The Golden Perch Inn

[Noinkling]

Skirvir nodded thoughtfully at Seren as she asked her questions. ‘Good questions!’ he assured her as he stroked the sides of his chin where his beard grew thick. ‘And you know, I think I’ll end the tale here with the answering of them.’

He leaned forward a little on the step, easing out his left leg where he’d bent it beneath him as he first sat down. His toes had gone to sleep and he wriggled them about in his boot trying to bring some feeling back into them. ‘Let’s see – we Dwarves did move back beneath the Lonely Mountain. Cleared the passageways of dragon filth and put the gold and gems and such into storage rooms. And Mister Baggins – well he fared well enough. One of the best paid burglars we Dwarves have had the pleasure to work with. Deserved every bit of his portion.’ He cocked his head to one side, thinking. ‘It would be interesting, don’t you think to have Mister Baggins here where we could let him tell us the rest of the story? How he fared getting back to Bag End and what adventures he had along the way. I’m afraid I only know a wee bit of it.....just what I’ve passed on to you.

Skirvir reached out for his little carving of Smaug and scooped him up along with the small pile of gold coins that had played the treasure. He stood up, shoving the coins into one pocket and the carving into another.

‘I think I see someone’s mother waiting for them,’ he said, looking toward Dorlind and Daisy. ‘And you two,’ he went on turning his gaze to Taffy and Seren. ‘Best I not keep you out too late, else your mami says no more stories for the both of you.’

He watched as the children headed toward the door of the inn, waving as they turned back to wave to him. From the corner of his eye, Skirvir saw the Elf rise up from his seat on the ground in a graceful, effortless motion. He paid him no more mind than this, and turned to follow after the children.

[Lilly]

‘Taffy, Seren! There you are now!’ Lila Sandybanks gathered her children to her with hugs as they came running in from outdoors. ‘Was it a good story?’ she asked them, smiling as they nodded their heads fiercely and vied with each other for space to make their opinions known. She listened to each, nodding her head at the appropriate times, and giving the occasional ‘Oh my!’ at the most exciting parts.

Seren had begun to yawn by the end of her recounting, though Taffy still looked wide awake. ‘Come help me get your sister to bed,’ his mother told him. ‘Bring along that little glass of warmed milk for her, won’t you?’ she said, pointing toward the little tray Rowan had left for her. At a frown of protest from Seren, Lila shook her head ‘no’; it was the girl’s bedtime. And ‘yes’ there was a spoonful of honey and just a drop of vanilla to make the sleepytime drink bring sweet dreams. It was not long before Seren had gone off to sleep, mid-grumble about how unfair it was that she had to go to bed just because she was five years old.

Taffy returned to the common room with his mother. She’d told him there was to be music tonight. And older lad that he was now, he could stay up for a bit to listen. He beamed with a certain pride at this allowance......and stifled a yawn that was trying to work its way to his mouth.

[Tam Lin]

Tavaro stamped the dirt from his boots and shook his cloak a bit, encouraging the dust from his travels to find another resting place. The others having gone in, he stood for a moment at the closed door of the inn, debating once again whether he would rather spend the night in the open, beneath the starred sky or enter the confines of the Perch.

His left hand came up, making the decision for him it seemed, and pushed open the door. A rush of warm air, flickering light, and the smells of wood smoke commingled with those of pipeweed and food washed over and around him. Voices rose and fell amidst the clink of mugs against each other, laughter wove about them. And it was a merry sound, he thought, inviting. His boots followed the entry of his staff as it tapped lightly on the wooden floor of the entryway.

Spying a small out of the way table where he could observe the goings on in the room, Tavaro made his way toward it, slipping gracefully among the other, more crowded tables. An accommodating server took his order – hot tea and honey and a bowl of that enticing stew if there were any left.

There, nearer the fire was the Dwarf he’d heard tell the tale of Smaug. With several other of his kin....and two young Elves. And just coming back into the room was the boy he’d sat next to. As he waited for his food and drink, he drew out one of his small books and a piece of hardened charcoal wrapped on one end in a scrap of cloth. He looked closely toward the table of Dwarves and began to sketch them.

[Folwren]

Dick had scarcely put his head in at the door before the stranger turned his eyes towards him. A short pause followed and then the man smiled. Dick returned it and came in.

Colren looked peaceful where he lay. He was not afraid, and he had a friendly look in his face. Dick felt he liked him almost at once. The trusting sort of people were always easy to get along with.

“Good evening, sir!” Dick said in a quiet voice. “You had quite a tumble walking into the common room, I must say.” He smiled broadly as he came by the bedside. “How do you feel now? Do you think you could eat something?”

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan excused himself from his companions saying he would be back in a moment. An old friend, he went on. And one not seen in a long time. He walked quietly up behind the fellow at the small table and peeked over the man’s shoulder at the sketch he was making.

His eyes flicked to the subject of the drawing – the Dwarf with the reddish hair. The artist had caught him well – big, full of life, with a certain fire scarce banked within.

The Ranger was just about to speak, when the Elf paused in his sketching and spoke first.

[Volo]

Colren was really pleased, about the "Think you could eat?"-part. He was indeed confused, as hard as he tried, he couldn't remember anything about tumbling, or for the matter anything else. Who am I anyway? Time to find out! This hobbit must know.

