The Golden Perch Inn

Izmakiel took a seat at the back of the inn and watched from the shadows. He unclasped his soiled green travelling cloak and laid it beside him upon the table. He brushed the dried dirt off his shirt and leaned back in his seat. He took out his pipe and lit it, puffing on it thoughtfully. Being a dunedain ranger wasn't easy. There was patrolling to be done and quite often he would be called for some task or another by his Lord.


Izmakiel stood up and walked to the counter. The barman smiled and nodded at him.
"Greetings Ranger, how be you on this fine day?"
Izmakiel chuckled softly, such was the nature of his conversations with this man, always light and comical no matter what the situation.
"I am weary after a long week and in need of a mug of your finest mead. Make it snappy."
The barman turned and as he was pouring the drink, Izmakiel took another long probing look around the Inn. All seemed well. The barman placed the mug down and Izmakiel was reaching into his pocket to pay for it when the barman shook his head.
"This one's on me. You do enough for us around here. The least I can do is fetch you a decent drink and a snack. Go sit down and I shall bring it to you."

Izmakiel smiled and turned away from the bar, walked back to his seat and sat there with his eyes closed deep in thought.

[bill_n_sam]

The lack of response following Gable’s announcement of the lost and now found locket was puzzling. Rusty, however, was not one to be discouraged by such a minor setback. After gable handed the trinket over to Dick’s safe keeping, Rusty determined it was time to put his investigative skills to work.

“I think I’ll just have a look around the stables.” He said, with a nod of his head to Dick, who was retreating once more to the kitchen. Taking Dick’s silence for acquiescence, Rusty hooked his thumbs through his braces and ambled across the common room and out into the morning air. Breathing deeply, he sighed contentedly. Nothing like a bit of detective work on top of a good breakfast to set a hobbit up right, he thought happily. Now, let’s a get a look at those wolf tracks, he said to himself, wandering off towards the stable.

[Firefoot]

"Certainly," said Cela, taking the necklace from Dick's outstreched hand. She examined it closer now and observed the same lock that Dick had pointed out. "It's a shame we can't open it - whatever is inside might offer some clue to whose it is." She flipped it over. "There aren't any initials on the back of it, either."

She thought for a moment and then placed it on the high shelf behind the cinnamon. "I'll just set it right up here. It's bound to be valuable to someone, and I'm sure they'll come asking around for it." She shrugged, already having lost most of her interest in the trifle that Gable had found so fascinating.

As she resumed her cooking, she glanced over at Dick and grinned. "I daresay the Inn itself seems determined to put you through some sort of initiation test. You can't but sit down and you're right back on your feet again finding out what else is wrong. We'll be forgetting what business as usual means - except that folk are always hungry enough."

[Folwren]

“Stars above, I’d say you were right about that, Fair Maiden of the Stove,” Dick said with a huge sigh and then a mock bow. Cela forced herself to scowl at him. He became serious and stepped nearer. “I have to say, though, I agree whole heartedly with you. I certainly hope it’s only for a first, initial test o’ me and things will soon become normal again. Otherwise, I’ll have no other alternative than to believe that I brought horrid bad luck to the place!”

And shaking his head with feelings of evil foreboding, Dick went out of the kitchen and into the main room to see if anyone should need any services rendered them. He stopped at the counter and placed both elbows on it to lean over and glance over the gathering there. Many people sat in pairs, talking and chatting merrily over their breakfasts, or cradling some hot steaming cup in their hands. A few sat alone, eating or drinking in silence.

“I say,” Dick muttered to himself as he caught sight of a strange face in the room. “That poor chap doesn’t have either food or drink. He looks worn out, too,” Dick went on in his mind as he stood up and made his way around the bar. “I wonder if he’s come far already today.” He threaded his way through the tables as he thought and approached a tired, travel stained elf. The stranger noted his approach and he straightened himself in his chair as Dick stopped before his table.

“Good morning, sir!” Dick said with a cheerful smile. “Can I help you? Perhaps you’d like some breakfast? Or a mug of ale to waken your spirits? Perhaps some hot tea or coffee?”

[Boromir88]

Edric had been quietly enjoying his morning cup of coffee when the lady, Gable, announced she had found a locket and for the owner to come and claim it. It appeared to Eddie that Gable seemed sad by having to make this announcement. She probably wanted to keep it, he thought. And by right she should be able to keep it.

Edric usually isn't the type to get involved in matters that don't concern him, but there was something different about this particular matter. He saw the Shiriff go outside and decided to pursue him.

