The Golden Perch Inn

[Firefoot]

As soon as Dick had mentioned finding something to ease pain, Cela had set about brewing a strong tea that, while not particularly tasty, certainly worked well as a pain reliever. “And ice,” she murmured to herself as she set the tea to boiling. She was just about to head down into the cellar when Gable stepped forward, “Is there anything that I can do to help Will and Primrose?”

Cela momentarily considered sending her down to the cellar to find the ice, then realized that the ceiling would be too low down there for the Elf. It would probably take too long for her to find it, anyhow. And the tea didn’t really need to be watched; it wouldn’t boil for another several minutes. What Primrose and Will would really need was more space – the kitchen was starting to feel downright crowded. An idea struck her. “Actually, yes. Someone needs to go down the road to fetch Doc Puddifoot. Just tell him that Primrose will need her leg splinted, and Will’s arm and head need to be looked at. You know the place?” Gable nodded. “Good. Go there now.” Cela turned to Tollers. “You can go back to whatever it was you were doing. Somebody will let you know if you’re needed.”

With that, she disappeared down into the cellar, going straight to the far wall where a sealed ice box was kept. Keeping it open for as short a time as possible, she took a couple blocks of ice and carried them upstairs in a bucket stationed by the box. There, she wrapped them in a clean rag for Will when he came in. As she worked, she was finally able to ask, “Now, Primrose, what exactly happened out there?”

[Celuien]

Primrose had been sitting by the table and trying very hard not to look at her twisted leg. It hurt terribly, but she was more concerned about Will. Her leg was broken. But Will had hit his head and wasn't quite right yet as far as she could tell as he stumbled unsteadily in the yard. She blamed herself entirely and tried to focus on ways to make her error up to him. The hobbit lass tearfully thought to herself that if Will were hurt badly, she never could do enough to make things right. Fear and worry for him drove the stabbing ache in her leg from her mind, replacing it with a gnawing pain of a different kind centered near a lump in her throat.

The inn staff hurried through the kitchen, seeing what they could do the help the injured pair. Primrose was now numb with worry, no longer crying, failing to notice her friends in her distraction. Cela began to say something that ended in, "What exactly happened out there?" That brought her attention back, along with a rush of tears.

"Oh, Cela! It was all my fault! I'm such a fool."

Cela stared at her, puzzled. "Now, slow down Primrose. One thing at a time before you blame yourself. What happened?"

Primrose brought her eyes to meet Cela's, struggling to calm herself enough to tell the story. "I went out with the basket," she began. "Will was on the roof. I asked if he wanted me to bring the basket up to him, just as a joke. But he said I should take it up and bring him a tarring brush while I was at it. And he wasn't joking." Prim's voice went up a tone as she spoke. "So I went up - or tried. I ought never to have done it. I've never been on a ladder before. And especially not after Will told me there was a loose rung. I put my foot on the loose one and slipped. I fell and the next thing I remember, Will was lying on the ground next to me. He must have heard me fall and tried to come down after me, only the ladder was down too so he didn't make it down." She trembled softly and, ignoring the tears that now fell rapidly down her cheeks, pulled at her hair.

"Cela, how's Will? He didn't look right when they brought me in here. He's hurt worse than me. Everyone ought to be seeing to him, not me."

[Forest Elf]

Gable nodded and went quickly out the door. She grabbed one of the stallions that still needed his exercise for the day and saddled and bridled him, quickly.

She jumped into the saddle in one fluid movement and tapped her heals into his sides. She let him run as fast as he pleased, not letting him outdo himself on the way. Once she was there she jumped down from the horse and strode up to the door. She knocked several times and waited for an answer, but none came.

She walked over to his neighbors and knocked on the door. “Hello?” a young hobbit asked, answering the door. She looked to be about 12 and her curly hair was bouncing in the wind.

“Do you know where Doc Puddifoot is? I need to find him, quickly. Primrose’s leg looks broken and Will’s head and wrist need checked.” Gable told the young hobbit.

“Yes, I do know where he is. He said he’d be off to the market for a bit and he might visit an old friend too while he’s at it,” the young hobbit replied.

“Thank you!” Gable called and ran to the stallion. She jumped up into the saddle and sent him off in the direction towards the market. She did a quick scan and couldn’t find him. She put the stallion in a slight canter and called out, “Doc Puddifoot?”

“I’m over here,” he called from the fruit stand. “What is it?”

“We need you at the Inn. Primrose’s leg needs set and Will’s head and wrist need’s looked at. They fell off of a roof, well, Primrose fell off of the ladder and Will fell off of the roof, but anyways, details later. Get on.” Gable told the Doc.

She put the stallion into a gallop and turned the stallion back to the Inn. Once there, she drew him to a halt and set the hobbit onto the ground, where he scurried inside.

She cooled the stallion down and put him back into his stall. She put away the saddle, bridle, and saddle blanket. Then she hurried into the Inn, to see how everything’s going.

[Arry]

By the time Master Puddifoot arrived the innkeeper had helped Will into the kitchen and to a chair. Will’s head had cleared just a little, save for the pounding headache. He sat forward on the seat, his left arm resting gingerly on the table top. The ice that Cela had placed on each side of his wrist had blocked the pain for the most part; that is, unless he tried to move his hand at all, even as little as wiggling his fingers.

‘My wrist will hold for now,’ Will said as the healer entered the kitchen. He waved Master Puddifoot and the others toward Primrose. ‘She needs to be seen to first.’ He shook his head bringing on a small shower of stars and pain within. ‘It’s my fault she even tried to climb up the blasted ladder. I wasn’t thinking; didn’t stop to think it was her who was calling up to me. You get her fixed up and comfortable…then come see to me…’

Will twisted in his chair and reached across the table with his right arm. He patted Prim softly on the back of her hand and gave her a chagrined smile. 'I'm so sorry this happened to you, Prim. You be a brave lass, now. You'll get all fixed up and be better soon, won't she Master Puddifoot?'

