The Golden Perch Inn

[SmallOne]

Amadi ambled down a quiet back street of Stock, whistling a nameless tune as his bare feet kicked up the dust of the road. He was almost out of the Shire now, and very sorry to be leaving it so soon--this little detour was his last hurrah before finding the bridge over the Brandywine and into the great unknown of the Northern world. He'd enjoyed this odd, quiet little country with its equally odd little residents. It was all dusty roads and soft rolling hills with their cozy underground cottages. The local folk were pleasant and unhurried, polite even to one of the "Big Folk", as they called him, odd as he was. The very air gave him a sense of profound peace, as if he could go to sleep any moment and not worry for tomorrow, never mind he'd spent his last copper that morning.

He broke off whistling and ran a callused hand through his dark cropped hair, gazing up at the unbroken blue sky. It wasn't a real problem, not yet, anyway. He was a decent hunter and a better forager, so as long as there were woodlands, he wouldn't starve. But sooner or later he would need boots--even his deck-hardened feet couldn't take the rocks of the mountain passes--and warmer clothes. What he needed was a job. But the chances of finding something temporary in such a small town were slim.

He shrugged, and started whistling again. It would work itself out somehow; it always did. At the moment he was more interested in the "finest beer in Eastfarthing", which he was determined to sample, by any means possible. He amused himself for a few minutes thinking of ways to sneak into a hobbit cellar--it was hard in this country for one of his stature to sneak anywhere, and the mild-mannered hobbits were surprisingly protective of their foodstuffs. Take that fellow back in Bywater. No sense of humor whatsoever, that one.

Amadi stopped as he saw the inn. To his surprise, it looked to be a fair-sized establishment, complete with a stable and vegetable garden. A large part of the building stood outside of the hill, and judging from the round windows peeping out of the verge, there was even more space inside. He grinned, hopes rising. If it was this big of a place, perhaps they would need some help, after all.

Amadi bypassed the front door altogether and stepped neatly over the garden's fence, careful not to crush the herbs and vegetables growing there. He stuck his head in the half-open kitchen door, rapping on the door frame and putting on his most winning smile.

"Hello! Could anyone here use a cook?"

[Folwren]

Dick was helping Rowan and Prim get a lunch together that would not permanantly embarrass the Golden Perch. It took a little while, for none of them were quite as familiar with cooking as Cook herself, but when Cook was not there, their attempts would have to serve.

They were almost finished cooking when Cir entered the kitchen. "Excuse me," she said, before Dick interrupted her.

"The food will be ready in just a minute. I'm sorry it's taken so long."

"No, that's not what-"

"Rowan, turn the steaks over, will you?"

"I was wondering about Cook."

"She's not here, I explained to your aunt."

"I know, I was wanting to see if anyone had looked in Cook's room yet, and if they knew anything?"

"We looked," Rowan said, turning from the sizzling stove top.

Before Dick could express surprise, Cir could ask any questions, or Rowan explain a thing, a stranger appeared in the doorway. The four inhabitants of the kitchen looked up in surprise. The stranger didn't wait for any of them to break the silence.

"Hello! Could anyone use a cook?"

Dick, Rowan, and Prim glanced at each other. Dick stepped forward. "I am Seredic Boffin, I run this place. We...could use a cook...but I don't know anything about you, or if you can even cook half decently!"

[SmallOne]

Whoops, Amadi thought. Mind following mouth, as usual. He smiled apologetically as he stepped into the kitchen, where three hobbits and an elf stood over a nearly-finished meal. The room was large, warm, and clean, with a ceiling that was (thankfully) at a comfortable height overhead. Tantalizing smells rose from the simple yet generous fare already set out on plates on the kitchen table.

"Let me introduce meself, then." He extended his hand for the innkeeper to shake. "Nice to meet you, Master Boffin, ladies," he sketched a half-bow to the others. "Amadi's the name, and I'm just a simple traveler headed for Bree." Amadi had long since given up trying to explain to most hobbits that no, he wasn't looking for "Dull ham broth", and yes, he knew there was a perfectly good Big Folk settlement just across the River.

"I'm more than a half decent cook, if I do say so meself.I've cooked with every meat and vegetable you can imagine, and even some you can't, and never got a complaint that I'd believe." He conveniently avoided mentioning it was mostly in a ship's galley. For some reason any association with the ocean tended to make hobbits nervous, and sailing on it for a living was downright disreputable. "I can manage good old steak and potatoes just fine. I don't want anythin' permanent, just a couple of days, till I can earn me enough for some traveling money--and maybe some of that famous beer I've heard of."

[Folwren]

Rowan and Prim glanced at each other and exchanged hopeful, girlish grins. Dick stared at Amadi with his mouth half open. “A couple days, you say?” Dick finally stammered. Amadi nodded his head. “Nothing permanent? I dare say you cook very well indeed, sir, very well indeed!” A genuine smile broke out across Dick’s face, wiping away the troubled, harried look that had settled itself for so long on the naturally merry face. “Come in, and welcome!

“You find us in something of a pickle today, you see,” he said as Amadi entered. “Finish up those plates there, girls and take them out to the elves, I’ll show Amadi around.” Prim and Rowan turned away, laughing and whispering together while they completed serving up the dishes.

