The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter [Archive] - Page 3

Lalwendë

07-18-2004, 12:44 PM

A Late Arrival

Out of the darkness a black horse approached, pulling a rickety cart. The cart wheels were off balance and they caused it to lurch as it went. The horse was large and heavy, and he moved along stoically. There were many brasses on his harness, but it was no matter to him, he was used to heavy work, pulling wagons, tilling fields, bearing people, it was all the same. He plodded on faithfully.

Driving the cart was a small woman, almost asleep. Her eyelids were drooping with weariness and her body slumped in the seat. She had not stopped for several hours and was half dreaming about a cool pint and a soft bed. As the lights of the inn came into view she lifted her head and straightened up.

“Nutkin, an inn! Oh for an ale and a featherbed!” She jingled the reins to urge the horse to speed up a little. “Come boy, a little haste and we may get a lodging here yet, and maybe the finest bale of hay in all The Shire for you.” The horse nodded his huge head and he went a little faster.

Soon they had reached the inn and stopped at the side of the road. The woman drew up the reins, climbed down from the cart and stretched. She gave a wide yawn and smoothed down her clothes. She was a small woman, and dressed modestly. Her tunic was simple, made of leaf-green linen with a round neck into which she had tucked a white cotton scarf, forming a collar. The scarf was slightly food stained, as she was not the most delicate of diners. From the hips down her tunic was split into four, and hung almost to her feet. The splits made it practical, and the length, respectable. Underneath she wore dark green breeches, tucked into a pair of knee length brown leather boots, old and cracked from wear. Over this she wore a plain brown cloak, which she had pushed back from her shoulders as the woollen fabric was irritating to her. Around her hips was a leather belt with several pockets and pouches attached, stuffed with all manner of things she couldn’t be without, including some money, and the long black dagger she used in her work.

She kept her russet coloured hair in four long braids, tied up on top of her head using string, which she hoped would keep it in neatly place, but a few strands were escaping, as always. She frowned slightly as she pushed them back, a habit she had. Rummaging in the cart, she drew out a yellow rose, and pushed into the knot of braids on her head. This, she hoped, would give her a little femininity, yet without detracting too much from what she considered her respectable appearance. She did not think herself much of a beauty, but there were those in Bree, where she travelled from, who did admire her, especially on those rare times she allowed herself some fun and her pale blue eyes sparkled with laughter.

When she was a young girl, during the troubles with the Southerners who had assaulted Bree, she hadn’t had much chance to smile. And since then, there had been little time for it, as she had been too busy building back up the family business. She and her father lived in her mother’s old farmhouse by the Greenway, among the fields and orchards they had spent all these years tending since the ruin wrought on them by the troubles. They grew the flowers that were given as gifts, the plants to fill the window boxes and borders of the homes of Men and Hobbits alike, and the herbs which she and her family made into sauces and ointments, following the recipes in her mother’s old notebook. They had worked hard, and now her niece was old enough to work the little farm while she made for The Shire to drum up some new business.

She still carried her trusty garden hoe with her. Sharpened to a knife edge, she had once wielded it at a gang of ruffians who had attempted to carry her off, back in the dark days. She had swung it at one of them and cut his arm, making him run away, yelping in pain. She had slept with the hoe under her bed ever since, and it was in the cart with her now. The black dagger she paid no heed to as a weapon. That was just used for deadheading plants and cutting string.

Jinniver Cornthrift had come to The Shire to make a little money. Maybe some of the Shire folk, who loved their gardens so much, would want to buy some of the seeds and cuttings she carried in her cart, or they might be tempted by the jars of sauces, mint, apple or horseradish. She hoped to sell a few of these things, perhaps some of the Shire folk would want regular orders from her. Who knew, one day she might have a shop here, several shops. Then she could maybe buy the soft velvet cloak she had dreamed about last night.

Peering into the window, she noticed that the inn was very busy, lots of beautiful creatures, elves by the look of it, and handsome men, and carousing hobbits. She thought of the bunches of flowers in the cart and went back to get a few in a small bucket. Surely there would be someone who wanted to impress a lady in here? Well, they wouldn’t go far wrong with the fragrant flowers from Cornthrift Farm. As she turned back to the inn, she tutted to herself.

“Tch, Jinniver, all you need right now is some supper and a bed, get a hold of yourself”, said the voice of the carefree girl she could have been. “But how else are you going to be able to afford to buy a soft velvet cloak?” replied the hasty voice of her normal, sensible self. “Or a better wagon”.

Jinniver pushed open the door a little clumsily, and steeling herself, for she only felt truly comfortable when on her own in the fields, made for a table in the middle of the room. She thumped down heavily onto a stool, and biting her lip, looked up and around her with a false look of confidence.

Amanaduial the archer

07-18-2004, 01:02 PM

"From what I've seen, seems adventure is much less desirable than it is cracked up to be," Aman said matter-of-factly as she passed the table where Tom was sitting with two women, sweeping a few dirty tankards off the table and giving the table a quick wipe as she did so. Looking around at them, she gave the two women a smart smile. "Alright, ladies? Can I get you anything?"

The pair regarded her as if lost for words, and Aman took careful note of one especially - a young woman, maybe of about Aman's age, but so weary looking that she could be five times that, a sad and troubled expression on her face as she nibbled at her nails, avoiding Aman's eyes. The Innkeeper made a mental note to keep an eye of this beggarly wander - not for any reason stemming from prejudice, but because when one seemed so depressed, you could rarely be careful enough. Still, Tom had proved himself to be a cheering enough prescence as yet - Uien had come away beaming from ear to ear a few moments ago, and had laughed when Aman asked her why, shaking her head and saying that the little fellow had actually given her a hug. In a world of Big People tainted by their history, a history they were still trying to mend, and so many wrestling with private demons, such sweetness in anyone out of childhood made the Shire a pleasant, sweet surprise.

The door swung shut, a cold blast of night air rushing in with it and Aman looked up to see a newcomer. But although this woman, like most who came into the Green Dragon, was a stranger to Aman, the Rohirrim Innkeeper knew well enough straight away this woman's profession. Excusing herself from Tom and his two companions, she crossed the room to the young woman and smiled politely.

"Good evening, miss - come, have a seat." She ushered the unresisting young woman to a table by one of the windows, outside which night was falling fast, but did not offer to take her cloak. The woman, she guessed immediately from her appearance, was some sort of peddlar, and there were two main rules when it came to such people: firstly, don't try to take their cloaks - much was often stored inside them; secondly, always be polite. It was the same rule Aman applied to everyone, but merchants of any type were a special case - for when you're buying from someone, it is always best to get on their good side.

"Can I get you anything, Miss....?" She left the end of the inquiry open, in the hope the woman would fill it with her name, but didn't press.

Lalwendë

07-18-2004, 01:49 PM

Jinniver had been offered a comfortable seat straight away by a woman who appeared to be the innkeeper. “Can I get you anything, Miss…..?” she asked, smiling. Jinniver recognised the business like smile of the trader, but something in this woman’s eyes was a little more honest, as though she was used to welcoming strangers. As though she enjoyed meeting strangers. Jinniver relaxed a little. It was always difficult to enter an inn alone, no matter how hungry and tired she was.

“Miss Cornthrift. Jinniver. You may call me Jinniver”, she extended her arm to shake the hand of the innkeeper and gave a warm, broad smile. Jinniver did not notice the dirt in her fingernails, and the innkeeper pretended not to see it, out of politeness.

“Am I late for supper? If you would be so kind enough, I could eat just about anything. And an ale, perhaps?” Jinniver was particularly looking forward to the ale she had heard so much about. Was it done for a woman to order ale in The Shire? She didn’t want to upset anyone. “Oh, and would there be room in your stable for a hungry cart horse? He’s a very placid animal,” she asked, thinking of her most faithful companion, Nutkin. She did not ask about the bed for herself, for she thought she had already asked for far too much at once.

Almost forgetting herself, she sniffed at the bunches of flowers, as if to emphasise how lovely they were. She hoped that it had been subtle, and she did not appear like any common trader. It was a trick she used often in Bree, and it seemed to work. She looked at the innkeeper, smiling.

“And what might your name be?”

Amanaduial the archer

07-18-2004, 01:59 PM

Aman inclined her head, pretending not to notice the woman's barely subtle sniff of her flowers. Flowers, seeds and cuttings then were probably this woman's wares - my, suddenly everyone seems to feel the need to pay attention to the garden!

"My name is Aman - I am the Innkeeper here at the Green Dragon. You are...somewhat late for supper," she paused momentarily, casting a glance outside the window at the now dark skies, then looked back to Jinniver. "-but I can arrange something for you. And your horse will, of course, be stabled - I will go and mention it to Merimac now." She half turned, then paused, eyeing Jinniver herself. "And you, Miss Cornthrift - will you be staying the night?"

anunsew

07-18-2004, 09:30 PM

Anunsew

Please check your PM's.

Thanks!

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

Lalwendë

07-19-2004, 01:18 PM

Jinniver felt relieved and sighed lightly. Aman, as she now knew the innkeeper to be named, had asked her about whther she wouldlike to take a room for the night. The sensation of falling into a soft featherbed and sleep briefly passed through her mind, and she said that yes, she would like to stay at the inn.

“Aman, you have been most kind. I must give you a little something.” she said, reaching into the bucket of flowers. She pulled out a bunch of bright red poppies, allowing the drips of water to fall onto her own lap, to avoid making a mess of the table. Aman made to refuse the gift politely, but Jinniver spoke before she could say any more.

“I have had a difficult day. Another inn I passed along the way was not able to give me lodging. I fear I might have been a little too….rustic for them. So you must have these in token of thanks. They are grown from seed brought all the way from the Rohan,” she said, her smile fading a little as she remembered the man who had given her the seeds from which she now grew these delicate nodding flowers. “They are unlike ordinary poppies, they will brighten your parlour for some days, if you wish to place them there.”

She grew these flowers now not just for their beauty, but also to remember the life she had lived years before. It gave her joy to see them nodding in the grassy meadow she kept for their nursery, and others also loved to see them in full flower. Many of the Breelanders came asking for bunches of them. Once a handsome dark-haired elf on his travels had stopped to paint a picture of the poppy field. He had allowed her to stand by and watch as he worked. She did not know what was more wonderful, the poppies, the smooth hands of the elf or the painting he made.

As she was handing the flowers to Aman, Jinniver noticed that the stems of the poppies were a little straggly, and drew her dagger from the pouch on her belt, to trim them, so they would be perfect. She swiftly nicked the uneven inch or so from the bottom and then passed the flowers to Aman, who thanked her kindly for the gift.

Jinniver relaxed back into her seat, and removed her old brown cloak. Much as she disliked the cloak, she carefully folded it as it was the only one she had at the moment. She looked around at the interesting crowd of people. She saw finely dressed elves, a stern man, and a hooded figure sitting furtively in one corner. Two women sat with a hobbit. One of the women wore a cloak that seemed much worse than her own and she told herself sternly that she was very fortunate and shouldn’t dream so much of fine things.

She still felt as though people may be staring at her, wondering what could have brought a rustic like her into this inn, so she pushed her chin out a little more firmly and tried to look as though she belonged there. But if anyone had been looking at her, it might have been the dagger which she had carelessly left lying on the table that caught their eyes. Its handle was wrapped up in webbing - which Jinniver had wound around it as it was finely carved, and she did not want to spoil it - but the blade was made of an unusual shining black metal which glimmered like a dancing black spark in the firelight.

Amanaduial the archer

07-19-2004, 03:32 PM

Aman took the flowers tentatively, surprised and pleased at the token, and turned to go into her parlour, where she could leave them off before going out to see Merimac about Jinniver's horse. As she pushed open the door, the light reflected suddenly on them from some shiny surface in the room, and the poppies were caught, suddenly illuminated. Aman paused, letting the door close behind her, studying them carefully. Poppies weren't a particular favourite of hers, or hadn't been until now, but looking at these delicate, blood red specimens, like soft shaped rubies, she could suddenly see beauty in them, tiny and understated as they were. She remembered a pony back in Rohan, the pet of one of the daughters of Edoras 'high society', who went by the name of these flowers - a beautiful creature, with a coat as soft and velvety as the petals of these flowers, and tinted with a red tinge that shivered across it's body and legs when it walked or ran. She rubbed one of the petals between her thumb and forefinger gently, feeling the silky surface that so many flowers had, and found the way the petals were so short and rotund, yet so pretty, rather lovely as well. So much expression in something so small. Rather like the little pony Ruby as well, she smiled to herself.

Not having an actual vase handy, Aman rinsed out a cup sitting on her desk from last night at the sink at one side of her room, and placed the little bunch of flowers inside it. Putting it on her desk, she stepped back and admired them momentarily, a smile hovering on her lips before she turned with a content sigh and returned to the bustling Common Room, somehow much heartened even by such a small and unexpected gift. Crossing the room, she opened the front door and stepped outside into the cool air of the night. Shivering at the sudden change in temperature from the warm room, she folded her arms around her and shrugged against the air, turning towards the stables. As she entered the courtyard, she saw a dark, bulky silhouette move by one of the walls and paused. It moved again, and she heard a quiet snort as the horse tossed it's head, shifting one foot and shaking itself. By it's size, Aman guessed that that would be Jinniver's carthorse.

One of the tall, wide doors of the stables hung open a crack, letting soft lantern light from inside creep out in a defiant ray across the cobblestones of the courtyard along with the soft sounds and comforting smell of satisfied horses. Pushing it open a little further, Aman edged in and looked around for the hobbit stable lad. "Merimac? Merimac, are you there?"

starkat

07-19-2004, 03:36 PM

After meeting with her brother, the young elf maid decided to return to the Green Dragon. She knew she wouldn't be able to stay long. Gwenneth rode into the stable yard at the inn and dismounted. Reaching the stables, she heard a voice calling out “Merimac? Merimac, are you there?”

Gwenneth dismounted and entered the stable. Seeing that it was the innkeeper who had spoken, the elf maid went up to her after tying Elenath up. “I was here earlier and was wondering if you had a room I could rent for the night.”

Envinyatar

07-19-2004, 03:45 PM

Merrimac made no immediate answer. But there was a rustling from inside the stable, coming from the end where the stablemaster’s quarters were. A familiar voice called out along the row of horses and ponies.

‘Is that you, Aman?’

Derufin walked down the earthen track between the rows of stalls, a small lantern in his hand. ‘Haven’t seen Merrimac this evening,’ he said, hanging the soft glowing light from a hook on one of the posts. ‘Is there something I might do for you? I think I can still find my way about the stable if there’s something you’re needing.’ He grinned at her, as she looked behind him to see if Imzi might also be there.

‘She’s getting settled in the Inn for the night. Under the watchful eye of Cook.’ He nodded back over his shoulder toward his old quarters. ‘I’m just displacing a small family of field mice from my mattress at the moment. Thought I’d see to getting the room habitable at least for the night.’

Derufin looked expectantly at her. ‘What can I help you with?’ he asked again.

His gaze was drawn, then, just beyond Aman's shoulder as someone approached and spoke to her.

Amanaduial the archer

07-19-2004, 03:57 PM

"He arrives later sometimes - honestly, you just can't get the staff nowadays!" Aman rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then smiled back at Derufin, cocking her head to one side. "Still determined to stay the night in the stables, hmm, Derufin?" She grinned and opened her mouth to continue before the clatter of hooves alerted her.

Hearing another horse arrive outside, she turned around and slipped out of the stables through the crack between the doors in time to see a rider dismount. Aman couldn't see her face immediately, but as she tossed her head, the Innkeeper noted the pointed ears and oddly ageless face - and strangely familiar that face was as well.

"I was here earlier and was wondering if you had a room I could rent for the night." The elf got straight to business and Aman snapped her fingers in recognition.

"Ah! 'Thought I knew your face - sorry, miss, your name evades me though. As for a room - I shall see what we can sort out. I presume you would like a stable for your horse as well?" The rush of questions and statements allowed the elf little time to reply and she simply nodded at first. The Innkeeper flashed her a smile and held up a finger as she saw a small, familiar figure arrive from the shadows of the courtyard. "Please - give me one moment please, miss." Turning to the new figure she put her hands on her hips as she walked hastily over to him. "Merimac!" She addressed the newly arrived figure this time, not the elf.

A handsome hobbit face topped with a mop of dark curly hair grinned up at her from chest height "Ah, Miz Aman - just as well, too: and here was me thinking I was hearing voices from around that corner..although very lovely voices, of course." The hobbit stable hand gave a cheeky wink and clicked his tongue.

Aman grinned back at him, rolling her eyes. "Just as well for me as well - here was I, thinking I had dreamed that I ever had found a new stable hand, bearing in mind this one had mysteriously vanished..." She stuck her tongue out at Merimac and he returned the gesture, thumbing his nose for good measure. The Innkeeper laughed and inclined her head behind her to the elf and her horse. "There are two horses out here, one with a new customer and the other tied up one of the rings on the left wall - got free stalls?"

"Aye, of course - although we are filling up rather fast tonight. At this rate I'll be bunking the fine steeds of Gondor, Rohan, Lorien and all the fine lands in the rafters by midnight..." Merimac grumbled light heartedly, stepping forward and wiping his hands on a ragged cloth produced from his pocket as he smiled at the elf and her horse, the former looking up from the latter as the Innkeeper returned. Merimac briefly shook hands with the elf and bade her good evening, and took hold of her horse's reigns, reaching up to rest a hand upon it's nose to let it get used to his smell. Nodding politely to both Aman and the elf, he disappeared back into the stable building, the horse dwarfing him but still following obediently. Aman poked her head back into the stable building and smiled apologetically at Derufin. Give me a few minutes, Derufin? she mouthed. The man nodded, smiling faintly, and ushered her back outside.

Turning once more, the Innkeeper smiled brightly at the new elf. "Right - a room you say? If you would follow me then..."

starkat

07-19-2004, 04:28 PM

“Hennaid. I greatly appreciate this. My name is Gwenneth.” As she prepared to follow the innkeeper out of the stables, Gwenneth looked back at her horse with a smile. The elf maid turned quickly when she heard the sound of the stable door opening and followed Aman into the inn.

Aman gave Gwenneth a room key and then left to talk with a patron. Alone, the elf maid looked for a seat and spotted an empty table. She walked over and removed her cloak. As she removed her cloak a richly coloured dress was revealed. It was deep blue with silver trim. Gwenneth sat down and asked for a glass of water.

nynnd1

07-20-2004, 04:25 AM

Bredan was looking around the Inn, he was not looking for anything in particular, or anyone, but then there was no body looking for him, or was there. Bredan knew that there was always a chance of somebody coming from Gondor to try and look for him, Iolet’s husband looking for revenge on Bredan, they all knew of his fascination of Hobbit’s and the Shire. Bredan could feel the expression on his face, a worried look, not so much for fear of the danger to himself, he did not want any danger to come to the Land he was in, he would be ashamed if his blood was spilt on the Shire and stained the grass. Bredan then thought what would happen if Iolet herself would come and live with Bredan, but there was next to no chance of that, Bredan had always known in his heart that she would not live her husband. Bredan took the ring and looked at it for a while, although he knew that him and Iolet were finished for good, the ring always gave him memory of his happiest times, though his days in the Shire looked promising, if he could get back the stuff that the wildmen had stole.

Bredan then saw Lady Aman walk in, being followed by an Elf maid, Bredan finished his drink as the maid was bought over a glass of water, he ordered a tea and walked over to her table where she was sitting alone, looking round the Inn, just had Bredan had done before.

“You are only drinking water Lady Elf, may I recommend the Tea, it is the best I have had in all of Middle Earth.” Bredan extended a hand and gave a smile.

“Bredan of Gondor.” Bredan gave a small bow, he did not know why, there was something about the Maid that gave Bredan the feeling that she was of noble status, perhaps it was her elfish sparkling eyes that seemed to pierce right through to your soul or her beautiful dress of deep blue and silver trim.

starkat

07-20-2004, 07:34 AM

With a soft smile, Gwenneth looked up at man from Gondor. She shook his hand and gestured for him to take a seat. “I usually don’t drink much besides water. Since you recommend it so highly, I will give it a try.” The next time the server walked past, Gwenneth ordered a glass of tea.

She swept some loose strands of black hair behind her ears. “Forgive me for not introducing my self. My name is Gwenneth.” The elf woman fiddled with a small, blue, jewel hung on a gold chain around her neck. “Tell me about Gondor, please. I have not been there yet.”

Brendan was momentarily delayed as Gwenneth’s tea was delivered. She took a sip of the tea and smiled. “This is good tea. Thank you for your recommendation. I am sorry about the interruption, please go on.”

Umwë

07-20-2004, 02:29 PM

Tom hummed and looked down in the wooden table. Anja acted very nervous to him and Tom didn’t know what to say, instead he ordered another ale and looked down in the wooden table. As Anja didn’t come up with any clear answer where she came from made him quite perplex, he actually didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat to comment the ale, but he decided to not do that. He started to feel tired and he layed back in his chair. His curly, long fringe tickled him in his eyes and he frequently rubbed his eyes or tried to puff it away. He gasped, but remembered that he had company now and forgot to put an hand to cover his mouth. He found that quite embarrassing and blushed. Anja looked up and smiled but then looked down at her hands again. Tom noticed she barely had any nails left and the she actually bled on one of her fingers, caused of all her picking.

