”Those fool Bolgers don't know what they have! I mark up them hogs I buy from them by three, and my customers thank me for my trade.”
”Uh huh ...”
It started to rain. At first it was only a few drops that quickly turned into a gentle drizzle. Soon it would be pouring. Hellrien and Taraborn were standing by the gate that lead into the spacious yard of The Golden Perch Inn, watching as Cole’s workers took care of the carts and listening to the drunken locals babbling on about their business. Caravans from Bree to Stock and Michel Delving were quite common and their presence aroused little curiosity among the locals here. Farther beyond the Rushock Bog they would have been goggled at. It was not very common for Men to venture as far as Needlehole or Ered Luin.
Hellrien felt restless. Where the hell were the men from the second cart? Oh, there they were… slipping into The Golden Perch. Not a bad idea.
”It’s raining. Let’s get inside the inn.”
Tara nodded and followed Hellrien across the yard and through a round wooden door, a design characteristic for hobbit architecture everywhere. They had to duck to get through the door, but there was plenty of headroom inside the tavern. The Golden Perch was the most famous tavern in the Shire, at least to visitors from Bree, and usually full of locals as well as queer strangers. This evening there were only hobbits and men from their own retinue there. The interior was huge and classy. Red carpets on polished marble floor, engravings on the long bar, expensive paintings on the walls and finely-crafted chairs and tables. The barkeep was polishing a silver pint against light as they walked over to the bar.
”I’ll take a jug o' cider, barkeep”, Tara said. ”How 'bout you?”
”I'll have the same and the house special, whatever it is, for supper.”
”Yeah, I'll 'ave some bangers 'n' mash.”
”Let's go find a table, shall we?”
Hellrien and Tara found a comfortable-looking small table opposite the bar and took their jugs there. Taraborn took his helm and gauntlets off and sat across Hellrien. Hellrien removed her hat and tossed it on the table.
”D'ya reckon they'll have 'us' sized beds 'ere?” Tara wondered.
”Don’t count on it”, Hellrien smirked. ”They usually don’t, but it’s Stock, so who knows?”
”I ain't never been this far West, I know nothin' of it.”
”Oh, I've been this far and further. I have lived in Ered Luin farther west, though I've never spent much time in the hobbit country. Usually just going through these parts. It's very peaceful here.”
”I heard it is”, Tara nodded in agreement. ”Let’s hope it remains quiet.”
”It's a beautiful country. I hope it forever remains that way.” There was a hint of sadness or melancholy in Hellrien’s eyes as she sipped her drink.
”Talkin' o' beautiful”, Tara smirked, ”let's return to our conversation this mornin', cos that is certainly a word I'd describe you with.”
”Oh?” Hellrien said, raising an eyebrow. ”I always thought I was a bit too big-boned and chubby.” Hellrien figured she was pretty enough, but her face was too ordinary to really be considered beautiful. But she had learned that most men didn’t mind ’chubby’, or ’shapely’, and Hellrien had plenty working for her in that department. Tara was likely making an advance, she thought, perhaps cynically.
For the first time Hellrien regarded the other mercenary as a man, rather than just a fellow man-at-arms. Tara was definitely good-looking, in a rugged, manly way, and certainly strong and fit enough. And he seemed pleasant and intelligent, not a jerk or a bore. Confident too, and probably a womanizer. Somebody who would have a girl in every town – but Hellrien didn’t mind that. Men like that were easy, they came with no strings attached. A picture of Cole surfaced her mind, but Hellrien pushed it away. There were no strings attached between Colewulf and herself either, such had been their agreement. If Tara played his cards right tonight, who knows what could happen? Hellrien knew this dance from before.
”Even if you are there ain't nothin' wrong with it”, said Tara, shaking his head.
”Not to mention a bit damaged too”, said Hellrien, touching the scars around her eyebrows and her damaged ear. The old ’Wounded Doe’ act, Hellrien mocked herself.
”Everyone 'as scars, ain't nothin' wrong with it. If anythin' I'm impressed.” Tara took a swig of cider and smiled as a hobbit came over with two meals, placing the plates before them both.
”You got yerself a girlfriend, Tara? Or maybe more likely, girlfriends? Like, one in every town and three in the best of them?”
”Aye”, Tara laughed, ”Aye, I tended not to stay in a town too long, many fathers got a little angry with me. As fer in Bree? There's been few lasses but nothin' right now, yerself?”
”Don't tell it to Tal, but I have sort of been unprofessionally involved with my client Cole. It's not serious, as neither of us are actually committed sort.”
”Tha's the best way t' do it”, Tara laughed, ”commitment leads t' all sorts o' trouble.”
”I agree. Like children and such!”
”Couldn't agree more”, Taraborn nodded. He pulled his plate closer, looking surprised. ”I thought hobbit folk would have smaller meals than us ...”
”Oh no, they eat like this all the time, and like seven or eight times a day...” Hellrien grabbed her fork and knife and started cutting a sausage.
”No wonder they all look so round", Tara smirked. ”So ...” he took a bite of mash and swallowed, ”if it ain't nothin' serious yer free t' mess about I take it?”
”I guess so”, Hellrien said, raising an eyebrow. ”If you play your cards right, and are not looking for a wife or anything.”
”Ye think I'm lookin' fer that after what I just said?”
”I don't believe you do. And that's why I've disclosed everything I've just had.”
Tara washed his food down with a long swig of cider. ”This may turn into quite an interesting trip after all...”
”It's not a good day to get rip-roaring drunk, but otherwise I don't see why we couldn't enjoy our free time.” Hellrien yawned and stretched her arms. Tara kept shoveling mash into his mouth and grinned.
”Every day is a good day to get rip-roaring drunk, but I see yer point.”
Hellrien pushed her empty plate aside. ”Well, it's getting late. I think I'm going to retreat into my room.”
”Well”, Tara grinned, ”why don't we cut costs 'n' only use one room?”
”I guess we could do that.”
Hellrien pushed her chair back and stood up. Tara stood up too, grabbed his things and gestured Hellrien to lead the way.
The night was still young…
