The Gelatinous Case of the Gobbo-de-Gook (Continued)
(Being an entry in Lancogard’s notebook)
THE GOLDEN PERCH, STOCK, Eastfarthing in the Shire, being the 3rd of Thrimidge)
We (Applecider and I) arrived in Stock after a swift ride from Woodhall and the Yale, and rolled into the Perch as dark was setting in. Old Gunderic Chubb, the proprietor, was at the bar and hailed us. We ordered beds and stables for six, two hobbits and four Big Folk, with vittles laid on for each (as Cider insisted). Gundy relished the thought of the coin he’d get, and I told him it would be on account from the Watch; that satisfied him enough to get cracking.
Our party arrived in less than an hour, and all talk in the hall stopped dead when the Elves walked in – especially Her Ladyship, who walks into every room as if she owns it. As everybody was settling into their rooms, I was hailed by Shirriff Golendad Boffin, who was nursing a pint at the bar.
“Hullo there, Lance,” says he, “Fancy you getting here – there’s a letter come for you, just today’s post brought it.” He handed me the letter from Rolo, and I think Cider saw my face fall.
“What do, Lancey?” says she, and I shows her the letter. She reads it and looks back up at me with a glare in her eye. “Primstone, that cheap little stoat!”
“So, we’re out the coin and no expense account from the Watch,” says I. “What do we do now?”
“Pass the hat, that’s what,” says she, “Them skinny-Elfs gots to have coin, ye think?” I hopefully agreed.
Later that evening, the company gathered in one parlor, Gundy Chubb being good enough to give us the largest room he had, beds for seven Big Folk with its own sitting space and fireplace. Kortheod and that page-girl of his dropped off first, Emlinor having a lie-down on his own, and even Applecider was dropping off (I’m glad we didn’t have to double-up for bunks, she kicks). We had set a wake-up for dawn with Gundy and agreed to settle accounts after breakfast.
I found myself awake and sitting up late with Her Ladyship by the fire – and I was amazed to see her with a pipe, as she blew a passable smoke ring into the hearth! Well, I decided to join her, and blew a few rings of my own. I smiled to her, and she gave me a sly look, then took a long drag and blew rings again – but they weren’t rings, they were fluttering moths, flying up the flue!
“You’re a quick study, Your Ladyship, but I’m not really surprised,” says I.
“Patience and practice, my halfling, as with all things worth doing,” says she. Being passing practical, I explained the account situation to her, and she shrugged.
“Think nothing on it, Lance,” says she, “the House coffers will cover this and any other needs. But,” she says in a new tone, “I think you were right in mentioning Stock and staying the night. I wish we didn’t have to delay, but I see we have to pace ourselves.”
“Think on this, Bainiel: once we cross the river, we can move as swift as we may. The Moon is only two nights past the full; we can camp where we please; and after talk with Shirriff Boffin, the word is the Road as far as Bree is still open to alert travelers – and Adso’s Camp is roughly the halfway point.”
“We’re not going to Adso’s, not yet,” says she. “Some shadow is on my mind. Ost Barandor needs to be scouted before we move for Starmere. I shall need your skills once there; there are missing pieces of the puzzles before me.”
“I am always at your service, Your Ladyship”, says I, and at that point I bade her goodnight. The last thing I saw before sleep was Herself, gazing into the fire, and I thought I heard her muttering, ‘where are you, where are you…’
