The Golden Perch Inn

[Undómë]

‘I’ll take the towels and get him to the bath room,’ whispered Rowan, motioning for Meliot to follow after her. ‘I know where everything is kept, so I’ll look official and all that.’ She led her companion to the part of the Inn where the Big Folks had their rooms.

‘See that broom there’ she said, pointing to one leaning in the corner of the hall with a dust pan at its feet. ‘You just grab that and look like your doing some sweeping up while I knock on his door.’

Rowan opened the door to the linen closet and fetched out a stack of fluffy towels, a couple of washcloths, and a thin woven blanket. From a basket on the shelf across from the linens she took a fat, fresh bar of oat-soap. And one with a pleasant smell of mint. She was going to grab a plain scented bar, him being a man and all, but she thought he might still smell even if he scrubbed himself clean, and the mint would help overcome it.

‘Now you just sweep and look busy while I pry him from his room. I’ll give you the sign when he’s got into his bath, and you slip into his room real quick. I’ll watch out for his return and give you the high sign.’

Rowan frowned as she looked toward Meliot. ‘Got any ideas what a good signal would be?’

[Dimturiel]

Meliot thought hard. "How about singing a few verses from some song?" she said at length. "Everyone sings arround here when they feel like it, so no one will suspect anything."

She gave the door one last look and then said, taking the broom : "Well, good luck, for both of us."

She watched as Rowan knocked on the door. When it opened, she pretended to be busy sweeping. She hoped that she looked profesional enough, or, at any rate, that her excitement could not be easely seen. She even began humming to herself, in an effort to look believable.

"Please, let him go." she was saying to herself. "Please let him go, and I swear that this will be the last time I do something like this... Or, almost the last", she added hastily, not wanting to make a vow that would rob her of so much amusement.

[Tevildo]

Tollers gave a sigh of relief and, taking out his handkerchief, wiped the perspiration from his brow. Although he was not too keen on being drafted for kitchen duty, it was certainly a better fate than some other punishments the Innkeeper might have imposed. Master Dick had actually been fair. Even Tollers had to admit that falling asleep on the job was probably not the best way to win the approval of the higher-ups.

The hobbit's only real regret was there was no way he could slip off to go fishing in the early afternoon. Perhaps Jack would wait till later in the day. If so, Tollers promised to work very hard to move the furniture and finish all the jobs that Cook would dole out to him. His first project, though, was to get the furniture moved into the Perch.

Taking a peek in the storage room, he could see that several of the pieces were quite large. There was no possible way he could move all this furniture on his own, even if he worked till midnight. Now what has Master Dick said when he left? Tollers scratched his head and sat down for a minute to try and remember. Then it hit him: he was to go to Will and see if he was available to help move the furniture.

Tollers ran around to the backside of the Inn where he could see Will standing and working diligently on the roof. He cupped his hands to his mouth and hallooed up to him. "Master Will, it's me....Tollers. Master Dick wondered if you'd be available to help me move some heavy furniture inside the Perch. Or, if you're not, perhaps you know someone else who could help."

[Envinyatar]

Knock….knock….knock!

Jack started at the series of firm raps. ‘Now who can that be?’ he muttered to himself. A few short steps and he reached the door. His hand hesitated, and he leaned near the door, trying to hear through it. No use, the wood was too thick.

He turned the handle and drew open the door a crack. One of the Hobbit lasses, One who worked here by the look of it. She had a pile of towels in her arms and an expectant smile.

He opened the door just a bit wider. ‘Wotcher want, missy?’ he asked, giving her a considering look.

[Arry]

‘Ah, Tollers!’ Will called down. ‘I really need to get this patch put on the roof. I’ve still got some of the old shingles to pry off and the hot pitch to swab on.’ He swiped the back of his arm across his forehead. The day was getting on, and between the work he was doing and the sun, he had worked up a good sweat.

‘How’s about you ask Gable? She’s got a strong back . . .’ He thought for a moment. ‘I think she’s in the stable. Was out exercising one of the guests’ horses and just brought it in. Tell her she can just put the ponies out in the exercise pen and let them run about while she gives you a hand.’

Will turned back to finish what he was doing, then turned back to look down at Tollers. ‘Ummm . . . that is – you don’t mind having Gable give you a hand, do you? Her being an Elf and a female. She really is quite capable.’

[Undómë]

Rowan felt a cold little shiver move up her spine. He was even rougher looking close up. She took a few steps back, nearly tripping herself on Meliot’s broom.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ she began. ‘But Master Boffin sent me to bring you some nice fresh towels and soap.’ She took a step forward and smiled as prettily as she could. ‘For the bath, that is. Just down the hall here,’ she went on, pointing toward the end of the corridor. ‘He thought you might like one.’ She handed him the towels, balancing the soap on top.

‘And if you’ll just leave your clothes outside the door there, we’ll get them washed for you. It’s wash day here at the Perch.’ She took a few steps in the directions of the bath room, hoping he would follow. ‘And we’ve got a shirt, I’m sure, and some clean trousers you can wear while yours get dry.’ She motioned for him to follow. ‘So just come along and we’ll get the high backed tub filled.’ Rowan stopped for moment and looked him up and down.

‘Do you . . . well, want some bath salts in the water, too?’

[Envinyatar]

‘Bath salts?’ Jack stepped out of his room, a look of curiosity mixed with hesitation. The stack of folded towels unbalanced as he shut the door behind him. And the bar of soap went skittering along the wooden floor. He looked after it but made no effort to go after it.

He glanced for a moment at another Inn worker who was sweeping the floor nearby. She looked harmless enough as did the other one who’d come to his door. Jack was a cautious, no make that, suspicious sort. But these two rang no alarm bells as he studied them.

‘Well, alright then, I guess I do with a bath. Been on the road for a long spell.’ He let the lass who’d brought the towels fetch the truant soap and then motioned for her to lead on.

She filled the tub with hot steaming water and left him a nice large bucket full of clean water to rinse off with. Once she’d left, he doffed his clothes and reaching an arm through the barely opened door, dropped them in a wad on the floor out side the room. Jack locked the door, then perused the bottles of bath salts on the shelf near the tub. He pulled off the cork to each one in succession, giving each a good sniff. Some smelled like flowers, some like herbs.

‘I’ll just try a little of each,’ he said, humming some old tune he’d heard once, slightly off-key. Jack sprinkled a fair handful of each of the containers into the hot water, then climbed into the tub and eased himself down.

It was . . . wonderful! He wriggled his toes in the silky water and leaned back against the backrest of the tub. ‘Oh, I could get used to this!’ he thought to himself. He slid down, dunking his head beneath the water, then resurfaced - grinning . . .