"Thank you, it would be nice, I was just wandering about food." Oh no! I won't be able to pay for it, by the look of me, I haven't got any money... "I mean, I would appreciate, if I could work for my food. I don't have money." Shouldn't have said that... This hobbit might know more than I do. Well, what is said is said... But I not a friend of a hobbit am I? I can't remember him anyway... Colren stood up and embarrassedly asked: "Excuse me, but how were you called again, sir? And what do you mean by tumbling?"

[Tam Lin]

‘Come! Have a seat, O cumbrous of foot and ponderous of breath!’ Tavaro turned round in his seat and looked his old friend up and down, laughter glinting in his eyes. He put down his charcoal and held up the small sketch he’d been working on. ‘Not too bad a likeness, eh?’ Closing the chapbook, he shifted it to one side, the piece of charcoal resting on the battered cover.

‘What a delight to see you here!’ the Elf continued, watching as Hithadan lowered himself into the seat across the small table. Tavaro’s eyes did a quick circuit of the firelit room. ‘Tell me,’ he said in a low voice, his gaze now back on the man. ‘Are you here merely to slake thirst and fill belly? Or have you your keen gaze set on something or someone?’

[Folwren]

Dick stuck his hands into his pockets as Colren admitted to being hungry. He was glad when a fellow was honest about it. And the poor chap was worried about not being able to pay! Dick shook his head as Colren continued.

"Excuse me, but how were you called again, sir? And what do you mean by tumbling?" the man asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

“I’m Seredic Boffin, at your service,” Dick replied. “Mostly called Dick, though.” He cocked his head to one side and his bright eyes studied the tall, thin figure of the man. “Don’t remember your entrance, hey? Well, now, I’m right glad you happened to come into my door just before falling as you did. Aye, you fell right enough.” He nodded his head. “Came in, plopped down a coin on top the counter, called for ale, and then went out like a candle.

“That coin you paid, too, that’ll be enough for your dinner and a night here and maybe more. Depends on just what you need.” He looked up briefly at the man’s face. “Do you want me to bring you something here, or would you like to come out to the great room? We’ve got some elves and dwarves preparing a few songs for our entertainment. You might enjoy that. And you might find someone to talk to. Won’t you come out?”

[Volo]

Relieved that he guessed most of his words right, he still made a mistake, after all Colren seemed to have money. He was also starting to guess where he was, at least he now knew that this was an inn of some kind. Nice guy, this Dick. For his kindness I have to at least present myself. Ah, can't even remember my name... this tumble, I fainted. That must be the reason for this confusion. But so far all has been fine, I'll just continue like this.

"Master Seredic, nice to meet you! I go by the name..." It must be, "Krohn", I remember I've heared this many times, it's my name! "...Kro..." No, wait, it can't be, I feel that this name is lost... dead. No no no, what is going on. I'm called... "Ne", no. "Nor", yes... wait. No! "Na"? "Naren"? Yes, this is it! What's the difference anyway, I shall be called "Naren", nobody will care if I'm not really "Naren". "...Naren. As for my collapse, I'm quite fine now. I'll come to the hall, I would enjoy music over anything, exept food!"

Colren, or Naren as he now thought of himself, followed Dick to the door but then remembered. "Excuse me, I'll just arrange my belongings and tidy myself somehow. It won't take long." Dick nodded and left the room. "Thank you!" shouted Naren.

Now, some time to see more about my past. Colren sat down on the bed and took out his pouch. It was made of strong leather and by the wait and size did contain something interesting. Hmm... Surelly this can't belong to the same man who is in clothes as ragged as mine. He slowly opened the pouch with his eyes closed... As Colren opened his eyes, he dropped the pouch with and let a shout of astonishment.

His pouch was full of gold! Golden coins! By the look of them, the coins were from Gondor. But that was not all Colren's pouch contained. There were neatly put letters. Colren took the first one, an old and weathered letter and opened it. He read it once, then again, and again. A tear came down his cheak...

The letter was dated III 2937. And written by a woman called Elisi, just a typical love-letter: lots of promises and complaining how evil parents are. But of course to Colren, who still didn't know his real name, for the letter was adressed to "My Love", this meant much. He remembered something, Elisis eyes. He lived with her after her father died. Anything else Colren couldn't understand yet. He also desided to read the rest later.

Colren hid his pouch and exited the room, to confirm the house to be an inn. He walked to the door looking around and examening the smallest details, Colren literaly bumped into a younger but stouter hobbit, smelling of fish. The two fell on the floor. Colren was the first one to recover. He helped the hobbit to his feet and said "I'm terribly sorry. I was lost in my thoughts. Hope you aren't hurt." But the hobbit didn't look hurt, rather suprised. "Oh, my name is Naren." Colren added with a smile.

[Tevildo]

Tollers brushed himself off and extended a hand of welcome to the newcomer. "No bother. No bother at all, Naren . I am pleased to meet you and that your earlier tumble was nothing serious. Lucky thing I wasn't carrying any plates or flagons this time. But don't worry. This mishap was entirely my fault. I'm afraid I was lollygaggling as usual." To tell the truth, the hobbit had been ruminating on his coin and how he might find out about the room the dwarves would be occupying, wondering if he should try to ask Master Dick or do some discreet sleuthing on his own.

