The Golden Perch Inn

[Envinyatar]

Despite the ongoing promptings from the Shiriff, no one had come forward with any tangible information as yet. It seemed the majority of those gathered in the common room this morning had proved too sound sleepers for the passed night.

Hithadan, too, had passed the night wrapped tight in slumber, aided by a cup of warmed wine infused with willow-bark powder. His leg now felt somewhat better; he was able to put weight on it without the aid of his crudely fashioned walking stick. His ankle, too, seemed less swollen. He wished now, though, that he’d foregone the remedy. Perhaps, then..... He shook his head, chiding himself for letting his thoughts drift in that manner.

He made his way to a small table at the edge of the room, positioning the chair so that he could survey the room. At the corner of his eye he caught a furtive movement inching along the back wall. Someone was making his way toward the entry way to the kitchen. The figure looked familiar – brown tattered cloak, dark green checked cap pulled low on his brow. And that slight limp, that hitch in his step as he moved his right leg forward. Mungo . . . Mungo Brandybuck. Not one of the more celebrated members of the Brandybuck family. A smalltime thief – hen stealer, egg robber, mushroom poacher. One who helped himself to the prizes found in other folks’ traps. A partial list only of his mean accomplishments.

And one of those who would most likely not have been at home, asleep, last night.....

A few more steps and Mungo would be at the door and out of the inn once he’d made his way through the kitchen. Had the Shiriff’s call for someone to step forward with anything out of the ordinary they’d seen last night spooked him? Had he seen or heard something and not wanted any questions as to why he’d been where he’d been.

Hithadan stood and called out in a loud voice. ‘Mungo Brandybuck! Stop right where you are!’

Mungo paused for the briefest of moments and then only to glare at the Ranger. He dove toward the door.

‘Someone stop him!’ Hithadan yelled, pointing his stick at the fleeing Hobbit.....

[Rose]

The ranger’s voice rang out above the general hubbub in the common room, just catching the attention of the elder Hobbit as she made her way to the kitchen entryway. Rose and Prim had already gone past the door and ducked into the hallway leading to their rooms and that of the missing cook.

Granny Greenhill stopped dead in her tracks at the man’s command, and just in time, it seemed, as the object of the ranger’s attention came hurtling toward her. Mungo had thrown his hands and arms in front of him, intending to push her out of the way. Her old limbs responded to the urgency of the situation and she managed to sidestep his headlong onslaught.

Mungo plunged willy-nilly past her. And as he did so, she raised her stout yew wood walking stick in a firm two handed grip and smacked him soundly on the backs of his knees. He stumbled with a loud oomph and went skidding a short distance on his belly.

He tried to scramble up to his feet, but Granny hobbled up to him at a rather remarkable pace for one her age and gave him a sharp thump between his shoulder blades. She stood over him, glaring as he sneaked a look up at her.

‘Wished I’d a’caught you in my henhouse, you scalliwag, that time my prize hen went missing! I know it was you, Mungo Brandybuck, so don’t you go looking all guiltless at me. And I’m betting that it was you, too, as stole those combs of honey from my bee shed.’ She shook her stick at him for emphasis.

Several of the nearby lads ran up to secure Mungo - and just in time to his calculations as it looked as if she meant to whack him once more for good measure.

‘You just march him over to the Shiriff and that ranger,’ she instructed them. ‘Wouldn’t be one whit surprised if he didn’t have a hand somehow in Miz Cela’s going missing!’

‘My stars!’ she said as they marched Mungo off. The surge of action and excitement hit her all of a sudden and she felt a bit weak in the knees. She made her way to a nearby table and sat down on one of the chairs. ‘Land’s sake! That was a bit of a hullaballoo now wasn’t it?!’ She held her right hand to her chest, catching her breath.

‘Thirsty work,’ she went on, nodding her head to a Hobbit standing next to her. ‘Fetch old Gran a half pint, won’t you dear? A little something to steady the nerves.’

Her investigation of what Rowan and Prim were doing, and just exactly where they’d gone off to could wait, she decided . . . until she’d caught her breath fully and fortified herself with a bit of ale.

[Lilly]

Away from the Inn – Gardenia Boffin’s place northwest of Stock

‘Well now, Jolly, looks like we're just in time!’ Hugh raised his nose appreciatively and took in the scent of fresh baked seed cake – honey sweetness, yeasty, vanilla, with a hint of lemon, he thought, in the thin icing she drizzled over it. He turned up the narrow dirt path to Gardenia’s place, a snug little dwelling tucked into the side of one of the many low-lying hills which dotted the area.

