Naren... What he did know was that he had an older brother, who studied in Gondor, which must mean that Colren isn't from Gondor after all. Or just didn't live there at the time. Colren learned also about being from a rich family and having a greedy father. No memories came to him this time. He was really sad, Colren felt weak.

Colren dropped the pouch and letter on the floor beside the bed and fell down on his bed. He couldn't sleep most of the night, he was trying to analyze the letter somehow. I'll read more tomorrow, just too tired for that now. And those few lines were enough for now.

[Volo]

Colren felt quite uncomfortalbe, he had no idea what to answer. And he really wished his life was as simple as the hobbit's. I could just say to Tollers that I don't want to tell about my past... That would be better than lying. "Well, Tollers, you see..." No, no, no... This is bad. I have to invent something better. "...well, I'll tell you about myself, but first I'll go wash my hands and tell the cook not to worry about my order. I won't leave you waiting." Or this delicious looking food.

Colren searched for the kitchen. He found it, but just then he understood that there was music, it would have otherwise been a merry song, but now Colren felt as if this too dragged him to some sad memory. This is unbearable, I have to read the letters, I have to. Then I might answer Tollers question better. Thinking, Colren did walk into the kitchen. The cook wasn't there. Colren quickly washed his hands and wandered, should he search the cook to cancel his dinner. He soon desided that he didn't want to meet new people just yet.

Colren walked back to Tollers and sat down. "Now, it seems that our elven friend hasn't come back. What is her name by the way?" Colren tried to seem happy, but inside he was really confused. He began his tale. "Like I told you, my name is Naren. I come from the land of Gondor. There are giant cities in Gondor, but I have never visited them. I'm more of a farmboy myself too. I don't know how my family is doing, which is really sad, but that happens when you go on a adventure. And I don't even really know why I wandered here. I do have interest in history, at the moment I'm studying hobbit-history. If you know somebody who knows more about this or is otherwise interested, please don't keep it a secret. Books would do well." I can't really tell anything else not to be too suspicious, this I might think was a good answer. "But let me excuse me, may I have some food to warm myself." I really hope the elf will come soon...

[Undómë]

Opening the door for Robby Appledore . . .


Rowan could not quite be sure if she heard the knocking or not. The common room was noisy with the babble of many conversations; the last waning claps of appreciation for the Elves’ song; and the sound of table legs scraping across the wood floor. A number of the local men, their bellies filled with good food and Perch ale, were in the mood for dancing and had begun to push back the tables to clear an area.

She almost stepped away when the tapping came again. And this time, since she was standing quite close to it, there was no hesitation on her part. Rowan set down her tray of dishes and dirty mugs on a nearby table and opened the door. For a moment she stood looking at the figure just a few feet away.

The inn’s light swung in the light night’s breeze throwing a pale shine at the man’s back. He was taller than she was, though not as tall as some men that had come to the Perch, and seemed of a sturdy build. Backlit by the lamp’s glow, his hair was of some darkish hue she thought. She could not see his face well, though it seemed it bore a wide smile as she stepped to the side to let him in and the light from the room’s lamps and the fireplace washed over him.

‘Come in! Come in, sir! Let’s not let the night’s chill creep into the room. It’s nice and warm inside,’ she went on motioning him in with a gesture. Closing the door firmly behind him, she pointed to the pegs near the door where other cloaks hung. ‘You can leave yours there if you wish. Plenty of tables,’ she said with an inviting smile. ‘I hope you like music – some of the folk are singing and playing their instruments for us tonight.’ Rowan pointed out a table just at the edge of the newly cleared dance floor. ‘Just set yourself down and I’ll be right back to see what you’d like to eat and drink.’

She picked up her tray of mugs and dishes and made to go to the kitchen. ‘Oh, how rude of me! My name’s Rowan . . . Rowan Muddifoot.’ She flashed him another smile. ‘Be right back!’

[Arry]

‘. . . it's been a long day, wouldn't you say?' Cook said. 'I'll brew some willowbark up for you at the same time, and some for Primrose, too; even if she doesn't say she wants some, she'll probably be needing it just the same.’

Will sat himself down in one of the wooden chairs, watching as Cela bustled about making tea. ‘It has been a long day, Miz Cela,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘Don’t know if I’ll be able to stay up much longer. My arm aches and to be honest so does my head. Just a dull ache, but it’s constant. I think I’ll just have some more of your tea and head off for bed.’ He fingered the seamed edge of the quilted placemat on the table in front of him. ‘And I think you’re right…about Prim, that is. She looks tired, too.’

He shifted a little in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position for his arm. ‘Maybe we can get her to drink another cup of tea and you can get her to go to bed herself.’ His cheeks flushed a little as he went on. ‘I mean…I think it would be better coming from you…being a girl and all…’

[piosenniel]

Rhys was humming as he plucked softly at the strings of his fiddle. Satisfied that the strings were in tune, he picked up his bow and nudged his sister with the tip of it. ‘Shall we do another?’ He nodded to the lads busy moving back the tables. ‘A dance tune, perhaps. You can play the hand drum. It’s there by the fiddle case.