Masking his embarrasment, Tollers smoothed out the front of his vest, his fingers instinctively slipping inside the inner pocket to make sure that his treasured coin still rested within its hiding place. To his acute distress, the hobbit discovered his pocket was empty. A look of alarm spread instantly over Toller's face.

"Oh, dear, dear, I seem to have dropped something.....something important," he mumbled to Naren. "You go over by the bar and make yourself at home. Someone will serve you in a minute. You're not from these parts, I think, but the folk around here are quite friendly. I'll join you in just a minute. That is...unless you'd like to help me look. You see, I've lost a coin, a special coin, and must find it immediately."

With that Tollers plopped down on all fours and began crawling about the floor, nosing under tables and chairs to see if his precious gold piece was anywhere nearby. Once or twice, he managed to bump into the feet of some of the guests and apologized for his clumsiness. A number of the customers looked at him in a rather odd way. Tollers wished that someone could help him, although he was afraid that whoever picked up the coin would ask too many tricky questions for him to answer truthfully. Meanwhile, in the background, the hobbit could hear the strains of a lively tune that any lad or lass would find perfectly delightful for dancing.

[Volo]

So, this hobbit also knows me. But not well, that is good. Colren was looking as the poor hobbit started crawling on the floor. And I thought I had no money... How can a coin be so important? Coins are just cold metal. And for some reason I don't feel easy with metal around... After all Colren couldn't just stand there watching the hobbit being kicked by careless feet. He began crouching himself and looking for the peace of metal. I might not like coins because I have lots of them myself, suprisingly.

After a long and pointless search Colren crawled up to his new acquaintance and asked "I'm sorry that you lost your coin, it was really my mistake, for that I have to help. But it would be helpfull if you could describe this coin somehow... Or I could just replace it, people have to pay for their mistakes and that I will do. If you wish." Colren was rather frustrated and really wished that the hobbit would accept Colren's Gondorian coin instead of searching for his own "precious" coin. Also Colren was getting really hungry, of course he tried his best not to show his feelings. Also the music was tempting Colren leave the hobbit to his problems. What am I thinking? This lad needs help, so I'd better help if nobody else wants to. And this is partly my fault. At that Colren smiled a bitter smile.

[Folwren]

Now what was this?

Dick stood in the doorway leading into the Big People’s wing of the house. His arms were folded as he watched Naren and Tollers crawl about the floor on their hands and knees. He chuckled as Tollers emerged from a near by table, red in the face and apologetic for the sixth time as he explained to one of the customers what was going on.

As funny as it seemed, however, Dick knew it wasn’t good business to be bumping into people while they tried to talk. He walked forward to intercept Tollers’ searching and to ask what it was all about. As he drew near, he saw Naren stop near the hobbit and sit up.

“I’m sorry that you lost your coin,” the man said, “it was really my mistake, for that I have to help. But it would be helpful if you could describe this coin somehow…or I could just replace it. People have to pay for their mistakes and I will do that, if you wish.”

Dick stopped a few paces away, wondering. A coin? Where had Tollers acquired a coin? And why was it causing him to crawl over every foot of the common room to search for it? He looked towards Tollers, wondering what his answer to Naren would be.

[Tevildo]

Tollers glanced back over his shoulder at Colren and warily shook his head. Although the hobbit's words were exceedingly polite, the dour look that was spread over his face underlined just how upset he was over the loss of his dear coin, "Oh, no. You're very kind indeed, but I'm afraid this coin can't be easily replaced. You see, it's special. It's very old and has a picture of a dwarf axe on one side."

Tollers hastily bit his tongue and stopped himself from saying anything more. It would not do to give out more information. His friend Jack had told him to be quiet about their find until they could go back and look again. Still, the hobbit knew his precious had to be somewhere nearby. He distinctly remembered hearing something clink and roll away when he'd first taken his tumble.

"I just need to look harder," Tollers muttered to himself. With that, he put his nose to the ground and, like a hound on the trail, redoubled his efforts to locate his missing "precious".

[Forest Elf]

Gable thought she'd head over and talk to Cir and Cir again. She had only walked a few paces when she saw Toller's crawling about, looking for something. Then, to her left a bit, she saw something shiny. She walked over and leaned down, it was a gold coin, with a hammer on one side.

Gable walked over to Tollers, who was still crawling around; and asked holding the gold coin out, "Excuse me, Tollers, but did you loose a gold coin?"

[Tevildo]

Tollers looked up at the Elf and sheepishly nodded. His pants were covered with dustballs, and he had tripped over the feet of at least half a dozen guests. After wiping his dirty palms on the shoulders of his vest, he held out his hand to the Elf and grinned, "Errr...that does seem to be my coin. Thank you. Thank you so much for finding it. I really don't know what I would have done if I had permanently lost it."

This time, Tollers tucked the gold coin securely in the small leather pouch that he wore about his waist. He was still feeling a little nervous about the Elf. He had never seen or talked with such a graceful creature until he'd come to work at the Inn. Some of the staff seemed so free and easy about the Elves, but Tollers always felt as if he had two left feet or perhaps an extra ear stuck to his head whenever he found himself confronting one of the fair ones face-to-face. Still, it would not do to be unfriendly. Master Dick had given Tollers more than one friendly lecture on how he must make an effort to show interest in the guests, even those who might look a little strange on the outside.