He stretched out his arms and gasped again. He finished of his ale and thought That’s it for tonight, and rose up and took his mantle that he had put on his back of his chair. He bowed deeply to the two ladies and said with a soft voice; “Thank you for tonight, but it’s getting late, and I’d better find myself a room for the night, I don’t think my legs will carry me the way home, I am too tired.” He bowed again and pulled his mantle around him and walked to over to Aman that stood by the counter talking to an elf. He waited for his turn and fell into his thoughts. His gaze was fixed on Aman as he stood thinking of what he should do tomorrow, he actually didn’t have any plans. But he didn’t care very much, he just enjoyed days when didn’t have to think of important things he had to do. He began to smile as he thought about it. Then he came back to reality and noticed that he stared at Aman. He blushed and looked down and awaited his turn.

piosenniel

07-20-2004, 03:05 PM

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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

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 the Shire:

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 crafting your Elven character’s appearance.

piosenniel

07-20-2004, 03:05 PM

It is night time in the Shire. The weather is fair; the stars are out

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

Time has moved forward:

It is now a new day, early morning in the Shire.

Lalwendë

07-20-2004, 03:52 PM

As soon as her supper was placed in front of her, Jinniver fell upon it greedily. She crammed a few chunks of the warm bread into her mouth and took a mouthful of the ale, spilling it onto her white scarf. She looked down at the new stain, annoyed with herself, and gulped down the food she had stuffed into her mouth so quickly. She coughed, straightened up, and began to approach her meal more delicately, remembering she was in company.

The ale was delicious, fruity with a strong scent of hops, and as good, if not better, than any she had ever tasted. She finished the drink before the meal, and looked over at the bar, wondering if she dared go up and buy another ale. She felt sure her father would not have approved; he had said so often that she ought not to go to The Prancing Pony in Bree alone, that she had convinced herself that he did not approve of her going into any inn alone.

The smell of the ale all around her was strong and yet again, that nagging little voice inside her, made more insistent by the addition of the beer, was goading her on. “It’s alright. Nobody knows you here. And besides, if those fine people can go and buy a drink then so can you”. She was worrying about leaving her table unattended, and now she had also convinced herself that the bar may close and she would be refused another drink, and then she would look stupid into the bargain. Laying down her fork for the moment, she stood up suddenly and in a rushing movement, went to the bar. She turned her head anxiously to check that the table was as it had been a few seconds before, and she almost stumbled into a weary looking hobbit who was waiting at the bar, and she felt her cheeks flush. “Oh, I am dreadfully sorry, sir” she said, then realising he might think she was drunk she turned to the bar herself, puffed her cheeks out and made a point of standing soberly, as upright and stiff as possible.

littlemanpoet

07-21-2004, 02:52 PM

Falco Boffin had stood by his word, or run around, would be fairer to say, for a crowd gathered near the hearth fire to hear the tale Eodwine had promised to relate. The Rohirric king's messenger's cup had been refilled, and the crowd quieted. Eodwine began.

"The Mouth of Sauron was not destroyed at the end of the War of the Ring. He was wounded and weakened, but he survived. He fled Mordor and traveling north, passed Rhun to the east, the Iron Hills to the north and east, and the Grey Mountains to the north. He snuck past Carn Dum and settled among the northernmost of the Hills of Evendim. There he built his keep, and gathered hirelings, and spread his influence and power, such as it was.

"He spread his influence as far as the ruins of Annuminas on Lake Evendim, and Fornost to the east, and toward the Misty Mountains, the Ice Bay, and Ered Luin to east, north, and west. When the builders and masons came north from Gondor to rebuild King Elessar's home in the north, they were captured and imprisoned, serving as slaves to keep the Master's fields tilled and beasts fed. The Master he styled himself, but he kept another name closer to hand in his fortress. And if his slaves became useless or tried to escape, they were sent to the Master where a fate worse than death awaited them."

Eodwine took three swigs from his ale mug and glanced from face to face among the crowd, his own face dark with memories he was about to relate.

"I was the last of those captured, and my fate would have been the worst, for I tried to escape and failed, too weak to get far from my captors.

"And what fate could possibly be worse than death, you ask? I shall tell it this way. The Mouth of Sauron was no Ring wraith, but he had his life from the sorceries of the Dark Lord, for he was thousands of years old. When Sauron passed from Middle Earth, the Mouth of Sauron weakened almost unto death, but at last discovered a means by which he could survive, for lives of men. He drank the blood of living men. He built himself a black temple after the manner of the one his Master had erected on Numenor during the Second Age.

"In this temple he called himself Herugor, Lord of Horror. On a black altar he laid down his victims. He cut them at both wrists and ankles with a knife poisoned with a curse as well as potions to keep wounds bleeding open. The blood would flow and gather in a moat around the altar. Herugor collected the blood in a chalice, and drank the full cup down once each night. With spells, this drink gave him life for another day.

"The curse in Herugor's knife tied the ghosts of his victims to that temple. Herugor had enslaved a fallen Maiar, whose power was unguessed; but this evil Maiar fed upon the ghosts of the slain. This was the fate worse than death.

"And I was spared, for on the night I lay on the altar, Herugor's knife at the ready, Falco Boffin and Falowik Stonewort and Finëwen and others came to my rescue. Through Falco's cunning and stealth, and my desperation, and through the courage of these others, Herugor was wounded by his own knife and was himself devoured by the evil Maiar. Maybe that being dwells there still, we know not, for we did not stay. Dark is my tale, but it has a good ending, for Herugor, who was known as the Mouth of Sauron, has passed, as did his Master before him. Drink your ale cups with a good heart, for the Kings of the Fourth Age rule now, and another evil has been smitten to the core."

"Hear hear!" members of the crowd yelled, and raising their cups, drank a toast to the age of the Kings.

piosenniel

07-21-2004, 05:25 PM

Drink your ale cups with a good heart, for the Kings of the Fourth Age rule now, and another evil has been smitten to the core."

"Hear hear!" members of the crowd yelled, and raising their cups, drank a toast to the age of the Kings.

Zimziran shivered in the shadow of the steps. She had come half-way down from her room at the top when she heard the man called Eodwine telling of his rescue from horrors unimaginable. And if his tale be true then to the north evil still lurked. Too close for her comfort. The fire’s soft shadows that danced round the room below her became darkened and sharp as small blades jabbing into the light. She closed her eyes and hugged her knees tight to her chest.

‘There were other Kings,’ she murmured, rocking herself gently to and fro, ‘now lost beneath the western sea.’ Images of tales her mother had told of men’s folly and greed returned to her. ‘Great Kings of men . . . and they were no proof against shadow when it had gathered its strength.’

Buttercup had come softly down the stairs and now crouched beside the huddled figure. Her hand reached out to the woman’s arm, drawing her attention outward from the dark reverie. ‘You look half scared to death, Zimzi! What’s got you all at sixes and sevens with yourself?’ The Hobbit peered down through the posts lining the edge of the steps; she had heard nothing of the story by the fire, but gathered that something had been said to frighten the poor woman. Taking Zimzi’s cold hand in hers she gave it a pat and called to one of the serving lads who passed by the bottom landing.

‘Matty, you run and fetch Mister Derufin . . . and be quick about it. Tell him his Zimzi has need of him.’

She leaned close to Zimzi, saying she would just sit here with her ‘til her Mister arrived. Then, standing up, she peered over the stair railing toward the fireplace and called in a loud voice to the crowd swigging their ales below.

‘Enough dark tales for a dark night, you lot! Has anyone a cheerful song to share with us now?’

Amanaduial the archer

07-22-2004, 05:20 AM

"What about you, Buttercup? Let's have a song from you!" Aman called out over the sound of the ground, grinning at the hobbit. Buttercup whirled around to glare at the Innkeeper where she leant on the bar, but Aman simply winked at her. "Ah, g'on, Buttercup!"

The crowd soon picked it up. "She sings?"
"Aye, she sings. A fair sweet voice, Miss Buttercup Brownlock..."
"Let's hear a pretty song from a pretty hobbit lass - go on, Buttercup!"

The hobbit server cast a despairing look at Aman and her eyes flicked downwards as she inclined her head minutely towards the step below her. Aman frowned slightly in askance, and in reply Buttercup mouthed a single word. Zimzi.

Aman raised her eyebrows and turned to the crowd, straightening and holding up her hands as she came around to the other side of the bar until they fell quiet, the ready crowd ready for some event. "Hey, hey, all of you - 'fraid Miss Buttercup won't be singing then..."

There was a great 'awww!' from the crowd and laughter, along with occasional whoops of encouragement. Aman paused, catching the eager eye of her victim, then continued, and held the crowd in her steady grasp for a moment longer, a ringmaster of the highest degree. "...but don't forget, she isn't the only one in the Green Dragon who can beat out a fine tune."

"What, you'll be singing for us, Mistress Aman?"
"Well, that's one thing Pio never graced us with!" More laughter followed and Aman grinned and laughed with them, shaking her head.

"Not me! Why, have all of ye forgotten one of the fairest voices to this side of the Shire? For shame, all of y'!" Turning, she gave Ruby a boost onto one of the tables. "Ladies and gents, I present to you, Miss Ruby Brown!"

The clapping and sprinkled whoops from the crowd doubled and someone with a fiddle was jostled forward. After hasty whispered conversation with the fiddler, Ruby nodded, satisfied, and began to clap out a beat for the crowd, and Aman noticed the number of eyes she was deliberately catching in the crowd and the shameful amount of winks she was sprinkling over them - Cook would have her guts for garters if she could see! As the fiddler, a round face, basful looking hobbit tween took up his place next to Ruby and, readying the rather battered and patched darkwood violin, he began to play tentatively the first few bars of the song, the crowd sounded their approval again. The fiddler paused, then started up again with more conviction.

With all eyes on the musicians in the centre of the room now, Aman was safely out of the spotlight and she took a curved route around the side of the room to the stairs where Buttercup had sat down beside Zimzi, her little face creased anxiously. Aman folded her skirts up and took a seat on a few steps below, looking up at Zimzi as she reached out a hand towards the woman's where it lay limply in her lap. "Now, what's the matter, darlin'?" The woman's glazed, sad expression worried Aman and she rubbed the other's hand gently. "Zimzi?"

"Miz Aman?"

Aman turned at the voice to see Tom Cotton standing behind her unsurely. When he noticed properly that she was not alone, and took in Buttercup's worried expression, he flushed. "Oh...oh, s-sorry, I'll...I didn't realise you were busy, I was just wondering about...sorry, I'll go-"

"No, Mr Cotton, it's ok. One moment, please." She turned back to Zimzi and looked concerned into the woman's eyes again, then glanced at Buttercup and nodded approvingly. Standing, she straightened her skirts and came down to Tom, beckoning him over to the bar.

"You'll be wanting a room for the night, Mr Cotton? Aye, well, I think I may have something else to offer you..." Ducking behind the bar, Aman turned and straightened up, looking Tom up and down again as she withdrew the logbook from underneath the bar. Laying the thick, leather bound ledger carefully on the bar, she she leant forward onto the bar to be more at his level. "Tom, you said you had been looking for work as a gardner recently, and Uien was impressed with your knowledge - and she is someone who knows. And, well, we haven't had a steady gardener for some months now, although there is much that can be done with the Inn garden, so I was wondering - what would you say to becoming gardener at the Green Dragon Inn?"

Umwë

07-22-2004, 05:51 AM

“What would you say to becoming gardener at the Green Dragon Inn?" Tom didn’t know what to say, he was both surprised and happy. Aman stood leaning over the counter looking down at him and smiling. He looked up at her and smiled. He stuttered “W-well, that w-would be an honor to b-be a gardener, f-for this Inn, m-miz Aman... t-thank you!” He blushed and looked down in the floor. This was maybe the best thing ever happened to Tom so he sat down on a stool standing close to him.

“I c-can start a-at any time, miss, I mean...” He paused and looked up, his hair tickled in his eyes again and puffed shook his head a little. Tom thought of his old father that once was a gardener, and Tom couldn’t wait to tell him. His hands were shaking and he felt a tear rolling down his cheek, he quickly removed it, he didn’t want Aman to see it. He snuffled and picked up his handkerchief, but noticed it was red of blood. He put it back in his pocket and snuffled again.

“Thank y-you, miz Aman. This means a lot to me... Aye..” He said and bowed deeply and almost hit is head in the counter. “I will not disappoint you!” He looked up and smiled to Aman and then bowed quickly again. This time he didn’t watch out and he hhit his head in the counter. “Ouch!” he exclaimed and took two steps backwards and rubbed his head. He giggled and walked to the counter again.

He took a look around himself and saw that many now were returning to their rooms, as it was getting very late now. And the common room was almost empty. He waved over to Anja and Ana that still sat in the corner together. They waved back, but Anja still looked concerned. Tom couldn't stop wondering what was wrong. He tried to not think so much about it and turned back again to Aman.

Envinyatar

07-22-2004, 10:09 AM

‘Miz Zimzi needs you,’ panted Matty, quite out of breath. He had run from the Inn and spent several frantic minutes in search of Derufin.

Derufin grinned at the lad. His Zimzi needed him, did she? There was something in Matty’s face, however, that made the smile slip from the man’s face. And now he crouched down, a frown creasing his own. ‘Did she send you, Matty? What did she say?’

‘Oh. It weren’t her Master Derufin. It was Buttercup what sent me to fetch you. Miz Zimzi is sitting on the stairs. Had a spell of some sort I think. Miz Buttercup is sitting on the stairs with her.’

With no ‘pardon me’, Derufin took off sprinting for the Inn. Cook growled at him as he left muddy tracks across her kitchen floor and banged opened the door to the Common Room in his haste. The music and Ruby’s song barely registered as he made for the stairwell. Aman and Buttercup stood up and made room for him as sat down beside Zimzi. His arm slipped about her and he drew her head against the comfort of his shoulder, his free hand seeking hers.

‘What’s frightened you, my own dear heart,’ he whispered, pulling her into the circle of his protection.

Aniriuq Raevla

07-22-2004, 01:18 PM

Anja waved back at Tom.I need to rest.She thought sleepily.She was overcome by a yawn that cracked her jaw.She looked back at Tom,who looked very pleased about something,and the inkeeper.Anja tried to remember the innkeepers name as she taped her fingers on the table.What was it....Ah yes,Aman....i think.....She yawned once more and and looked to Ana.

"Well,it's been nice to have you for company Ana,I appreciate it. Again,i'm sorry if I alarmed you with my behavior tonight. Well,it's getting pretty late,and I need to get some rest. So if you will excuse me."Anja got up and streched."Oh,and thank you for the bread.Good night,perhaps we shall meet again in the morning."

Anja walked away from the table and towards Tom and Aman."Pardon me,"She said,nodding to Tom in greeting. She grinned at him. His face was full of delight,and whatever had happened to him to make him so happy,Anja was glad of it. She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and turned to the innkeeper.

"If there are any left,I would like to have a room for the night,please."

Lalwendë

07-22-2004, 02:20 PM

The room was very smoky and warm and Jinniver was sitting back in her chair feeling contentedly full and very sleepy. She had bought herself two ales at the bar, to avoid going through the trauma again. She had wondered whether two would be enough, yet it was a little too much, as the ale was a strong brew. A tiny vein in her forehead throbbed and the inn seemed very noisy all of a sudden.

She had spoken to three old gaffers on their way out of the pub. They had stopped by and bought several bunches of her flowers, “Probably for their wives, so they may hope to get away with coming home so late and so merry“, thought Jinniver. They had smelled very strongly of drink, and one had held onto the table throughout, as though he might fall to the floor at any moment. With a little of the money she had made, she bought some sweet smelling pipeweed, which she was now enjoying.

A man standing by the fireside was relating a tale to a crowd gathered around him. It was not hard to hear him, but Jinniver leaned forward all the same, as it was a dark story concerning the northern lands, away up the Greenway. He told the tale with a look of horror on his face, and she was fascinated. She loved to hear such stories; her father had been fond of reciting them, particularly on stormy nights, but since the dark days he much preferred a comic rhyme or a tale of romance.

Jinniver had missed these thrilling tales and rhymes. When the man mentioned the cursed knife she jumped, and seeing her old dagger lying on the table, pulled it back towards herself. She kept tight hold of the dagger until the story ended, scared, yet excited at the same time.

She was one of many who toasted the man when his story was through. Enlivened by the toast to the kings, the crowd was soon calling for a song, and Jinniver wished she was bold enough to offer up one of the old verses she knew. She went a little red at the thought of standing up in this room, but thankfully a few of the hobbits struck up a song. She sat quietly, savouring the sights and sounds of the inn, as the time would soon come to sink into that feather bed.

piosenniel

07-22-2004, 05:51 PM

‘Naught that you can protect me from,’ came the muffled reply. Zimzi raised her face and pulled a little away from him, so that she might look him in the face. A little color had come back into her cheeks, and a little warmth to her hands, now, as he took them between his own and chafed them gently.

‘Then what I might I do for you,’ he returned.

‘Help me up, if you will’ she said putting one of her hands on the banister as he stood with her other grasped firmly in his. She peered down toward the table where Eodwine and his gathered group sat, listening to the music and song. ‘Do you see that man down there?’ She directed Derufin’s attention to where Eodwine sat, a mug in hand. In quick words she gave an outline of the story he had told.

‘It should have made me glad that he was rescued by those brave companions. And indeed I do rejoice that he lives and Sauron’s minion is vanquished. But it chills me to the very bone that another being of some power, one of the maiar he said, was corrupted and still lives. And quite possibly just north of the Shire. What fell schemes might that one weave, who has all the time in Arda to concoct them.’ She shivered a little at the thought. ‘If we are to live here and raise our family, I would that our time and theirs be marred only by the little ills that come into one’s life naturally.’ She looked him gravely in the eye. ‘What could be done to make our children and their children safe? How will we know that the evil he spoke of is truly defeated?’

‘Let me speak with Uien,’ he said, taking her concerns seriously. ‘And I’ll see what I can learn from Eodwine and from Falco.’

She looped her arm through his and went down the steps. At the landing, they spoke briefly with Buttercup, who’d been called away to see to the needs of the crowd. She was relieved that what black mood had struck Zimzi now seemed to have left her for the moment.

Derufin opened the door to the kitchen, ushering Zimzi through. He was about to take a step in, himself, when the loud command stayed his entrance.

‘I just finished mopping the mess you made on your way in, Stablemaster!’ came the irate voice of Cook. She leaned on the rag mop handle, a bucket of dirty water near her feet and glared at him. ‘You keep your muck and mire in the stable where it belongs!’ She cocked her head and pointed a finger at his feet. ‘Now you just be taking those boots off now if you intend to step foot in my kitchen!’

Zimzi smiled and bit back a comment of her own. ‘Best do as Mistress Vinca says, Derufin. Or you’ll have to take the long way round for a cup of tea. And even then we’ll be sitting on the back step to drink it.’

littlemanpoet

07-23-2004, 08:37 PM

Uien was seated next to Falowik. Eodwine's story had brought the memory back to her in all its painful horror. She had not been there in body, but in spirit. It was an evil memory, and the death of Lira made it more poignant. She pressed Falowik's hand and their eyes met. His looked into hers with relief and happiness. She smiled.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone approaching from the kitchen. It was Zimzi, who made her way through the crowd and came to Uien. Uien greeted her and made room next to her for Zimzi to sit down. Zimzi sat next to her and smiled, but there was the shadow of a haunting in her eyes.

"Are you well, Zimzi?"

"Yes," she nodded. But when she met Uien's eyes, her face changed and the fear was writ there for Uien. "Master Eodwine spoke of an evil Maiar still lurking in the north. Is it so?"

"My fëa was there, Zimzi." Uien held her eyes. "With the eyes of my fëa I saw that Maiar take the Dark Lord's former servant into itself, then fade into the east. It left us. I know not where it went."

Envinyatar

07-25-2004, 01:17 AM

‘There you are!’ Derufin juggled two mugs of tea, a pot of honey, and a small plate of walnut and spice cookies. ‘’Cook decided she wanted another swipe at the kitchen’s floor with her mop. So, she’s piled up “something to tide you two over” into my arms and hands, and I’ve been doing a balancing act looking for you.’

Zimzi rose from her chair and took the plate of cookies, teetering on the honey pot out from under Derufin’s chin. Next came the pot, and Uien’s hands reached up to take it. Her eyes lit up at the liquid gold hidden within, recalling her first encounter with it at Cook’s table, long ago . . . or so it seemed.

‘If I’d known you were sitting here with Uien, I would have brought another mug for her.’ Uien reached behind her, picking up her own mug of tea from the table. ‘Well, then, share our cookies with us,’ he said grinning.

‘I asked her about the maiar that Eodwine spoke about.’ Zimzi put her hand lightly on Derufin’s forearm. ‘She tells me that she saw the maiar flee into the east.’ Uien nodded her head as Zimzi spoke.

