The Golden Perch Inn

[Ilya]

Widlast nodded, then realized he was acknowledging at the carvings in the woodwork instead of the innkeeper, and so nodded again, stooping slightly to get through the door. Inside, there was the usual yawning fireplace and scrubbed bar, these two markedly airier than the most he'd seen. A very easy place. But as he fixed on those who filled the room, it gave him such pause that he ran a hand through his hair again, which only mussed it further.

One elf in strange country was all well enough, but seated in the common room were at least two others of the fair folk, eating with a chil- no, he could see that one was another holbytla. "The doings here," he murmured."The doings here. Strange. Anyroad, your health and good horses," he spoke what he hoped would be a suitable greeting down to the innman, his eyes lingering on the embroidery of the holbytla's surcoat. He said no more, for then he spotted a table next to the fire, on which waited a steaming cup seemingly conjured out his thoughts. As he moved to the table, though, he realized it was a little table. Very likely he would crush the chair. Yet on the other side of the fireplace was a man-sized stool, so unslinging his haversack and resting his head on the warm stone, he nearly fell down upon it.

[Undómë]

‘Here, Gran!’ Rowan placed the little carved ship back into the shell-covered box and placed it in the older Hobbit’s hands. ‘You keep this safe and we’ll look it over more when I’m done.’ She watched as Granny Greenhill placed the box into one of the large pockets on her apron.

‘Coming!’ she called out to Prim who’d already started back toward the Common Room. ‘Now who did you say we’re freshening up the rooms for?’ Rose asked, catching up to her friend. ‘Ah, three of the Fair Folk is it?’ She stopped at the linen closet and opened the doors wide. ‘Give us a hand, then, Prim,’ she went on, piling three sets of sheets on her friend’s outstretched arms.

‘Yes, I know,’ she said answering Prim’s arched eyebrows. ‘I made sure I pulled out the long sheets. ‘Can’t have those Elvish toes poking out from the bottom of the covers, now can we?’

The two made their way quickly to the rooms reserved for the Big Folk and began to make up the beds, hang fresh towels, set out small bunches of flowers in earthenware vases and leave each a pitcher for water and a mug for drinking.

They were just smoothing out the green-hued quilt in the last room, their work almost done when Rowan leaned toward Prim and whispered across the bed. ‘You’ll never believe what I found in Cook’s room. Way back of the top shelf of that old wardrobe.’

‘Well?’ Prim whispered back, her brow furrowing. ‘What? What?!’ Spill it, Ro!’

Rowan put her finger to her lips, lifting her chin toward the door in a quick movement. ‘Someone’s coming, Prim. I’ll tell you later.....’

[Rose]

Granny's walking stick meets Widlast's foot....

Penstemon walked slowly back toward the common room, her gnarled yew stick tap-tapping along the well worn floor boards. Curious sort of a day she mused to herself, the knobbly fingers of her left hand patting the little case in her apron pocket. And curiouser still she thought on, peering about the room as she stepped through the entryway. ‘My, my,’ Granny reaching her hand up to pat against her heart. It was as if the disappearance of Miz Celandine had never occurred.....and just this morn, too. Business at the Inn seemingly flowed on as usual.

Someone had tidied away her mug along with her plate of toast and jam, Granny noted. ‘All to the better, really,’ she thought, looking about for a place to sit down. There, on the far side of the fireplace, was a nice little table. Woolgathering as she ambled toward the inviting chair, she didn’t notice the boot sticking out in her pathway, the rather large boot. Her stick thumped down squarely on the top of it.

‘Begging your pardon, good sir!” she said, looking up in surprise at the man attached to the boot. ‘Didn’t mean to mash your foot so!!’

[Lilly]

Away from the Inn....but getting nearer

‘You had any thoughts, yet, on that letter, Hugh?’ Hands on hips, Will looked expectantly up at the postman.
Hugh lowered his flask of tea mid-swig and swiped his lips with the back of his hand. ‘What’s that you said, Will?’ he asked, pushing the cork securely into the neck of the flask. His mind had been on how his hindside was beginning to ache a bit, to chafe in the saddle, what with all this hurrying along back to the Inn.

He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a considering sigh. ‘Well, let’s see. Hmmmm....it was a big thick letter. Much handled. You know....a number of dirty fingerprints and some water stains, too. Crumpled, probably from being stuffed into sacks, and pouches, and such.’ Hugh pursed his lips and nodded his head as something jogged his memory.’You know, I think the hunter fellow who passed it on to me said he’d come up from the south and....and the west. And he’d got it from another man.....Oh good gravy, I know something was said about that fellow, too, but I just can’t seem to remember.