Stumbling over his words, Tollers managed to stammer out an invitation, "Looks like the dinner business is slacking off. I'm going to get a little supper. Care to join me? Perhaps listen to the music? And, you too....." He glanced over quizzically at the tall fellow who'd banged into him and wondered if he'd accept an invitation to eat. "You know, I'm just a simple farm lad, but I bet you two both have some wild stories to tell."

For the moment at least, Tollers forgot about the coin and the fact that he wanted to speak with one of the Dwarves later that night.

[Lilly]

Taffy works up the courage to speak to Cir and Cir


Taffy grew restless on the hard wooden chair; no amount of wriggling could make it any more comfortable. His mother and father were busy discussing the next day’s business – lucky for him, really, since their attention was turned away from him. He hopped down from his seat as quietly as he could and made his way toward the table where the Dwarves were sitting.

On his way, he saw a curious sight. A hobbit crawling about on hands and knees looking for something. He had been joined by one of the Big Folk. And even with his help, it seemed that luck eluded the Hobbit. But there was one of the Fair Folk, a pretty lady. Her sharp eyes had found the little trinket and handed it back to the Hobbit. Taffy smiled and nodded his head. He liked things to turn out well.

A glance back at the Dwarves’ table put him back on his little mission. He crept closer, stopping a little ways away. He didn’t want to bother the Dwarves and their company – two Elves. He just wanted to see what interesting things they were doing.

Two of them had flutes, while another seemed to be clearing his throat and humming. Oh! I’ll bet he’s going to sing! Taffy thought to himself. Skirvir did not seem that much into the festivities. Perhaps he was just resting after the grand story he’d told earlier. The Elves, too, had their instruments. Now Taffy had heard that the Fair Folk had wonderful voices. And when they sang it was as if the wind sang through the trees.

Unable to resist, the boy stepped up to the table and looked up at the Elves. The back of his neck grew hot and he could feel a flush creeping up to his cheeks.

‘Pardon me,’ he said, his voice a little croaky as his mouth had suddenly become quite dry. He fixed his eyes on the fair faces of the Elves. ‘Are you going to sing some Elvish songs for us?’

[Valesse]

More than a bit exhausted from her travels, Valesseka had stumbled into a little establishment with curiously short beings running around in it. Completely uncertain to what they were, she was at first careful to not inspect one too closely. That was, however, until she caught scent of some savory smell waffing down from the air. Certainly this community of small beings must be excellent chefs, and Valesseka was not one to miss a good meal.

She found the Golden Perch Inn easily, but finding the door took a far greater amount of time. Who had ever heard of a round door? A round green door at that! Double checking to make sure that she was, indeed, about the enter the inn and not some curious halfling's house Valesseka ducked her way inside. Here there were many tiny folk. Several more than she had seen outside, for sure, and that excited her. When she straightened out again from navigating through the doorway, the Arnorian took in more of the commonroom. to her right the counter and before her a large fireplace which paled in comparison to the warm atmosphere the room was given by the clients.

Simply put, Valesseka felt very much at home here. Perhaps so much so that she would prefer to stay a night or two to regain her energy to head along once more toward home. Forgetting the counter for now, Valesseka sat down in a very inviting looking chair before surveying the room once more.

[Volo]

When the hobbit said "Oh, no. You're very kind indeed, but I'm afraid this coin can't be easily replaced. You see, it's special. It's very old and has a picture of a dwarf axe on one side", Colren became sad. Not understanding why, but guessing that it was some hidden memory. What do I have against coins... or dwarves? Coins are just coins and dwarves... well, they are just dwarves, no reason to dislike them. Still Colren didn't like the idea of this.

An elf came and gave the hobbit, Tollers his coin. That is that. Now, without any more messing, to eat! Though, this elf woman... Colren couldn't place an elf into his life, but he didn't feel too happy about them either. Neither elves seemed mysterious Hobbits on the other side, they are really nice. Live a happy life, what else could anyone want. He did feel that he would talk much more with the strangers in the inn.

As Colren was brushing his clothes clean and watching somewhere into the corner, Tollers managed to say something about supper, music and joining him. Corlen turned and looked Tollers into his eyes. The hobbit continued "You know, I'm just a simple farm lad, but I bet you two both have some wild stories to tell." "A simple farm lad" doesn't sound so bad. But how can I know, doubt that I would be a good farmer... I'd be happy to chat with Tollers, but the elf... Oh, I'll try... "Wild stories", I can't really be telling those, I know less wild stories than any hobbit. At the moment. The elf can do the storytelling! Colren smiled again. "It would be an honor to eat with you two. If it's fine with you, let's sit in a corner." Colren turned to the elf, "I am Naren. Rarelly meet so easygoing elves..." Huh? Why did I say that? Aargh, this hidden memory makes me mad! I might not even want to know the answer to all this. Why can't I just live peacefully? Colren's smile wasn't real anymore.

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan sat back in his chair, his hand going up to rub the back of his neck. ‘Ah, well, I did have someone I thought would need keeping watch on. A shady looking fellow I had my eye on before he came to the inn. He looked a ruffian or near enough one that I wanted to make sure he didn’t bother the good folks hereabouts.’

He took a swallow of the tea Tavaro had poured for him and watched as the Elf continued to sketch. ‘What about you? What business brings you here?’