Derufin shifted in his chair so that he could look Zimzi in the face. ‘And has what she said resolved your fears?’ He put the fingers of one hand beneath her chin, tilting it up so that he might see it fully. His brown eyes considered the deep grey of hers. They held no clouds as he could see, but the shadow of a frown creased her brow lightly as she answered.

Eruantalon

07-25-2004, 06:55 PM

Beginning to feel hungry he realized he hadn’t eaten yet. A young boy plops down off his hoarse and walks into the Inn. Leaving his horse at the rear of the Inn he tied her up to a tree branch. He had to remember to get it water later.

Finding a table by an open window he sits down into his new seat. With his hands held together patiently he saw food being served all around him and waits. Eye brows perking up with each tray that passes. Cheese, bread, meats, and all types of drinks are being served.

The boy is wondering if he has enough money for something. If he hadn’t been in town spending his hard earned money all day he would have had something left. Tomorrow was his mothers birthday and although they where humble farmers. He saved up for an especially beautiful present for her.

piosenniel

07-26-2004, 12:57 PM

A small frown creased her brow as she considered his question. Perhaps she was just being foolish in her concern over the escaped creature. Still Sauron had been a maiar, a creature of light at one time, and look at all the suffering and destruction he had caused with his evil ways. ‘It is the lot of us Younger Children of Iluvatar to struggle against wickedness,’ she said, half to herself. ‘We are more easily swayed by its promises, I think.’

She shook her head lightly, the lines of worry slipping from her face as her gaze slid over Uien’s sweet face and came to rest on Derufin. ‘I’ll take Eodwine’s story as a reminder to remain watchful. That’s how I will resolve those fears. They are real enough, I think; shadow will always grow larger where light does not shine on it. This last war was only one battle in a long line of struggles, and not the last. That’s how I will think of it.’ She placed her hands in his. ‘We will have a pleasant and long life in the Shire, you and I. With many children and scores of grandchildren to lean on when we are bent and old. A pleasant life . . . but we will stay watchful . . . and teach them all to be watchful, too . . .’

Uien laughed, a clear bright sound, and gave both Derufin and Zimzi a quick kiss on their cheeks. ‘A promise to you both,’ she said, ‘wherever I find myself, I will be watchful, also.’

A firm voice broke in on their little pact . . .‘Your tea’s a bit cold, you three . . . Cook’s sent me round with refills. Buttercup gathered up their cold mugs and placed them on her tray. ‘Here’s a fresh mug for each of you. Now eat those cookies or Cook’ll think something’s gone wrong with them!’ She passed the plate to each, eyeing them until they’d each taken one. ‘Things always look better with a full stomach. Or so my Gran always said. And I’ve found it to be true!’

The Hobbit hurried on to the next table, her skirts swishing around her legs in her retreat. Behind her came the sound of laughter as they watched her go . . . and the sound of teeth crunching on cookies . . .

starkat

07-26-2004, 01:51 PM

After a period of silence, Gwenneth realized that her companion had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him, she pulled out a sheet of paper. The elf wrote him a short note telling him good night and then got up from the table.

Gwenneth walked over to an empty table and signaled to the hobbit. The elf maid asked for another glass of tea and then turned so she could watch the others in the room.

piosenniel

07-26-2004, 02:56 PM

Notice of Coming Time Change in The Green Dragon

Everyone please begin to wrap up your night-time posts – day after tomorrow (about 36 hours from now), I am moving the Inn onto the next day’s morning.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

starkat

07-26-2004, 03:07 PM

Gwenneth had finished her second cup of tea and was just thinking about her visit from her brother. Realizing that she was about to fall asleep where she was, the elf maid stood and stretched.

She headed out to the stables for a quick check on her horse. After seing that Elenath was happy, Gwenneth headed to her room. Her family still on her mind, she tossed and turned for a few moments and then fell asleep.

littlemanpoet

07-26-2004, 07:29 PM

Eodwine looked around at the others, and at the thinning crowd. "Friends," he said after a moment of deep ale-belabored thought, "has anyone bothered to check to see if there were rooms available?"

Falco Boffin gave Eodwine a stricken, wide eyed look. "By my old gaffer's last eye tooth, I think not!"

"Perhaps we should see to it," answered Eodwine, his tongue massaging the words lazily.

"Be my guest," said Falco."

"Master Falco," Eodwine leaned forward and gave him as steady a look as he was able, "that is my point. We are nobody's guest, just eaters and drinkers so far."

Falowik chuckled, having kept a more or less clear head until now. "Uien and I will see what we can find out, my friend."

"My thanks, Master Falow-hic! 'Scuse me."

Falowik and Uien left Eodwine, Falco, Gorby, Anson and Finëwen in various states of drowsing, and sought out Aman.

Envinyatar

07-27-2004, 12:30 PM

The night was quiet as he walked toward the stables. An occasional nighthawk’s cry could be heard against the dark sky, and the pattering of small feet through the grasses near the garden as some small animal helped itself to the Inn’s bounty. Derufin reached the stable doors and stepped into a soft puddle of muted gold . . . the light from the small lamp, turned low, hanging just inside the entryway that Merrimac had left for him.

‘No need for this, now,’ he thought turning the wick down and blowing gently across the glass chimney. The moon had risen, waxing halfway to full, and shown in through the open skylight above. It was enough light for him to find his way back to his old room. And, indeed, were it dark as pitch, he could have walked the way through the stables without stumbling . . . so familiar was the place to him.

To his right, set along the long wall were the work areas – tools, shoes, nails, leather, medicines; all manner of things to make the stay of the horses and ponies a good one as they waited for their masters. To his left were the stalls, only half-filled this evening, most of the patrons at the Inn being locals. Horses moved in their stalls as he passed; he called out in a low voice to them, calming words of reassurance. Young Merrimac, the stable-boy, was already asleep in the right hand room at the back of the stable. He turned, sighing in his sleep, lost in some dream.

Derufin turned left into his rooms. Ruby had obviously come out and tidied them up for him while he was in the Inn. There were fresh linens on the bed and a small post of flowers from the garden on the table where the lamp stood. Towels were on the dresser top, as were a clean cup and a small ewer of water. He sat wearily on the bed – it had been a long day of travel. Stripped down to his small clothes he tucked himself beneath the covers, relishing the feel and smell of fresh sheets. Light scents of lavender clung to them from the lavender sprigs hung in the linens’ closet each week.

His window, to the left of the bed was opened, and he could just hear the far away croaks of the frogs at The Pool. One arm tucked beneath his head, he lay staring into the darkness. ‘Only a week,’ he smiled, ‘and I will have my dear heart here beside me . . .’

piosenniel

07-27-2004, 12:34 PM

Notice of Coming Time Change in The Green Dragon

Everyone please begin to wrap up your night-time posts – tomorrow (about 12 hours from now, my time), I am moving the Inn onto the next day’s morning.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

Lalwendë

07-27-2004, 01:47 PM

Jinniver tapped the ash from the bowl of her pipe into an earthenware basin on her table, and took a scrap of old cotton from one of the pockets on her belt. She carefully wiped the pipe clean, and yawning, put it away. She had already been out for a few minutes to see that her cart horse, Nutkin, was stabled comfortably for the night, and finding him sleepily chewing what looked like the finest hay in The Shire, she was content. After taking a canvas bag from her cart, she had gone back indoors to enjoy a little more pipeweed before bed.

It was now very late, but she had been enjoying the stories and music of these strangers and had been resolutely fighting the urge to sleep. Now she could fight no longer and decided to make her way to bed. As she stood up, her knees cracked and she winced. This was the result of many years spent kneeling on the cold ground to tend plants and although she was used to the cracking noise, when she stood up after a long time sitting, there was also pain.

Her room was easy to find, and going through the door she ducked, expecting it to have a low ceiling, to be built for hobbits. She was surprised when she found that the room was as high as any she was used to, and that the bed was larger than any she had ever seen. Pressing it lightly with her hand and finding that it was even softer than she had hoped for, Jinniver pushed the door to and began to change into her nightclothes quickly. She removed the yellow rose from her hair and loosened the four thick braids so that they fell down her back, but she did not undo them any further, as she was now too tired for any more fussing about.

Blowing out her candle, she crawled between the cool linen sheets. A moth that had fluttered into the room with her, following the dim candlelight, flew madly about, now trapped for the rest of the night. He made for the window where the moonlight was streaming in, his wings beating uselessly against the glass. Jinniver didn’t notice the creature and she stretched out, savouring the feeling of comfort for a moment before she turned over and fell into a deep sleep. Under her pillow she had placed the black dagger.

Eruantalon

07-27-2004, 03:56 PM

A farmer’s life was not an easy one to say the least. But all this going about town didn’t seem any easier. Never in his life had he seen so many different people around him. He was filled with excitement and wonders at all the faces.

There seemed to be an Elf in the inn. This was a miracle to him. He kept trying to see who was coming and going. “People seemed so busy that a small boy could go unnoticed here!” He thought to himself. But now as the time waned and the day took its toll on him. He found he didn’t need food or rest as much as the faint soft breeze from the window.

The fragrance was sweet and mild and put some enchantment on him. Because soon it seemed he had fallen asleep. There he lay no more than fourteen years old. He was two thirds as tall as an average man. But he had wispy blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He was pale and thin but not from a lack of food. It seemed he ate all the time but never really got any heavier.

Lulled by a soft breeze and twinkling stars. He drifted into a wonderful dream. It would be a surprise if he didn’t start smiling in this state. But for now he seemed content.

Aniriuq Raevla

07-27-2004, 06:16 PM

"You know what?On second thought,I desire to sleep beneath the stars tonight."Anja said to Aman.She nodded to Tom and the inkeeper,and walked away. As she walked towards the door,she noticed a young boy,about three years younger than her,asleep on a table by the window. She stared at him for a while,then continued to walk outside.

A few minutes later,she layed on her back on the lush grass outside of the inn,near the stables. Her pack was lying next to her and she took out a blue handled dagger. She couldnt remember where she got it,but whenever she saw it,a proud feeling rose up in her.She put one arm behind her head and the other under her cloak,which she placed over her as a blanket,holding onto the dagger. She was a little frightened sleeping outside,she felt like something bad had happened to her on a similar occasion,but her father had always said to overcome your fears.....

He had said that?.....YES!He had!She had remembered something else!
With a smug smile on her face,and the stars smiling down on her,she fell asleep.

piosenniel

07-28-2004, 03:36 AM

Cook, of course, was the first one up in the morning. It was good to be back in her own kitchen! Up early, she had started the dough for the day’s bread, and made the apple pies that would grace the tables for lunch. A large pot was set on the hob to bubble away as the stacks of chicken and taters and vegetables, fresh from the garden, all cut bite size, were put into it. Chicken soup, it would be, with hot, thick crusted bread for lunch. The pies and clotted cream would round out the menu.

She was just dropping a bouquet of bay and rosemary into the soup, when Buttercup came stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing her still sleepy eyes. Without a word she began to set up the trays to be taken out to the tables for the first meal of the day – breakfast. Plates, mugs, and eating utensils first. Then, pots of sweet cream butter, pots of blackberry jam and those of honey were set out first, along with small silvered pitchers of cream for tea. The teapots, themselves, were all lined up along one counter in the kitchen, fresh leaves awaiting the hot water, just off the boil, to bring out their aroma and flavor.

Ruby, by this time, had dragged down the stairs, mumbling as she entered the kitchen that she needed a cuppa strong, sweet tea first . . . then she would start the thick sliced, Shire ham and fried taters in the big iron skillets all greased and waiting. Several dozen eggs were cracked and whipped to a frothy concoction, ready to be scrambled for the hungry patrons.

Even Derufin did not escape the direction of Cook after he had come into the kitchen seeking some tea before he saw to the horses. ‘The horses can wait a bit,’ she told him. ‘I’ll just slice the bread. You get it onto the toasting forks and fill up these baskets here.’

The kitchen soon was humming with a quiet energy. Eggs, ham, and taters sizzled in their pans; toast turned a golden brown; tea from the southlands sent its steamy fragrance sliding among the others.

When all was ready, the serving girls working that morning loaded up platter with plates of the various foods and distributed them to the tables. Eager customers helped themselves to the bounty and ate until they were well satisfied; then, sat back and sighed, and ate a little more.

Firefoot

07-28-2004, 05:37 AM

Lily awoke refreshed and relaxed after a deep restful sleep. She was ready for the day to begin. She pulled on a patterned blue dress, simple but well made. Her hair was pulled into a secure braid. She then headed downstairs, quietly so as not to wake those still asleep.

There were a few people in the common room already, despite the early hour, eating breakfast that was set out on the tables. Lily's mouth watered at the scent of eggs, ham, and taters. She selected an empty table and sat down. She tried not to eat too fast, but she was incredibly eager to get out to the stables and begin her planned ride with Posco. Just the thought brought a smile to her face. When she was quite full, she pushed back her chair and walked outside. The day was beautiful: warm, with dew still coating the grass, and golden beams of early morning sun covering the land. She enjoyed the short walk to the stable, and once she got there found her pony, Clover.

"Hey there," she said to him, stroking his soft nose. "Ready for a ride today?" Clover nickered as if in assent and tossed his head. Lily smiled. She walked down the aisle and found her tack much more easily today, now that she knew where it was. She saddled up Clover and walked him outside to wait for Posco.

starkat

07-28-2004, 08:42 AM

Gwenneth awoke to the sounds of birds outside her window. Being one who woke early and easily, she got up and got ready for the day.

Instead of wearing another dress, the elf maid had chosen to wear her riding clothes. They consisted of a dark, forest green tunic and tights to match. Her high boots were a rich brown colour and extremely comfortable. Gwenneth spent a few moments braiding her hair and headed downstairs.

Before she reached the bottom, Gwenneth could hear the sounds of cooking in the kitchen. Wonderful smells were coming from the same area. The elf avoided the common room for the moment and headed ouside to the stables.

Since it was still early, Gwenneth opened the stable door quietly and headed for Elenath's stall. Seeing that her mare was happily munching on hay, she walked back to the inn.

She entered the common room and found an empty table.

Kitanna

07-28-2004, 09:01 AM

Peony was up before Deva the next morning. She dressed and went down to have some breakfast. The two were making plans to leave sometime before lunch. Hopefully Deva was up sometime before lunch.

Peony took a seat at a table in a far corner. She would sit there, eat, and think for a little while. There were few other people in the common room. That suited Peony just fine, she would be able to hear her own thoughts better.

In a few minutes Peony would go get some breakfast. She felt it too early to eat and she wasn't even all that hungry.

littlemanpoet

07-28-2004, 01:42 PM

The seven travelers gathered in the common room for breakfast. Eodwine held his head in both hands, his elbows on the table. Falco was snickering at him.

"Master, Eodwine, you need to learn to handle your ale better."

"What would you expect, Master Falco, of one who has been starved and almost gutted in recent weeks. Ow! And keep your voice down. Heavens above, I do not even know where I slept last night."

"Nor do I," Falco replied, "come to think of it. What of the rest of you?"

"I cannot remember a thing about sleeping," Falowik admitted. "We must have done so, for here it is morning! And I feel refreshed!"

"And there Ruby and Buttercup are already about the day's business," Gorby put in.

"We must break our fast soon," Uien said, "for we must be off to catch up with Eswen and Lumiel."

"Aye."

"What," groaned Eodwine, "do they have for a strong morning drink to calm one's throbbing scull?"

Falco rose. "I will have a talk with Buttercup," he announced, and walked off to the kitchen.

Envinyatar

07-28-2004, 11:35 PM

Cook was sitting at the small table in the middle of the kitchen when Derufin returned from the stables. He’d set Merrimac to cleaning out the stalls, after leading the horses and ponies out to the large fenced pen beneath the oak tree. Breakfast was well under way, and he grabbed a plate for himself, filling it with eggs and four slices of toast. He plopped himself down in the chair opposite Cook and poured himself a steaming mug of tea.

‘You eat like a Shire lad!’ said Ruby, nudging him on the arm as she passed through the kitchen with a tray of eggs and ham for those coming into the Common Room. Derufin grinned at her, mumbling around a mouthful of eggs, ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you!’ He reached for the pot of gooseberry jam and spread it thickly on his toast.

‘Imzi’s not come down yet?’ he asked Cook, who sat with her feet up on a nearby chair. She was busy making a list of some sort, her quill flying over the paper. ‘What?’ she asked, looking up with a frown on her face. ‘Oh, Imzi . . . no, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her this morning.’ She gave Derufin a considering look. ‘Leave the poor lass alone, you hear. Let her sleep in. I’ve plans that will keep her busy for the rest of the week.’

Derufin gulped and craned his neck trying to see what was on Cook’s list. Naught but to do it, he cleared his throat and spoke in a firm voice. ‘I hope my name is not on your list, Mistress Vinca,’ he began in his most charming manner. ‘I have my own plans for the week. The old caretaker’s cottage at the end of the property . . . I was hoping to . . .’ His explanation was brought to a halt by an exclamation of approval from Cook and the sight of her crossing off a section of her list near the beginning.

‘Excellent, my dear,’ Cook said, patting him on the arm. ‘I’ve sent for some of the local lads – the ones good with hammer and saw and that sort of thing. They should be here just before second breakfast. A promise of food and drink and a dance with Buttercup at the end of the week and they were more than willing to come.’

‘A dance with Buttercup? End of the week?’ It was Derufin’s turn to frown.

‘Why, the handfasting. As soon as Zimzi’s family arrives we’ll get to it! I have it all planned and well in hand.’ She stood up and whisked away his nearly finished breakfast. He started to protest, but one look at her steely eyes was enough to know it would be no use.

‘Now out you go,’ she said, pushing him toward the back door. ‘Get your tools and ladders out to the cottage; the lads are bringing a wagon load of lumber. We’ll need to get the repairs done in the next few days – the girls and I will be wanting to do a bit of decorating, you know . . . before you and the missus move in.’

Derufin’s head was awhirl with Cook’s instructions as he strode across the back yard of the Inn, heading toward the old cottage near the pond at the edge of the Inn property. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of four strapping Hobbit lads in a long wagon turning up the path to the Inn. Two sturdy Shire ponies pulled the lot, the bells on their harness jingling merrily.

Eruantalon

07-29-2004, 01:37 AM

The sound and sent of fresh food lingered in the air like a dew greeting the boy. He awoke with a smile hearing and smelling ham, tatters, eggs, toast and all manner of breakfast being made. He quickly rushed off to his horse who he had forgotten the night before.

Stumbling into the summer morning sun, he found his way around the back of the inn. His horse seemed tired from the long ride the night before. He took it to the stables where he saw an Elf maiden caring to her horse as well. She didn’t even notice him around the stable. He could be quit and quick when he wanted to be. He thought she looked so fair in the morning light. Now he saw her more closely than he did the night before. He set his horse into the stabl,e and made his way out after he got the water he had promised the animal.

He was almost out of money this morning. Just then he remembered! His mom made him put some gold coins into a little pouch in his boot. Just incase he was robbed he could at least get back home. He only had one gold coin, but that would be enough for a large breakfast. He must have forgotten it in his weariness the night before.

Entering the inn he saw inn keepers going back and forth. He sat down at his old table and waited. This time as soon as he got there he was greeted with good food. And there was so much of it! He set the gold coin on the table and got ready to eat. The girl smiled at him and asked his name.

“I’m Boffer Hornbottle. Thank you so much for all this wonderful food. I really did need it! Be sure to come out with toast and sweet tea when you can? Thank you again.”

Eating away he saw all different kinds of people around him in the common room. A lady who it seemed was even hungrier than him! She kept trying not to eat quickly but it seemed a lost battle. One lady seemed so lost in thought at her table. He wondered what was in her mind while he ate.

Then there was the cook hurrying around so concerned on getting the food out to everyone. There where several men at a table. One who it seemed drank too much ale the night before. He finished his breakfast with aplomb. Smiling all the while he ate away all the food on the large dish. Bite after bite only seemed to make him happier.

When he was done he waited for the lady to bring him sweet tea and toast. While he waited he thought about how happy his mother would be when she saw his extra special present. She didn’t know about him helping out the miller on weekends. He would run off to the mill and help him carry thing from here to there. Just taking orders and doing what the miller told him. But at the end of the day he had four copper coins. After a whole month he now had enough for what his mother always deserved but never got a taste of.

He had a little corner of luxury for some one who gave so much. She never thought of herself and always gave even when she didn’t really have it. All these things ran through his head while he enjoyed the sunlight stream down on him and his breakfast.

Vitto

07-29-2004, 06:27 PM

A tall figure walked down the towards the inn. He paused a bit as he took note of the morning activities. Brushing a hand through his long brown hair, Mulawin opened the door. The smell of food greeted his nose and he realized he was famished.

Having only paused to rest along the road at night, he'd travelled from the Ford of Loudwater to meet up with Thanatos. He had dallied a bit along the road and had been unable to reach the Inn last night. Looking about the common room, he did not find the person he was looking for.

He sighed, so unlike a ranger, thought Mulawin to himself. He smiled slightly as he walked over to the corner and sat at an available table. Thanatos would likely arrive if not late in the afternoon, then tomorrow.

Mulawin placed his traveling bag and unslung bow to one side. The serving maid approached with a smile and promptly gave him his meal, pausing to ask his name and welcoming him to the Green Dragon Inn.