[Ilya]

The warmth snug in the fireplace's stones rubbed against his temple and lulled Widlast into feeling lead-limbed and content, a sensation he knew would vanish in a moment as the aches of the road remembered themselves to his mind. He stuck out his boot and cracked his toes and sighed. Probing a bruise on his wrist, Widlast was sifting for what would've occasioned it when he felt something push on his boot. That one I'll be able to account for, he thought, and looking down in a saw a sturdy walking stick withdrawing quickly from the toe.

He followed the stick up to...quite a sight. Like the innkeeper, she looked no more than a child, but was snowy-haired, withered and weathered, and in a boisterous, venerable tone was making him an apology. "Didn’t mean to mash your foot so!!" she said. A blink was all the surprise he betrayed, though studying bright brown eyes age had not robbed of their quickness, Widlast wouldn't have been surprised if she'd caught it. He laughed a cracked, unseasoned laugh that scratched his throat coming up. "No worries, old mother," he said, "no worries at all."

Bending down to rub his toe, he felt the soreness more in his neck and shoulders than in his foot. "All's where it ought to be," Widlast said but too soon, for just as he spoke the bodkin tucked in his bracer came loose. He caught it ere it hit the ground, but these holbytlan seemed unalarmable folk until they were alarmed. The last thing he wanted was to be chased out of Stock for supposed thuggery on account of a hidden dagger. As though backing away from a spooked horse, he lowered his eyes and rummaged through his haversack and, graces be, found a bruised apple within. He made sure to cut it in a slow, measured way, and offered the first piece to the holbytla woman, hoping the creases made by his smile would cloak those of his nerves.

[Undómë]

Rowan made her way back to the Common Room once she’d given a last look about to the Elves’ rooms. ‘Good enough for my Great-aunt Tansy,’ she said to herself in a satisfied manner. ‘And my stars! She’s as picky as picky can be!!’

The Innkeeper looked busy, so she waited for a break in the hubbub about him and then approached. ‘Master Boffin,’ she said, catching his attention. ‘The rooms you wanted are done and ready for their occupants.’ She gave him a quick smile and hurried away to help Prim with the customers.

‘Here, let me help clear up those tables, Prim. Perhaps you can go into the kitchen and take a look-see in the pantry. I’ll come in soon.’ Rowan chewed thoughtfully at the corner of her lip. ‘We’ll have to be thinking something up for lunch, now, won’t we?’

As she piled up an armful of plates and mugs, Rowan caught sight of an interesting pair near the fireplace. Granny! And some rough looking Big Folk fellow! Now isn’t that interesting....

[Rose]

‘No worries, old mother,’ he said, ‘no worries at all.’

My, my! Polite enough for one of the Big Folk, isn’t he? Granny nodded as the fellow turned aside her apology with a soft counter. She watched then as he deftly retrieved his escaping knife.

Bit nervous, though... Penstemon thought to herself as he pulled out a well-travelled apple from his sack and carefully cut it. And careful as well to avoid looking at her; though for what reason she could not fathom. Taking the piece offered she waited as he cut one for himself.

Looks a bit rough around the edges. Granny glanced from the man back to the apple wedge, thinking the same could be said of either. She took a bite, savoring the surprising sweetness of the weathered fruit. ‘My stars! That’s tasty!’ She beamed up at the fellow. ‘Not from the trees round these parts, is it?’

Granny nodded her approval and finished off the slice.

‘Now where’s my manners!? Name’s Penstemon Greenhill....from roundabout here. And who might you be, young man?’

[Undómë]

‘Hmmmm....perhaps if I work my way nearer to those two I can find out what they’re talking about.’ Rowan fetched a pot of hot, sweetspice tea, mugs, a basket of toast, and small jar of honey and one of blackberry jam. Fixing a cheerful smile on her face, she made her way toward where Granny and the Man were sharing an apple.

‘Thought you two might like something to fill in around your slices,’ she said brightly, putting the tray she carried down on the table.

[Ilya]

Widlast had paused with his tongue pressed against his teeth when the serving lass came over. "Nothing for me, mistress, thank you kindly," he said, shaking his head more from bewilderment than anything else. What he'd heard of these parts was an insular folk, creatures who could vanish into the ground. And there was trouble here too, he sensed that, for all the easy stillness of the inn. Yet these two were civil, chatty, even. He fingered the serving tray, and then looked back up, at the old woman still relishing her apple-slice, and the younger girl, a easy smile trying to hold back the sheer weight of her curiosity. No, he could not conjure these holbytlan in a hole in the ground.

"Penstemon...Campanulatus, the bell-flower," he mused and then answered her. "I am Widlast," shrugging and running a hand through his hair, he leaned back against the wall. Hopefully, a foreign-sounding word or two would do for the pair. The elder seemed sharp, and as he picked at the dirt under his thumb, he knew the more she asked the more likely it would be that he'd have to lie.