[Mithalwen]

Cir had taken the harp for himself. He could play flutes and the like well enough but stringed instruments seemed to have more individual personalities, of course it would not provide the same excuse not to sing. He touched its strings, it was small and horribly out of tune but he could soon fix that at least and it seemed sweet voiced enough. His slender hands had turned the pegs gently trying each note gently so as not to disturb the company until they started properly. His ears were able to distiguish the harp's notes at a level almost inaudible to mortals and he finished with a pianisimmo glissando.

He was ready to begin, when a voice sounded tentatively at his side ‘Pardon me are you going to sing some Elvish songs for us?’.

Carantilion looked at Taffy, mesmerised a little by the hobbit child, "Well we thought we would mainly sing things that everyone might know and tunes for dancing" but seeing the child's face drop in disappointment he added " but we will sing some Elvish songs if you want us to but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that?".

[Valesse]

Valesseka frowned to herself. There was a pair of elves not far from her, accompanied with an even smaller version of the short beings which filled this place, and though she could clearly hear Taffy and Carantilion speaking to one another, she could not hear a single note the other elf had played on his harp.

Trying not to be obvious about it, the Arnorian leaned in toward the trio. It had been a while since she had heard any decent music. There was very little to sing about on the road she had just travelled, and for most of the journey she lacked the spirit to consider it.

Suddenly noticing her thirst she abandoned her post and slid toward the counter and waited semi-patiently for a working to catch sight of her. Hopefully it wouldn't be a long wait. The elves looked about ready to preform and Valesseka did not want to miss a moment of it.

[Lilly]

. . . but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that?

Taffy found the Elf’s voice quite bewitching, and he could not feature at first how such a lovely voice could deliver unhappy sounds. He craned his head to the right and looked up at the fair face. As lovely as the fellow’s voice was, the Elf’s features were even more delightful.

Except his eyes…

They were grey; the sort of grey as hovered over the river and the lakes near Taffy’s home. A sad sort of grey that for a moment made the young Hobbit feel as if he were in the presence of something very, very old.

The boy looked away. Sad or not, though, the words and tunes might be, Taffy thought, he had a longing to hear them.

‘Well, my Granpa sings sad songs, too, sometimes. Especially when the little forest near us turns from fall towards winter and the river gets a little crust of ice along its banks. We have a nice little fire in the fireplace and tell stories and Granpa gets down his little fiddle and sings . . . songs about things he remembers from way back.’

Taffy stepped back from Cir a ways, so that he could see the Elf without craning his neck. ‘Here’s one my Granpa sings and we all get real quiet when he does. He makes it sound so sad with his voice and his fiddle.’

He stood tall, as his Granpa said he should when he sang, and clasped his hand behind his back. The first few notes were hesitant as he tried to recall the tune, then his little boy’s voice rang out soft and pure.

Oh! Calm was the lake of Coolfin on that day,
When o'er its wide waters we glided along,
No cloud in the heavens o'er shadow'd our way,
And light hearted laughter was join'd in our song.

The wild winds of Winter now sweep o'er the lake,
The snowdrift lies deep on its desolate shore,
The roll of the thunder its echoes awake,
And summer time smiles on its bosom no more.

As bright is the sunshine of youth's early day,
As gay are the pleasures our life may begin;
In this world below they must soon pass away,
And be overcast as the lake of Coolfin....

The last note faded away and he looked expectantly toward the Elf.

‘Well, there you go. One of my Granpa’s sad songs. Your turn…’

[piosenniel]

Tanni leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand, her arm resting on the smooth top of the table. So wrapt in the song and the lad’s voice, she was unaware that her elbow rested in a small puddle of water earlier spilled from her mug.

‘Well done!’ she cried out, clapping her hands in delight as he finished his song. ‘Lovely, wasn’t it?’ she asked turning to Rhys.

He was silently fingering the tune on his fiddle, fixing the melody in such manner in his mind for later play. ‘We should ask him to go over the words with us later,’ Rhys replied. ‘Tis a lovely tune.’ He picked up his bow and put it to the strings. ‘Let’s do this one, eh?’ he he said nodding at Tanni.

She stood at his side and spoke loud enough to be heard above the clatter of mug and cutlery and the conversation. ‘Since it’s a sad song this lad has sung, my brother and I would like to add another. That is, if you don't mind. One we heard in our travels . . . one from along a lonely, rock strewn strand on the Great Sea . . .

~*~

By the storm-torn shoreline, a woman is standing,
The spray strung like jewels in her hair;
And the sea tore the rocks near that desolate landing,
As though it had known she stood there.

For she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

Oh, and white were the wave caps and wild was their parting,
So fierce is the warring of love;
But she prayed to the gods, both of men and of sailors,
Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love.

Now she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

There's a school on the hill where the sons of dead fathers,
Are led toward tempests and gales;
Where their God-given wings are clipped close to their bodies,
And their eyes are bound 'round with ship's sails.

And she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

What force leads a man to a life filled with danger,
High on seas or a mile underground?
It's when need is his master and poverty's no stranger,
And there's no other work to be found.

But she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

[Tam Lin]

‘What about you?’ Hithadan asked. ‘What business brings you here?’ The man looked at him expectantly.

