The Golden Perch Inn

[Groin Redbeard]

He had been walking for quite awhile. The forest that he was walking through was long gone, and gave way to a beautiful hilly meadow. There was not a hobbit in sight.

Groin noticed that storm clouds were rolling in from the south. Even as he stood watching them the winds began to increase and the Sun’s bright rays faded. Groin didn’t like it one bit. He had walked a good distance away from the comforts of the Inn.

He was contemplating on whether to head back or just wait for the storm to pass. A jolt of lightning in the distance made the dissension for him. As fast as his short stubby legs could carry him, he began to run back to the village of Stock and the Golden Perch Inn.

[Folwren]

“Oh, yes, sir,” Dick said to the tall elf. “I’ve got it right...in the kitchen...” his voice trailed off and he tilted his head to look at his customer more straight in the face. “I swear he doesn’t even see me anymore,” Dick muttered to himself. But all the same, he turned and pattered at an admirable pace to the kitchen where he retrieved the locket and brought it back out for Gwathagor’s inspection.

“Now, it’s a very fine piece,” Dick said as he returned. The elf seemed to have come back to the present and his eyes focused on Dick. “I don’t think you’d ruin or anything, but just mind that it’s not. I’d like to be able to give it back to whoever found it, that is all. Our Gable found it, you know.”

Before he could find something more to say, a deafening crack of thunder split through the air. “Good gracious me!” Dick cried, when the rumbling ceased. He ran to the window, leaving the locket in Gwathagor’s hands, and peered out, leaning on the deep window sill. “It looks like we’re going to have some rain,” he observed, taking in the dark, rolling clouds. “Tollers! Tollers!” He turned and trotted to the kitchen, making arrangements the entire way. “We’ll have to light the lamps and candles early, no doubt, what with those storm clouds comin’ in. Tollers! Make up the fire, will you? There’s the door, better go see if it’s a new customer.” And accordingly, Dick turned right around and went back to the common room.

But it was just Groin the dwarf again, come back from wandering about, apparently. As he shut the door behind himself, the rain began to fall in torrents.

[Groin Redbeard]

Groin came panting up to the Golden Perch Inn, just as the rain really began to come down. He pounded on the door in a furry. Looking behind him he saw all the locals scrambling for shelter as the rain began to pour.

He pounded on the door once more, but the door opened before he could finish. It was Toller; Groin entered and nodded thanks. The room was lit by a dozen candles; all the guests were talking amongst themselves, he even saw a couple new faces that weren’t here when he left. He noticed the elf he had seen in the corner booth leaning against the counter grasping something in his hand. The elf looked up and caught the dwarf’s stare, Groin quickly looked away.

“Excuse me, Toller.” The dwarf said, grabbing the hobbit by the shoulder.
“I wonder if you would be kind enough to get me a good ol’ mug of hot Cider.” He placed a coin in the surprised hobbit’s hand, and then grabbed a chair at the nearest table.

He chuckled to himself as he watched the stunned Toller head into the back room. Not too many dwarves would turn down ale for any other drink. But this dwarf had weakness for Cider, and on a cold rainy day there’s nothing better than a hot mug of Cider. Toller came back with the mug and placed it in front of Groin. Groin then picked up the mug and decided to move to a corner booth.

As he made his way between the tables, clumsily bumping the other patrons, he noticed the beautiful lady that he saw out on the road. He stared at her as he scooted into a booth next to one of the inn’s windows. He then diverted his gaze to the window and watched as the rain come down in torrents.

“I surely wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of this.” He muttered to himself as he slowly sipped his drink

[Eönwë]

It was still raining when Songo came into the Inn. He had come all this way from the outskirts of Bree to visit his uncle Carnale in Hobbiton to celebrate Carnale's 70th birthday. He was hurrying back to Bree, but needed a place to stay for the night. Besides, he couldn't stay outside in that infernal rain! The storm had just come out of nowhere, and Songo's hat had been blown away. He had been particularly attached to his hat, as it had been passed down to him form his Great-Uncle, who had been quite the traveller.

As he opened the door, the warm air came out to greet him and he decided that he would probably stay a week here. People were talking festively, and drinking Ale and Cider, and Songo could have sworn that he saw a dwarf tripping on a table, but re-balancing before anyone could see. He felt at home. It reminded him of the Prancing Pony, except that most of the residents here were Hobbits. But then he was a Hobbit, so he couldn't really complain. He looked around again and could see that strange dwarf gazing out of the window, with a forlorn expression on his face, Songo thought, sipping what he hoped was warm cider

Just then Songo realized how cold he was and warmed himself up by the large fire. Then he went over to the Barman and asked him for a pint of his finest ale.

[Folwren]

Dick pattered in and out of the kitchen and behind the bar, filling new orders and often returning half the time simply because he had forgotten something before. Finally, he found a moment to stand still, briefly. Nothing seemed out of place. The guests were standing and sitting, some singling, others in small groups, all looking just a tad bit gloomy. But who wouldn’t, with the outside dark as evening and thunder rolling and thundering.