'Greetings, good sir.' He said to the Hobbit. 'My name is Edric Gulwine. I come from Rohan and just arrived here last night. An Elf lady mentioned something about finding a locket?' Edric made a slight pause, to gather his thoughts and think, before he actually said something he might regret later. 'Well, the locket aint mine or anything. But, if you ask me, if nobody claims it by the end of today, that locket should go to the lady who found it. It may not really be my business, but if you ask me, if someone can't hang onto their own things they deserve not to get it back. It's each person's business to take care of and protect their belongings. If they can't do that, than frankly, they don't deserve to have it. That's all.'

Edric didn't even wait for the shiriff to respond. He simply opened the door, to the inn, sat back down, and continued drinking his coffee.

[ninja91]

Hearing this from the gentle looking hobbit, Tarathiel gives his best smile he can despite his appearance.

"Well, I would not say no to some Lembas, but I will happily take anything you have," Tarathiel says, trying not to sound too desperate.

Before the elf knew it, he had joined his hobbit acquaintance in a mug of ale and was having a very good time.

"What brings you here to this little village?" asked Dick.

"Traveling out in the West with a small band. I got separated about a tenday ago. And since I have been looking for somewhere to rest...and I think I have found the place!" replied Tarathiel.

After an exchange of names, the tired elf felt at home.

"Why dont you meet some of my friends here? I am sure they would love to meet you," said Dick.

"I cant say no to that, either," the elf smiled.

[Forest Elf]

Gable stood and brushed the hay off of herself before shaking her head at a silly thought. She stood and looked at the injured pony, who was resting in his stall. “Who were you from, girl?” she whispered to the sleeping pony.

Gable stood and walked quietly into the Inn. She saw Tollers talking with a dwarf, and decided that thanking him could wait until later on. But, then again, it seemed as if he wasn’t looking himself.

[Tevildo]

Tollers fidgeted nervously as he heard Kuric inquire about the whereabouts of Bilbo Baggins and stated that he knew the hobbit. Tollers almost felt guilty for what he had done about Kuric's rooming arrangements.

The Shire was a tight knit place. Letters and gossip routinely floated back and forth with the help of the mail carriers of the Shire Post. Most hobbits had already heard of Bilbo's adventure, which had taken place some sixteen years before. Moreover, Tollers was a great admirer of Bilbo. Sometimes he dreamed of setting out on his own and having an adventure just as grand. But it wasn't as easy as that. Bilbo was a leisured gentleman and well-to-day burrow holder, while Tollers was only the younger son of a modest farmer who eeked out a decent living working dawn to dusk.

Despite an encroaching feeling of guilt for sending a friend of Bilbo's into a tricky situation, he really couldn't back out at this point. Plus, how did he know Kuric was telling the whole truth? Perhaps the dwarf was visiting the Shire to collect a debt or had somehow overheard Bilbo's name and was just using it to gain his confidence? Still, that slight sense of guilt remained, and he decided to answer Kuric truthfully about Bilbo, even if the dwarf was unlikely to get any sleep that night.

"Well, my friend Kuric. Glad you know of Bilbo. He has quite a reputation around these parts. Some folk think he is a bit.....er....unusual. But others, and I'm in this group myself, are quite taken with his stories, especially about treasure. I am afraid you are some miles away from Bag-end, since it lies in Hobbiton in the middle of the Shire. Indeed, 'tis not far from the old Green Dragon. Of course, I could tell you how to get there, or you might send a letter with the Shire post to see if Bilbo would welcome your visit. Or perhaps you could persuade Master Bilbo to pay a visit here? That would be nicest of all. So let me know if you need directions or would like to send a note out to Bilbo with the post...."

[Folwren]

Dick had not yet stopped scratching his head about the dwarf’s excitable entrance when he gave the man at the counter his question. He listened in silence to the traveler’s response with all his attention, but half of his mind was thinking about what it would be like having a guest like the dwarf...he wondered what sort of character he was, if he was rough, if they would have trouble with him, or if he would make trouble, or what…the questions went on, but he tried not to let any show on his face.

“No good sir, I have not had the fortune of visiting the Shire before, it seems all these years I have been missing out on a wonderful part of the world. However it is not the first time I have met your fine folk. Indeed I met a small group of Hobbits in Bree.”

Dick smiled again. For now, at least, he could settle his mind on this pleasant fellow. Tollers would take care of the dwarf, at least for the time being. Having taken a drink of his ale, the young man went on.

“Ah, now that was worth the long route I took! And even more worth it seeing customers of all sorts you get here! A rather ‘queer’ entrance from that dwarf.”

