The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Undómë]

Telu invites Illidan to sit down with them

Teluyaviel had poured them each a cup of the fragrant, steaming tea. She sipped hers, listening as her brother spoke to Esgallhugwen. The basket of fresh bread looked and smelled inviting. She took a piece for herself, spreading it with the butter and covering that with the thick peach jam. Tindomion had just fetched a piece for himself and offered the basket to Esgallhugwen when the sound of another voice intruded upon the conversation.

Telu looked up in surprise at the fair-haired Elf who now stood near her. So intent had she been on her bread and jam, that she had not noticed his approach. With a quick smile, she put down her bread and wiped the sweet, peachy stickiness from her fingers with her napkin. ‘Hello!’ she said, her eyes glinting with a merry greeting. ‘Yes, please. Come join us! Illidan, is it?’ She pointed to the empty chair to her left. ‘I’m Teluyaviel; Telu, for short. And this is my older brother, Tindomion. And our new friend, Esgallhugwen is there.’ Telu smiled at the older lady Elf.

‘And did you say you were from Eryn Lasgalen? So was my family! Where did you live, Illidan? And what brings you here to the Shire. Are you bound for the Havens?’

Telu blushed suddenly and pressed her lips shut. She caught her brother giving her an exasperated look. She could just tell he thought she had babbled on a bit too much.

[Pivli]

There seemed to have been a great many people come into the Common Room since she and Lara had sat down for a bite to eat. Lara had since excused herself, saying that she should be getting on home. Miz Greengage had bid her say hello to her mother for her and sent the child on her way. Now she sat peering around the fast filling room, wondering if Miz Bunce was in the kitchen.

It certainly smelled as if she were. Delicious, mouthwatering odors were making their way into the Common Room, promising a pleased mouth and a full belly if followed up on. ‘My goodness, Violet!’ she chuckled to herself. ‘It’s a wonder you aren’t seven times bigger than you are. What with your bottomless appetite!’ Mister Greengage had always said that to her, his eyes filled with laughter as she helped herself to a third helping of her own cooking. Then he’d squeeze her tight, lifting her off her feet as he swung her about. ‘Just look at you! Your tiny as a dandelion fluff! Big wind and you’d blow away for sure!’

Planting her can firmly on the oaken floor before her, Violet levered herself up to her feet. She stood there for a few moments, making sure of her balance, then got her old knees to agree to start walking. Towards the kitchen’s doors. She leaned up against one and pushed it open a bit.

‘Miz Bunce? Vinca?’ she called, peering around the door’s edge. ‘It’s Violet Greengage. You in there, dearie?’

[The Blood Mage]

Illidan had just introduced himself to the three elves and then suddenly one of the females spoke " Yes, please. Come join us! Illidan, is it?’ She pointed to the empty chair to her left. ‘I’m Teluyaviel; Telu, for short. And this is my older brother, Tindomion. And our new friend, Esgallhugwen is there.’ Telu smiled at the older lady Elf.

‘And did you say you were from Eryn Lasgalen? So was my family! Where did you live, Illidan? And what brings you here to the Shire. Are you bound for the Havens?’

Illidan was throughly surprised but did not show it and gladly accepted the offer and sat at the chair next to Teluyaviel , and said " I lived in the outer realm of Eryn Lasgalen near the peak of DolGuldur , I was a archer in the service of Captain Kael Thas , After the destruction of the Tower I ahve roamed the free lands of Middle-Earth and that is how I have come to this exotic land called 'The Shire',and What of you my friends , How have you come to this distant land far away from our homes ?? " .......

[Folwren]

For the second time that day in less than ten minutes, Tim found himself once again staring in surprise. He quickly recovered himself, and thankfully before Gerdy had noticed, shut his mouth and turned to the pony.

‘We’ll stable them. If yours is finished drinking we can take them now. There are two stalls right next to each other that they can take.’ The ponies lifted their heads almost together and Tim led his off. Gerdy followed close behind. ‘Here, put yours in there,’ Tim said over his shoulder as he passed the first empty stall. The next one he opened and led the second pony into it. There he took the rest of the harnessing off of the animal and rubbed him down. He went to the neighboring stall once he was finished to check on the other pony and found Gerdy still working on him. He smiled as he turned to get corn and hay for both of them.

He took the lid off of the grain bin and reached down to fill his buckets. His hand was arrested in mid air as he caught sight of a slight, quick movement on the edge. A smile broke out on his face as he went on to fill his bucket. So, there are mice in barn, are there? He had to get enough grain for both ponies. A mouse might come in handy. He chuckled this time and closed the lid.

“Here is some corn for the pony,” he said, swinging open the door to the stall. Gerdy looked up and nodded as Tim set it down. “I’ll be back with some hay in a moment.” He withdrew again to feed the pony he’d taken charge of and get the promised hay.

[piosenniel]

scrape . . . scrape . . . scrape . . .

The oven door was full open and Cook was kneeling on the floor, her head poked into the oven itself. The pies she’d made a day ago had bubbled over and their drippings now stood like a carbonized range of smoking black peaks on the oven’s floor. Which would not have ordinarily been a problem, save for the fact that they had taken to reeking of smoke when she’d begun heating up the oven for the day’s baking. The breads that morning had had a slightly smoked taste, which she’d passed off as a new recipe she was trying. But now she wanted to bake up her faery-cake recipe and the charred scent simply wouldn’t do.

The sound of some voice at a distance intruded upon her cleaning frenzy, and she pulled her head a little ways from the oven just in time to hear the word, ‘dearie’. Cook stood up, wiping her hands on the old towel she’d tucked into the waist of her apron and turned about.

‘Violet Greengage! Come in, come in! What brings you from your burrow to the Dragon?’ She motioned for Violet to take a seat at the kitchen table. ‘Here, just let me was up a bit and we’ll have a nice cup of tea and a chat.’

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Frór listent with outmost care to every word that Ibun said. When He had been so distracted that he forgot to put pipe-weed in his pipe and was siting with an empty pipe in his mouth. It was first when Ibun had stopped talking that Frór noticed this "unbelivabel" mistake!

Where is this Tower Hills of what you speak? I have never heard of this place. Fór asked,while preparing his pipe. Mithlond you say! Frór continued. If my memory is correct it is the place allso known as Grey Havens. I my self are heading in that direction, I have been told that the lord of this place should be most wise! Althoug an elf!

Frór now looked around the room, where after he leaned towards Ibun and spok in a low voice. I know of dwellings in the Blue Mountains, but it is said that ill things has happend there and thoug i know that these are north of the Gulf of Lhûn. I will not seek them until I have spoken to the lord of the Grey Havens. This would proberbly make the jurney easier too, since i do not know the road to these dwelings. He leand back in his chair, smoking his pipe.

Frór felt a warm feeling flow throug him, the food, drink and smoke had done it's job. He now startet to think of less ergent things. He noticed that his colthes was torn to threads, something he had completly ignored while eating!

Again he looked at Ibun and spoke: Master Ibun I think it would be a great advatage for boyh of us to jurney together, but I cannot leave before I have got some new clothes and restet! If you can wait, we shall jurney together. Now lets drink!

[Arry]

Gil and Rowan are joined by the rest of the crew

‘There you are!’ cried Tomlin, approaching the table where Gil and Rowan sat. ‘I thought your Da said we were to meet him at the Widow Thistlefoot’s burrow. Something about a shed to be put up . . . for gardening?’ Without invitation, he sat down at the table as he waited for Gil to answer. Hungry, or perhaps just wanting to have something to do with his hands, he began picking at gil’s plate. A strip of bacon here, a piece of toast there.

Fallon and Ferrin soon came tumbling in the door; rolling up to the table with laughs at some odd joke one or the other had thought up. ‘Ooh! Second breakfast, is it? Lovely!’ cried Ferrin crowding in next to Tomlin with a chair he’d borrowed from another table. Fallon sat on the other side of Tomlin and waved over Ruby. ‘Gil’s famished!’ he shouted as she drew near. ‘He’ll need another plate of eggs and ham and bacon and maybe one of mushrooms. Oh! And a bigger basket of bread and more cheese.’ He winked at Rowan. ‘This lass here is hungry, too. Make that two of everything.’

‘And more jam,’ said Tomlin spying Buttercup who’d come over to see what all the commotion was about. He waved the empty jam pot at her, grinning widely.

‘Sweets for the sweet,’ she laughed, grabbing it from his hand before it slipped and dropped to the floor. Hands on her hips she surveyed the rowdy fellows. ‘And who will be footing the bill for this grand breakfast?’ she asked, her gaze sweeping from one to the other and back again . . .

[Koobdooga]

‘Well, it would be good to have your company on the road, my friend!’ Ibun poured another mug of ale for himself and for Frór. The sunlight, he noticed, as he glanced toward the window was bright and inviting. ‘What do you say we take our ale and pipes out to the front porch, Frór? I noticed some chairs on the far end. We can sit back, put our feet up, and enjoy the sunshine.’

The two Dwarves had soon removed themselves to the Inn’s fron porch. The weather was mild, breezeless, and the sun’s light gave a feeling of warmth and contentment.

Ibun admitted he had never actually been to the Tower Hills before. But he understood the stood at the far western edge of the Shire. The Elves, he told Frór, had built three towers there long ago. And in the tallest, it was said, they had placed one of their long seeing stones that was said to be able to see all the way West to that place where the Elves go. ‘Of course, it’s no longer there. It went West on one of the Elven ships, or so I’ve heard.’

He took a few puffs at his pipe. ‘And just beyond those hills is the gulf where the Elves go to board their ships. That’s where I thought I would ask for news about Dwarves dwelling in the Blue Mountains. I’m sure they would have come down to the city about the docks there and sold some of their goods.’ He took a sip of his ale and sighed. ‘I’m sure they must have done so.’

[Dunwen]

“Ooof ” Ebba Rosebank had turned away from her locked door only barreled into by a hobbit lass carrying a large armful of towels. “Good gracious, be careful,” she exclaimed sharply, for even a hobbit laden with soft towels is painfully solid. Startled by the woman’s words, Ginger blushed pink and tried to apologize and pick up the scattered towels at the same time.

Ebba, having recovered from her own startlement, calmed down. The hobbit who had run into her was plainly distressed, and looked quite young. The widow was suddenly reminded of her younger daughter. “There, I don’t suppose either of us are hurt,” she said in a milder tone of voice. “Let’s get these towels picked up.” Ginger caught her breath, relived that the woman now spoke in an almost kindly manner. She curtsied and asked the guest if she would like some clean towels and facecloths, and flowers.

“I just finished washing up and could use one of each,” replied Ebba, as she picked up and folded some towels. “And some flowers would be pretty.” Ginger stopped her own picking up and folding to unlock the door of Widow Rosebank’s room and told Wren to put towels and some of the flowers in there. Shyly, Wren slipped inside to do as she was bid.

For her part, Ebba was surprised to see a small human girl in what was obviously a hobbit’s dress helping out at the Green Dragon. She looked at her closely as she disappeared into her room. In Bree, it wouldn’t have been unusual (except for the dress, of course) for Big Folk to work for hobbits and vice versa, but she had always thought the hobbits of the Shire tended to avoid humans. Of course, the common room downstairs had been filled with any number of different folk – elves, hobbits, at least one dwarf and herself. It had reminded her pleasantly of the Prancing Pony, and with less ruckus.

“It looks like you get all sorts of people coming through here,” she said cheerfully to Ginger as she helped the young hobbit load her arms once again. “The little girl helping you – does her family live in the Shire?” The widow had the oddest feeling she should know the child from somewhere, but couldn’t think why.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger answers Miz Rosebank

Ginger peeked into the room, watching Wren as she put fresh flowers in the lady’s vase. The girl seemed intent on what she was doing, her deft fingers arranging the colors in a pleasing pattern. Stepping away from the door a bit, Ginger spoke low to the question the lady had asked.

‘Her name is Wren, m’am,’ Ginger began. ‘Wren Woodlock. She works here at the Inn with me. I’m Ginger, by the way,’ she added quickly. ‘Her brother, Tim, helps out in the stable.’ She craned her neck to see where Wren was now. Pitching her voice even lower she leaned near the lady, whispering. ‘And no, her family doesn’t live in the Shire. They used to live in Bree.’ Ginger blanched, not quite sure how to continue. ‘Her Ma and Da . . . well, they’ve passed on,’ she stammered.

Wren, by this time, had finished her flowers, and stepped out into the hall. Ginger blushed and motioned her over. ‘Here’s Wren, m’am,’ she said by way of introduction. ‘And Wren this is Miz . . .’ Ginger’s brow furrowed, recalling she hadn’t actually heard the lady’s name. ‘Excuse me, m’am . . . I’d like to introduce you, but I guess I forgot to ask your name.’

[Pivli]

‘No more tea for me, Vinca! I’m all tea’d out this morning. Why if I had any more tea, I think I’d float all the way down to the Brandywine!’ Violet walked slowly over to the table, her cane thump-thumping along on the hardwood floor. She eased herself into the chair Cook had pulled out for her, straightening herself about until she faced the table proper. ‘Could use a wee tot of your dandelion wine,’ she said, smiling brightly at Cook. ‘that always’s goes down well, don’t it just? Makes me think of summers gone by.’

It was nice here in the Inn’s kitchen. Clean and bright and smelling of good solid Shire foods. Violet took off her bonnet and hung it on the side post of the chair’s back; her can she hooked over the top cross piece. Her bright black eyes gazed about the homey room lighting finally on Cook who stood leaning against the back of the chair opposite her, waiting it seemed for Violet to make known her wishes.

‘Awfully good to see you, Violet,’ Cook said, taking her apron off. She folded it carefully lengthwise and hung it over the back of her chair.

‘Don’t get out much lately,’ Violet offered in return. ‘These old legs give me fits sometimes, especially on the colder days – what with all their aching and paining. Not all that fun getting old!’ Violet laughed at her little joke, following it up with the oft heard rejoinder. ‘But then it’s much better than the alternative!’

She leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table. ‘I’ve come to ask about the Faire that’s coming up soon. I’m supposing there’ll be a booth for quilts, eh? I’ve a mind to show some of mine off this year. You think there’ll be room for them?’

[SunniGadi]

Sunni stalks in silently, and looks around the live and bustling place. She is somewhat overwhelmed by it all, and hastily looks for an empty table to seat herself at. At last her eyes fell upon one, and she walked over gracefully and pulled off her worn green travelling cloak, placing it on the back of the chair and immediately sitting down. She brushed her red hair from her face and chanced another glance around.

This was a very merry place, she decided. The building just had that feel to it, empty or crowded, to herself, anyway. She looked down at the table and looked at the worn marks upon it. What a history this place must have.

[ElentariGreenleaf]

How can such a place exist?. The rolling green meadows, the peaceful trickle of streams heading towards the great ocean... It was unbelievably beautiful compared to the wasteland of Haradwaith. Even the great land of Gondor was no beauty in contrast with this place. This place… The Shire. It seemed untouched by the Great War, yet it had indeed come to feel the pain the rest of the land had in that dark time.

A great peace filled Katara’s heart. The Shire was indeed the place her heart longed for. For the five years after her escape from the City of the Corsairs she had been moving from place to place in Middle Earth, looking for the home her heart desired. For two years she had stayed in Rohan, having discovered it to be her place of origin. But the pain of knowing they had allowed her parents to sell her as a slave was too much to bear. They claimed they had not known, but Katara saw a different tale in their eyes.

Her horse whinnied, causing Katara to start, snapping her from her thoughts. She smiled as one of the Little Folk walked by. Hobbits. They intrigued her no end. She had been in the Shire for a few days, so she no longer stared at them with wide eyes wondering how on earth a full grown Hobbit was only the size of a child. She had in fact thought them all children until she spoke to one. They were such kindly people, and Katara believed she would get on well here. Yes, this is where she would build her home.

A sign caught her eye as she road past. She stopped and looked back at it, reading aloud the fine script - “The Green Dragon Inn”. Now there was a fine name for an inn. She dismounted her mare, the only true friend she’d ever had, and set her out to graze, trusting her not to wander too far. Until she had built her home, Katara would need to somewhere to stay. She had earned much money since she had broken free of captivity, but she did not like to think about how. It made her sad she knew how to use a sword, yet she knew she could not have survived without the skill. But that part of her life was behind her now. She could live peacefully here, with her own animals and a vegetable garden for her to live off. Yes, that was how her life would be from now on. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the quaint inn.

[Folwren]

Tim, having tended to the two ponies, stepped back out of the barn into the sunlight again. He glanced about him and seeing nothing new that needed to be attended to immediately, he went towards the kitchen door to see if he could be of any assistance there. He'd half crossed the yard when a new figure rode up on the road. The horse stopped before the inn and Tim turned to go to them and see if the rider was stopping and wanted the horse put up.

It was a woman who dismounted, Tim noted as he drew nearer, and as she looked at the inn, she had a small smile on her face, reflecting the thoughts in her head.

'She's happy,' Tim thought.

The horse stepped to the side as the woman walked away from it, and her head lowered towards the ground and began nibbling at whatever grass it could find.

"Wait, ma'am! Do you want-?" But the woman hadn't heard him and had just stepped into the door. Tim stopped. What did he do now? The horse might wander off in search of grass. Some hobbit lad might spook it - or it might step on the reins, if they dangled too close to the ground, and he'd seen the reaction of enough horses to know that wasn't a good thing to happen.

The best thing to do would be to go in and ask the woman if she wanted her horse put up. He shrugged his shoulders, put down whatever doubts he had of addressing a total stranger, and hurried after her. Entering the inn, he spotted her almost immediately, still glancing around for someplace to sit, probably. Tim walked quickly towards the woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, stepping up beside her. "Your horse...you left her outside. Do you want me to feed and water her?"

[ElentariGreenleaf]

Katara spun round to face the owner of the voice that addressed her. Expecting a Hobbit, she was surprised to see another of the race of Man standing before her. A worried look plastered his face. She smiled at his concern for her mare.

"You need not worry about Swift," she grinned. "She is wise, and will not wander far from here." This did not ease the worry on the lad’s face. "Pray, what is your name?"

"I’m Tim," he answered, smiling back. "I’m the stableboy for the inn here. My concern is not that she will wander off, kind lady, but that the young Hobbit lads will tease her. She’s a fine mare, if I may say so myself."

Katara looked at Tim. He seemed to have a kind heart, and Swift could do with a proper rest. Yes, she would trust this lad with her companion. Indeed, why should she not trust anyone here? It was so peaceful and calm. The perfect place to live.

"Ma’am…?" Tim looked at Katara’s far off stare. "Ma’am, would you like me to take Swift to the stable for you?"

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Katara looked over at Swift through the window, who was looking back as if she knew of what they spoke. The mare whinnied, but quickly went back to eating. Looking at Tim again, Katara smiled.

"Yes. I think Swift would like that very much. And please, call me Katara." She offered her hand to Tim, who looked at her blankly for a moment until she reached for his hand and shook it. They walked outside to Swift, and Tim showed Katara where to lead her.

[Folwren]

“Have you been traveling very long?” Tim asked as Katara closed the stall door. The woman nodded slightly. “Your horse looked like she’d been out for a long time. If you like, I can brush her up after I get her some food and water. You don’t need to worry about her at all any more.”

“Thank you, Tim,” the woman said with a smile. “Swift enjoys being groomed.” Tim nodded and picked up a bucket. He and Katara parted ways as she headed back for the inn and he went to make Swift feel at home.

Swift whinnied softly as Tim re-entered the stall with the corn and hay. He smiled at her while preparing the food and then set it before her. She immediately went to eating and he fetched brush and comb and began his work.

However long they had been traveling, Katara certainly hadn’t neglected her horse to mud and dirt, and it was only a matter of minutes before Tim had her looking clean again. He combed her main and then left the stall. He would find master Meriadoc to double check if he had neglected anything and then, if not, wait for the next horse to arrive.

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Frór and Ibun sad a long time with out speaking, letting the sun warm them, smoking there pipes and just relaksing!

Frór was allmost sleeping, but a cold wind made him all awake! He looked at Ibun who was sitting deep in thoughts, Frór could still not belive his fortune in meeting this dwarf.

Say Ibun, when are you planing on leaving this place? I like it much here and was it not for my errand I would stay here for a very long time! You seem to know alot of the surrounding lands, are they as plesant at here? Fror asked.

[piosenniel]

‘Oh, aye, there’s a booth for quilts, Violet. And I’ve no doubt there’ll be room for your quilts. Lovely patterns you use, as I recall.’ Cook smiled and nodded her head. ‘I remember trading for one of your little ones one year. All blue like the sky in summer . . . that was the borders. And daisies in all sorts of colors quilted in the blocks.’ Vinca chuckled, her eyes glinting as if the quilt hung in the space before them. ‘An all over you’d quilted little ladybugs in your fine stitching, trailing from one block over another. And scatterings of leaves as I recall.’ Her gaze moistened a bit, then blinked back to normal. ‘Gave that one to my little granddaughter.’

She poured them each a small swallow of dandelion wine, taking out two of her small thin crystal flutes to do so. The ladies held the glasses up to the light from the kitchen’s window. It swam through the sweet, golden liquid in a lazy way, just as summer sun light does through a summer’s day thick with promise.

‘To last summer!’ said Cook, clinking the rim of her glass lightly against Violet’s. ‘And to the next!’ laughed Violet, lifting the glass to her lips.

Cook sat down for a few moments – her cookie dough could wait for the while. The ladies fell to talking about previous fairs, gossip mostly, and not all of the favorable sort.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fatty and Gerdy Chubb

The ale was disappearing quickly into the greedy mouths of those who crowded about the display and Fatty was hard pressed to keep the mugs moving quickly enough to satisfy them. He cast an anxious eye about for his brother and cousin. Fordogrim was still locked in conversation with the Innkeeper – if conversation it could be called for the mistress of the Inn had been standing there looking at the diminutive hobbit for a long time without speaking, presumably meditating upon her reply – and Gerdy was nowhere to be seen. “Hoy, there, Mister Chubb! Another mug of the Gold if you please!” Fatty poured out another frothing cup and passed it to the hand which belonged to the voice. From across the yard he saw the boy Tim who had gone to stable the ponies with Gerdy. He was walking across the yard as though in search of someone but Fatty, who was beginning to feel as though he were being buried by empty mugs, cajoling fists, and jostling elbows, was well past the point at which politeness was his primary concern.

“Master Tim!” he cried, and then again, even louder when the stableboy failed to hear his voice above the commotion about the wagon, “MASTER TIM!” This time he saw the lad perk up his ears and look his way. “WHERE HAS MY BROTHER GERDY GOT TO?” Tim looked about and shrugged, then pointed to the stables as though to indicate that the hobbit might still there. Fatty turned back to his customers, now openly grumbling.

As if on cue his brother emerged from the stable and began walking slowly toward where Fatty was now almost being utterly overwhelmed. Some of the customers, impatient with waiting for their free sample, were stepping over the bar and helping themselves. “Gerdy!” Fatty cried, “Get over here, lad and lend a hand!”

Gerdy looked at his right hand before replying, “I can lend you two brother, if I can have them back when you’re done needing them. I’ve only just come from tending to the ponies and have yet to inquire about rooms for ourselves. That nice Master Tim spoke highly of this here Inn and said that we were sure to be made welcome. He also asked how long we’d be staying so I gave that some thought, but I’m not sure I got it precisely the right way around. The way I see it…” By this point he had come close enough to Fatty for his brother to thrust a couple of empty mugs into his hands and roughly turn him about to face the customers, so the conversation was soon cut short. The two brothers fought on, but the crowd was clearly getting the better of them. Neither of them knew how much longer they could hold on without reinforcements. They cast many a glance at their cousin, wondering when he would be done gabbing with the tall woman and get back to something useful.

[Folwren]

Tim stood leaning against a tree by the front of the inn. He watched the two Chubb brothers, handing out the ale as quickly as they could fill the mugs. The two hobbits seemed hard pressed and desperate for help. Tim chuckled slightly and straightened himself up. He was just the size of a hobbit, maybe a little taller, and figured he'd be able to do the work they did just as easily.

He walked around the crowd of free takers to where Fatty and Gerdy stood behind the casks of ale, working as quickly as they could. Tim stepped up beside Fatty.

"Here," he said, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, "I can serve from this cask."

Fatty gave him a glance that looked as thought he doubted that Tim could manage a tap, but Tim had already taken one of the mugs and filled it and handed it off to someone reaching for ale. He flashed the hobbit a grin and took another mug.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman stared at the hobbit, amazed at his audacity, then simply laughed - she couldn't help it. Something about the hobbit's showmanlike manner was comical, despite himself, yet in his chirpiness he also seemed so totally sincere. Throwing up her hands, she held a hand out - and down - to Fordogrim and shook his firmly. "An excellent businessman that you are, Master Chubb," she conceded with a grin. "I don't suppose I really have much of a choice..."

"But a wise choice the remaining option makes anyway, Mistress Innkeeper," replied the hobbit, flashing her a grin.

"It's Aman, thanks - 'Mistress Innkeeper' makes me sound rather like a grim-faced, middle aged spinster - and if you say a word to that end, Merry, I shall have your guts for garters!"

The Innkeeper directed the last threat at the hobbit stablemaster who had approached the pair while they were talking. Merry simply gave the Innkeeper an innocent smile, then a wicked wink, and was rewarded for his pains by a quick swipe at his head. Ducking under her arm, Merry put on a face of mock hurt, but couldn't help laughing. "Oi, I didn't say a word, did I? See that, Master Chubb, an abusive employer, that's what she is! An abusive-"

"Ah, shush shush!" Aman grinned fondly at the stablemaster. Drawing herself up grandly, she adopted a superior expression. "Has the common stablemaster something to merit our attention and valuable time?"

"Only to ask if Aman would like to grace me with her prescence in getting these horses in - but then, Aman seems to have gone missing, who is this haughty trollop left in her place, hmm?"

"Ooh, I'll clap your ears such a swipe that you won't know the ringing from your own doorbell for a week!" Aman swiped once more at Merry, still laughing. Shaking her head, she replied, "Is Tim not with you?"

"Aye, 'course, and a grand lad he is too - I merely wondered. Unless, of course, you'd rather get back to that pile o' paperwork up in your rooms there..."

Aman winced, adopting a pained expression. "I shall pretend I didn't hear that, for my sake rather than yours. No, I should go and catch up with Cook - can't leave her with those hobbit goodwives all evening, their tongues would go black from all that gossip! It was a pleasure doing business with you, Master Chubb," she added, turning back to Fordogrim. "And may I bid you a good day, and may it be a prosperous one for us both!"

"I'll toast to that, aye!" Chubb agreed, holding up a hand as if toasting her with an ale mug. Aman grinned back and turned to wander across to the verandah on which Cook and the other hobbit women perched, twittering their busy, busy words excitedly, and wondered what she had got herself into with this diminuitive showman of a business-hobbit.

[Dunwen]

"Excuse me, m’am . . . I’d like to introduce you, but I guess I forgot to ask your name."

Ginger had to repeat her request. Ebba shook herself out of her shock and finally answered the hobbit. "I'm Widow Rosebank. From Bree," she said faintly, looking at Wren all the while. Ginger wondered what was wrong with the lady. She looked like she'd seen a wraith.

Ignoring Ginger, Ebba spoke to Wren, who was herself very uncomfortable under the widow's scrutiny. In a gentle voice at odds with her normal brisk manner, she asked the girl, "Your name is Wren Woodlock ? And you have a brother?" At the child's frightened nod, Ebba said, "Bless me, dearie, but we thought you two were dead or carried off by wolves or some such thing. I didn't know your Ma and Da well at all, but I've done business with your landlord nearly fifteen years. Right worried he was when he couldn't find you after your folks died."

Tears filled the girl's eyes as she realized this rather alarming woman was from Bree and knew who she and Tim were. "Please don't take us away from here, ma'am," she begged. "We like it here."

"Why, who said any such thing," exclaimed the Widow, regaining some of her usual spirit. "It will be a load off your landlord's mind to know you're both safe and well, but you look like you're doing just fine right here." She looked at the tearful little girl, and added quietly, "You and your brother are welcome to come to me for a chat any time." Looking at the hobbit, she said, "And so are you, Miss Ginger."

Still shaking her head in amazement, she left the two of them alone in the hall and made her way downstairs. She still wanted to speak to Miz Bunce, but she'd give a great deal to know how those two youngsters had ended up at the Green Dragon.

[Folwren]

Wren blinked back remaining tears from her eyes and swiped at her face with her sleeve as she watched the Widow Rosebank from Bree disappear around a corner. It was annoying to find herself in tears for the second time in one morning. She glanced briefly at Ginger, only to find the hobbit gaping in surprise - at her, now that Mrs. Rosebank had gone. Wren sniffed rather apologetically as she stopped to pick up a towel that had been over looked.

“We’d better go on and finish the other rooms,” she said, quietly.

“Oh, yes - yes we should, rather,” Ginger said, starting out of her revere. She hurried forward to the next room and unlocked it, keeping whatever questions she had to herself, for the time being. What Ginger thought of the whole matter didn’t even enter Wren’s little head. Her thoughts were occupied on the very fact that Widow Rosebank had known of her and Tim. . .that she had worked for their parent’s landlord, and then she had come all the way from Bree to here. Unlike Tim, who might have been able to put things together far more sensibly than she could, Wren couldn’t understand the situation, and made it out for worse than it was. She was scared that she and Tim might have to go back.

“I’ve got to go find Tim!” she cried, coming out of the third room with Ginger. “Can I please? I’ve got to!”

“Alright, alright, child, I won’t stop you,” Ginger said. “Hand me the flowers. . .” Wren handed them to her in a rush, and promising to return shortly, she darted away and ran as though something were after her. She burst into the kitchen, interrupting Cook and another lady-hobbit in the midst of some sort of tea. Hurrying an apology, she slowed half way as she passed through towards the door.

“I’m sorry. . .Didn’t mean to be rude. . .where’s Tim, do you know? I’ve got to find him. He must be outside.” Without giving any time whatsoever for any answers, she ran out into the sunlight. The large group by the Chub brothers’ and cousin’s ale giving caught her eye and slowed her pace. She looked towards it and almost at once caught sight of her brother at work behind one of the casks. Her feet quickened again and she rushed about to where Tim stood. He didn’t see her and was working in the same hurried fashion as the two hobbits by his side were. Wren didn’t notice - or didn’t care - and caught at his arm.

“Tim, I’ve got to tell you something,” she said. Tim looked about and a smile flashed briefly over his features.

“Hey, Wren. Not just now. I’m busy.” He tried to disentangle his arm from her hands, but she held on stubbornly. He didn’t have time to figure out the look on her face. Nothing was amiss, as far as he knew, and he didn’t want to hear about anything that might have gone on in the inn just now. “Wren, go away! I’ve got to help.” But Wren didn’t let go. Her grip remained, and then the trouble struck faster than either of them could understand. He tried to push her off and she pushed back harder. He stepped back to save himself from a fall, but didn’t have anyplace to step back to and they both crashed into the makeshift table with the casks of ale.

Down it went, casks, mugs, and all. Being so low to the ground, the casks did not break, but rolled over several times and stopped. Tim and Wren picked themselves up quickly, startled and rather frightened. Tim gazed about him in mortification and then turned on his sister, badly shaken and considerably angry.

“Now look what you’ve done! Of all the-” but he cut himself short and snapped his mouth shut, well aware of the onlookers and strangers standing about. Wren looked up at him, and then down at the wreck of things, and then she burst into violent tears and fled the scene towards the kitchen door.

[Witch_Queen]

Cariâthwen had spent most of the morning tending to her horse. Thorn had never liked being away from Cariâthwen but he was now finally getting use to her being gone. Cariâthwen was on her way back inside the inn when a piece of parchment fell out of the sky, landing right in front of her. Cariâthwen bent down to pick the parchment up. On the outside she saw elvish writing that she knew all to well. A message for her. Cariâthwen was all to happy cause this meant a message from her mother.

Cariâthwen proceeded on her original thought, going inside to have a seat and wait for Seleven. Finding an empty table was going to be hard. Looking around the inn she finally saw a table that was unoccupied. Always in the far corner where I tend to stay.... Funny how things work out. Her morning was already looking good and she thought the day could only get better.

Trying not to bump into the hungry hobbits Cariâthwen made her way to the corner where she could set and read her message all while she waited for Seleven. Cariâthwen was all to reluctant to read the message. Unrolling the off-white parchment Cariâthwen thought her heart was going to jump out of her chest. She gazed at the elvish writing, knowing this message was from her mother.

"Cariâthwen,
My dearest daughter. You have spent most of your life looking for purpose as to why you are who you are. I know you all to well and I believe now it is time to tell you the truth as to who we actually are." Cariâthwen paused, where was her mother going with this message. You have lived your whole life and the only woman you knew as your grandmother was Galadriel but that has been a lie. When I was just a "child" Galadriel took it upon herself to raise me as her child. I know this news may seem unreal but I am afraid it is the only truth I know. You are still my child and no one elses. I know not what else to tell you that might help you with your search. All your life you seemed so different from the other elves. You are different cause you see everyone as the same. Even if that means that you never leave your life in Middle Earth, its your life.

Do not let the news trouble you,
Melvilyawen"

Cariâthwen sat in her chair stunned and didn't want to believe what she had just read. This cannot be true..... Does this mean my life is a lie? No I...... Cariâthwen ignored the sound of footsteps. She almost didn't even notice that Seleven was standing behind the empty chair.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim flew toward the wreck of his make-shift bar and threw himself to work at cleaning it up, even as his cousins were coming out of their surprise. His shrewd mind quickly grasped what had happened and to save the situation as best he could be began speaking at once. “Come come come, everybody, don’t worry – no worries! We’ll soon have this cleared away and then more drinks for all, more for all!” Now that he had secured the good graces of the Innkeeper he was eager to resume distributing his goods. He had seen the response to his product and knew that the more folk he could get drinking it, the more folk would be speaking of it. An idea flew into his mind… He had been a Hobbit all his life (which is to say that Fordogrim Chubb was fifty-three) and he knew one thing about his kind: their love of beer was equalled only by their love of gossip. His whole purpose in coming to the Green Dragon in such a dramatic way had been to generate a story worth the telling. Truth be told, he had hoped for something more of a confrontation with Aman – some shouting and high words (he had even prepared a few speeches for the occasion), he had even hoped that perhaps he might move the Innkeeper to a passion…now that was a story sure to have spread to the four farthings as quick as thinking! But she had been disappointingly accommodating. But the crash of the bar, gave him a new opportunity.

Standing tall he cried out, “ATTENTION ALL! In order to facilitate a QUICK RETURN to business, I will give a cask of my BEST ALE to the person as can pick up the most mugs and stack them here upon the bar in the quickest fashion. And free beer for ALL HELPERS!” As you can see, so unused was Fordogrim to giving away his wares without charge that in the heat of the moment it had slipped his mind that he was already giving away his product for free.

There was a rush as the onlookers began to scramble about for the loose mugs for a free mug of beer was one thing, but an entire cask to take home for the family was an altogether different and more magnificent matter! To help them along, Fordogrim began singing one of his favourite songs, and like all his songs it was about the art of brewing. Soon people caught the tune and the words and were singing along lustily as they worked.

I work hard
To make them happy
Every weekend
Makes them party
To the rhythm
Makes them happy
It's magic beer!

Everybody!
Come and drink
Fordogrim’s beer!
Everybody!
Come and drink my
Magic beer!

I make sure
There's a party
When they drink
This special beer
Fordogrim’s Gold
It's magic beer
Fordogrim’s Gold
It's The Shire’s beer!

Everybody!
Come and drink
Fordogrim’s beer!
Everybody!
Come and drink my
Magic beer!