Jolly stopped just short of the raised porch at the foot of the round, bright yellow door. The door was just starting to swing open and the familiar face of Miz Gardenia peeked out, smiling broadly at both the pony and his rider.

Hugh heaved himself off the back of his little steed and eased himself down to the ground. ‘Morning, m’am!’ he called out, untying his satchel from the saddle. He fetched out a packet of letters from the satchel and thumbed through them for the two he knew were addressed to Gardenia.

As he did so, Gardenia stepped down from the porch and lead Jolly to the old oak tree which grew in her front yard. She had a little shed there, a small place where her own little donkey sheltered when the days grew cooler. For now, the donkey spent time in a fenced pen, chomping the hay Gardenia left for him each morning and drowsing beneath the oak boughs’ shade. Gardenia fetched them both several handfuls of oats and two apples each. When she’d seen to their comfort, she turned her attention to Hugh who’d hauled his satchel up on the porch and sat on the step waiting for her.

‘Go on in!’ she said to him, waving him toward the doorway. ‘I’ve got the water just off the boil. I’ll make us some tea and we’ll have a nice piece of seedcake.’ She took the letters he offered as she stepped up to the porch.

Hugh took his usual place at the old pine table and watched as Gardenia bustled about her little kitchen. ‘Sit yourself on down, Miz Boffin!’ he urged, pushing her chair out for her. ‘Let the tea brew away for a bit while I tell you what I heard from Pearl Tunnelly about Rowly Sandheaver’s wife’s brother.’

Gardenia put the cozy on the old brown teapot and set it nearby on the counter. She sat down, making herself comfortable, and leaned in toward Hugh, awaiting what news he’d gleaned along his route.

[Tiffany Aching]

‘My goodness!’ Miribelle’s face was a study in dismay and distaste as she edged herself around the commotion and over to her friend’s table. ‘What’s going on this morning, Master Tavaro?’ she inquired, taking the seat he offered. ‘I did hear something as I entered about Cook gone missing.’ She leaned over and scooted her carpetbag well beneath the chair. ‘Here I’ve only been gone the night and had hoped for a bite of second breakfast and a hot mug of tea . . . and oh my, what do I find!’ The inn in a commotion, the Shiriff asking questions, and that scoundrel Mungo laid low by dear old Penstemon Greenhill!!’

She sniffed a little as she watched him being escorted toward the Shiriff. ‘A pity, that Mungo! Shame of the Brandybucks. It’s a wonder he hasn’t been outlawed from these parts.’ She turned back toward the Elf. ‘What’s he done now?’ She frowned as a sudden thought assailed her. ‘Oh, no! Don’t tell me he’s the one who’s got something to do with Miz Cela’s disappearance!?’

As Miribelle waited for the Elf’s answer her eyes darted about the room looking for one of the servers. There were none in sight. ‘Ah well, looks like there’s no hope of that tea and breakfast now,’ she thought to herself seeing the table piled with near empty skillets and teapots scattered here and there in disarray.

[Noinkling]

Mungo stopped abruptly and yanked his left arm from his guard’s grip. ‘You got me well enough looked after, dontcha, you two?’ He snaked his right arm from the other guard’s grip and bent over a bit to rub at the backs of his legs. ‘Stupid old sow!’ he growled turning to glower at Granny Greenhill. He stood up hunching his shoulders this way and that to ease the sting of the whack she’d given him after he’d fallen.

‘Shoulda followed the first of my druthers and passed the Perch on by. Always too many busybodies here. Shoulda kept on hoofin’ it downriver; that’s what I shoulda done.’ He looked from one to the other of his guards, but neither of them appeared to be paying much attention to his ‘shouldas’.

Mungo’s cap, askew from his recent fall, slipped off his head and thumped to the floor. He picked it up and slapped it soundly against his leg, as if to knock off what dirt it might have gotten from the dusty boards. It was a vain attempt since there were layers of grime already embedded in the cap and what dirt there was dislodged was really the dust that flew up from his breeches. He smoothed back his greasy curls and shoved the cap firmly back on his head.

He glanced slyly from one to the other of his escorts, sizing up whether he might be able to escape. No chance! Both pairs of eyes were fixed firmly on him. With a resigned sigh he smoothed down his raggedy tunic and limped on toward the Shiriff and that loudmouthed Ranger.