Please! he said to himself. Please, let it be so.

[Firefoot]

“I should say so. Give it time, and the leg ought to be good as new,” Master Puddifoot said, as he finished examining Primrose’s leg. He appeared completely oblivious to the interplay between Primrose and Will, but the same certainly could not be said of Cela. “Nothing more than a bumped head and hurt wrist,” she had assured Primrose. “Dick said he was up and moving. Don’t fret yourself over it, and don’t blame yourself either.” Indeed, it seemed to Cela that a bump on the head seemed to be just the thing Will needed to wake him up a bit as she watched him pat Primrose on the back of her hand and watch the doctor care for her rather anxiously.

Then the tea began to boil, and Cela quickly took it off the fire and poured two steaming cups. “Here, drink these,” she told Prim and Will. “It won’t taste great, but it will ease the pain.” They gratefully accepted the cups as the doctor began to speak again.

“Now,” he told Primrose, “This will probably hurt a bit, but the leg’s got to be straight so I can splint it, otherwise the bone will heal crooked.” Even to Cela, who was only watching, the process of setting the broken bone straight looked exceedingly painful, if mercifully short.

Gable chose that moment to reappear in the kitchen, and Cela gently shooed her out, telling her, “The doctor’s got it all under control now; Will and Primrose will be fine. You can go back to whatever you were doing before, and if we need you for anything, we’ll let you know.”

As the kitchen door swung shut behind Gable, Cela realized with some alarm that she ought to be following her own advice: noon was fast approaching, and lunch wasn’t near ready! She quickly set to her cooking: cheese and fruit and bread to be readied, soup to be made – but all while still keeping half an eye on Primrose and Will.

[Celuien]

If Primrose's leg had painful before, the process of setting the bones back into place was twice as bad. Her jaw clamped down tightly and she stiffened in the few seconds that Master Puddifoot took to put her twisted leg into normal alignment. Just a few seconds, and it was over. He wrapped her leg against straight planks of wood to keep it in place. Already, she was beginning to feel more comfortable.

At any rate, Will seemed better. She managed a soft smile in response to his hand against the back of hers. "I'm fine, Will. Really. It's just my leg, and Doc Puddifoot's taken care of that." The smile faded for a moment. It's my fault she even tried to climb up the blasted ladder. "It's not your fault at all. It's mine. I shouldn't have joked about coming up the ladder. I'd no business to. And now you're hurt." Her voice quivered on the last word. "I'm sorry."

Primrose took another sip of tea, half watching and half trying not to watch Doc Puddifoot winding the splint bandage around her leg. As soon as the last wrap of the bandage tightened above her knee, she asked him, "How's Will's wrist? And he took a nasty bump on the head too."

He bent Will's wrist and fingers, causing the ostler to wince. Primrose couldn't help wincing with him in sympathy. One finger was broken, but the wrist was only badly sprained. Next, Master Puddifoot ran his hand over the growing bump on the side of Will's head. Just a bump. Nothing serious. Primrose sighed in relief as Will's hand was treated in much the same way that her leg had been.

"There you are. That hand ought to be as fine as Prim's leg in no time at all. Just give it a few weeks rest and don't try climbing any more ladders for a while." For Primrose, at least, that last warning was hardly necessary.

Suddenly, as relief spilled over her, Primrose laughed merrily. "A fine pair we make, Master Will, with your hand and my leg. We're practically mirror images."

Cela was already starting the soup. Work. Primrose thought she'd better get back to it now that Will was seen to. "Cela, please hand me those carrots and potatoes. My leg may be broken, but I can still chop vegetables for the soup."

[Lilly]

‘What about you, you have any pets of your own?’

Taffy sighed and skewed his mouth to one side. It was rather a sore point with him, the one about having pets. His sister had her kitten, His older brothers had their dogs. Working dogs, but companions nonetheless, of the animal variety. ‘Well, you know, I had a pet of sorts once, but my mother made me get rid of it.’

He stuffed the carving of the cat deep in his breeches pocket, seeing his sister and the new little friends she’d made looking his way. The three children turned back to whatever they had been doing and Taffy turned his attention back to Griffo.

He leaned his elbows on the table top and rested his chin in his hands. ‘I found a little weasel one time; abandoned in the field where we were running the goats to pasture. It was nice and soft and had a little pink nose. I waited and waited to see if its mama would come back, but she never did.’ He looked up at Griffo for confirmation of his reasoning. ‘I figured it was a orphan, you know.’ He drew his finger through a little puddle of water on the table. ‘Anyways, the little scamp, and that’s what I called him, too, ‘Scamp’, he wasn’t too good at remembering rules. He got into the henhouse and ate the eggs one too many times Mami said. And so she said he had to go. My Da took him out and let him go somewhere far away.’

Taffy sighed again. ‘Now she says we don’t need any more animals cluttering up the house. And it’s just not fair. Seren’s got Marmalade, and my brothers have their dogs.’ He furrowed his little brow and shook his head. ‘I’d really like to have some little pal of my own.’

Before Griffo could comment on the state of the young man’s pet-lessness, Lila Sandybanks called out her son’s name. ‘Taffy!’ She motioned him over. ‘Come help me move the chest and carpet-bags in the room, son. I want to get out our night clothes and the outfits for tomorrow need to be hung up.’

‘Just one second, Mother!’ Taffy ran back to Griffo’s table to say good-bye. ‘At least for now, Master Tunnelly. I have to help my ma do some things.’ He started back toward his mother, waving to Griffo as he did so. ‘Maybe we can play a game after lunch!’ He turned and ran toward his mother. ‘I’m coming!’