As the work and the singing progressed, Fordogrim spoke a quick word in Tim’s ear. “Now my lad, I don’t want you to go and feel too bad about having upset the cart, so to speak, for you’re a good worker and a good lad and you seemingly have a way with my cousin Gerdy and that’s no rare trait! But you’ve done me a bit of a bad turn and there’s no two ways about it. Still and all, I don’t hold a grudge, I surely don’t and there won’t be another word from me on the subject again. All I ask is that you try not to have your wrestling matches where I’m trying to do my business.” Here he reached up to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Young scamp! I have two of my own about your age and they’re right handfuls the both of them. Come along Master Tim, lend a hand with the mess and then we can see about speaking with that girl as you were tussling with about making things up between you.”

[Hookbill the Goomba]

The cool morning breeze had been rather refreshing, and the sound of the birds singing in the trees was always a joy to any ears that had a heart to listen. Seleven, a man of Gondor, stood outside the Green Dragon Inn with his hood cast over his head and his arms folded beneath his cloak. Many walked passed not heeding him, or not noticing him. A Dwarf strode past and Seleven got some news from him.

"I don't think the gap of Rohan will be a safe road," said he, "those trees are dangerous."

"To dwarves with an axe, maybe," said Seleven, "it is said that they do not love those who hew trees. But all the same, what news from Gondor can you give to me?"

"Gondor?" the Dwarf thought for a while, "not a lot. The King rules well and what remains of the Orcs are driven away. I have not been there for many a long years, but I hear that Minas Tirith is magnificent this time of year."

"Thank'ee my good dwarf." quickly, he handed him some gold pennies and went back to standing as the Dwarf wandered off down the road on business of his own. Seleven searched inside his pack and took out a tobacco bag, but he found it was empty. He sighed and went into the Inn with some feeling of happiness, the day had seemed bright and there was no trouble to be known.

Cariâthwen was sat reading something at a table that was near to a large picture of By-water, probably painted by an old Land Lord. Seleven quietly stepped up to her as she leant back, seeming to have finished reading. "What news?" asked Seleven, but as he tried to sound cheerful, a shadow came across his heart and he perceived that it was ill news.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger finished up the few rooms there were left to do and hurried back down to the kitchen. She was near to bursting with her news about Wren and Tim and Miz Rosebank. She rushed from the stairs to the kitchen’s door, waving at a few customers who had tried to give her their meal orders. ‘Buttercup’ll be round!’ she’d said hastily to them as she hurried by.

The doors flew open with a loud bang as she flew threw them. A moment of guilt assailed her, knowing Cook did not like her walls scuffed by the doors in such a manner. ‘Cook!’ she called out, throwing caution aside. This news was much too urgent to care about the condition of the wall paint.

‘Cook?’ she said again, but this time in a questioning voice. The kitchen was empty. Pans of rolls had been set by the stove to finish rising, clean lined towels carefully covering them. The big cauldron of thick mutton, vegetable, and barley soup was bubbling lazily on the hob.

‘Oh!’ Ginger huffed in an exasperated manner. ‘Here I am with a bit of good news and no one to tell it to!’ Her glance fell on the slightly opened back door . . .

[Pivli]

Violet and Vinca had taken their glasses of dandelion wine with them as they’d gone to inspect Cook’s herb garden. Vinca, it seemed had gotten a few unusual plants from a young woman passing through from Breeland. And Violet, whose own little herb-knot gardens were her bride and joy had inquired if she might see them. Her curiosity was piqued at the thought of new plants and she was already planning how she might cajole Vinca out of a cutting or two.

They were bent over a rather common looking little plant which looked much like a spiky leaved sort of hen-and-chickens; Violet leaning on her cane to steady herself. She frowned, wondering at the name it had been given. “Hullo Verra”, Vinca had said, adding it was good for healing wounds, especially burns. Vinca snapped off the end of a tall, succulent leaf, showing her the thick, clear gel that oozed out.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of loud male voices coming from round the Inn. As fast as feet and cane could take them they hurried round to the side of the Inn and peered into the front yard – where a curious sight surprised them.

Casks of beer, mugs in disarray, and any number of local lads scurrying about as if in a competition.

[Koobdooga]

Ibun and Frór join in

Ibun was about to answer Frór’s question when the curious spectacle began to unfold before them. He stood up from his chair an incredulous smile working its way up his cheeks. Ibun’s eyes glinted as he looked at Frór and pointed to the casks and mugs that had appeared on the lawn.

‘Mahal is surely smiling down on us today, my friend!’ he exclaimed. He knocked the ashes from his pipe and ground out the live embers that fell to the floor of the Inn porch. ‘Come on!’ he said, nodding his head toward the general melee. ‘Why should the Hobbits have the reward today? We Dwarves can drink as deep as any. Let’s lend a hand!’ In a few quick steps, he was down into the yard.

[Lilly]

Lilly Greengage shifted the basket of plum preserves on her hip. Oh, not that the basket itself was filled with the preserves, that would have proven quite messy, indeed. No, the basket was stacked with ten fair-sized crocks of the purple-red delight; the top of each of sealed with a thick layer of wax. Lilly, herself, had done the ladling in and the sealing of the preserves; her Gran had done the making of them. And this year she’d let Lilly in on her secret ingredients – the ones the ladies in the Westfarthing would give their eyeteeth to know.

These were to be a present for Miz Bunce, and old friend of her Gran’s. She could use them in her plumcake or sweet rolls or just serve them up on the lovely scones she made sometimes when her Gran would visit for tea.

Pausing at the turn off to the Inn, Lilly set down the basket for a moment, rubbing her hip where the weight of it had dug in. She could see the Inn. And there in the yard, some commotion. Her blue eyes sparkled as she took in the odd sight. Well, not so odd, she thought, a smile dimpling her cheeks. She’d always thought of the Inn as a rather magical place where anything might happen.

Lilly took a moment to smooth down her green skirt and tuck her blouse in neatly. She adjusted her black wool vest, making sure the three bone buttons were all done up. Her yellow curls she pushed back from her face, putting the little carved wooden combs in to either side of her part. With a shrug she let the folds of her brown wool cape swirl into place, its little hood hanging neatly down her back. She wanted to look nice when she presented her and her Gran’s gift to Miz Bunce.

The basket once more secured against her hip, she set off toward the Inn proper, stepping off the main path, so as to avoid the goings-on in the front yard. ‘I’ll just go around to the back,’ she said, keeping eyeing the scurrying lads. It was then she looked to the side of the house and saw Miz Bunce and another lady she knew.

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=10581) which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

Time of Day

It's nearing noon in the Shire.

Second breakfast is being served. Lunch is being cooked - savory mutton stew with vegetables, taters, and barley; warm rolls straight from the oven with sweet cream butter, jams, honey, cheeses; and baskets of big, nut & spice cookies to fill in any of the hollow spaces. Drinks of all sorts are of course available.

The weather is pleasant - sunny with a clear sky.

[Huan]

Rowan looked out the window, her attention drawn by the rising sounds of male voices. She stood up from her chair and crossed the short space to the window for a better view. ‘Look here!’ she said, motioning for Gil and the others to follow. ‘Looks to me as if we’re missing out on some sort of a party.’ She pointed to the casks and the fellows with mugs in their fists. ‘And isn’t that Emlin out there, tasting the wares himself.’

She laughed seeing him take a mouthful of beer. She knew he thought he might enjoy it – after all, all those others seemed to be. Fool Elf!!! Now, there he stood his cheeks bulging; his eyes, nearly bugged out. She could see the dilemma in his mind almost. Shall I be polite and swallow it? Or rid myself of the foul brew with one good spit. He was spared the decision as a Hobbit bearing an armful of mugs bumped into him, causing him to splutter and lose his mouthful.

The Hobbit was most apologetic, Rowan could see. And offered the Elf a hand up. He walked away shaking his head as the Elf, laughing loudly, waved him off.

‘C’mon, fellas!’ Rowan urged the others as she stepped quickly to the door. ‘Let’s go out and join the fun!’

[Celuien]

Robin Sandheaver came strolling down the East-West Road, whistling a tune. Morning's work was done and it was a fine day for a walk - and an even finer day for a mug of ale at the Green Dragon. Truth be told, it was the Green Dragon's fine ale that had brought Robin on his walk as much as the beautiful weather. He ambled up to the Inn's door and pushed it open.

What a scene met his eyes! Rather than the Inn's usual calm, there were folk scurrying about here, there and everywhere, stacking endless piles of mugs on the bar. Shouts and laughter filled the air along with the aromas of food cooking in the kitchen. That, at least, was expected.

"Good morning!" he called out.

"Morning!" came the breathless reply from another Hobbit in the Inn, who was hurrying past with a tray full of mugs. He grabbed Robin's arm. "Quick, join in the game. Free beer from Fordogrim to anyone who helps with the cleaning. You can't let that chance slip, can you?" The hobbit scurried off, mugs in hand.

"Free beer?" thought Robin. "This day is certainly going from good to better, and no mistake." And without further ado, he went to work gathering all of the mugs within his reach.

[piosenniel]

Cook shaded her eyes against the noonish sun and peered at the spectacle taking place in the Inn’s yard. ‘’My stars, Violet,’ she murmured, amazed at the activity taking place. ‘What’s got into them?’

She hooked her arm through Violet’s and the two of them walked cautiously toward the scurrying men. She paused for a moment, a frown on her face at the figure she saw coming toward them. ‘And look there!’ Cook said, pointing her finger at the lass with the basket perched on her hip. ‘It’s Lilly, isn’t it?

[Folwren]

“Come along Master Tim,” Fordogrim Chubb said, “lend a hand with the mess and then we can see about speaking with that girl as you were tussling with about making things up between you.”

“Yes, sir,” Tim replied quickly. “I’m very sorry, sir. That was my sister. . .” He turned his head away briefly. Glancing over the place, it appeared that most of the work had been done. Several people were busy setting the casks of ale back in their place on the re-erected table. Great stacks of mugs were already piled up on it. It flashed briefly through his mind to wonder who had won, and how they were even going to decide that. But the next instant, he didn’t care. “It looks like the job is done, sir,” he said, turning back to Fordogrim. “I’m really sorry. I can help, like I was before the accident, if that would help.”

The hobbit smiled up at him, his offer accepted, it seemed, before he turned to address the group of people who had helped clean up and set to rights the mess that Tim and his sister had caused. Tim stepped back and turned away. His face was hot, and his heart still beat high with the excitement and anger. Make things up, did the hobbit say? Not any time soon that Tim could see! What had Wren meant by barging in there like that? He couldn’t shake the thought that it had, after all, been her fault and he had been the one left to suffer the shame and embarrassment of it all.

As for Wren, she had run off as quickly as her feet could carry her, if only to hide her tears. She had wanted to dodge Cook’s presence in the kitchen and so passed the door, but almost immediately realized that Cook and her friend had left the indoors and gone out to the garden. The girl doubled back on her path and returned, all at the same, fast speed of a run. Without pausing to wait, she darted in through the kitchen door, and there her flight was stopped as she bowled right into no other than Ginger.

The hobbit stumbled back and Wren stood for a moment in shocked surprise. How utterly clumsy, she thought. Fresh tears promptly replaced the old. She looked around her helplessly a moment, struggling with a sob, and then she looked straight at Ginger. Not understanding why in the least, she walked to the hobbit quickly, put her arms about her, and letting the dam break, the flood of tears came.

[Pivli]

Violet squinted, trying to take the distant figure in. The bright sun backlit the lass’s golden hair, throwing her face into shadow. She couldn’t be sure if it were her great grand niece. She held her walking stick up in the air and motioned for the girl to come nearer.

She leaned back on her walking stick as Lilly came closer. Her gaze turned back to the fellows hurrying about like ants in the front yard. ‘Now about your question, Vinca,’ she said, nodding her chin toward the lads. ‘The one about what’s got into them.’ She chuckled, stamping her stick on the ground for emphasis. ‘Ale, I think . . . that’s what’s got into them . . . and plenty of it.’

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger had just put her hand to knob on the kitchen’s door when Wren came barreling through. Seeming dazed, the girl stumbled back and looked about through tear-swollen eyes. With a sob, Wren hurtled again toward Ginger and clasped her arms about the Hobbit tightly. For her part, the twice-surprised Hobbit clasped the girl’s now sobbing form to her in as comforting a way as she might.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ Ginger said, laying head close against Wren’s as she patted her softly on the back. ‘What’s all this?’ She stepped back, holding the girl at arms’ length as she searched her face for answers. ‘It’s not that old nosey-parker, Miz Rosebank, is it? Her and her wanting to tell your old landlord where you and Tim have got off to . . . is that what’s got you bothered? You know we won’t let anyone bother you two, if that’s what’s got you worried.’ It was a big thing to promise, she thought, but Cook would take care of it, she was sure.

She led Wren over to the table and sat her down in one of the chairs. Ginger fetched her a clean, wet washrag and linen dishtowel for her face; then, brought a small pitcher of cold cider and two mugs back to the table. Sitting down near the girl, she took the towel and wiped away the rest of the wetness.

‘There now – that’s my bright eyed beauty,’ she said, using a phrase her Gammer had used on her when she was little and the tears had taken her. She put the first two fingers of her right hand beneath the girl’s chin and lifted her face up for a smiling inspection. Offering Wren a small mug of cider, Ginger picked up her own cup and took a swallow. ‘Or is there something else has put a burr under your blanket. Someone else as has upset you?’ She sat back a little, giving Wren some space to in which to answer.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim was overwhelmed by the enthusiastic response of the Inn’s patrons to his proposed contest. A flurry of feet carried an army of hands out into the yard and the mugs were soon being piled up upon the restored bar with such rapidity that he had no hope of keeping score. Oh dear, he began to worry, however am I going to decide who the winner is? Will I have to give a cask to each of the helpers? A quick count showed him that even this would be impossible.

A silence fell on the yard as the last of the mugs were placed upon the bar and all eyes turned to Fordogrim for his decision. A bird called in the distance and the sun shone down upon the crowd as though she too were expecting a free cask of ale. Fordogrim put on a brave face and stepped forward to meet the crowd. He held his chin up (the better to look into their faces) and with practised nonchalance began to address them. “My friends and customers!” he said. “There’s not words enough as can express my gratitude for your help, so as I like to say, when words fail let the beer do the speaking! Step up for your free sample of my wares!” But there was a chorus of voices from those who wanted to know who had won the mug stacking contest, and thus the free cask of beer. Fordogrim smacked his forehead with an apparent display of absent-mindedness. “Why, yes, of course the winner of the contest. Why it was a well-fought battle, and there’s no mistake – there wasn’t but a few of you who stacked a right amount of mugs. And to tell the truth, but it was such a race that I found it that hard to keep track of who it was who stacked the most.” A ripple of unhappy surprise – even some anger – went through the crowd, but Fordogrim pressed ahead as though nothing were wrong. “Have no fear, no fear, we can determine a winner yet. Most of you had the good sense to stack your mugs together, so if we can rest upon the honesty of the good folk gathered here we can lay this to rest right fair and square. Now, as far as I can tell there’s three stacks as are the tallest – who is it as made them up?”

It was quickly determined that the three stacks in question were the work of a Dwarf named Ibun, the hobbit Robin Sandheaver and a lass named Rowan. At Fordogrim’s rather dramatic insistence the three finalists stood forth. “Now,” he cried “we shall a-count the number of mugs in each stack to determine the day’s winner!” But at this there was an outcry from some of the crowd that Ibun and Rowan had been helped in their stacks by other folk, while Robin had made his on his own. Fordogrim saw which way the wind was blowing and raised his hands. “My friends, my friends, please…PLEASE! This is a friendly Inn, known throughout the Shire for its conviviality” (he threw that word in to slow the crowd down, most of whom would have to work it out for themselves) “let’s not a-ruin that reputation with harsh words. My beer is back for your drinking pleasure so help yourselves to it – drink up! In the meantime these three champion stackers and I will step aside and settle amongst ourselves who the winner may be!”

[Koobdooga]

‘No harsh words here, Master Fordogrim,’ said Ibun. ‘Seeing as how you’re so generous with your fine brew . . .’ He raised the mug that had been thrust upon him and took a long pull on the fresh and foaming beer. With an economy of motion he sucked the skiff of foam that rimed the edges of his mustache into his waiting mouth. ‘Yes . . . very fine brew, a right treasure! So much so, that I am carried away by its essence.’

A rumble began deep in his chest, and what sounded at first to be a hive of angry bees droning grew into a song:

So my friends, Mahal be with you,
And watch o’er you until
We can a' meet here together,
And our mugs we then refill.
We'll drink a health t’ absent friends
And make the beer and whisky flow,

So button up and aye be cheery
Take a dram afore ye go.
Button up and aye be cheery,
Drink a pint afore ye go.

He raised his mug again, and finding it empty looked round for another. Ibun chuckled as he grasped the handle of a full one a friendly hand had passed him. ‘The sort of treasure in fact that need be shared and not horded. I’ll drink my fill of your good beer, if you will; my belly will be all the cask I’ll need. Let one of the others take the barreled prize.’

Ibun nodded toward Robin and Rowan, and stepped back beside Frór. ‘If they argue long over this,’ he said in a low voice to his friend, ‘we Dwarves will have drunk the casks dry anyway. ‘Twill all be moot!’ He cast an interested eye back on the proceedings and accepted another refill.

[Celuien]

"What a pretty pickle you've gotten yourself into now, Robin Sandheaver!" the hobbit thought to himself. "You should've listened to your old Gaffer warning you against contests and such nonsense."

Aloud, Robin said, "No harsh words here either, Master Fordogrim. 'Twas quite a confusion in all the rush to help. And what else could be expected, seeing as how your beer is most excellent. I can't say as I rightly know who stacked the most mugs myself. But should I be chosen the winner..." Robin paused. He wanted the cask. But most of the hobbits in the room were his friends, and he didn't want to anger them either. He cleared his throat. "Should I be chosen the winner," he started again, "I'll share the cask with everyone here. They all had a helping hand in the business too."

Mourning the loss of a full cask of beer to himself, Robin withdrew and stepped inside the Inn to order a plate of warm rolls and honey. Stacking the mugs had been quite a job, and he was hungry.

[Folwren]

Wren looked down at the cold cider that Ginger had served her, shrugging one shoulder up as she prepared to make her answer. The hobbit’s guesses had been almost right all the way. “I wanted to tell Tim that that Mrs. Rosebank was here from Bree and had worked for that fellow-” she didn’t know their old landlord’s name nor what to call him- “because I don’t want to have to go back there, and I thought that she would want us to, even if she did say that we wouldn’t have to. But Tim didn’t listen to me and when I tried to get his attention. . .” her eyes wandered the kitchen briefly. “When I tried to pull him away, see - he was out helping with the drinks of some sort, and he didn’t want to stop, and when I wanted to tell him, he didn’t want to listen, so he pulled away and we fell over into the table and everything fell down and it all got ruined.”

She looked up at Ginger. “Will we have to go away now that we’ve done that and have been bad?” she asked in a small voice. “We didn’t mean to knock it over and make that mess. It was an accident, honest!”

[Huan]

From where she stood, Rowan could see her two friends, Talan and her twin, Gwyn, looking on from the edge of the crowd. Gwyn’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the still muttering group. The Hobbits who were not up for consideration for the cask were standing about in small groups, their glances resting on the three champions. Mugs of beer fueled their curiosity and the range of their opinion. Rowan saw Gwyn give her a quick shake of his head.

From behind her she could hear the voices of Gil and his mates egging her on to graciously accept the cask. Their thoughts were bent on a day off work and day of drinking and making music. She glanced up quickly again to where Gwynn stood, his brow cocked at her expectantly.

These fine folk . . . the mutterers . . . she could almost hear him say they will be our bread and butter tonight for our little show. Best we keep them on our good side, Rowan Foxburr . . . and the assurance of their pennies in our pockets.

‘Ah, my dear sweet darlin’ Gil,’ she said turning quickly as she made up her mind what to do. Much to his surprise, she planted a kiss on his one cheek, and a pat of her hand on the other. ‘Twould be best, I’m thinking,’ Rowan said, turning from Gil toward Fordogrim, ‘if we were to share the bounty of this cask with all our friends here . . .’ ‘Later, that is,’ she went on her voice growing louder at the groans of disappointment. ‘There’s enough to be had all around from the generous Master Fordogrim for now. And later, when my friends and I perform our little show in the Inn yard here, we can tap the cask and all have another mug or two.’ She smiled saucily out toward the gathered Hobbits. ‘You’re all invited, of course. And Gil and his group will surely be joining us to play and sing.’

Over the heads of the crowd she could see the glint of sunlight off Gwyn’s earring as he nodded his head and smiled at her.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim hid the sigh of relief that swelled his bosom at such a happy conclusion to what had appeared to be a disaster in the making, but at the same time he little liked the idea of being upstaged by these others. If there was to be a song made of this day he wanted to ensure that it would be a song about his own generosity and the glories of his beer. He snuck a quick peak at the casks remaining in the wagon and after a swift calculation decided that he could pull it off...just.

The crowd was beginning to move off, distracted by the apparent close of the display so he had to leap upon the wood pile and raise his hands above his head to gain their attention. "Why," he cried, "I have heard many fine things about the folk of this here Inn, but I must say that this display of gallantry and civility is well beyond what I could have expected. Handsome, I say it is, most handsome. And it seems only right to me that I reward all those whose handsomeness has done us credit. Miz Rowan, you and your friends here shall have a cask of my best stout -- dark it is, like the coming of night in summer; heavy with the promise of a relaxed evening with friends. You, my friend Dwarf, shall have to your own a cask of hearty ale -- drink it with but a cracker or two and it shall be like a full meal. And to the hobbit Robin (someone fetch him out and let him know) shall go a cask of my very best Gold: a lager so light and so crisp that it passes over the tongue like liquid gold and leaves the mouth as clean as water!" A general cheer went round the yard at his generosity. But Fordogrim was determined to make it one better yet. "And if I might second the opinion of Miz Rowan, might I suggest to all our winners that they set aside their casks for tonight so they can share them round with everyone -- for I propose that we declare tonight to be a Party Night, at which we celebrate the spirit of fair-play and friendliness that is so much part of this here Shire!"

[Arry]

‘Well, well, Gil Tussock,’ said Tomlin nudging his red cheeked friend with a sharp elbow to the ribs. ‘Looks as if this one has gone and kissed you first.’ ‘And isn’t that a first all round?’ he went on, winking at the Muddyfoot brothers.

Fallon and Ferrin, for their part, had their thoughts on the cask of stout that Fordogrim had mentioned. Ferrin, in fact, was licking his lips in anticipation of the dark, hoppy liquid. ‘Do y’think he might give us a taste now?’ he asked his brother, ignorant of the fact that Tomlin had spoken to him. ‘Just a wee tot . . . for comparison . . . to the Dragon’s stout.’

‘Don’t know about that,’ returned Fallon, watching Fordogrim balance himself on the loosely stacked woodpile. ‘Can tell you this, for sure, the man’s a right showman himself, now, isn’t he? Knows how to sell himself . . . and his beer. You know, he reminds me of . . .’

Further comments on the subject were interrupted by Tomlin, clearing his throat quite loudly. ‘Perhaps you two could help me get our . . . leader, here . . . moving?’ He nodded to where Gil still stood dumbstruck. ‘Our talents have been called on for tonight. We should pull ourselves together for a bit of practice . . . don’t you think?’

‘Pardon us, Miz Foxburr,’ Tomlin offered in apology for leaving her standing alone in they yard. ‘But best we’d warm up if we’re to join you tonight.’ Ferrin and Fallon stood to each side of Gil and had him securely by the arms. They were just leading him down the path to the Great Road when Ferdy and his Da pulled in at the gate with their cart.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Ferdy asked, jumping down from the seat. He waved his Da on, saying he would catch up to him in a few moments.

‘Whipped with a rowan switch,’ Tomlin quipped. ‘Fair bewitched,’ threw in Fallon. ‘Muddle-headed,’ laughed his brother. ‘We’re going down to The Pool to put together a playlist for tonight,’ Ferrin continued. ‘There’s to be a big party in the Inn yard. Come on along and join us, why don’t you? We’ll wait for you down the road a bit. Go tell your Da.’

Ferdy hurried on down the path and up the stairs to the Inn’s door. ‘A rowan switch,’ he muttered, puzzling over Tomlin’s comment. ‘Now what in blue blazes is that all about?’

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Of course it was an accident!’ Ginger looked as kindly at Wren as she could. ‘Now it’s true I haven’t know you or your brother for long, but from what I’ve seen, neither of you have a mean bone in your body. Things just got out of hand a bit. I’ll bet if we took a look out the front window, we’d see they’d already been put to right. No one’s going to make you and your brother go away. And we certainly aren’t going to let anyone take you from here.’

There was a commotion in the common room, and Ginger got up to peek through the kitchen door to see what was going on. The room was all abuzz with the news of the party. ‘What party?’ she asked, stopping Ruby as she took a pitcher of ale to some waiting customers. Ruby stopped for a moment and told her the details of the mug stacking contest and what had been offered by the beerseller, Fordogrim Chubb. And how the players who come to the Inn last night, or rather the Hobbit lass with them, had announced they would be putting on a show this very evening . . . in the Inn’s front yard. ‘To be joined by Gil and his friends, too,’ she said winking at Ginger. ‘Ferdy, I’m sure, will be there.’

Ginger hurried back to the kitchen, her cheeks red, her eyes sparkling. ‘Oh, Wren! I’ve just heard the best news! The mugs and such have all been set in order and there’s to be a party this evening. No time for gloomy faces and worrying . . .’ She looked about the kitchen. The mutton stew was simmering on the hob, the rolls were rising nicely – almost ready for the oven. ‘We’ve got us some time before we have to start serving lunch. What say we run up to the attic and look through the old trunks that travelers left and never came back for? We’ll find us some pretty things to wear to the party.’

She grabbed Wren’s hand and hurried her up the back kitchen stairs to her room. There was a long corridor that connected to the attic on the other side of the Inn where the forgotten trunks and mathoms were stored. The sun poured in weakly through the dusty window. ‘You look through that one over there,’ she said, pointing to a battered basswood trunk. ‘I’ll give a look through this one.’

[Lilly]

‘Yes, Auntie, it’s me!’ Lilly called out as she closed the distance between herself and the two older ladies. She could see her Auntie Violet squinting against the sun and knew she was only guessing who it was that approached when she waved her hand.

‘Gran sent me,’ she went on as she stopped in front of Cook and Auntie Violet. Lilly set her basket down gently at her feet and drew off the checkered tea towel covering its contents. ‘We finished the plum preserves yesterday. And she wanted to wait til the wax set hard atop them before she’d let me load them up and bring them in.’

‘And don’t worry,’ she said, laughing at the disappointed face her aunt had put on since there was no mention the precious plum concoction coming her way. ‘Tomorrow, I’m to bring a little basket of plum preserves, and apple butter, and just for you one of Gran’s tasty pots of lemon curd. Da was able to pick up a few of those tart fruits. When he was at the High Hay market. A trader had a small sack of them brought up from round where the High King lives, a way down south there.’ Lilly grinned as Violet’s eyes glinted at the prospect of such tasty treats.

‘Mayhap we can go into the kitchen, Miz Bunce,’ Lilly said, picking up her basket once again and settling it against her. ‘My poor hip seems as if it has a groove cut into it from the basket. I’ll be glad enough to set this on your table!

[Gwyn ap Nudd]

‘Who up, there, Taffy! I believe we’ll be turning in here.’ There was hardly a need for Barnaby Stonecrop to urge his little dun colored mule to slow down. Taffy ambled in a decidedly unhurried manner toward the path leading to the Inn. Any slower, in fact, and the Hobbit and his cart would have stood stock still.

And no need to urge the mule to turn off the main road toward the Green Dragon. At the smell of oats and hay borne on the noon breezes from the stable, Taffy’s ears had twitched and none could have turned him from his target destination.

Barnaby, though, liked to feel he was in control. And so he continued to call out direction to his four legged companion. He had learned at least to save himself from too much frustration, by anticipating what Taffy was going to do and then telling him he must. It was a workable relationship.

When they’d neared the Inn proper, Barnaby called a halt and hopping down from the seat, handed the reins to one of the stableboys. ‘Some nice sweet hay,’ he instructed the lad. ‘And a little oat mash, if you will.’ Taffy nodded his head as if to agree with his master. ‘And if you’ve time could you comb and brush the old fellow. We picked up a few burrs along one of the narrower paths we took.’

Barnaby trudged up the few stairs to the Inn’s porch and pushed open the door to the Common Room. The dimmer interior of the Inn was an abrupt change from the bright noon light, and he stood for a few moments, blinking, as his eyes adjusted. His belly grumbled low in anticipation of the good food he could smell cooking in the kitchen. And his mouth watered at the sight of mugs of foaming ale being tipped up and drained by Hobbits and others as they sat relaxing at their tables.

He made his way straight to the bar and soon was wrapping his own fists round a mug of pale golden ale. He leaned his back comfortably against the bar top, and looked about as he sipped the gratifying brew. News of a party to be held that evening buzzed about the room.

Barnaby saw a fellow he thought he knew, just tucking into a plate of rolls smeared with honey. Not wanting to intrude on the Hobbit's meal, he smiled and nodded in greeting.

[Celuien]

Robin finished the last of his rolls and pushed the empty plate aside with a sigh of contentment. The cook certainly did have a knack for baking. He must remember to send his compliments.

A cheer went up in the Inn yard. "Fordogrim must have chosen a winner," Robin thought. "Best go and see what's happening." Even as he moved to open the door, it flew ajar with the suddenness of a summer thunderstorm, nearly colliding with Robin's nose!

"Careful now!" cried Robin. "No need to go about in a rush, knocking folk off their feet." For he had needed to step back when the door opened and almost fell over a chair close behind him. "What's all the excitement?"

"Goodness, but I'm sorry, Robin. You're not hurt?" came the breathless reply. Robin shook his head. Before he had a chance to answer, the words went on, "What a generous one that Fordogrim is! A right fine sort. I came to tell you. He gave a cask to all three champions. Stout for the lass, ale for the dwarf, and Gold for you. And, what's more, there's going to be a party tonight!"

Robin could hardly believe his good fortune. He lept into the air in delight. "Hurray for Fordogrim!" he shouted. "Hurray for the Green Dragon! Hurray!" And out to the yard he went to see about helping with preparations for the upcoming festivities.

[the guy who be short]

Éodear looked around with increasing panic. This didn't look like Bree. This didn't look like Bree at all.

Why oh why hadn't he stuck to the North-South road?

Infact, why hadn't he taken a map?

Or, for that matter, provisions. He hadn't dined properly for days, and had only been discouraged from eating his horse, Lassemista, by the realisation that this would somewhat hinder his pace.

Well, he thought, at least it's civilisation. That means food.

Thus, Éodear found himself at the entrance to the Green Dragon Inn in Bywater, as the stableboy had placed it. Not wishing to appear a complete imbecile, Éodear had smiled politely, nodded, and wandered to the door.

As he opened the door, the smell of freshly baked bread invaded his nostrils. He almost broke down into tears. Food! Shelter! Ale! Food! And was that a fellow countrywoman at the bar? He took a seat near the door, and started emptying his pockets in search of anything that could pass as currency.

[Dunwen]

Still shaking her head in amazement at finding the Woodlock children safe and sound at the Green Dragon, Widow Rosebank went downstairs and into the Common Room. It was shortly before lunch, and the room was filling up with hungry customers, while a combination of delicious odors permeated the air. They leaked out through a door to one side; somewhere behind it was undoubtedly the kitchen. And in the kitchen would be the inn's Cook, one Miz Bunce, whom Widow Rosebank had been directed to speak to.

Focusing her mind on her main goal, business, the Widow barely registered the happy chattering around her about "a party tonight" and "free ale". Ebba Rosebank regarded her drygoods business not only as a livlihood for herself and her family, but as a challenge and a pleasure. Nothing made her happier than to present her customers with just the right cloth for their needs, or to see someone's face light up at the sight of a perfect gift for a loved one. She enjoyed the chance to handle the few luxury materials her customers required, too. She believed in dealing fair with folks, and the Bree-folk, Big and Little, knew that they could get good value for their silver at Rosebank's Drygoods.

Lately, however, Ebba had started listening to the tales of the travelers who came through Bree and wondering what it would be like to see a Real Mountain or the Great River away in Gondor. She was sure she was too settled to travel far, but if she could do a bit of business in the Shire once or twice a year, that might get her out her rut. This Fair at the Green Dragon sounded like a fine way to introduce her wares. She hoped it would all work out, but first she must talk to the Cook.

While most Big People would have found the idea of getting permission for something from a Cook to be laughable or insulting, Ebba Rosebank was Bree-born and bred, and knew perfectly well the high regard Hobbitry had for good Cooks. Miz Bunce would take careful handling, especially right before a meal, but she had come prepared. She patted the pocket of her skirt, wherein rested a few items she thought might be useful to a skilled cook.

[piosenniel]

Lilly, Violet, and Cook

‘Here, lass! Let me open the door for you!’ Cook hurried up the single step and onto the small back stoop. Pushing open the kitchen’s back door she ushered the other two women in. Lilly, first, who made quickly for the table to deposit her basket and then Violet who walked more slowly, the tip of her blackthorn cane tap-tapping across the floor.

‘Go ahead and sit down,’ Cook said, motioning toward the table’s chairs. ‘I’ll just pop these pans of rolls into the oven so they’ll be fresh and hot for lunch.’ Vinca whisked the clean towels off the rolls and inspected the plump rounds of dough. Satisfied that they had risen to her satisfaction, she brushed their tops with melted butter and placed them on the oven racks.

She turned over the sand filled timer, then, and walked over to where the two women were talking. ‘Let’s see what you and your Gran have accomplished with this year’s plums, Lilly,’ she said, taking one of the wax sealed pots from the basket.

Lilly fetched a knife warmed in hot water for her to loosen the seal, and a spoon for the contents. Cook placed the big basket on the floor and had Lilly fetch a plate of scones left over from the breakfast meal.

Miz Violet, for her part, had her dark eyes fixed on Cook’s hand as she prised up the wax and then dipped the spoon into the thick, purple red concoction. ‘Oh my!’ Cook exclaimed, heaping a bit of preserves on a wedge of scone. ‘You’ve outdone yourselves this year! There are bits of toasted walnut in here, aren’t there? And isn’t that just the faintest hint of lemon I’m tasting against the sweet?’

She passed the scones to Violet and Lilly, sliding the pot of plum preserves across after she’d added just a wee bit more to her own flaky morsel.

[Folwren]

Tim was busy in the stables. Two new horses to be put up had arrived almost at the same time, and one of the riders had asked him to groom his mule. The animal needed it, too. He was hot and sweaty, particular where the harnesses of the cart had been. He had taken him to water first and had been just about to lead him into the stables when another horse trotted up. He tied the mule up quickly to the ring on the barn’s wall and hurried forward to take the horse’s rein’s.

Being thus occupied with them, he found himself unable to held Fordogrim Chubb with the ale as he had promised. Tim certainly intended on rushing back out there just as soon as he’d finished up in the stables and washed his hands. And in little time at all, he finished the job with the horse and mule, and headed back out. He took his place beside Fatty and began again to fill mugs.

---------------------------------------------------------

Wren, kneeling beside a large chest (compared to her), dug through the contents thereof. Her eyes were bright and she’d practically forgotten the trouble of a few minutes ago. There were other things to occupy her mind now.

“What sort of party is it, Ginger?” she asked. “Will there be dancing as well as music? There used to be dances in Bree that we would all go to. Tim and I would play with the other kids around there, who would all come. Do you think that Hanson and Woody who were here last night will come again?”

Ginger laughed at Wren’s excited chatter and pulled out a lovely looking dress that she had just dug out. “What do you think of this one, Wren?” Wren lifted her head.

“It’s pretty!” she said, smiling broadly. “I think you should wear it.” Ginger chuckled again and Wren turned back to her searching. A moment later, she bounded up to her feet, holding out a little, blue dress in front of her. “Look, look!” she cried, skipping excitedly to Ginger’s side. “This one might fit me perfectly!” It certainly did appear to be a well made, human child’s dress, and one that may fit Wren’s slight figure.