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen found herself a free table by a window and having stowed her case under the bench installed herself on its padded seat - even old Elvish bones appreciate some comfort - the stools would be fine for the twins when they came in. Besides it meant she could see what was going on outside as well as in the common room - and there was definitely something going on though she had not the chance to ask Mr Boffin about it .

Perhaps the children would have found out she thought, they were certainly taking their time with the pony she mused as she folded her grey cloak and placed it neatly next to her. But here they were,slipping in to the room as subtly as cats, seemingly on better terms that when they had left her. That was something.

She spoke to them softly, in their own tongue "Here you are - what kept you? I have spoken to Mr Boffin myself so it can't be that? - the rooms are arranged but if one of you could arrange some tea that would be lovely. I think we may be too late for breakfast and too early for lunch - but I get the impression that today isn't quite a normal day"

Her niece slid off in the direction of the kitchen while her nephew replied:

"There was no one about in the yard so we sorted Bracken out ourselves - found him an empty stall and hay and water and left his harness on a rack in the tack-room. If it is wrong it'll have to be put right later. The trap we have just left for now - I think it will be alright but I don't know about the things in it. Should we bring them in?"

Mithalwen thought of the hobbit she had seen when she first arrived - he had looked decidedly shify, and while it was unfair to judge on first sight, they had seemed to have been interrogating him. However it seemed she couldn't even give her craft away now so maybe a thief would be doing her a favour.

"Don't worry - I have the most important things here with me - and I am sure Mr Boffin will arrange things with his stableman. You have made your peace with your sister have you not? "

Cir nodded. Clearly it was going to be hard to keep much from their aunt.

"And you aren't going to tell me about it?"

The boy looked uncomfortable and lowerered his gaze -"It doesn't matter anymore..." his voice trailed, reluctant to speak in his sister's absence but aware that his aunt seemed to know regardless of whether he spoke or not.

"hmm, well maybe I can guess, but we'll leave it for now at least. Now when Enpauriel returns with that tea, I think you may have your presents - not that I am quite sure you deserve them". Mithalwen added with a grin.

[Strongbow]

He had passed many miles, from Imladris to the Shire. He had chosen, on a whim, to avoid The Prancing Pony, and instead he had wound around the Weather Hills, taking his time. The Dúnedain had told him that the Men of Bree would look down on him, and told him that the rumors of haunting of Fornost, which Men called "Deadman's Dike", where just that: rumors. So, Tarden son of Taros has traveled over the lonely country with only his trusted companion, Meglis.

Just west of Fornost Erain, Tarden turned sharply south to meet the Road as it entered the Shire. The Baranduin was too wide and deep to ford, and even though he would keep south more than was necessary, he was forced to take the Bucklebury Ferry into the Eastfarthing. The Ferry itself had given him no trouble, although the ferry-hobbits were a bit afraid of his dog. His dog was bigger than he was. The people of the Eastfarthing were very open towards him, particularly in Buckland, and many a time was he directed to his destination: the Golden Perch, where there was, reputedly, the best beer in the Eastfarthing. As a matter of fact, he had heard that particular phrase several times that day.

Very odd, he thought it, that there were that many riders on the Road, just inside the borders of the Shire. His eyes could descry, in the far distance, the Perch, set in the side of a hill, and many posts for horses outside. Uneventfully, he came to the place, the golden sun hammering home the Golden name of the Inn. He had already heard that a many of his size would have to stoop to enter into the place, and the round door was not wide enough for him and Meglis to go through at the same time.

His eyes squinted in the difference of the lighted as he bent himself near double, and stood up finally, his eyes darting about, spying the fireplace, and the counter. He smiled at the Common Room, and turned to the counter, to the hobbit behind the counter.

"Sir," he inquired politely. "Would it be alright for my dog to follow? I assure you, he's quite well-behaved, and will follow any word I tell him." As if to demonstrate his good behavior, the black, bear-like beast sat, trying to look as sweet as he can.

[Folwren]

Dick stared with huge eyes at the dog. It was more terrifying than even the legends of Farmer Maggots dogs, which were by all accounts as fierce and large as any dragon! But this! This dog was as big as two dragons. Dick continued to stare.

He didn’t look very harmful, sitting upon his haunches (which were as big as a pony’s), with the tip of his tongue protruding just slightly. He met Dick’s eye squarely and then shut his mouth all the way and tilted his head slightly to the left, looking questioningly at the hobbit.

Dick suddenly came to his senses and jerked his eyes away. ‘Never look a dog in the eye!’ his mum had told him, whenever the topic came up. ‘It makes them mad and they’ll eat you!’ To a hobbit next to a dog this size, that was a very real threat.

“So long as he doesn’t disturb the other customer’s, I guess he will be alright,” he said.