‘Shhhh!’ Tavaro put his finger to his lips and raised and eyebrow at his friend. ‘She has a lovely voice, don’t you think so?’ He steepled his fingers and rested his chin lightly on them. ‘It is an altogether different sort of sadness that the Secondborn bear, or so I think,’ he murmured, listening to melody as it underwove the singer’s words. ‘We Firstborn cannot know it, long as we might for the World as it once was.’ He gave his companion the briefest of half smiles. ‘There is no taste of death for us. We do not pass away from this world. The world passes away from us; fades . . .’

His gaze slid from the woman to the small boy. ‘Elven songs are lovely, I’ll give you that. But those of Men are bittersweet. And of late I find them much to my liking.’

Tavaro nodded to the woman and man as they finished their song. ‘I hope they will sing another. Do you think they might?’

[Arry]

Once the last song had ended, Will stood up from his table and excused himself from Prim. ‘I’ll just be a moment. I need to see Miz Cela about a little more willowbark tea. My hand is starting to hurt something fierce.’ He grinned at his companion. ‘Better make room for a mugful yourself. You know Cook will be wanting to give you a dose, too.’

--o--

‘Miz Cela?’ Will asked, poking his head through the kitchen door. ‘Are you there?’ The lights were turned low in the kitchen; the supper rush over. ‘It’s me - Will,’ he went on, stepping into the room.

[Mithalwen]

Carantilion was about to renege on his vow not to sing when Tanni and Rhys struck up their own song. Cir was fair minded enough to acknowledge they played and sang well enough but his finely formed aquiline nose was slightly put out of joint. If the mortals did not refrain from sad songs why should he and while Tanni and her brother received the applause of the gathering he hissed at his own sibling that they better do something before Dick decided they weren't worth their keep.

He touched the harp strings again and though it was a smaller and more rustic instrument than he was used to its chords now reverberated in the common room and pride overcame Carantilion's doubts about his voice in it's adult register. Its tenor suited the plangent melody perfectly and his accompaniment was swelled by harmonies provided by his sister.

O Gil-galad i Edhelchír
dim linnar i thelegain:
Im Belegaer a Hithaeglir
Aran ardh vethed vain a lain.

Gariel maegech Gil-galad,
Thôl palan-gennen, ann-vegil;
A giliath arnoediad
Tann thann dîn be genedril.

Dan io-anann os si gwannant
A mas, ú-bedir ithronath;
An gîl dîn na-dúath di-dhant,
vi Mordor, ennas caeda gwath

Translated by Ryszard Derdzinski

[Forest Elf]

"That sounds good, and you know me, I've always been on my own crazy adventures, though, some only in my head." Gable replied, scratching her head.

"Though, I should probably change out of my boy's clothes. I'll meet you two over there." Gable added, and headed up the stairs.

[Folwren]

Dick felt rather curious about Tollers’ coin, but he had no chance to question him about it. Gable had come near and offered it to him and Tollers and Colren had stood up. A few words passed and Tollers and Colren walked off with each other while Gable hurried quickly from the room. Dick shrugged and decided to leave him without questioning until later, at least.

“I wonder if that’s why he wanted to know where the dwarves were going to sleep tonight,” he murmured to himself as he walked through the common room. “A coin with a dwarven axe on it. . .very old, he said. I wonder where he got it?” He ‘hmmed’ to himself as he cast a quick eye over everyone to make sure nothing was needed.

He only half listened to the songs being sung as he walked quietly about, his mind drifting from one duty to the next and considering the happenings of the day. It had been a very long day. . .Dick welcomed these calmer, more thoughtful songs, melancholy and sad though they were. When Cir and Cir had first asked him if they could play for their keep, he had thought dancing and such, but now, the singing of old songs seemed more fit.

He stopped his progress when he heard the elvish song start. The music accompanying the two voices was more sad than the other two and though Dick didn’t understand the words, the language of the harp and the voices touched and pulled at his heart.

The last notes faded and a silence filled the room momentarily. Dick finally drew a great sigh and turned his eyes away from the performers. His once more glanced around and to his surprise, saw a young woman at the counter. She leaned on it slightly and her eyes, too, were fixed on the singers. Dick hurried forward and went around the counter just as talk was beginning again around the room.

“I’m so sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Can I help you?”

[Envinyatar]

The fair voice of the male Elf was clear and bright in the smoke filled room. And that of his sister wove in and about the lament in a lovely harmony. Hithadan’s gaze swept round the room, gauging the crowd’s reaction. Not many, indeed hardly any of those gathered, would understand what the song was about. But he could read in their faces their appreciation of the great sorrow which lay behind the words.

‘Now tell me Gil-galad’s fate was not sung most sorrowfully and most fair,’ he spoke low to Tavaro. ‘Surely the songs of the lad and of Mistress Tanwen are tinged with sorrow. But that of the Elves just sung is marrow-deep sorrow itself.’

[Volo]

While the elf went to change. Colren and Tollers walked into the corner of the inn and sat down. Colren ordered some basic (but not by Naren-standards) food and beer for the three. I have money. Big money. It mightn't be such a good idea to use them rather openly, but I'm starving. Only, the origin of all this gold is strange...

"Tollers, so you got your coin back and all's well. But I would like to know more about the people here, while our companion is away, I would appriciate if you could tell me."

[Noinkling]

When Taffy had begun to sing, Skirvir had nodded at Bívor, miming as he did so that he pick up his flute. The two Dwarves played very softly, letting the boy’s words be to the fore while their little harmonies gently ran beneath it.