[Rose]

Rose paused for a moment at the rise in the road. She loosened the clasp of her russet colored cloak, pushing the hood back from her flushed face. It had grown warmer as she’d trudged along; the noontime sun was generous with its warmth and growing more giving with each step. Her short dark curls were in disarray from the hood and several stray ringlets lay plastered against her brow. She brushed them back with a hurried gesture and shrugged the front sections of her cloak behind her shoulders. Her worn leather pack lay snug against her back, another source of uncomfortable warmth.

The Green Dragon was very near. Just a very short distance and she would be turning up the path to the inn proper. And what was that happening in the front yard, she wondered. There were a goodly number of Hobbits with mugs in their hands and a number of casks round which they were gathered. Her deep blue eyes lit up at the sight. She was thirsty after her long morning's hike.

A short time later, the Hobbit lass had crossed the yard and climbed the steps to the little verandah. Two Dwarves sat in wooden chairs a little to her left. There were mugs in their hands she could see, and their beards wagged up and down as they spoke with one another. It was a funny sort of sight and she bit her bottom lip, holding back a laugh that threatened to escape. One of the Dwarves glanced her way and she looked away guiltily, hoping he had not taken her stare as rudeness on her part.

[Koobdooga]

‘Your pardon, Miss,’ said Ibun, rocking his chair back down so that it now stood on all its legs. He sat his mug down on the flat top of the porch railing and stood up. ‘Is there something we can help you with?’

The Hobbit lass’ stare and the blossoming stain of red on her cheeks as she turned quickly away made him curious. That and the hint of a smile she had smoothed from her lips.

[the phantom]

As Meri emerged from the stable, a small coin purse thudded into the dust between his feet.

"Be sure and keep my horse well, Stablemaster."

Meri looked up at the speaker. He was wrapped completely in a black cloak. All that showed were his fine black riding boots and his face. His eyes were grey, and a lock of black hair trailed down just to the left of his eyes and then curved back to disappear into his hood. He was fair of face, and tall, and the hilt of a sword showed above his right shoulder.

He dismounted with ease, and began walking with firm steps towards the door to the inn. Meri opened the coin purse and his eyes grew wide. "I promise I'll take excellent care of your horse!" he called after the stranger. The stranger turned, nodded, opened the door and disappeared into the inn.

----------

Ruby Brown ran straight into the stranger as he entered, spilling the two drinks she was carrying onto the bottom of his cloak.

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry! Oh sir, just-"

"If you wish to atone for your mistake just toddle off and get me a mug of whatever you spilled on me. It smells quite good."

Ruby nodded in agreement. "Aye- it does. It's fine ale, the best in the Shire if I may say so," she said as she produced a towel from the back of her belt and began mopping up the spill. "What's your name, sir?"

"Belegund," he answered as he removed his hood. "I come from Minas Tirith."

As he surveyed the room, he saw a man of Rohan seated by himself at a table nearby. "I'll be sitting at this table here near the door," said Belegund. "When you're done cleaning that up, bring me my mug of ale." As he spoke, he noticed that the man from Rohan seemed to be searching for currency. "On second thought, bring two mugs."

[Rose]

Well, here she was . . . caught out! Rose pushed down the urge to simply turn and flee. Taking a deep breath she faced toward the Dwarf who had addressed her.

‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ she began, her cheeks now thoroughly reddened. ‘My name is Rose. Rose Woolcomb of Bindbale Wood.’ She stepped nearer the two Dwarves. It was rude of me, I know to stare at you, but I saw you talking to one another . . . your beards wagging up and down as you did so. And it was such a familiar sight to me, or so it seemed, that I could not help but stare and wonder at it.’

Rose took a deep breath. ‘Oh dear, I’m not explaining myself very well. You see, my two grandfathers live with my family. And often at the end of a long day, they like to sit in front of the door to our burrow, in their sturdy wooden chairs, feet propped up on an overturned bucket or low oak round. They fill their pipes and smoke and drink their mugs of hard cider and talk til my mother calls them in for supper. Their beards, though, not as full and fine as yours, wag up and down in the same manner.’ She looked down at her feet, wondering if she had blathered on too much. ‘I’ve not been away from them often. I was missing them, I suppose. and seeing you two engaged in a familiar activity made me smile and think of them.’

[piosenniel]

The drinks are delivered to Master Belegund

Ruby hurriedly cleaned the ale from the floor and made her back to the bar. Buttercup was there, filling mugs for customers. ‘Two mugs of the stout, if you will,’ said Ruby, throwing her sodden towel in the basket beneath the bar. ‘For the gentlemen over there, who’ve just come in.’ She leaned on the edge of the bar as Buttercup filled the mugs.

Buttercup looked the two up and down, assessing them as possible good tippers. At least the one looked the part, the dark haired fellow dressed all in black with the sword at his back. The other one she noted was seated already and turning out his pockets, looking for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem to be having much success and a closer inspection showed her no coins in evidence. ‘Looks like the dark dressed fellow is standing a mug of ale for the other.’

Ruby loaded the mugs onto a tray along with a basket of bread with a wedge of Shire cheddar on a small plate tucked into it. ‘Compliments of the Green Dragon, Master Belegund. Don’t often get visitors from the High King’s city.’ She looked expectantly at the second mug of ale. ‘And will someone be joining you?’

[the guy who be short]

"That would be me, my dear!" Éodear replied to the hobbit lass. He smiled at her so jovially that she could do little but smile back, make a quick reply and leave him to talk to the mysterious stranger who was buying him a drink.

"I do thank you, sir," Éodear said. "I'm sure I had some silver pieces somewhere... oh, I don't know. Very good ale though, eh?"

The stranger, who named himself as Belegund of Gondor, replied that it was the best he had had in an age. For a short while, they sat together in silent contemplation of one another, sipping.

A few minutes later, Éodear broke the silence. "This is the first ale I've had in weeks, would you believe? It's most welcome." Belegund smiled. "Infact," Éodear continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I must say I've gotten myself a little lost. Was heading to Bree, you understand. Would you happen to know whereabouts this Bywater place is?"

"The Shire?!" he had cried incredulously, turning a few heads in the public house. "But then I'm far off course!"

[the phantom]

Belegund immediately took a sip and agreed with Éodear that the ale was of the highest quality. He made a mental note to leave a substantial tip for not only the quality of the ale but also for the speed with which it arrived. In the meantime, he flipped Ruby a silver coin.

"To King Eomer!" said Belegund, raising his mug.

"To King Elessar!" returned Éodear, clinking his glass against Belegund's.

After a long swallow, Belegund turned to Éodear. "Looking for Bree? Well, just follow the main road east out of the Shire and you will be there before you know it. In the meantime, just sit back and enjoy your stay here. The Shire is a wonderful place." Belegund took another drink and sighed. "Very peaceful... I wish I could stay a bit longer- but duty calls, and so I must leave in the morning. It's a pity. I would've liked to spend some time getting to know that angel behind the bar over there. I believe I heard someone call her 'Aman'."

Aman caught her name and looked up from the drink she was pouring. Belegund bowed his head slightly and smiled at her.

[Koobdooga]

Ibun chuckled at the girl’s words. “Having a chin-wag” was what his grandmother called it when his grandpa and his friends would sit about and talk and drink. ‘No offense taken, Miss Woolcomb!’ Grinning, he looked toward Frór. ‘We’re certainly guilty of what you’ve described. And if we brought good thoughts to mind of your family, then all the better!’

His pipe had gone out, and he tapped it on the railing of the porch, letting the ashes fall into the flowerbed below. ‘Well, best you get on about your business and not let us hold you up. Perhaps we’ll see you at the party this evening. We’ll stand you to a cup of cider or of ale.’ He smiled and nodded at her. ‘Oh, here I go forgetting my manners. I’m Ibun Lodestone come from the Misty Mountains as you call them here, I think. And this is my friend, Frór, from the Iron Hills.’

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger took the little blue dress from Wren and looked at it with a practiced eye. There was a tear where the lace about the collar had come loose, and a small jagged rip near the back hem where it had probably been caught on something and yanked loose hurriedly. Neither of which problems could not easily be fixed, she told Wren. They’d also need to heat the irons and give it a good pressing to smooth away the wrinkles.

The girl took back the dress and holding it against herself was dancing about the room. It was then that Ginger noticed the state of her shoes. Now, were she a Hobbit girl, there would not need to be any consideration for this part of the dressing up. But the Big Folk liked to have something on their feet at all times . . . except in bed, she supposed, but then she had not the opportunity to have checked on that bit of information. And oh yes, the girl would need some tights of some sort; that seemed the Big Folk standard for wearing a pretty dress and nice shoes.

‘See that wardrobe over there,’ she said, drawing Wren’s attention to a tall sort of cupboard that stood in the corner. ‘That’s where we keep shoes and boots and such that the Big Folk have left behind. Why don’t you see if you can find a pair of party shoes to go with your dress?’

She watched as the girl climbed on a stool and opened the tall doors. ‘I think I’ve got a ribbon that will just match this blue color, down in my room. Open those drawers there at the bottom and see if there’s a pair of tights that can go along with everything. Or do you have a pair in your pack?’

Ginger started toward the door. ‘Come down to the kitchen when you’ve found what you need. I’ll just mend the dress real quick and get it pressed. After we serve lunch and clean up, then I’ll help you polish up the shoes you’ve found.’ She nodded at Rose, motioning for her to continue the search. Then down the stairs she went to ask Cook for the loan of her sewing basket.

[piosenniel]

The bright coin tumbled end over end in the air, catching the light as it arced upward, winking at Buttercup as she watched it descend and fall easily into Ruby’s ready hand. ‘I did pour the ale for those two,’ she said, her eye on Ruby’s closed fist as she walked back to the bar where Buttercup stood.

Ruby laughed at her friend, standing there hands on hips, and expectant look on her face. ‘Aww! You know I’ll share with you, dear heart! But isn’t it nice to have a bit of silver of my own in my fist!’ She gave the coin to Buttercup who turned it over to have a look at both sides.

‘Must be one of those new ones the High King’s put out,’ Buttercup said, looking closely at the side view of some man’s face on the one side and a tree with stars on the other. ‘Pretty, it is.’ She hefted the coin in her hand, feeling the slight weight of it. ‘Wonder how many silver Shire pennies it’s worth?’

The needs of the customers in the inn were at a lull for the moment. The two Hobbits leaned their elbows on the bar top and surveyed the room. ‘Think he’s some sort of noble fellow,’ Ruby asked, nodding slightly at the man all in black. ‘Dunno,’ said Buttercup, giving him a critical look. ‘Could well be. Looks more than those errand-riders we get in here once in a while. You suppose he knows the King?’

Several moments passed as they eyed Belegund. ‘And what about that other fellow? Did you catch his name,’ asked Buttercup.

‘It’s Eo- something or other. I couldn’t quite hear it all. One of those Rohan names, like Miz Aman’s friends, I’m sure.’ Ruby grinned at Buttercup as she continued. ‘That Belegund, now he seems seems smooth as silk in his manners, doesn’t he. But look at the Rohan fellow, he’s a bit twitchy, don’t you think?’

Further consideration of the two Big Folk gentlemen was forestalled as Cook called firmly from the kitchen door that it was time to get lunch ready to serve . . .

[Lilly]

Lilly and her Aunt help out

‘Can Auntie and I lend you a hand,’ Lilly asked, watching Cook bustle about the kitchen. Ruby and Buttercup had come in from the Common Room and were now going about the tasks Cook had assigned them.

Lilly washed up her hands and plucked an apron from the pegs by the door. ‘I noticed you had a batch of cookie dough setting here on the counter in that big blue bowl.’ She picked up the bowl and brought it over to the table. ‘Auntie Violet and I can spoon these out onto the cookie pans if you’ll just show me where they are.’

Buttercup pointed to the bottom cupboard where the pans were stacked and Ruby fetched them each a couple of spoons. ‘They’re spice drops,’ she told them, as Lilly tied an apron on her aunt. ‘Make them about walnut size and roll them in this pan of chopped nuts and sugar.’ She was about to give further instruction when Lilly smiled and said she thought Aunt Violet and she could figure out what needed to be done. Buttercup came over and led Ruby away. ‘Thanks for the help. And don’t mind her,’ she said, nodding at Ruby. ‘Sometimes she gets carried away with her instructions.’

Lilly put the bowl of dough and the bowl of sugary nut bits near her aunt. She gave them each a pan to fill and started spooning the balls of dough into the nut mixture and then onto the pan.

[Rose]

‘Pleased to meet you. The both of you,’ Rose said, a smile of relief on her face. Her apology, it seemed, had been accepted. ‘I’d be more than happy to share a mug of cider with you this evening. A party you say? Oh, that should be fun!’

A few moments of conversation passed in which Ibun explained what had gone on earlier in the Inn’s front yard – the ale from a Master Fordogrim, the accident, the contest, and the group of players who said they were going to entertain.

Rose excused herself once he'd finished talking, saying she had some business to conduct within. ‘I’ll see you both later, then,’ she said, giving the two a smile and a wave of her hand as she entered the Inn.

[Noinkling]

Notch views the room

The small brown, notch-eared mouse poked his head out from the hole. The Green Dragon seemed busier, noisier than on previous days. The great oaken door banged open and another two-legged entered the Inn. Another of the littler ones, the barefooted ones that lived around here. At least in comparison to some of the others who now sat at the tables, the female in the reddish cloak was one of the smaller people. But she looked a giant to Notch as he stared at her with his glittering black eyes.

Two men were sitting together now at one of the tables, sharing ale he thought and a basket of fresh bread (he could tell by the smell of it even from a distance) and that good, sharp cheese the cook kept locked away in her pantry. He watched them carefully looking for any crumbs that might fall to the floor as they talked and waved their hands about for emphasis.

One of the men, the darker one, had flipped something shiny and small into the air to the girl that worked here. It was pretty as it tumbled in the light. He knew where the girl’s bedroom was and pondered how he might snatch the glittery thing for his own nest.

News from the kitchen traveled on the air each time one of the busy servers went in or out. Notch twitched his whiskers as he took in the savory aromas of lunch. Stew with rich gravy and chunks of vegetables and meats. Warm bread, cheeses, and what was that tantalizing smell that drifted out just now. Sweet and spicy! He nearly fainted from anticipation. Spice and nut cookies, to be sure.

Notched pushed himself back into his little burrow at the base of the common room’s hearth and rooted about in his little larder. An apple core, still fairly fresh, caught his attention. Holding it between his paws he began to nibble on it in earnest. His tiny belly was making its demands known with its grumblings, and he thought perhaps a bit of apple as a snack would tide him over til he could make the rounds of the room later, unseen and unhindered.

[piosenniel]

Notice of time moving ahead in the Inn

It's now noon or a little after in the Shire. Lunch is being served:

Savory mutton stew with vegetables, taters, and barley; warm rolls straight from the oven with sweet cream butter, jams, honey, cheeses; and baskets of big, nut & spice cookies to fill in any of the hollow spaces. Drinks of all sorts are of course available.

~*~

It would be nice to have some volunteers to take tables and chairs out to the front yard to set up for the party later this evening . . .

[piosenniel]

Cook speaks with Ginger

‘Now what were you wanting, Ginger?’ asked Cook, as she dropped in a last pinch of salt and added a grind or two of pepper to the mutton stew. ‘’Hand me that bowl of steamed peas, won’t you.’ She stirred them into the stew, saying how she preferred her peas a bit on the crisper side, not mushy.

Cook wiped her hands on the towel tucked into the apron strings that wrapped about her waist and tied in front. She took the blue dress from Ginger’s hands and took a good look at it. ‘Won’t take long at all to get this mended.’ Her eyes lit up as she handed it back to Ginger. ‘And won’t little Wren look lovely in it!’

She opened the heavy door to the oven and pulled out the last pan of rolls. ‘Here, now,’ she went on, placing the pan on a rack to cool. ‘You go ahead and lay the dress out on my bed. I’ll get the sewing basket for you once lunch is done and you can get it mended. The kitchen’ll be quieted down by then and we can heat up the irons.’

Cook looked closely at Ginger. ‘And have you given a thought yet as to what you’ll be wearing to the festivities? Will it need a bit of pressing, too?’

[Undómë]

Teluyaviel turned back to Illidan with a smile on her face. ‘We’re not so far from our home. At least our new home.’ She turned to her brother, Tindomion, and smiled again. ‘Our parents moved us to Mithlond. They’re bound for the West. I wanted one last visit to these fair lands. To the new Ithilien, where I’ve heard many of our people have gone to settle.’

Outside the window, near where they sat, Telu saw a number of Hobbits and Men arranging tables on the lawn. ‘Look!’ She put her hand on Tindo’s arm, drawing his attention to the scene outdoors. ‘What are they doing?’

A voice from behind , one of the servers who’d brought a refill for their mugs, spoke up. ‘It’s a party, Miss. This evening. With music and singing and dancing. And plenty of ale, of course.’

‘Oh! We’ll go of course. Won’t we, Tindo?’

Tindomion, for his part, sighed and waved his hand at her in a manner indicating they would.

[Pivli]

The cookie dough was soon all made into cookies and had been put in the oven to bake. Violet took Lilly out into the common room, saying that it might be best if they left the kitchen to Cook and the servers until after lunch was done.

They found a table near the fireplace. Violet enjoyed the heat of the flames; they warmed her aging joints and kept the chill from her spare frame. Buttercup came over to take their orders. ‘A small bowl of stew for me, dearie,’ Violet told her. ‘And what about you, Lilly? My treat.’

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=10581) which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

It's now noon or a little after in the Shire. Lunch is being served:

Savory mutton stew with vegetables, taters, and barley; warm rolls straight from the oven with sweet cream butter, jams, honey, cheeses; and baskets of big, nut & spice cookies to fill in any of the hollow spaces. Drinks of all sorts are of course available.

~*~

The day is pleasant and sunny.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

With the gifting away of three casks to the winners of the contest, Fordogrim was soon out of beer to give away for free. Luckily for him, the gathered crowd had drunk deep and were well satisfied -- even for hobbits. Several of those gathered about had taken perhaps a bit too much of the beer and these soon fell asleep on the grass. For his part Fordogrim took out his pipe and filled it with the best Old Toby. As soon as he had it in full blow he turned to his cousins and directed them to pack up the bar and utensils. "Now Master Tim," he said turning to the lad. "You've been a right good help today and no mistake. A fine fellow for all that you're a bit clumsy now and again, but let bygones be bygones I always say, and as I said I shan't mention it again. Now, if you could just help us tidy us away this last bit of mess I shall be glad to a-give you a silver coin for your trouble." The boy's eyes went wide at the offer and soon he was helping the three hobbits stack mugs and empty casks into the cart.

When they had finished, Fordogrim sent Gerdy and Fatty to stow the three casks that had been set aside for the party. Turning to Tim, he then suggested that they go in for some lunch, as the smells coming to them from within were setting their bellies to sound. As they crossed the yard Fordogrim turned to Tim once more. "Tell me now about that lass as you were tussling with. Is it some trouble as is none of my business or perhaps it's something that I can be useful with?"

[Lilly]

The Common Room was filling up with hungry customers eager for lunch. Lilly was glad she and her Aunt Violet had been able to get a table to themselves. But now she felt just a little guilty, seeing yet another Hobbit enter the Dragon’s door and look about hopefully.

A young woman, about her own age Lilly thought, stood blinking in the entry way, her eyes not yet accustomed to the dimmer light of the room. ‘Would you mind Auntie,’ Lilly said to Violet, pointing out the girl in the russet cape, ‘if we invite her to our table. It doesn’t look as if she knows anyone here.’

Violet gave her the go ahead, saying she would just stay seated and look after the table. Lilly got up quickly from her chair and went over to where the lass stood. ‘Begging your pardon,’ she said, touching the girl lightly on the table to draw her attention. ‘My Aunt and I are sitting over there by the fireplace.’ She waved at Violet who smiled and gave a wave back. ‘My name is Lilly. Would you like to join us for lunch? We’ve an extra chair.’

[Folwren]

“Tell me now about that lass you were tussling with,” Fordogrim requested as he and Tim approached the inn. “Is it some trouble as is none of my business or perhaps it’s something that I can be useful with?”

“Well,” Tim replied slowly, scratching his head, “it’s hard to say. I don’t rightly know what Wren wanted. She’s my sister, you know. And she wanted to say something, but I was busy with the ale, and I’m sure it could’ve waited. But she didn’t think so. You see, sir, we’ve just come here yesterday evening. . .” he told Fordogrim a brief version of their story while they entered the inn and found two empty places at a table - about leaving Bree after their parent’s deaths, traveling all the way here without finding any place to stop for good, and then arriving at the Green Dragon and then the stablemaster’s accident this morning and how he somehow got asked to help with the stables until the hobbit had recovered.

“Everything is well and fine now, and I have no idea what was so urgent that she had to come barge in and interrupt me. I doubt anything was. She’s excitable, you see? And probably just had something exciting to tell me.”

It was possible that’s all Wren had to tell, he told himself. But maybe not. She did have a look of fright on her face, and she had run off in tears. . .something must have been wrong. But Tim pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He had to justify himself, because, really, it wasn’t his fault. It’s couldn’t have been. . .

[Rose]

‘Very pleased to meet you, Lilly!’ Rose smiled at the invitation and gave a small wave back to where the older Hobbit sat. ‘My name is Rose Woolcomb,’ she went on. ‘I’d be glad of a place to sit down for a bit.’ Rose followed along after Lilly as she led the way back to the table.

There were lovely aromas issuing from the kitchen, whose door was propped open now as a stream of servers issued forth bearing trays piled with baskets of bread and bowls of mutton stew. Rose’s belly was grumbling loudly by the time the two girls neared the older lady.

[Pivli]

Violet tapped the chair to her left with her walking stick and bade Rose sit down. ‘Rose Woolcomb, you say,’ she said looking at the dark-haired lass. ‘I knew some Woolcombs. Lived up north a ways. Raised sheep.’

She cocked her head and looked closely at the girl’s features. ‘Would you be related to them by any chance?’

A server came by and left the ladies a generous basket of big, warm rolls along with butter and jams and honey. Three heaping bowls of stew soon found their place before each of the Hobbits, as well as a small pitcher of cider and three mugs. Violet could see that Rose was hungry, and Lilly, too, was looking with anticipation at her steaming bowl.

‘Go ahead, girls. Let’s dig in. Cook’s mutton stew smells wonderful and knowing her, I’m sure it tastes even better.’ She dipped her spoon into her bowl and popped the savory contents into her mouth. ‘Lovely! Just lovely!’ She chewed for a few moments, letting the flavors of the meat, vegetables, and spices play on her tongue. ‘Why that old fox!’ she said smiling, once she’d swallowed the tasty mouthful. I believe she’s put a wee bit of fennel in! Just enough to give a nice little aftertaste.’

[Dunwen]

In the common room, Widow Rosebank noticed a lull in the lunchtime orders. Taking her chance, she slipped carefully through the door leading to the kitchen. That room was typically busy, even during a slow time. Three hobbit-women were busily engaged in several tasks all at once: boiling water for the inevitable washing up after lunch, taking new orders out, ladling the savoury-smelling mutton stew into bowls, slicing cheese, putting warm golden rolls onto small plates, bringing serving trays of dirty dishes in from the common room and piling them into a large dishpan. The center of all this activity was an older, sharp-eyed hobbit woman who clearly was in charge. Even if one of the servers had not addressed her as ‘Miz Bunce’, the Widow would have known who she was.

The Bree-woman had a few seconds to observe that Vinca Bunce was a capable, no-nonsense hobbit who ran her kitchen with firm hand. The older hobbit was taking some spice-scented cookies off a sheet while directing her young assistants with the aplomb of a general. Widow Rosebank paused for a moment, but told herself to get on with it.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke clearly enough to be heard over the clatter of crockery and the conversations between the hobbits. “Good day, everyone.” A startled silence fell as the hobbits looked at this newcomer. Widow Rosebank nodded towards Vinca and continued, "Forgive me for intruding during lunch, but I've traveled a ways and have a question for Miz Bunce about this Faire you've got coming up. It might take a bit of time to explain, but I'd be happy to help out while I talk, if you'll hear me out." She gestured to a pile of dirty dishes waiting by a wash tub. "Perhaps I could wash those for you."

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger’s head snapped about at the sound of Miz Rosebank’s voice. With all the commotion about the party and the search for a suitable dress for Wren, the previous news about the widow from Bree knowing Wren and her brother had been stuffed away in some far nook of Ginger’s mind. With dawning horror, she remembered Wren talking about her fears – now that someone from Bree had found them out, would her brother and she have to go back?

‘You puddin’-head!’ she admonished herself. ‘What if she just wants to spy on Wren and Tim? The Big Folk do have some strange ways. What if she’s going to try and make them go back to Bree? What if . . .’ Being a youngish Hobbit, Ginger’s thoughts at times bordered on the wildly melodramatic. ‘Best you tell Cook what you know about this Miz Rosebank.’

Before Cook could respond to the woman, Ginger grabbed up a fresh dishwashing cloth and stepped up quickly to Miz Rosebank. ‘Oh, my gracious,’ she bubbled with all the enthusiasm she could muster. ‘That would be a great help to us!' Ginger looked at Ruby and Buttercup both of whom had raised their brows slightly at her, but quickly nodded their heads ‘yes’. ‘If you really don’t mind, that is. You see . . . there’s a party this evening, and the sooner we get all the chores done about here, the sooner we can get ready for it.’ She gave her most ingratiating smile to both the woman and then to Cook. ‘Many hands make light work. And quick work, too, or so my Gran says. And you and Miz Bunce will have more time to talk about the Faire, too. You did say it would take some explaining.’

Ruby and Buttercup had come up by then with a clean apron and a towel to tuck in the ties. They offered them to Miz Rosebank, both of them casting glances at Ginger and then at Cook.

Ginger left the other two Hobbits to get the woman started and turned a pleading face to Cook. ‘I just remembered Miz Bunce. There was a very important bit of information I was supposed to tell you. Some private business I was to let you know. Could we just step away for a moment?’

[piosenniel]

‘Begging your pardon, Miz Rosebank,’ said Cook, her gaze fixed on Ginger. Vinca’s brow was furrowed, and she had half a mind to remind Ginger whose kitchen it was and who decided who did which jobs. But the lass seemed frantic to tell her something. Though what could be so important that one would treat a guest of the Inn as one of the staff was something she could not fathom at the moment.

Her glance drifted to Buttercup, whose eyes went wide and shoulders shrugged at the implied question. ‘So it’s not something Ginger has told the other two.’ She could see Ruby offering to help the woman put on the apron.

‘I’ll just settle up this matter with Ginger and be back to speak with you.’ She looked at the woman’s hands. They seemed to have known their share of work. ‘If you don’t mind helping with the washing up, we’d be glad to accept your offer. And then perhaps when the serving up is done and the leftovers stored in the pantry, we can sit down and have a talk about the Faire.’ She was curious to know what the woman from Bree would bring to the event.

‘Come along, then, Ginger. We’ll just go down to the root cellar and get us out a basket of taters for supper. She suppressed a smile as Buttercup groaned quietly behind her. Peeling taters was not one of her favorite tasks.

~*~

As they scooped up taters in the dim light cast down the stairs from the cellar door, Cook questioned Ginger about ‘the message’. The words poured out of Ginger all higgledy-piggledy and Cook had to stop her several times to sort out the main concern. In the end, she had put it together about Miz Rosebank and Bree and Tim and Wren. And Wren’s fears, too.

‘Well, of course we won’t let anyone snatch them away from us,’ Cook said, in an attempt to allay Ginger’s worries. ‘But I’ll need to sort this out with Miz Rosebank. If they’ve got any family, it might be a different story.’

The two of them managed the heavy basket up the stairs, and set it down by the back yard pump. Ginger was instructed to wash the taters and scrub them thoroughly with the stiff brush left hanging on the pump post.

Cook sluiced the dirt from her hands in the cold water and wiped them dry on her apron. Leaving Ginger to her task, she returned to the kitchen, thinking how best she might ferret out the information she needed.

[Dunwen]

While she was thankful not to have been shooed out of the kitchen immediately, Widow Rosebank was surprised when Ginger made such a to-do about welcoming her help, instead of waiting for the Cook to give permission. Such doings in a hobbit kitchen were rare as hen's teeth! She herself didn't make a move until the Cook accepted her offer to help with the washing up.

"I'd be happy to help," she replied with a smile. As the Cook left with Ginger -- the girl obviously wanted to talk about her with Miz Bunce, probably worried that she might complain about their small collision upstairs -- she took the apron offered by one of the hobbits. The widow tied on the bright yellow apron, pleased to see that it was human sized. Then she moved to the dish-laden wash tub. Adding more hot water from the kettle, she picked up a dishcloth and slung a towel over her shoulder. Luckily, she was short for a human, scarcely over five feet tall, so felt fairly comfortable moving about a hobbit-sized kitchen. After carefully clearing a space near the washtub for clean dishes, Widow Rosebank got to work.

As she washed and dried, she introduced herself properly to the other two hobbits, and found out their names were Buttercup and Ruby. Both hobbit-lasses chattered excitedly about the party to be held that evening as they went in and out of the kitchen, but did manage to ask a couple of polite questions about the widow's presence in the Shire. They both pricked up their ears upon learning that she was a drygoods merchant. In turn the widow learned a bit more about the Green Dragon and Bywater. She worked steadily and soon had a neat pile of spotlessly clean dry dishes ready to be used again. As she added more hot water to the dish tub and began washing another batch of dishes, Widow Rosebank waited for the Cook to return and rehearsed what she wanted to say.

[Tevildo]

Tevildo balanced precariously on the window ledge and arched his back so that his muddy white fur fluffed upright, making him look like a dirty snowball. Extended first one paw and then the other, he leapt gracefully down to the floor. He was still quite sleepy. He had spent most of the night caterwauling and prowling with other cats in the vicinity of Bag-end, searching for mice in the tool shed. The band of cats had made such a loud racket that Master Gamgee had finally emerged with hoe in hand threatending the noisey trespassers with extinction. Deep inside the burrow, Tevildo had heard the sound of a little one crying.

Not wishing to take on the authority of the mayor, the cat had taken off across the fields on a tear, returning to the safety of the Dragon, where he had slept most of the morning. Now he slunk along the wall that led towards the kitchen. As the door opened and one of the serving maids rushed through with a tray full of goodies, Tevildo slipped under the lass's skirts and skittled inside. For the moment, everyone's back was turned. Tevildo spied two fat smoked chickens that had been hung on a hook not far from the wash basin, just opposite a shelf full of dishes.

Seeing an opportunity he did not want to forego, the cat sprang up to the shelf and carefully threaded his way between the plates and the cups. Reaching the very end of the shelf, he could smell the sweet odor of chicken beckoning him forward. His mouth began to water and he licked his whiskers, anticipating the feast that was sure to follow. Gathering his body, he hurled himself expertly into the air, expecting to land on the shelf where the enticing carcass was hanging. But something unexpected happened at that point. One of the inhabitants of the kitchen raced up, and seeing what the cat was about to do, extended a broom in his direction. Tevildo let out a screech of indignation as his front paws slipped off the far shelf and he went plunging into the dishpan, miserable and wet. The water splashed up as one of the teapots flew out of the pan and crashed against the counter, shattering in several pieces.

[Farael]

Farael walks into the Red Dragon Inn looking tired and fairly dirty, as if he had just been back from the wilderness as he is still carrying his bow and carcaj over his shoulder. Being aware that his appearance is not in the least appealing, he looks for the Innkeeper, asks for a room and disapears towards the back.

A few minutes later, Farael walks back into the common room after taking a bath and putting on some fresh clothes. He looks around for familiar faces, but even though the room is far from empty, he does not recognize any of the many faces. With a tired sigh, Farael leans against the wall and waits to see what kind of activities are happening today.

[Koobdooga]

Farael is invited to sit with a Dwarf

The savory scents of mutton stew and fresh baked bread that drifted from a nearby window lured Ibun from the porch. ‘I’m going in for some food,’ he said to his companion, Frór, as he got up from his chair. ‘Good food, by the smell of it, too!’ He cast an eye at Frór who was just refilling his pipe. ‘I’ll just go in and get us a table, if you wish.’

The common room had filled up with hungry diners. The Dwarf managed to secure a table near the wall and was just giving his order to a passing server when he noted a man standing against the wall. ‘Wonder if he’s looking for a place to sit down and eat,’ Ibun murmured to himself. He caught the serving girl’s attention just as she had turned from the table and called her back.

‘See that fellow over there?’ he asked, pointing toward the man. ‘The one leaning against the wall down there aways?’ She nodded her head ‘yes’. ‘Well, why don’t you invite him to sit down here? There’s an empty chair. Tell him Ibun Lodestone of Khazad-dum would be happy to stand him a mug of ale.’

Ibun watched as the girl went off toward the man. ‘He looks to be an interesting fellow,’ thought Ibun. ‘I’ll just bet he has some interesting stories to tell.’

[Farael]

Farael smiled at the serving girl politely and followed her to where Ibun Lodestone was sitting. With another smile he bowed slightly for the Dwarf and introduced himself as Farael son of Hadar, from Gondor. He was delighted to accept Ibun's offer of a mug of ale and even happier to have someone to talk to, as he had spent quite a few weeks out on the forests. Farael was fairly curious about what a Dwarf from Khazad-dum would be doing in these lands; yet he had not dealt with Ibun's people very often, and he did not know if asking outright would be considered rude. So instead, after the usual small talk, he decided to tell his newfound friend a little about himself.

Farael had spent his last few weeks travelling at his father's request. After the war, his father had started a small busines, dealing with pipe weed for the most part. He had been sent to The Shire to get some of what his father had heard, was the best pipe weed in the Middle Earth. Yet Farael was not a merchant and the stories of the great war and the bravery of many of his people inspired him. On the way to The Shire, he had found what, he beleived, were the tracks of an Orkish party so he set off with his bow, some arrows and his faithful long knife. He followed the tracks until almost sunset but then - Farael looked into Ibun's eyes- the tracks stopped. "I swear to you," he said "The way the ground had been stomped on it could only have been Orcs, yet all of a sudden the tracks disapeared, without signs of a struggle or a camp being set up. I still cannot believe my eyes, but all I could do was go back and try to catch up with the rest of the convoy."

By the time Farael joined his convoy, it was too late. The convoy was attacked that same night but luckily no one had been seriously harmed. A group of bandits (human, that is) had attacked them and stole most of their money and goods.

Farael took a sip of his ale and nooded at Ibun "They went back to Gondor, but I decided to stay. I have now been walking around on the forests hoping I will find them. That way, I will come back to Gondor victorious rather than defeated." He felt silent now, waiting to see if the Dwarf would reply telling him his story.

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Frór opend his eyes, he was sitting alone outside the Green Dragon with an empty mug in his lab. He looked around and found his pipe lying on the ground, it was full, but had not been litt. "How strange, the tobaco is still warm. I must have dosed of for a second or two Frór mumbeld. You should indeed have been standing close to hear what the dwarf said to him self in this moment.

As he stood up a breath of air hit him, it was in this moment he realised that he indeed had fallen a sleep very suddenley. He had never finnished his ale and now his pants were soacked in it. Just pretent nothing happend and noboddy will notice, yes thats the key. Just ingore it, no problem Frór said to him self. The truth was that he infact was quite embarresed that he had fallen asleep with out finishing his ale. The thing with the pipe he could handle as he had not slept for a while, but to fall a sleep when you are holding a mug of some of the finest ale in middle-earth. He would be laughing stock in every dwarf dwelling from Erebor to the Blue Mountains.

What would Ibun not think of him, falling a sleep in his precens. A greater insult Frór could not think of as he stood there.

Frór picked up his pipe, mug and emptied both completley, as he stood there the smell of food from the kitchen meat him and what a delight full smell it was. As he stood there and dreamed of what fantastic dishes they might serve inside, he rememberd Ibun saying: ‘I’m going in for some food. . . Good food, by the smell of it, too!. . .I’ll just go in and get us a table, if you wish.