‘Din’t do nothin’!’ he said, coming to a halt in front of Rusty Smallburrow. Mungo hitched his thumbs in the waistband of his breeches and puffed out his chest like a feisty little banty rooster.

‘Didn’t say you did, Mungo,’ the Shiriff replied. ‘Though I’m sure if I looked close enough there’d be something you’d not want the light of day shone on.’

Mungo narrowed his eyes and dropped his gaze to the floor. ‘Whatcha want, then?’ he mumbled.

‘Miz Cela Brandybuck’s gone missing, disappeared,’ Rusty continued. He shook his head as Mungo started to protest his innocence. ‘Now I’m not saying you had anything to do with it. But . . . . I’m supposing you were out last night, like most nights. On business, of course.’ Rusty cleared his throat meaningfully and went on. ‘What we want to know is if you heard anything or saw anything as you were out and about. Anything that could help us find Miz Cela.’

Mungo scraped his foot on the floor and pursed his lips. ‘Mighta,’ he answered. ‘Now I’m not saying I was doing anything but passing by, but I did find myself coming up the west bank of the river last night . . . .’

Before he could continue, the Shiriff asked, ‘The river? You mean the Brandywine, yes? You were coming north up the Brandywine?’

‘Yeah, sure, the big river it was. And north. Anyways, like I was saying I was stepping along at a fair pace when I heard some voices drift over the water. I stopped, and peeked careful like out through the bushes. Was a little cloudy, you know; moon’s light was weak through ‘em. There was a boat with three fellows in it. Leastways it looked like three fellows; they all had cloaks on and the hoods pulled up. Their faces were all in the dark. One was rowing; the other two were talking, arguing some. Couldn’t hear what exactly.’ He paused for a moment, nodding his head at the memory. ‘Coulda been a female voice I heard from one of them. Hard to tell. Didn’t that Cela have kind of a low voice? Anyway, the boat and whoever was in it passed by pretty quickly – what with the current and the hard pulling of the fellow doing the rowing.’

Mungo shrugged his shoulders at the end of his story. ‘Yep, that’s about all there was to it. Like I said, they was moving like a hot knife through butter now wasn’t they?’ No need to elaborate further he cautioned himself. They only want to know about Miz Cela. No need for them to know what he’d been about at the time.

[Envinyatar]

Mungo seemed to have finished with his brief tale of what he’d seen last night. Too brief for the Ranger’s liking.....there were some details that needed to be ferreted out, he thought.

‘Now you said you were coming up the west bank of the river last night,’ Hithadan began, stepping forward toward the Hobbit. ‘Where were you exactly when you saw this boat and its passengers?’ He fixed Mungo with an expectant look, his brow raised in emphasis. A knowing little smile flitted briefly at the corners of his lips. ‘It would be most helpful, you can see can’t you? For us to know how far this party is ahead of us.’

Hithadan sat down in a chair quite near the Hobbit, his grey eyes steady on Mungo’s face.

[Noinkling]

The Hobbit pulled the cap from his head and ran a grubby hand through his hair. Followed close on by him twisting the poor old cap in his hands in a rather nervous manner.

‘Come on, now, Hitch!’ Shiriff Rusty urged. He tapped his foot expectantly on the hardwood floor. ‘You wouldn’t want us to have to be looking to hard at where you might have been and what happenings were going on ‘bout then, would you? Wouldn’t go well, if you were thought to be guilty of holding back our investigation and then found to have had a hand in something on the shady side, too.’

Mungo felt as if he were trapped twixt two snakes. Poisonous snakes. Their eyes fixing him with a hungry look. And it was no help that the ranger had tweaked a smile. He squirmed, feeling much like a coney about to be pounced on.

‘Well, right, then,’ he managed to mumble. He sucked in the corner of his lower lip considering the events of the past night. ‘You see, I was down near Hays End, now, wasn’t I . . . . and that’s when I seen what I did. The boat and those three. It was ‘round midnight, I reckon. And it was a brief look I had at them. I was high-tailing it . . . . er, that is, hurrying, you know, cuz it was going to be a long trip on foot back to Stock. Had some business here that needed to be got to.’

Mungo stopped abruptly, realizing he was heading toward them knowing some unnecessary details. What ‘business’ he’d had hoped to finish at the Inn had most likely been scared off by all this morning’s hubbub anyway.

‘So, there you have it. Don’t know much more than that.’ He settled his cap back on his head and gave a quick look about the room. Nope . . . . no hope of seeing who he needed to be seeing here.