The Golden Perch Inn

[Undómë]

Rowan had laughed at Will’s predicament and found Cook’s solution amusing, too. Especially since it had caused the poor fellow to light up like a glowbug. Luckily her own mother had her younger sister and brother to see to and keep a firm hand on. And so, had left Rowan to run her own life. At least for now. In three years she would come of age, just as Will would be doing next year. And she was sure her mother’s thoughts would then be bent on her. The lady loved babies! There was no getting round that fact. And in lieu of having any more of her own, she was quite happy to settle for grandbabies.

Well, why worry about such things when they haven’t come knocking at your door yet, Rowan! she told herself

She finished the rest of her eggs, then chewed thoughtfully on the last strip of bacon. A final swallow of tea and she was up, scraping her plate into the bucket before piling it in the sink with some of the other dishes. She thought she could hear the sound of the door to the rooms’ hallway opening and closing as the guests made their way into the common room for breakfast.

‘Best load up some platters of bacon and eggs, Prim,’ she called to Primrose, as she got down one of the big serving trays. She took several baskets of hot biscuits, too. Saying she would be back shortly for the teapots. Plates, cups, and utensils and pots of honey, jam, and butter had already gone out to the tables earlier that morning.

She was thinking about Cook’s suggestion; wondering if it were even possible to pull off such a thing. It might be quite fun actually, she thought. Though, she considered, too, how angry his mother might be if she found out the truth. And sad, too, that her son would play such a prank on her.

Hmmm . . . I guess I could do it if Will’s alright with it. She was a bit unclear that he actually approved of Cook’s plan. Perhaps Cook would talk more with him and get it all settled. It was a subject she thought she ought not to approach with him on her own. It felt a little too slippy-slidey.

She hoisted the serving tray up on her shoulder supporting it with her hand beneath it. It was a source of pride to her that she’d become quite the expert at balancing such loads these last two years.

Rowan nodded to Primrose as she turned to go out to the common room. On an impulse, she gave the woman and impish grin and gave her a challenging look.

‘Fight you for him! Tooth and nail!’ She winked at her friend. ‘And may the best flower from the garden win!' Rowan laughed merrily as she sailed out into crowd of hungry guests.

Might as well start practicing! I’m sure Cook’ll convince him how good her plan is.

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan waited patiently until the server passed nearer to him. He smiled a little watching her work her way about the room. All smiles and deft hands as she placed the platters of food before the hungry guests.

He glanced toward the man at the counter. One of the other servers from the inn had spoken briefly with him. Tolman . . . the encounter seemed innocent enough. Still he would see what business the lad had with the raggedy man.

‘Little mistress!’ he called gently as Rowan drew near. He raised his hand to her as she turned toward him. ‘Something to break my fast and a mug of strong tea, if you please.’

[Undómë]

'Eggs it is, today, Master Hithadan. And bacon. though I think Cook could be persuaded to cook a bit of ham for you. And Primrose's lovely biscuits with the last of summer's jam.' She put a generous plate of food before him.

Rowan furrowed her brow as she gave him a mug. 'Now you're sure it's tea today and not some ale or wine?' She waited for him to consider the offer. Well, then tea it will be,' she grinned. She made her way back to the kitchen for a pot of steaming tea.

'And here's a pot of honey to sweeten it,' she said, putting the pot on his table. 'From Granny Greenhill's bees. Clover and apple tree flowers she said. Very tasty. I can vouch for it!'

Her serving tray was empty and she rested it on the ground, leaning it in against her leg. 'And what brings you to Stock these days,' she asked, topping off his mug with a bit more tea. 'Haven't seen you in quite a while. What brings you round this time, if you don't mind my asking?'

It was a question she always asked of him, hoping that one day he might actually satisfy her curiosity.

[Lilly]

Marigold’s brown ears twitched at the words from her owner. Her nose twitched, too, smelling the enticing scent of fresh hay and oats borne on the early morning breezes. Behind her, she could hear the goats making excited little noises. Marigold snorted. They wanted her to hurry up, get the cart closer to the source of the good smells. Well, why don’t they just come up and pull this thing along for a while she humphed to herself. The sturdy little pony put her strength into the pulling of the cart and hurried the family and the hanger-on goats along at a faster clip.

‘Whoa up there, Mari!’ called Madoc, bringing his cart to a halt in front of the stable. He stepped down, helping Lila and the children from the cart. Arrangements were made with the stableman for the care of Marigold and the two nannies to the satisfaction of Madoc. Then he bid the man good day and took his family into the inn.

‘Just find us . . .’ Madoc began, holding the door open as his wife and brood passed through.

‘. . . a good table. Yes, my dear! And you see to something hot to drink if you will.’ Lila smiled at him, nodding as he entered. She saw his brow raise in question. ‘Yes, get yourself an ale. But tea, please, for me, and for the little ones.’