Frór was relived by this sudden return of memory, he did not insult his new travel companion and there might even be some food waiting for him inside.

No need to let the fine master Ibun and the food wait Frór spoke somewhat loud as he headed for the door. . .

[Koobdooga]

‘What new wickedness is this?’ Ibun wondered aloud. ‘Mahal take the one who brought those misbegotten spawns of darkness into being.’ He tapped his fingers against the mug of ale he held. ‘Surely they haven’t sprouted wings now, have they?’

Taking the pitcher of ale the server had left for them, Ibun topped off both their mugs. ‘Was this near the Shire you saw these tracks?’ he asked. ‘I, myself, traveled up The Greenway to Bree and then west on The Great Road into the Shire. It was just a month ago that I started out from the mountains and only a few days ago I came here. I saw no sign of Orc, nor was there any talk about the foul creatures.’ He shook his head. ‘This is bad news, indeed!’

The Inn door swung open before he could go on, and in walked Frór, his eyes blinking in the darker light of the interior. ‘Over here!’ Ibun cried across the busy room. He waved Frór over to the empty chair.

‘That’s my friend, Frór. From The Iron Hills. We’ve only just met this morning, but we found we’re traveling in the same direction, toward The Blue Mountains to the west. Now that the High King sits in Gondor and brings peace to his lands, we Dwarves are seeking those of our kin who left long ago when the Dark Lord (Mahal strike his hammer hard against him!) . . . when he sent his wicked creations against us. A number of them, or so we’ve heard, dwell in The Blue Mountains.’

Ibun broke off his conversation as Frór neared the table. ‘Sit down, sit down, my friend,’ he said to Frór, pushing out the chair for his with his foot. He nodded toward Farael. ‘This is Farael, son of Hadar of Gondor. He’s just come to the Green Dragon, like ourselves.’

The server who’d taken Ibun’s meal order was returning with her tray laden with three bowls of steaming mutton stew, baskets of thick sliced bread, a crock of butter, and cheese. She laid it all out on the table, along with a three spoons and knives. ‘I thought as how you were three now,’ she said in explanation to Ibun, ‘that I’d just go ahead and bring enough stew and bread and such for all of you.’

[piosenniel]

Cook goes after Tevildo in the dishpan

‘Good gravy!!! What is that infernal cat doing in my kitchen?’ Cook had just entered the back door to the kitchen, having left Ginger washing taters at the pump in the back yard. The old kitchen tabby, she noted, had inched her way far beneath the legs of the stove, trying to avoid the notice of the devilish feline.

Buttercup had snatched up a broom and tried to deflect the cat as he jumped to one of the shelves. And now the beast had lost its footing on the shelf it was aiming for and gone crashing into the dishpan. Water splashed up onto Miz Rosebank and out onto the floor . . . along with one of the teapots that arced up in an ungainly spiral and crashed against the counter.

‘My teapot! You horrid creature!’ A sudden fire flamed up in Cook’s eyes and she grabbed one of the big soup pots, intending to scoop up the sodden cat and make it captive with the pot lid. But the soap-sudsy water that pooled on the floor got the better of her as she hurried toward the sink. Down she went with a loud THUMP! . . .

[Farael]

After having some of the stew, Farael shakes his head "no, I don't think those orcs spouted wings. I don't even think they were orcs at all, but rather bandits. I believe they noticed me before I noticed them and somehow managed to go back to the trail without me noticing them." Farael sighed "And I know what happened is unusual, as my Lord The King has cleaned most of this lands from the evils of that one who was defeated and who's name I shall not repeat. Yes, highly unusual indeed." Farael went on to tell the dwarves, while absently nibbling at a bread slice, how he had spent the last few days on the forests, searching for any clues with regard to what had happened. Nothing was there to be found by him and soon he lost hopes, but came to the Green Dragon Inn for a well deserved rest before returning to Gondor.

Now his stew was starting to get cold and Farael noticed how hungry he really was, so he asked the Dwarves who had been giving the proper attention to their meals. "So tell me, my friends, how far away are these Blue Mountains you mention? this is my first trip to this side of the lands and I would like to see some more of it before going back home." At the same time, a loud crashing noise was heard from the kitchen and Farael turned around to see what had happened.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim led Tim to a table and ordered them some food. For some time there was silence as the Hobbit plied himself to the board and for such a little fellow he demonstrated that he lacked none of the legendary appetite of the Little Folk. As he finished his first small loaf the cousins came up from the cellar, puffing and blowing with their labour. With few words – even from Gerdy – they too sat down and put themselves to work. After they had each eaten three platefuls of food they sat back and sighed contentedly. Soon, their pipes were out and the fragrant smoke of Old Toby was drifting toward the rafters. Gerdy turned to Tim and offered him some of the pipeweed. The lad shook his head and politely declined, explaining that he was only a child and that it was not the usual custom for the children of Men to smoke. Gerdy’s eyes went wide with astonishment. “You don’t say? Well, that is to say, you don’t say that you’re a child…not that you don’t say that Men children don’t smoke, as neither do Hobbit lads and lasses either, if you get my meaning.” Tim assured Gerdy that he did, although it took some work. Gerdy smiled and pressed on. “It’s true that a good smoke is as pleasant a thing to have after a morning’s work as is anything – except maybe a bit of luncheon with a pint of ale, that’s good too – but there’s also true that a smoke is not a thing for a child to have. Hobbit or Man. Now why should that be?” His face fell into a philosophical air. “It seems as though to be young is something of a burden, it does. There’s the playing and the easy times, and the free meals and the care and the smaller clothes as you can keep dirtier, but then there’s the things as you can’t be doing: like going out at night by yourself – leastways, not without sneaking – and staying up at dances and parties, and beer, and deciding what to do with your day, and escaping punishment if you break something by accident, and….and….”

“And smoking?” Tim helped him out.

“Ay! And smoking! That’s the very thing!” cried Gerdy, having forgotten utterly his own point.

For his part, Fordogrim was oblivious to the conversation, his own eyes taking their fill of the comely lasses seated across the Common Room from himself. They were sitting with an older woman and through careful observation and delicate listening he was soon able to make out who they were. Violet, the eldest, was aunt to Lilly, the fairer of the two younger lasses…but perhaps not…for Rose was fair as well…he could not make up his mind. “Well,” he said aloud, “when you can’t decide, it’s best as to find out for yourself. Tim me lad!” he said to the boy, “you know that I’m not one to go reminding you of debts as are owed, so I won’t be mentioning the ruckus you caused with my wares and my bar. I only talks about it here so you’ll know as I’m going to ask you a favour and I want you to grant it or not without thinking for a moment about that other matter. You know I’m new to these parts and I’d be interested in making the acquaintance of some of the folk from hereabouts. Perhaps you could go on over to that table with those three ladies and ask if they’d be willing to join us here?”

[Rose]

The steam from her bowl of stew set Rose’s stomach to grumbling again. Trying to be polite as she could, she managed to get several bites down to quell the noise – quick, barely chewed bites which had hardly grazed her tongue as she swallowed them. In fact, she had hardly taken a breath in the space of these bites. But now, with the edge taken off her hunger, she took a smaller bite of stew and let her mouth enjoy the flavors.

‘I think you’re right, Miz Greengage, she does use a bit of fennel. My mum does that, too. Though mum’s recipe calls for a bit of fresh dill, and I can’t taste any of that in this stew.’ Rose reached for her mug and took a swallow of cool cider. ‘You had asked if I was one of the Woolcombs from up north. Well if by north, you mean Bindbalewood, then the answer is yes. And yes again to the sheep. In fact, that’s the reason I’ve come down to Bywater . . .’ She paused midsentence as a Hobbit at a table a ways away from her seemed to be glancing in an interested manner toward her and her companions.

She leaned forward, and whispered softly to Lilly. ‘That fellow over there,’ she nodded slightly in the direction of Fordogrim. ‘The one talking to the Big Folk child. He seems to be looking at us. Do you know him?’

[Lilly]

Lilly’s head bobbed up, despite the cautionary expression she read on Rose’s face. And there he was. She looked the fellow over carefully, noting he was neatly dressed and that about him seemed to hover a definite air of self-assuredness.

‘Can’t place him. That is, as far as name or where he’s from. But he does look like the fellow who was in the front yard a while ago. With barrels of ale, I think. And a very low table as I recall.’

She decided to one up the brewer. Looking directly at him, her blue eyes glinting with mischief, she gave him a quick smile. ‘Go on,’ she said, nudging Rose on the arm. ‘Call his bluff. Give him a look over.’

[Folwren]

Tim was still smiling at Gerdy’s way of carrying on when Fordogrim addressed him. He turned his attention to him. When Fordogrim expressed his wish of being introduced to the three hobbit ladies sitting a little way away, Tim found himself a little surprised.

“Well, I’ve not been here longer than last night, and I’ve never clapped eyes on them either,” he said. “But, if you want me to go ask them over, I can.” He glanced towards the girls. The two younger ones were speaking together and then one looked across. He couldn’t tell if she looked at Fordogrim or himself, but he guessed that she had her eye directed towards the hobbit. “It looks like I won’t have to do much convincing,” he said, getting up. “I’ll go out and see that everything is taken care of in the stables afterwards.” He nodded to Fordogrim and walked forward.

It never occurred to him in any light or form what a ridiculous proposition he was about to make. He found no reason to be embarrassed by the question he was sent to deliver, though had he been much older he might have. He did wonder why Fordogrim hadn’t asked them himself, but didn’t trouble with trying to figure out an answer.

The two young ladies at the table were aware of his approach as soon as it had come, and their older companion had noticed him before he stopped by the table.

“Excuse me,” he said, more for forms sake than to get their attention. He already had it. “Mr. Fordogrim over there,” he nodded his head in that general direction, “was wondering if you wouldn’t mind joining him for the remainder of lunch.”

[Pivli]

Violet glanced up at the boy as he approached. Her niece and their new dinner companion, Rose, were looking past the young messenger and at the original source of the message. Violet leaned forward a little, the better to hear what the boy was saying. At the same time she tapped her cane twice on the floor, drawing the attention of Lilly and Rose.

‘Mr. Fordogrim, you say,’ Violet said, looking over to where the Hobbit sat. Nicely enough dressed, she thought. There were two other fellows sitting with him, clouds of pipeweed smoke floating above their heads.

‘Well, now,’ she began. ‘It looks as if Mr. Fordogrim has finished his lunch.’ She looked at the three bowls on her table. She and the two girls were about halfway through their stew. ‘Perhaps we should just finish our lunch here, and then join him. Seems awkward, don’t you think, girls, to drag our half eaten food to another table.’

[Lilly]

‘Oh, Auntie!’ replied Lilly, her hand reaching out to pat Violet on the arm. ‘It won’t be awkward at all.’ Looking about she saw a server with an empty tray heading back toward the kitchen. Motioning her over, Lilly spoke low gesturing to emphasize her points, and soon the server had handed over the tray.

‘What do you say, Rose? Shall we pile our bowls and mugs and such on this tray, and join Mister Fordogrim for the rest of lunch? Auntie?’

[Tevildo]

As Cook lay indignant, sprawled on her back in an ungainly pose, Tevildo hunched down in the water, then twisted to the left, and gave a determined leap. He cleared the side of the dishpan with plenty of room to spare and landed deftly on the upper shelf, positioning his body right beneath the hook where the smoked bird still hung.

If truth be told, Tevildo preferred to kill his own prey, since birds dressed by the butcher were not quite as moist or succulent as those slaughtered on the wing. But, hungry is hungry! He'd had nothing to eat all morning. The mice had stayed curled up in their holes, frustrating all his efforts to come away with a tasty prize. Tevildo's stomach was growling ever louder, and he thought it best simply to accept what had fallen into his path

Seeing the resolute look in Cook's eyes, the cat decided to act first and think later so that he could manage to get away with his fur intact. With one last desperate leap, he reached up for the hanging poultry. Tevildo couldn't bring the whole bird down but he did succeed in getting hold of the left wing and, with a mighty heave, tore the appendage loose from the rest of the body and jumped down to the floor. For a moment he stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen. The smoked wing hung out one side of his mouth, as he stared quizzically about the room, searching for a means of escape. He suddenly spied a window that faced out onto the garden. Someone had propped it open an inch or two with the help of a flour bag. Squeezing through the narrow opening. he managed to wriggle his body outside along with his prized chicken wing. The only thing still inside the kitchen was the very tip of his puffy white tail. One more heave and he would be through to the freedom of the garden!

[Rose]

Rose looked from Miz Violet and back to Lilly. ‘My goodness,’ she thought to herself ‘the lasses down here in town were bold! “Forward” her Gran would say.’ She wanted to excuse herself from the whole venture, saying she had business to see to. But Lilly had been so kind to invite her to their table. And even Miz Violet thought it alright to go sit at the stranger’s table.

Stealing a quick glance at Fordogrim’s table, she caught him looking her way. She blushed and ducked her head as she turned quickly back to her lunch companions. ‘I suppose it will be alright,’ she said. ‘But I can’t stay long to chat. I really must see Miz Vinca Bunce about the Faire that’s coming up. Some business my mother’s sent me on.’

The tray was quickly loaded with bowls, baskets of bread, butter, honey, and jams, and cheese of course. Lilly led the way with Miz Violet following, her cane tapping along on the wooden floor. Rose brought up the rear, her eyes darting from side to side, in case any opportunities for escape might suddenly appear.

[piosenniel]

‘Get that misbegotten cat!’ yelled Cook. She lay on the floor gasping and flapping as she tried to raise herself up on the slippery boards. With an ungraceful heave, she turned to her belly and leveraged herself up to her knees.

Her hair had straggled out from her headband and she pushed it back with an authoritative motion – daring the curls to stray out of place again, almost. A figure whizzed by her, on the run, heading for where the cat and his prize were struggling to get out the window.

‘Grab the thief!’ she hollered again. And was rewarded as a hand clamped firmly about the puffy white tail.

[Folwren]

Wren had been left in an upstairs room, rummages through an old wardrobe in search of proper stockings and shoes for that evening’s party. It had taken her quite some time, for she tried on what pairs of shoes she could find and also sought for stockings that might match the dress Ginger had carried off with her.

After some time of such work, she finally found shoes that would fit at least decently, and stockings that would match. She put everything back where it belonged and closed all the drawers and doors and tops of everything and left the room as undisturbed as she and Ginger had entered it earlier.

She reached the bottom of the stair way and dodged across the common room as inconspicuously as she could possibly managed and pushed the kitchen door open carefully. The sight that met her eyes caused her to stop in the doorway where she stood. The door closed softly behind her and she remained rooted in her place.

The cook, who was no longer on the floor, looked absolutely furious, and she was wet, no less. Ruby was in the act of pulling a cat back into the kitchen through the window by its tail.

It had been Cook’s appearance that had first shocked Wren, but when her eyes clapped to the cat being dragged back against it’s will, her little heart went out to it and she started forward with a cry of indignation, dropping her burden as she went, her young eyes flashing.

“Don’t hurt the poor cat! Don’t pull it’s tail! Leave it alone! What did he ever do to you to deserve that treatment! Give him to me.”

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim stood up grandly from his table as the lasses approached with their grand dam, motioning to Gerdy and Fatty to rise as well. His cousins’ eyes were as saucers as they got to their feet, for they were bachelors both, and shy around lasses. Like most hobbits, they looked forward to settling down someday, but as yet their minds had not wandered too far from their work. For his part, Fordogrim enjoyed the company of a pretty maid but had little inclination toward marriage, enjoying, as he said to his friends repeatedly, “the leisure to eat my second breakfast and elevenses whenever and wherever I please, and the freedom of popping out to the local for an ale at any hour.” So it was with a purely aesthetic and somewhat disinterested enjoyment that he gazed upon Lilly and Rose as they approached.

Stepping forward from the table he dropped them a bow that would have been grand in someone of more normal height, but being as he was but barely 24 inches tall, it merely emphasized his extreme smallness. Standing erect once more he addressed the women in as polite a tone as he could muster. “Thank you very much for accepting of our invitation, ladies, for we are three strangers to these here parts. What is more, for all that we are unfamiliar with this part of the Shire, we’re all too familiar of each other, having spent so much time together that there’s little new to say. It will be a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” And with that he bowed once more. Before anyone could recover from this display, tiny Fordogrim leapt toward the extra chairs that Tim had smartly provided and held them out in turn for each of the ladies. As he seated them he introduced himself and his cousins (“This here is Fatty, whose name, you’ll note, doesn’t fit him – not yet at least, but we’re hoping to get him fed up on this trip a bit more! And this is his brother Gerdy – a right good worker, and as steady a fellow as you’d like to meet!”). When he had pushed in all three chairs (and spent, if the truth be told, a little longer doing so with Rose and Lilly than with Violet), Fordogrim sat himself at the table and called out to Ruby for more food, “so as we three can keep you three better company.”

When all were settled he turned to Lilly and Rose (whom he had quite cannily seated directly across from himself, the better to see their faces; Violet he had sat as his right hand, facing the cousins) and asked if they had heard of the party that was to be held at the Inn this night? “For,” he said, “it’s to be a grand affair in celebration of my very own ales and lagers. And there’s sure to be ever so much to do at it. Singing and people as meeting with one another…and dancing, to be sure!” And here he looked at the younger lasses with a decided twinkle in his eye.

[Gwyn ap Nudd]

‘Now just how did he manage that?’ Barnaby Stonecrop looked up from his lunch and watched the trio of women make their way toward the diminutive Hobbit and his two companions. ‘Some fellows just have all the luck!’

The older woman, he thought he knew, at least by sight if not by introduction. Mistress Greengage . . . Violet Greengage. Lives somewhere up near The Pool, as he recalled. And the light haired lass, he thought might be her niece. She was easy to remember, with her blue eyes, fair hair, and friendly ways. It was her, he thought he’d watched dance near every dance at the last Summer Faire.

The other young woman he could not recall seeing before. Her short dark curls framed a pretty face set with dark eyes that seemed to take in her surroundings in a reserved manner. He watched the two of them for a while, with sly glances toward their table.

Taking a hot bun from the basket before him, Barnaby slathered it generously with butter, followed by a thick layer of honey. He took a large bite and chewed on it thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if the two lasses will be at the party this evening,’ he thought to himself, stealing another look.

[Dunwen]

Widow Rosebank had been washing dishes when a broom had suddenly appeared over her right shoulder and a muddy mass of dingy white fur had dropped like a stone into the dish pan. Like a stone, it had sent a fair amount of dirty dishwater over the edge of the pan and onto her bodice and apron. The mass of fur started yowling and, resolving itself into a very unhappy-looking cat, leapt out of the pan (scattering yet more dishwater onto Widow Rosebank, this time getting her in the face).

At about the same moment, Miz Bunce had appeared, shrieking for someone to grab the cat, only to slip and fall in the puddle at the Widow's feet. For the second time that day, she was nearly knocked off her feet by a hobbit. Blindly catching herself on the counter, she did keep her feet, but nearly fell again when Ruby charged past, determined to follow Cook's order. More shrieks filled the air as little Wren Woodlock entered the kitchen and in the way of small girls, took the cat's part.

The widow, firmly on the side of orderly kitchens, was quick to come to Ruby's assistance. Stepping over Miz Bunce and Ruby, she firmly grasped the angry cat by the scruff of its neck and relieved him of his ill-gotten chicken. Handing the carcass to Ruby, who had let go of the tail once she saw that the culprit was firmly in the Widow's hands, she wrapped the furious animal up in her apron.

"Bad kitty!," she scolded. "Bad, bad, BAD kitty!" The unrepentant feline put its ears back and hissed ferocisously while trying to free a forefoot to claw her. "Pish, tush," the widow replied, wrapping her apron more tightly around the small wriggling body. "If you're going to be such a nuisance, you're going to get the trouble that comes with it."

The cat expressed his disdain for the widow's statement with a series of yowls and hisses and continued his attempts to escape. Disregarding this show of force, the widow tucked him firmly under her arm and looked about the kitchen. Ruby was protectively cuddling a smoked chicken. Miz Bunce was sopping wet and nearly shooting sparks out of her eyes as she glared about. She herself wasn't any drier, and was holding a loudly caterwauling cat in her apron. Wren was demanding the instant release of the creature. All in all, they looked like a collection of lunatics.

The Widow tried. She really did. This was just not the moment, she told herself firmly. But alas, she couldn't help herself. "Well, at least the dishes are clean," she said.

But she couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her. Or the one after that.

[Folwren]

Wren looked in disbelief at the Widow, laughing as if the whole thing was actually funny. The bundle of cat and apron under arm was still struggling like mad. Wren’s hands went to her hips and she stamped furiously, her foot splashing in the water still on the ground.

“Why don’t you let him go?” she demanded. “You’ll hurt him if you keep him like that - or suffocate him, or something. How dare you call him a bad kitty? He only took a bit of the chicken. And then for that, you haul him back in by tail and then pick him up and wrap him as though he were no better than one of the mice that he catches! And then you say that he’s going to get the trouble that comes with it! You can’t do anything to him. Let him go and leave him be!”

Whether it was her place or not to demand the cat’s freedom, Wren didn’t bother to think. Nothing could get her ire up faster and longer than the mistreatment of an animal and she particularly loved cats, of any shape or size. She was oblivious of the Cook’s evident dislike of this particular feline, nor had she been around long enough to know better than to get on her bad side. As for the Widow Rosebank, Wren was more inclined to speak sharply to the woman who’d given her something to worry about than not. So she stood staring up at the widow, a defiant and fierce light in her eyes - a look that did not often occupy Wren’s face.

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Frór tried to ignore what happend around him and continued the conversation with Ibun and Farael.

How far away the Blue Mountains is, you ask. It is a good question, I for one is not sure. If I recall correctly, I saw a map where it seemed that there is the same distance to the ancient city of Tharabad and the mountains from this part of the Shire. It should however be a plesant jurney as it will mostley go through the Shire

It will be nice with a safe and plesant jurney. Frór thought to him self, remembering what dangers he had endured on his jurney from the Iron Hills to The Green Dragon.

Is it your first time traveling in this part of the world Frór asked Farael before taking a drink of his ale.

[Farael]

Farael thought to himself that Dwarves were loosing their sense of adventure, as he heard Fror talking. His trip to The Shire had been as nice and safe as ever, up until the time he happened to leave the group. Surely there would be someone with a sense of adventure in The Shire. He still remembered the tales he had been told about the brave Hobbits during The War and secretly, he was looking forward to meet one of those adventurous creatures. Still, he smiled at his companions "Well, I must admit that this is the first time I have traveled so far from home. I served in The King's Army for some time yet the farthest I went as a soldier was Rohan. My father's reputation kept me from going anywhere fun..." his voice trailed off as he became lost in his thoughts. "But here I am, far from home in this lovely country. I'm sure soon I'll meet a good hobbit and run off to have the best adventures of this time."

Farael caught a sideways glance from Ibun to Fror after his last comment. "I know you must be asked this a lot, but do you happen to know the Great Gimli? My father talked to him once, he always tells how marvelled he was as he never thought dwarves could be so smart!" He sudenly notices that his audience is composed of... dwarves. "But of course, now we all know better."

Blushing and biting his lower lip, Farael makes some silence and stares at his bowl.

[piosenniel]

Miz Rosebank’s laughter was infectious. Cook could feel her wet skirt clinging against her legs and her hair, when she’d fallen, had come all unloosed from its band and was standing out all about her head, she was sure. Miz Rosebank had the wriggling little demon rolled tight in her apron and tucked firmly beneath one arm. She was splashed from head to foot and looked a sight herself.

And there was Wren, in the midst of all, protesting with great vehemence the capture of the cat.

Cook tried to put on an authoritative look, which was all but gainsaid by the muffled giggles that began to explode in little bursts from her. Rose and Buttercup looked at one another, recalling the only other time they’d seen her in this state was at one of the big weddings held at the Inn . . . after which at the party, Miz Bunce had enjoyed a wee bit too much of the exquisite pear liqueur one of the old gran’s had made.

After a few moments of hysterical laughter followed by a number of deep breaths, Cook pushed back the hair from her face and asked for Buttercup to bring her an empty flour sack. The hissing little beast, still wrapped in the apron was soon deposited in the sack and the open end tied shut with a generous looping of twine. Cook motioned for Wren to step near, and handed the bagged kitty over to her.

‘Here . . . take him out of the Inn and set him free. At the end of the grounds would be preferable. Just so long as he’s out of my kitchen. She motioned for Ruby to hand over the chicken. ‘Can’t really be serving guests food that a cat’s had his mouth on, now, can I?’ She handed the slightly mauled chicken to Wren, too. ‘Go on now, you and the little culprit. Feed him somewheres far away and send the little blighter on his way.’

As Wren now had her little hands quite full, Ruby opened wide the back door of the kitchen for her . . .

[Koobdooga]

‘The Great Gimli! Is that how he’s known among Men?!’ Ibun chuckled at the thought. ‘We know him as Gimli, son of Gloin, son of Groin. Of the line of Durin. A well-traveled Dwarf and a gracious host to those who visitors to The Glittering Caves, so I am told.’ Ibun pushed his empty bowl from him and sat back in his chair, mug in hand. ‘He was originally from the Blue Mountains, you know. Where we’re bound.’ He lifted his mug toward Frór. ‘I wonder if the Dwarves there recall his family? I’m sure they must. And will they know a son of theirs is now deemed –The Great?’

Ibun could see Farael blushing. ‘Oh, I’m only poking fun at one of my own . . . not you, you must know. What Men and Dwarves might think of as ‘great’ is most likely different, I think; though, the contact with Men I’ve had is less than the fingers of my two hands. We do hold him in esteem for opening up another place for his folk – the Glittering Caves. And even greater is our respect for the commerce he has grown between his realm and that of Gondor.’ Ibun’s eyes held a merry glint in them. ‘We Dwarves are smart enough in our own way – especially when it comes to lining our pockets and chests with the fruits of others’ labors.’ He chuckled at his less than affirming assessment of both Dwarves and “others”.

‘To answer your question in a more straight-forward manner – no, I’ve not met Master Gimli. But I’ve heard that King Durin, the seventh in his line (May it never fail!), has invited the Lord of the Glittering Caves to see Khazad-dum as we have restored it so far. So, perhaps if he has not come already while I am gone, then I will set my eyes on him at a later time.’ He looked in a questioning manner at Farael.

‘Now, you said you soldiered in Rohan, yes? Did you visit Helm’s Deep there? Or venture into the Glittering Caves?’ Ibun nodded his head slightly at the thought of what wonders those caverns might have and how the Dwarves there now might have made them even more fair with their skills. ‘That is a place I should like to see before my bones rest beneath the mountains.’ He sighed and recalled himself to the present surroundings. ‘But first the task King Durin set me must be done, of course.’

Ibun’s mug was dry by the time he’d finished speaking. He poured himself another from the pitcher and topped off his companion’s cups. ‘And you, Master Farael, have you set yourself the task of finding those bandits you spoke of. Or does your adventuring spirit have some other quest in mind?’

[Pivli]

Violet sat sipping the small mug of cider Ruby had left for her. Her sharp, dark eyes darted over the rim at the three men with whom she and the two girls now sat.

The two cousins across the table from her seemed rather nice, though awkward a bit as young men just coming of age (or so she supposed) were likely to be. They were, in her mind, ‘promising prospects’ and Chubbs, to boot, a solid family. ‘Need a bit more growing on the vine,’ she thought to herself, ‘before they’re worth the plucking.’

Her eyes flicked left to the table’s host – Fordogrim Chubb. He had just finished talking about the evening’s festivities and his ales and lagers, and had managed to get in a leading comment concerning the dancing there was sure to be. Her thoughts applauded the fact he had a certain pride in his handiwork. ‘Sign of a man’ll go far in his business,’ she thought. But her tongue quietly tsk-tsk’d the way he looked at the lasses. He was sizing them up as he might baskets of barley and hops offered for his brewing.

Violet’s gaze darted to Lilly and Rose. ‘Now, what’s in their minds?’ she wondered, trying to read their faces.

[Gwyn ap Nudd]

Barnaby nearly bit his own fingers, so engaged was he in looking at the lasses at the nearby table. He’d come to the end of the bun he was eating and only at the last moment as he teeth began to press lightly on his thumb and index finger did he realize it was so. He colored slightly, hoping neither of the two younger ladies had seen his mistake, and fussed about with his napkin, wiping the smears of honey and butter from his fingers.

Despite the near miss with the bun he had been eating, his looky-loo’ing had brought him some resolution to his thoughts on the two lasses. He could hear his Gran chiding him even now at the value of his judgment. ‘You got to look beneath the surface, Baranaby Stonecrop, before you bite into the apple,’ was one of her generally useful catch-phrases. ‘Might be rotten at the core, and you’d never know it less you examine it a bit closer.’

He couldn’t, for the life of him, see as how either of the two would be in the least rotten or even wormy a bit, if you took the image a little further. Now the gold haired one was fair enough, and she walked with a certain sort of solid confidence in her step. And those eyes – well they were blue as a fair Shire sky in summer. He knew a few friends of his who’d be swooning at her feet if she glanced even once their way.

But Barnaby’s eye was caught with the darker haired of the two. She seemed more quiet than her companion. And were he to wax poetic, her eyes held some banked fire within their dark glimmering.

He picked up another bun and layered it with butter and honey, all the better to let his thoughts meander down paths of possibility.

[Lilly]

Lilly was well aware of her Aunt’s scrutiny. Having just turned twenty-eight this last winter, she knew how the older women folk in her family were now looking about for likely prospects, that is suitors, for her, even though she wouldn’t come of age for five more years. Five more years – the proper start to the span in her life, or so her family tradition went, when a lass got married and settled down.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly at the thought, twitching off the idea of ‘settledness’. And as for suitors . . . she thanked her lucky stars she’d managed to keep the ones her own aunts and cousins and mother had thrown at her at bay. Surely there was more to life than a husband, a house, and babies to look after!

Lilly left the gawking Chubb cousins to the company of Rose and turned her eye on Fordogrim. ‘A party this evening should prove fun. And you mentioned dancing – do you like the Springle-ring?’ She smiled at him. ‘A vigorous looking fellow such as yourself should surely be able to keep up the pace of it. Yes?’

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=10581) which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Rose]

Rose heaved a silent sigh of relief as Lilly spoke with their host. He seemed a bit too --- well, “interested” in looking the both of them over. ‘I should have brought Hamlin with me, insisted that he come,’ she thought to herself. Hamlin was her oldest brother – thirty years to her twenty-five. He’d begged off when she’d asked him to come, saying he and their father would be moving the sheep with their new lambs to another pasture.

‘You’re old enough to see about your business in Bywater,’ he’d told her. ‘Just keep to the main path as you go; the goodwives keep an eye on the road as well as their house and little ones. You’ll be safe enough.’

She sniffed at the remembered assurance. ‘Oh safe enough while my feet were treading down the path!’ she thought to her self. ‘But here I am, in the Dragon, my feet tucked under my chair. And I feel like I’m about to be pounced on.’

It would be rude she thought to talk just with Miz Greengage, leaving the two Chubb cousins with nothing but themselves to talk to. Rose screwed up her courage and turned a friendly face toward the two brothers. ‘Fatty, is it?’ she said to the thin lad on her right, then nodded to the one just beyond him. ‘And Gerdy, yes? How are you enjoying the Green Dragon? Or have you been here before?’ She thought it a safe enough pair of questions to ask. And as she finished speaking, she sat back in her chair, waiting politely for one of them to carry on with an answer.

[Farael]

"Well, my bearded friends," Farael said, smiling at the dwarves "Gimli son of Gloin fought brabely alongside The King. That alone is worth mentioning but he fought a war it was not his own. And he did save quite a few lifes. I can even tell you, there is this cousin of a friend of mine whose father swears saw Gimli save his friend's life just outside the walls of the city. And I'm afraid I never got to wander around Helm's Deep during my stay in Rohan. My father..." Farael stopped himself "let's just say I did not do any sight-seeing. Just remained in the city doing "guard duty"... guard duty? but there's not much to guard against, not in Rohan, not in Gondor!" He made silence, thinking how it was that once and again his father had interfered and kept him 'safe' when all he wanted was a little adventure. But now he was far from home and far enough that not even his father could reach him.

"And to answer your other question Master Dwarf, I lost the trail of those bandits two nights ago. I shall keep looking for them but I am also looking for any company that may need my skills on their quest, which ever that may be. I can defend myself with the sword and I am an excelent archer" He puffed up his chest while thinking about his archery skills. "If you will believe what I say about myself, of course" he added, although that token of modesty was clearly fake.

Farael stopped talking - at times it seemed he could talk without breathing- and took a good drink of his ale. Settling down a little and remembering the dwarves might not be all too interested in how he had outscored his captain on an archery contest during his time in the Gondor Army, he helped himself to some more Ale and asked, while filling the dwarve's mugs as well

"Don't mind me if I ask too much Ibun, you mentioned you were sent by your King on a certain task.... yet I can't recall if you said what this task may be"

[Valier]

She knew it must be around here somewhere."Ah Ha," She said to Herself. "The Green Dragon,this is where the great Merry n......" As she trailed off into silent thought.She smiled,looked down and opened a flap on a bag she carried at her side. "Are you guys hungry?"... No answer came from the bag just rustling."Oh you're sleeping,You're always sleeping!" She closed the flap and entered the Inn.


At first glance it seemed a little disappointing,but cozy.She decided,she might stay a few nights,just in case something exciting happened,that she wouldn't want to miss. She strolled to the bar."Bartender may I trouble you for the largest ale you've got.She thanked the Bartender rather curtly while downing her mug,spilling on her front as she drank.She sat on a stool and had a look around.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger noticed the young woman at the bar had spilled some of her drink down her front. The Hobbit fetched a clean cloth from behind the bar and brought around to where the guest stood.

‘Excuse me, miss,’ she said, plucking the woman’s sleeve. ‘That ale stains something awful!’ She held out the rag to the woman. ‘You can sop most of it out with this, if you wish.’

The bag the guest carried at her side seemed to rustle quietly. Curious, Ginger let her gaze slide down to it. ‘Oh my goodness!’ she exclaimed as the bag seemed to move just a bit, from within. ‘What’s in there?’ she blurted out, pointing at the bag.

[Undómë]

Telu barges in on the two Dwarves and the man from Gondor


‘So much for the patience of Elves,’ thought Teluyaviel as she fidgeted on her chair. Her brother, Tindomion, had abandoned her to see to some business in the stables concerning their horses. And the other guests in the Inn who had been such pleasant company for the morning meal had gone, too. The dark haired Elf maiden twisted a lock of hair about the fingers of her right hand and looked about the room for someone interesting to talk to.

A conversation at a nearby table caught her interest, and it was not long before she was listening in, her keen ears picking up the exchange of information between the two Dwarves and the young man.

She looked him over covertly, wondering how old he was and how long he’d been away from home and was he soon to return. There was talk of Orcs and bandits; of blades and bows and quests, or so she thought of the adventures the three companions were speaking of. She understood from what the young man said that he was from Gondor.

‘Pardon me,’ she said, drawing near the table where Ibun, Fror, and Farael sat. Her fair cheeks reddened a little at her own boldness. ‘My name is Teluyaviel, a guest here also at the Inn. I couldn’t help but overhear that you are from Gondor.’ Her dark grey eyes looked questioningly at Farael. ‘Would you mind if I asked – have you visited the new Ithilien, since the Elves of Woodland Realm settled there? What is it like?’

[Koobdooga]

Ibun stood as Elf finished speaking. ‘Ibun Lodestone here, m’lady Teluyaviel. Very pleased to meet you. Won’t you have a seat here with us?’ He hastened to pull out the empty chair for her. He had not had the opportunity to meet many Elves in his lifetime. And those he did were for the most part Elven men, seeking to trade for the gems and fine metals Ibun and his kin mined.

