The Golden Perch Inn

[Lilly]

Away From the Inn – Delivering the Post


‘Hold steady, Jolly! There’s a good lad.’ Hugh secured the leather satchel, still bulging with letters and packages, to the pommel of his pony’s saddle. He heaved his leg up over Jolly’s back next and settled himself in for the ride.

With a resolved sigh he gave a little kick to the pony’s flanks and hung on tightly. Jolly was a fine little companion, a stolid trouper on the post route. And Hugh appreciated him no end. But to be honest, Hugh preferred to walk with Jolly ambling alongside - the pony did not have the smoothest of gaits.

‘I hope we’re not too late for a hot mug of tea at Miz Boffin’s.’ He smiled and nodded at the thought of it. ‘And a large slice of her seedcake. Yes, indeedy do. Mayhap, two.’ He laughed aloud at the chance rhyme, startling a sparrow on a nearby alder branch. ‘Got plenty of news to share with the old gal, don’t I?

Jolly trotted along at a steady, if jolting pace. He flicked his ears now and then and made the occasional snort as if trying to participate in Hugh’s solitary converse. He was rather fond of Miz Boffin, himself. She always had a nice nosebag of oats waiting for him. He increased his pace a bit, noting, without comment, the subsequent groan from his rider.

[Undómë]

Rowan and Prim brought out two more large skillets of eggs and ham and several more baskets of toast. Then, seeing that most of those gathered in the common room had filled their plates and gotten their mugs of tea or ale, they fetched themselves their own generous helpings of food and cups of sweet, hot tea with cream. They sat down at a table near the door from the common room to the kitchen and tucked into their meal with gusto.

The Shiriff had climbed up on one of the smaller tables mid room and was entertaining questions and suggestions from the gathered crowd. ‘Now that’s a good idea,’ he said pointing his half piece of well buttered toast at Gaffer Longhole. ‘I do recall when Andwise went missing, back up in the hills. Got a nice big search party together. Broke ‘em up into smaller groups and sent ‘em out.’ He took a bite out of his toast and munched it for a bit. ‘Problem is, back then we knew in a general way where Andwise had gone off to.’ A number of fellows sitting with the gaffer nodded their heads at the Shiriff’s point. ‘Of course, we haven’t yet asked if anyone’s seen anything that could point us in the right direction,’ Rusty continued. ‘There were some reports of late of a couple of suspicious looking fellows down south along the river. Big folk, they were. Making their way in a northerly direction according to my sources.’ The Shiriff’s glance fell for a moment on the Ranger, his brow raising slightly before moving on. ‘Course I don’t know why Big Folk would be in the least concerned about Miz Cela.’

‘Well, maybe she caught them at something, or knew something about them they didn’t want spread about,’ offered one of younger Hobbits. Hamfast, it was, a lad known for his vivid imagination and ability to spin large tales from small happenings. ‘Maybe it was them that kidnapped her.’ In his mind, Hamfast was already sorting through the dire conclusions of this storyline. Master Smallburrow reined in Hamfast’s imaginings a bit saying it was best not to start tales before there was some real evidence.

‘Is there anyone here,’ the Shiriff went on, ‘who saw anything earlier this morning as they made their way to the Inn? Any little thing out of the ordinary on the road?’ He glanced round the room. ‘Or any odd noises or goings-on heard in the night here round about? It was a mild night last night . . . any of you who slept with your windows open hear something that might help us. Think hard.’ He looked at some of the younger folk who were staying at the inn. ‘Were any of you sneaking about last night, hungry or thirsty, and looking for a bit of food or something to drink. Did you see or hear Miz Cela or anyone else?’

As the Shiriff waited for someone to come forward, Rowan leaned in toward Prim. 'Let's go back to Cook's room and poke around a bit.' Prim's eyes widened at the suggestion. Rowan nudged her on the arm. 'Come on, Prim. We can't just do nothing. I'm sure if we look hard enough we can turn up some sort of clue; don't you think?'

[Rose]

‘Thick as thieves!’ Granny Greenhill pursed her lips at the sight of Rowan and Prim leaning near each other, talking quietly, their dark heads almost touching. She couldn’t make out what either was saying, but she caught the hesitation evident in Prim’s face at something Rowan had said, and then the reassuring hand Rowan laid on Prim’s arm.

That gesture seemed to bring some resolve to Prim’s tentativeness. Granny watched as the two eased themselves from their seats and made their way from the common room in as inconspicuous a manner as they could manage.

‘Now just where are those two off to, I wonder?’ Granny murmured to herself. Curious, she followed after them.

[Tiffany Aching]

‘Now where’s Will?’ Miribelle flicked the reins lightly against Cookie’s back, urging the pony nearer to the stable. Drawing up to the open stable doors, she peered in. She didn’t see Will about his morning tasks. Her ears brought no sound of him working in one of the stalls.

Stepping down from her cart, Miribelle led Cookie into the stable; unharnessed him, and secured him in one of the stalls. ‘Sorry,’ she said, as she latched the door. ‘You’ll have to make do with the hay for now, my dear. When I see Will I’ll have him fix you a small bag of oats.’ Cookie twitched his tail in a seemingly irritated manner. ‘You’ll survive,’ she said in a firm voice as she turned away. Miribelle heard Cookie snort as she made her way out of the stable.

Shiriff Smallburrow was in mid sentence as she pushed open the door and entered the inn. ‘.....who saw anything earlier this morning as they made their way to the Inn? Any little thing out of the ordinary on the road? Or any odd noises or goings-on heard in the night here round about? It was a mild night last night . . . any of you who slept with your windows open hear something that might help us. Think hard.’