[Rose]

‘You’ve the right of that, Master Widlast,’ Granny returned. ‘Named after the Bellflower by my mother. I was her only girl, you see, and she called me after her favorite flower.’ Granny closed her eyes for a moment recalling her mother’s meandering flower garden and the riot of colorful penstemons planted there.

The elder Hobbit took a swig of the sweetspice tea Rowan had brought round for them. And once done, helped herself to a thick slice of toast and a generous helping of blackberry jam. ‘You sure you won’t have a mug along with me and something a little more substantial than an apple slice?’ She pushed a mug toward him, followed by the basket of toast. ‘Have two, why don’t you,’ she went on. ‘The blackberry jam’s some of the best around. And the honey, I do believe, is some from my own hives. Very tasty, if I do say so myself.’ She munched thoughtfully on her piece of toast.

‘You know,’ Granny said, turning her attention back on Widlast. ‘That’s an interesting coat you’ve got on there. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one like it before. Where’d you get it, if you don’t mind my asking?’

[Ilya]

Full of questions, Widlast mused, looking from the elder to the lass. They were interested, sure, but it seemed innocent enough to be curious of a stranger. Fingering a hole in the lining of his coat, he allowed himself a wry smile. He had not done so well in going unnoticed as he thought, and not for the reasons he thought, either. Yet they were not mistrustful of him. A puzzling people, these holbytlan.

"You ask a great many questions, Mother Pestemon," he said slowly. Off her look, he added, "Cry your pardon, but there's not many folk of the road who do. But I shall answer all as best I can. The apple is not from this region, but was picked outside of the mannish town to the north. Bree, I think." She nodded, and he flicked his eyes down to the mug and the warm liquid quivering at the surface. "I thank you for the offer, but I've no coin for the jam or the tay or the toast. And my coat?" He patted the old leather resting against his thigh and a little dust rose off it. "I found in the lands to the south, beyond the mountains and near to the sea."

Stripped it off a dead pirate is the tale's mark, he thought, hooking his thumb back into the hole, but that tale would not keep in the company of such woman. "There are some fine hive-masters there, too, if I remember aright, though I never much cared for the fare that they honeyed. And your name, mistress?" Widlast turned to the girl. He'd done his part, let them now talk together for a while.

[Undómë]

‘It’s Rowan, Master Widlast,’ the serving lass replied. ‘Sometimes I forget that not every one knows me,’ she laughed. ‘It seems like everyone has passed through the Perch at one time or another.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyways, sorry, I was bad-mannered! I wouldn’t want you to think me rude.’ She grimaced at the thought. Good grief, what would my old Gammer think of me!

‘Ah, well, now that we’ve got that straightened away....’ Rowan topped off Granny’s tea. ‘There’s no coin to be worrying about for the tea and toast and such this morning. You see, our cook’s gone missing, and we’re putting out this little make-do nibble until we can figure out what we can throw....errr, that is put together, for lunch.’ She nodded toward the food and drink. ‘So, help yourself, else whatever bread is leftover goes out to feed the hens....and goodness knows they’re plenty well fed as it is!’

‘I hope you don’t mind me stealing Miz Penstemon away for a while,’ she went on. ‘Prim and I could sure use your help putting some sandwiches together for lunch, Granny.’ She smiled at Widlast as she helped the older Hobbit up and handed her cane to her. ‘I’ll bring your mug and plate, Gran. After you....’

As they neared the door to the kitchen, Rowan bent close to Granny and whispered. ‘Did you hear what he said about his coat, Gran? He said it found it somewhere near to the sea. That’s where the big ships would be, wouldn’t they?’ She gave a quick glance back at the dusty man. ‘Maybe he would know about the little carved ship we found.’

[Strongbow]

Tarden nodded his head once cordially, and rapped on his thigh twice. Meglis got of his haunches, panting slightly, and he sidled up to his master. He nuzzled his master's thigh where he had tapped, and sat down again, waiting on the Man's word. Tarden bent down, and patted the dog affectionately. Meglis had been his companion for a good four or so years (Tarden didn't really know), having been sired in Rivendell from his last dog, Frodda. Frodda was interesting; he never learned to speak Westron, so Tarden was forced to speak the language of Rohan around him. But Meglis was ever more valiant than Frodda, and more loving towards Tarden.

He looked up at the hobbit. Not young anymore, but not old. Certainly middle-aged. He stood nearly three feet above him, and even Meglis was taller than he, but from what Tarden had seen of hobbits, he was about average, and by the cut of his coat, he looked a bit more well off than another hobbit. He set his bulky pack down, stood up, and spoke.

"Well," Tarden stated. "I suppose I should like a Man-sized room. Would you be Mister Boffin?"