For the woman’s song, it was Skirvir who played along with the man’s fiddle. He had ventured once with his father and a small group of his father’s companions down to the Sea of Rhun. It was the largest body of water the young Dwarf had ever seen. And though now he knew the Great Sea was ten times ten time ten bigger, still the daunting majesty of that smaller sea stayed with him. And when he recalled stories from the older Dwarves of that great water that hemmed in the lands of their world, he was in awe of the fact that men would venture out upon it for any reason.

As the Elves began to play, Bívor once again raised his flute to his lips. But his brother, Bávor, waved him to silence as the first clear notes left Cir’s lips.

‘Now, that was a lovely song, was it not? I can’t say as I understood any of it. But someone much beloved must have died; someone held very dear,’ Bávor said.

Bívor cocked his head at Skirvir. His cousin’s hands were clasped about his ale mug, his eyes peering into it as if were a bottomless well. ‘Now you can’t say that wasn’t as fair a song as you have heard,’ Bívor said, nudging his cousin from his woolgathering.

For his part, Skirvir looked up, meeting Bívor’s gaze. ‘Oh, aye….it was fair, in it’s own way. Bit on the gloomy side. But fair enough, I’ll reckon it.’

Bávor laughed, and topped off his cousin’s mug, as well as his own and his brother’s. ‘A rare compliment from a Dwarf to an Elf!’ In broad gestures he mimed writing on the palm of his hand. ‘I shall have to put this day down in my journal of our trip and mark it with a star, I think.’

Skirvir raised his bushy brows and grumbled something at Bávor. Then shrugged his shoulders grudgingly and drank down half his mug.

[Lilly]

There had not been much sorrow passed through Taffy’s life. His brief eleven years had so far been happy ones. And the song he’d sung, the one he’d learned from his granpa, was only sad to because it made his granpa sad. His granpa's wrinkly face would settle into deeper furrows, and his eyes grow misty when he sang it.

He’d asked his granpa once what it was that made him so sad. The old man had shook his head, swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and then mustered a smile at Taffy. ‘No need to be worrying over your old granpa’s weepy ways, my boy. When you get as old as I am sometimes you remember some things that happened long ago, not all of them sad in them selves, mind you. Sometimes they’re just good things that happened or good people that came into your life and now are gone forever.’ He’d ruffled Taffy’s hair and given him a firmer smile, the boy remembered. ‘Right now you’re just making those memories. Life is good and happy, and that’s the way it should be for you.’

Taffy looked at his parents. They sat very quiet at the end of the Elf’s song. His mother had that glisten in his eye and his father bore a sort of faraway and thoughtful look. This was to be expected he reasoned, them being so much older than he.

Now Taffy did feel a certain sort of sadness from the Elves’ song, enhanced somewhat by his parents’ apparent sorrowful demeanor. He wondered, though, that someone as young as Cir appeared could sing something so sad.

‘Pardon me,’ he said, drawing near to where the Elves stood. ‘I liked that very much. It was really pretty. And seemed very sad, just like you said.’ He made a wry face, his mouth in a small moue. ‘But what was it you were so sad about? Did you lose someone in your family. Or a friend?’

[Tam Lin]

‘But that’s just it, isn’t it,’ Tavaro replied to Hithadan. His eyes were on the young Halfling as the boy spoke to the Elves. ‘His song and that of the man and woman were tinged with sorrow; the sadness bleeding into the joy of being alive. It seems to me that the sorrow of men is enfolded somehow by hope and the simple thankfulness of being alive.’ He smiled softly, turning from the tableau of the boy and Elves back to his friend.

‘That hope, that subtle joy – it makes me glad that the One conceived of them and brought them into being.’ He glanced toward the table where the man and woman sat. For a brief moment his he caught Tanwen’s eye, She was gazing his way it seemed. But at second glance, he noted, it was his companion who drew her study.

[Mithalwen]

‘But what was it you were so sad about? Did you lose someone in your family. Or a friend?’ Taffy had asked Cir. The young elf pulled a stool from under the table and offered it to the hobbit lad and paused for a moment thinking how best to explain.

"Not exactly, for the song tells of the death of Gil-Galad, the last King of the High-Elves in Middle Earth and that happened at the end of the last age of the world " said Cir, then noticing that this didn't seem to convey much to Taffy he added "nearly three thousand years ago, and we are not yet fifty summers old. But our father and grandfather, and our uncle Cirion all fought in the army of Gil Galad in the Black Land but only our father came back. He hates it if we sing that song at home and our mother says that for him the memory of that time is still too painful. " The young elf's face tensed at a memory and then brightened. "But we sing merrier songs too - Oh Sister dear, shall we make them smile as well as weep?" he added mischievously with mock courtesy to his sibling. He ducked lest she swipe him in retaliation and grinned at Taffy.

[Firefoot]

"I'm here, Will, just a moment," called Cela from inside the large pantry. "Just putting some things away." She smiled at Will as she emerged; she had not forgotten the earlier incident but was determined both not to acknowledge it and to make up for it. "I was starting to wonder how you and Primrose were getting on. Feeling any better? Or is that tea starting to wear off?"

"More of the second, I'd say," said Will.

