The Golden Perch Inn

[Forest Elf]

"You know how I like adventures and such, and I was off to find one of my oun. I was walking down the road and saw her, she was being attacked by wolf, I killed the wolf and brought her back here. . .I just wish I could've found her owner." Gable said softly, stroking the pony's muzzle.

"She still had her saddle on, but I had to take that off, it was too torn to keep and there was some of a cape stuck to the saddle. . ." Gable said, a look of sadness swept over her face for a second.

Gable watched Will finish checking the pony's injured leg, while stroking the side of the pony's neck.

[Envinyatar]

Easy now Jack, m’boy . . . don’t push!

He could almost see the calculations running through the Halfling’s mind . . . the scale tipping toward one side and then the other. Duty versus Pleasure. And then he could see that Tollers had found the balance he needed to come to a decision . . . to make a plan.

‘Well, now, I think I can work with that if you can . . . Tollers. Be fine to fish the afternoon.’ He eyed the Halfling to see if his use of his familiar name had been acceptable.

‘Speaking of that free bed and such . . .’ Jack yawned and stretched a bit. ‘I been sleepin’ rough lately and I’ve got to say now as I’m all relaxed with food in my belly and a mug of this fine ale . . . I am bone-tired.’ He looked out the window, at the ponies and carts that made there way down the road. ‘Yessir, it’s been shank’s mare for me these past few weeks.’ He took a quick sip of ale and stretched his long legs out beneath the table. ‘You wouldn’t know where I might catch a bit of a kip, would you? Just so’s I’d be nice and rested and ready to catch a few fat trout with you . . .’

[Arry]

Will’s attention was focused on the immediacy of the animal’s wounds. He nodded his head, smiling tightly, as he finished his exam of the leg. There were no broken bones. And the wounds though long and ragged edged did not cut deep into the muscles or tendons.

‘Bring my wooden chest over here, won’t you Gable? It’s there on the shelf just above the workbench.’ Will held the pony’s lead while the Elf fetched the box. ‘I think just some of this soothing ointment and a nice pad of moss against these wounds on the leg will be enough for now.’ He worked quickly, letting Gable talk soothingly to the pony.

‘Now you said something about a saddle? All torn up?’ Will glanced at Gable as he asked the question. He’d finished bandaging the leg and was now cleaning the gashes in the pony’s flank. ‘And a piece of cape?’ he went on, his head shaking at the greater depth of one of the gashes. ‘I think I’ll need to put in a few stitches to this one before we bandage it.’ ‘Hmmm . . . I wonder how bad the rider must look if his fleet footed pony suffered these sort of injuries.’

‘Here, help me spread this sticky goo on the wounds. Old Granny Bracken made it up for me. She swears the herbs and such in it will keep all sorts of ailments for bothering raw cuts like these.’ They worked in companionable silence for a while. ‘Go ahead then, Gable, and find her a nice, clean stall. Make sure she’s got water and hay to munch on and a nice thick layer of straw if she wants to lie down.’ He started to put his medicines and bandages away in the chest and clean up the mess. ‘Don’t know if she’ll let you, but she might feel more relaxed if she’ll let you brush her a bit and get the tangles and burrs out of her coat.’

[Forest Elf]

Gable led the pony into a stall, making sure that there was plenty of hay and water for the pony. Gable walked out of the stall and grabbed a brush, walked back in, and started to brush the pony, on her uninjured side, starting on the pony's mane. She brushed out the tangles and worked on getting some burrs, careful to be gentle with the pony, to help calm her down.

Once she finished on the pony's mane, she started brushing the pony's neck, and worked her way down to the flank, until she finished that side of the pony. Gable started on the other side, being careful to aviod the slashes on her flank as possible, and worked her way around them, until she finished that side.

"Will, would you mind if I went in and cleaned up a bit? Incase someone would come in and see me, so that I wouldn't frighten them away." Gable asked, while walking out of the stall, and she closed the door behind her, letting the pony rest.