“Our cook’s gone missing,” Dick said, continuing his explanation to the young man. “She’s been gone since this morning, and a great troublesome bother it is, too. No one knows where she’s gone or if she’ll ever come back!” He shook his head. “It doesn’t seem right. Cook’s always kept her nose out of other people’s business, there’s no rightful reason why something should ‘ave happened to her. What I always says is, them as keep out of trouble, stay out of trouble. But it aint so this time.”

A glance showed him that Amadi was not listening to Dick’s rambling. “Ah, forgive me. Here, let me show you the kitchen.”

[SmallOne]

Amadi didn't need to be asked twice. Setting his pack behind the door and draping his leather coat over it, he shut the door behind him. The kitchen boasted a beautiful array of cookware, with wide open spaces and an oven big enough to broil steaks from a mûmak. And it was very well stocked, Amadi thought, mouth watering as he peered into the pantry. The wealth of goods dried and fresh sent his mind racing through all of the recipes that could be made. And if the rest of the Shire was any indication, this was only a small portion of the inn's food store. He brought himself back to Master Boffin's words with an effort.

"There's no rightful reason why something should 'ave happened to her," the inkeeper was saying. "What I always says is, them as keep out of trouble, stay out of trouble. But it ain't so this time."

Amadi shook his head. "If you pardon me sayin' so, everyone's got troubles. For your cook's sake, I hope it's the kind that she's found to remedy, and not one that's found her."

He looked at the many plates on the table. Even with the loss of their cook, they seemed to have managed well on their own. "Nevermind the tour," he said. "I'll find my way round in here fair enough, and you can show me the rest before I start on supper. Let's get these plates out first. I assume since it's all the same thing no one's special ordered, then?"

Amadi picked up three plates, deftly balancing two on one arm, and pushed through the inner door which he guessed would lead him to to the main area of the inn. He was correct, finding himself in a pleasant, open room with a huge hearth and many smaller tables and chairs. The door swinging to behind him got the attention of several guests, who (especially the hobbits) seemed relieved that food was finally on its way. It wasn't terribly crowded, but there were enough guests to give the room a constant murmur of noise.

He moved toward the nearest occupied table--a booth with three elves seated together. The silver-haired one had turned away from the door to say something to the one across from her, but as she turned and Amadi caught sight of her face, he stopped in his tracks.

Amadi muttered some less than savory Haradric under his breath. "That one? Here?" He couldn't believe his horrible luck. One of the other elves had caught sight of him; he couldn't turn to another table without drawing even more attention, and if he backed into the kitchen, what would he tell Master Boffin? He could put his newfound job in jeopardy. But if she recognized him, and was one of the ones who held a grudge, it might be even worse. It was a terrible dilemma.

Maybe she wouldn't recognize him, he tried to calm himself as he slowly resumed his walk to the table. His arm protectors were covered temporarily by the plates in his hands; if he just dropped off the food and nipped right back into that kitchen for a very long tour maybe she wouldn't remember him. Yes, and perhaps while he was at it he could wish himself a pretty little sailing ship with wings and fly all the way to Gondor.

Stars, had he been born under a luckless sky?

[Loslote]

Idhreniel glanced up as a young man walked towards their table. I thought they had only hobbits as staff here, she thought. She was about to shrug the thought off, however, when she saw the man stop, staring as though seeing a vision of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. His eyes darted from Mithalwen down to the plates in his hands and back again. Far tenser than before, the man started walking again.

Idhreniel raised her eyebrow. There was history there, she was sure of it. Her lips tugged upward in a hint of a smile. She was sure this would be a great amusement to liven up an otherwise altogether too serious trip. She covered her smile with a hand as she thought of ways to draw out any possible shred of entertainment. Glancing at the twins, she thought to herself, I'm sure they would help me with this. They look like the sort who would love this kind of thing. I can help with plotting, and they can take care of the actual interactions. The man was far too new for her to talk to, and far to intimidating. Yes, the twins would be a huge help in this plot.

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen turned just inclined to get a glimpse of the young man's face as he turned away. She recognized it immediately as being of the lad who had passed the winter at Mithlond and had left there shortly before her own departure.

Her momentary suprise at seeing him was soon rationalised - few roads led out of Mithlond and the Shire was one of the few populated areas on the way to - well anywhere really. She had a fair guess at why he had feigned not to recognise her for she had no doubt that he had done so - their ways had not crossed much but Mithlond was a small enough place these days. It suggested that suspicions had been correct, that the adan had been a little lightfingered as well as charming; that it wasn't just coincidence that more things than usual had gone missing during his time with them.

Nothing particularly valuable had disappeared and circumstances were usually such that the bereft owner could not be certain that there was no other explanation for the disappearance. She herself had mislaid a pair of leather arm guards. Not precious but new from the leatherworkers. She was sure that she had hung them in her forge but she had done so much clearing out and moving around in preparation for the twin's visit that she couldn't be sure she hadn't just misplaced them. So not something she could make a fuss about but it was a little galling since the Elves had been welcoming to the vagbond and she doubted he would have been denied anything he had truly needed. Maybe it was just the way of a different world - that anything not locked up was up for grabs and few in Mithlond would think of locking their doors against neigbour or guest.

If his behaviour was the mark of a guilty conscience well then maybe he deserved to suffer a little. Her face was as deadpan as when she had chastised her nephew and niece as she spoke:

"Master Amadi! What ill have I done you that you refuse to acknowledge our aquaintanceship?"