"So you only came to see me because you want something, is that how it is?" asked Cela lightly. "Never you mind. I was about to brew up some tea for myself; it's been a long day, wouldn't you say? I'll brew some willowbark up for you at the same time, and some for Primrose, too; even if she doesn't say she wants some, she'll probably be needing it just the same."

[Kath]

Cir had been a little surprised at her brother's sudden demand that they sing a sad song, and indeed that he wanted to sing at all, but she wasn't complaining. The voices in the room had fallen silent as the siblings wove the tune, and Cir had seen tears spring to the eyes of some of the patrons, even though they did not know the words. This song was one that did not need to be translated for the meaning to be understood.

As the last notes from the harp faded away she saw her brother turn to speak to the little boy that had been standing by them for some time. As the two talked Cir made herself useful, tuning up some of the instruments and giving others a quick dust. It seemed they had been in storage for quite a while.

“But we sing merrier songs too - Oh Sister dear, shall we make them smile as well as weep?"

Interrupted in her task as her brother turned toward her with a Cir sent a mock glare at him rather than a punch and winked at Taffy who grinned back shyly. Still, her brother’s idea was a good one, Dick had asked for them to entertain not to make people cry! Taking up one of the violins Cir struck up a new song, a happier one, and one that was liable to get people dancing with its lively tune.

Behold a wonder here -
Love hath receiv'd his sight,
Which many hundred years
Hath not beheld the light.

Such beams infused be
By Arien in his eyes,
At first have made him see
And then have made him wise.

Love now no more will weep
For them that laugh the while,
Nor wake for them that sleep,
Nor sigh for them that smile.

So pow'rful is the beauty
That Love doth now behold,
As love is turn'd to duty
That's neither blind nor bold.

Thus beauty shows her might
To be of double kind,
In giving Love his sight
And striking Folly blind.

[Valesse]

“I’m so sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Can I help you?” Valesseka turned toward Dick once it registered that he was addressing her. For a moment she hesitated before answering in order to recall all that she 'overheard'. "Oh, um, yes. I'd like to rent a room and for now just some mead if you have any."

She seemed a bit confused. Valesseka was mostly foreign to the concept of inns, and would probably be wholey lost if she had not been so sociable with travellers in the past. After another hesitation the girl, nodding toward the gaggle of preformers, added "I haven't been waiting very long, at least it wasn't a wait that I minded."

[Folwren]

“I can give you a room,” Dick said, “but I’m quite sorry to have to tell you that I can’t get you any mead. I do have a very light brew of beer you might like. Would you be willing to have a go at that? I can draw you up a taste to see how you like it.”

Valesseka seemed to hesitate a moment before she slowly nodded. “That will be fine. Just a full mug.”

Dick nodded and picked up a mug and turned to fill it. He turned again, the foam rising nearly to over flowing and set it on the counter. “What about something to eat? The cook’ll find you something, even this late. What do you say?” He looked up with bright expectant eyes, waiting for her to answer.

[Tevildo]

Tollers grinned back at Colren and responded. "So you want to know what folk are like around here? That's a hard question to answer in a few words. But maybe this will help. Just take a look at those bowls." Tollers nodded towards the center of the table where a number of platters sat overflowing with food. "I slipped them out of the kitchen when the staff wasn't looking. You see, whenever I eat with friends, I prefer the food be served family style, platters and bowls lined up in the middle with everybody reaching out and scrambling to get big spoonfuls onto their plate. That way everybody shares and there's always enough for seconds. That's what my own family did. And that's the way most folk around here are. A family sticks together and shares. If you're rich you might have fancier things in the pot to share. If you're poor, you get by the best you can. Some eat more and some eat less, but nobody in the family goes hungry."

"Most folks around here make family the center of their lives. What happens to their mum or brother is the most important thing in the world. They might even live a mile or two down the road. That's what I do. But they never stop thinking about the folks back home. I'd like to work here a while and then take a little trip adventuring. But at the end of it all, I'll come back to the old burrow and maybe build myself a little house right next door. Maybe help my sisters find hobbit lads who'll be good to them or take care of my dad when he gets too old to do the farming."

Tollers sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "I guess that's not too exciting for the likes of you, but that's how most folk around here think. Now, that's enough of me. Even if our Elf doesn't get back soon, I'm going to insist you tell me where you're from."

[Mithalwen]

The song his sister had started was an old one and Cir realised it had been a good choice since some of the company at least recognised it, even if the words and tune had suffered some variation as they had passed through the years and miles from it's creation.

Those who knew not the words hummed or clapped and it seemed its sprightly, rhythmic tune might inspire the younger of heart and nimble of foot to clear enough space in the busy bar to dance. The elf's slender hands drew music effortlessly from the small harp and the easy joyful melody required little concentration. His bright eyes took in the scene, noting and older elf with a ranger. He did not recognise them but a pang of anxiety struck him wondering if he had some connection with the party of pilgrims the twins had abandoned earlier in the day.

The twins were so used to understanding each other and generally found each other's company sufficient that they had not yet developed much skill in the osanwe kenta but Carantilion knew that older elves could communicate by thought even across great distances. His father in Rivendell could, albeit with great concentration, "speak" to his sister, Mithalwen at the Havens he remembered. He realised at that moment that they had forgotten this fact when reckoning on the time it would take for their parents to find out about their truancy. He sighed and carried on playing - it was to late to worry now and if the elf was come for them he would have said something by now. And he doubted that they could be punished at a distance....