Young Taffy rolled his eyes at “the little ones” from his mother. He dearly loved his little sister Seren, but geeze! He was after all eleven and she just five. She really was the ‘little one’.

He’d had enough of sitting, in the cart. So he stood for a while by the chair his mother had appointed him. His eyes roamed around the room taking it all in. There were two of the Big Folk in the common room. Both dressed a little raggedy by his determination. He wondered if either lived out in the wild. Big Folk were not all that common where he lived, and there were many stories he and his mates told each other of the great, tall men who lived rough and lived dangerously. He shivered a little, his eyes darting away from the both of them.

Hmmmm! Over there by the bar sat a very old gaffer. And he seemed to be playing with some little carved figures on a board on the tabletop. Taffy played checkers with his own Granpa at home and enjoyed it very much. He sidled up quietly by the gaffer to see what sort of game he was playing. It looked like a checkerboard from what he could see.

‘Is that a new kind of checkers, sir?’ he asked without thinking. He came to the edge of the table. ‘Oh, look! You’ve put your players on the red and the black squares! Is this how they play it in Stock?’

[Envinyatar]

‘Why the pleasure of seeing your dimpled cheeks when you smile, Mistress Rowan! That's what always brings me round to the Perch!’ Hithadan grinned back at her as he piled some jam on the biscuit in his hand. He took a bite from the light, flaky biscuit and held it up as if in adulation, nodding his head to her.

‘Be sure to give Mistress Brandybuck my compliments! I believe she . . . or was it Mistress Primrose, this time? . . . anyway, one of them has outdone themselves . . . again! Why even the waybread of the Fair Folk could not outshine this, surely.’

He picked up his fork and tucked into his eggs as if he hadn't had a good meal in days or weeks . . .

[Folwren]

Dick did not know quite what to say to the stranger as he extended the coin towards him again. Hunger could easily be seen from Jack's face, but he would rather go with the ale. Why not throw in some food with that? The poor chap could offer no more than he had. And yet what an awkward business! Dick knew how the Big People disliked pity and charity, though he would hardly call it that, and many a hobbit wouldn’t complain to being treated to breakfast. But then He noticed Tollman approaching the customer and before he had formed a proper reply, the young hobbit took him out of his predicament, and attracted the man’s attention.

"Once you finish your dealings with Master Boffin," he said, "you are welcome to come join me at the table. I've a large plate of biscuits and, if you can give me some news of the outside world, you're welcome to share my food."

A sudden smile swept over Dick's face. That's the spirit. He'd thank Tollers later and make sure he got some sort of second breakfast for that. He grinned up at Jack and his head bobbed up and down as he took the coin.

"Aye, the lad'll look after you. I'll get the ale right away, and then you go on and sit with him. He'll get you your breakfast." Dick gave Jack no time to protest (if he wanted to) before he turned and took one of the mugs to draw the ale. He winked at Tollers as he passed, a heaping plateful of food in his hand. With an afterthought, he half turned, the brimming mug of ale in his left hand and snatched at Tollers just before he stepped out of reach. He bent towards him and close to his ear whispered –

“You let him eat whatever he needs, now. Don’t hesitate to go back for seconds. If Cela puts up a fight, tell her they’re my orders. Take this." And he put the mug in the young hobbit's hand and sent him off.

[Envinyatar]

Jack ventured a smile at the Halfling as he sat down at the table. It was not an expression he practiced often, and so it may have appeared rather frightening . . . a rictus of the mouth, a gaping sort of grin, that may well have been seen as a grimace from another angle. It was a fleeting attempt which soon disappeared behind the rim of his ale mug.

‘Well, I do thank you for that!’ he said in a grateful sounding voice. ‘I swear I have had nothing to drink but what brackish water I could find along my way.’ He took another great gulp and set down the mug with a satisfied thump on the wooden table top.

The ale rumbled about in his empty belly . . . loud grumblings, in which his innards protested the lack of sustenance. ‘Guess I am a bit hungry at that! My old belly’s knocking against my backbone!’ he remarked, reaching for one of the biscuits on the platter. He piled the halves of it with jam and popped them in his mouth, one after the other. Another biscuit found its way into his hand and this one he clapped about a nice fat piece of ham.

Halfway through this makeshift sandwich he eyed his Hobbit companion. ‘Don’t let me eat your whole plateful. Dig in!’ He chewed thoughtfully on the rest of the ham biscuit. ‘Good food, here at the Perch. You always get fed like this?’ He pushed the plate a little closer to his companion.

‘Name’s Jack, by the way. Jack Greymoss. Used to live in Breeland, over across the river and such. Been traveling lately, though.’ He thought he’d best leave out the details so as not to scare his table mate off. ‘Working odd jobs and such for a place to sleep and hot meal.’

‘Wotcher name? I don’t think I caught it.’