He slowly began to eat as he took note of the inn's patrons.

starkat

07-29-2004, 06:42 PM

Gwenneth was just about to order when she noticed a newcomer with long brown hair. She thought about getting up to say hi, but a group of seven drew her attention.

She watched them for a few moments. Gwenneth then got up and walked over to the newcomer. "May I join you?"

InklingElf

07-29-2004, 09:38 PM

SAVE for reworked post.

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

InklingElf

Check your PM's please.

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

littlemanpoet

07-30-2004, 06:33 PM

"Strong tea will have to do," Falco announced as he came back and sat down at table next to Eodwine.

"Oh, very well," Eodwine moaned.

"Come come, Master Eodwine," said Uien, "the tea here is very good! It will do you well."

"Master Eodwine," Falco said, "if you keep up this caterwauling, I'll make sure King Eomer himself hears of it."

Eodwine grinned sourly, pushing his blonde hair away from his brow. "Right you are, right you are. I am behaving in a very bad manner for a veteran of the Rohirrim. So, then, where are we all off to once we have broken our fast?"

"I'm with you, Eodwine," said Falco. "I want to see the world."

Gorby and Anson were looking forward to getting back to Buckland to be reacquainted with family. Uien and Falowik would be following the East Road toward Rivendell, hoping to catch up with Eswen and Lumiel on the road.

"And what of you, Finëwen?" Eodwine asked. "You have been quiet as usual. Will you join Falco and me on the road to Rohan?"

"I said I would. I keep my word."

"Very well then!" Eodwine smiled. "And once we are back, I am going to buy myself a new lyre! Ah! Here come the vittles!"

Sure enough, Buttercup came carrying a wide platter full of breakfast fare. Rose came right behind with tea and milk and butter and pastries. The breakfast was relaxed and long. At least, so thought the humans and elfwoman. The hobbits felt that it had been cut a bit short by the Big People. So all were satisfied, but none were over filled or under, either.

In a matter of a half hour more, their bags were packed, horses fed and saddled, and the seven made their goodbyes to friends and crew, and to each other. It is not told in any tale whether they met again, but each brought fond memories and tales to be told wherever they went.

Eruantalon

07-31-2004, 12:35 AM

Finishing his tea and toast the boy felt new life in him. While he sat there he didn’t notice a man that had come in. Fair skinned and tall with dark hair and piercing blue eyes this man seemed to be looking for something….or some one. The boy sat quietly and ate not noticing a single thing going on around him. That’s when he felt a hand on his collar pulling up.

“Boffer Hornbottle what are you doing here?! You should have been home last night! I don’t know how your parents get any thing out of you! Your very absent minded and never do exactly what your you’re told!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Mandrill!” He said with a choke from the tug. “It’s just that I was so tired and the food here is so good. I didn’t mean to make everyone worry.”

“Well you have now haven’t you?” He sat down beside shaken boy; he felt for a moment he was being a bit harsh. He knew that the boy only meant well. Looking around he realized that they where were only a few miles from his home. Maybe no more than a few hours ride.

“Get yourself together and get ready I need you at the mill. There are things to take care of. You’ll need to get home soon although its morning your mothers mother’s birthday party is tonight. Although I’m sure you could probably sit here and eat all day long. We don’t seem to have that time.”

“Yes sir I will be ready in a bit. Would you mind if we sat for a bit while I filled in the corners here for a few moments?”

Nodding in agreement the miller sat closer to him. The boy told him all about the day before. He asked the miller how he knew he was there. What he told him next made sense in a way. The miller didn’t know that the boy was there. He thought he had gotten home the night before. But he went into there to see if he could get something for lunch for them. He was looking for some one to help him when he noticed the boy.

“So I was getting you and me something to eat for lunch. I figured you where were tired from the big day in town and needed and wanted to treat you to some of Vinca’s cooking.”

The boy reached into his pocket and showed the miller one of the gifts he had gotten. The two smiled and enjoyed their tea. Looking at how late it was getting the two made no haste to get going. It was almost lunch time now. The boy must have put the in inn into debt with how much he ate. Paying one of the girls that worked there the two got up and went through the door.

The miller promised he would take him to lunch there once in a while. He seemed to love the food there and they could enjoy a good cup of sweet tea from time to time.

Firefoot

07-31-2004, 06:54 AM

A grin lit Lily's face as she saw Posco ride up the lane, and her heart sped up more than just a bit. She wasn't sure whether she was surprised or not that he was alone. She swung herself up into her saddle, riding astride as she always had, and not really caring that her dress lifted to show her legs to just below the knees.

"Good morning, Posco!" she called.

"Good morning, Mi-, er, Lily," he replied, smiling shyly. He rode confidently, Lily noted, and sat his pony easily. The fastest pony in Buckland he had said yesterday. She patted Clover's neck. He was no slowpoke either. Perhaps we will see who has the faster pony later, she thought.

"I am ready to go, if you are," said Lily. Posco nodded, and nudged his pony forward. Lily and Clover fell into step beside them, and they rode off up the lane to enjoy the morning in the Shire together.

Lalwendë

07-31-2004, 09:57 AM

Shut in the inn all night long, the moth that had followed Jinniver into the room had settled on her pillow. Starting to wake, she turned her head and dislodged the creature, which fell onto her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she saw the moth and gently scooped it into the palm of her hand, closing her fingers around it. She stumbled out of bed and opening the window, released the moth, who dozily fluttered around outside for a moment.

Jinniver rubbed her face and absent-mindedly started to dress. She had a slight headache and felt confused, remembering the dream she had woken from. There had been a wide open land, uncultivated, and she was alone in it, shivering. She had tried to shout for her father but the words had stuck in her throat. Suddenly she had felt much warmer, and realised that a pair of strong hands were placing a beautiful soft cloak about her shoulders. The same cloak she had dreamt about the night before last, made of plush grey velvet with a red silk lining. Then she had woken to find the moth.

Jinniver pondered over her dream as she dressed, choosing yesterday’s green breeches but a clean lavender coloured tunic, with a fresh white scarf for a collar. She left yesterday’s stained one soaking in the basin of water on the dresser, and hurried down the stairs for breakfast, managing to stub her toe on the way out.

She was halfway through her plate of ham and eggs when she remembered she had not yet brushed and dressed her hair, and embarrassed, she gathered it all up and tied it into a rough knot at the back of her neck. She hoped it would hold, as she had left her belt, with it’s useful ball of string, up in her room. Jinniver exchanged a few words about the fine weather with one of the hobbits who served her up with a huge pot of hot tea, and started to plan out what she might profitably do with her day, once her headache had gone.

Aniriuq Raevla

07-31-2004, 11:46 AM

"I remember!" Anjareen sat up quikly. She could remember! She had had a dream about that night,the night she had forgotten everything.....
She had left her home on her seventeenth birthday,finally being the age at which her parents would let her go on her own. She had wanted to see the world outside of the small village in which she had lived. She rememberd waving to her mother and father,Anit and Yillib,goodbye, she remembered her little brother hugging her leg,her reaching down to ruffle his hair and pull him loose. She remembered walking up the grassy hill near her house,taking one last look at her family and home,and turning away,already thinking of where she should go first.Wherever the road leads,and beyond.She remembered thinking.

A week later,she had found herself in a dark forest. The previous seven days had been full of adventure. She had gone through the most beautiful fileds of flowers she had ever seen,and she could have sworn she had seen some faries. The day before she had found a campsite,which obviously belonged to a thieft. A large,dusty,brown bag,full of jewels,pottery,and clothing lay near a pile opf firewood. A man was snoring from beneath a dirty blanket. Abja had been hiding behind some bushes,and was about to walk away when a blue sparkel caught her eye. It was a dagger ,its' blue handle gleaming temptingly in the bright sun. It lay atop the bag full of stolen items,and called to Anja,telling her to take it,take it away from the ugly idiot who had stolen it.She thought for a while,battling with herself whether to take it or not. It wouldnt be wrong,she told herself,it doesnt belong to him,so it wouldnt be wrong to take it.

BUT,argued her good side,what if the man wakes up? He'll kill you! Or worse,he could-...Hey! What are you doing?STOP!Anja had gotten up slowly,and made her way towrds the dagger quietly,The man twitched a couple of times,but other than that,he didnt move. Anja finally made it to the bag. She snatched the dagger from its place,and began to run away,when she tripped over a rock and fell.

"OOF!"

The man jumped up, and looked for the cause of the noise. With his small,black eyes,his bony face and body,and his pale skin,he looked like a corpse. He turned to Anja,who had got shakily to her feet,and raored
.
"Who the 'ell are you?!"He said in an all too familiar voice.

""I'm warning you!"Anja had said pointing the dagger at him."Dont come near me!I'm armed and dangerous!....Believe it!"

The man stared stupidly at the dagger,and his eyes got wide with anger."'Ey! Thas mine,ya little booger!"He lunged at Anja,who screamed and ran away.The man followed her,and had been for the rest of that day and into the next,trapping her in the dark forest she was in.

She had leaned against a tree,gasping for air,thinking:I've lost him,ha cant have followed me all the way here!

"Where are you 'ittle gul? Come 'ere,I wont 'urt you much!"Came the voice of the man,laughing as he came closer
.
Before Anja could run againg,his hand came from around the tree and wrapped its fingers around her throat.She gagged as he cam around and wrapped his other hand around her throat."Gotcha!Now,time to show 'uo wha' 'appens when ol' Dilly get mad!"

He bent down and picked up a large,jagged rock."Buh bye."He raised the rock over his head and brought it down to her forhead,at the same time Anja,who still had the dagger in her hand,had stabbed Dilly in the stomach.Everything had gone black for Anja as the rock connected with her head,and the last thing she heard was a grunt and a curse coming from the man.

In the present time Anja gently touched the bruise on her head,wincing from the throbbing pain which had just suddenly started.And his voice...it was the voice in her head that had been mocking her,making her talk to herself,looking crazy....

The next few days after the attack,she had wondered around the forest, disoriented, and had stummbled onto the Green Dragon.

Anja laughed and stood up. She rolled up her cloak and put it into her pack,and placing the dagger lovingly into one of the side pockets.She started to hum a happy little tune and danced her way back to the inn.She was happy,no matter what had happened to her a few nights ago.She couldnt help it,she could remember!

She reached up and scratched her head,and stopped dead in her tracks, She could feel her hair,it was wild,sticking up here and there,her curls fluffy,hardly looking like they used to.

I cant have that,now can I?She thought.Within a few minutes,she had her hair more behaved,and with just that little adjustment,she looked much better. Her eyes shone gleefully in the suns' light,her lips looked full and nolonger chap,she looked much healthier.

She skipped into the inn,still humming,greeting other costumers with a smile and a wave.She sat at a table in the middle of the room,One of the maids came to ask her order.

"Ay,a nice large mug 'o ale would do me fine miss,thank you!"She said in a loud merry voice,which was no longer harsh.She leaned back and propped her feet on the table,still humming and smiling at passing people.

Vitto

08-01-2004, 07:08 PM

Mulawin watched a group of men getting ready to depart it seemed. The other patrons were still busy with their morning meal, and the serving maid was busy attending their needs.

A young boy was at another table. The young lad seemed oblivious to his surroundings and didn't notice the figure walking towards him.

That was when Mulawin noticed the elf maiden coming towards him with a polite smile. She was tall, her long hair braided and she was attired in a green tunic. Although he had seen elves before he'd never seen one this far from Loudwater, or Bruinen as the elves of Rivendell called it.

"May I join you?" She asked politely.

He had to catch himself from staring too long at her. Mulawin was thankfully glad his friend was not around just yet. His friend had an irritating way of teasing him when it came to "mingling with females"- as Thanatos would term it. As if being a ranger gave him time to do that.

He stood and politely offered the empty chair.

"I would be quite honored, my Lady", he said, clearing his throat.

As they both sat down, curiosity got the best of him. Before he could stop himself he asked, "What brings you to these parts?"

piosenniel

08-02-2004, 01:07 AM

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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

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.

piosenniel

08-02-2004, 01:07 AM

It is nearing noon-time at the Green Dragon Inn. Breakfast is still being served.

The day is proving to be a fair one so far . . . no clouds on the horizon as yet.

starkat

08-02-2004, 07:46 AM

Gwenneth thanked him and took her seat. Before answering the man’s question, the elf maid quickly ordered her breakfast. For a moment she fiddled with the jewel that she wore around her neck. She noticed that he was trying hard not to stare at her.

“My name is Gwenneth. I hail from my family home near the Grey Havens.” The man across from her sat waiting for her to continue. “It was my turn to travel and the Shire is the first stop in my journey. My only companion is my horse, Elenath. She was a gift from my father a couple of years ago.”

Her breakfast arrived and Gwenneth spent a few moments eating. She took a sip of her tea and turned to the man. “What is your name? What brings you to these parts?”

Vitto

08-03-2004, 05:20 PM

The young ranger was silently listening and continued to eat his meal while the elf maiden spoke. He remained silent, still wondering why an elf of Grey Havens would be journeying this far. Most of his elven friends were journeying to Grey Havens.

That's when he remembered why Thanatos would be meeting him here. His friend was accompanying a small group of elves. They had agreed Thana would meet him here while their friends continued onwards to Mithlond.

He gazed around the room and saw a young female who seemed distracted and was humming to herself. The young boy he'd noticed earlier stood up with his companion and left.

"What is your name? What brings you to these parts?" The Gwenneth asked.

"My apologies. They call me Mulawin. A simple ranger journeying from the Ford of Bruinen near Rivendell. I was to meet with a friend here." He paused and smiled." Do you know then, Lord Cirdan? What news in the Grey Havens?"

starkat

08-04-2004, 04:35 PM

“I am afraid that I do not know him. I have met him briefly, but have not spent much time near the shore. My interests have always lain with our horses. I have spent most of my time with them.” The elf maid smiled as an astonished look crossed the Ranger’s face for a moment. “I know what you are thinking, an elf who does not wish to cross the sea. I will one day, but not until my journey is over.”

Gwenneth fiddled with the jewel she wore on a chain before continuing. “In my family there is a tradition. Once we reach 100 years of age, we set out on a two year journey through Middle Earth. Right now my only companion is my horse, Elenath. She was a gift from my father. He brought her back from one of his trips to Rohan.”

Ruby Brown came by and asked them if the wanted refills. After their glasses were filled, Gwenneth and Mulawin sat in silence for a few moments. Gwenneth looked around at the goings on in the inn. She heard Mulawin tapping his fingers against the table and realized that he was waiting for her to continue.

The elf maid tucked a few strands of loose hair back behind her ear. “Would you tell me about some of the places you have been? As a Ranger, you must have journeyed far.” She waited for his reply.

Vitto

08-04-2004, 07:25 PM

Mulawin thought for a moment and smiled. "Where would I begin, my Lady? Across Eriador I've often wandered, where ever duty called. To the north I've been to Fornost Erain, the ancient city of the Dunedain. To the south I've journeyed along the banks of the River Isen. Of late I've come from Rivendell, one could rest awhile there, all weariness be taken from you. Great is the power of healing in the House of the Lord Elrond.

Beyond that would be the Misty Mountains then Rhovanion. Beyond those snow tipped mountains lie Eryn Lasgalen once called Mirkwood in Rhovanion, where peace again reigns. One could wander there now, never growing tired of the trees and beasts of that great forest.

I've followed the River Anduin, and seen the Gladden Fields, with the golden irises - which once was called Leog Ninglorin I believe. 'twas there I met a an elf, a good friend. Though I've not seen him for some time. I never got to ask him why he was often called a dark elf- perhaps something to do with your lore.

Though I've passed Lorien, I've never had the privilege of entering its woods. Only bidden may one enter in the Golden woods.

Rohan I've only seen from a distance, though."

He noticed she often fiddled the jewel she wore on a chain around her neck. She was listening intently to him. Her clear blue eyes shining, like a cloudless sky in the morning.

"Where are you headed? To Rivendell or beyond?" Mulawin asked as he took another sip of his drink.

Eiz

08-04-2004, 07:54 PM

It was mid morning, the sky was clear and the sun shing bright. Thanatos looked around. He had just parted with his elven friends who would be heading towards the Grey havens.

He was late he knew, but Mulawin was use to it. Often times his younger companion new to give him a day or two allowance. The young ranger would probably be at the Inn by now, if he hadn't arrived last night.

Since peace had return, there would be times duty would have them both journeying from one end of Eriador to Misty Mountains. There were times now though, one could catch up with friends on news of everyday things.

Still garbed in his travelling tunic, he had not worn his cloak since it was getting warm. He brushed his golden locks back, his hair was falling just short of his shoulder. His blue eyes scanned the road ahead. Several hobbits paused to greet him with a smile and a nod, and he greeted back.

Finally arriving at the Green Dragon Inn, he opened the door and was greeted by Ruby Brown.

"Welcome to the Green Dragon Inn, good sir! Will you be breaking your fast with some bacon, eggs and hot tea? Or perhaps some ale?"

"Something to eat and drink, thank you," he replied.

There were several people, all busy with their morning meal. He saw Mulawin at a table with an elf maiden. He paused, a bit amused before walking slowly towards his friend's table.

starkat

08-04-2004, 09:28 PM

Gwenneth enjoyed listening to Mulawin’s descriptions of his travels. As he listed place after place, a wistful smile crossed her face. “I wish I could see all of the places that you have been.” She looked down at the jewel around her neck. “I do not yet know where I am headed. I would hope to see Rivendell, Lorien, Rohan, and Gondor.”

“My mother’s family is in Eryn Lasgalen. She tells me stories of her youth there. My father lived in Rivendell for a time. They finally settled near the Havens.” Her companion sat there nodding at what she had said. Gwenneth pushed her glass away and leaned back. “Do you have any recommendations on where to go?”

“My mare is from Rohan and I have always wanted to see the place of her birth. To meet the horse lords and learn about their horses.” The elf maid looked into the eyes of the man across from her. She was about to continue when a man with golden hair wearing a travel stained tunic walked up to their table. The elf maid watched as Mulawin greeted the newcomer.

Nurumaiel

08-05-2004, 11:54 AM

Posco had left for the Inn early that morning, and no doubt he was already out riding with Lily.

Marcho tugged at the little girl's hand, and she clung harder to it. Really, it was must unfair that he had to take care of the girl. She was such a feisty and spirited little thing, and he knew nothing about taking care of children, let alone little girls! Why couldn't it have been Bingo, who would know just what to say and just what to do? The child was odd... she was not beautiful in face but she had a trick of deluding a hobbit into thinking she was. Her brown curls were wild and unruly, though she had been sitting in front of a mirror for hours that morning trying to comb it down. It wouldn't be combed. For every curl that was put neatly in place two more would spring up to fall in her face and tumble about her eyes. Her eyes were large and brown and soft like a deer's, but not gentle and mild. They would glint with mischief, and then soften to be thoughtful, and then sparkle with anger. One eye was slightly larger than the other; something that was barely perceptible but something the girl noticed every time she looked in the mirror; something she very much regretted. Her cheeks were rosy, however, and her nose was the prettiest little thing. She was young, about ten years old perhaps, and the looks of sadness that passed over her features were a sign that even in her young age she had suffered. Marcho had felt compassion for her from the first; the little thing had lost her parents.

Akin to Blanco and Posco she was, in the most minor fact that she was a twin. When her parents had died her family had been split up, and she had gone to live with her Aunt Donnamira. She had nine brothers and sisters, and talked about them with the greatest deal of pride, especially her little sisters; Marcho never guessed that she had once sat in scorn of those little sisters and thought them very... 'wimpy' was the word this girl had used at the time, at it was beyond Marcho's vocabulary.

She was walking along now, trying her utmost to keep her back straight and her shoulders back, and trying not to muss her pretty green dress. The dress made her look like a wood creature, Blanco had said, for she was the colors of a tree... brown and green. The girl had looked quite indignant and had told Blanco in emphathetic tones that a hobbit had been saying just the other day what creamy skin she had; she was in no way brown-skinned. Her aunt had always made her wear her bonnet out of doors and she had never be exposed in such a way to the sun, thank you very much! Marcho had guessed from this that she was odd, but he would never have guessed that this prim and ladylike creature clinging to his hand had been in older days what might be classified by some as a 'tomboy.' Her Aunts Donnamira and Mirabella had known this well, and so had sent the girl to a relation of hers to be cared for, this particular relation turning out to be, in fact, the aunt of Blanco and Posco, Aunt Malva. Marcho would hav been deeply surprised if he had known how many grouchy aunts the girl had been in the care of... her Aunt Mirabella she had run away from, her Aunt Donnamira had scolded her, made her feel wretched and sent her right back, and after she had run away from her Aunt Mirabella again and had been inticed to go back, her Aunt Mirabella had sent her to Malva, who was also a grouchy aunt. If Marcho had known this, however, he would not have been surprised to hear that the girl considered all aunts grouchy and mean.

"Hurry up, Donnamira," said Marcho, his tone as kind as he could muster in his impatience.

Her lips formed into a pout and she looked up at him reproachfully. "Uncle Marcho," she said, "I am not called Donnamira. Well, I suppose I am, but nobody is to call me that. My wicked aunt is called Donnamira. You must do as I have asked you countless times... my name is Don."

