The Golden Perch Inn

[Lilly]

Taffy works up the courage to speak to Cir and Cir


Taffy grew restless on the hard wooden chair; no amount of wriggling could make it any more comfortable. His mother and father were busy discussing the next day’s business – lucky for him, really, since their attention was turned away from him. He hopped down from his seat as quietly as he could and made his way toward the table where the Dwarves were sitting.

On his way, he saw a curious sight. A hobbit crawling about on hands and knees looking for something. He had been joined by one of the Big Folk. And even with his help, it seemed that luck eluded the Hobbit. But there was one of the Fair Folk, a pretty lady. Her sharp eyes had found the little trinket and handed it back to the Hobbit. Taffy smiled and nodded his head. He liked things to turn out well.

A glance back at the Dwarves’ table put him back on his little mission. He crept closer, stopping a little ways away. He didn’t want to bother the Dwarves and their company – two Elves. He just wanted to see what interesting things they were doing.

Two of them had flutes, while another seemed to be clearing his throat and humming. Oh! I’ll bet he’s going to sing! Taffy thought to himself. Skirvir did not seem that much into the festivities. Perhaps he was just resting after the grand story he’d told earlier. The Elves, too, had their instruments. Now Taffy had heard that the Fair Folk had wonderful voices. And when they sang it was as if the wind sang through the trees.

Unable to resist, the boy stepped up to the table and looked up at the Elves. The back of his neck grew hot and he could feel a flush creeping up to his cheeks.

‘Pardon me,’ he said, his voice a little croaky as his mouth had suddenly become quite dry. He fixed his eyes on the fair faces of the Elves. ‘Are you going to sing some Elvish songs for us?’

[Valesse]

More than a bit exhausted from her travels, Valesseka had stumbled into a little establishment with curiously short beings running around in it. Completely uncertain to what they were, she was at first careful to not inspect one too closely. That was, however, until she caught scent of some savory smell waffing down from the air. Certainly this community of small beings must be excellent chefs, and Valesseka was not one to miss a good meal.

She found the Golden Perch Inn easily, but finding the door took a far greater amount of time. Who had ever heard of a round door? A round green door at that! Double checking to make sure that she was, indeed, about the enter the inn and not some curious halfling's house Valesseka ducked her way inside. Here there were many tiny folk. Several more than she had seen outside, for sure, and that excited her. When she straightened out again from navigating through the doorway, the Arnorian took in more of the commonroom. to her right the counter and before her a large fireplace which paled in comparison to the warm atmosphere the room was given by the clients.

Simply put, Valesseka felt very much at home here. Perhaps so much so that she would prefer to stay a night or two to regain her energy to head along once more toward home. Forgetting the counter for now, Valesseka sat down in a very inviting looking chair before surveying the room once more.

[Volo]

When the hobbit said "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", Colren became sad. Not understanding why, but guessing that it was some hidden memory. What do I have against coins... or dwarves? Coins are just coins and dwarves... well, they are just dwarves, no reason to dislike them. Still Colren didn't like the idea of this.

An elf came and gave the hobbit, Tollers his coin. That is that. Now, without any more messing, to eat! Though, this elf woman... Colren couldn't place an elf into his life, but he didn't feel too happy about them either. Neither elves seemed mysterious Hobbits on the other side, they are really nice. Live a happy life, what else could anyone want. He did feel that he would talk much more with the strangers in the inn.

As Colren was brushing his clothes clean and watching somewhere into the corner, Tollers managed to say something about supper, music and joining him. Corlen turned and looked Tollers into his eyes. The hobbit continued "You know, I'm just a simple farm lad, but I bet you two both have some wild stories to tell." "A simple farm lad" doesn't sound so bad. But how can I know, doubt that I would be a good farmer... I'd be happy to chat with Tollers, but the elf... Oh, I'll try... "Wild stories", I can't really be telling those, I know less wild stories than any hobbit. At the moment. The elf can do the storytelling! Colren smiled again. "It would be an honor to eat with you two. If it's fine with you, let's sit in a corner." Colren turned to the elf, "I am Naren. Rarelly meet so easygoing elves..." Huh? Why did I say that? Aargh, this hidden memory makes me mad! I might not even want to know the answer to all this. Why can't I just live peacefully? Colren's smile wasn't real anymore.