He was quite taken by the fair lady. Her long dark hair seemed to glimmer as she moved. He had seen such glimmerings before he thought. It was as if he looked once again into the night-dark waters of the Kheled-zaram that stood before the eastern gate of Khazad-dum and in it saw the stars reflected and twinkling on the shining waters. Recalling himself from this imagery, he bade her take a seat and asked if they might get her some refreshment.

[Folwren]

Tim, after inviting the hobbit ladies over to Fordogrim’s table and fetching them chairs, and quite excused himself from the group and slipped outside the inn to make sure that all was well in the stables. He found Meri the stablemaster fairly red in the face from hobbling around and Tim felt a pang of guilt when he saw him.

“I’m here, Mr. Meriadoc,” he said. “You’d better take a seat and rest that foot of yours. I’m sorry for being gone so long. Mr. Fordogrim had me in for lunch, you see.”

“Well, at least you’re back now,” the hobbit replied rather shortly. He took Tim’s advise and seated himself on a barrel just outside the barn door. “There’s another horse just recently come in,” he went on, pulling a pipe out of his vest pocket and then searching for a match. “Make certain that he’s properly cared for. I couldn’t do more than put him in the stall. He was too big for me to groom with just one hand.”

“I’ll deal with it, don’t worry,” Tim replied. He turned at once and had just stepped into the barn door when he saw his sister emerge from the kitchen door with something under her arm. He paused half a second, looking at her, and then proceeded into the dimmer shadows of the barn to do his job with the horses.

[Farael]

In spite of himself, Farael gasped as the elf approached his table, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. He had been too busy talking to the dwarves to notice this lady elf listening in on his conversation. He had actually been to Ithilien once, sent by his father to make a business arrangement and seen a few elves yet he did not expect to find one in “the wilderness” as he thought of places any further than Rohan from home.

Ibun didn’t make things any easier from him, as he offered her a seat and refreshment even before he was able to mutter a soft “Yes, m’lady… I have been to Ithilien. It really is a lovely city.” Then he looked into her deep, grey eyes and blushed deeply. He gathered himself, hoping Teluyaviel would not have noticed how flustered he had become. “whe..” he had to clear his throat before going on “where are you from?” and he added to himself “From my dreams, I would guess” then he smiled at her, forgetting all about the dwarves for the time being.

[Valier]

Startled from her daydream.Penn looked down to see a Hobbit pulling at her sleeve offering her a cloth to sop up the mess. Penn's face turned red as she looked at her front.She was about to thank her, when she blurted out "Oh my goodness!" and asked what was in the bag.

Penn was reluctant to tell her of her companions,for fear of not being allowed to stay."Don't worry."Penn said."They are harmless...Most of the time."Then the woman got a strange far off look like she was deep in thought,then shrugged and laughed reached into the bag and pulled out 2 fuzzy creatures that were fast asleep."These are my friends.Mer and Pip,they're Ferrets." Penn waited to see the Hobbits reaction.

[Undómë]

‘A lovely city.’ Telu’s brow furrowed at the man’s answer. But then, of course, he was a Man, he would notice the city part, wouldn’t he. ‘I was wondering, though, did you see the gardens that are said to be there, now? I had heard the Elves of the Woodland realm had made and maintain them.’

Her voice trailed off. Though his gaze seemed set on her, she thought perhaps his mind wandered from her questions. The hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips.

Telu pulled her cloak close about her and brought her hood forward, thrusting her face deep in shadow. ‘Is this better?’ she asked. ‘Is it less……distracting?’

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Ferrets!’ Ginger eyed the two sleeping animals. To be honest, they looked so sweet and peaceful. Her fingers itched to touch them. ‘Best not wake them,’ a little voice in the back of her mind warned her.

Just this past spring a trio of ferrets had got into her family’s henhouse and ate the eggs beneath the hens. Two of her mother’s prize layers had been dragged off, too; and a number of the little chicks killed.

‘Where did you get them? Are they tame?’ Ginger asked the woman. She thought about what Cook might say if she knew there were ferrets in the Inn. ‘What do they eat?’

[Valier]

Farael's boot is attacked by a ferret on the loose

As Penn held out the ferrets,she noticed the hobbits expression.She had seen it before.The hobbit wanted to touch them,but was reluctant."Where did you get them?"She asked. "What do they eat?" "UM I found them when they were very young abandoned by their mother I suppose,and they eat pretty much everything when they're not sleeping." Penn placed the seemingly sleeping ferrets back in the bag.

"It won't be a problem me having them here will it?" At that very moment a flurry came from the bag and out popped a white head ,Pip as the creature was called quickly ran down Penn's leg and on to the floor and under all the feet.

"OH that bugger!" Penn exclaimed as she too got on her hands and knees and turned her head this way and that,making a soft clicking noise."He does this all the time."Penn exclamed to the Hobbit."Dont worry he won't hurt anyone...I hope." "I guess he's found something he likes."

Penn crawled clumsily on looking for her friend when she spotted a white fleck out the corner of her eye,it seemed Pip had found what he was looking for..a shiny boot buckle belonging to a man that sat at a table with two Dwarves and an elf. Penn intent on catching the ferret crawled right up almost under the table and..

"AH HA got you!" but when she went to lift him he still had a hold on the man's boot and was now shaking his head fiercely side to side. Penn looked at the tables participants."Umm so sorry...He seems to like your boot ,she said to the man,Im Penn and this rascal is Pip,give him a minute and he should let go...Maybe." Penn smirked and waited for they're reactions.

[Farael]

Farael was captivated by the sound of the voice of the elf. If her beauty was striking her soft, melodious voice was too captivating to resist. He noticed she had said something about some gardens and he was ready to reply that he was not a big fan of gardens but he had seen some very nice plants growing around when many things happened at once.

First, the elf seemed to notice he was not really concentrating on the conversation they were having and she pulled her hood forward, trying to joke around- Farael thought afterwards- which only made things all the more embarassing for him.

Then he tried to stand up and bow to this, the most beautiful of elves and explain to her it was her voice and not her face which had cast a spell on him. At the same time he felt something tugging at his boot which almost made him loose balance. He sat down again heavily to find a small animal - was it a ferret? - who had bitten his boot and was now shaking its head as if trying to tear some for himself. Holding the ferret now was the lady he had seen walk into the Inn just a few minutes before and this all was just too much for the young man from Gondor.

His first reaction was to yell out in frustration but being two ladies present he managed to let out a chuckle instead. It was a minute before he could compose himself and stand up as he had meant to. The lady had already apologised to him and introduced his animal as 'Pip' and when Farael turned to look at Teluyaviel she still had her hood on and he could not see her eyes. The little animal was now on the lady's hands so Farael bowed politely and smiled at the elf and the woman.

"I beg you forgive me, for this has been all very unexpected. First of all, m'lady, pip and Teluyaviel, I should introduce myself. My name is Farael son of Hadar from Gondor. I beg you forgive me but you two, or should I say three?" Farael looked at Pip "have caught me off guard. I would appreciate it m'lady elf if you let me see you while we are talking. I'm afraid it's your voice which surprised me the most and not your eyes, although I must say they are beautiful. As for miss Penn and lil' Pip, do not worry about my boots, they are old and worn, a little bite won't do much damage to them. I think we still have one last chair so feel free to join us if you'd like."

Having all this off his chest, Farael told Penn about what Teluyaviel had asked him and went on to answer that even though he had seen some very pretty gardens, it was the buildings which he liked the most. He admitted that he liked more the things made by skill than the ones that could grow by themselves.

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Frór had remained silent during the last parts of the conversation with Ibun and Farael. He did not know what to think of this man from Gondor he seemed quite disturbed and strange. The reactions of Farael when the elf aproached and the ferret attacked had not helped, "maybe they are all like that" Frór mumbeld to him self.

Frór now put the mug of ale to his mouth and startet drinking, but he somehow mannaged to get a part of his beard in the mouth too. Now allthough he was not that old he had an impressive beard, the result of the incident was of course that the dwarf startet coughing very loud and he allmost tumbeld off his chair.

Frór now looked around and realised that the people around the table was all staring at him, this made him very uncomftable. Not only because he did not like the atention, but allso because it was given to him by an elf. Frór had been quite content with the fact that he still had to jutney through the Shire before incounter the elves. Now there was one in front of him and he could not just ignore her as he had first planned.

Frór looked at Teluyaviel and bowes as he said: "Frór of the Iron Hills to your service lady Teluyaviel, of the Woodland Realm I guess". When he stood up again he was once again facing her, but he quicly turned against Penn and intruduced him self to her. This was done so that he would not seem unpolite, but mostley because he was uncomftable facing the elf.

Frór sad down on his chair and finnished his ale beeing carefull not to get his beard in the mouth. He then turned to Farael and said "please continue with your story of the apperently fait Ithillien."

[Valier]

Penn stood for some time staring at the occupants of the table,before she realised her mouth was hanging agape.she quickly recovered."Excuse my intrusion,Pip here is a bit of a thief when it comes to shiny things,but I've something to keep him occupied". Penn withdrew a shiny coin,and thrust it and Pip bag into the bag.

The man politely asked if she would like to sit.Penn was embarrassed at the attention she was recieving,looked towards the bar to see if she could see the Hobbit she was just recently speaking with,she could not.I must remember to thank her later.Penn sat quickly and quietly down on a chair,as the company resumed there chatting.

Penn was thinking that she should properly introduce herself,but how? She had already made a fool of herself.Then she noticed the man was sitting with an ELF,and a DWARF.Penn was over come with her strange imagination.."Oh!". Penn exclaimed."I should be more polite, my name is Penncairiel but you can call me Penn she explained to the table."I've met Farael and Fror briefly but I did not get your name."

Penn stared at the Elf ,she could not believe she was about to actually speak words with an Elf,Let alone a Dwarf introducing himself not in her wildest imaginings would she believe it,and she imagined far too often as her father had always told her.Penn tried to be patient and not fidget but those daydreams were threatning to emerge,so she bit her lip to keep focus and waited.

[Captain Grishnahk]

Between the clatter and banging of drinks and orders being served, people laughing, talking, and looking at ferrets a snarl was heard from outside. Many ignored it. The people sitting close to the door heard the thick jingle of loosely armored legs hitting the ground. The door soon swung open, revealing a hooded creature with a black cape. A shadow passed over his entire face, unrevealing his true orcish features. The orc was well built, and showed that he wanted no trouble with the peaceful hobbits, elves, or ferrets by placing his razor sharp scimitar and his heavy orcish axe by the door; keeping a woodened black crossbow under his cloak. Beneath his black cloak he was clad in steel armor blackened with fire, with leather slabs in-between the steel plates. Mud was caked on his black leather boots, showing that he had traveled from afar off, because it had not been muddy in the Shire for a few weeks.


Once he closed the door he stumbled forward before stopping himself, he was slightly dizzy from the cursed sun that was out, and he soon found a shadowed area with a booth into which he slid. Once the guests saw the warg out the door, they guessed what their new visitor was.
“Cursed sun,” he murmured eyeing the window shades. His beady eyes shifted from side to side, and soon his long fingers grasped the curtain and slid them halfway shut. He sighed with relief.
“What might I get you, sir?” said a hobbit waiter who stood a few feet from the table. Grishnahk did not raise his head; he only asked if they served raw meat.
“Sorry sir, but we only serve cooked meat!” he chuckled thinking the strange man was joking, “we don’t want to gross our customers out!” Grishnahk raised his head and looked at the hobbit with his deathly gaze, soon frightening him away. He then eyed the ferrets a few tables off with a new sort of look.

[Undómë]

Teluyaviel’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the Orc. Powerful indeed must be the Peace of the High King in Gondor that such creatures should now roam freely. She drew back the hood of her cloak and stared fully at the one-time foe of the Elves. ‘How should she think of him now?’ she wondered to herself.

‘My name is Teluyaviel, m’lady,’ she spoke aloud to Penn, turning her gaze back to the woman. ‘Or Telu, if the other is too much a mouthful,’ she said with a grin. ‘I do find many whose tongues trip over the longer name.’ Telu nodded toward the Orc.

‘Perhaps you had better keep your little friends close about you, Penn. The Orc looks hungry. And he’s been eyeing little Pip.’

[Farael]

Everyone in Farael's table was still introducing themselves - sometimes he would think people liked to make all those longs introductions rather than actually talk - when the door opened and a dark figure walked in, almost stumbling all the way to a dark corner. Immediately Farael grabbed the long knife he always kept on his boot, luckily not the same boot lil' Pip had been so happily chewing at, yet he was not sure why he had done so. Then Teluyaviel confirmed what he had feared all along. It was an orc! What was an orc doing here? Should he attack it, even here at the Inn? then he realized that the dwarves and the elf in his table were likely better in fighting than himself, at least while having only a knife.

With all these thoughts in his mind, Farael looked around for a clue on what to do next. He had only been at the Inn for less than a day and he did not know if Orcs were actually welcomed in its grounds. Something in the looks of Teluyaviel told him they were not.

[Captain Grishnahk]

A small click was heard under the table as Grishnahk slid a bolt into the wooded capsule of his crossbow. He knew that the people of the inn were becoming conspicuous of his presence. But he had to hide somewhere where the hunters would not look. His beady eyes stared at Farael when he was not looking, and when he did look, Grishnahk turned his head down. Grishnahk was not made Captain of the Dark Tower for no reason. He was skilled with weapons, and was a higher educated orc. He was the apprentice of Grishnakh before his disappearance when looking for The One Ring. But there was something different about Grishnahk. He had been banished from Mordor a few years back, and was sentenced to death due to his unnatural orcish behavior.

He was much like a man, having the choices between good and evil. Grishnahk was struggling with his orcish and elvish soul. He knew he was meant to do evil, and that was his only excuse for doing so. But he was also equipped with a conscience, and that was his main downfall.

Grishnahk rubbed his eyes, he had to leave soon before his death occurred. But he had to wait until the sun set.

[Gwyn ap Nudd]

Grishnahk is sent a pitcher of ale

Barnaby wondered at the menacing fellow who sat at a table not far from his. He heard the word ‘Orc’ whispered about the room and gave the creature an appraising look. He certainly looked dangerous enough, and he had brought in some horrible looking weapons, sharp weapons. And well used by the looks of them.

The Hobbit’s eyes slid to the Orc’s muddy boots. ‘Been traveling. And a far piece, I think from the looks of it.’

Now Barnaby knew that traveling for any length of time made him quite hungry. And thirsty, too. He fished about in his little coin purse and drew out a few coins. Calling over one of the servers, he asked him to take the new fellow a pitcher of ale to slake his thirst and a wedge of cheese with some warm Shire rolls to take the edge off his hunger.

Having never met an Orc or heard much about them, Barnaby had no idea what it was exactly that they ate or drank, for that matter. But he figured a little of the Inn’s good food and ale couldn’t hurt. The server hurried away, and was soon warily standing at the Orc’s table, explaining as he sat the pitcher and platter of cheese and buns on the table that “that fellow over there had sent them along . . .”

[Pivli]

Miz Violet considers the Orc and comes to some Hobbitish conclusions

Violet Greengage grew tired of the small talk at her table. Her old bones did not enjoy sitting for any length of time on the hard wooden chairs of the Inn. She had left her little seat cushion on the cart seat and now she wished she had remembered to bring it in. She fidgeted for a few more moments on her seat, then stood up, leaning heavily on her blackthorn cane as she eased her old joints into a more proper alignment. None of those at her table paid the least bit of attention to the old Hobbit granny, so busy were they in talking among themselves.

Her back had been to the door when the Orc entered, and as she turned around, intending to go out to the stable for her cushion, she saw the newcomer to the Inn. ‘My, my!’ she thought to herself. ‘He’s got quite a sunburn, now hasn’t he. Fierce looking fellow. Nice hefty build, though,’ she murmured approvingly. ‘Stoutly built as a Hobbit. Well, an oversized Hobbit. But still he looks like one to appreciate his meals.’

She hobbled slowly toward him, her knees creaking in protest at their being used. He was dressed all in black, she noted, and the expression on his face seemed rather a sad one. Or so she thought. It was hard to tell. It looked, too, as if he might have been some sort of soldier, what with his beat up looking face and weapons and such. She considered his black clothing once again - perhaps someone in his family had died and he was in mourning.

‘Sorry for your loss, young man,’ she offered sympathetically as she was just beginning to pass his table and head for the door. ‘Hope you’re feeling better soon.’

[Undómë]

Her ears caught the muffled click from beneath the table where the Orc sat. He had a hidden weapon, and from the sound of it a crossbow. She was familiar with the sound, her father having taken her to a number of fetes in Harlindon where men with such weapons had tried to out do each other in contests of skill. They could not match the distance of the long bows of the Elven archers, but for the force with which they hit their target, and a savage force she thought it, they could not themselves be matched.

Telu noted Farael had fetched a great long knife he had hidden in his boot. Did he think to defend against the Orc with it? The distance from the Orc’s table to the man’s heart was not that far. He would be dead even before the knife left his hand.

And here she sat, no weapons of her own. Think! she told herself. Before this fair-faced one of the Edain has no chance to grow old and enjoy his grandchildren.

Her brow furrowed for a moment, then smoothed out as a small diversion occurred to her. She leaned forward, toward Farael, and laid her hand lightly on his arm. ‘It grows close in here, at least to my senses,’ she began, her head nodding slightly toward where the Orc sat. She lowered her eyes as if timid to make her request of him. Raising them again, a seeming artless look of expectation on her face, she engaged his own. ‘Might you walk about the grounds with me?’ she asked. ‘The fresh air will be welcome, don’t you think?’ She smiled at him, her eyes glimmering in the light from the nearby window. ‘My brother and I, as I’ve said are bound for Ithilien. We’ll be passing through Rohan, I’m sure. Then south toward Gondor. I’ve never been there. And I thought perhaps you could tell me of those lands.’

She stood, straightening her cloak about her. Her body blocked the view Farael had of Grishnahk. ‘And of course, you can invite your friends here to walk with us, if you wish.’ She smiled again, waiting expectantly for his answer.

[Captain Grishnahk]

Grishnahk grabbed at the mug of ale sitting before him, and he drank it all in two swallows. Smacking his lips, and forgetting to wipe his foamed mouth, he nodded towards Barnaby in thanks. But his thank-you was somewhat sarcastic, for he was not used to being treated in anyway but in disgust. The old hobbit that had just left seamed a bit uncanny, and most likely unfamiliar with orcs. Grishnahk also eyed the knife that Farael had, and he marked him down as an enemy.

The dark, grim Captain nibbled on the bread while making his observations of inn; the bread reminded him of the maggoty bread back in Mordor served as rations during war times. He longed for meat. Raw meat (if he could get it) his sharp yellow teeth shifted around in his mouth as he licked the backs of them. His crossbow was lightly placed in his hands, if anyone attempted to attack him, he would be ready. But for the time being, he would lay low.

[Valier]

Penn who was always quite a daydreamer was now completely alert.She was now aware of the discomfort at her table.Telu advised Penn to keep a close eye on Pip and nodded towards the corner.Penn quickly glanced and spied an Orc of all creatures sitting there.

Penn knew that it hide a weapon under the table,A knlfe appeared at Farael's side and Telu looked slightly concerned.But what they did not know was they were far from danger for Penn could have killed the Orc in a blink of it's eye.She was greatly skilled, self-taught,with two small daggers her father had given her.

Penn's life was fairly seditary,she got bored when her father was away,so learning accuracy became a game to pass the time.But when she found two small helpless,parentless Ferrets,her skills became more honed.Because the mice in her home had long since become weary of her skilland taken more secretive means.To no avail.Mer and Pip could not hunt for themseves so Penn became their soul means of food. Penn did not wish to harm thr Orc,he would not be here if he meant harm.

Penn looked over to her company and noticed the look on Telu's face as she quietly spoke to Farael,she knew that look."UM ,Pardon me,I must excuse myselfPenn exclaimed quickly and mumbled something about being hotand bolted out the door.Penn pulled her hood over her dirty and travel-worn,hair and looked around
.Penn quickly noticed a wretched smell."OOOH,That smell!" She exclaimed, peering around the corner she spotted the Warg."so that's what they look like,and smell like."But not all the smell was coming from the Warg,some came from herself.She slipped quickly back into the Inn and asked a Hobbit at the bar if she could trouble them for a room key,the Hobbit smiled and obligrd.Penn quickly glanced at the table from whence she sat and fled out of sight to refresh herself and her stinky companions.

[Captain Grishnahk]

Grishnahk watched as Penn exited, and he took a bite of the cheese sitting on his pate. He had no money to pay for meat, so he made the choice to steal some to quench his piercing hunger.

Slowly he stood from his table and walked a few feet before arriving at the door. He opened it and slipped outside to find another door or window into the kitchen.

[Primrose Bolger]

The news of the Orc is brought back to the kitchen

Ginger made her way back to the kitchen, cautiously. For one, she didn’t want to attract the attention of the newest customer to the Inn – the Orc. And second, she hoped that all the upheaval caused by that loathsome cat was over.

She peeked through the swinging door and saw that indeed, the kitchen had returned to normal. Cook was busy at the butcher-black table. The butcher had been there early in the morning and left several large goat carcases for the inn in the cold cellar. Cook had brought one up and was using her meat ax and bone saw to separate it out into more manageable pieces, which would later all be hung in the smoke house. She looked quite the sight, with her bloodied apron on and the blood on her hands where she’d held the meat as she sawed at the bones.

The Widow Rosebank had finished the dishes it seemed and was now helping out with something she was stirring up in a large bowl, probably for supper. Buttercup sat near her at the table, shelling peas. In all, it was a peaceful scene, save for the gore and blood about Cook.

And better yet, there was no sign of the fractious feline. Or Wren for that matter.

Ginger stepped into the kitchen and cleared her throat loudly. And once all had turned their attention to her for the moment, she announced her news loudly.

‘Thought you might all like to know – there’s an Orc come to the Dragon. Big, old ugly fellow. And he’s sitting bold as brass in the Common Room right now.’

[Farael]

Of all days, it just had to happen today. Farael had just come back from exploring around looking for those bandits who he never found and felt tired and slow. Now it seemed everything was happening too fast for him. First the elf, then the ferret and ferret owner, and then of all things an orc!

Now, as Telu invited him for a walk and he turned around to ask Penn if she would be interested in joining him, she said something about excusing herself and all but ran away.The dwarves seemed quite content with staying inside so he invited them for a walk as well, even though he wanted some time alone with Teluyaviel.

Without really waiting for the dwarves to answer and assuming they would join them if they were interested, Farael hid his knife again and invited Telu to lead the way. He was looking forward to walking around with her, even if she would start talking about the trees.... just as long as she talked about something.

[Captain Grishnahk]

Grishnahk stayed in the shadows of the inn as he slipped around back. The few windows that he saw led into the large dinning room instead of the kitchen. Finally, after going a few more yards, the window his eyes peeked into saw a person chopping up meat. The blood all over the cook made the hungry Captain lick his lips and scratch his palms. The cook's back was to the window, so Grishnahk could see if there was any door leading from the back into the kitchen. He spotted the door that led out to the smoke house. He spat when he heard a voice inside announcing his presence, he would have his revenge whenever he was himself again. Finally making it to the door that was placed in the sunlight, Grishnahk paused for a few seconds, he needed to be as stealthy as possible to get some meat, his stomach was empty, and he would not last much longer without some meat, fresh or rotten.

The sunlight caused him to go faster than he normally would, his skin was burning and his mind unclear. He opened the door that made no noise whatsoever, he smiled as he hurried and entered before he fainted. Slowly turning the nob and closing the door, he squated down close to the floor, he then slipped under a table. The meat was swinging above another table a few feet away, and it called to him. He bit his lip until blood ran. The butcher would leave soon he hoped. If not, he would have to grab some and run. But he thought harder; that undeniably would bring his death about more quickly.

Blood dripped from the meat, it nearly drove him mad...

[Valier]

After a good soak and a whole lot of splashing due to Merr's immence size and Pip's immence rambunctiousness,Penn was clean and her clothes were changed,Merr & Pip dried and fast asleep,she decided to return to the common room.

Before she left she checked her appearence in a nearby mirror,Startled for a second she smiled."I forgot,I clean up nicely!"Her appearence had drasticaly changed,from a dirty,journey weary woman,to a pleasing to look at lady.
Penn's hair was stark blond and fell almost to her shoulders.Her eyes were rich emerald green with1/3 the top left the pitchest of black.Her gaze exesuded experience & confidence.She was in some ways a sight for sore eyes.

She stowed Merr & Pip in their bag again along with some dried berries to tide them until she could hunt some small rodents for more sustanence.Thinking of food made her stomach grumble,food for herself would have to come first.As she approached the common room,she gazed around quickly to see who was present,The orc was gone and so was Telu & Farael.

She sat at a nearby table and hailed the server to see what they had to eat.Penn ordered a pint and something the server assured her she would like.Penn leaned back and sighed.So much excitement in such a short time.

[Undómë]

A walk on the Inn grounds

‘Have you ever been to the northern woodlands, Farael?’ Telu took his offered hand lightly as she stepped down from the Inn’s verandah. ‘It’s where I was raised. Eryn Lasgalen they call it now, but not so long ago it was named Mirkwood. There were dreadful things that hid among the trees. And the trees themselves seemed to turn dark and menacing.’ She took his arm, as they walked about the front expanse of lawn, saying, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘I never really saw the Orcs that passed through there, on their way to some evil doings or another. But I knew them from the smell they left in their wake. And once or twice I caught a glimpse of those beasts they ride, the wargs.’ They had wandered into the shade thrown by a trio of beeches near the pathway from the road to the Inn. She shivered beneath her cloak at the remembrance of those savage faces and directed their steps once again into the sun.

They walked in companionable silence to the western boundaries of the Green Dragon’s property. Along its edges were great oaks and ash trees among them. And scattered here and there were patches of flowers and bunch grasses. She bent down for a moment as they passed a grouping of bright blue flowers and picked one (http://www.secondlooks.net/Gallery2/FlowerGarden/thumbnails/tn_blueflower2_jpg.jpg), leaving a finger’s length of stem on it. ‘Here’s a pretty one for you!’ she laughed, securing it in the lacings of his tunic. ‘You don’t mind, do you? It makes you look less . . . grim.’ She plucked another, a white star-flower (http://www.wickedgoodart.org/downloads/my%20photos/starflower.jpg), and tucked its stem behind her left ear. ‘I’ll wear one, too,’ she said, her cheek dimpling as she grinned at him. ‘We’ll leave off thinking about Orcs and such and talk of fairer things.’

Telu spied a nice patch of grass not too far from where they now stood. Pointing to it, she led him there, and sat down, her back against an oak stump. She patted the ground next to her. ‘Come, sit down and enjoy the sun and view.’ She nodded toward the Inn, where Hobbits and others were coming and going.

‘Tell me a little about yourself, Farael. What adventures have you been on? I love to hear such stories.’ She frowned for a moment then her brow smoothed out again. ‘My life has been quite tame. Under the thumb of my parents for a long while, and now the watchful eye of my brother. No real adventures, I fear.'

[piosenniel]

A trip to the smokehouse

‘An Orc, you say?’ Cook paused for a moment in her butchering and looked toward Ginger. ‘We had one in here quite a while ago,’ she went on, pursing her lips as she stirred through her memories. ‘He came for that big birthday party. Very civilized for an Orc, if I recall correctly. Polite. And good sense of humor.’ She looked at Ginger again. ‘I don’t suppose we could get so lucky again, could we?’

She motioned for Buttercup to fetch the two big roasting pans. And they were soon placed on two chair seats that Ruby had pulled up near the butcher-block. Into each of them she placed a large haunch of goat which would be done up with taters and carrots all nestled about it for supper.

‘Buttercup, you finish up those peas. And then you and Ginger can season the roasts and put them in the oven to roast slow. Don’t get too heavy handed with the rosemary – just a light dusting of it ground will do.’

Cook gathered up the various large pieces she’d managed to cut the rest of the goat into and piled them into a large, two handled pot. ‘Ruby, can you get the other handle? We’ll take these out to the smokehouse to hang.’

It was a heavy load for the two Hobbits, but they managed it nicely and soon were pulling open the smokehouse door. They hung the bloody pieces on the great hooks that came down on ropes from the beams and then closed the door securely. They made sure the low burning fire in the little stove next to the large hut was still going and that the flue from the stove was well opened to let the heat and smoke drift through thickly over the meat. Cook threw a couple of scoops of wet applewood shavings into the little stove for flavor.

The smokehouse stood a good ways away from the back kitchen door and away from the stable. The two Hobbits made their way back to the kitchen, stopping on the way at the pump just outside the kitchen door to clean up. Ruby was asked to start peeling the taters for the roasts, while Buttercup chopped the carrots into good sized chunks. Widow Rosebank was just finishing up the cake batter for dessert.

‘Ginger, girl,’ said Cook, motioning her over to where the butchering had been done. ‘Go fetch the mop and a pail of hot sudsy water. I’ll clean up the table here and put it away and you can scrub up the floor.’

[Captain Grishnahk]

Grishnahk cursed his stupidity. He should have known the butcher would have not left raw meat out. Hidding behind the smokehouse is what he would have chosen if he had not been driven by hunger and beaten by the sun. But he had to wait a few more minutes to slip once again back out the door. Once there was no one watching, the orc slipped outside into the sun. Grishnahk sheilded his face with his hands from the sun, and he quickly ran into a nearby forest. The smokehouse was directly on the edge of the clump of trees and he would be able to get to it easily. Now that he was in some shadow, Grishnahk could think more clearly. He watched as the small tastey hobbits dashed into the kitchen after washing their hands at the pump.

The grim captain was distracted rather suddenly as he saw two figures a she and a he, walking down a path; soon sitting under a tree. He smiled evily thinking of what he would do if he were a bit younger, but he soon dismissed the thought and concentrated on his needs. Of course the smokehouse would be locked somehow, and he would have to be quick.

[Farael]

Farael looked at the pretty flower (he hadn't learned enough about flowers to know which kind of flower this one was) and sighed before answering "I am afraid my long bow and knife might have given you the wrong impression m'lady" Even though he knew her name, he still had a hard time thinking of her as an equal rather than someone somehow more important than himself "for I have not had any adventures in my young life. It is true I was enrolled in the glorious army of Gondor but... well, my dad made sure I never left to battle, nor to anywhere dangerous. I was all but a messenger boy for one of the captains.

This is why I've come here" he looked into her eyes hopefully "we all know how four brave halflings- hobbits that is- helped My Lord The King in his adventure, so now I'm looking forward to meet some of those adventurous hobbits myself!" Farael's voice lowered to a little more than a whisper "Although it seems like the hobbits in the Inn are not the same kind than the ones I've heard about... these seem pretty... tame"

[Captain Grishnahk]

Grishnahk slipped in front of the smoke house, already he smelled the wonderful raw meat beginning to cook. The lock was not skillfully made, for the Shire was most likely not accustomed to robbers or bandits. With the aid of his small dagger, he twisted the lock and soon the door opened, pouring smoke out into the air.
“I shall soon be suspected,” Grishnahk murmured snatching down two hunks of meat. He then retreated into the forest. When running the man of the two people under the tree met eyes with Grishnahk. Grishnahk's heart suddenly fell but he kept running. Once deep into the forest he layed one slab of the meat in his pack, and the other he bit into. Ripping the meat with his sharp yellow teeth, Grishnahk swallowed the bloody goodness. After he stomach was full he stood up very refreshed. He now was going to sneak and get as much information as he could get. It was long since he had any true spying job and he now would try his sneaking abilities. Slowly the leaves crunched under his boots as he crept closer to the two people talking under a strong oaktree.

He had to see if that man had truly seen him or not.

[Undómë]

Teluyaviel! What are you doing?

Telu started as her brother’s thoughts rattled loudly in her mind. Tindomion had come out of the stables, having seen to his and his sister’s horse. And here she was sitting all cozy with a man . . . a Man!

And what are those flowers twined in his shirt and in your hair?

She could almost see the steam pouring from his ears as he tromped toward her and Farael.

I should never have listened to mother! he growled in her thoughts. We should have bound you hand and foot and stowed you away below decks until we were far out to sea.

Telu stood and smoothed down her skirt, her cool grey eyes amused at Tindomion’s demeanor. He was red in the face, an unusual color for an Elf, she thought. Even for him. ‘This is Farael, my friend,’ she spoke aloud, gesturing toward Farael. ‘He kindly offered to walk with me in the fresh air, Tindo. There was an Orc in the Common Room.’

Tindomion looked the Man up and down. He looked harmless enough, he supposed. His hand went out in a proprietary manner toward Telu and drew her near him. ‘Thank you for offering to walk with Teluyaviel, Master Farael. But please don’t let us keep you from our business. I’m free now to take her where she wants to go.’

His sister stood slightly behind Tindo as he spoke to Farael, and she raised her brows at his comments and shook her head. She had enjoyed her small period of time free from her brother’s all too watchful eye. She put her hand lightly on her brother’s arm and stepped a little forward. ‘No need for you to break up our pleasant afternoon, Tindo. Why don’t you join us?’ She smiled brightly at him, her eyes teasing him to say ‘no’ to her.

‘We were talking of “adventures”. And really, neither Farael or I can say we’ve had any. But you were one of Thranduil’s archers; surely you have some stories to tell.’

Her brother had always been quiet on the subject of the War against the Shadow; his thoughts guarded when talk turned to it. She had wondered long about his reticence to speak of it. And even now, as she looked at him expectantly, she could see him harden himself against intrusion.

‘Well, then,’ she went on. ‘Perhaps you would be content to just walk along with us, and listen to our chatter.’ She was about to go on, when she sneezed. Her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled up as a disgusting scent assailed it.

‘Something stinks! Something close by . . . like dead and rotting meat . . .’

[Captain Grishnahk]

Grishnahk had planned something for the two lovers under the tree until the other character had approached them.
“An archer, eh?” he whispered looking the elf over with his beady eyes. He would not last long if he was suspected. Out here in the forest where none of the hobbits could watch, his death would be upon him as quick as an arrow from the string. Slowly he backed up on his hands and feet, but he ran into something.
“Shisss!” hissed a voice, Grishnahk turned and looked upon another orc, smaller than himself but clad in spy garb. Quickly he looked back at the three people behind the bush, of course they would see him soon, already they were searching for whatever the sound may have come from.
“Ello, cap’m mate!” sneered the maggot, looking at Grishnahk’s pale face.
“Long time no see, eh?” he continued in a whisper. Grishnahk cupped his hand over the orc’s mouth, but it was too late…

[Valier]

After Penn had filled her belly,she spied the two Dwarves she had met earlier still sitting at their table talking,and drinking.Penn had not had a good conversation in some time.So she decided at that moment to be bold and approach their table for some companionship.

As she walked over ,she hailed the server for a round of ale for herself and the Dwarves."Greetings,Fror and friend.Would you mind terribly if I joined you? You see I have been travelling for sometime and this is the best ale I've ever had,I heared that Dwarves can drink alot of ale.I myself can drink quite a bit.Do you care for a friendly wager?" Penn raised her eyebrow in anticipation,as well as the mugs of ale.

[Farael]

"it's the orc," said Farael "I saw him before and I think he's talking to someone else. Try ignoring it, we are safe here. There are more watchful eyes in the Green Dragon Inn than what you would think by sitting there and having an ale or two."

Farael turned around, his back to the orc and smiled at Tindomion "I believe you know my name, but I do not know yours Master elf. I also believe, and I hope you forgive me for my lack of knowledge of your people's customs, that elves are fairly polite people, so why are you frowning and telling me to go if your sister and I were just having a nice conversation?"

"Here's what I think we should do," he went on "I happen to be an archer as well, and a good one at that even if I have not seen combat yet. Would you accept having a little skill competition? perhaps after getting to know each other a little better you will not be so upset that your sister and I" Farael looked at the flower on his tunic "were having a little conversation! Also, Master elf, both your sister and the two of us will be safe from the smelly-one that way."