"It isn't a very ladylike name," said Marcho, restraining his retort as to the reference to him as 'Uncle Marcho.' Ever since she had met him that morning she had insisted on calling him thus. He found that he did not mind it overmuch, and the girl had a way of saying it that charmed him.

"I know it isn't ladylike," said she, "but I couldn't possibly be called anything else. Donna I could not be called because it isn't me. I suppose if I consented to any other name besides Don it would have to be Mira but I would not wish that name either. I am Don," she finished, "and Don is me."

Marcho did not insist upon carrying the subject on. Let the girl call herself whatever she liked as long as she hurried. He made a gesture for her to move faster and she lifted her skirts the littlest bit to give her legs more freedom. "It is," she said, "improper for a girl to lift her skirts any farther than this. When I was little - " as if she was not now, was Marcho's thought " - I used to hitch my skirts up over my knees so I could run about with the boys. But my Aunt Mirabella told me it was most indecent. When I was little I did not care for her at all, but now that I am older I realize that while she is a sour old hobbit lady and very fat at that, she does know how a young hobbit girl should behave."

All through the day Marcho had noticed that the girl, despite her best efforts at being ladylike, had shown that she had a streak of impertinence in her. The things she had said about people and to people at times were not respectful. She spoke viciously about Aunt Malva and said very rude thing to that prominent old hobbit lady, and Marcho was surpised at times. The girl seemed to contradict herself. He could not know, of course, that it was a fault she had been struggling with for a year or more now. She realized it was not good to be impertinent and she tried not to be, but she found it difficult.

The Green Dragon was in sight now. Marcho breathed a sigh of relief but the hobbit girl's rosy cheeks paled and her large eyes filled with wistful longing, and she spoke in a voice Marcho could not here one name. "Rie," she said.

The Common Room was as bright and cheerful as it had ever been, and breakfast was being finished. To Don it seemed a dream. The person of Talmérië had become a ghost in the mist to her with all her practices at being ladylike, but now the red-headed woman came clearly to her again as the sights and smell of the Common Room filled her young eyes and nostrils. She remembered finding out that Talmérië had been much like her... a twin, with a large family, and now was far from home and had no one. The only difference had ever been that Rie had left of her own accord and Don had been pulled by force from her family. She remembered the first time Rie had called her darling, though it had been to tease her and aggravate her. It was a fond memory. She remembered when Rie had apologized to her for hurting her feelings, though had insisted angrily that her feelings had not been hurt. She remembered when Rie had hid her from her angry aunt who had been searching for her. She remembered when Rie had told her she was beautiful. She remembered introducing Rie to Bilbo Baggins...

A smile twitched on her face one moment, and the next peals of merry laughter were falling from her lips. Marcho started but did not stop her. The Common Room was already full of laughter and no one would notice; besides it would not do to become too much like Posco. Don was remembering in merriment how she, Donnamira, had met Frodo Baggins and what she had said to him. And then she sobered and dwelt on remembering his face. Gracious he had been, in a manner that suited Elves more than Hobbits, and he had been kindly as well. He had spoken to her in a friendly way and had treated all those about as if there were lords and ladies rather than simple Hobbits. Don had not known what to call his manner in those olden days, but she had heard Bingo Cotton speak a new word only that morning and she knew it was what Frodo Baggins was. Frodo Baggins was noble. She wished she knew where he was now. She felt she should like to see him again. And she missed Bilbo. Where had he gone?

Marcho once again held back impatience. Don was trying to pull away from him now, saying something vague about going into the kitchen. He gripped her hand firmly yet without hurting her. What business did she think she had in the kitchen? As far as he knew patrons of the Inn were preferred not to bother the staff by going into the kitchen. The girl was pulling, insisting, and giving way with reluctance. And now she was complaining of being hungry. Really, it was terribly difficult to watch children. It would be good when Peony arrived; she would surely not mind watching after the girl. Bingo wouldn't mind, either, but he had stayed behind to wait for Peony's arrival and then escort her to the Inn. Good of him, but he was needed most here.

"Sit down, Donnamira, and I'll get you something to eat," Marcho said, and she obeyed with a little huffy sigh. Blanco would arrive soon, looking glum that his twin was off alone with Lily, and then Bingo would arrive with Peony. What a mercy that would be! Peony wouldn't mind watching the little girl at all. Yet still it was a long wait. Marcho went to the counter to order the little hobbit girl some breakfast.

Kitanna

08-05-2004, 01:12 PM

Deva woke up with the sun shining through the window. He knew it was time to get up and that no matter how he tried sleep would not return. The dwarf gathered his things and Peony's and brought them down to the common room.

Peony was sitting alone at a table in the corner. Deva figured he'd have some breakfast and then they could head off.

"Are you ready to leave soon?" He asked sitting across from his friend.

Peony nodded and smiled. "Though the Shire is a lovely and peaceful place, I feel it is time for me to return home. But I do hope to return here."

Deva ate a light breakfast, at least light to him. Once he had finished the two headed out to the stables to get Surefoot. The mare was waiting for her master and Deva. Peony sadled the horse and helped Deva up. Then they took their leave of the inn.

Vitto

08-05-2004, 06:28 PM

The ranger was listening to the elf maiden, Gwenneth. He was so intently listening to her that he hadn't noticed the man who just arrived. It was only when the stranger was striding towards their table that Mulawin realized his arrival.

His eyes widening in pleasant surprise, he stood and greeted his friend.

"Thanatos! I wasn't expecting you until perhaps late in the afternoon!"

His friend answered, his blue eyes showing his amusement, "I'm glad that you accepted my invitation to venture out to the Shire. I thought I would never get you out of the woods!"

Mulawin laughed at that, "Thank the Valars peace reigns the lands! I have been too long away from friends and family."

He realized Gwenneth was smiling politely at them. Turning to Thanatos to introduce the elf maiden, he caught the twinkle in his friend's eyes. The all too familiar slightly raised brow. He knew Thana would pester him to no end later.

"Thanatos, this is Lady Gwenneth of Grey Havens," Mulawin said, still grinning,"My Lady, this is my friend, who is more of a brother and mentor, Thanatos."

Thanatos smiled, bowing politely in greeting to the elf maiden. Mulawin then said, " Have you broken your fast?"

That was when Rosa came carrying the meal Thanatos had ordered to the table. They all sat down after the greetings and continued with their morning meal.

Maikaalph

08-06-2004, 07:56 AM

Fain sat at a table in the back of the inn thinking. "What's taking Maikaalph so long. He's been gone for days."

"Excuse me, Master Dwarf." a small voice behind him said.

Fain turned to find a few Hobbit children there. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

"The Elf, umm, I think he said his name is Maikaalph, how did you and him become such good friends."

"Ohh!" Fain chuckled you want to know the story do ya. Well sit on down and I'll tell you." A group of others came as well intereseted in this strong friendship between Elf and Dwarf. "It was about ten years ago. I was lost in the Misty Mountains, and I happened to come upon a door. The door into Moria. I entered the Mines of Moria not thinking of the danger that might have lurked in the shadows. Little did I know that I was being followed. I entered the Tomb of Balin, and there I became trapped for a large group of orcs had come after me. I killed a few and then realized it was hopeless. Then when all hope seemed lost. An arrow whizzed by me and hit the nearest orc. Then another, and another. The orcs fell as arrows killed them. I turned to find an Elf there...

Fain's story was cut short for at that moment Maikaalph stumbled through the door, bloody, bruised, and covered in dust. "What have I unleashed upon the world?" He muttered before collapsing to the floor.

piosenniel

08-06-2004, 10:00 AM

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Notice of New RPG Opening ~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Regin Hardhammer invites you to play in his game:

Hunt for the Palantíri (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=10988)

The Discussion thread for the RPG is now open to take on players.

See you there!

Envinyatar

08-06-2004, 06:09 PM

The repairs to the old caretaker’s cottage at the edge of the Inn property were moving along at a rapid pace. It was the roof for the most part that was in need of patching and mending. The interior itself was in good shape – just wanting a coat of fresh paint and the shooing out of several swallows and an owl that had take up residence in the rafters.

Derufin had gone up to the roof to patch the southern section. The sub roofing was still in good shape, but many shingles and been blown off, and the planks that held them needed a good coating of pitch and tar to seal the cracks where there edges abutted. He set to with a will and took off a number of shingles around the damaged area then began mopping on the sealant.

The four Hobbit lads had plans of their own along the southern wall of the cottage. And soon he could hear them banging with sledges on the interior wall, in the room beneath his feet. Derufin crept to the edge of the roof and lying down on his stomach saw a plaster-dusted hobbit issue out through a hole in the wall. ‘Oy!’ he shouted down to the lad, who was ripping out large sections of wall planking with his crowbar. ‘That was a perfectly good wall! Why have you knocked a hole in it?’

The Hobbit, Tomlin, squinted up at the man, and pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. ‘Right here on the plans,’ he said pointing to the drawings on the paper. ‘Got to come out if we’re to build another room.’ Tomlin motioned for one of his mates to come out and look at the size of the opening.

‘What plans? And what room?’ yelled down Derufin, as the other Hobbit, Fallon, shook his head ‘no’ indicating with his hands that the hole needed to be wider. Tomlin held up his hand, signaling to Derufin to wait a moment while he and Fallon conferred. When Fallon had disappeared inside, Tomlin cocked his head up at Derufin and grinned.

‘Cook’s plan’s, Derufin,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders as if the man should have known. ‘The old cottage has only one bedroom, you see.’

‘No, I don’t quite see,’ growled Derufin, frowning as another section of the wall came tumbling. ‘Mind you don’t knock down the structure supports,’ he called down in alarm towards the enlarging hole.’

‘Oh, they’ll be careful. They’ve done this afore for the as prefers to live in wooden dwellings.’ Tomlin stepped back as Fallon came out for another look. Hands on hips the two of them looked smugly toward their handiwork and called out the other two workers, Gil and Ferrin. ‘Right, then, lads! We’ll just start the clearing away and begin the framing.’

The sound of a sweet voice came round the edge of the cottage, accompanied by the tempting smells of fresh baked scones and a flagon of fresh brewed sweet-tea. ‘Cook’s sent a snack to hold you til breakfast,’ said Buttercup, eyeing the lads who had gathered round her like bees to a flower. ‘Now wash up a bit and help me unload the baskets. The Hobbits fell all over themselves in their rush to be the first back to assist her.

Derufin shook his head, and couldn’t help laughing at the calf-eyed fellows. He climbed over the roof to the ladder on the other side and clambered down. He was thirsty, himself, and could do with a mug of tea. Zimzi was there, smiling, as he reached the ground. ‘I’ve escaped “The List” for a few moments,’ she laughed, telling him how Cook had drawn up a great list of things to be done and was slowly working the staff and herself through it. ‘Come,’ she said, taking his hand, ‘Let’s get you a mug of tea and a scone before the Hobbits eat them all.’

Once the mugs were filled and the scones handed round, Buttercup smiled prettily at the workers and said she must be off. There were groans of disappointment and calls of ‘Can’t you stay a bit?’ But she was firm, saying there were things to be done back at the Inn – Ruby would brings them out lunch – then she would expect them washed and ready for dinner back in the Common Room in the early evening. ‘Serve you myself,’ she promised, taking Zimzi in hand and urging her back to the Inn.

The men, all five of them, looked wistfully after the women as they disappeared across the grounds. ‘Well, then – back to it, lads!’ shouted Tomlin. The sooner started, the sooner done.’ Fallon, Gil, and Ferrin began unloading the lumber from the wagon along with sawhorses and saws.

Derufin started back toward the ladder, then paused. ‘About my last question – the one about the room – you didn’t answer what it was for. Gil and Ferrin, came near, bearing the ends of a long piece of planking on their broad shoulders. They raised their brows at Tomlin on hearing the man’s question, then started chuckling. Tomlin scratched his head, and peered up at Derufin as if the man had gone quite dense. ‘It’s for the wee ones, of course,’ he said, speaking slowly in case the heat of mid-morning had dulled Derufin’s brain. ‘You’re to be wed, or so we’ve been told . . . and to that lovely creature who came with our own Buttercup just now.’ Tomlin picked up a piece of chalk and a string for measuring the lengths to be cut. ‘There’ll be plenty of little ones for Cook to fuss over . . . she’s told us so. And so we’re making the room for them – all nice and sunny, here on the south . . .’

Eiz

08-06-2004, 07:08 PM

As he broke a piece of bread, Thanatos stole a glance at the elf maiden. He smiled inwardly as he looked at his friend fondly. Mulawin had grown from that young lad who trailed behind him never tiring of stories of the wilds. He considered the young man more of a younger brother than a friend.

Mulawin was saying "Thanatos has been with the rangers longer than I. He's been to places I have not reached yet. Even far down to the borders of the Harad."

"The Haradrim are a fierce people. They've often invaded Gondor's territories. The Haradrim were one of the fiercest allies of the Enemy. Its a blessing that King Elessar now rules- its been a while since Gondor had a king."

Thanatos sat back, a far away look on his face.

"Thana, you've been to Rohan. Were you able to see the Mearas?"asked Mulawin.

"Aye indeed. And magnificent is an understatement to describe them!"

He smiled at Gwenneth. "Do you ride, my Lady?"

starkat

08-06-2004, 08:49 PM

Gwenneth watched as Mulawin greeted his friend. She smiled at him when he bowed. When Rose came by to take Thanatos’ order, the elf maid asked for a refill of her tea. She returned to eating and did not notice Thanatos glance at her. Gwenneth was brought to attention when she heard Mulawin say that Thanatos had traveled far in Middle Earth. She listened to his description of Harad.

When the two rangers began speaking about Rohan, she hid a smile. Thanatos spoke of seeing the Mearas. He asked her about riding and Gwenneth returned his smile.

“I enjoy riding tremendously. My mare, Elenath is from Rohan. My father gave her to me a couple of years ago. I got interested in horse training when I was younger and my parents always had a difficult time getting me out of the barn.”

Gwenneth began speaking about some of the horses that she had trained. Her brothers had both gotten horses and asked her to train them. Getting involved in her topic, the elf maid spoke of the days she spent training horses. Finally she began speaking about her mare.

“My father brought her back from Rohan along with two other horses. I went out to the pasture where they were and walked into the midst of them. The other two paid little attention to me. Elenath followed my every movement and after a few moments she came to me. I guess you could say that we chose each other.”

Realizing that she had been talking for several minutes, Gwenneth flushed with embarrassment. “Goheno nin. Forgive me for monopolizing the conversation.” She turned to Thanatos, “The Mearas. Did you ever see Shadowfax? Please tell me something of Rohan. I hope to travel there one day.”

piosenniel

08-07-2004, 12:53 PM

‘Who are all these ladies?’ Zimzi whispered her question to Buttercup as they entered the kitchen through the back door. Gathered about Cook were fourteen or perhaps it was fifteen young ladies, all looking like freshly picked flowers in their bright yellows and greens and reds and blues. And every one of them had a freshly pressed apron pinned on along with a bright scarf to tie back their curls.

‘Miz Bunce has called upon their mama’s for help in getting the Inn in order for the arrival of your family and the hand-fasting. Most of them will be helping with the cleaning of rooms and the polishing of the best silver. The fancy linen tablecloths and napkins will all be washed and ironed. And at the end of the week they’ll be the ones to weave the festoons of evergreens and gather the flowers for the arrangements from the garden.’ She nudged Zimzi’s attention toward the group of four older ladies who stood apart from the group, looking on. ‘And those over there will assist cook with the making of the meal . . . Miz Bunce, of course will put the cake together herself . . .’

‘So much work! It’s wonderful! Their generosity leaves me speechless.’ Zimzi beamed at the group and at Cook.

‘Well,’ said Buttercup, ‘Cook is quite fond of Mister Derufin . . . and of you, too. And the lasses are more than willing to help, if truth be told. Tomorrow, many of the single lads will come in to help with the hauling in of the supplies that Cook has ordered and to get the yard in order for the grand party afterwards. There’ll be much eyeing of one another as the week progresses and comments traded in a flirty manner. And by the time the party and the dance is here, there’ll be pairs of dancers ready for it, if you catch my meaning.’ Buttercup nodded her head sagely. ‘Yes . . . I would bet, despite the lasses’ ages, their mothers all saw to their dresses and aprons and scarves for the head before they left the burrows. And all are hoping that in a year or perhaps less, they will be calling on other goodwives of the town to assist in their daughter’s wedding . . .’ Buttercup grinned up at Zimzi. ‘There’s far more to the whole thing than just you and Mister Derufin, you see . . .’

Zimzi laughed delightedly, thinking how much the Hobbits were like the good people of her own little town. ‘Yes,’ she said, grinning back at Buttercup. ‘I do indeed see.’

Amanaduial the archer

08-07-2004, 04:25 PM

"Then you begin to see the ways of the Shire, dear Zimzi." The group in the kitchen turned to see Aman leaning in her usual position against the doorway, wearing riding gear and holding a large, serious looking wooden box tucked under. Buttercup smiled and beckoned her in before turning back to the beautiful vase of lillies in front of her, plumping them up and arranging delicately the wide, snowy bells of their blooms.

Zimzi cocked her head onto one side as Aman approached, her smile questioning. "Where was it you left to so early this morning, hmm, Aman?" she asked curiously. The Innkeeper merely smiled mysteriously at her and winked, then laid the large box flat on the table, turning to Buttercup. "Where is Cook?"

"Cook? Why, I'm not entirely sure...she went back out a while ago to talk to some more of the goodwives about..." she trailed off, waving a hand vaguely, her eyes staring into midair, then looked back at Aman. "Would you like me to call her?"

"No!" Aman started suddenly, hands up in front of her, eyes wide, before she gathered herself. "I mean...well, I don't want to bother her, you know, not when all is so busy and..." now it was the Innkeeper's turn to trail off. Buttercup raised an eyebrow and let her eyes flicker down to Aman's garb. The Rohirrim woman grinned ruefully, brushing her windswept hair back with a gloved hand and nodded. "Exactly. Cook has never really...approved of my riding clothes," she said carefully.

Ruby chuckled, shaking her head. "'Never trust a woman wearing leather', that's what she's always said," she laughed, reaching for the wooden box and opening it to reveal about a score and a half of fine, rusty red apples nestled neatly and tightly in straw nests. Smiling approvingly, she murmured something about alerting Miss Bunce and bustled off.

Zimzi stood back, arms crossed, looking skeptical. "Much as I like apples, Aman...do you mean to tell me that you have been riding since the crack of dawn merely to get some?"

Aman wagged a finger at her in mock sternness. "Ah, do not underestimate the value of a good harvest of apples, Zimzi!" She grinned teasingly then shook her head. "Alright, so maybe that wasn't exactly what I was riding for... Come, help me escape Cook before she sees me wearing my riding clothes!" She leant forward and took Zimzi's hand firmly, leading her furtively out of the kitchen. Looking back, she rolled her eyes at the other woman. "Never trust a woman in leather indeed! Come, Zimzi, I need to show you something."

As Aman led the other through the Common Room briskly, Zimzi paused, pulling back slightly although she seemed quite happy to go along with it - after all, she had been simply going along with other people's plans all morning. "Aman, you are being rather mysterious this morning, and that's saying something as you've only been here for five minutes. What is this about now?"

Aman flashed a smile back at her as they reached the bottom of the stairs, letting go of the other's hand. "A gift," she replied softly.

Zimzi hesitated at the word, her brow crinkling slightly. "A gi-...Aman, I'm not sure...I mean, before the handfasting..."

Aman shook her head impatiently. "No, no, this is...well, it is a gift more to you than to Derufin. It is not my single gift for the handfasting, of course, but is something...special..." she stopped, looking at Zimzi with troubled eyes before she clapped her hands worriedly. "Oh, come on, Zimzi, please - Miss Bunce will skin me alive!"

~*~

Zimzi having gone along with the Innkeeper's plan, Aman led her up the stairs to her own room, but when they reached their destination, she stopped the other before she went in. Biting her lip like a child about to give another her Christmas present, she beamed and bid Zimzi close her eyes. The woman looked at her incredulously, but she begged her to do so. Eventually, the other did so and Aman darted into her room.

Crossing the sparsely furnished room briskly, she stopped at the foot of her bed, where a large, deep chest sat: Aman's treasure chest. Beaming to herself, Aman knelt in front of the chest and opened it carefully. Reaching in, past the various pieces of paraphenalia which were scattered over the dark wood, the drew out a slightly battered cardboard box, about a foot long and several inches deep. She paused over it, her fingers lingering above it, before she leapt up and walked back to the door, opening it and leading in her victim. In the quiet of the room, she took of the lid of the box and guided Zimzi's fingers onto the object that laid within.

Zimzi's brow furrowed as she ran her fingers over the surface, attempting to work out what it was, before her eyes suddenly opened wide in surprise as she worked it out. Carefully and slowly, she pulled it out, standing to behold Aman's gift in it's full glory: a beautiful ivory white dress, the material soft and smooth, as finely made as any material anywhere in Middle Earth. The curved v-neck was adorned with a simple, delicate pattern of mallorn leaves, matching the pattern at the end of the wide, sloping sleeves which ended at the elbow, with the long undersleeves a slightly darker shade of dove grey. The fitted bodice gave way to a flowing, unconstricting skirt, which seemed about the right length for Zimzi.

