The Golden Perch Inn

[Farael]

It wasn’t going to be a night for song-making, that was as sure as sunrise. The man, Edric, seemed to be really eager to make conversation and it would be poor manners not to talk to him. ‘By all means, do join me. Robby Appledore from Breeland at your service’ he stood up and offered his hand to the stranger ‘I myself have just walked in, I was lost in thought and my feet lead me this way. Well met I say, this Inn sure feels cozy although…’ he lowered his voice almost to a whisper ‘I know an Inn that is even better than this one. The hobbit folk are great hosts, but nothing tops the Prancing Pony Inn and that’s a fact. I don’t know if you have visited it during your stay in our city, but I think not because if you had tried that sweet ale you would have never left! Ha!’ He laughed out loud and banged his hand on the table; drawing again gazes from other people.

Then Rowan came, carrying some delicious looking dishes. When the table was set both men dedicated themselves to the food. It was only after their hunger was (partially) quenched that Robby talked again. “Yes, you are right. Miss Rowan is a lovely young lady, even more so for the great food that she brings to us.’ He smiled broadly and took a good swig of ale ‘Still my friend, you must have heard some very interesting stories both in Rohan and in the land of Gondor. Perhaps you would care to share some? Because, well…” his voice trailed off, all of a sudden he felt insecure, almost inadequate “well, I am a bit of a song writer myself. From what I have heard of these folks I am no match to their skill and yet perhaps you can tell me something to… to inspire me”

Perhaps it was the cheerful look on this stranger’s face or perhaps it was the relaxed atmosphere but before he realized it, Robby was out-talking Edric himself. “See, I am no musician. I am a farmer, son of a farmer from a farming family. Back home… well, they did not want me to make music. ‘Lines and poems? Carrots and potatoes is what you should spend your time thinking of’ but yet it is like a calling, you know? I did not choose music, music chose me. I must follow my calling and so I am travelling the world now, seeking for that elusive inspiration. Perhaps if I found the elves, they are said to be very inspiring. But elves are not easy to find anymore. Perhaps I should ask that fair folk over there. The singers and such. They all look so beautiful perhaps they have seen an elf or two.” He gazed at them, so fair and yet somehow strange to the eye.

‘Nonsense Appledore. They are just beautiful men, stop your dreams or soon you will convince yourself that they are elves after all’

[Valesse]

For how late it was the Golden Perch was still certainly busy with the heart-moving sounds of elven harps and dwarven flutes and bare, hairy feet tapping and knee patting. It seemed almost impossible for the Arnorian, who had been for so long without music, to place her attention elsewhere, but it was.

Valesseka hadn't been watching Edric, just like she hadn't been watching Appledore. She was staring at them in a half-dazed distant look which could only mean thoughtfulness. They weren't elves like many of the preformers, nor were they dwarves or these bizzare half-sized people which seemed to fill the place most effectively. They were men, and being who she was, Valesseka was curious about them. One, Edric, looked rather worn to her, as if he had also come from a long journey, but he was of quite high spirits. Maybe that was just his nature... Appledore she couldn't quite pin down, just as she could not hear what he was saying to Edric. Now completely absorbed in the two, she was careless to consider exactly how direct her gaze was becoming or how hungry the smell of the halfling's cooking was making her.

[Volo]

Colren was gulping the tasty food while Tollers and the Elf were talking. He was just about to bite a piece of good dark bread when a rusty gear clicked in his head. Mister Bilbo Baggins... Colren put his bread back on the table beside his plate. "Sorry, Tollers, but this Bilbo Baggins. What did he do? I feel like I have heard of him, long ago..." This is important. Something long lost... Hmm... Baggins, a hobbit...

"I'm sorry, I'll finish the meal, but I'll have to leave soon. There is something I wish to check. Don't feel offended, I really appriciated this and I wish that we'll talk again later. Thank you..." Colren started eating up slowly thinking about the name Baggins.

[Firefoot]

For once, Cela caught herself from saying the first thing that came to mind, which had been along the lines of “perfectly fine.” For one thing, it was not entirely true. Not that she couldn’t handle it on her own; the kitchens just lacked a certain spark without someone cooking alongside her. “Going along, getting along,” Cela allowed with a sort of half shrug. “Quiet, though. It’ll be nice to have you back when you’re well.