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Frór looked upon the person who adressed him and then burst in to laughter. . .
"Well If that is all you heard of dwarves I would be dissapointet" he said half laughing. " Denie it, I will not as your information is correct. You see we dwarves are sturborn those mithril shirts that time cannot decay, we could walk from Mordor with out food and still hold our drink better than most men"

Frór leaned back in his chair looking at Penn, hoping for a sign of admiration. . . When he realised this was most likely not to come, he spoke in the most dwarfish tone he could: " A wager you say. Since I have not been drinking so much as master Ibun I will participate in this one, just for the fun. Please sit down and join us"

"Travelling you say, Not by any chance on your way to the Blue Mountains are you?" Frór asked as penn pulled out a chair and joined them.

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=10581) which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

It's now later in the afternoon in the Shire.

The day is pleasant and sunny.

~*~

Volunteers would be appreciated to set up tables and chairs, gotten from the Common Room, for the party to take place later this evening out in the Inn's front yard, Shire time.

~*~

[Arry]

New is brought to the kitchen . . .

Gil and his friends had spent most of the morning practicing for the party tonight, they’d put together a nice list of songs, most of them good to dance to. They were just turning into the little lane that led from the main road to the Inn when Fallon spied smoke billowing up into the sky. The others were hurrying along, intent on cajoling Cook into giving them a little something to tide them over ‘til the evening’s festivities. They were luahing and joking with one another and were paying no attention to the view.

‘Look there!’ said Fallon, pointing to the column of smoke. ‘Something’s burning.’ Gil shaded his eyes with his hand and peered at the smoke. ‘Seems to be near the smokehouse,’ he said. ‘Thank the stars it’s not the barn!’ He took off at a dead run, motioning for the others to follow.

Gil stopped just short of the smokehouse structure; Tomlin, Fallon, and Ferrin, halted just behind him. ‘Well, it’s not on fire,’ Tomlin said, stating the obvious. The others crowded closer to the partially opened door which seemed to be the route for the escaping smoke.

Ferrin inspected the latch, his eyes catching the fact that it seemed to be broken. ‘No accident, this,’ he said, drawing their attention to it. They closed the door tightly and rolled one of the garden’s wheel-barrows up against it to keep it closed. Gil and Tomlin stayed to make sure no one would be getting into it again. And Fallon anf Ferrin ran as quick as they could to the back door of the kitchen.

‘Someone’s broken the latch to the smokehouse and left the door open,’ one of them cried as they tumbled willy-nilly into kitchen proper . . .

[Koobdooga]

‘Oh, I don’t know about a wager.’ Ibun’s eyes twinkled as he looked the lass up and down. ‘Now I could be wrong, but you’ve not the build, or so it seems to me, to drink us Dwarves under the table.’ He thumped Fror on the back, showing how solidly his friend was built. ‘But ye can try it if you’ve set your mind to it.’

Ibun motioned a server to bring over a half dozen more mugs, and another pitcher of ale. ‘Now you realize we’ve been drinking since mid morning . . . I think. Isn’t that right Fror? When that Hobbit brewmaster turned up and was giving out free samples.’ Ibun poured the six mugs full of foaming ale. ‘Now you just finish those off, and maybe a half round more, and you’ll be caught up to us.’

He sat down and grinned at her, egging her on. ‘And I suppose I should introduce myself. You’ve already met Fror, it seems. My name is Ibun Lodestone. And you’re Penn, aren’t you? Penn of the ferrets.’ He smiled again and raised his own mug to Fror and then to her.

[Valier]

Penn raised her mug,and slowly drained,she noticed the blurry image of the two dwarves and couldn't help from giggling and giving a little hiccup.Placing the mug down on the table with a slight jolt,Penn examined the beings in front of her more closely.

Penn had never personally met a Dwarf,she had espied some on trips to Edoras with her father,but sitting infront of two now she was quite impressed,what with their stout stature and their long beards.She thought them a hardy people and was glad to be conversing with them over good ale.

Penn's thoughts were conveyed on her face with a smile,she quickly blushed and took another long draught of ale.Penn pushed her blond hair from out her eyes,her cheeks slightly flushed, she cleared her throat..That's two for me"...She said with a grin."Are you gentle-men headed for the Ered Luin?"

[Undómë]

‘. . . perhaps after getting to know each other a little better you will not be so upset that your sister and I,' Farael looked at the flower on his tunic, 'were having a little conversation!’

I highly doubt that! thought Tindomion to himself. He kept his expression neutral as the man finished speaking. ‘Yes, no doubt, we will be safer with weapons at hand,’ he said, nodding his head at Farael. ‘The High King’s Peace aside, I have no trust of Sauron’s minions, especially his Orcs. I’ve seen too often the death they bring. Cruel death. And for the most part, solely for the sport of it.’

Telu spoke up, saying that perhaps they should go back to the Inn, to fetch their bows and quivers. ‘I’ll bring mine, too,’ she said, taking her brother’s arm as they started back toward the Dragon. Tindo raised his brow at her suggestion, then laughed.

‘You think to beat me this time, little sister?’ he chuckled. ‘Don’t deny it! I can see it written in your eyes.’ He peered around Telu to where Farael walked along beside her. ‘She never forgave our father or Thranduil for forbidding her to join our ranks. She really is quite good, you know.’

[Captain Grishnahk]

Grishnahk watched as the people before him walked away. The orc beside him jumped to his feet once they were a good deal away.
"Aye now!" he sneered, "a nice lil' place 'ere, eh? Safe and sound from the world about ye."
"What do you want," Grishnahk said, towering about the greasy goblin.
"You knows good and wells why we's 'ere." the orc said stooping close to the ground and backing up a few feet. One could tell that this orc was terrified of the Captain, but the orc kept his head as well as he could.
"We," Grishnahk said in thought, "I see now, it's not just Them looking for me, is it? He's got the whole lot of ya searchin'."
"Aye!" shouted the orc, he seamed pleased, and smiled revealing his teethless mouth, "He are!"
Grishnahk drew his dagger, he had left his better weapons inside, but this foul maggot would be easy to dispose of.

A shreik was heard from afar off.

[Koobdooga]

Ibun looked at Fror and then back to Penn. The young woman was giggling! And here she was only on her second mug of ale, her cheeks a little flushed. He thought perhaps she might be only a mug away from regretting she had made a wager with them.

He chuckled as she asked about Ered Luin. ‘ “Gentlemen” . . . now there is a compliment I don’t often hear! About the Blue Mountains - yes, we two just met here at the Inn and found out we are both headed in that direction. I’m hoping to find some of my kin and give them an invitation from my King to return to Khazad-dum.’

‘You haven’t by any chance come from that way, have you, Penn? This is the farthest west I’ve traveled. It would be nice to know what lies ahead.’

He leaned forward and took her empty mug from in front of her, wondering if she would indeed drink another. From a pocket in his vest he fished out a short pipe and filled the bowl with pipeweed from a much handled leather pouch. He offered it to Penn and Fror.

[piosenniel]

Cook was just coming up the stairs to the cellar beneath the kitchen when the two lads burst through the door. ‘What’s this about the smokehouse?’ she demanded, putting the small bag of dried beans down on the counter.

Fallan and Ferrin began talking at once, their words tumbling all over one another. Cook cleared her throat at a brief pause in their dialog and fixed them with a look of impatience. Ferrin hissed at his brother to shut up for a moment, then proceeded to tell Cook, in a clearer manner what they had discovered. ‘And Gil and Tomlin shut the door back up and are keeping guard in case the culprit comes back!’ he said at last, looking pleased that they had made such a good plan.

‘Get right back out there and tell those two brave fools to get themselves in here! The culprit come back, indeed!’ she snorted. ‘And what if he does come back and it’s some big old bear or some thoroughly nasty critter of the two legged variety. What are they planning on doing, then?’ Fallon and Ferrin shrugged their shoulders at her question and hurried back out the door to fetch their friends.

‘Ruby!’ said Cook, arming herself with the heavy, iron fireplace poker. ‘You run and fetch the Shiriff. And tell Halfred to bring along his deputies. I’m going out to see what’s been taken. I’ll be back directly.’

[Farael]

The group made it back into the Inn and the elves and man went into their rooms. Farael told the brothers he might take an extra few minutes, yet fifteen minutes turned into half an hour and the man had not yet come back from his room. Tindomion was already thinking Farael had changed his mind and gone for a nap when he walked into the room. He was wearing a light mail and a black surcoat over it, with the image of the white tree on his chest. On his belt hung a short sword in its scabbard and slung over his shoulder were his bow and quiver. All this equipment was for showmanship rather than protection, but he had earned the privilege of wearing those clothes and he did so on every occasion that called for it. He also wore them on occasions that did not call for it, such as this one.

“I hope you forgive me if I am late, Master Elf, but I had not had time to wash these garments since I walked in after about a week in the jungle. They were not presentable enough for Telu…yaviel” he finished, after a glare from her brother. “Still, m’lady I have not been able to get this beautiful flower back in my clothes. Perhaps you’d care to help me?” he offered her the flower and she secured it again, this time on his mail, over his shoulder.

The trio went back out on the Inn’s grounds and Farael excused himself for a minute, running into the nearby trees. He came back shortly after carrying a piece of bark –which he found on the ground- he explained before the elves could complain. There was enough dirt on it to argue in favour of Farael and so the siblings did not complain when he carved a target on the wood. He laid it against a tree and counted twenty long steps from it. Then he explained what the contest would be like. Each would have five arrows, one point would be given for a shot on the centre of the target, half a point would be given for a shot right outside the centre and no points would be given for a miss. He offered going first to illustrate his own game. The arrows would have to be retrieved after each shot so that the target would not be too clogged and so Tindomion stood half-way to the target, hoping the man would be accurate enough not to hit him.

Farael nocked an arrow, pulled the string and released it in one soft motion. His aim was true and he hit the target almost dead centre. Tindomion retrieved the arrow, placed the makeshift target back on its spot and Farael tried again. This time he was not as accurate, gaining only half a point. Same thing happened on his following attempt. With two arrows left, he hoped he would not embarrass himself by missing yet he managed to hit centre on both tries. Having a score of four out of a possible five was quite a feat for any human archer, but the smug look in Tindomion’s face told him it might not be so for an elf.

The next to try was Teluyaviel. Her first try was slightly to the left of centre, but she corrected her aim and her following four attempts were right on the mark. With four and a half points she was on the lead, but judging by her brother’s smile, it would not be for too long.

Tindomion’s first attempt was right on the centre of the target. The following three were all but a carbon-copy of the first. Farael could see Teluyaviel’s disappointment as she was about to be bested by her older brother yet again, but that was not on Farael’s plans. As Tindomion was winding up to release his last arrow, Farael coughed rather noisily and grabbed his throat as if he were choking. Tindomion’s arrow went wild and far off the mark, while the man seemed to recover quite quickly. “My grand mother always said, keep your mouth shut else a fly finds its way in.” he explained, “ I guess she was right for I felt something go down my throat rather unexpectedly. I am fine now, let’s see how you did with that last arrow.” Farael walked over to the target rather dramatically and retrieved an arrow from the tree behind it. “Well, who could have known!! It seems the winner has been Teluyaviel!!” he bowed to her and to Tindomion’s dismay he even offered her his arm for the walk back into the Inn. “I will buy the best archer among us an ale, and her brother as well so that maybe after a little talk we will actually know each other better.” Tindomion’s frown was enough to tell that Farael’s little archery contest had not been enough to appease the elf.

[Valier]

Penn looked longingly at the weed,but Pip had long since stolen and hidden her pipe."Why thank you fine sir,but I seem to have misplaced mine,thanks to Pip.If you have one to spare,that would be greatly appreciated."Penn smiled and reached for another ale and downed half the mug before she answered."No I have not come from that way.I hail from the outskirts of Rohan,this is the farthest West I have been as well."

What Fror and Ibun had no inkling of, was Penn grew up around men and men who liked to drink at that.She was giggly and flush,yes but far from inebriation.The flush was more from the thought of the Dwarves then the ale.She placed her mug roughly on the table and reached for another.Taking a long puff of the pipe they lent her,she proceeded to blow smoke rings at the ceiling."Khazadum,now that would be a sight to see!Are you both going there?" Penn asked as she looked from Fror to Ibun."I would love to see the great works of the Dwarves!" Her eyes lit up At the thought of the great halls."I have never seen such things in my short life."

Penn could count,but twenty years and what had she achieved? nothing,no glory,no valor,no love even,nothing.Penn frowned slightly at the thought,but quickly recovered and drank the last of the mug she held in her hand."That's three for me,I believe."At the moment she placed her mug on the table and taking a puff,reaching for another ale,Pip decided to make himself seen.

He climbed out the bag,up her arm and proceeded to try and pry the still smoking pipe from her fingers."Well my dear friends,I do say this is Pip."Penn lightly picked Pip up by his white scruff,much to his dismay."Be nice!" Penn said to the ball of fur."Would you care to touch him? I would show you Merr as well,if you would like. he is for lack of better words fat and quite lazy,but I will retreive him." Penn reached down and produced a VERY large ball of fur which seemed to be still asleep.

Placing him in her lap,she held out Pip to the two Dwarves."Go ahead he won't bite,he might like your beards though."Penn took another long draught of her ale.

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Frór looked at the two hairballs that Penn had presentet for him and Ibun. Apperantly they where animals, but they reminded Frór mostley of some strange dish he once had eaten on a vissit to Lake-Town.

"My beard is for me alone and no animal shall come close to it as long as I can yield an ax, nomatter how friendly or small it is". Frór said with a twingle in his eye. He then litt his pipe and startet smoking, after some puffs he adressed Penn again.

"I have yet to see the marvels of what you call Dwarrowdelf or Phurunargian allthough I don't think the latter is used that often anymore. But If they are just half as magnificent as they say, It would still be the greates Dwarven Kingdom of them all and that is saying alot. My own home in the Iron Hills is a quite spectacular place, but nothing compared with Erebor and Aglarond should be even more amasing. Atleast so I have heard. For now I am Heading for the Blue Mountains seeking a relative of mine."

Frór finished his ale and porred him self another mug, no dwarf had ever been beaten in a drinking contest. Atleast not to his knowledge.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

A faint chill hit the corridor as the door swung open. A couple of people hurrying hither and thither shot quick glances at the newcomer and promptly scurried away out of sight. A black cat bolted from its hiding place and disappeared into one of the far rooms. For a fleeting moment, the atmosphere was taut.

As Ciro entered the inn proper his thoughts needed collecting, and quickly. The Green Dragon was as charming as the taverns he had frequented when he was a young man, and one look at the array of fine ales on the tables and at the bar assured him that this was as adequate a location as might be. However, the looks directed at him by the clientele were interrogative enough to make him bow his head. He hoped the glares were only a consequence of his less than stellar appearance: he was pale and rather gaunt after the roads he had taken recently. Whatever the reason, his wish to remain inconspicuous had been denied.

Despite this trouble, Ciro was eagerly checking every corner of the room with his piercing blue eyes. A diverse parade of characters occupied the room; and it was light and warm inside the Green Dragon. Something was missing, though. The inn was devoid of the one thing Ciro had wanted to find within its walls. For an instant his hope flickered, and Ciro felt a growing sense of vulnerability.

So he was relieved to hear the sound of breaking glass as someone on the other side of the room knocked over a pint. All eyes were off Ciro for the moment, and he gratefully escaped from the entrance to an empty booth. He had finally made it to the Green Dragon, and here he would now have to wait.

[Valier]

At the moment Penn went to hand Pip over to the Dwarves,the door opened and closed and a figure walked in.Pip who did not like to be held struggled and knocked over Penn's ale on his way back to his bag.Merr was content for the time being to sleep sprawled on her lap,until the ale from the table began to drip on his head.He yawned, opened his eyes and waddled back to the bag as well.

Penn jumped up."Oh I am so sorry." she said as she raced to the bar to fetch a cloth.The man that had entered caught her eye for a moment.Penn smiled and hurried back to the table to clean up the spill.Her attention had slipped as it often did away for a moment and she had forgotten what they were talking about...

"Uuummm..Did you ask me a question? the ale had distracted me for a moment,"But her distraction was not the ale it was the man that sat alone at a booth that had distracted her.There was something about him,he looked a little.... lost maybe? She did not know.Penn covered her face again with a mug of ale,downing all it's contents, letting out a slight burp.She blushed again.Maybe this ale was getting to her.She tossed her hair in an excuse to get another look at the man.then again lifted ,yet another ale to her lips.

Maybe it was the behavior of Pip's mad dash to the bag that made her look twice at the man or maybe it was something in his eyes that told her he didn't want to be noticed.Penn turned her attetion to the Dwarves once again."I guess Pip does not wish to be held".she said with a shrug."Come on master Dwarves I think I am up on you."Penn laughed as she looked down at the empty ale glasses.a bit too loud,for more guests were starting to stare.

[Undómë]

Seeing the look on her brother’s face, Telu thought the better of taking Farael’s arm. She knew Tindo’s limits, and knew also that he had been pushed very near them. She clasped her hands behind her back and walked between the two of them.

The man cheats! he spoke to her mind. And for no reason than to gain your favor. Tindomion looked coldly at Farael. And who is he to put on the High King’s garb? I shouldn’t wonder if he’d stolen it off some unfortunate guard in Gondor.

‘Tindo!’ Telu gasped aloud. ‘Your words are cruel. You have no right to judge . . .'

I have every right, Teluyaviel. His reasons cut off her further speech to him. It was our parents who charged me to take care of you on this trip. To see that you came to no harm. Mother, especially, who said I was to keep you close until we both could return to the Havens and sail West. And you also promised that you would defer to me to make the best decisions for you . . . on this, this hare-brained trip of yours. Here we are less than a fortnight’s ride from the pier our parents sailed from and you begin to tread down a dangerous road.

All color fled her face at his words.

I have nothing more to say to you. Save that it is too late to set out now from the Inn, else we would pack up and do so. He stopped and shook his head at her. Make your good-byes this evening. I trust you can do so without compromising yourself completely. Tomorrow early we leave.

Tindo turned on his heel and headed back to the barn, intent on giving the stablemaster instructions to have their horses ready at day break.

Telu watched his retreating back. A curious look was on her face. A mingling of both regret and decision. She turned back toward Farael and took his arm. ‘I think I’ll pass on the ale,’ she said, her steps quickening toward the Inn. ‘But a glass of wine would be most welcome. A large glass. Red. And from Dorwinion if the Dragon has some.’ She glanced back once to where her brother had gone, but he was lost to sight. Telu put a smile on and looked at Farael. ‘Your intentions were admirable,’ she said, ‘but perhaps next time you can let me win or lose on my own.’ She sighed, speaking low, as if to herself. ‘I don’t think I could stand one more well-intentioned male trying to run my life for me . . .’

[Farael]

"I heard that Teluyaviel. Your last comment I mean. Before that I would swear that you were listening to your brother although I could not hear anything. I shall not ask what goes on between siblings, I will not ask what his cruel words were." Farael smiled at Telu politely " But I will answer for what concerns me. I do not intend to run your life for you m'lady, but my kind cannot wait for ever to get what they want. Sometimes we must refrain our impulses yet I saw no harm in my little... trick. What I wanted m'lady is far from what your brother seems to think, for I know our kinds are different and only the great of my kind can aspire to a fair lady such as yourself..." He let his words drift off, as he was lost in thought

"But I was looking for something much more..." Farael struggled to find the right word "possible, perhaps? I have admired your beautiful face, I have heard your soft, melodious voice and I have had the privilege of having a little, quiet conversation with you for some time. I am honoured indeed that you have chosen me to keep you company yet, greedy as only men can be, I was also hoping to see you smile." He took yet another pause as he needed to get his thoughts in order

"I might have overstepped my boundaries, but I thought it would do no harm. Still, I shall buy you a glass of wine and maybe then you and your brother shall forgive me." Said Farael, while holding the door open for Teluyaviel.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro started cleaning his fingernails, and not only because they were rather dirty. He needed to focus his mind on something and, more importantly, keep his head down. Ciro was of a nervous disposition, and too much eye contact with anyone else could be a bad idea at this time. He was all too aware of a young girl at a far table eagerly trying to catch his eye.

Ciro braced himself. He knew, of course, that he would have to interact with other people but he could not convince himself that he was ready for such activity. He did not trust himself. Not only that, he did not trust the orchestrator of this scenario. Who had placed him here? Who was on his side? How could he accomplish his goal when all was unsure?

He sighed deeply and swept his hair back from his face. He glanced at the girl who was now offering him a funny smile. Ciro guessed she had had a few too many ales, so he smiled back at her. She seemed safe enough, and, if nothing else, he could probably amuse her sufficiently to win a much-needed drink.

[Koobdooga]

Ciro is sent an invitation to join the Dwarves and Penn

Ibun chuckled at the young woman’s declaration. ‘Come on Master Dwarves I think I am up on you!’ He topped off her mug and shook his head. ‘Nay, Miss! Fror and I have been at it steadily since breakfast this day. You’ve many more you’ll need to down before you’re even caught up to us!’ He took long pull at his own cup to emphasize his point.

‘Do you know that fellow that’s just come in?’ he asked, noting her gaze toward the man with the blue eyes. ‘Looks a little road worn, I think. Perhaps we should invite him over. Be interesting to hear what brings him to Bywater. What do you say?’

One of the Hobbit servers was hailed with instructions to ask the ‘man over there’ if he’d like to join them at their table. ‘And bring us back a basket of bread and cheese if you will,’ he asked. ‘And maybe a plate of sliced ham with that fine Dragon mustard. We'll be needing something to sop us all this good ale in our bellies!’

Ibun fetched out his pouch of pipe weed and fished about in one of his vests inner pockets. ‘Here, Penn,’ he said, drawing out a smoke stained clay pipe. ‘Here’s an extra one I have, if you don’t mind it being well used. Not the prettiest one to look at, but it draws well.’ He offered the pouch and pipe to her.

[Valier]

Penn refilled her pipe with weed and took a long pull,again blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.She enjoyed smoking and was fast to make a game of it,trying to reach all the rings all the way to the ceiling.This seemed to relax and distract her for a few moments.

Penn had asked the Dwarves to a wager in hopes of making a few freinds,she really did not expect to win and now she was feeling a little giddy.Not wanting the Dwarves to think her a silly ,drunk girl,she again took a sip of her ale,but with a more stoic posture.Ibun had seen her glances towards the strange man.He invited him over and ordered some food.

Penn was a little disappointed for Men often thought her silly,and paid her no heed.Indeed this stranger with the piercing blue eyes, would no doubt probably think the same of her.

Frowning Penn again preoccupied herself with smoking,dreading the man's approach, after the broken mug and the loud laughing what else would he think?

[Undómë]

‘My brother, I think, will not forgive you, Farael. And, in truth, I will be lucky if I am forgiven.’ Telu started up the steps to the Inn’s door, shrugging her shoulders slightly as if to shake off unpleasant thoughts.

‘Pardon us, lady!’ The door banged open and two Hobbit men came through bearing a large table between them. When she looked at them, surprised, the one at the back grinned and nodded toward the front lawn. ‘Going to be a party tonight, Miss. Food and drink and music and dancing! Just setting up for it.’ They hurried past her and down to the grass where a short argument ensued. ‘She told us to put it over there, Minto!’ the one in the back said. ‘Oh, that she did,’ the one in front returned, pulling his companion along. ‘But I’m thinking it’ll do better over there by those bushes.’

‘A party, Farael!’ Telu leaned on the railing of the porch and watched the Hobbits maneuver the table into position. ‘Perhaps our stars are lucky today . . . perhaps this is one of your “possibilities”.’ She turned and regarded him thoughtfully. This might be one of her last pleasant memories of Middle-earth, she thought. That is, if Tindo had not had a change of heart and allowed her to stay a little longer. A light flush tinged the fine bones of her cheeks. And she managed a smile at the boldness of her request. ‘You’ll be free, won’t you? I should like to go with you to this . . . party.’

Her courage seemed to flee her. She could just hear her brother saying she was ‘reckless’, once again. And what would Farael think of her request? She had only known him for a little while. She had no rights to make demands upon him and his time. The fingers of one hand rested lightly on his forearm. ‘That is, if you are going . . . would you mind my tagging along, too? I promise, I won’t be in your way.’

[Farael]

Farael smiled "not on my way, you say? well, I would be more than glad if you would accept going to the party with me rather than just 'tagging along'. And rather than not being in my way would you mind, eh..." It was his turn to blush now "well, I have learned many things in my short life but I eh... I never learned to dance"

He did not dare to ask the question as such, but he left it to Telu to decide if she would like to teach him how to dance or not. "In the mean time, do you think it is fair for them halflings to do all the work? I think it would only be fair that we helped them if we want to join the party as well!" He said as he walked inside to look for the Innkeeper and ask her where he could help.

[piosenniel]

~*~ Announcement ~*~

You are all invited to post in The Yule Log (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=12478) in Rohan. Just read Bêthberry’s introductory post and join in at The Green Man Free House for the next few weeks.

Come share a story of ghosties, and ghoulies, and sharp toothed goblins for the days of the Winter’s Yule while the fire burns bright and warm and the drink flows freely.


~*~ Pio

[Arry]

Gil and Tomlin were hiding in the thick bushes to the south of the Inn’s smokehouse. They were crouched down, the only thing visible their eyes, perhaps, when the light caught them. Their ears were open wide for sounds of any approach and their eyes scanned the area to sea if the culprit might come back.

Tomlin nudged Gil, his head nodding in a vaguely northerly direction. The sounds of some four legged beast, it seemed, could be heard in the distance, growing louder as it crashed across the Inn yard toward them. They were about to bolt and run, when they heard familiar voices call their names.

‘Over here!’ cried Gil, standing up from his hiding place. He listened to Cook’s instructions and shook his ‘No’ as Ferrin came to the end of them. ‘We can’t leave Cook to be out here by herself!’ he declared, his sense of male pride offended at the thought. ‘We’ll just wait for her . . . and the Shiriff. Make sure she’s alright.’

‘And what if it’s a bear . . . a big bear . . . with long sharp teeth and claws like she said,’ whispered Fallon, as the four of them hunkered down in the bushes.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro sighed heavily, again. He had just been been notified by a chirpy little serving-hobbit that the group of Dwarves sitting across the room had requested that he join them. He looked over to where the Hobbit pointed and saw that they were sitting with the girl who had been watching him since he arrived. It would be rude not to join them; moreover it would immediately appear suspicious, as no ordinary tourist would turn down the chance of fellowship and cheer.

Ciro thanked the hobbit and stood up. Leaving his booth, he walked slowly towards his first test. Concentrate, he told himself, you cannot slip now.

He arrived at the table, and smiled at his would-be friends. Their overall demeanour was jovial, and Ciro could certainly envisage an easier time at the Green Dragon than he had previously feared.

"Good day, my Dwarves! I am most gracious and glad of your invite. Some company and some luncheon will suit me well. And greetings to you, my lady. I hope I have not scared you with my ragged appearance."

"My name is Ciro," he said with a grin.

[Naria]

Riding her horse Flicker, a speckled Perchon breed, Naria came to a halt in front of the inn. Being from Rohan she was well suited for such a big animal. She dismounted and securely tied him to a post outside and told him to stay calm and get some rest. She had learned from an elder in Rohan how to speak with her horse and other smaller creatures.

Naria approached the inn and walked through the door. Fixing her tossled auburn hair,she walked up too the bar and ordered a tall ale. Waiting for her beverage she took notice of all the goings on. She clasped the ale with much gratitude and took a long needed drink, then look around for an appropriate seat and took it.

Naria heared a ruckus next to her table and noticed three drunkards; two dwarves and with back too her, what appears to be a female. She thinks to herself "maybe that person will be my apprentice and learn the gift of speaking to the animals."

Her attention is quickly averted when she realizes that she hasn't eaten in a day or so. Leaving her seat and approaching the barkeep Naria asks for some food.

[piosenniel]

Cook hurried along, the heavy iron poker grasped firmly in her hand. It was not long before she neared the smokehouse, its door hanging a little ajar. She stopped, casting her gaze about the area. She could see nothing or no one lurking nearby, nor hear any movement in the smokehouse itself.

With as quiet a step as she could muster, Cook crept up to the door, the poker held bravely before her. She got just close enough to swing open the door with the tip of her erstwhile weapon, then stepped closer, peering into the smoky interior.

A loud voice from behind startled her. And she rounded on what she thought might be the thief-returned, the poker held high.

[Arry]

‘It’s just us, Cook!’ cried Gil, as he and the others stood up from their hiding place in the bushes. Farron’s hands pushed him out of the way as Cook swung on them with the heavy iron poker.

They were just scrambling to get out of her way, when Halfred and his two deputies came pounding toward them on their ponies, stout clubs in hand. ‘After them, men!’ the Shiriff commanded, finger pointing at the scattering lads.

Minto and Mungo soon had them subdued and rounded up, ignoring their protests of innocence. ‘Oh to be sure,’ said Minto poking Tomlin in the back as he nudged him toward the Shiriff. ‘And isn’t that what they all say when they’re caught in the act!’

‘Well, now, Miz Bunce,’ Halfred began, a smile of satisfaction on his face for a job well and quickly done. ‘What got taken by these miscreants?’ Halfred smiled again, this time at the chance to try out a new word he’d recently learned.

[Koobdooga]

Ciro is invited to sit down

‘Welcome, Master Ciro!’ Ibun rose to his feet and indicated that the man be welcome to sit down with them. ‘Were passing time until the party this evening,’ he went on, waving his hand over the pitchers of ale and the plates of bread cheese and ham that had been brought to the table.

‘Please join us, if you will.’ He introduced those at the table starting with himself and working round to Fror, then Penn and her now sleeping ferrets.

He held up the pipe he was smoking. ‘And after, if you’ve a mind to, there’s good Shire leaf aplenty to settle down the last of the ale.’ Ibun poured a mug of ale for their new tablemate and offered him the basket of bread and plate of cheese and ham. Then, taking some for himself, he took a few bites and munched on them appreciatively.

‘So – if you don’t mind my asking. Where have you come from and where are you bound?’ Ibun took a swig of ale and sat back as the man considered the question.

[piosenniel]

‘Now hold on, Halfred,’ cried Cook, coming to her senses. ‘These fool lads were trying to catch whoever or whatever it was that broke into the smokehouse.’ She gave Gil and his companions a shake of her head. ‘And here I almost brained them! My golly, they scared me half to death!’

Minto and Mungo released the four suspects once Halfred had assessed the situation all round and come to the conclusion that none of them were the thief. Cook ordered the lads back to the Inn. ‘Let Halfred manage here,’ she said, giving Tomlin the poker to take back to the kitchen. ‘And we’ve a party to think of this evening. Best you lads lend your strong backs to getting it set up.’

Halfred, in the meantime had been inspecting the smokehouse while his deputies looked at the surrounding area. ‘Took some raw meat, whoever it was,’ said the Shiriff, noting the dried blood trailing out of the door and into the more forested area. ‘And two-legged, too,’ chimed in Minto, pointing to the scuffed tracks about the smokehouse.

Mungo, his father a locksmith from Hobbiton, stood looking at the broken latch. ‘Let me just ride to my father’s workshop. I’ll get that fixed up right as rain in no time.’ Halfred nodded and off Mungo went.

‘I’ll leave it in your good hands, Halfred, to find the culprit,’ Cook said as she started back toward the Inn. ‘Oh,’ she went on, turning back toward the Shiriff and his deputy. ‘Bring your wives to the Inn this evening. There’s a fellow in with some casks of ale he wants us to try out. There’ll be plenty of food and the drink to wash it down with. And dancing.’ Then she was on her way again and soon back in the kitchen.

[Undómë]

‘Well, then, we shall both have to learn to dance!’ She grinned at him and shook her head as they entered the Inn. ‘I doubt the Shire folk dance any of the steps I learned.’ She looked about at the Hobbits in the front yard. ‘They seem a merry folk. I’m thinking their tunes will be quite lively, their dances, too.’ She looked him up and down, then back at the more casual dress of the Halflings.

‘I think you might want to wear something a bit less formal for the party,’ she said, her gaze assessing his present clothes. ‘Something you’ll feel free to work up a bit of – sweat.’

The innkeeper set the two of them to different tasks. Farael was asked to help set up the tables and chairs outside. And haul the barrels of ale out and the racks of wine. Telu was asked to gather flowers for table decorations and to help string the little lanterns along the verandah and in the trees that bordered the yard.

The two went their separate ways, promising to meet that evening when the merriment began.

[Valier]

Penn looked up into the man Ciro's blue eyes."No apology needed good sir,for we are or were all travel worn at one time or another,your look does not startle me."
"Please have a seat."

Penn's attention was again wavering,for she saw a woman,possible from Rohan with the most gorgeous of auburn hair approaching the bar.I must greet her and ask her where she hails fromTurning to the dwarves and Ciro,Penn proclaimed shyly "Do you gentlemen plan on participating in the festivities?"

Penn's shyness was due to the fact she knew there would be dancing,and she could not dance well at all ,having never really been taught."I would excuse myself for a little while,I would like to see if I could help with the preparations."She smiled sweetly at Ciro and bowed to the Dwaves."you have both bested me ...for now on the ale,I dare say I will rejoin you in a bit?"

Penn stopped at the bar to see if she could offer her help for the party,and smiled at the woman with the auburn hair."Greetings! Are you coming to the festivities this night?I could not help but notice are you from Rohan?For I also hail from there,and it would always be nice to chat with another from our great realm."

Penn twisted her hair absentmindedly waiting for the woman's response.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro sat down as Penn left. He thought her a nice girl; but he had no time to dwell on that. It was imperative that he concentrated on the Dwarf's question and that he mask his troubles.

"Here's to you fine Dwarves!" Ciro said politely, and drank long from the pint Ibun had offered him. The ale of the Green Dragon was fit for a King, and Ciro was eased within seconds of tasting it. He steadied himself.

"As to your question" Ciro said, "where should I begin? For I have arrived here from a broken road, always careering this way and that; and where I am bound I do not know." Ciro watched the Dwarves silently assessing his performance and, once again, considered exactly what he should tell them. Ciro now spoke in a quite low voice.

"I seek a man. He is scheduled to meet me at this here Inn. He is from the South, and East somewhat. He has information which I would hear because it concerns matters that are close to me. You may have marked my nervous entrance; well, this meeting has been rather a long time coming.

"But I have not long since been in the North and the East. It was around two years ago now when I was rather busy over in that direction." And now raising his voice, Ciro exclaimed "For this reason I have been lucky enough to mingle with a number of Dwarves. Tell me! where do you hail from?"

Ciro leaned back in his chair, feeling more comfortable despite the look of interest in the eyes of the Dwarves. He took some much-needed bread.

[Koobdooga]

Ibun looked at the man with interest, a certain curiosity growing in his mind. Ciro, or so he said his name was, spoke as if he walked upon the face of one of those compasses he’d seen the Rangers using at times to find their way. North and East! South and East! The fellow dissembled as if he meant to blur his trail as much as possible.

Now there was an interesting consideration. Someone was on his trail, perhaps. That man from the south and east? Or maybe it was Ciro who was the pursuer. Who could tell? The man was a nervous sort, glib talker, but his expression revealed nothing further to consider.

The Dwarf was feeling foolhardy enough, with plenty of mugs beneath his belt, that he pushed away the question Ciro had thrown at him and Fror. Plenty of time to get to where he was from, he had nothing to hide.

‘So,’ Ibun said, drawing out the word. He took a small sip from his ale, peering all the while over the top of it toward Ciro. ‘Let me just get this clear in my drink-fuddled brain. You haven’t been in the North and East for a while. You’re expecting a visit from someone from the South and East. Does that put you in the only two quadrants left as your starting point? Either some point northwest of here or south west?’ A sudden thought struck him. ‘Or way west, or north, or south, or east. It’s all so vague, it makes my poor head swim.’ He took another drink, this one longer.

‘I must say, I do like puzzles. Does the place you started from have a name or is near somewhere with a name? Something like . . . Khazad-dum, perhaps. Where I’ve come from?’