Zimzi looked up at Aman in shock, holding the dress out from her by the shoulders, speechless. The Innkeeper smiled bashfully, and shrugged a little, looking away. "I found it among the clothes in the attic, and it seemed somewhat finer than the others. I couldn't have worn it myself - it's a little too long, see, about your length, and once I consulted a few of the hobbit goodwives, gave it a spruce up, you know, embelished the leaf patterns a little..." she trailed off, her green eyes meeting Zimzi's deep brown ones again, anxiously.

"Aman, I-" Zimzi stopped, her eyes fixed on the dress, before she turned it to hold it up to herself, measuring the length.

"It cleaned up well, and what with the light colour, and the season, and the joyfullness of the event - well, it seemed suitable, you see," Aman gushed on awkwardly, admiring the dress with her head on one side as she stepped forward nervously, taking one of the sleeves in her hands, the dark leather of her gloves a stark contrast against the soft, light material as she swung it slightly, fidgeting. "It is a fine dress, no mistake - but you don't have to wear it if you don't want to, of course, it was merely an idea, you know, a thought that-"

"Aman..."

Zimzi's voice halted Aman's onslaught and she looked back at Zimzi, biting her lip nervously. "Do you like it?" she said nervously.

Zimzi didn't reply immediately, simply laughed and came forward to embrace Aman tightly, the dress held between them. Aman returned the embrace gladly, giving a great, contented sigh of relief as they parted. Zimzi studied the dress again, running an eye over the detail and finery embedded in the elegant, simple design. Her brow crumpled slightly suddenly and Aman felt her pulse almost stop at the sight. She nodded towards the neckline of the dress and Aman scurried around to see what it was that she was looking at.

"What is that?"

Aman peered closely with her keen eyes to see what Zimzi meant, then saw the tiny, perfectly embroidered runes she referred to: two words, one on either side, each no bigger than the width of a little fingernail. She took a moment to work it out, then realisation dawned and she smiled shyly. "It's elvish..." she murmured.

"What does it say?" Zimzi was bursting with impatience and Aman stole a quick glance back at her teasingly, then grinned. "It simply says 'melde' - love, or beloved."

Zimzi looked back at Aman, then laughed delightedly, swirling around with the dress pressed against her. Aman watched, a small smile on her face as the other woman came to face her. She nodded, satisfied. "I wasn't sure what it would be like," she said, softly. "Wasn't sure whether the light colour would look well against your dark skin..." she trailed off, looking back at Zimzi and nodding slowly. "But I see that you match it just as you match Derufin: each complimenting each other, matching, counterparts...in short, perfect." She smiled widely, putting her hands on Zimzi's shoulders as her hands were full. "You and he deserve so much happiness - I am glad you have found it together."

She sighed, seeming to come out of her reverie. Opening the door, she jerked her head towards it. "Come - I need to change my clothes, and downstairs Buttercup will be wondering where you have got to."

Zimzi nodded, carefully folding over the dress as she came to the doorway. Pausing, the looked down at Aman and smiled again. "Thank you," she murmured, then left.

piosenniel

08-08-2004, 02:23 AM

Buttercup had come up the stairs to the top room on the right, thinking to lend a hand to Zimzi. They were in the midst of cleaning the small pair of rooms just below the attic, in anticipation of the arrival of Zimzi’s parents. The Hobbit called out her name as she came to the landing, but heard no answer in return. Creeping to the doorway, she stood watching quietly as the woman looked at herself in the silvered mirror that hung above her dresser.

Zimzi had slipped on the dress that Aman had given her as soon as she’d gone to her room. The hem of it brushed the ground as she turned this way and that, the skirt twirling about her legs like a soft cloud of white appleblossoms.

‘Oh, that’s beautiful!’

Buttercup grinned as she wiped her hands on her apron and picked up the hem of the dress in the back. ‘Let me bear your train, m’Lady!’ Zimzi swirled about, laughing; Buttercup following in her wake.

‘I say,’ came the booming voice from the landing just outside the door. ‘What are you two doing up here?’ Cook’s eye caught the broom and dustpan leaning against the stair banister, and the mop sitting unused in its pail of soapy water in the corner. The sound of giggling met her as she neared the door to Zimzi’s room. And two grinning faces, stacked one above the other peered round the door frame.

Buttercup slipped behind Zimzi and pushed her out onto the landing. The woman came to a stop just outside the door, her cheeks reddening as Cook looked her over. The Hobbit peeked around Zimzi, whispering. ‘Doesn’t she look pretty! Miz Aman gave her the dress, she told me. Just today!’

An odd sound came from Cook, a quavery sort of ‘Oh, my!’ her eyes seemed a bit misty as she signaled for Zimzi to turn about. ‘Let me see the back, dear.’ There was silence as Zimzi twirled slowly, coming back at last to face Miz Bunce. ‘Lovely! Just lovely!’ She smiled up at Zimzi. ‘Miz Aman, you say. Well, I’ll be. Isn’t she a wonder!’ ‘And that despite her bent for those leather riding clothes,’ she muttered under her breath.

Cook shook her head, changing the mood as she pushed Zimzi back toward her room. ‘Enough of being stargazey, ladies! There’s work to be done.’ She fingered the soft material of the dress, her expression softening as she did so.’ With a sigh she pointed to the broom and mop. ‘The sooner the tasks are finished, the closer the day for wearing this will be.’ She turned back toward the steps, calling out over her shoulder as she started down them.

‘When you two are finished you can come down and help me with the apple tart. Someone’s left me a nice box of them . . . winesaps, I think. The fellows working on the cottage will be coming in for supper this evening. I was thinking a tart and custard would be nice for them . . . and ham, I think, with taters and some of those nice snap beans from the garden . . .’

Her voice trailed off as she turned down the next section of the stairs. Zimzi hurried out of her dress and hung it in the closet, a small bouquet of fragrant lavender dangling down from the hanger on a thin ribbon. Her every-day dress back on, she tied a scarf about her hair, and took the broom that Buttercup handed her. ‘You sweep,’ the Hobbit said, squishing the mop up and down in the sudsy water of the bucket. ‘I’ll follow after with the mop.’ She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out two small apples. ‘Not all of them need go in the tart,’ she said winking at Zimzi, as she threw one to her.

The swish and slosh of broom and mop were punctuated by the crunchy sounds of teeth meeting the crisp flesh of the sweet-tart apples . . .

Saurreg

08-09-2004, 04:33 AM

The Silvan swung open the oaken door of the tavern and stepped in the soothing embrace of warm dry air. The establishment was crowded with members of various races and came in different shapes and sizes. All were engaged in merry banther and feasting. The aroma of fresh confectionery, scent of strong steaming beverages and musky odor of tobacco smoke lingered invitingly in the air. Ascasir Culcollo smiled wiry to himself and made his way towards the bar through occupied tables and chairs.

Ascasir sat himself on a bar stool, removed the hood of his dark grey travellers cloak and called out aloud,

"Innkeeper! I say innkeeper! Would you be so kind as to provide this wayfarer some simple sustenance so that he might be able to break his fast?"

Aniriuq Raevla

08-09-2004, 03:44 PM

Anja finished her breakfast and ordered some tea. She stuck her hand into her pack and began to search for something. Where is it....

"Aha!" She pulled out a small book. Its blue cover was stained at the corners,and was falling off. She ran her fingers gently up and down the spine,smiling. It was a childrens' story book,the first book she had ever read. Her father had given it to her at the age of five,and had taught her how to read. She still took it out at times,when she was bored,and just stared at it,bringing back long lost memories....

The maid brought her the tea,and she began to drink it,laying the book on the table and letting her eyes wander around the room. A drwaf was sitting at a table,telling some story to a group of hobbit children. The elf maiden and the man had been joined by another,and they were chatting casually. She turned back to her table to see that her tea was almost finished. It would be time for her to leave soon,but not before she had read a couple of pages out of her book.

Amanaduial the archer

08-09-2004, 05:01 PM

Inside her study, near the bar, Aman visibly jumped at the sound of the brash voice through the half open door, turning guiltily. Taking a deep breath and steadying herself like a guilty child. Half running to the door, Aman called through the door curtly. "One moment please, sir!"

Not waiting for the elf's response - he had sort of started about, looking for the whereabouts of the Innkeeper's mysteriously disembodied voice - she ran back over to her desk, fist tightly locked over the item in her hand. Pulling open the top drawer of her dark, oak desk, she uncurled her fingers, and the item in her palm dropped down from them, entwined on her forefinger and middle finger. As it twisted down from her fingers, swaying from her fingers, the light from her wide, study window caught the silver and the object glinted suddenly in the sun. Aman smiled, the silver gleaming in her green eyes, then came to at the sudden sound of laughter from the Common Room. Carefully depositing the object in the drawer, she closed it and proceeded back into the Common Room.

Smoothing her newly donned dress, she crossed to the bar behind the newcomer, an elf, new to the Inn. "Good day, sir - what can I get you?"

The elf looked slightly startled to see that the Innkeeper was female, and Aman smiled as she ducked under the bar and waited.

Saurreg

08-09-2004, 10:15 PM

Ascasir was mildly surprised that the innkeeper was a female - and a beautiful one at that, with sparkling green eyes. Regaining his composure, he grinned at the young maiden and inquired eagerly,

"Did I do it right? Was that the way to act and say in mannish taverns? Loud and imposing, no?"

Sensing that the alluring atani was puzzled, Ascasir hastily continued in his clear but noticeably excited voice,

"Forgive me if I was wrong, for that was what the men of Ithilien taught me during my brief stay there. They said that was the way to act to be served. I even used the exact worlds!"

Ascasir beamed proudly whilst leaning fowards, staring at the innkeeper.

Such lovely green eyes...

Amanaduial the archer

08-10-2004, 06:24 AM

Aman wrinkled her nose as she smiled, laughing at the elf's strange, small delight - a member of the race of Ancients, delighted over such a childish thing.

"May I say, sir, that you are lucky that you chanced upon an Innkeeper less, shall we say, volatile than others you might find. Besides, this is hardly a 'mannish' Inn," she laughed. The elf looked slightly confused, but didn't seem to mind, simply smiling and watching her with a half smile on her pale features. Slightly embarassed by his intent gaze, Aman looked away bashfully, a wave of brown hair falling over the side of her face as she fiddled with something beneath the bar.

"Ehm...anyway," she stammered, looking up again. There was something about the unblinking, unwavering examination of those sparkling grey eyes that made her a little nervous although she wasn't sure why. Looking directly back at the elf, she regained her composure. "You wished for some refreshments, sir? What can I get you?"

Saurreg

08-10-2004, 07:22 AM

Ascasir was confused and disappointed; the maiden's response was not what he had imagined it to be. Violatile, what did she meant by that? She did not seem to be displeased and her warm voice had a tingle of kindness and playfulness in it, but why did she claim that the establishment was not a "mannish" inn? Was she not of the second-born? Westron was proving to be a peculiar tongue. And curses to those Gondorians - Ascasir was sure he would have a word or two with them should he ever head back east.

Realizing that his stare was starting to discomfort the innkeeper, Ascasir drew back abruptly, looking sheepish.

"Ehm...anyway, you wished for some refreshments, sir? What can I get you?" asked the innkeeper coolly in a professional tone,

Anger? Indignation? Disgust? Ascasir was confused and a little worried. Did the maiden really intend to serve him, or was that another bout of those westron word plays?

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Ascasir leapt off the stood and drew himself to his full height before bowing his head curtly, allowing dark locks to fall forward masking his face,

"Forgive me dear lady if my manners have been... lacking and thank you for... being not so... so violatile. I meant no insult and did not know that my words were... displeasing. I am not proficient in the tongue of man and my limited exposure outside the wood realm of Eryn Lasgalen helps not. Forgive and yes, I would like some... refreshments. Something simple would do. Thank you very much!"

Amanaduial the archer

08-10-2004, 11:49 AM

Aman watched the elf's retreating back, stunned. Certainly she had offended him, but how? Puzzled and horrified at causing such effident offence, she darted into the kitchen and called out to Ruby to make something fine.

"Fine? What do you mean by that?" Came the hobbit's bemused reply.

"Use your imagination!" Aman replied frantically, her head vanishing, then reappearing as she added, "Some of that steak, you know, from last night - steak and vegetables!"

"What, just- hey, Aman!" But the Innkeeper was gone, retreating back into the Common Room, ignoring Buttercup's laughter and Ruby's indignant cry. Smoothing her skirt down habitually, Aman walked as briskly as she could across the room without causing any disturbance or attracting unnecessary attention. She could just see it in the minds and gossip of the old hobbit women who sat in one corner of the room, near to the fire, radiating disapproval and watching everything over the rims of their cider glasses. Ooh, there she goes again, chasing yet another one - another man. And this one another elf as well...They all fall into her clutches, then she drives them away...strumpet...

Coming up behind the elf where he had sat down, his back to the bar, she touched his shoulder gently. He turned, and almost leapt out of his seat as he saw that it was Aman, nearly knocking over the chair as he desperately avoided her eyes, looking to the left and down, as if something on the far side of the room was desperately interesting. "Ah, Lady, it..ehm...I was just taking a seat," he said gruffly, not looking at her.

Aman frowned, distressed. Motioning towards the chair, she indicated that he should sit. "Nin hir," she said softly in careful Sindarin. My Lord. She just hoped it was the right way to address someone: she wasn't fluent and her knowledge of elven courtesy was sketchy to say the least. The elf looked surprised and sat down, eyebrows raised. Aman perched lightly on the other chair at the table.

"Le pedo Sindarin?" he replied, his voice questioning and his smile slightly suspicious. You speak Sindarin?

Aman wrinkled her nose again, holding her forefinger and thumb up, seperated by about an inch of air. "Tithen, tithen," she admitted, grinning. A little. Her elvish finally failing, she reverted to the Common Tongue. "The last Innkeeper here was a half-elf - she is a good friend of mine, I picked up some from her and others."

The elf nodded slowly, eyeing Aman but this time not with that intent, fierce gaze, but not with the suspicion of a few minutes ago either. Ruby appeared at his side and he nearly jumped as she cleared her throat. "Steak and veg?" she asked politely. The elf blinked and glanced at Aman, who nodded. "Yours, sir."

Ruby placed the plate in front of the elf, and Aman began to make amends, this time in Westron. "Sir, I offended you - I apologise for that, I did not mean to. How...?" she couldn't help wondering why he had taken offense, but left the question hanging in case he did not want to reply.

The elf paused for a moment, his fork suspended over the steaming meal, his grey eyes watching the Innkeeper steadily as if to certify that she was not mocking him. "You said it was not a mannish Inn - yet you are one of the Second B- you are a Woman," he ammended quickly.

Aman nodded, realisation dawning. "Ah, I see. My mistake, sir: what I meant was, well - though many Men pass through - some staying, like myself - this remains the land of the Perian - the hobbits. Certainly that is all I meant..." She trailed off and stood, holding out a hand.

"To start again on a new leaf, my name is Aman, and I am the Innkeeper here," she said, looking straight at the elf, and hoping she had not offended him so much that he would not take her hand and introduce himself.

Primrose Bolger

08-10-2004, 02:45 PM

A small whirlwind of dust moved up the dirt path from the road, whirring toward the Inn. From the midst of it came a chiding voice. ‘You should never have stopped to cool your feet in the stream, Ginger Gamwich! Oh! What will Mother say? And you so late!’ The whir came to a halt, the dust settled, just outside the back kitchen door.

A Hobbit lass in robin’s-egg blue stood smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt and apron in a vain effort to improve her appearance. Her face was flushed from exertion, her carrot red curls askew from the run. She dipped her hands quickly beneath the pump spout in the kitchen’s yard and flapped them hastily in the air to dry them.

‘That’s about as good as can be done for now,’ she sighed to herself. With a less than firm resolve she pulled open the screened door to the kitchen and went in. Standing nervously on the flagstone floor, she called out into the seemingly empty room. A large pot of soup was on the hob, cooking for lunch she supposed. And lined up along the counter were the day’s loaves of bread ready to be called into service. The door to the cellar, she noted, was open, and she could hear someone rustling about down the stairs.

‘Miz Bunce,’ she called out, hoping someone would hear her. ‘It’s Ginger Gamwich. Me mum’s sent me to help. Anyone here?’

piosenniel

08-10-2004, 03:25 PM

~*~ NOTICE OF NEW RPG OPENING ~*~

Crystal Heart invites you to play in her new game:

Seekers of Truth (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=11037)

The Discussion Thread for this game will open to take on characters on 8/15.

Until then, read the proposal carefully and craft an interesting character with a First Post to submit for the game owner’s approval when the thread opens.

See you then!

~*~ Piosenniel

Saurreg

08-11-2004, 08:48 AM

Ascasir was perplexed. It would would seem that his hasty attempt to apologise and explain himself has been misinterpreted. Not only had he failed to convey his friendly intends to the young maiden, he seemed to have given her the impression that he was angry and offended and that somehow it was her fault.

Placing his fork down on the plate, Ascasir looked at the innkeeper in earnest. Quzzical eyebrows raised when he saw that the latter had extended her right hand towards him and was noticibly waiting in anticipation. Deducting her intentions correctly, Ascasir reached out, gently grasped the slender but sinewly strong hand and introduced himself in westron,

"I am Ascasir of Eryn Lasgalen, dear Aman. And please forgive me if my manners have been lacking for I have not much experience with men and my ability to converse in the common tongue is limited. My peers have often pointed out that I assume a stern and forbiding mien whenever I am in deep thought or confusion. Please be assured that I was never annoyed and do not think of me arrogant or petty. This I beg of you,"

Letting go off the young maiden's hand, Ascasir continued slowly,

"I was a member of the household of Lord Carahnwë - a great captain of King Thranduil's. The master has since departed these shores for the Undying Lands but before so he discharged us, his servants from our tenure of service. Many have decided to follow him yonder but a few of us decided to stay in this land, at least for alittle while longer. I am one of those.

I have spent all my life within the confines of the forest and have never ventured beyond its borders until four full moons ago when I decided to visit a dear friend who is working on the restoration of the river city of Ithilien even as we speak now. The journey south filled me with an indescribable feeling of joy and since then wanderlust took me. I have gazed upon the high walls of the white tower, crossed the roaming plains of Rochand, forded the Isen and admired the handy work of the ents at Mount Fang. Now my journey has taken me to Eriador and right into your tavern.

During my brief stay at Ithilien, I became acquainted with the men of the Steward of Gondor's household. I enjoyed their companionship and learned much of the manners of men from them, though now after this incident I will question some of these teachings,"

As Ascasir concluded, he bowed slowly in respect.

piosenniel

08-12-2004, 02:32 AM

‘Down here, dear!’ came Cook’s voice. Ginger could hear some tune being hummed in a slightly off-key manner as she walked to the head of the cellar steps and peered down into the gloom. Soon the cobwebbed curls of Vinca Bunce showed at the bottom landing, the face beneath them beaming. In one hand she held a tattered notebook, waving it triumphantly as she began to climb the steps.

Ginger had never seen Miz Bunce in quite so jolly a mood, except perhaps at the turning of the year party, when she’d tipped a few too many cups of wine punch and had several slices of Gammer Lilac’s brandied cake. But today she seemed quite steady on her feet as she advanced up the stairs.

‘I’ve found a veritable treasure, Ginger Gamwich . . . no mistaking it.’ She laid the dusty leather-bound book on the table and wiped the covers carefully with a dish towel. ‘Look here, girl,’ she said, motioning for Ginger to step nearer. ‘See here,’ she said, pointing to a faint name, neatly printed at the top of the front page. ‘Laura Grubb, it says. She’s the one that started it.’ Cook nodded her head thoughtfully. ‘Quite a good cook in her day, I heard tell from my gammer.’ Her finger moved down the long list of recipes written under Laura Grubb’s name. ‘Passed the book on to her daughter in law, Belladonna Took. She was the one married to that Bungo Baggins fellow.’

‘But there’s no name after hers and no recipes,’ remarked Ginger, who had crowded close to squint at the faded writing.

‘Sad, isn’t it,’ sighed Cook. ‘She had no daughters to pass it on to, and her son, Bilbo, never got married. I’d heard that one of the former cooks here at the Inn had gotten it as a mathom one birthday. And it’s taken me this long – but now I’ve found it!’

Cook turned the pages until she found what she was looking for. ‘Laura was well known for her tiered spice cake with sea-foam frosting . . . and all appointed with sugared violets.’ A gleam had come into Cook’s eye. No one had made such a cake since Belladonna had done so for Otho and Lobelia’s handfasting. Hers would be the first of the Fourth Age! She put the book carefully away in her locked cupboard and motioned for Ginger to follow after her.

‘First thing we’ll do,’ said Cook, striding toward the shaded flower beds, is pick a couple of bunches of violets – both, now, you hear. The lavender color and the yellow. Make sure they’re pretty, and fresh. No wilted looking ones.’ She showed Ginger where the flowers were and left her with a small basket and some snips.’