No joke, said Dick to himself. He sent a swift glance towards the said dwarf and nodded his head sagely. Tollers was walking back towards him, now, from delivering the dwarf his two pints and probably after taking an order for breakfast.

“But heights above, I’ve not introduced myself, please attribute my temporary lack of manners to the dust road! I am Tehol. I would be most gratified to know your name sir and the history of this fine establishment if you would take the time to tell all, I have been to a fair few Inn’s but none as homely as The Golden Perch. A fine name for sure!”

“Aye, the Perch is an excellent place,” said Dick with pride, his face lighting up again. He could not decide whether to be worried over the dwarf, or to be pleased to have such a friendly customer as this. “We do our best anyway,” he said after a short pause. He didn’t want to brag too much. Before he could go on, he felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned his head half way to see Tollers, leaning towards him in the fashion that people do when they have something they wish to impart in your ears. Dick leaned his head towards Tollers and the young hobbit whispered in his ear,

“I’m giving the dwarf over yonder the room at the far end of the passage. The large one, with two windows overlooking the street.”

Dick nodded and Tollers scurried off. The innkeeper turned towards Tehol again and opened his mouth to speak. But then a thought checked him and his words stopped in his throat. The large room at the far end of the passage? With two windows looking out over the street? By all means, that was probably the finest, underground room they had, and the dwarf would like it, but. . .but there was one objection. One very large objection. . .he could deal with that later, he had something else on his hands for now.

“I’ve hardly introduced myself properly,” he said, focusing on Tehol. “Besides telling you I was the innkeeper, I told you nothing else. I am Seredic Boffin, but everyone just calls me Dick. I’m not really from around these parts,” he went on. “I’d be very happy to tell you about the Perch and how she came about, but, my dear sir, you must be most uncomfortable, bent half over like that. Let’s go find a seat,” he said, with a glance around him to see that nothing needed immediate tending to, “and when we’re both more comfortable, I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

Dick liked a good chat when he could get one. He pointed Tehol over to an empty table and excused himself quickly so that he could fetch his pipe from the kitchen. It was mid morning by now and none too early for a short smoke and a stool to prop his feet up on. In five minutes he was settled in deep in his chair, one arm over the back, his feet on the chair underneath the table, a pipe in his hand, and the traveler opposite him with his ale mug in his hand.

“Now, if you get bored or want to hear something else, or want more to eat or drink, just interrupt me and we’ll make you comfortable,” said Dick, and began to tell him what he knew about the place. He told him about the Goodbody family, how he had met them and married the old innkeeper’s daughter. He talked about the many sorts of people who came in and out. He talked a great deal about their famous beer, how it was known all throughout Eastfarthing. “We have people come from miles about just to taste some of this!” he told him, quite in earnest, too. And in all this time, Tehol never interrupted him.

[Mänwe]

Limaris’s answer to Inn Keepers question was little more than a nugget of the thoughts he felt for the area. It was with mixed emotions that he had been bought to the borders of Buckland; being many leagues from his mother who this month would be aged at seventy years was the main angst. As a child he had enjoyed the freedom and did not care for when he spent long periods away from home.

However as he saw more winters his ideas matured, he began to realise that his parents, more so his mother now that his father had died would become reliant on him for support. There were only so many years one could work full time, and a tanner’s occupation was not for the faint hearted; the early mornings and physical aspect of the job that needed to be carried right though the day took its toll.

He remembered, during his short stay at home before travelling to the White City to join the Rangers, that his mother would come home and collapse into the chair in the kitchen. He had got used to starting the fire in the kitchen and carrying the water from the well and performing other small mundane tasks that were essential for a meal to be cooked and the house to remain clean.

His mother he knew was just too tired to do them. Her advancing years would not help the matter, and Limaris felt slightly guilty at pursuing his own ‘career’ over that of his mothers wellbeing, despite her assurances that she would cope and that it was her wish for him to leave for Minas Tirith and make something of his life.

And so at the end of every nostalgic look back into the recent past, his mind would fall upon his promise that he would return to her. Though entering into the Rangers now made the promise seem unlikely, any leave was short and far between, a reflection on the state of the world and his commanding officers concerns. Coming north and west had also bought him into contact with the ‘true’ Rangers as he called them, those who had descended from the Dúnedain.

Tall, taller than himself and despite their often ragged appearance, their cloths worn and faded by their constant work in the field, their features were ever noble, and it seemed to Limaris that no hardship could better them, though no-one spoke of their history, in parts their sad history he was sure if someone did they would bear the sad past without so much as a glimmer of regret.