“For now, though, drink that whole mug of tea. If you’re feeling any more pain, it will help that, and it’ll help you sleep tonight, too. And speaking of which, it’s starting to get late; it’s been a rough day for you and I’d like for you to get a full night’s sleep tonight. Then if you’re up to it, perhaps you can do some of the lower-key work in the kitchen tomorrow.”

[Tam Lin]

‘My stars, I think they are having us over for a drink!’ Tavaro smiled graciously toward the table where the four Dwarves sat, nodding his head in acceptance. ‘You do want to come, don’t you? I haven’t had the chance to speak with Stonemasters since I walked in the Grey Mountains years ago.’

The Elf wrapped his harp back in its covering and slid it into his pack. Shouldering the leather rucksack, he cocked his head toward the beckoning Dwarf his grey eyes on Hithadan’s face. ‘Yes? No?’

[Lilly]

Try as he might, Taffy could scarcely stifle the yawns as he listened to the songs. Not that the words were in the least boring, they were really quite lovely and he thought how his granpa would have asked they be sung again so that he might remember them. Nor was it that the tunes dragged on, either. The sounds of the flutes and fiddle and the harp were wonderful, all woven together. He shrugged his shoulders and wiggled a bit on his chair trying to invigorate himself a little. But it was all to no use. The activities of the full day spent traveling to Stock were taking their sure toll on him.

During one of his more spectacular yawns, his mother nudged his father, smiling at the sight of their ‘big’ boy. ‘Go on there, Mister Sandybanks,’ she admonished him lightly. ‘See to your son.’

Taffy’s head was nodding as his father came up from behind and clasped his shoulder lightly. There was no word of protest as Taffy slid off his seat and nestled against his father’s side, letting the older man steer him off toward bed.

‘There’ll be plenty of time to see your new friends and say your good-byes before we have to leave tomorrow.’ Taffy nodded sleepily as he shed his breeches and tunic and crawled into bed, snuggling deep beneath the quilts. Seren was already fast asleep on her side of the mattress; she made some little sound as he rocked the bed, then turned over and went promptly back to dreaming.

‘Mami and I will be in soon,’ Taffy’s father told him, leaving a lantern lit and hooded for a night light. But even before Madoc left the room, he could hear the boy’s soft snores.

As he slid back into the chair next to Lila, she patted him fondly on the arm. ‘What say we finish up the last of our tea here, then off to bed ourselves,’ he heard her say. ‘

‘Just thinking that myself,’ he said, laying his hand on hers. ‘You go on ahead first, though. I want to see to Marigold. Got to make sure that stone she had lodged in that back hoof didn’t cause any real problems. Don’t want to take her out lame tomorrow.’

Lila reached for her mug of tea and sipped on it. ‘Been hearing some pretty songs tonight, haven’t we?’ She glanced toward the Dwarves and the two younger Elves. ‘Who’d have thought we’d be hearing Elves sing here in the Perch. And Dwarves, no less. Land sakes! No one’ll believe us back on the island.’

‘Well now, don’t go worrying over what the neighbors will believe or not. We know we saw it and heard it, and that’s all as matters.’ Madoc leaned back in his chair, his arm resting along the back of Lily’s chair. I am a lucky man! he thought to himself, sneaking a quick look at his dear wife’s face in profile.

[Envinyatar]

‘I’ll sit this one out, I think, my friend.’ Hithadan handed up the Elf’s leather satchel and the hawthorn staff Tavaro had leaned against the wall. ‘You go and see to the Dwarves and their never-empty flagons. Be careful, though, I think that they might be able to drink even you under the table.’ He laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘Catch up on old news and new, and whatever rumors they might have heard on their travels here.’ His face took on a more serious aspect. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know then if there’s anything I need to hear about, won’t you?’

The Ranger watched as the Elf made his way to the other table. He smiled, seeing how Tavaro made himself quite comfortable among his new tablemates.

With a few long strides, Hithadan made his own way to where Rhys and Tanni sat, talking with Granny Greenhill. ‘Wanted to wish you all a good-evening,’ he said coming to stand near their table. I have some things to see to tonight.’ He nodded to Rhys and smiled at Granny and then Tanwen. ‘It’s been my pleasure to have spent such an enjoyable evening in your company. I hope to see you tomorrow if you’re still at the inn.’