The Golden Perch Inn

[Arry]

Will sat at the kitchen table a large mug of steaming tea clasped in his hands. He was hungry and was looking forward to a large platter of eggs and bacon and toast with jam to fill in the corners, before he started the rest of his day’s work.

He’d been up since before first light, seeing to the ponies and horses that were stabled in the barn. Stalls had been mucked out, fresh hay gotten for the feeders, fresh buckets of water, and new bedding for the floor. Each horse had a nosebag of oats to start the day, as well as the hay in the feeders. All had been given a quick brushing before being turned out into the fenced exercise yard; the ones staying over again would be gone over more thoroughly with comb, brush, and hoof pick before being settled in for the night.

‘Good morning!’ Master Boffin’s voice boomed out merrily above the crackle of the frying bacon. ‘What’s for breakfast?’

Will grinned at him, offering him a mug of tea from the pot at the table. ‘Bacon, of course . . . nice and crispy, Master Boffin.’ Will nodded at Primrose as he spoke. ‘Bacon as only the gifted mistresses of the Perch’s kitchen can make it. Bacon fried so deftly the very thought of it brings a song of praise to my lips.’ He winked good-naturedly at Cook and gave her an ingratiating smile.

‘Oh and let there be eggs, too, please, m’ladies! Mounds of fluffy eggs scrambled gently.’ He nodded to the hay filled basket that sat on the end of the counter. ‘Hens were in a happy mood this morning. Only the little buff was real broody. Tried like the dickens to keep me away from her little clutch.’ He held up his right hand, showing off the little strips of linen he’d tied about two of his fingers where she’d pecked him. ‘I left her one . . . she seemed to settle down with that. Though, I must say she kept a baleful watch on me as I moved about the henhouse.’

‘Would you like me to cut the bread?’ he asked hopefully, pushing his now empty mug away from him. ‘I can get the toasting forks going if you’d like, too, ladies . . .’

[Undómë]

Rowan hurried on her way once she’d said her good-morning to Master Boffin. It was his first day as Innkeeper for the Perch and she had decided she would put her very best foot forward in order to give his patrons a very good impression of his inn.

Not that Master Goodbody had been a sluggard as the Innkeeper. Nay, he was always quite on top of things, and a fair employer, too. And wasn’t his daughter, Lily, a sweet woman! But, well . . . truth be told Rowan felt more comfortable around Master Boffin than she did the older fellow. And he had such a merry face, Master Boffin did. Who couldn’t help but like him?!

She went to the linen cupboard and got out a stack of towels to put in her basket, along with a number of neatly folded face cloths. Rowan relished the smell as she open the latticed doors. Lavender! A fresh, clean fragrance from the flowers sprinkled between the folded sheets and blankets. She recalled helping to harvest the spikes of violet-blue flowers last summer and tying them in bunches to dry from the barn rafters. They still held their pleasing subtle scent. She reached under a folded sheet for one of the smaller stalks and wove it securely into the lacings of her bodice.

Picking up her basket she went on down the hall, knocking at each of the occupied rooms. ‘Your towel, sir. A fresh towel, ma’am. Good morning! Good morning! Did the lad bring you warm water to wash up? Good, good! See you at breakfast, then.’ She gave as pleasant a smile as she could to each of the roomers without being too overwhelmingly cheerful. Some of them, she knew from previous days’ experience with them were simply not early morning risers.

Once done, she put away her basket and headed toward the kitchen. Her early morning duties were done. Soon the serving of breakfast would begin in the common room. Her tummy rumbled, protesting its empty state; the enticing aroma of bacon frying made her mouth water.

Rowan picked up her pace, hoping to get a few mouthfuls of breakfast into herself before the hungry patrons demanded their platters and mugs and pots of tea and such . . .

[Firefoot]

Cela let Will answer the question as she lightly added salt to the first batch of eggs. Sometimes she wondered if he didn’t know as much about what was going on in the kitchen as she did.

“Would you like me to cut the bread?” Will now asked. “I can get the toasting forks going if you’d like, too, ladies . . .”

“No need, no need,” said Cela without looking up. “It’s biscuits and jam this morning – Primrose how are those coming?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “Good thing summer’s coming up quickly, not that you’d know it by the chill in the air. The stock of jam is starting to run low, and there’s nothing like a fresh pie. Fruit that’s preserved and canned or dried just doesn’t have the same taste to it as fresh fruit.”