[Folwren]

“I am that - Seredic Boffin, at your service,” he bowed slightly - as far as the counter permitted without looking ridiculous. “We do have a room you can take. Prim...that is Rowan...” he looked around, but no one was in sight. “I mean, I’ll show you there myself, sir!”

He bobbed around the counter and came nose to nose with the dog who had walked just beside his master, as he had been commanded. Dick stepped back with surprise before regaining his composure and leading the way.

At the end of the hall, he opened the door and showed the man into one of the man sized rooms. It had three beds in it and a large window at the far end of the room.

“No one else is yet here for the night, so you may have the place to yourself! I hope you find it comfortable. As soon as you’re settled in, you are welcome to come out and find a seat and something to eat. Is there anything further I can do for you?”

[Strongbow]

"Ah," Tarden replied. "Only two things more: first, forgive me for my lack of manners! I am Tarden, son of Taros of Gondor, at your service and your family's!" he said with a bit of pomp, placing his left hand on his breast and bowing low to the hobbit. "And with me is Meglis, son of Frodda, of the Mark. Meglis, speak!" His command was obeyed in earnest, with the dog letting out a bark that boomed through the room and the halls.

"And second, Mister Boffin, I ask that you let me settle in. I shall return to the common room shortly," he said, motioning to Meglis and closing the door behind him. He strode through the room, admiring the craftsmanship and choosing his bed. He set his pack down, and also set to unstringing his bow. The unstrung bow he leaned in the corner, with his sword in its sheath.

Next, he redressed himself, making himself more presentable. His mail coat came off, the rings jingling slightly as he folded it and set it in the bottom of his pack. Without thinking, Tarden's fingers went to his back, and he rubbed one of the purple whip marks that he still bore from his days with the Corsairs. His muscles tensed, and he drew his hand away, replacing a shirt on his person. It was at this moment that Tarden realized that he hadn't truly rested, that is in a bed, in a room, in a house, for at least a fortnight. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking of his boots and rubbing his feet a bit. Meglis sidled up beside the bed and Tarden stroked his massive head.

He laid back on the comfortable pillows, and sleep came over him in the afternoon.

His dreams, the ones he could remember, were queer. He could see a golden light in the distance, and he could remember that the light was calling to him. "Tarden...Tarden..." it called quietly, but clearly. The voice was that of a female. He did not recognize it. The world around him was a dim grey, not very defined by shapes, but it looked as if he were looking above a fire, with the waves of heat and the smoke distorting all he saw. But it wasn't on the environment that his attention was on. It was the light. It was getting closer. And closer. And closer. So much so that he could nearly grab it. It was so bright, so lovely. He reached out a hand and...

Falling.

Tarden woke up with a start, blinking with wild, animal-like suspicion around the room.

[Lilly]

Away from the Inn....but getting nearer

Hugh hummed to himself at times as Jolly plodded along behind Will’s pony, and often, too, quite loudly. He found that it helped him to think if he engaged in some mindless activity. And at the moment, he was humming one the tunes his dear old mum used to sing as she did the family clothes washing.

‘Why that’s it!’ he cried out all of a sudden yanking back sharply on his pony’s reins. ‘You, there, lad!’ he called out to Will, motioning for him to draw near.

‘That letter,’ he said wagging his finger at Will. ‘Now this is going to sound quite mad to you, I’m sure. But it’s the honest truth. That place where it was from....I remember the fellow who gave it to me said the fellow as gave it to him had come up from somewhere as sounded like.....let’s see now – "wash", "washing". No, now that’s not it.’ Hugh scrunched up his face and thought hard. ‘ "Launder"....that’s what he said, or at least something real close to it. “Launder”....’

‘That and he said the fellow told him he’d come up from the end of the river.....’

[Nessa Telrunya]

Nessa's hand fell upon something wooden. She felt around, checking the shape. Apparently it was a fence. There came the sounds of people and horses, but of all the voices, the elf could not make out the one of her travel companion, Rithri. What on Arda could have happened to seperate them? She closed her blind eyes, not wanting to alarm the owners of the surrounding voices, walking down the fence yet not letting go.

Now her hands fell on the wood of walls, and she continued, hoping to find a door. Perhaps the people inside would kindly help her to find Rithri. And if the older elf were not here, hopefully her brother Amras would come looking for her.

Nessa found a door and, taking a deep breath, knocked upon it thrice. She did not know that, instead of a private residence, she had found the Golden Perch Inn.

[Loslote]

Idhreniel walked softly into the Inn. She slipped past an elf making her way in and sat down at the back. She hoped not to stay long, for she still needed to deliver her message to Cirdan. It had grown too dark to travel, however, and she needed a place to stay. This inn would do nicely. She only wished it weren't so crowded.