‘What’s going on?’ she whispered to one of the local lads who stood against the wall just inside the entryway. The common room seemed all ajumble this morning. Over there, some tables had been drawn together with skillets of scrambled eggs and baskets of toast offered buffet style – how odd! And there was the Shiriff standing on one of the tables, asking questions – odder still.

The lad whispered back that Miz Cela had disappeared sometime during the night or early morning. No one knew when, really, or even why. Now that the Shiriff was here they were trying to figure out what to do.

Miribelle frowned and shook her head. What were things coming to, to have something of this sort happen? she wondered. She thanked the lad as she let her gaze drift round the room, looking for a familiar face she might invite herself to sit down with.

[Tam Lin]

Tavaro leaned back against the wall at the rear of the room, his shoulders resting lightly against the wood. He sipped slowly at his mug of sweet tea, savoring the warm liquid. Last night he’d been hard put to sleep; too many remembrances had ridden in through his opened window, sorrows borne on the cool night wind.

He’d left the inn and walked the better part of the night, sliding through the darkness beneath the trees as silent and as swiftly as an owl. Clouds scudded across the dark sky parting now and then to bring him brief glimpses of the stars. Their silvered light gave him no comfort. Now, in the day’s light, in the warmth of this small, close room, he was glad to be in the presence of the gathered periain, taking comfort in the ebb and flow of the small ordinary moments of their lives. Even in the midst of their present predicament they were so full of vitality.

The Elf’s glance fell on a familiar face; Miribelle Rushybanks, there at the door. He stepped forward and raised his hand in greeting, motioning for her to join him at one of the tables. He sat his mug on the table top and stood waiting for her to cross the room.

[Envinyatar]

Despite the ongoing promptings from the Shiriff, no one had come forward with any tangible information as yet. It seemed the majority of those gathered in the common room this morning had proved too sound sleepers for the passed night.

Hithadan, too, had passed the night wrapped tight in slumber, aided by a cup of warmed wine infused with willow-bark powder. His leg now felt somewhat better; he was able to put weight on it without the aid of his crudely fashioned walking stick. His ankle, too, seemed less swollen. He wished now, though, that he’d foregone the remedy. Perhaps, then..... He shook his head, chiding himself for letting his thoughts drift in that manner.

He made his way to a small table at the edge of the room, positioning the chair so that he could survey the room. At the corner of his eye he caught a furtive movement inching along the back wall. Someone was making his way toward the entry way to the kitchen. The figure looked familiar – brown tattered cloak, dark green checked cap pulled low on his brow. And that slight limp, that hitch in his step as he moved his right leg forward. Mungo . . . Mungo Brandybuck. Not one of the more celebrated members of the Brandybuck family. A smalltime thief – hen stealer, egg robber, mushroom poacher. One who helped himself to the prizes found in other folks’ traps. A partial list only of his mean accomplishments.

And one of those who would most likely not have been at home, asleep, last night.....

A few more steps and Mungo would be at the door and out of the inn once he’d made his way through the kitchen. Had the Shiriff’s call for someone to step forward with anything out of the ordinary they’d seen last night spooked him? Had he seen or heard something and not wanted any questions as to why he’d been where he’d been.

Hithadan stood and called out in a loud voice. ‘Mungo Brandybuck! Stop right where you are!’

Mungo paused for the briefest of moments and then only to glare at the Ranger. He dove toward the door.

‘Someone stop him!’ Hithadan yelled, pointing his stick at the fleeing Hobbit.....

[Rose]

The ranger’s voice rang out above the general hubbub in the common room, just catching the attention of the elder Hobbit as she made her way to the kitchen entryway. Rose and Prim had already gone past the door and ducked into the hallway leading to their rooms and that of the missing cook.

Granny Greenhill stopped dead in her tracks at the man’s command, and just in time, it seemed, as the object of the ranger’s attention came hurtling toward her. Mungo had thrown his hands and arms in front of him, intending to push her out of the way. Her old limbs responded to the urgency of the situation and she managed to sidestep his headlong onslaught.

Mungo plunged willy-nilly past her. And as he did so, she raised her stout yew wood walking stick in a firm two handed grip and smacked him soundly on the backs of his knees. He stumbled with a loud oomph and went skidding a short distance on his belly.

He tried to scramble up to his feet, but Granny hobbled up to him at a rather remarkable pace for one her age and gave him a sharp thump between his shoulder blades. She stood over him, glaring as he sneaked a look up at her.

‘Wished I’d a’caught you in my henhouse, you scalliwag, that time my prize hen went missing! I know it was you, Mungo Brandybuck, so don’t you go looking all guiltless at me. And I’m betting that it was you, too, as stole those combs of honey from my bee shed.’ She shook her stick at him for emphasis.

Several of the nearby lads ran up to secure Mungo - and just in time to his calculations as it looked as if she meant to whack him once more for good measure.

‘You just march him over to the Shiriff and that ranger,’ she instructed them. ‘Wouldn’t be one whit surprised if he didn’t have a hand somehow in Miz Cela’s going missing!’

‘My stars!’ she said as they marched Mungo off. The surge of action and excitement hit her all of a sudden and she felt a bit weak in the knees. She made her way to a nearby table and sat down on one of the chairs. ‘Land’s sake! That was a bit of a hullaballoo now wasn’t it?!’ She held her right hand to her chest, catching her breath.

‘Thirsty work,’ she went on, nodding her head to a Hobbit standing next to her. ‘Fetch old Gran a half pint, won’t you dear? A little something to steady the nerves.’

Her investigation of what Rowan and Prim were doing, and just exactly where they’d gone off to could wait, she decided . . . until she’d caught her breath fully and fortified herself with a bit of ale.