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro smiled. He was feeling far more comfortable now. This old Dwarf, Ibun, was clearly an amiable companion; and Ciro was glad to talk and laugh with someone else. It had been so long since he had been in such a position. Still, he couldn't let his guard down. His new friend could, despite being slowed by ale and smoke, clearly see some things behind Ciro's eyes which had not been covered carefully enough. He had to fix his story.

"Khazad-dum!" he marvelled. "I have never been, though I have heard the glorious tales like any other Man of the West. It has been the Iron Hills where I have talked at length with Dwarves." He paused for a moment, and looked out the window. All he could see were green roads.

"I am from Arnor." Ciro continued. "But I travel extensively. I have contacts from numerous places in Middle-earth, and I am meeting this Southern Man here beside the Shire because our roads finally merge. We have business to discuss." Ciro took another drink and watched the hobbits hurry to and fro around the table. He thought to himself that he had handled this encounter well. Any mention of 'business' to a stranger was a sure-fire way of covering your bets. Ciro was in no way obliged to answer any questions about his 'business'.

"I come to you now from Rohan" he said. "More dangerous than I had thought it would be, down there. I was waylaid twice!" Ciro caught the glint in the Dwarves' eyes and knew that, with this promised tale of excitement, he had evaded the more piercing questions. He smiled at the memory of his adventures in Rohan.

[Farael]

...I could not help but notice are you from Rohan?For I also hail from there,and it would always be nice to chat with another from our great realm...

"From Rohan, eh?" Interrupted Farael as he walked by carrying a fairly big table by himself "well ladies, I hate to interrupt but I seem to have overestimated my own strenght... would you mind if I asked for a little help with this table?" He set the table he had been 'carrying' (more like dragging) down and smiled at the ladies from Rohan "I believe Penn alerady knows me. My name is Farael, from Gondor. I was stationed in your beautiful country once, while in the army" his mind now wondered to his mail now carefully stowed in his room after Telu's suggestion "and I must say, it is indeed a beautiful country, full of beautiful women. I also had the pleasure of seeing Lady Eowyn once, and of course hearing all she did for our people... no, for all the free people of Middle Earth. But I was wondering, would you mind showing me some of the strenght you Rohrrim women say to have and help me carry the tables outside?"

Farael grinned, finding his own joke quite amusign but the glare he received told him it might have not been the case. "In any case I would very much appreciate your help. If you want to, of course" Without really waiting for an answer, or expecting much help, he started struggling with the table again, towards the door.

[Koobdooga]

‘The Iron Hills, you say? Now that’s where Fror here is from.’ Ibun sensed a chance to make a trading contact, hearing the man had already had dealings with those of his kind. Though, he thought to himself, best he size up the man a bit more before making the invitation.

He ran the name Arnor about in his mind. The High King in Gondor, he recalled, had laid claim to being the ruler of the reunited kingdom. Arnor was the northern part of it, he thought. Ibun eyed Ciro through the smoke he’d just exhaled. Arnor . . . hmmm . . . and wasn’t that where that witch-king had been from? Him and his foul cronies.

Ibun chewed on the stem of his pipe, thinking. No – not Arnor that was Angmar, the Iron Land, further north, where the winged shadows had lived. Dunedain, like the High King, those were who had lived in Arnor.

‘Never been to the Horse-master’s land,’ he spoke aloud. He shook his head at the thought of the great beasts said to have come from there. ‘Give me a good, sturdy pony, or a nice little donkey. To pull my wagon that is, or pack my goods. Silly to ride astride those big brutes they have there. Don’t look too trustworthy to me.’ He leaned back in his chair and considered the thought of horses and who would ride them. ‘Course, you men have your own odd ways of doing things.’ He patted the side of his leg with his free hand. ‘Legs’re good enough for us Dwarves. Keeps us closer to the ground.’

‘Tell us about that waylaying you mentioned if you will,’ Ibun went on. ‘We met a man here, come from Gondor on a business trip. His party was set on, too. By ruffians he thought, though he was n’t sure it wasn’t Orc.’

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

"It has been the Iron Hills where I have talked at length with Dwarves" When Ciro spoke these words, it was as a fire startet burning inside Frór. Here he was in a land many miles frome something even remotley close to his home and now out of nowhere he was sitting drinking with a man who had actually vissitet his Home.

Frór took a sip of his ale and cleared his throat, then he spoke to Ciro: "Tell me when did you vissit the halls that I have the pleasure of calling home? Seldom do travelers frome this side of the Misty Mountains come to our halls. Sureley It would have been easier to vissit the Blue Mountains or Khazad-dum if you needed the skills of the Dwarves?"

When Frór thought about he could not recall any men frome Arnor vissiting his home in the resent years. He found it hard to belive that such news should not have reached his ear, after all he was not a dwarf without importance. Eiher this man was older than he looked or he would had arrived at the Iron Hills after Frór's departuer. The latter was not unlikely to be the case as Frór's jurney had taken atleast a month more than it should have done.

[Naria]

Before she would reply to Penn, Naria took a big chomp out of her mutton. With mouth full she turned around to see who had spoken to her. She had recognized her right away, it was the same woman who had caught her eye earlier. While Penn was still twisting her hair; Naria responded with a nod and swallowed her food.

"Why yes she replied, I am from Rohan." She looked at Penn inquisitively and wondered what the woman of Rohan had too offer. Giggling to herself at the wobbling Penn, Naria also wondered if she would really be the right person for an apprenticeship.

Naria asked the wide eyed Penn if she would like to come and meet a friend. Since they are both from Rohan Naria thought that Penn would enjoy Flicker's company. As Naria turned around too lead Penn outside they were suddenly stopped by a man looking as though he had a question too ask.

-----

Finding this man's humour a little intriguing, Naria glances over at Penn and readily helps Farael. While grunting and pulling the cumbersome table Naria is quick to advise the man that "Rohan women are strong and maybe even a might stronger than our men."

But she digresses. Putting the table in its place, Naria takes a long stare at the man and feels something that she hasn't yet felt before. Confused she asks him if there is anything else he would like help with. She cleared her head and the action of putting the table away brought her mind around to asking the same question, about what is going to be taking place here. It sure looks like something big and exciting , she thought to herself.

Naria glanced over at Penn and then at the man and wondered what was in store for herself and her new aquantices.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro fancied that he saw Frór frown slightly as he asked him about his travels. Relax. I haven't made any mistake Ciro assured himself. Perhaps Frór's Dwarves had had difficulty with some travellers recently. Perhaps Frór did not want to believe everything Ciro said.

"Two years ago, or thereabouts" answered Ciro. "And, unfortunately, I did not seek the Dwarves; rather I was forced down that road. All the same, I could not have wished to find better folks. Your people took care of me in a difficult situation and I will remain forever grateful to them." Ciro smiled warmly at Frór. He had, at least, told the truth here. It was unnecessary to tell the Dwarf exactly why he had sought refuge in the East.

Ciro exchanged some words with Ibun regarding the merits of walking and of horses and ponies, raising some laughs with an old fable about a man who outraced a rider by slyly supplying his horse with dainties. The message no doubt appealed to the Dwarves and their fondness for a hard road underneath their feet. But then he turned to the promised tale of his trouble in Rohan. Ciro told how a band of three ruffians assailed him in a deep forest on the east-side of The Wold. He explained that they robbed him of a couple of possessions (nothing too valuable, as he travelled light) but that he managed to slay two of them ere he himself was slain; and that the third man ran off with the goods. The Dwarves seemed glad of Ciro's escape, but at the same time unsurprised that the lone traveller had run into such peril.

"My friends" Ciro said as he stood up, "I must leave you for a few moments. I must see if I can get myself clean, for I had forgotten momentarily just how ragged I appear to you. Excuse me for now."

He bowed to the Dwarves and went to fetch some assistance. As he walked he looked out the window and saw no movement. His talk with the Dwarves had eased his heart, but now his worry came back to him. He was, for now, still alone; the Southern Man was nowhere to be seen.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

I do not wish to be here...

The human woman closed her eyes for a moment, a laugh in her thoughts for a wry moment as she considered the situation. This was a hobbit's town, a hobbit's realm, and hardly meant for people of her stature, at least, in a physical sense of being.

They generally call me short, she thought. The ironic amusement hardly took a moment to sink in before she laughed a moment, a short and abrupt cutting expression. It wasn't as if being tall compared to the locals wasn't a welcomed thought for Ariane Calthye. In fact, it amused her greatly, for once in her life able to see over the tops of people's heads, to see people as the taller ones seen her. To be five one amidst people who ranged up to six seven (the latter encompassing her husband's existance) was never an easy thing.

Here, the locals were, what, three and a half feet? They were children, she thought. Children compared to her.

She opened her eyes. Only a moment had passed over the quick thoughts, the second vanishing as she let her dark eyes snap open and scan the crowd. Of course it would be an inn. Drinking, let's all be merry and get drunk! I can hardly take a glass without falling over...

Fortunately places that offer room and board also offer non-alcoholic beverages. I hardly wish to pass out already. Short is one thing, but I'd likely as not be dragged off on some quest by a deranged wizard, or something of the like. As much as she liked the Shire for the height ease, she was uneasy. Born in Eriador, it wasn't as if Hobbits were a foreign idea to the woman. She had seen them in Bree on occasion.

You've spent far too long in Gondor, her mind murmured before she shushed it with an inner glare towards the voice with the will to speak up on its own.

It doesn't matter where I was before. I'm here now. Here is all fine, even if I don't have a great desire to be here.

Here? Oh, certainly. Here. Here with the wooden walls and wooden tables, the short and tall folk mixed together in a friendly inn's atmosphere. Here where she could close her eyes for a moment and smell not only alcohol as most inns seemed to offer, but food, mirth, and vague body sweat and grime. Here.

At least here no one was going to try cut her down. Here, the worse she thought she might get was a bit tipsy from too much ale in the air or stepped on by one of the taller being inhabiting the inn at the same time as the halflings. Ariane didn't feel like sitting just yet, so she remained off to the side, standing with a loose expression as she examined the scene with a more intensive look, her left hand's fingers twisted tightly in the brown fabric of her robe.

[Maeggaladiel]

The horse's hooves beat a slow, steady rhythm on the earth as it plodded down the road. It was in no hurry, and neither was its rider. She sat relaxed in the saddle, whistling a tune in time to the horse's footsteps.

After a moment, the rhythm was broken as the woman's whistle turned from a nameless tune to a little trill of admiration. The horse slowed.

"The Green Dragon, aye?" she mused, reading the painted sign. She tapped her chin with a finger. "What say we stop for today, hmm?" Resuming her whistling, she led the horse to the stables.


Soon after, Hallien Winterwood strode into the Green Dragon Inn. She was, admittedly, a peculiar sight. A wide-brimmed hat of a color that must have been bright red at one time was perched on top of her head. There was a long white feather tucked into the band. Under the hat was a smiling face, somewhat obscured by a pair of small wire-rimmed glasses balancing on the bridge of her nose. The curled head of some sort of stringed musical instrument poked out of the bag hanging across her back and a dozen or so small leather pouches were hanging from her belt. A weather-worn book was tucked under one arm.

She was indeed a sight, from the top of her hat, to the long faded blue jacket, to the crimson skirt, right down to the end of her road-weary leather boots. If she knew this, she did not show it. Instead she adjusted her glasses, shifted the book, and walked up to the bar, humming to herself.

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=10581) which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

It's now very late in the afternoon. In a few hours the party in the Dragon's front yard will begin.

The day remains pleasant and sunny.

[Undómë]

The flowers were easily gathered. There were many little garden plots about the Green Dragon, all of which, Buttercup had kindly told her could be used for bouquets for the tables. In the Inn’s kitchen, she put the pretty blossoms together in colorful bunches and then into the vases she’d found in the basement.

‘Oh, the tables will look so nice!’ said Buttercup. ‘Here, let me help you take them out to the front yard.’ The Hobbit took an armful of tablecloths with her and soon the tables were all set up for the party.

‘Help me find the little lanterns, won’t you,’ asked Telu, following Buttercup back into the Inn.

The boxes of them were soon ferreted out of the cupboard beneath the stairs along with the candles to put in each lantern. The two women soon had them all ready to be used. ‘I’ll carry out the boxes,’ Telu offered. ‘Can you find us a step-stool so I can reach up into the branches of the trees and get them hung?’

Buttercup brought along the step-tool from the kitchen. With the Hobbit steadying it, Telu began to place the lanterns among the branches of the trees that lined the Inn’s front yard.

[Arry]

Best we get ourselves back to the Inn,’ said Gil, watching Halfred and his men go about the business of sussing out the culprit who’d stolen the goat carcass. He picked up his red cap from the ground and dusted it off against his breeches.

Tomlin and Ferrin ran back to where they’d dropped their instruments, saying they would meet the other two in the Dragon’s front yard. ‘We’ll leave them on the porch, near the little stage,’ Ferrin said as they turned to go. ‘Come in and tip a mug with us then. I’ll bet Cook will stand us each one round!’ he added. ‘Thirsty work, this guarding of the smokehouse,’ he laughed, winking at his companions.

Fallon and Gil took their time walking back to the Inn. An idea for a song was brewing in Gil’s head. He bounced the words off Fallon, who hummed a little tune he thought might accompany them.

[Valier]

After bringing more tables outside for the party that evening,Penn noticed the large horse tied to the post,thinking that this must be Naria's she smiled at the woman who was helping Farael move tables,and cautiously approached the Stallion with some dried berries she extracted from her pocket."Well hello you gorgeous animal you!"Penn exclaimed while the horse ate from her hand.Petting his mane,Penn looked around to see how the decorating was going,to see if she was still needed.

"I must remember to change my clothing before the party,I wonder if Naria has brought a change as well,I shall ask her if she would care to dress for the party with me so I can get to know her a little better and find out if she has any news from Rohan.For surely my Father is searching for me even now!

Saying her goodbye to the horse Penn approached Naria,asking the question of clothing for the party.Smiling at Farael Penn said "Sorry my good man but you know how us women can be, with clothing and all!I thought we could get ready together after we finish setting up.Would you be interested?Have you brought a gown?"Penn waited anxtiously for a reply.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Well, late doesn't matter.

Ariane wondered, though, where the time went when situations like these pressed in. She broke through her contemplation for a bit, grabbing a person off to the side and asking what was going on in her mildly accented voice, appeased after the answer and letting him go. Some sort of party, she hadn't caught exactly what it was for.

I always end up in places like these at the times of festivity, she thought wryly. It wasn't as if it mattered, anyway. A party might serve to get a few people abnormally drunk, make things a bit louder, whirl a bit of music about the stage and perhaps from the tabletops. It would be fun, she thouht, to join in sometime. It wasn't as if anyone was near enough to give her that painfully amused and all too patronizing look for being immature. Dancing had been fun... as a child.

But it was later afternoon. Ariane finally sat down with a bowl of some sort of beefy-like stew, an early supper for her. It was warm, at any rate, and smelt like some sort of domestic meat rather than the unknown outcroppings from some creatures that made you simply eat it with mental fingers crossed. The type of food you didn't want to ask what it contained.

It tasted tolerable. She wrinkled her nose. Perhaps a bit more salt... And innerly laughed. Who was she to speak—or even think. She thought she might be able to burn a salad if she tried.

[Folwren]

Tim was busy in stables. There had been another one or two horses brought in, and he had groomed, fed, and watered them. Afterwards, he made rounds about the other stalls, making sure that all of them had water and hay.

When that job was done, he went to look for Wren, to see what she was doing. She had come into the barn directly after him, some time ago, and he felt curious to see what she had been occupying her self with. He climbed the ladder to the loft and peaked over.

There sat his little sister, with a large, cat sitting in her lap. Her head was bent over him, and her little hands both restrained and stroked his damp fur.

"Where'd you get that thing?" Tim asked abruptly. Wren looked up for only a second and then looked back down at her new 'pet'.

"He was inn the kitchen. They were being awful to it, so they gave him to me, because they didn't want it."

"I dare say he'd caused some sort of havoc," Tim replied. Wren only shrugged and went on with her gentle caressing. Tim watched her only a moment longer and then went back down the ladder and towards the door.

Stepping out into the sunlight, he glanced around the Inn yard. Tables were being set up, and many sorts of people were helping do so. He thought hard for a minute, and then remembered clearly talk of a party that night. Then a clear light entered his face and he nodded to himself with a smile. The next moment, he noticed a very tall horse standing tied to a post just beside the road. The animal stood resting its left hind foot, and its eyes blinked calmly and sleepily in the warm afternoon sun. Tim's eyes lit up with admiration of the huge steed.

After only a moment, however, he remembered his job and he walked forward. He had to find the owner of the animal and ask if he should lead him to water and food. As he approached and came to where he could see on the other side of the horse, he saw a young lady stroking the stallions mane. He quickened his steps, but couldn't catch up to her before she'd turned away and gone to speak with another woman. Tim followed her and stopping beside her, he reached out tentitively and plucked her sleeve.

"If you please, ma'am, is that your horse?" he asked.

[Naria]

"Why no I haven't my own gown," Naria replied. For you see she was so excited when she left Rohan to find an apprentice that finding a party was not in her mind. She looked over at Penn and wondered if she had an extra dress that would fit. Naria was feeling a bit giddy at the thought of a party. She hadn't been to one since her departure from Rohan one year earlier. It had taken her more time than usual because her horse Flicker had fallen ill and needed some time to recover.

Taking her mind off of the goings on, Naria realized that Farael had not needed her assistance in awhile and wondered where he had gone. While she was scanning the crowd for him she couldn't help take notice of a small boy tugging on Penn's shirt. His attire looked to be of those from a stable boy(his clothing were similar to those worn by stable boys in Rohan). She bent around her horses neck and walked over to him. "Excuse me you must be the young lad that I'm needing." Naria knew that there was going to be quite a few people at the festivities and no one would want a big horse getting in the way. She took the horses guide rope then looked down at the boy and said "Could you please show me the way to the stables? For my horse is in need of food and water." Naria whispered settling swoons in Flicker's ear and waited for the stable boy to take them.

[Undómë]

Acting in concert, the Elf and the Hobbit soon had the little lanterns hung about the front yard. All had fresh new candles within, and they swayed prettily from the tree branches. The colored glass set into the sides of the lanterns caught the late afternoon sun and flashed spots of color here and there among the leaves. Telu watched them for a while, thinking how lovely the night would be when they were lit.

She glanced about the yard. The tables and chairs were all in place, it seemed. Across the distance she could see Men and Hobbits setting up the heavy trestles in which the ale for the party would be set. And if she were not mistaken, there was Farael. He and his companions had just tapped a keg and were ‘testing’ the contents within. There were smiles on their faces as they raised their mugs to each other.

Telu laughed as she walked back toward the doorway. ‘I hope he will be able to stand steady on his feet by this evening,’ she said to Buttercup as they mounted the steps to the porch. Buttercup looked to where the Elf pointed and raised her brows. ‘Better wear some thick boots, Telu,’ the Hobbit returned. ‘He might be stepping all over your feet with his.’ Buttercup looked down at her own bare feet and grinned. ‘Advantage there in not wearing shoes!’

The two passed into the common room. Buttercup had a few more duties in the kitchen before she could put on her party clothes. ‘Bring your dress and such to my room,’ she suggested to Telu. ‘that brother of yours sounds like he’s in a sour mood. Wouldn’t want to spoil yours for the fun tonight!’

With a light heart, Telu mounted the steps to her little room and began sorting through her dresses for the one she wanted to wear.

[Maeggaladiel]

Humming softly, Hallien pulled off the wide-brimmed red hat and combed a hand through her short brown hair. It was plastered against her skull, as she feared. Hat hair strikes once again, she thought to herself with a grim smile. Fluffing her tresses with her fingers, she placed the hat on the bar.

"Looks like there's some sort of fancy to-do going on outside, hmm?" she asked nobody in particular. "Well, I can't very well be caked with road dust inside and out, can I? Not with a party on the way! It's only proper I should get myself a drink to clear out the desert that's settled in my throat." She smiled and set her book on the bar near her hat. Grunting something to herself, she dug into one of the leather pouches hanging from her belt. A moment later, a handful of coins jingled musically in her palm.

She adjusted her glasses and squinted at the kegs behind the bar. Still smiling, she ordered "just a nip of some of that," pointing at one of the kegs.

"So," she began, asking anyone who happened to be nearby. "What's this party for, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"So..."

The voice cut through Ariane's mind. Not like a knife, because if it had cut through her mind like a knife, it would've left her ultimately dead as knives plus tissue never match particularly well together. So, simply, it cut through her mind. But it did cause the human to glance over her should at the newcomer, seeing nothing of real note beyond obvious hat hair adorning her head. At least, the signs of hat hair that had been hastily straightened out without any comb to completely do the job.

So she gave the stranger (not like the entire inn wasn't strange to her) a quick glance before shooting her stew a rueful stare. She didn't really want to stir from the meal. But she felt the automatic desire to reply to the quiry as it was. It was engrained in her mind from day one. Reply.

Don't stay silent when someone needs your help.

Only stay silent when you could hurt their feelings.

"What's this party for, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

Ariane sighed, and stuck her spoon in the dish. "Y'know, I've been wondering the same thing myself," she said with a hint of a grin, praying her early dinner wouldn't grow too cold if she got any reply. "Any special occasion going on around here, or something of the like?"

[Farael]

With the help of the ladies of Rohan and some very nice hobbits, Farael finished up setting out a good share of tables. Then chairs had to be carried for the tables. After that, some help was needed to rearrange some things that had been set-out as they had mistakenly left them on the wrong place. At last, chairs and tables were set properly.

It had not been easy work and it had taken a good portion of the afternoon, so it was only logical -at least for Farael- to have a quick taste of the good ales that would be served that night. As the saying goes, a good drink can't be taken alone and after a few toasts for the health of the High King, the people of The Shire and (many) other things, Farael and the hobbits were feeling quite cheerful yet they all decided they did not want to get drunk before the party started, so each went to their rooms to get some rest and get ready for the night's event.

[Celuien]

"Oof! My, but that's heavy!" Robin staggered out of the Inn, burdened with a stack of chairs. It seemed that a few of the tables in the yard still lacked proper seating arrangements. Atop the seats was a precariously balanced tray of flowers in glass vases. He carefully set the chairs on the ground, transferred the flowers to an empty spot on a nearby table, and scurried about, putting the chairs in their proper places. Then came the flowers, one vase to each of the small tables, two each of the larger ones. Work finished, he went back inside to rest.

Entering the Inn, Robin heard several queries about the upcoming festivities. What's this party for, if I may be so bold as to inquire? Any special occasion going on around here, or something of the like? He walked up to the two strangers and bowed. "Robin Sandheaver, at your service. We're celebrating the generosity of Fordogrim's gift of casks of ale in his mug-stacking contest." Robin was too modest to mention his own role in the challenge. "I hope you will be joining us." He smiled. Turning to the bespectacled member of the pair, he said, "That's a lovely hat."

[Maeggaladiel]

"Robin Sandheaver, at your service. We're celebrating the generosity of Fordogrim's gift of casks of ale in his mug-stacking contest. I hope you will be joining us."" Hallien smiled at the woman who had inquired about the party.

"Sounds like a grand affair indeed, hmm?" she asked, grinning. "Well, I for one don't intend to miss it."

He smiled. Turning to the bespectacled member of the pair, he said, "That's a lovely hat."

Hallien laughed, looking at the hat in question.

"Why thank you, Mr. Sandheaver," she said. She beamed down at the faded hat. "It's seen its share of years, as you can probably tell. It's of a fine vintage." She patted it.

"Seems like it's going to be some party," she said jovially, looking out at the many tables and chairs. "Is there a need for more volunteers? Setting up and the like? If so, I'd be glad to enlist myself." She picked up the hat and touched it to her head, only to sweep it off in a theatrical bow. "Hallien Winterwood, at your service."

[nynnd1]

Bredan walked to the start of the path that led to the door of the Green Dragon. A big smile came across his face and he felt something inside him, he felt that he was home. Although of course he wasn’t, he had left Gondor and decided to come to the Shire almost two years ago. But the road was not a simple one, his horse had been killed when he had been attacked and robbed, but it was all right know. Thanks to lady Aman and Master Meriadoc.

Bredan had enjoyed his time with the Brandybuck, being able to help repair the stable for him, it was the least the Gondorian man could do for the lending of a horse. Bredan continued to smile as he walked up the path to the Inn, cheery hobbits organising chairs outside.

“Good day.” Bredan said to all.

As he pushed the door Bredan remembered when he had first entered, a confused angry man, but he felt different. He couldn’t help thinking it was because he had found his assailants and taken his possessions back, along with other things they had collected. Bredan had to kill two of them or he would no longer be here, but he took one back to Brandybuck hall where he was sent to jail.

Bredan walked up to the bar and run his hands over it as if he was searching for memories, but he did not need to search, the memories were fresh in his mind.

“I acted like an idiot.” He muttered under his breath.

Bredan looked up to see if he could get served, the young hobbit maid serving looked apprehensive about serving but came up anyway.

“What can I get you sir?” asked Ruby, standing a little further away than usual.

“You can let me apologise for my rude behaviour last time I inhabited this inn,” said the Gondorian man. “I can promise that I have changed.”

“That is ok we had all wondered where you had gone.”

The Gondorian man felt the kindness sweep all over him and smiled.

“If you would be kind enough to get me a cup of tea I will tell you when you are less busy.”

“That would be great said the young Hobbit lass.” And she ran to get the tea.

[Folwren]

Tim stood for a moment in awkward silence and then he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

"Oh, no, ma'am, that's not really necessary," he said, "I can't take him if you wish. That's my job, see? If you want, I could put him into an empty stall, unsaddle him, brush him down and give him oats or hay and definitely water, if you like. . .you don't have to take him yourself."

He half extended his hand towards the reins, waiting for the woman to make up her mind. "Of course," he said, after another very, very slight pause, "I could, as you said, show you the way. . ."

[Dunwen]

Testing the top of the freshly-baked cake with her hand, Widow Rosebank found it wasn’t quite cool enough to frost. It was a lovely cake, dark brown and slightly shiny on top, and smelled richly of the molasses, ginger and other spices used to flavor it. She had been surprised and touched when Miz Bunce permitted her to bake a treat for this evening. It was a great honor when a hobbit let someone cook in her (or his) kitchen. Chasing that varminty cat around the kitchen must have formed a kind of kinship between them, for the Widow had spent the entire rest of the afternoon helping the staff out. She smiled a little at the idea of telling her daughters in Bree that she’d spent part of her journey to the Shire cooking at an inn.

She thought the cake would be well-received this evening. The recipe was very popular among Bree-folk Big and Little, who described her as “near as good a cook as a hobbit.” The frosting was in a cloth-covered bowl at her elbow, waiting to be spread over the molasses cake. The Widow was surprised to notice that she was alone in the kitchen, at least for a moment. Deciding that she had earned a bit of rest, she soberly poured herself a cup of tea and sat down, careful to face the windows and the back door. If that Orc came back, she didn't want to have her back turned.

She hadn’t minded the excitement with the cat, but when that lass Ginger had popped in and told them there was a Orc on the premises, she’d nearly dropped her mixing bowl in terror. The hobbits had simply called for the Shirriffs as if Orcs were an ordinary problem, but the Widow took little comfort from this. She knew painfully well how horrible the creatures were. Just before the King had returned to his throne in Gondor, a party of Orcs, Goblins and even some wicked Men had killed several Bree-landers, including her own husband. She’d found her poor Pennyroyal butchered in his own field. Shuddering at the grisly memory, Widow Rosebank wondered how the hobbits could just go ahead with an outdoor party. Her Pen had been one of several Bree-landers attacked before the villains had been finally routed in the Battle of Bree. Besides her husband, she’d lost life-long friends and neighbors in that black time, all cruelly killed.

“Well, Ebba, brooding won’t help anything or anybody,” she whispered to herself. She got up and drained her mug, then checked the cake again. It was finally cool enough to frost. She uncovered the bowl of creamy, slightly tangy frosting, dipped in a knife and began to cover the sides and top of the molasses cake. As she methodically frosted, she wondered if she would find the nerve to step out of doors and join the party later.

Just as she finished, Buttercup the kitchen maid came bustling in. “This is finished,” said the widow, indicating the cake. “Is there a place Miz Bunce would want me to put it?”

Buttercup cheerfully assured the widow that she would take care of the cake while the widow went upstairs to clean up and get ready for the party. Widow Rosebank, although still undecided, thought she could at least wash up after her afternoon’s work. Thanking Buttercup warmly, she left the kitchen and went up to her room.

[Naria]

"Of course you may take my horse too the stables," Naria said to the stable boy a little embarrassed. For you see she was used to doing everything on her own that it just came naturally to her to tend to her own steeds needs.

Meanwhile, Penn had stayed close by and desperately wanted to get the both of them dressed for the party. Naria followed her up to her room were Penn had already had some dresses put out on the bed. Since Naria's hair was so dark and had eyes to match, she of course chose a brilliant fuschia gown. Naria slipped the dress over her head and pulled the bustle down over her front. She looked at Penn and requested some help with the hooks that were in the back. After all of the hooks were latched together and the rest of the gown was straightened, Naria felt quite pretty as she twirled around for Penn. Naria looked around the room and found a thin leather strap and wound it around her hair pulling it away from her face. Since Naria felt that her transformation was complete she sat on the bed and wondered what dress Penn would choose.

Waiting for Penn to get dressed Naria found herself daydreaming about her travels and how exciting it would be too finally have someone to be with her to share her experiences. She also thought to herself, where and whom would want to take on an apprenticeship.

[Folwren]

Having taken the horse into the barn and stabled him, Tim gave him food and water and then went on to grooming him. He was done in time, and checking once more the manger full of hay, he left the stallion in peace. He was latching the stall door behind him when he heard someone enter the barn. He looked up and was surprised to see his sister, who he thought was still in the loft.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"I took that cat down the road a bit and set him off. Cook said that I needed to take him some way from here." Tim nodded and turned to go on to another job, but Wren trotted up to his side. "Did you know there's a party today? It's getting almost time!" She spoke excitedly, quite unaware of Tim's sour mood towards her. . .still. "And Ginger's found a dress for me and I'm about to go in and see if I can help with anything!"

"Yes, you do that," Tim said, anxious that she should leave before she took it in her head to explain the said dress. "But for goodness' sakes, don't get in anyone's way!" Wren scampered off with a very sure 'Oh, I won't!' and disapeared through the bright, sunlit doorway.

She ran across the inn yard and walked into the kitchen. The door was propped open, allowing the fresh breeze and air flow into the heated kitchen. Buttercup was the only one there, working at the counter with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hands working deftly over what appeared to be some sort of cookie dough. Wren approached her.

"Is there anything I can do to help, do you think?" she asked. Buttercup looked down, and her brown eyes twinkled. She pushed a stray strand of her brown hair back behind her ear with her floured hands.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably. Here's Ginger - ask her." She nodded towards the hobbit who'd just arrived through the door.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger and Wren lend a hand

‘Are you sure you don’t need any help with those cookies?’ Ginger watched as Buttercup floured the rolling pin and began to roll out the dough. She’d gotten Cook’s special star shaped cookie cutter down from the wall, and mixed up a bowl of sugar and cinnamon to sprinkle on the cookies as they baked.

‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Buttercup said. She stopped for a moment and pursed her lips. ‘Now that I think of it, there is one thing you can finish up.’ She pointed to the small basket of lemons the merchant from bree had left several days ago. ‘Cook wants to have some drinks for them that can’t or don’t want ale or hard cider and such. Ruby’s got pitchers of plain cider sitting in the cooler. Can you and Wren make the lemonade?’ She nodded her head toward the canister of sugar she’d set out on the table. ‘The sugar’s there. And in the pantry are some early strawberries to make it look pretty. Except for the cookies here, that’s about the last thing left.’

Ginger got out the lemon squeezer and bolted it to the edge of the table. She set Wren on a stool by the table, a cutting board in front of her and a small paring knife in her hand. ‘Just be careful and pluck off the leaves from the strawberries then slice them into nice thick pieces. Here, here’s a bowl to put them in. I’ll juice the lemons while you’re doing that . . .’

[Folwren]

Wren tucked her legs up under her and carefully sliced the strawberries. She cut around the leaves, taking out as little fruit as possible, as her own mother had shown her long before, and then did the slicing just as Ginger had asked, and placed each piece gently in the bowl.

“When does the party start, Ginger?” she asked after a long stretch of silence. “Is it going to be soon?” Ginger nodded in reply, but made no verbal answer as she put her strength into getting all the juice possible out of the lemon. Wren tilted her head sideways as she continued her work. “I think it’s going to be lots of fun, don’t you? Can Tim and I stay up late until it’s all over, do you think?”

She went on with her cutting, waiting in contented silence until Ginger had time to answer her. The hobbit finish squeezing that particular lemon and added it’s rind to the pile of others before pouring the juice into a pitcher. Wren looked up as she finished, hoping for a positive answer to her question.

[Thinlómien]

Brith's curiousness had won her tiredness, and after resting a while she had gone riding to explore the little village better. She had started to appreciate this little, careless and hard-working folk. They amazed her more every time she spoke with them. She had bought some food and eaten in a little park.

Now she returned to the inn. First she wanted to find a place for her horse, so she went to the stables to find someone who could care for her horse.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger’s arm was aching from all the lemons she’d squeezed. She was happy to stop and give some consideration to Wren’s question. ‘Hmmm . . .well, from what I saw outside in the front yard all the tables and benches are in place, the kegs are there, and that little place near the verandah where Gil and his friends play music is ready.’ She looked over to the big stove where the ovens held pans of roasted chicken and taters.

‘I think we should sugar up this lemon juice and stir in the strawberries, and get it poured into pitchers. Then let’s go get dressed. What do you say to that? Seems like the only thing really left to do is to bring out the food when it’s ready, and we can run in and help with that.’ She shivered in anticipation of seeing her Ferdy this evening and dancing with him.

Ginger washed up her hands and poured in the sugar for Wren to stir. It was Wren who stirred in the cut up strawberries, turning the lemonade a lovely pinkish color. They both got out the serving pitchers, and lining them up along the counter, they dipped big ladles into the lemonade and filled up the pitchers in no time.

‘Cmon!’ said Ginger, as they put the last of the pitchers in the cooler. Let’s go up to my room and get dressed . . .

[piosenniel]

***** Notice of time moving forward in the Inn *****

The party is just starting.

It's now early evening; the sun is low on the western horizon, giving a soft light as the party in the Inn's front yard begins.

All the decorations are now up, the tables all decked with flowers, and chairs are scattered about for those who want to sit and relax and drink the good ale Master Fordogrim has supplied. Several of the tables groan with food from the Inn's kitchens. Roast chicken with taters, baskets of rolls, pots of sweet cream butter. Cookies, cakes, lemonade, cider, wine . . . and all in enough abundance to satisfy the hungriest and thirstiest of Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, or Men.

There is a large area cleared in front of the little stage just off the verandah where Gil and his little band are setting up.

Down from their rooms and down the path from the roadway come the merry party-goers to eat and drink and talk and laugh and dance the moon down . . .

[Arry]

‘Look there,’ said Ferrin, rapping out a quick rhythm on his hand drum. ‘Isn’t that the girl that kissed Gil this morning and got him all a-bother?’

Fallon tucked his fiddle beneath his chin and tuned the strings as he looked across the yard to where the roadway met the path to the inn. ‘Yes, to be sure, and there’s the rest of her companions all come back now for the party.’ He smiled and winked at his brother. ‘And do you think she’ll be singing a song or two with us,’ he went on, nodding at Gil, who had glimpsed the woman, Rowan, and now stood watching her.

Tomlin likewise had picked up his fiddle and begun to get in tune with Fallon. His brow raised as he took in the seemingly entranced leader of their group. He was about to make a barbed remark of his own, when Gil stepped to the fore of their little stage by the verandah and began to tap his right foot in a quick, attention grabbing rhythm. His clear, tenor voice rang out across the noise of those just gathering for the party. Tomlin began to pick the tune out with his bow, but Fallon stayed his arm. ‘Nay, let him sing along. We’ll see if the wee bird is ensnared by one song . . . or will she make him work for her company.’