However they were few and there was a majority of the Ranger force made up from soldiers from the White City and its surrounding territories. Limaris was among giants, for the commanding officer is of the Dúnedain race.

It had become a secret practice among the ‘men’ of the Rangers to try and find who among them were of the ancient lineage. He had heard rumours of only three; they were hard to spot despite their apparent noble appearance, for their mind and bodies were that of a man in his early thirties but their years numbered closer to eighty.

So it was evident to him that it would be some time yet before he was able to visit his mother again, he had considered simply leaving, but a man who abandoned his duty invited fate worse than death upon himself, so he had resigned himself to the wait of being given leave.

A thought that was threatening to ruin his intended mission here in Stock, for again he had slipped into a slight trance like state. He would have to maintain character if he did not want the Hobbit to suspect that he was someone other than who he said he was.

Focusing on the Inn Keepers face, he noticed his mouth moving, he had missed what the Hobbit had begun to say,

“We do our best anyway,”

Limaris forced a smile onto his face to break the all to serious and out of character look he had, it was at that exact moment that the Inn Keeper was distracted by another Hobbit tugging at his sleeve, thankful for the interruption he cleared his mind of any thought bar the here and now.

Once again he was the cheerful Tehol. A choice of name that was all too real to Limaris, for it was his father’s name, a name given to him by his father Liramis as he was affectionately known. A good earthy sounding name as were all the names throughout the Arahad family. Though his real name was….


“I’ve hardly introduced myself properly,”

The warm sound of the Inn Keepers voice bought him back to the conversation. The Hobbit that had been next to him had pattered off to the far end of the counter to collect a plate of food and what looked like a key from behind the counter off a rack.

“I am Seredic Boffin, but everyone just calls me Dick. I’m not really from around these parts,”

Hearing that last sentence he realised he now had another avenue of conversation that he might pursue, for Hobbits were known to be close knit especially within families, so no doubt Seredic had retained interest in his home area; consequently he probably had news of the place, news that would flesh out his report when he returned to the company.

“…but, my dear sir, you must be most uncomfortable, bent half over like that. Let’s go find a seat,”

Limaris had hoped he would have noticed, but wanted to appear too polite to say anything, and following Seredic’s hand, he was pointing to an empty table, hard to believe given the Inn was filled to the brim, like a good tankard of ale. Seated comfortably he hid the sharp jab of fire that ran up his right arm as the blood was allowed proper circulation now that he was not leaning on it, and listened to the Hobbit as he regaled him with tales of the Inn’s beginning and his own family.

The Goodbody family seemed to Limaris a solid and dependable one. No great adventurers here, but a family respected and who were keen to promote themselves, though perhaps that was more on Seredic’s side as it was clear he was most proud of the Golden Perch, evident due to the verve with which he spoke about the place.

“We have people come from miles about just to taste some of this!”

At these words, Limaris jumped at the invitation,

“Remarkable indeed! I as a traveller have met many a strange person on the road, but this place as you say attracts many folk from all around, surely you must get some very ‘queer’ ones from time to time?”

Well, he thought, who said the most direct approach was a bad one?

[mormegil]

“…But others, and I'm in this group myself, are quite taken with his stories, especially about treasure…”

Hearing the excited tones with which the hobbit spoke of Bilbo and treasure set Kuric at ease and warmed his feelings to his diminutive companion. Slouching a bit in his chair, Kuric crossed his right leg over his left and let Tollers finish speaking, There may be some hope for this one yet Kuric thought and couldn’t help but crack the faintest of a smile while putting down his mug from his latest drink. Kuric’s expression became pensive and appeared somewhat pained. He slowly raised his left hand and began methodically scratching his forehead causing it to exaggerate its naturally large furrow.

He had been on many adventures and had gathered much treasure in his relatively short life. It had always been his passion, despite efforts of his clan to be a bit more clannish; Kuric relished in the open road and setting off in search of treasure. While using treasure hunting as his excuse for adventure actually finding treasure was a perk at the end and not a requirement, as he already had a vast amount of wealth. No, for Kuric it was simply the adventure that mattered and while he felt at home in the mines of his people he never felt settled, only on the road was his heart ever at peace.

He had met many men and dwarves and occasionally had traveled with elves but never had he traveled with a hobbit; though he had heard a bit about them during his travels so he knew enough of them to know that this was unusual behavior in most hobbits.. The only hobbit he had ever heard of going on any sort of adventure was Bilbo. To see a hobbit speaking excitedly about treasure and adventure made him reconsider his view on hobbits. I wonder, are many hobbits like this or is this another rarity, another diamond in the rough just like Bilbo? Either way it was too early to tell but perhaps he would enjoy his conversation with this hobbit after all, an early rest might wait if he could just keep his eyes open. After such a long road Kuric initially had hoped to enter the tavern, eat and drink a bit, not engage in any conversation and simply go to bed. Tollers had made him reconsider this; he now hoped to have the stamina to give a tale or two of adventure to Tollers in hope of kindling an even greater love of adventure in the young Hobbit.