Idhreniel gathered her courage and walked up to the counter. "Please, sir," she whispered, but she couldn't hear herself over the noise of the inn. She spoke louder. "Sir," she tried again, "could you tell me whether any elves from Rivendell are here?" Idhreniel wondered what was happening at home, and hoped to gather news.

[Folwren]

Dick heard the timid elf’s ‘Sir?’ but when he turned to face her, he could hear little else above the hubbub and noise of the inn. “Laud, miss, you’ll ‘ave to speak louder in these parts,” Dick said, craning his ear upwards. “Try again.”

The poor, self-conscious elf did so, bending down a little towards his ear. “Could you tell me, please, if any elves from Rivendell are here?”

Dick stood down from tip-toes and scratched his head. He looked around the common room. There were elves enough, but were they from Rivendell?

“Mithalwen there is, I think,” Dick said, nodding towards the matronly elf in the corner. “And her niece and Nephew, Cir, are, too. They’re outside still.” He stopped, hearing a rap on the door. “Who would be a-knocking on an inn door, I wonder?” he asked, beginning to walk away to answer it. “Forgive me, I’ll be just a second!”

He came to the door and opened it. When he did, he found himself looking at someone’s belt. He looked up into the face of another elf. Her eyes were shut and one hand held a carved staff.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

[Nessa Telrunya]

Nessa was startled by how far down the voice was coming from. She turned her head in the direction, politely attempting to compose her face.

"Yes, sir, I-er, I am looking for a travel companion of mine, do you happen to know if an elf named Rithri is in the community? And-"

The clamour of voices and eating utensils clinking was a loud music from in front of her, and she knitted brows together.

"And is this a private home? If you do not mind me asking. I do not know what I will do if my companion isn't to be found."

[Loslote]

Idhreniel looked in surprise at the other Rivendell elf. She did not recognize her, which was in itself odd. Also, the name was unfamiliar. What was the point in seeking out a familiar face if it was as strange to you as the others'? Idhreniel thought, and quietly returned to the back of the room.

As she passed the door, she overheard what the innkeeper and the elf were saying. She contemplated offering her assistance to the elf, but decided against it. Instead, she paused and waited a few paces away. If the elf wanted her help, she could ask, and Idhreniel would be happy to help...but she refused to risk asking without need.

[Folwren]

“Why no. This is the Golden Perch, finest inn and ale establishment in the entire Southfarthing! Come in and welcome.” He stood aside and opened the door wider. “Watch your head, there. You elves are little too large for our humble hobbit doors.” He looked up into her face intently. He could tell she was blind, not only from the way she moved, but also from the fact that she kept her eyes shut.

“What was your companion’s name again?”

“Rithri,” she said, turning her face in his direction again.

“Well, I haven’t heard anyone give that name yet, but not everyone tells me their name, neither. Here’s another elf, just come in! She says she’s looking for an elf from Rivendell. Maybe you two could hit it off!

“Hey, Miss!” he said, addressing Loslate who stood near, unsure of what to do with herself. “I’m sure your not this Rithri chap that this lady is looking for, and I doubt she’s quite the elf from Rivendell that you were seeking out, but perhaps you can aid each other in finding who you need.”

[Nessa Telrunya]

Nessa stepped in, stooping to avoid the door, and, sure enough, the presence of a foreign obeject passed unnervingly close to her crown.

She unsteadily spoke, not sure where to direct her voice.

"A fellow elf, is it? Have you recently left Rivendell?"

She strained her ears to be sure the reply would be heard, unknowing of where the reply would come from or what direction she should turn her face.

[Loslote]

"Yes, I have," Idhreniel answered. "I am traveling to Mithlond. My name is Idhreniel. And you?"

She was glad to have a purpose - idling was so uncomfortable - but then, so was meeting new people. Still, the other elf looked nice. "Who are you looking for?" Idhreniel asked. "I may have seen him on my journey here."

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen had not taken any notice at first of the new arrivals - her niece had brought the promised tea and news from the kitchen of the cook's disappearance and subsequent investigations had absorbed her attention. However when she heard her name mentioned she looked up and saw two elfwomen - both were strangers to her, dark haired and of medium height, and clad in green but of diffent hues.

Blessed with the keen ears of all her kindred she could not but help hearing their speech. She heard them name Rivendell - if that was their home it explained why she did not recognise them. Mithalwen knew all who dwellt in her native Mithlond and nearly all of the older inhabitants of Rivendell, either becasue they like her brother had gone there from Lindon after Gilgalad's death or from her visits there. However these visits had been less frequent and shorter in latter days as the world seemed to darken again and she did not know some of the younger folk even by sight. These two were young, in her eyes at least , one perhaps no older than her nephew and niece. The bond between the twins was so strong that they seldom needed other company but the community of Rivendell was not so big that they would be quite ignorant of each other she supposed. And she thought ruefully that the twins bent for mischief had made them quite notorious.