The three stepped back and leaned against the porch railing, amused to the man at their friend’s dilemma . . .

One morn in May the fields were gay (http://www.chivalry.com/cantaria/sounds/doon-the-moor.mp3)
Serene and pleasant was the weather
I spied a lass and a very bonny lass
She was scoopin dew in among the heather
Down the moor

In among the heather, o'er the moor
and through the heather
I spied a lass and a very bonny lass
She was scoopin dew in among the heather
Down the moor

Barefooted was she, she was comely dressed
and on her head neither cap nor feather
But the plaid hung neatly about her waist
As she tripped through the bloomin heather
Down the moor

In among the heather, o'er the moor
and through the heather
But a plaid hung neatly about her waist
As she tripped through the bloomin heather
Down the moor

I stepped up to this fair maid
Tell me your name what brings you hither
And she answered me down by the bonny Bann-side
And I'm herding all my ewes together
Down the moor

In among the heather, o'er the moor
and through the heather
And she answered me down by the bonny Bann-side
I'm herding all my ewes together
Down the moor

I courted her that lee-long day and
me heart was light as any feather
Until the beams of the red setting sun came
shining down in among the heather
Down the moor

In among the heather, o'er the moor
and through the heather
Until the beams of the red setting sun came
shining down in among the heather
Down the moor

She said young man, I must away
For my ewes are straying from each other
But I'm loath for to part from you as the bonnie
wee lamb is to part their mother
Down the moor

In among the heather, o'er the moor
and through the heather
But I'm as loath to part from you as the bonnie
wee lambs as to part their mother
Down the moor

So up she got and away she went and her
place and her name I cannot gather
But if I were king, I would make her a queen
The bonny lass I met among the heather
Down the moor

In among the heather, o'er the moor
and through the heather
But if I were king, I would make her queen
The bonny wee lass I met among the heather
Down the moor . . .

[Undómë]

‘Are you coming, Tindo?’ Telu knocked softly at her brother’s door. Her question, repeated once again was met with silence. ‘Stay angry, then,’ she said. And gave as a parting shot, ‘Stuffed shirt!!’ If I’m to be packed off to the Havens tomorrow, then I will at least enjoy myself tonight.

She started for the stairs at a quick pace, wanting to put as much physical distance as she could manage beween herself and Tindo. Why must he be so cautious, so conventional! Telu pause for a moment, catching her breath, giving her angry red cheeks time to recede to a fairer color.

Telu tucked a strand of long dark hair behind her ear and adjusted the slender silver fillet that sat high on her brow. It bore a small light green stone that sparkled merrily as the light caught it. She smoothed the skirt of her leaf green dress. Caught in the moment, she twirled, pleased how the skirt swirled easily with her movements and how the sheer material of her long sleeves fluttered as she moved.

The common room was nearly empty as she crossed it. A few old codgers sat huddled near the fire with their ales, but most of the patrons were heading out the door to the inn’s front yard. Telu joined the crowd and found herself in the midst of a number of Hobbits spilling out onto the lawn.

Everything looked so pretty! And there, to her left, a young man Hobbit was singing a lovely song.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Ah, well, it's not as if I really expected people to notice me anyway, Ariane thought, a wry expression at the thought that normally she had thought it was her abnormal height (at least, so it had seemed) that drew the lack of attention.

She was an attention-getter, a bit of a melodramatic reactor, to be truthful. But at the moment, she hardly cared, simply letting the preparations for the party sweep around her as if she were only some decoration in the inn, someone only a mere decoration flickering over the wall. The day had passed swiftly, and she had finally chosen to move, sitting down on a chair off against the wall, and staring thoughtfully at the tables covered in food.

To be honest, the Calthye woman didn't feel much like partying. She had never learned to dance, as strange as it seemed for a human to lack that knowledge. And if I try drinking, I'll fall over. Just watch... So she sat back to consider the present scene, and wonder, just wonder...

I miss you, Kyrie. All too much.

So Ariane let herself try fade away and just watched the others for a while, wondering what would happen, or whether she could step out of her little nitch and consider doing anything. The music was nice, at any rate. She thought they could've been a bit louder, but it wasn't as if there was any way to change that, the wooden walls swallowing the sound with a fair lack of proper accostics.

[Farael]

...In among the heather, o'er the moor
and through the heather
But if I were king, I would make her queen
The bonny wee lass I met among the heather
Down the moor . . .

Such a beautiful song and a really nice voice singing it were not quite helping Farael's feeling of lonelyness. While he had kept himself busy during most of the afteroon, he was now standing by himself, dressed in his best clothes. Far from the soldier garments he had worn during the day, the only clue about his Gondorian descent was a little brooch in the shape of a white tree. He had hoped Telu, his newly met elven friend, would appreciate the change, yet she was nowhere to be seen.

Although the wide open space was slowly filling up with all sorts of individuals, Farael towered over most of them, just because he was rather tall for a human and most people -yes, they might not be human but they are still people he reminded himself - were much shorter than him. As the song was winding down and many of the listeners clapped their hands, congratulating the singer, he saw her at last. Telu was all the way across the place, closer to the door while he was standing fairly close to where the band was now playing. He smiled at her, hoping she would look over to where he stood and waited. Farael was not sure his waiting was out of shyness, not wanting to force himself into Telu's company or fear of her older brother. Maybe it was a little of all.

[Valier]

After helping Naria get fitted into her gown, Penn chose a brilliant blue flowing gown for herself,with a matching ribbon for her hair. Smiling at Naria, Penn felt it was her turn to twirl. She giggled at how girly the two young women were being about their dressing up.

Penn tucked the worn bag she always kept at her side under the covers of her bed.Hopefully the two rascals inside would stay put for the evening.Looking toward Naria she appeared to be deep in thought. " Would you like to go? I hear the music starting." They shut the door behind them and proceeded towards the commonroom, then out the Inn's front door.

The front yard was beautifully decorated with lanterns and other fair things.Penn sighed at the simple beauty of the place she was standing in.

Penn looked around to see many new faces,and one she knew.Farael was standing alone with a look of longing on his face.At that moment Penn did not want to disturb him so she looked around for the two gentalmenly Dwarves she had met earlier. She could not pick them out of the crowd,as of yet so in turn she looked for the man with the striking blue eyes.He was no where to be seen either.Penn decided to get an ale and wait for her friends return.

[Maeggaladiel]

"Ah!" said Hallien as the music drifted inside the inn. "And so it begins!"

Finishing her drink, she hefted the stringed instrument across her back, tucked the book under her arm, secured her hat on her head, and strolled outside. It was a beautiful evening; the perfect weather for a party under the open skies. Humming, she pulled out a char and seated herself.

[nynnd1]

Bredan went out to join the party after sitting in the common room for a couple of hours, resting after his journey, Bredan had not been as relaxed for ages. As he sat there it was as if the Gondorian man was being called by the music of the party outside.

Bredan put his large bag in the backroom by the kind permission of the Hobbit lass and walked out of the door, there he was greeted by dozens of smiling faces all enjoying the party.

“My first party at the Green Dragon.” Bredan said as he looked around the party, he was mainly looking for Lady Aman, he had wanted to say thanks since he arrived back. Bredan noticed someone that looked familiar, he was a few inches higher than anyone else at the party and looked like he was alone. Bredan trawled through his memory to see if it was best to avoid this man but could not place him, the Gondorian concluded that he could not be that bad if he was not completely in the memories of Bredan.

Bredan collected two jugs of ale and walked over to the man,

“I wondered if you wanted to have a jug with me.” Bredan said, pushing forward one of the jugs and looking into the eyes of the other man, still seeing if he noticed him. It was then Bredan got a clue about where he may have recognised the man.

“Am I to guess that you are from the White City too?” Bredan said as he noticed the brooch of a white tree. “I am Bredan of Gondor, and pleased to meet you if you are Gondorian or not.”

Farael smiled at Bredan, and took the jug of ale.

[Kath]

Astilwen was a friendly soul, and had a natural instinct to go to those who looked unhappy or ill at ease. She had come wandering back into the Inn, after spending a few pleasant hours sitting amongst the flowers outside, to search for some food. She was on the way to find one of the girls she had seen serving here the night before, but was distracted by the sight of a woman sitting in the corner alone.

She had a funny half smile on her face, as if amused but saddened by something both at the same time. She was also staring at the large plates of food, but from this distance it was difficult to tell whether it was with longing or she was just staring off into the distance. Deciding to find out which it was, Astiwen set about weaving her way through the crowd of people. She planted herself in front of the woman, leaning forwards so her words could be heard above the music.

"I was just headed over to the buffet, would you like me to fetch you anything?"

[Farael]

Farael was still trying to catch a glimpse of Telu's eyes when he felt a mug of ale all but pressed against his hands. Smiling broadly to hide the fact that he had been really surprised he managed to listen to the man who was talking to him

... I am Bredan of Gondor, and pleased to meet you if you are Gondorian or not.

Farael smiled again, this time happy to find someone from his city "And I am Farael of Gondor, always pleased to meet another soul from the white city". The man looked familiar. Unsettlingly so as he was all but sure he had not seen Bredan before at the Inn.

Still, the mood outside was merry and Farael felt himself relax as he enjoyed the music (and another sip of his ale). "So tell me, Master Bredan, what is a fine man from Gondor doing so far from our city? For it was all but luck that lead me into this city and this Inn"

[Huan]

The Elf drew near Rowan, his eyes sparkling merrily. ‘And shall you answer him, dear Rowan,’ Emlin asked, pulling out his silver fife. He blew a few sweet notes, his brows arched at her expectantly.

‘Well, then,’ she answered, giving a considering look to where Gil stood on the little stage, where he had turned round to talk to his companions. They had just put fiddle to chin and were about to begin themselves, when she sang out from the edge of the space cleared for dancing. Her voice ran gaily along the words as Emlin piped the tune behind her . . .

There were three gypsies a come to my door,
And downstairs ran this lady, O!
One sang high and another sang low,
And the other sang bonny, bonny, Lindon, O!

Then she pulled off her silk finished gown
And put on hose of leather, O!
The ragged, ragged, rags about our door,
She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

It was late last night, when my lord came home,
Enquiring for his a-lady, O!
The servants said, on every hand,
She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

O saddle to me my milk-white steed,
Go and fetch me my pony, O!
That I may ride and seek my bride,
Who is gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

O he rode high and he rode low,
He rode through woods and copses too,
Until he came to an open field,
And there he espied his a-lady, O!

What makes you leave your house and land?
What makes you leave your money, O?
What makes you leave your new wedded lord?
To go with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for my house and my land?
What care I for my money, O?
What care I for my new wedded lord?
I'm off with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed,
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for a goose-feather bed?
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

'And are we to be the gypsies you've run off with?' asked Talan, laughing, her arm about the Hobbit's waist. 'Or do you mean to give challenge to that poor besotted boy?'

'Perhaps so,' said Rowan, her eyes glinting mischievously. 'I think he will not be caught so easily. And I know that I won't. So let us see how the evening will play out.' She turned away from the stage heading toward the casks of ale. 'Half pint, if you please,' she told the server.

[Undómë]

For a moment she thought she had caught his eye, but Farael turned away even as she raised a hand to wave to him. A man had engaged him in conversation. ‘Later, then,’ she told herself. ‘He is sure to have other interests than merely waiting for me.’

Her attention was engaged by the woman’s voice that rang out across from where she stood. The musicians on the stage had turned to listen to the song. And the one who had sung the first song seemed to listen to the Hobbit lass most intently.

There, behind the woman singer, stood an Elf in a motley of greens and browns. The colors reminded her of her former forest home as did the sweet piping she heard him playing. Telu worked her way around the edges of the crowd standing about the dance area and approached him.

‘Master Piper,’ she called, bowing slightly to him as he turned to her. ‘That was a lovely accompaniment. Where did you learn to play so sweetly?’

[Huan]

Emlin speaks with Teluyaviel

Emlin turned to face his questioner. The soft evening played about her as would a shadow – save shadows were dark and this one light. He bowed to her, a look of pleasure at her greeting on his face. ‘Emlin, at your service, m’lady,’ he said, tucking his fife into the waistband of his breeches. ‘And to be truthful, I have been playing so long, I cannot recall a time when I did not know how to do so.’

He smiled at her. ‘If I might, and if you will not presume me too bold – a bit of an old poem came to me, when first I turned and saw you.’

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

He took her hand without asking leave and twirled her about in front of him. Her dress swirled about her legs and her dark hair lifted as she moved through the light evening breeze. ‘Enchanting,’ he thought to himself.

And then again aloud as she stopped, facing him, ‘What brings someone so fair so far from . . . . the Greenwood, is it. Or do I mistake that certain lilt you have in speaking?’

----

(With respects to Lord Byron for the borrowing of his poem)

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"I was just headed over to the buffet, would you like me to fetch you anything?"

And Ariane snapped out of that melancholy mood that had seemed to swallow her for a moment, taking her away from the inner shadows and the corner she had somehow worked her mind into. It was as if something broke. She blinked hard, then looked up at the face hanging above her.

For a second she almost drifted back, but forced the music and the smells to pull her back to reality. "No, it's all right. I can get myself something. Besides, I don't know what they have." Ariane pulled herself from the chair, brushing her skirt back down and gazing around absently for a moment.

[nynnd1]

"So tell me, Master Bredan, what is a fine man from Gondor doing so far from our city? For it was all but luck that lead me into this city and this Inn"

Bredan looked at him, going straight to his eyes trying to measure if the fellow Gondorian may be told. It is all in the past for me and I have changed, Bredan thought.

“Than you do have the best of luck Farael, for I can not think of many better places for a Gondorian to end up by luck.”

Farael nodded in agreement, and the noise of laughter that came from him made up Bredans’ mind, he may be told.

“I left the great white city two years ago, heading here. I had fallen in love, or rather, I thought I had fallen in love with a lady of Gondor called Iolet, but she was already married, her husband found out and rather than risk confrontation I thought it would be better if I left, she of course did not come with me.”

Bredan than had a terrible thought that maybe he had come to find him, for most people that Bredan knew in Gondor knew how Bredan loved the shire and stories about Hobbits. Bredan looked down to see if Farael was carrying a weapon, he was not. Don’t be silly Bredan, you’re being paranoid.

Bredan carried on,

“I had of course been told many stories about the shire and had wanted to come here. On the way I was attacked by bandits, they killed my horse and robbed me of everything I had, I managed to escape with only my sword, I managed to find my way here to the Green Dragon. I then went and borrowed a horse from Meriadoc Brandybuck and found the bandits to get back my possessions, and I found a lot more besides. So I returned here just today.”

Bredan realised that he had changed the mood slightly with his quite long story, he also realised that his fellow Gondorian had drunk all of his ale whilst listening,

“What say you that we go and get some more ale and you can tell me about your good fortune to end up in Hobbiton?” Bredan said flashing a big smile at Farael.

[Farael]

What say you that we go and get some more ale and you can tell me about your good fortune to end up in Hobbiton?...

Farael chuckled, as he noticed his mug was empty. "No Sir, I'm afraid I will not get any more ale for the time being. I have had plenty and I would not want to force any of these hobbitses to pull me to my room if I drink too much. But I'll walk with you and get some of that lemonade. I've heard it's almost as good as the ale." They headed to one of the big tables on the side and helped themselves to more drinks. "I guess we have more in common than what I thought, Master Bredan, as I was coming here with some of my father's fellow merchants when I left them following a trail that I believed was made by orcs." His face hardened, his disgust for those creatures obvious. "The trail lead me no-where, but when I caught up with the rest of the merchants they had been assaulted. By men, not orcs. They went back to the white city, I went into the forests to find the bandits yet I had no luck. Nor I met anyone as important... what is Master Meriadoc like? I've heard he is a very smart ma... hobbit."

Farael looked up and saw Telu talking to another elf, he nodded although Bredan could not see what he was nodding at. "I have not a story about love to tell, but I am sorry you had to escape the white city for a woman..." He looked away, and added almost for himself "... most of them are not worth it"

[Noinkling]

Notch was puzzled by the quietness of the common room as he woke up. His little burrow by the fireplace was snug and warm and he almost shrugged off the lack of talking and feet scuffling along the floor and went back to sleep. But he was a curious mouse at heart.

He poked his little nose out sniffing for the smells of supper. Faint it was. Daring a further venture he eased out his head and looked about with his bright black eyes. Except for a few of the old fellows who were permanent fixtures at the Inn, the room was empty.

Eyes and ears alert; little feet scurrying along the wooden floor, Notch made for the door.

[Folwren]

Wren held the kitchen door open so that Ginger could come through, both her hands laden, one with a basket of rolls to replace the one that sat momentarily empty on the table, and another with a plate of cookies. She cast Wren a smile to thank her and the girl grinned back and skipped out before the hobbit to make sure that nothing was in her way when she arrived at the tables laden with food.

When she was relieved of her burden, Ginger turned to Wren, who still fluttered about her, and gave her leave to go and do what she would - the work, at present, was finished. Wren nodded and waved and set off in search of her brother.

She found him shortly and they stopped and surveyed one another. He had been given a clean shirt and he had had the wits to wash his face and comb his hair back from his forehead. As for Wren, Ginger had gone to considerable lengths doing the little girl up. The dress she wore fit her well, and was perfectly pressed, and they had brushed and combed her hair until it shone and then pulled back the top and sides. She didn’t have the tumbling curls that hobbits possessed, but there was a slight wave in her dark hair that couldn’t be called unattractive.

“You look very well, Tim,” Wren said coming up to him.

“Ah, I guess,” Tim replied. As most boys probably are, he wasn’t too enthusiastic about having to dress and look nice. “Where’ve you been all this time?”

“In the kitchen, helping getting everything ready to bring out here and serve. Isn’t it jolly? We’ll have so much fun tonight! Do you suppose Woody and Hanson will be here tonight?”

“Well, that’s his uncle, I think, playing up there,” Tim replied motioning towards Gil and the musicians. “He did say he was his uncle, right?” Wren shrugged, still craning her neck to look and see. Tim bent to her level and putting his hand on top of her head, turned it in the right direction. “And if he’s their uncle, then they might be here tonight, too!”

“Oh, yes, I see!” Wren said with an excited hop. “Come on, come on! Let’s go see if we can find them. P’raps he’ll know if they’re here.” She started off in the direction of the general audience. There were many people about, some dancing, some eating, some talking, and some doing two things at a time. Tim went after his sister and caught her arm.

“We’re not going to interrupt them,” he told her.

“Oh, no, I know. Not at all. But Woody and Hanson will be about somewhere.” And once again she headed off, threading her way easily through the people in search of the two hobbit children she and her brother had met the previous evening. . .

[Kath]

"No, it's all right. I can get myself something. Besides, I don't know what they have."

Not put off in the least by this response Astilwen quickly moved chairs out of the way for the woman and continued to chatter as she walked along beside her.

"Well from what I saw on the way over there's plenty to choose from. If you like your savouries there's roast chicken with mounds of taters and rolls alongside butter. And if your tastes run more to the sweet side you'll find more than enough there to satisfy. Course, I don't know how much will be left by now, you might have to fight someone for it!"

Smiling she took the woman's hand to lead her through a group of hungry hobbits that surrounded the tables. She felt a slight resistance at first and would have let go, but it faded as quickly as she felt it, and soon the two of them found themselves faced with heaps of food.

[Undómë]

Tindo

Tindo had not intended to go to the party. What he had wanted to do was to pack his and Telu’s belongings, see to the care of their horses, pay what they might owe to the Dragon, and be ready at first light to leave the Inn. To return westward, to the havens, where he and Telu would sail West. And no amount of pouting lip, glaring eye, or threatened tears would sway him.

He’d finished the packing and was about to go downstairs to find something for his evening meal, when the sound of music and laughter drifted up and through the window to his room. He twitched back the curtain giving a cursory glance to the festivities below. He had nearly turned away when his eye caught sight of his sister. In her green dress, she was like a new leaf caught in a sudden breeze - he saw another Elf hold her hand and twirl her about. And on the Elf’s face seemed a look of interest and delight at the figure of his sister.

He rubbed at his forehead, a sort of exasperated ache furrowing his brow. ‘Telu, what are you doing now?’

All thought of eating fled him as he trounced down the stairs and out the door to the party. His gaze was fixed on his sister as he wove his way toward her . . .

* * * * *

Telu

Telu’s cheeks were flushed pink, from the poem Emlin had said to her and from the pressure of his hand on hers as he twirled her about. She took a deep breath in an attempt to recollect herself and a step back from him. Her eyes caught sight of Farael, across the yard from her, and she smiled, hoping he had seen her there.

‘I’ve not introduced my self,’ she began, turning her attention back to Emlin and trying to sound as normal and unflustered as she might. ‘My name is Teluyaviel. And yes, I am from the Great Green Wood.’ Her eyes clouded for a moment. ‘But of late we, my brother and I, have come from the Havens. Taking one last journey . . . at my request.’

She heard her name called from somewhere behind her. Telu turned and smiled, thinking her brother had relented and would join her at the party. ‘Tindo!’ she called back to him. ‘Come meet a new friend – Emlin.’

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"Well...on the way over there's plenty... from. If you like your savouries there's roast chicken... taters and rolls alongside butter. And if your tastes... the sweet side...more than enough there to satisfy. Course, I don't know how much will be left by now, you...someone for it!"

Most of what the woman said passed Ariane by in the bustle of music, noice, and typical clamor filling the room with the sound of people, though she tried to sort out the idea of what had been said. I've never met someone as eager as her before, she thought.

Working her way through a group of hobbits, she found she clung slightly to her newfound companion's hand before they finally reached the table, loaded already with food ranging from meat, vegtables, and various sweets of many types, shapes, sizes, and smells. Or perhaps... yes. Eru, I never thought anyone could match Gaelyn. Ariane smiled reminicently for a moment before latching onto a plate and sticking relatively behind the other woman to get some chicken, potatoes, and something that looked slightly like chocolate.

She had always liked sweets, and decided there wasn't anyone around to care if she gained weight from overeating. "So," she said, raising her voice slightly as she sought a roll from the table. "What's your name, anyway?"

[nynnd1]

“It was best for me to leave the white city. There was nothing keeping me there, I have no family, and life here seems that it will be good.” Bredan stopped and put a potato in his mouth. “and it will be amazing if these potatoes are anything to go by!” Bredan said as he scooped up more potatoes to fill his bowl. Bredan also took some slices of chicken and more vegetables that smelt like nothing he had ever smelt before. He had not realised how hungry he was until he tried that potato.

“After the party I will show you what I collected from the bandits. You can see if there is anything from the merchants that you left.”

Bredan turned to look out at the party, Farael was already looking, and Bredan sensed that he was troubled by something.

“I told Master Meriadoc that I would go back one day to see him, you can come with me when I go if you want?” Bredan hoped that this news may take his new found friends mind off of what he was thinking about.

[Kath]

Astilwen had been pleased to note that the woman stayed with her at the table and even seemed to have cheered up a little. She knew she'd been pretty insistent at first but she just hated to see anyone upset, and rather than ask them about it and send them into further sadness, getting them up and about often seemed to do the trick.

Behind the general babble she heard a question directed at her, and stopped filling her plate for a moment to answer it.

"So, what's your name, anyway?"

"I'm Astilwen. Odd name for a hobbit I know but I'm used to it now! And you?"

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro walked through the shadows of the dimly-lit corridor. Sadness was etched on his face, but as yet no-one in the Inn knew why. He had met a hidden stranger by a back door of the building, and the man brought tidings which concerned Ciro deeply. He had decided to leave.

He walked to the front door and noticed a small group of folk arriving at the Inn for the party. Ciro halted in front of the door to the bar, which was open, as the group obstructed his exit. At this moment, Penn caught his eye and waved him over. She looked quite lonesome. All Ciro could do, though, was shake his head.

Penn trotted over and, pushing through the crowd at the door, asked Ciro what was wrong. "After all, there's going to be a lovely party, tonight."

Ciro looked at her carefully. "I have to go, miss" he said. "It's not safe for me to stay here. I'm sorry I couldn't speak longer with you. Do tell the Dwarves that it was a pleasure to speak with them, won't you? They'll understand."

"Don't leave!" cried Penn. But Ciro had made up his mind. His plans had gone awry. The Southern Man was in great peril and could in no way meet Ciro at the Green Dragon. The only people who would enquire about Ciro in this land now would be enemies.

He tipped his hat toward Penn, opened the front door, and strode off.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"I'm Astilwen. Odd name for a hobbit I know but I'm used to it now! And you?"


Ariane paused where she was examining various interesting looking sweets, the music drilling its way to loop in her head, over and over again as it carried on playing in the background, but also staying in her mind in one particular little point. "Ariane. Ariane Calthye." She shrugged. "I'm really not certain of where it came from, and a few have remarked to its tone."

She found the hobbit to be a most remarkable person, a bit like she might have ended up had she been about two feet shorter, and had a chance to grow up properly, in a much different manner. Were all short people stereotyped to be cheerful, Ariane wondered to herself? There had been a time when she had been a cheerful person who couldn't be matched for the melodrama, salient and proud of it.

Perhaps Elachi had changed her, then...

But she shook it aside. Her husband wasn't there (though some part of her mind wished he was, if only to see if he'd hit his head on the doorway), and she had someone to talk to. Someone who most certainly was not concerned about the issues in her reality. Someone who might actually hold a relatively sane conversation with her, and not care about her height, for that matter. She smiled to herself. That was a rareity.

[Kath]

"Ariane. Ariane Calthye. I'm really not certain of where it came from, and a few have remarked to its tone."

After she'd said this the woman seemed to wander off into thought for a few moments. Astilwen let her be as she finished piling her plate and, noting that her new companion seemed to have enough also, began to make her way out of the crowd.

"Well I think Ariane is a very pretty name whether it has a story behind it or not. And at least it fits you. You find people with the strangest names sometimes, often long and difficult ones that with the best will in the world you just can't remember!"

She spoke as she moved, causing Ariane to follow close behind her so she could catch the words above the noise. This had the added benefit of people moving for Astilwen, who was smaller than many hobbits, and often had trouble getting through crowds. The companionship of someone a little taller than most of those around was helpful indeed. Finally out of the mass of bodies she turned to Ariane.

"So, shall we find a table?"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"So, shall we find a table?"

Wading through the torrent of small bodies, and of course those who were far taller than Ariane herself, being as she was petite for a human being. Having followed tightly behind the hobbit (who seemed as if she were only a child in comparation to herself), she was able to catch the words over the clamor. "Certainly." She stood up on her tiptoes for a moment. "I think there's a free one over there, if you'd like."

She didn't wait for much of a reply, though, taking the inventive to menuver through the other sentients crowding the inn well enough, and placed her plate down on a fairly nearby and at the moment empty table. It wasn't that hard to get through, and she hoped that Astilwen was able to follow after without much difficulty. Ariane knew all too well what it was like to be the short one out. At least she's pronouncing my name correctly, she thought wryly, and sat down on the oaken chairs surrounding the wood table, gazing for a moment at the grain.

A strange urge drew her gaze upright for a moment and to the roof. There weren't tiles, but she hadn't expected there to be, anyway.

[Huan]

Emlin kept his face neutral as Teluyaviel’s brother approached. 'Tindo', she had called him. But Emlin knew that was not his full name, and from the look on the man’s face he dared not use it.

‘Greetings, good Sir,’ he said in as courteous a manner as he could. ‘Emlin, late of Lindon at your service.’ Though by rights, his own age should take preference in who showed the first respect to whom. ‘I have just met your charming sister. She tells me you are from Eryn Lasgalen.’ He smiled as winningly as he knew. ‘I had many acquaintances there in my younger days. Though now,’ he said with a regretful sigh, ‘most of them have sailed West.’

He shook off the melancholy the remembrance of friends gone had brought on and smiled again. ‘I understand that you and Teluyaviel are traveling one last time before you, too, sail from the Havens.’

[Farael]

Farael shook his head and chuckled "well, unless you can tell one person's gold from another's, I don't think I will be able to recognize much. I was carrying most of my things with me at the time and when I came back they had taken the gold and the few other valuable possesions we had. We were going to buy some of the pipe weed. I've heard they have very good weed for pipes in The Shire, and so had my father when he sent me along with other merchants to secure a deal. They decided to turn back, I decided to pull forward, hoping to find those bandits and give them what they deserve. I have spent two years in the army of Gondor, but I never saw combat and I felt restless and anxious. But now.... now I feel like I could stay at this Inn for a whole year and feel quite content." With a smile, Farael helped himself to some potatoes and after having a small taste, he took a big bite. "Eez 're egg-helent!!!!" he said, his mouth too full of potatoe.

Looking up to where he had last seen Telu, he also saw her brother and looked away, towards the lanter-lit trees and the star-lit sky. "Yes... life is good here, and full of more surprises than what one would expect. After all, war and victory are not the only ways a man can better himself"

[Arry]

‘She’s over there having a pint, boyo. Go join her.’ Tomlin nudged Gil with his violin bow, his chin going up to point at the cask where Rowan stood. ‘We can’t have our singer moping and stewing over some pretty little git now, can we.’

Fallon and Ferrin snickered in the background. Just out of sight of Gil, Ferrin put his hand inside his tunic and beat it against his chest, as if his heart were about to burst through the material. ‘We had a bet on remember . . .?’ asked Fallon. ‘That when the darling of all the lasses fell, he’d fall hard.’ He cocked his head toward Gil whose hands were on his hips, eyes fixed on the floor, as he listened to Tomlin speak with him.

‘Go on, Gil,’ Tomlin urged him again. ‘Tis true,’ chimed in Fallon, drawing near. ‘Go on now. Be like the rest of us poor sots in love. Make a fool of yourself with a pretty girl.’ He tapped Gil with his instrument. ‘We’ll play some jigs and reels and get people dancing. Go on, see to your little darlin’.’

[nynnd1]

“Indeed Farael, you speak wise words.”

Bredans mind went back to when he was a child in Gondor, and the shadow from the east had started rising, you did not have to speak to people to see the dread they had, Bredan had been sent with lots of other children to more safer location at the top of the city, before he left him, Fadeling, Bredans father had a long discussion, Bredan did not think it at the time, but he realised now that it was his father saying good bye.

Treat loss as you treat victory in life son, we learn by our defeats. Do not cry son, no matter how many people die in the coming battle always remember for what they died, they died to protect truth, love and all things that are good. They are important, son.

Bredan remembered the whole scene vividly, he remembered that his father reached to the back of his own neck and took of the chain that hung around his neck.

Your mother gave me this when we married, look after it for me Bredan, I will collect it later.

Bredan hugged his father,

I must now take you to where most children are hiding to keep safe,

Bredan remembered thinking how lonely he would be without his Father, he had never known his mother who died in childbirth. Fadeling his father took him to the very top of the city and walked him to edge, Bredan had clung tightly to his fathers’ hand, wary of the height. When the young Bredan looked up and saw the dark cloud above Mordor he hugged his father who kneeled down to talk to him softly.

Bredan, I want yo to look at the darkness, please.

Bredan cried and quivered, it was horrible, his father wiped tears away from Bredans’ face.

Now look the other way, look into the west.

Bredan saw fields of gold and mountains all lit up by the sun, it was beautiful.

That is what we are protecting Bredan, the beauty of Middle Earth.

They had one last embrace and kissed. Bredan was shown to an old lady that had lived next door to him and his father, she would look after him whilst his father was away.

Back at the party Bredan wiped away tears and looked at the mix of people from Middle Earth all enjoying the party together, taking a deep breath in he said, not exclusively to anyone but loud that close may here.

“That is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen.”

[Valier]

Penn watched as the mysterious man with blue eyes walked away.Turning back to the party,Penn decided it was no time to be sad.I think I need a bit more ale!(Though she probably didn't)Penn grabbed an ale from a man who was handing them out and strolled towards the stage.The music was nice,and it made Penn sway with the beat,Her blue gown swaying gently in the breeze.

She looked around still not able to see the Dwarves,but she was sure they would eventually show up.Penn was feeling a little shy with all the people around her dancing,she lived with Men her whole life,and Men very seldom danced.Penn downed the ale she carried, hoping it would loosen up her dancing legs.Penn was not one to care what people thought of her, so she held her dress up a little and moved her feet to the rhythum.

[Kath]

Astilwen followed Ariane to a nearby table, following in the taller woman's wake. They managed to find an empty one, probably thanks to the number of people dancing, and sat down. Digging into her food her attention was pretty occupied for a few moments as she savoured Cook's delicious creations. She did notice though that her companion didn't seem quite so keen on her food, in fact she wasn't even looking at it, she was staring at the ceiling. Astilwen looked up, but couldn't find anything worth such attention. Intrigued, she found she couldn't keep her curiosity to herself

"Wha' iwwit tat yuw wooring a'?"

Unfortunately she realised that she had a mouthful of food as she spoke, and clapped a hand over her mouth halfway through the sentence. This at least drew Ariane's eyes back down and her mouth curled in a small smile. Recovering her composure she swallowed and smiled.

"Sorry - I asked what it was you were looking at?"

[Maeggaladiel]

Hallien went to the table, her stomach growling loudly. She loaded a plate with potatoes and other delicious-looking fare, filled a mug, and returned to her seat.

After a few moments of eating, she opened the book she had been carrying. Her fingers traveled down the page, down rows and rows of wavering script. She flipped a few pages, searching.

"Mmph!" she said, swallowing a mouthful of hot potato. " 'Ere we are." She took a long drink and studied the text.

After a moment, she picked up the lute she had leaned against the table and began to tune it softly.

[Elu Ancalime]

At the sound of lute, almost as if it were a bleak heralding, a fatigued elf entered the Inn. He was of Noldor ancestery; he was tanned from his labors that no other knew of. He wore a leather jerkin, and travelling boots, with mud dried on the sides. He had long brown hair, and grey eyes to match. At a height of six feet, he towered above hobbits and many men alike. His name was not known to anyone in the Dragon, and nobody seemed to want to know it or his business. He had a small pack consisting of a waterskin, two small pots, and other overnight travelling gear. Although he boasted no weapon openly, he carried an elvish sword similar to those of the Last Alliance.

He walked up to a local, and asked him who to ask to he rent a room. He was directed to one of the Inn keepers at a counter, and payed him around thirty gold coins for a fortnight, and the keeper took the coins thankfully, and then he was surprised, then suspicous. Why would this visitor be so content with overpaying him? How does he has this wealth to throw around? Did he notice the party out front? Don't idle on it, he told himself. Dwarves seem to have hoards of gold, silver, and jools, or so the tales say. He's probably a a travelling salesman of sorts.

After leaving his gear in his room, the mysterious elf returned to the front lawn for his small dinner. A small honey cake, another cake of cram, and a goblet of miruvor with an addition of what seemed like river-water satisfied his hunger and thirst. With no more notice of whence he entered the Dragon, he retired to his bed, for a long rest he had not had in a long time.

[rutslegolas]

Aidwain Longleaf had been travelling for over a year after the depature of the Shadow in the East , he travelled everywhere except in this strange Land of the Hobbits ,in which he had at last arrived , he had never seen hobbits before but he wanted a place to stay , so he entered this Inn called the Green Dragon.

He had given his horse to the stableboy who looked on the 6 foot elf wearing silver vambraces and a green cloack with awe. Aidwain then stepped into Inn and was surprised to see some many people in the hall. Aidwain had never seen so many people of different races together in one place chatting away happily.

Aidwain was very hungry and weary from his travels so he had a meal of cram and bread with some soup and after driking some wine decided to chat with someone. He saw that there was a big party going on in the outer grounds and went outside.

Beside him there were some dwarves chatting happily, but Aidwain mostly kept away from dwarves , 'Weird creatures they are' he thought. But about two tables away from him he saw two elfs chatting merrily he decided to join them ....