Leaning forward, Kuric animatedly stated, “Ye like treasure do ye? Well then, I may have a few tales that’ll be of interest. Of course, treasure’s a bit of a passion of mine so to speak, being a dwarf and all and what’s more treasure leads ye on adventure and somebody’s not truly alive unless he’s living.”

Letting his emotions get the better of him Kuric stood and with a firm pat on Toller’s back, Kuric proclaimed, “Tollers, you’re all right. I must say I was only coming here to get some beer and rest I never expected to meet a hobbit that would be akin to dear Bilbo in spirit. Why all that I know in Erebor speak very kindly of Bilbo and from all accounts I’ve heard hobbits don’t care much for adventure and it seems that mostly it’s true by yer own word, but you might be a bit different lad. Let’s send word to Bilbo perhaps I may pay him a proper visit soon after a little bit of a rest or perhaps he can come give us a visit if he has the time. Now tell me good hobbit, what do you know of adventure, are there any to be had in yer land here?”

[Tevildo]

Tollers listened carefully to what Kuric was saying while putting his hands behind his back and nervously twiddling his fingers. He was beginning to feel guilty for the trick he had played on the Dwarf by assigning him a room next to a passel of noisey and mischievous young hobbits. After hearing Kuric speak, he could almost like the fellow. He wanted to come up with a good idea for an adventure to make up for the lack of sleep that the poor Dwarf would surely suffer later that night.

"I think your idea of writing Bilbo is a good one. The Shire Post goes out every day, and you could buy a stamp and give the letter to the postman. Perhaps you could even try and persuade your friend to make a visit here. I've heard he spends some time in Bree every year, and it wouldn't be hard for him to stop at the Perch on his journey east. I'm sure Bilbo would have some grand ideas for an adventure, better than any I could come up with. You know....perhaps I could speak with Master Dick and see if he'd be willing to offer Bilbo a free room for a night or two in exchange for some of those stories he would tell us. But I wouldn't do that unless you gave me the word."

"Now, as to the other.....chasing an adventure down before Bilbo gets here, I am no expert on that. But this place has been livelier than usual. Yesterday, we had a wolf show up in the courtyard and a few of us managed to evict him from the premises. Perhaps there's a band of wolves around and we could track them down? But I'm afraid I don't know too much about wolves or their ways."

"Now trees and things that grow....that is another matter. I grew up on a farm and have plenty of experience with growing things. I don't know if you've heard about this but Stock is right next door to Buckland. It's just a stone's throw away over the bridge, and the folk around here pay homage to the thain. It's folk from the East Farthing that founded Buckland years ago, and we're mighty proud of that. But just east of Buckland stands the Old Forest....."

Tollers glanced around and lowered his voice to a whisper, as if he was afraid a bad spirit might overhear and come over and knock him on the head. "You see, Master Dwarf, there's some mighty strange doings in those parts. Some folks say the trees walk and talk when they have a mind to. Some of the old stories say that, years ago, those trees waged war against the Bucklanders and threatened to swallow up all the farmers. All the folk there as well as those of us from East Farthing got together and put the bad 'uns down and then built a big hedge to keep them out for good."

With a sigh, Tollers shook his head, "If you want an adventure close by, that might be the place to look. I've heard a pack of strange tales about the Old Forest, and you could find anything there.....that is, if you're brave enough to go looking for it. Only one word of warning..... You Dwarves are often partial to axes. But if you hope to come out alive, you might want to leave the axe behind or keep it covered in a satchel so that none of the trees will see it. Folks say bad things happen to those who wander into the forest bearing an axe in broad daylight. Even a brave adventurer like yourself might want to think hard about that."

"As to hearing the stories you have, I'd be so happy to do so....perhaps later today when folks gather for lunch or dinner? I'm sure that there are a considerable number of hobbits and other guests who would be happy to listen to your tales. Even folk who are stay-at-homes, and we have plenty of those, like to hear a good yarn while warming their toes beside the fire."

"If you'd like then, I can get you a map of the area that will show you exactly where the Old Forest is. You know, I wonder...." Tollers eyes gleemed with hope. "Do you think Master Bilbo would ever think of coming here and going with us....er, I mean with you....on an adventure in the Old Forest?"