Tanwen ignored the nudge and the question, making some non-committal reply, or rather sounds. Her attention was elsewhere, on a certain table across the room. She cupped her chin in her hands, her elbows resting firmly on the table-top. ‘So, who do you think that fellow is over there? That Elf, that Hithadan’s talking to.’

She twisted in her chair to look at her brother. ‘It’s interesting, don’t you think? When you look at the two of them over there. The Elf is certainly the taller of the two, by a good hand and a half, wouldn’t you say. And he’s not that thin, so he most likely outweighs the Ranger. Still,’ she went on, turning back to watch the two of them again, ‘Hithadan seems the bigger of the two, doesn’t he?’

[Rose]

‘Fills out his tunic quite well, that one does!’ Penstemon chuckled. ‘That’s what my gran would always say about the ones she took a shine to when the lads came to court and spark my sisters and me.’

She cast an eye at Rhys and gave a nod to Tanni. Leaning toward Rhys, Granny crooked her finger at him, urging him to come closer. ‘She have a fellow waiting back home for her?

Penstemon chuckled again seeing the look on his face. ‘Thought as not!’ She patted his hand as a look of sympathy crossed her features.

[Farael]

Comein!Comein,sir!Let’snotletthenight’schillcreepi ntotheroom.It’sniceandwarminsideYoucanleaveyoursth ereifyouwish.Plentyoftables,Ihopeyoulikemusicsomeofthefolkaresingingandplayingtheirinstrumentsf orustonight.’

The lady hobbit pointed at a table on one corner of the room. Was she even breathing while talking?

Robby was still trying to digest her first outburst of talk when she added ‘JustsetyourselfdownandI’llberightbacktoseewhatyou ’dliketoeatanddrink.’.

Then she picked up a tray full of (empty) mugs and dishes and started walking away. She had not gone too far when she added, mercifully slow enough for Robby to understand, ‘Oh, how rude of me! My name’s Rowan . . . Rowan Muddifoot. Be right back!’

‘That is one busy hobbit’ Robby thought as he settled on a chair by the table she had pointed at. Looking around the room he could see he was not the only guest. It seemed to that there were some other hobbits, two dwarves and many men and women in the room. Some of the men were rather ordinary looking, much like himself, but others were much fairer than most. Indeed two of them were sitting in a makeshift stage, seemingly getting ready to play another song. The two were really good looking, Robby wondered if they were from Rohan. He had heard people from that land were very fair. Yet he had been told the Rohirrim had golden hair and the musicians had dark locks.

“All the same, how lucky of me!” he thought, “I might just be able to showcase my talents tonight… if I could only come up with a song worth singing!” he sighed “Alright, let’s try this again”

Let’s have a drink, for the old times, the good old times
take another sip there’s always… He started humming to himself, but then he stopped short

“What is there always? Good friends? Great company?” … good friends and compan “No, that’s too long… love?”
Let’s have a drink, for the old times, the good old times
take another sip there’s always love…

“Drinking and love? Well, what you feel when you drink is not love, that’s for sure” Robby laughed out loud at his own wit and banged on the table. Then he was aware, very aware, that he was on a common room filled with strangers. Some of those strangers seemed to turn around and look at him with interest. Or were they glaring at him?

“Either way, Appledore you fool! You want to make a good impression on these folks, not scare them away. To go around banging on tables like a drunkard, what were you thinking?” he chided himself. “Well, I better just sit here and keep to myself, at least until Miss Rowan comes back.”

[Tam Lin]

Tavaro chuckled as he looked from the ginger-haired woman back to his friend. Hithadan was blithely unaware of her blue-eyed scrutiny; his eyes were taking in the two newcomers to the inn. Sizing them up, weighing them.

‘Be back in a moment,’ the Elf said, rising from his chair. His destination was not the table where the man and woman sat with the elder Halfling lady, but rather the table where the three Dwarves sat.

He gave a nod to the large fellow with the reddish brown hair; the one who had neither played nor sung when the two young Elves made their music. The other two Dwarves, whether by nature or by the quantity of ale which buoyed them up, he found more welcoming. In an easy manner he complimented them on their flute playing and asked if they might accompany him in a song. There was a whispered conference among the three of them, in which a few bars of some song were hummed; the words to it spoke low and finally agreed upon.

Tavaro returned to his table and fetched the pack stashed by his chair. From it he drew out a fair sized something wrapped in a soft, sea blue, finely woven stole. His harp. The Elf’s long, slender fingers ran over the strings and with a few quick twists of the metal pins which held the various strings, the harp was brought into tune.

‘This is an old song, from an old place west of here,' he began, looking about the room. 'A lovely land of trees, hills, green grass, and rivers, that the great sea has now swallowed up. There were men and women living in that place whose fair tongue is now mostly lost in the passing years. Many of the Eldar made their homes in that land and Dwarves, too, resided there.'

‘It’s an old theme, too . . . a familiar, and oft inescapable one . . .’ He raised one eyebrow slightly and smiled as if to himself. ‘But here, let us begin it and let you good folk judge for yourself.’ He nodded to Bívor who lifted his flute to his lips and began the melody. Tavaro joined him, picking out the tune on the harp strings. His fair voice sang the old words softly as Bávor spoke the words in the common tongue . . .