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan sat back in his chair, his hand going up to rub the back of his neck. ‘Ah, well, I did have someone I thought would need keeping watch on. A shady looking fellow I had my eye on before he came to the inn. He looked a ruffian or near enough one that I wanted to make sure he didn’t bother the good folks hereabouts.’

He took a swallow of the tea Tavaro had poured for him and watched as the Elf continued to sketch. ‘What about you? What business brings you here?’

[Mithalwen]

Cir had taken the harp for himself. He could play flutes and the like well enough but stringed instruments seemed to have more individual personalities, of course it would not provide the same excuse not to sing. He touched its strings, it was small and horribly out of tune but he could soon fix that at least and it seemed sweet voiced enough. His slender hands had turned the pegs gently trying each note gently so as not to disturb the company until they started properly. His ears were able to distiguish the harp's notes at a level almost inaudible to mortals and he finished with a pianisimmo glissando.

He was ready to begin, when a voice sounded tentatively at his side ‘Pardon me are you going to sing some Elvish songs for us?’.

Carantilion looked at Taffy, mesmerised a little by the hobbit child, "Well we thought we would mainly sing things that everyone might know and tunes for dancing" but seeing the child's face drop in disappointment he added " but we will sing some Elvish songs if you want us to but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that?".

[Valesse]

Valesseka frowned to herself. There was a pair of elves not far from her, accompanied with an even smaller version of the short beings which filled this place, and though she could clearly hear Taffy and Carantilion speaking to one another, she could not hear a single note the other elf had played on his harp.

Trying not to be obvious about it, the Arnorian leaned in toward the trio. It had been a while since she had heard any decent music. There was very little to sing about on the road she had just travelled, and for most of the journey she lacked the spirit to consider it.

Suddenly noticing her thirst she abandoned her post and slid toward the counter and waited semi-patiently for a working to catch sight of her. Hopefully it wouldn't be a long wait. The elves looked about ready to preform and Valesseka did not want to miss a moment of it.

[Lilly]

. . . but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that?

Taffy found the Elf’s voice quite bewitching, and he could not feature at first how such a lovely voice could deliver unhappy sounds. He craned his head to the right and looked up at the fair face. As lovely as the fellow’s voice was, the Elf’s features were even more delightful.

Except his eyes…

They were grey; the sort of grey as hovered over the river and the lakes near Taffy’s home. A sad sort of grey that for a moment made the young Hobbit feel as if he were in the presence of something very, very old.

The boy looked away. Sad or not, though, the words and tunes might be, Taffy thought, he had a longing to hear them.

‘Well, my Granpa sings sad songs, too, sometimes. Especially when the little forest near us turns from fall towards winter and the river gets a little crust of ice along its banks. We have a nice little fire in the fireplace and tell stories and Granpa gets down his little fiddle and sings . . . songs about things he remembers from way back.’

Taffy stepped back from Cir a ways, so that he could see the Elf without craning his neck. ‘Here’s one my Granpa sings and we all get real quiet when he does. He makes it sound so sad with his voice and his fiddle.’

He stood tall, as his Granpa said he should when he sang, and clasped his hand behind his back. The first few notes were hesitant as he tried to recall the tune, then his little boy’s voice rang out soft and pure.

Oh! Calm was the lake of Coolfin on that day,
When o'er its wide waters we glided along,
No cloud in the heavens o'er shadow'd our way,
And light hearted laughter was join'd in our song.

The wild winds of Winter now sweep o'er the lake,
The snowdrift lies deep on its desolate shore,
The roll of the thunder its echoes awake,
And summer time smiles on its bosom no more.

As bright is the sunshine of youth's early day,
As gay are the pleasures our life may begin;
In this world below they must soon pass away,
And be overcast as the lake of Coolfin....

The last note faded away and he looked expectantly toward the Elf.

‘Well, there you go. One of my Granpa’s sad songs. Your turn…’