So one was travelling to Mithlond? She was sure that she was not one of the Pilgrims who had escorted the Cirs to Woodhall. And that was another puzzle. She had chosen to stay at the Perch to avoidenduring further discussion of the twins errant behaviour from thier erstwhile travelling companions but it was a little strange for her kindred to choose to stay among mortals when elf halls were but a few miles away. No doubt they had their reasons and she might learn them in time. Her nephew's hopeful voice interrupted her thoughts...

"Aunt Mithalwen, didn't you say something about presents?"

"I did but that can wait a moment or two more - do you know either of the elves who have just come in?".

With a total lack of subtlety the twins turned so that they could see the newcomers.

[Loslote]

Idhreniel noticed a couple of young elves that had joined the older elf. She vaguely recognized them, but could not remember where she had seen them. Touching the other elf's elbow lightly, she walked over to them.

"Hello," Idhreniel said. "I seem to recall seeing you before, but I can't place you...who are you?"

If she did know the two, she would be glad to have the opportunity to discuss business of Rivendell. She missed the easy friendship of home. The loneliness got to her on trips like this one, and she always wished she wasn't so uncomfortable around strangers.

[Mithalwen]

Carantilion

Cir had recognised the speaker but was no more sure of her name than she was of theirs. An elf of rivendell indeed but sufficiently older than the twins for their paths not to have crossed.

Determined to prove to his aunt that he could behave properly, the boy rose to his feet and greeted Idhreniel formally in the manner of their folk before introducing himself.

"I think you know us from Rivendell, my name is Carantilion Laicirith and this is my sister Enpauriel Laicirith but we both get called Cir. Our father Gilthalion is a smith there. This is our aunt, Mithalwen - we are on our way to Mithlond, to stay for a while." Carantilion decided not to explain further for now... if by some miracle their misdeeds were not known to all at Rivendell (which was the impression he had from his father's reproaches) there was no need to mention them.

"Will you join us? - I'm sorry I don't know your name " he enquired, while his aunt and sister smiled in welcome and made room at their little table.

[Loslote]

"Greetings, I am Idhreniel," she said. "I also am traveling to Mithlond - I have a message from Elrond. I would be glad to join you."

She smiled tentatively at the two elven ladies and sat quietly near them. "I have heard of your father, though we've never actually met. My father has spoken with him before. Why are you going to Mithlond?" she asked to make conversation.

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen

"My brother is not a great conversationalist" said Mithalwen reflecting that Gilthalion was capable of making laconicism as much of an art form as he did his smith work . "His wife Enhiriel, you might know she is a bookbinder so is often to be found in the Library - also a great deal more sociable. We are going to Mithlond because I live there - Gilthalion removed to Rivendell after the Last Alliance but I could not live happily long away from the sea. These two are coming to live with me for a while. They journeyed with a group of Pilgrims who are now at the Woodhall where I came to meet them" .

Mithalwen looked carefully at the younger elf woman, to travel alone in these darkening days was noteworthy, especially as a messenger between the great lords of their people. She had travelled widely herself in her youth but that had been in days of peace and hope at the beginning of the age. She deemed that there might be more to this girl than immediately met the eye.

"I will restrain my curiosity as regards your mission, but I am glad your errand is not so urgent that you cannot tarry a while. There has been some problem in the kitchen - the cook has disappeared but I am sure we will be able to find something to eat presently. And my nephew tells me the ale is very fine should you prefer it to tea!"

[Loslote]

"That's odd," Idhreniel murmured. "Where can the cook have gone? Ah, well."

She reached into her bag and pulled out some traveler's bread. "This shall suffice," she said. "Do you need any?" Idhreniel smiled at the twins. "Mithlond is a lovely place. I have been there many times before. I'm sure you'll love it there, though I would not like it there - being near the sea unsettles me." Idhreniel's voice faded as she recalled the reason why. She missed her mother and sister dreadfully. Mithlond brought that grief back vividly, which was one reason why she was in no hurry to arrive.

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen

"Oh no! Put that away, there will be food and I am sure that you are as tired of waybread as these two are after long on the road - I will ask the landlord if we might have a cold collation if a hot meal is out of the question - even bread and cheese will serve with a good bottle of wine.", Mithalwen looked across to see if she could catch the inn keeper's eye . No, she would have to go over in a moment but the younger elf woman's comment had struck a chord.


"I understand I think that you feel like that about Mithlond. I love it and it has been my home for most of my life but .... it is a place many come to only to leave Middle Earth forever. I get restless whenever a ship is to sail. I am not ready to go but now so few remain. At such times I am wont to travel which I have little inclination for in these latter days otherwise. Only these two and their father remain of my near kin in Middle Earth. My father and other brother died in the service of Gilgalad and my mother sailed soon after. Since then many friends have followed". Mithalwen sighed softly then smiled. "Well I shall go and see what food can be had ..I shan't be long" she rose and slipped across to the bar.