[piosenniel]

‘Turn in here!’ Tanwen said, gesturing to the wide dirt track that led from the Causeway to the inn. ‘I’m sure it’s The Golden Perch. It must be.’ She leaned further forward on her seat, looking out past her brother. ‘I’m sure that’s Stock Road; that bigger one that ties into the one we’re on.’ She squinted her eyes at the sign she saw hanging from the post nearer the building. ‘Looks like a fish! I think we’ve found it.’

They’d been traveling about in the southern part of the Shire these past several weeks. Talking to farmers about their crops, pipeweed in particular – it being a very desirable commodity. But herbs, too, were on their list of things to be on the lookout for, as well as honey and good Shire oats and wool. Their last stop had been at Bamfurlong Farm in the Marish. A stop at a small public house just north of Deephallow had piqued their interest in the tangy pickled mushrooms that had been served with the pan-fried coney. ‘Come from Bamfurlong, just up north a ways, the Maggot farm, been in the same family for years. Mushrooms a plenty grow on their land.’ Rhys and Tanni had arranged for several straw-filled baskets packed with small crocks of the condiment be sent down to the Ford.

Rhys clucked his tongue at Nia and Olwen, urging the mares off the dirt track and toward the stable. ‘Anyone here?’’ he called out, drawing up in front of the open doorway. He set the brake on the cart and got down to find the stableman.

[Celuien]

Primrose turned her attention to the biscuits, silent and thoughtful, her ears still aflame. Cela didn't think her new found interest in Will was silly. Primrose only wished she could feel the same way. True, she could have cast her attention in a worse direction than the congenial, hard-working Will. But she wasn't sure that she had any business casting her attention in any direction, especially towards someone who was clearly trying his best to avoid any attention of the kind. Had he wanted such attentions, he wouldn't have needed to invent names to send his relatives.

She tried to sort through her confused emotions. Silly. She was silly to permit herself to be so flustered by a joke. And she was silly to allow the embarrassment to continue with Cela's plan, which was really just a bit of fun. But even more importantly, if she told herself that she was silly, Primrose couldn't be disappointed that Will was, in fact, only joking. And so she decided to cling to the word for the time, despite Cela's words to the contrary. If it happened that she didn't need to remind herself of having a foolish fancy, she could drop that defense later.

But the little game would present a problem. If she played along, Primrose would be in constant danger of betraying herself to Will. Yet maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have the excuse of the game after all. It was possible that she would unintentionally let something slip. A slip during the impersonation was forgivable and even expected as a ploy for her part in the deception. Her main difficulty would lie in not becoming frustrated that it was all a game and not permitting the play acting to work her emotions into something more than they were. She wasn't sure what those feelings were, having arisen so unexpectedly, and did not want them to become more confused than they already were.

Cela was hurrying the bacon to a plate. Primrose began cutting her dough into biscuit shape and preparing another batch for the oven. As she slid the pan into the heat, she turned to Cela again and sighed.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not silly. I don't know anything. But enough of this for the present. Someone will hear, and I'm not wanting Will to take notice of anything just now."

As if in justification of Primrose's fear of eavesdroppers, Dick reappeared at the door to call for tea. She started the tea and, drawing close to Cela's ear, whispered, "Do you think he knows? He heard some of what we were saying before."

[Arry]

Will nodded at Gable, looking up at her hair in disarray and the blood from the pony’s wounds drying on her. ‘Yes, yes,’ he encouraged her. ‘Yes, go on ahead and get yourself cleaned up a bit. We won’t really need to be doing anything until late afternoon. Then you can help me bring the ponies and horses in from the exercise yard and get them brushed and fed. We can check on that new pony’s wounds, too, and see how . . .’

He was cut off mid-sentence as a voice from the stable door called for service. ‘Go on now, Gable, I’ll see to what the man wants. You go on and wash up.’

Will plunged his hands into a clean bucket of water and washed them up as quickly as he could. He was just drying them on a towel as he reached the door to the stable. One of the Big Folk stood there and just beyond him stood two lovely greys still hitched to their cart.

‘Name’s Will. Will Hayward,’ he said, nodding at the man, a welcoming smile on his face. ‘How can I help you?’