“I’m sure the jam won’t run out,” said Dick with a smile.

“’Course it won’t. What kind of cook would I be if I let the jam run out?” Cela cast a critical eye at the eggs. “But that’s neither here nor there.” She selected a skinny jar containing an unlabelled chopped herb and sprinkled it lightly over the top of the eggs. “Excellent. And don’t neither of you ask what’s on them, either, because you know I won’t tell you.” She waved a wooden spoon in their general direction. “You’re right cheery this morning,” she commented to Dick, trying to remember if the day had some special significance as she checked on the bacon. “Ah, of course… the inn’s officially yours today, isn’t it?” She said, nodding to herself, though whether about her statement or the bacon was indeterminate. “Why don’t we get you two a bite to eat… looks about done…”

[Folwren]

Dick joined Will at the breakfast table and tucked a napkin into his collar. “Aye, today’s my first day, Cela,” he said. He grinned up at her as she placed a plate full of food before him. “I hope I’m ready for it.”

“Of course you are,” Cela replied confidently. She placed another full plate before Will. “Master Goodbody wouldn’t have let you have it if you weren’t ready for it.”

Dick shrugged slightly before setting into the bacon and eggs. “One would think so,” he said, after giving a moment to chew and swallow. “I have all the hopes of succeeding.” His stomach gave a slight flutter, though he couldn’t exactly say why. He attributed it to the empty state his stomach was in and continued to eat without saying anything further.

He and Will were half way through with their first serving of breakfast when Rowan came tripping into the kitchen, a smile on her face, and a healthy glow in her cheek. Dick looked up as she gave a bright and cheery good morning to everybody.

“How are all the guests this morning?” Dick asked. “Are any of them up yet?” Rowan flashed him a quick smile as she accepted a plate from Cela and turned to join the two hobbits at the table before answering.

[Envinyatar]

Jack eyed the sign as it swung in the morning breeze. ‘Golden Perch, then is it?’ he murmured to himself, shifting his gaze here and there about the Inn yard for any ‘opportunities’. He leaned on his walking stick, footsore from the long miles he’d traveled in the past few days. Bit of a misunderstanding in some no-name little watering hole down south a ways, where the Brandywine turned east from the Bounds.

Dumb-as-dirt farmer gave him the what-for for ‘borrowing’ a few eggs and loaf of bread cooling on the windowsill of the farmhouse. Brandished his nasty pitchfork at him, then set the dogs after him. Jack grinned as he thought about the lumps he’d laid on those hounds heads when they’d caught up to him.

His belly rumbled, empty as the purse that hung at his belt. No . . . wait a moment there, Jack-boy!. He reached into an inner pocket of the greasy leather vest he’d appropriated from some fool drunk in Bree a number of months ago and found two small coins he’d kept for dire need. And surely this was dire need . . . Be just enough, he hoped, for a pint of ale and the right to sit at ease in the Perch, looking the place over.

Jack stood in the shadows of the entryway letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light within. He slid right, to counter that marked where the drinks were to be got. He tapped a coin on the wooden surface of the bar and called out in a loud voice.

‘How bout it? Can a man get a pint here?’

His gaze slid around the room, noting where things were placed and who occupied tables. Oh, aye! There’s some as look promising . . . yes, indeed!

[Undómë]

Rowan tucked into her eggs and bacon; washing her rather large forkfuls down with gulps of sweet, hot tea. ‘Sorry!’ she mumbled round a mouthful of biscuit with gooseberry jam on it. She swallowed another gulp of tea and wiped the crumbs from her mouth.

‘Don’t mean to be such a little piggy, but the guests are up, the lot of them. And I’m sure they’ll soon be washed and dressed and out into the common room expecting food soon . . . very soon! I’m just trying to take the edge of my own hunger before I have to put on a smile and take out the platters Cook and Mistress Primrose are cooking up.’ She turned a little red, rethinking her choice of words. ‘Not that I mind smiling and serving the food. Oh no, not at all! Truth be told I rather like seeing their faces light up at the first whiff and site of the Perch’s tasty fare. It’s just that it rather gets in the way of your being friendly when your belly is making loud protests!’

The sound of some loud voice calling from the common room penetrated the noise and talk of the kitchen. ‘Shall I go see to that?’ she asked, her eyes lingering longingly on the rest of her meal.