The twins waited till they could see their aunt was out of earshot and grinned at Idhreniel. " I am glad you joined us" said the boy. " looks like we might find out some of the family history Ada is so mysterious about".

[Loslote]

Idhreniel smiled vaguely at the twins as she slid the bread back into her pack. Her thoughts drifted into memories of old friends...

She pulled her mind back to her surroundings and smiled, more sincerely this time, and laughed quietly. "Indeed, my Ada rarely speaks of important matters, though we share the same sources." She laughed again. She still had a difficult time focusing on the conversation, as the grief of parting still clung to her heart.

[Folwren]

Dick was moving restlessly by his casks of ale, nervously running a cloth up and down them in the motions of cleaning. His mind was far away, though, trotting after the ponies bearing their riders to search for Cook. What had happened to her? Why had she gone missing? Did she leave by herself, or was she taken by force? If she'd left by herself, why didn't she let anyone know where she was going? Since she didn't let anyone know where she was going, she must've been taken by force! The questions and implications were too numerous for his head, and he had to stop thinking and just rub away at an old scar in the seasoned wood.

"Excuse me, master Innkeeper," said a voice behind him. Dick jumped and turned about. It was just Mithalwen. He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile, instead of his bright, cheerful, new-customer smile that he always had to smile.

"At your service, ma'am," Dick said, whisking the rag out of sight and placing his hands on the bar.

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen

"I beg your pardon, I did not mean to startle you", the elf smiled at the hobbit. "I was wondering if it would be possible to order some food - just some bread and cheese maybe or cold meats and wine for the four of us - I have heard of your trouble - I realise now that that was the reason for the commotion when we arrived - and would not wish put you to difficulty. And when we have eaten perhaps we might be able to help look? I heard a search party has been sent out already but if there is anything we might do ...?" Mithalwen trailed off wondering if there really was... she could spread the word among the travelling companies but would they have anything suspicious in the behaviour of hobbits when so many of them already regarded them as strange folk. But the Innkeeper seemed so agitated she felt she couldn't stand idly by. Sharp senses and swift feet might be of some service.

Carantilion

"What is taking her so long?" wondered the elf boy as he watched his aunt's silver head lowered in conversation with Dick. "Gossiping no doubt ... Mithalwen always wants to know stuff"

"So do you!" countered his twin.

Carantilion grinned "Family trait then! So Idhreniel ...did you travel here all alone?" He was quite impressed by the thought having spent virtually every hour of his life with his twin the idea of being alone so long was almost unimaginable.

[Loslote]

"Yes, I did," Idhreniel said. "I used to travel with my sister, but she has left for Valinor now, and I never asked for another partner." She laughed softly. "Perhaps not the wisest move. But I imagine you two will never face that choice."

Idhreniel looked to the front of the room, where Mithalwen was talking seriously to the bartender. "I hope nothing's wrong," she said. "Why do they look so grim?"

[Folwren]

Dick looked hopeless. "If you think you can find anyway to help, then by all means do so," he said, spreading his hands wide. He sighed, slumping visibly.

"Food," he said then, bringing himself to attention slowly. "Food! Of course!" He was the lively innkeeper again suddenly. "I'm [i]so]/i] sorry. I should have thought of that myself. Rowan! Rowan, by heaven, where do the girls get to when you need them? Ro - oh, there you are. Is there something hot in the kitchen?"

"Yes, we've got some bread just fresh out of the oven along with a new baked pie, and we've got steaks we can put on the grill as soon as -"

"There, you see," Dick said, turning to Mithalwen. "Make your order and they'll fix you up admireably. After a good lunch, I'm sure you all will be able to think of a way to help us find our cook."

[Mithalwen]

But I imagine you two will never face that choice

Carantilion shivered and glanced at his twin. They might argue and he might at times resent the authority she assumed by virtue of her few minutes longer of life but he could not imagine of a life long separated from his sister. They had seldom been separated by more than a few miles or hours so to be divided by the sundering sea forever was inconceivable.

"I hope not. Or not for ages. My father says he will not think of going while Elrond remains and my mother would not go without him. Besides he reckons Aman is not ready for us" he added remembering ruefully how his father had laughed long but somewhat mirthlessly at the idea of his children in Eressea.

He looked then across to where his aunt was now speaking to Rowan and then to the inkeeper who was opening a bottle of wine which he placed on a tray with four goblets which he passed to the elfwoman once she had finished ordering the meal.

" They do look serious - but look she is on her way back now. We will soon find out ".