Tá mé mo shuí ó d’éirigh’n ghealach aréir
Ag cur teine síos gan scíth is á fadó go gear
Tá bunadh a tí ‘na luí is tá mise liom féin
Tá na coiligh ag glaoch ‘san saol ‘na gcodladh ach mé.

I am up since the moon arose last night
Putting down a fire again and again and keeping it lit
The family is in bed and here am I by myself
The cocks are crowing and the country is asleep but me.

‘Sheacht mh’anam déag do bhéal do mhalaí is do ghrua
Do shúil ghorm ghlé-gheal fár thréig mé aiteas is suairc
Le cumha do dhiaidh ní léir dom an bealach a shiúil
Is a charaid mo chléibh tá na sléibhte gabhail idir mé ‘s tú.

I love your mouth, your eyebrows and your cheeks
Your bright blue eyes for whose sake I gave up hunting the wily fox
In longing for you I cannot see to walk the road
Friend of my bosom, the mountains lie between me and you.

Deireann lucht léinn gur claoite an galar an grá
Char admhaigh mé é no go raibh sé ‘ndiaidh mo chroí istigh a char
Ó aicid ró-ghéar, faraor nár sheachain mé í
Chuir sí arraing is céad go géar trí cheart-lár mo chroí.

Learned men say that love is a fatal sickness
I never admitted it until now that my heart is broken
It’s a very painful illness, alas, I have not avoided it
And it sends a hundred arrows through the core of my heart.

Casadh bean-tsí dom thíos ag Lios Bhéal an Átha
Is d’fhiafraigh mé díthe an scaoilfeadh glas ar bith grá
Is é dúirt sí os íseal i mbriathra soineannta sáimh
“Nuair a théann sé fán chroí cha scaoiltear as é go bráth.”

I met a faerie woman in the Rath of Béal an Átha
I asked her would any key unlock the love in my heart
And she said in soft, simple language
“When love enters the heart it will never be driven from it.”

[Celuien]

After Will left for the kitchen, Primrose leant back in her chair to listen to the music filling the common room. Despite all the folk gathered in the room, she felt lonely. Other than Will, her friends were all busy. Primrose wanted nothing more than to join the bustle of the kitchen, chatting with Rowan or Cela while ladling soup into a bowl. Except, maybe, to tease Will (with Cela's help).

Between loneliness and the sad melody played by the Elf, Primrose began to feel a little downhearted until she spotted Will and Cela heading for her table with steaming mugs in hand. Not a moment too soon, she thought.

Reaching for the mug of tea Cela offered, Primrose asked, "How are things in the kitchen?"

[Forest Elf]

Gable was a little surprised to hear that the others had found out about her almost fall on the roof of the stables. But she also had expected it because news about such things travels fast in the shire, even if they’re not as fast as elves. News travels fast around here, though she didn't expect it to travel this fast.

“Well, actually, I love to hear Bilbo’s stories. The Shire isn’t quite like being at home, but with what happened this morning, things are probably going to be…different.” Gable replied, thinking about the wolf, and pony again. A thoughtful look crossed over her face, wondering about why a wolf would be so close to the shire… And why would a wolf be driven to attack a pony, and the pony’s owner, where ever he/she is, and whether or not they’re alive...

[Noinkling]

At the end, Skirvir had joined in with his cousins, bringing out his own flute to accompany the Elf’s song. It was an old song, just as the fellow had said. And Skirvir recalled his grandfather singing parts of it and telling of those lands long ago that had sunk below the sea. That was a time when Dwarves and Elves were not at such odds as they seemed now.

‘Well done, lads!’ he said to Bívor and Bávor. ‘Let’s have another round of ale here, miss!’ he called to the server as she passed by. He glanced up at the Elf, watching as he set his harp carefully on the floor near him. Skirvir looked him over closely, narrowing his eyes as if trying to make some sort of decision.

From their own seats, the cousins looked at Skirvir in surprise as he motioned to the Elf to catch his attention and then proceeded to invite him to the table to down a pint with them.

[Valesse]

In a somewhat lost and distant voice Valesseka heard herself saying "Yes, please." to Dick the bright eyed innkeeper. She was much busier trying to take in all of the late activity around her when her attention was drawn to a light knocking on the door.

No, it's not my place to go answering doors for an inn. Why would someone be knocking anyways? Well, I guess it is late...

Valesseka stared at the round door for a moment before lifting her mug to drink. It was a fairly good brew... a really good brew, infact! and from the smell outside the food would be savoury and delicious also. Quickly forgetting the about the door-rapping, Valesseka sat down and took another swig of the stuff only to be lured into a trance by the musical elves. She was quite happy here, and somewhere in the back of her mind decided that she needed a nice long rest before continuing on her journey home.

As the elves sang and played she could feel herself starting to hum along with their merry sound until, at last, the sound of knocking came again. Vainly she hoped someone would answer it quickly, she had far too much beer and elven music to delight in to be bothered much longer by that silly round door.