‘I’ll just start the sugar water to coat them with while you’re gathering. Bring them in once you’re done and we’ll get them set. I’ve saved a place in the cooler to store them until we place them on the cake.’

‘We?’ said Ginger, kneeling down by the little clumps of violets.

‘I hear from your mother you’ve a light hand with the batter.’ Cook nodded her head once at the lass before turning back to the kitchen. ‘You’re going to help me with the cake . . .’

Arry

08-12-2004, 03:24 PM

It wasn’t difficult to find the way to where the old cottage was being renovated. Andwise Banks stopped his small cart at the entrance to the inn path and twitched his ears this way and that. From over there to his left, a fair piece behind the inn building itself, he reckoned, there came the sound of saws and hammers pounding. And the calling out of male voice, one to another, in short clipped sentences when directions were given.

‘Let’s get on then, Turnip,’ he said gently to his donkey, who stood twitching his own ears at the sounds of other horses and donkeys in the stable yard. With a clucking sound and a firm hand on the reins, Andwise directed the cart toward the construction, much to the dismay of Turnip, who had by this time caught scent of the sweet hay left for his more fortunate brethren.

A small space of time later and the cottage came into view. Four Hobbit lads were busy with the framing of an additional room, it looked. While there on the roof, stood a man spreading pitchy tar on the roof’s base structure, and shingling atop it as he went along. Andwise pulled into the cottage yard, stopping long enough to speak with one of the Hobbit lads for a moment. Tomlin shaded his eyes as he grinned up at Andwise, then pointed up to the man on the roof.

Turnip was unharnessed and tied to a tree, in the shade. Gil, always fond of animals, put down his planer and fetched a bucket of water for the donkey. Turnip eyed him expectantly, hoping for a tasty treat to follow, but made do instead with a few kind words and a scratch between the ears. Andwise made his way to a spot near the cottage, and hailed Derufin.

‘I say! Is that you, Master Derufin?’ he hollered up in a voice loud enough to be heard above the sawing and nailing. The man looked up expectantly, shading his eyes against the sun as he peered below. ‘I’m Andwise Banks, cabinet maker. From Bywater. Miz Bunce has asked me to see to the cabinets and cupboards and doors for the cottage. Says it’s a bit of a rush, but she’s assured me I’m up for it.’ He disappeared for a few moments from the man’s view, going under the eaves to peer in through a window.

‘Fair amount of work to be done. But my son’ll be here this afternoon,’ he said stepping back out to give his assessment of the job. ‘We’ll pull off the cabinet doors and drawer facings for the chests of drawers. Sand ‘em down, I expect is all they’ll need then a staining and a polishing.’ He looked at the window casings. ‘We’ll sand down the window casings – you’ll need to get them painted, though. Them and the door frames. Front door looks a bit worn – need to be replacing it, I think.’

Andwise stood nodding to himself. ‘Well, think I’ll get started. Let me know when my boy gets here – Ferdy’s his name.’ And with that he retrieved his toolbox from the back of his cart and disappeared into the cottage, whistling as he went.

piosenniel

08-13-2004, 09:24 AM

Isilmë

08-13-2004, 10:37 AM

Isilmë was wandering along the road at the morning and his mood was on top and he whistled loudly as he walked. He stopped as his keen grey eyes noticed a sign standing by the road. 'The Green Dragon Inn' he read loudly for himself, 'It sure sounds nice to me'. He started to walk towards the quite big house that the sign pointed at, as he assumed that the house would be it.

He could see through the windows that breakfast was still getting served and he got reminded of how hungry he was, since he had not eaten any breakfast that morning. He noticed that the Inn was quite crowded and many seemed very busy about eating. The cook's must be busy today, he thought and opened the door to the Inn.

He was met by a murmur of voices and a nice, tempting smell of breakfast. Some of those who sat close to the entrance stopped eating and talking and looked up at Isilmë as he entered. He greeted them with a smile and walked over to the counter that obviously was serving breakfast, as he could see carrots and piled bowls on that counter.

A hobbit lass served him a bowl with some kind of porridge that Isilmë had never seen before. He also got a piece of bread and an apple. 'There is tea here, master elf, if you would like having it after your breakfast?' the lass said and smiled. 'Thank you' Isilmë replied and bowed.

He went over to an empty table and sat down starting eating the porridge. Isilmë thought that it must have been some kind of a domestic food, however he'd like it. The bread was delicious, and after finishing his breakfast Isilmë felt a joy and a wellbeing feeling that he had not felt for many hundred years. He almost felt young again, and he wanted the feeling to stay forever.

Isilmë rose up and walked over to the counter again and the lass now gave him a cup of tea. 'Your welcome' she said and handed the cup to Isilmë. 'Thank you most kindly, my lady.' The lass seemed to blush after Isilmë's reply and he went back to his table, now sipping on his tea and just enjoying the beautiful morning.

Isilmë could see another elf standing talking to a young woman that he assumed would be the innkeeper. It was a long time ago since he'd last talked an elf, as he tried to remember it came to him that it must have been in Eryn Lasgalen. He wanted to talk someone, but couldn't see anyone that wasn't busy with something else. He continued looking for a while, still in hope of seeing someone.

Saurreg

08-13-2004, 11:21 AM

Ascasir sensed that his lengthy introduction had bored the pretty innkeeper who was now ignoring him and busying herself with petty little chores behind the bar instead. Rather than continuing to impose himself on her and feeling rather embarressed, the silvan elf resumed to consuming his meal but found the steak too rich a treat in such early hours. Ascasir's appetite waned and he took leave of Aman and wandered towards the tables and chairs, nursing a mug of delicious hot beverage whilst smiling politely at any look that came his way.

His piercing grey eyes caught sight of a newcomer in the tavern - and an elf at that. Elated by the sight of a kindred, Ascasir made his way to the lone elf's table and greeted him warmly in accented sindarin,

"Hail friend and may Elbereth keep you well! I see that you are alone and I am wondering if you would mind sharing your table with me?"

Ascasir flashed the fellow Quendi a warm smile. Placing his right hand upon the dark grey tunic above his left breast, he half-bowed to the newcomer and continued,

"Allow me to introduce myself; I am Ascasir Culcollo of Eryn Lasgalen and like you, I am also travelling alone and would most certainly enjoy any companionship,"

starkat

08-13-2004, 11:57 AM

Gwenneth had enjoyed talking to the two rangers. Her companions had busied themselves with their breakfasts and the elf maid excused herself. She walked up to the counter and asked for a refill. The tea served by the Green Dragon was wonderful and she enjoyed having a full cup while she sat and talked.

The young elf woman noticed that the elf who had arrived earlier was talking to a newcomer. She smiled as she realised that the newcomer was also an elf. As Gwenneth looked at them, she wondered where they were from.

Gwenneth fiddled with the jewel that she wore on a chain. She considered going to the stable and visiting with her horse, but decided to remain. Taking a sip of her tea, she walked over to an empty table and sat down.

Isilmë

08-14-2004, 04:50 AM

The elf that Isilmë had observed who was standing talking to the Innkeeper suddenly turned around and his gaze came to Isilmë's. The elf began to walk towards his table and stopped in front of him. Isilmë didn't know what to say and felt a little bit perplex, and he didn't know why.

'Hail friend and may Elbereth keep you well! I see that you are alone and I am wondering if you would mind sharing your table with me?' the elf started and gave him a smile. He even half-bowed to him.

'Allow me to introduce myself; I am Ascasir Culcollo of Eryn Lasgalen and like you, I am also travelling alone and would most certainly enjoy any companionship.' he continued smiling.

'Hail friend Ascasir from Eryn Lasgalen. It would be a pleasure sharing this table with you.' Isilmë said and smiled, he rose up and bowed and ans.

'I am Isilmë...' he started, 'I once was a captain of Lórien, but now it's abandoned by Lady Galadriel. I've lived in Eryn Lasgalen, but as you assumed, I am travelling alone, and a companionship whit you would be wonderful.'

'Ah, Caras Galadhon...' Ascasir replied and had dreaming look in his eyes.

'You want a cup of tea?' Isilmë asked and Ascasir nodded in reply. Isilmë rose and got Ascasir a cup and refilled his own.

'Thank you' Ascasir said when he returned. The tea was hot and they had to sip it to not burn their tounges. Isilmë watched Ascasir as he was drinking, and he felt really curious about this elf. 'So, have you always been staying in Eryn, what drove you off on the long road to get here?' he suddenly asked.

Isilmë awaited his reply.

Saurreg

08-14-2004, 05:48 AM

Ascasir was mildy surprised to hear that the newcomer was a captain of the secretive Galadhrim - foremost of the elven warriors that remained on these shores still. He had met some elves of Celeborn's Household before his travels begun and was impressed by their dignified bearing and the manner in which they conducted themselves - proud but not arrogant and calm but not aloof. Ascasir was no less impressed by the handsome Isilmë who seemed to possess a certain charisma like that of Lord Carahnwë.

'So, have you always been staying in Eryn, what drove you off on the long road to get here?' the newcomer suddenly asked.

Ascasir took a sip of the weak but favoursome brew and held Isilmë with his gaze,

"Perhaps curiosity and idle hands, friend Isilmë. I was a servant of great Carahnwë; a champion of Taur-nu-Fuin who has departed for the undying Lands and since then, I have been free without any cares or responsibilities. And the answer to the first part of your question is yes, I have never left Eryn Lasgalen before. I never intended to travel but when a dear acquaintance invited me to visit him at the great city of stone built on the Anduin, something within my bossom stirred and I could not refuse. Since then I have not looked back and my heart beats warm at the though of further experiences to be gained and new sensations to feel,"

Ascasir concluded and waited to hear what his new friend had to say. As he placed the chipped rim of the fire-dried clay mug to his lips, his eyes caught sight of a lovely elven maiden who was sitting alone at a table not far from where he and Isilmë were. The fair quendi took notice of him, and Ascasir smiled back and dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Isilmë

08-14-2004, 06:26 AM

Isilmë nodded and felt impressed as Ascasir talked. They had both been servant's but in the past few years they were free from all responsibilities.
'...Since then I have not looked back and my heart beats warm at the though of further experiences to be gained and new sensations to feel.'

'I totally agree with you, my friend.' Isilmë said and nodded.

Isilmë watched how Ascasir sipped his tea and his gaze held him. As Ascasir told him how he'd got here, he also noticed that Ascasir's gaze was drawn to another table where a young maid sat. Isilmë caught his friends gaze again and smiled, then he turned back to the maid and glanced. The maid seemed uncertain and looked down in the wooden table.

Isilmë turned back to Ascasir but noticed that he was still looking at the maid. He giggled and Ascasir turned back to him with a questioning look.

'Oh, nothing.' Isilmë answered him as the glance he got from Ascasir was saying something like; What?

'Well,' Isilmë started again and leaned over the table closer to Ascasir, 'Maybe we should invite her to our table?' His voice was almost a whisper.

'Agree' Ascasir replied.

Isilmë decided to take the initiative about inviting the young maid so he said;
'My lady' Isilmë started and rose up from his chair and bowed, 'would you like to join us here?'

Isilmë turned back to Ascasir that now smiled towards them both.

'I mean, if you want to, my Lady..?' Isilmë added and now felt a little bit dumb and pushy. Hope she won't get upset or something, he thought and blushed.

Ascasir intended to be a much more self-confident person than himself and Isilmë now hoped that he would help him out as the situation didn't look brighter when he blushed.

Ascasir now opened his mouth to say something and Isilmë quickly sat down again, he didn't know why, it was just like an instinct that he couldn't describe. Isilmë awaited him to help him out.

Saurreg

08-14-2004, 08:31 AM

Now this is unexpected, mused Ascasir to himself. Elven brows rising again.

Isilmë had stopped himself abruptly without a courteous word of leave-taking to the fair quendi and dropped himself heavily onto the chair. The goodly Galadhrim had turned his back on the confused elven maiden and was facing Ascasir again, who could see clearly that his newly-acquainted friend had mysteriously (and quite suddenly) lost his nerves. A disbelieving look was on Isilmë's face and Ascasir was sure that he was breathing alittle too quickly.

I wonder if all quendi males are having difficulties interacting with members of the fairer sex today, the Silvan wanderer thought to himself as he decided to aid Isilmë in resolving the awkward dilemma.

"If you would be so kind as to allow me, friend Isilmë," offered Ascasir.

Ascasir pushed his chair away from the table effortlessly over the lacquered wooden planks of the tavern floor, got up slowly and made his way to the lovely quendi. The closer he got, the more he was able to make out of the female elf's features.

If Aman the innkeeper was pretty, then this creation of illuvatar's was breathtakingly stunning. Ascasir had seen many other attractive elven females back at Eryn Lasgalen but none could match this sight before him. She was very slender and her simple wood-green garments clinged flatteringly over her feminine body. She was sitting but even then Ascasir could tell that she was tall, statuesque even. Her long lucious dark hair was carefully braided and thus shone brightly in the sunlight with the same lustre of black pearls, like the crystal clear waters of the Enchanted River reflecting quicksilver at night. Around her thin shapely neck, she wore a fine-wought chain that housed an emerald crystal, smartly fitted.

The elven female caught Ascasir looking at her and smiled shyly back with her bright-red lips. Bright piercing eyes met and Culcollo found himself momentarily sucking in his breath and attempting to avert her gaze. Isilmë's reason for floundering could be understood, easily understood.

Regaining his composure quickly, Ascasir stood across the elven lady's table and bowed courteously in a slow delibrate manner,

"Fair maiden whose eyes shine like black fire, Arien comes forth on this day to reward me for all my praises and prayers to Elbereth. For the sun rises today only to allow me a glimpse of you. I, Ascasir Culcollo of Eryn Lasgalen have finally seen beauty and am contented. But should I be so bold and undeserving to request that you grace the table I share with friend Isilmë with your sublime presence? I shall be more than exihilarated if you would consent to my unworthy request."

starkat

08-14-2004, 12:14 PM

From her table, Gwenneth watched as the two elves introduced themselves to each other and began talking. She watched them for a bit and then looked around at the other patrons. To her surprise, when her attention returned to the elves they were watching her.

Gwenneth looked down at the table in embaressment. She hoped that she had not offended the two Quendi. When she looked back up, they had leaned in close to each other and seemed to be whispering. When she realized that they were glancing at her, she giggled softly and waited for them to make the next move.

One of them rose and turned to her. "My lady" He started and rose up from his chair and bowed, 'would you like to join us here?"

The elf looked back at his companion and when he turned around, he seemed to become uncomfortable. Confused, Gwenneth watched as he sat back down and his friend stood up. As the second elf walked to her table, Gwenneth gave a cautious smile. I wonder what is going on. Both of them seem nice, but when they start talking they seem to get nervous. When the second elf bowed and began speaking, Gwenneth was impressed at his flowery speech.

"Fair maiden whose eyes shine like black fire, Arien comes forth on this day to reward me for all my praises and prayers to Elbereth. For the sun rises today only to allow me a glimpse of you. I, Ascasir Culcollo of Eryn Lasgalen have finally seen beauty and am contented. But should I be so bold and undeserving to request that you grace the table I share with friend Isilmë with your sublime presence? I shall be more than exihilarated if you would consent to my unworthy request."

Gwenneth had never thought much about her looks. Up until now she had spent more time with horses and learning from her brothers than worrying about how she appeared. She was surprised to learn that the reason both elves seemed nervous was because they found her pretty.

The young elf maid became nervous. Not one to beat around the bush, Gwenneth quickly made up her mind and smiled at both of the elves. "I would be honored to join you Ascasir Culcollo." She rose and walked over to their table. "Thank you Isilmë for your invitation. My name is Gwenneth. I hail from the Grey Havens."

piosenniel

08-14-2004, 02:59 PM

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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

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.

piosenniel

08-14-2004, 03:00 PM

It is nearing noon-time at the Green Dragon Inn. Second-breakfast is still being served. But the fragrant scent of lamb stew is hinting that lunch is nearly ready.

The day is proving to be a fair one so far . . . no clouds on the horizon as yet.

piosenniel

08-14-2004, 04:04 PM

Amanaduial the archer

08-14-2004, 04:51 PM

Aman eyed the elven man, Ascasir, sidelong as she pulled out a pint for one of the bar customers. Flicking her eyes across to Ruby, who was giving the bar a cursory wipe down, she murmured, "Do you think he flirts with everyone, or is there some selective, generous process here?"

Ruby looked across surreptitiously to the elf where he appeared to be making advances on a slender, dark elven woman sitting with her back to the bar. The hobbit giggled and whispered back, "Jealous."

Aman's eyebrows shot up and she gave a short laugh, finishing off the pint. "Pardon me, Ruby Brown! What would I be jealous of? And not that it is a bad thing either - he flirts quite charmingly, if a little awkwardly." Turning to the customer, a young Breelander, she smiled warmly as she pushed the pint across to him. "Here you are, sir."

"Fli-irt..." Ruby replied in a singsong voice. The Innkeeper picked up the now stationary rag and flapped it at her, frowning exaggeratedly. "Don't you start!"

"Well, it's true!"
"It isn't, as you well know."
"No, it is as I very well know."
"Is."
"It isn't"
"It i-is..."

"Ruby, I refuse to get into this with you," the Innkeeper replied abruptly, rolling her eyes. Ruby regarded her for a second, then contented herself with raising her eyebrows and settling back with an infuriatingly smug expression on her round features. Aman stuck her tongue into her cheek and refused to be riled, grinning slightly. The Common Room door opened and a few cheers made Aman look up out of curiosity. Seeing who it was, she smiled widely and pulled another pint of ale with sudden speed, darting around the bar with her precarious load to the newcomer - Halfred Whitfoot, Shirrif and postman.

"Halfred! Or is it 'Shirrif Whitfoot' for today?"

"Ah, no, just plain ole' Halfred Whitfoot today, Aman," the round faced hobbit replied, panting slightly. Producing a worn pocket hankerchief he dabbed at his red forehead and gave a heavy sigh. "Well, the day is a beautiful one indeed...really builds up a man's thirst..."

Subtlety had never been a strong point of the rotund Shirrif and Aman laughed, handing him the pint of ale - always on the house, for it didn't do to offend to postie, or the Shirrif - and seating him at a nearby table. "There you go, Halfred. Dumpling is in the stables?"

"Of course - you have a new boy, I noticed...?"

"Aye, Merrimac - but hardly new! You should visit us more, Mr Whitfoot - you'll be left behind," she teased. The hobbit chuckled good naturedly and took a long draft of the pint, swallowing half of it at once. Aman hovered beside him, careful not to let her impatience show: Halfred had a habit of dancing around his actual reason for coming, and if you showed any impatience, he usually only dragged the task out more. But today, it seemed, he was in a less teasing mood, for as he put down the pint again he fumbled around and produced two letters from his bag. Squinting at them unsteadily, he looked around and replaced one, then took another long pull at his ale. Aman resisted the urge to fold her arms and raise her eyebrows, and was rewarded with the other letter. Smiling gratefully, she thanked Halfred and returned to the bar, pondering the letter's contents. Taking a small kitchen knife from the odd bits of cutlery under the bar, she slit the letter open tidily and scanned it's contents quickly.

Dearest Aman,

It has been long since we have spoken, hasn't it old friend? I would take time to catch up, but then, what is the point? The subject matter in letters are, after all, quite different from those to be broached face to face.

Aman smiled, recognising the tone of the letter rather than the quick handwriting, written with a light hand so it was quite hard to read on the dark, speckled parchment. Holding it up to the light a little more, she read on:

But no matter, for I think we may be able to meet up rather soon. Although I returned to Gondor those months back (and it has taken me a while to find you - how on earth did you end up in the Shire, my dear?!), my attention was drawn to something that may rather interest you. On the Great East Road (South of that pretty, secretive little backwater you currently reside in), there is to be another of the great markets.

But it is to be larger than usual, I am led to believe, and the goods even more worthy: the farriers are turning out well for it. Some groups of Southerners and Easterlings have moved further into the mainlands, and they have come up, along with groups of Gondorian and Rohirric horsebreeders. I know you have always had an interest in the strange, angular steeds of the Haradrim...

The market will last for a week, and by the time this reaches you, you may have missed some already. Come, Aman - it will be a pleasure to see you once more, although I do not doubt it will be the promises of so diverse a range of horses that will persuade you rather than simply me!

Truly,

Taydoch.

Taydoch... Aman had guessed at the very beginning. The Gondorian author of the letter had been a good friend of hers for several years back in Rohan, taking odd jobs here and there in Inns and shops, before eventually blowing up in the stables with Aman - having bluffed his way in, not actually knowing how to ride. The man was an oddity, a year or two younger than Aman herself - but he had been one of her dearest friends. After he had returned to Gondor, to some family crisis, a few months before Aman left for The Green Dragon, the pair had lost touch. It would be good to see him again.

But bearing in mind the speed of post...Aman grinned determindly and tightened her grip on the letter. Surely Cook wouldn't begrudge her a few days...