“Excuse me, sir,” a hobbit said, approaching the bar. “I’d like a pint of your finest ale.”

Dick smiled immediately. “Of course! Right away!” He bent and whipped out a mug as quick as a blink of an eye and began to fill it from the ale-butt just behind him. He was setting it on the bar top when the door blew open violently and in staggered a tiny creature, barely recognizable for a hobbit with a hat pulled low over his eyes and his little coat soaked and streaming with rain water.

“Shut the door, Fred!” Dick shouted to be heard over the great noise and thunder of the rain outside. “Shut the door and quit letting the wet in!”

“Sorry, Pops!” the hobbit child said. He lifted the brim of the hat to grin at his father before turning and using both hands to shut the door.

[shaggydog]

As the first drops of rain spattered in the dust of the road leading from the river, Jims dug his heels into the small horse’s sides to urge it to greater speed. A useless waste of energy on his part, Jims knew, as the horse had only one discernible gait, and that being something between a slow shuffle and a fast amble. The journey from Bree had taken quite a bit longer than Jims had hoped, although they had all been aware of why this particular beast had been abandoned in his father’s stable several months ago. In lieu of a cash payment for its previous owner’s room and board at their inn, the beast made a poor bargain of the affair. But Jakes, Jims’ older brother, had been convinced that with a few days worth of oats and rest, the superior quality of this animal would shine forth. Of course he had to believe that, as it was Jakes that had “struck the bargain with” the seedy looking tinker who had half pulled, half pushed the poor thing into the tiny stable yard of their inn. Repressing a sigh, Jims peered through the growing darkness of the rain, which had turned mid-day into evening, and was happy to at least see his intended destination coming into view. The Golden Perch!

A clap of thunder boomed in Jims’ ear just as he reached the inn. The rain began to fall in earnest as he dismounted, looking about for a stable lad. Seeing none, and no wonder as the rain was coming in sheets now, Jims tugged at the reins and the horse, for once as eager to move as its master, stepped quickly enough across the yard and into the relative shelter of the shedrow. Without hesitation, Jims turned the horse into the nearest empty stall, hurriedly removing the saddle and bridle. Having grown up as an innkeeper’s son and having spent every day of his life seeing to customers, Jims knew his best course was to look inside the inn for the lad or the owner and settle with them then as to where best to house the beast. There was already an ample supply of hay in the rick and a wooden bucket of water hanging from a peg in the wall. Satisfied, Jims bolted the stall door shut behind him, making a dash across the yard to the round door of the inn, which at that very moment was just on the point of closing.

He was surprised to feel no small resistance to his push as he attempted to make his way inside. Who or what was on the other side of the door he didn’t know but with the rain now pouring down his collar he was determined to gain access. With one last good shove, the door gave way and Jims half stumbled into the common room, almost tripping over the body of a very small hobbit child who lay sprawled across the threshold. Stepping over the wee one at the last moment, Jims barely managed to keep himself up right, hanging on to the door for balance. A great gust of wind and several buckets of water followed Jims in as well, and his first thought was to close the door or risk the possible drowning of the small child at his feet. This being accomplished, the man then turned his attention back to the room and its inhabitants. Kneeling, he offered a hand to the child, saying, “My apologies young master. I’m afraid I mistook you for a door stop.”

Jims wondered how his weak attempt at humor would sit with the trespassed against hobbit child.
.

[Eönwë]

Songo was happy. He had just finished that nice mug of beer, and was about to get a warm cider, to finallly relinquish the cold clinging to him.

But then, in the middle of nowhere, he saw his hat floating around. Having never consumed alcohol, he thought that maybe this was what hapeed when you "got drunk", or the more polite phrase "made merry". He thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But as he focused on it ("Wow, this beer must really be getting to my head" he thought) through the blur of his alcphol-induced-stupor he realised that it was on the head of a small child. It vaguely reminded him of his younger brother when he had been younger. But then, everyone looked the same now.

He was going to go over to the child and get his hat back, but being quite shy, he would have normally held back. But tonight was different. Just as he plucked up, the courage to go over there and talk the boy into giving him back his property, a tall, strong looking man barged open the door and knocked over the poor child. He might have been slightly angry at the boy before, but hobbit-children are hobbit-children, and you can't blame them, not really. But anything he did have against the boy melted away instantly, as he saw him fall, and the expresssion on the child's face almost wanted to make him burst into tears.

He thought that perhaps he would go over there later, and ask him when he had recovered.

But just as he was pondering this, the hat dropped, and he darted forward to take it. But just as he grasped it, he saw the boy reach for it too, but it was too late, he already had it. And then he saw the little one's face, and his large eyes, brimmming with tears, staring sorrowfully at him. He decided that he would give him the hat as a gift, and that it didn't really matter, not if you really thought about it. And the child's face broke into a smile as he handed him the item of clothing.

The boy wore it truimphantly, even though it fell over his eyes, and he had to lift it up every so often, Even so, it made Songo smile to see someone so happy with his gift.

He decided that now it was high time for that cider he had been wanting for the last half hour.