Briskly entering the kitchen, Aman found Cook standing by the great fire, stirring a large cauldron of fine smelling stew. Resolving to stay for lunch, the Innkeeper tapped Vinca on the shoulder and handed her the letter, giving a gabbled, eager explanation as the elderly hobbit read the letter over. Vinca took a moment's pause having finished the letter, then folded it very slowly and carefully. Taking off her glasses, she looked up at the Innkeeper - and nodded, smiling. Aman beamed back. "Oh, thankyou, Miss Bunce - I know I may be leaving you in the-"

"Oh, pish posh, I did the same when Zimzi and Derufin went with Pio. And after all, you said this will only be for a few days..."

Aman nodded firmly. "Aye, two, maybe three."

"And you will leave..."

"From the smell of that stew? Well, I shall be hanging around for lunch, that is certain!" The pair laughed and Vinca rolled her eyes as Aman darted back out and upstairs to pack what little she would be taking.

~*~*~

OCC: I will be leaving tomorrow morning on holiday, and will be without internet access for a week I am afraid (I will return late on the evening of Sunday 22nd). Apologies - have fun, and happy writing this week without me!

Envinyatar

08-15-2004, 02:22 AM

From his vantage point on the roof, Derufin could see the Hobbits working at a steady pace below. Andwise, of course, knew the other four, younger lads and had stepped into the room they were just starting to frame, admiring their work and asking where, if any, doors they intended to put on and would their be any built in cabinets.

‘Aye, there’ll be a door here,’ said Tomlin, ‘and two windows, here and here. So’s they can get a cross-breeze of sorts on those hot shire nights.’ He shook his head at the question of cabinets – be best if we just put in a wardrobe, I think – one they can move if they need to.’

He could not here what Andwise said, as they had now passed into the interior of the house. But soon he saw Andwise bringing out cupboard doors to lean against some sawhorses he’d set up. And on another pair, he and one of the younger Hobbits, Fallon, had brought ought the old door and laid it flat across them.

‘Think you can salvage that one?’ Derufin called down to Andwise as the Hobbit surveyed wood closely, running his practiced fingers along the surface as his eyes scanned up and down.

Primrose Bolger

08-15-2004, 03:10 AM

Ginger watched as the Innkeeper and Cook spoke. She had gathered the violets . . . blues and yellows and whites. And, to her delight, in a little patch beneath the Ash tree that overlooked an older part of the flower patch, were the Heart’s Ease, a much loved pansy-violet of old with its lavender-blue, white and yellow petals. The little basket she had been given to put the flowers in put forth a light and lovely scent.

Away from the heat of the cooking hearth, Cook had sat her down, with a small bowl in which she’d gently beaten together some egg whites and a little water. Dipping her small brush into the egg mixture, ginger lightly painted the petals of the violets, a flower at a time, then holding the now sticky violet over another bowl filled with fine milled sugar, she sprinkled a small stream onto each flower, coating them with the shiny crystals. Flower after flower was patiently done in such a manner, then laid gently on a baking rack to dry.

‘How long will these last,’ she asked Cook, about halfway through the task. ‘A year,’ came the quick reply from Miz Bunce, as she added a few grinds of pepper and a little chopped parsley to the stew. ‘’We only need them to last a week, though.’ Cook came over to give a critical glance over at the lass’ effort. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘You’ve a deft hand at that.’

Ginger blushed at the compliment, the crimsoned stain spreading up her fair neck to her cheeks, which soon burned bright as beacons. ‘Never have done such before,’ she confided to Cook. She picked up one of the violets and twirled it about in her fingers. ‘It’s going to be a beautiful cake, isn’t it? My stars, it will look just like a big bouquet of flowers!’

Buttercup bustled in from the common room, her eyes widening at the racks of bejeweled flowers. She picked up one of the more dried ones and admired it from all sides. Without thinking, she popped it into her mouth, the sweet surprise of it making her smile. With a cluck of disapproval, Cook shooed her out of the kitchen before she could taste another, ushering her to the door with directions to tell Derufin and the others to come in, in a bit, for lunch. Ginger, while Cook’s back was turned, winked at Buttercup, then boldly popped one of her creations into her own mouth.

Arry

08-15-2004, 03:46 AM

Ferdy could hear his Da whistling as he came round the side of Inn’s old caretaker’s cottage. Andwise was happiest when he was “workin’ the wood” he’d always told his son. And sure enough, there he was planning and scraping down some small doors to some cupboards he supposed. Ferdy waved as his Da looked up. ‘Shall I start on one of these little doors you’re doing, or start on the big door over there?’

‘Big one, I think, son,’ said Andwise, pointing at the wooden toolchest set near him. ‘There’s a second planer in there. And I think in the back of the cart there’s a basket of shavegrass we can use for the fine rubbing.’

The two set to work, a comfortable silence settling in between them, punctuated by the frequent bursts of melody as the spirit struck Andwise. It was an hour or so later, when Buttercup came bustling from the Inn with news they were to put aside their work and wash up at the pump. There was stew to be served for lunch with thick slices of crusty bread. She’d set a table for them all beneath the spreading oak tree near the back door of the kitchen and would be serving them herself.

Andwise harrumphed as he watched the Hobbit lads gawp at the retreating figure of Buttercup. He was about to make a remark to Ferdy, when he noticed the same expression on his son’s face. Almost as one, the five young Hobbits ran toward the yard pump. Derufin had by this time come down from the roof and stood staring after the retreating herd. ‘Now don’t that just beat all,’ said Andwise, shaking his head at the lads. He grinned up at Derufin. ‘Nothing like the anticipation of a hand-fasting party to turn the young’uns heads . . .’

piosenniel

08-15-2004, 04:12 AM

Lalwendë

08-15-2004, 03:06 PM

Jinniver Cornthrift had been busy since breakfast. She had brought her horse, Nutkin, out to take some fresh air, and then had been seeing to the goods she carried in her cart. Under the tarpaulin were boxes and packets of seeds, all labelled in Jinniver’s own hesitant but neat handwriting, there were empty plant pots, hand painted in bright colours, and wooden containers with little jars, packed in straw to keep them safe. These jars contained the sauces Jinniver made, following her mother’s old recipes. These too were labelled, “Cornthrift Farm Condiments, The Greenway, Bree”. Jinniver checked to see that all this produce was safe, and then began to attend to the trays of seedlings and cuttings which took up most of the space in the cart.

After she had finished watering all her plants, Jinniver felt in need of a rest, and sat down on the grass at the side of the road, in the shade of her cart, and lit up her pipe. Her hair was coming loose again and she began to wish she had gone back up to her room to tidy it up, but now she felt too tired to do so and simply knotted it back onto the nape of her neck once more. She was wondering whether to go into Hobbiton with her wares when she saw an extremely round hobbit coming up the road, and she stopped to watch him.

He was as wide as he was tall, and his round stomach reminded Jinniver of a large ball, stuffed inside a fancy waistcoat; his head was also rather round, and his face was red. She smiled to see him, and even though she pretended to be looking at the view, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the hobbit. Despite his rotund frame, he was walking quickly and soon drew level with Jinniver, where he halted, leaning on his walking stick.

“I say, young miss, could I trouble you for a light?” he asked, his head on one side.

“Why, of course, “ said Jinniver, standing up. The hobbit lit up his pipe, took a deep draught and exhaled with a sigh. “Egbert Proudfoot,” he extended his hand and Jinniver shook it tentatively. “Retired Gentlehobbit of Hobbiton. Most pleased to meet you miss.”

“And I am Jinniver Cornthrift of Bree, here on business, although it is turning out to be quite a pleasurable trip” Jinniver smiled, and Egbert asked her about her line of business, something which Jinniver felt quite comfortable discussing with this strange hobbit. Before long, they were looking at the packets of seeds and happily talking about blooms and slug remedies and soil improvements. She had soon learned the names of the many keen gardeners in the village, who Egbert assured her would welcome the chance to buy some of her seeds and cuttings.

“You might have heard of the Gamgees, they have become real collectors of rare plant species. Have you seen the Mallorn tree yet?”, said Egbert. Jinniver had heard of this wonderful tree, and was excited to hear about it. She asked the hobbit to tell her more, about how Hobbiton had come by it, but he said he regretfully had to be moving on, as he was due to visit his son for lunch, but before he went on his way, he bought as many packets of seed as he could carry, and he asked her to deliver some seedlings to his hobbit hole down the road.

Jinniver watched the hobbit go and felt happy. She looked at the coins in her hand, lost in thought for a moment. She had come to The Shire hoping to earn money and make some contacts, but it was also turning out to be something of a holiday, an experience she had never before had. Many years ago she had felt great happiness, but this had all too soon turned to regret and fear, and since then her life had mostly been hard work. She was almost afraid of happiness, in case it was taken away from her. The memory of herself as a very young woman floated into her mind, and quickly she shook it away. She didn’t want the past to spoil the simple happiness she felt now, and she did what she always did to help her forget, work. Purposefully, she took out her accounts book and logged the sale she had just made, then made her way back inside the inn to have something to drink before delivering Mr Proudfoot’s order.

Envinyatar

08-15-2004, 03:23 PM

Derufin stood alongside Andwise as the younger Hobbits ran to get themselves ready for lunch. He took the blue rag hanging from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow and neck. ‘I expect we should amble over, too,’ he commented, watching as Andwise put his tools away carefully before leaving. The Hobbit was a true craftsman, he thought to himself. He remembered the old man from his home who had been the same way. ‘Take care of your tools and they’ll take care of you,’ he’d cautioned the young men who’d worked alongside him. And Derufin had found the old fellow’s words to hold true . . . not just for his paying handiwork, but in other areas of his life as well - the meaning broadening as he grew older. Take care of those things that help you move through your life. It had been one of the small bright sparks that had helped him to move through the horror that had threatened to overwhelm him after the war.

A discreet ahem from Andwise brought him back to the present. The Hobbit pointed toward where Buttercup was setting up the outdoor table for the workers. ‘Look there,’ said Andwise. ‘I believe that’s Egbert Proudfoot. Wonderful gardener – his flowers and vegetables are the pride of Hobbiton.’ Derufin shaded his eyes with his hand, in the direction the Hobbit pointed. ‘Well, let’s go down and meet him,’ suggested Derufin. ‘My Zimzi’s a gardener herself. She’s from the northern coasts, though . . . I’m sure there are different secrets to the soil here.’

The two ambled at a leisurely pace toward the oak tree near the Inn’s kitchen door. ‘I wonder who that woman is, there with him . . . the one he’s speaking with . . .’

piosenniel

08-16-2004, 02:41 AM

‘You’ve a bit of sugar at the corner of your lips, dear!’

Cook bustled past Ginger as she spoke, and made her way back to the stew pot. The lamb was bubbling away in a savory sauce spiced with onions and celery tops, a pinch of sage and little sprinkling of thyme. Into the pot she now scraped the bowls of cut up taters and carrots, and stalks of celery, chopped in chunks. Ruby had come in from helping Buttercup set up the outdoors table for the workmen, and began setting up the trays for the lunch tables. Crocks of sweet cream butter; baskets of thick cut, crusty bread; napkins and eating utensils; small pottery saltcellars, and peppergrinders. Pitchers, too, were got out which would hold the sweet, cold cider, and mugs to drink it from.

Blackberry cobbler was to be the dessert to round out the midday meal, and Cook had commandeered Ginger to wash the berries and put them in several large bowls. ‘Just sweeten them up with sugar from the pantry, and make sure you dust in some flour to thicken the berry juice when it bakes,’ she directed her.

While the young Hobbit set about following her instructions, Cook got out a quantity of flour and a generous helping of butter. Measuring the flour by eye into a large crockery bowl, she began to cut in a goodsized portion of butter until the mixture was rich and crumbly.

Primrose Bolger

08-16-2004, 03:13 AM

Ginger loved the sight and smell of blackberries. They were dark and shiny and caught the light as she turned the sugar into them; they seemed to wink at her playfully. Miz Bunce had told her to use just sugar and flour, but her mam had always used a pinch of salt to bring out the flavor, a little lemon juice to add a tart edge to the sweetness, and a sprinkle of finely ground cinnamon root that made the mixture a little spicy – earthy, almost.

Five large, rectangular pans, each generously greased with butter, had been laid out on the table by one of the other Hobbit lasses sent by their mothers to help for the day. Ginger ladled out equal portions of the berry mixture into each pan, and dotted them all with small pieces of butter. Cook had by then finished the pastry topping, and dividing it out into five equal pieces had rolled each one out to a size large enough to cover the berries entirely in each pan. Ginger then brushed on some melted butter and sprinkled sugar on top of the crust. Cook opened the oven and placed each of the pans carefully in on the racks to bake. Then she and Ginger finished the last of the violets and put them all in an out of the way place to dry.

Cook looked about the kitchen in a satisfied manner. Ginger nodded at her. All was in order, food and drink ready for lunch when it rolled around, the decorations for the cake done and drying. By mutual agreement they sat down at the table, having cleared away the debris from making the cobbler, and pulling up chairs, they both propped their feet on one and sat back to enjoy a fragrant cup of sweet-spice tea.

piosenniel

08-16-2004, 02:32 PM

~*~*~*~*~*~ NOTICE OF NEW RPG OPENING ~*~*~*~*~*~

Nuranar and Envinyatar invite you take a look at their new game:

Wilderness, Weathertop, and Wildthings (also known as – W,W, & WT) (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=11062)

The Discussion Thread will open to take on players on 08/20.

Until then, read the proposal carefully and craft a needed Character and First Post for submission.

See you there!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

Lalwendë

08-17-2004, 02:07 PM

As Jinniver went back towards the inn she heard another hobbit loudly hailing Mr Proudfoot, and she stopped briefly to see if he had heard. Sure enough, Egbert Proudfoot came quickly back up the road huffing and puffing, his face even more red; he was shouting about how he was in a rush but seemed more than willing to be sidetracked by an old acquaintance all the same.

The stable master was with the hobbit who had hailed Mr Proudfoot, and he looked back over his shoulder at Jinniver, saying something to the other hobbit. Jinniver’s face flushed a little, but instead of hurrying away, wondering why anyone she didn’t know would possibly want to acknowledge her, as she might normally have done, she raised her hand in greeting. “Nice day, isn’t it?” she said. It was something she might have said to one of the Breelanders she knew well, but she would certainly not have been so familiar with a stranger just a couple of days ago.

Since she had arrived at the Green Dragon on the previous evening, she had met several strangers, and she was beginning to feel less nervous and clumsy, and more like her old self. Back before the dark days of the trouble, when all those men came up the Greenway and she had to learn to grow up fast. Her father had told her she had to stop pottering around her mother's farmhouse singing and dreaming, and instead had to learn about keeping quiet and locking the doors at night. Then there had been the time when they had had to flee into Bree itself, but that was the part of the story she didn't want to think about. When they came back to the ruins of the farm she was grown up and she had immersed herself in her work. And it had been that way ever since until now.

Envinyatar

08-18-2004, 03:35 AM

Egbert was on his way to his son’s, and could not stop to talk with Andwise for long. He nodded his head at Derufin as he was introduced and said it would be his pleasure to consult with his missus on the finer points of gardening here in the Westfarthing. The stable master grinned, saying that she was not his missus yet, but they would be glad to have Master Proudfoot over some time after the hand-fasting to have a look at Zimzi’s plans for plantings.

‘You know,’ said Derufin, a sudden thought coming to him as the Ebert spoke with Andwise. ‘Once the old cottage is done, it would be nice to surprise Zimzi with a nicely started flower bed. In fact, just in front of the small verandah, is what looks to have been two small areas ringed with stones, one on either side of the dirt walk to the front door. I’m certain there must have been flowers in there at one time, but now it has gone all weedy and what few plants are there seem scraggly at best.’

Andwise nodded his head in agreement. ‘I believe I do remember those beds . . . lovely flowers in all the seasons used to grow there. A welcoming sight as you approached the cottage. ‘And, you know, there was also a lovely ring of plantings beneath the old flowering plum in the front yard. They have quite gone to seed now, too.’ ‘It would be nice if Master Derufin, here, could get this done for his soon-to-be Missus, Egbert. You know anyone free over the next several days?’

Egbert scratched his head and sighed as he shook his head. ‘I don’t, and that’s for sure. Sorry about that . . .’ he began to apologize, then trailed off, his gaze coming to rest on the young woman from whom he had just bought the seed packets. ‘I wonder,’ he mumbled . . .

‘I say there, Mistress Cornthrift,’ Egbert went on in a louder voice. ‘I was just thinking . . . you’ve seeds and cuttings, and I would be happy to give the rest of whatever might be needed . . . will you be here at the Inn long enough to help these good folk out?’

Derufin smiled at the Hobbit’s assumption that the young woman might be in the slightest bit interested in this little project. But Egbert had got the bit in his mouth and pushed on. ‘Be glad to lend the services of my two grandsons . . . good at digging and hauling, the lads are. Be happy to work for a chance to pester Miz Bunce for cakes and cookes. She’s their aunt, on their mother’s side, you see.’ Well, what do you say?’

Lalwendë

08-18-2004, 02:07 PM

“Well, what do you say?”

Jinniver was taken aback and couldn’t think of what to say as quickly as she’d have liked. She bit her lip and looked down for a moment.

“Why, oh, you mean me?” She blustered. “I…why, I should be most happy to help you out. Of course I would. How wonderful of you to think of me!”

Jinniver smiled, looking at each of them in turn, and then shook their hands. “When will we start?” she said brightly. “Is the garden that one by the little cottage you are working on?” She was already thinking of the red geranium plants and the tray of blue trailing lobelia which were in the back of her cart. And the two young fuchsia bushes which were already showing signs of the drooping pink and purple flowers they would bear.

Turning to Derufin, she asked him to think about what sort of plants and flowers he would like her to provide. “I can send word to my father and niece, as they are at home tending the farm, and they can send along just about anything you could want for your garden. So please, do tell me what you and your good lady would like to see in your garden.” Then she realised something. “Is this to be a surprise for the hand fasting I have heard so much talk about?”

Egbert Proudfoot puffed his chest out a little with pride at having arranged something so splendid for all. He had always been a great one for organising and setting business in order for other people, and he felt very pleased with himself. Jinniver could tell he was thinking about what a good job he had done, and she thanked Mr Proudfoot warmly once again, and decided to leave him a gift of a free jar of especially tasty horseradish sauce when she delivered his order, by way of thanks. It would go nicely with some mashed taters, and she felt sure the hobbit would enjoy it.

Kates Frodo Temp

08-18-2004, 09:32 PM

Sylvie! Sylvie!

Sylvenya stopped with her left hand trembling against the door. Go away! You cannot follow me here!

Sylvie, stop! Please go back; you are not safe all alone!

Let me be! I could not stay there forever, not any more than you could! Why should I be left behind? Are you so selfish, Mother? Do you hate me so much?

Wait! Sylvie, I...

She flung herself inside, letting the door fall shut with a great clatter. The smells of smoke and of dinner cooking instantly wrapped Sylvie like a blanket, keeping out unwanted thoughts. She brushed a dark curl from her eyes, and blinked, trying to adjust to the soft, indoor light.

"Are you all right, missy?"

Sylvie peered over at a lady who was smiling at her from behind the counter. I must have missed that. "Were you saying something to me?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're all right. You look a bit upset."

Sylvie blinked again, and took a few steps forward. "Forgive me, but I cannot understand you." She spoke slowly, with a odd, soft slur. "Would you please say that again?"

Envinyatar

08-19-2004, 01:05 AM

“Is this to be a surprise for the hand fasting I have heard so much talk about?”

Derufin brushed his arm across his forehead. It was hot in the noontime sun. Shading his eyes with his hand, he smiled widely at the young woman. ‘It is a surprise . . . Mistress Cornthrift, is it?’ With his free hand he made an open gesture toward the great oak tree. ‘Let’s finish our talk in the shade, what do you say?’

Egbert Proudfoot left them as the three headed toward the table set in tree’s shade. ‘You’ll join us for lunch won’t you,’ he said to Jinniver, making it more of a statement than a question. ‘Buttercup!’ he called out to serving lass as she buzzed about the table setting out baskets of bread and pots of butter. The five lads who had been helping at the cottage followed close behind her – she’d commandeered their assistance in setting out the bowls and table ware and mugs. She looked up and smiled to see him approaching.

‘We’ve another for lunch, Buttercup,’ he grinned, nodding at Jinniver. ‘Can you and Cook accommodate her?’

‘Her and half the Shire, if need be,’ laughed Buttercup. ‘Don’t you know Cook’s gone and made enough stew and blackberry tart to feed a multitude?’ Buttercup motioned for Ferdy to come near. ‘Be a love, now won’t you! Just go and fetch an extra stool for the lady?’ she instructed him, turning him about and pushing him toward the kitchen’s door. There were baleful looks from the other lads as Ferdy stumbled past them, his cheeks crimson.

‘Listen, Buttercup,’ said Derufin pulling the Hobbit aside. ‘Can you keep Zimzi from the cottage until after the wedding? I’ve a little surprise for her that I don’t want her to know about.’ Buttercup looked round Derufin to where Ferdy was just seating Jinniver. ‘And I suppose that one there has something to do with the “surprise”?’ ‘As a matter of fact she does.’ Derufin hurriedly explained his ideas as Buttercup nodded her head. ‘I’ll let Cook know. She’ll find plenty to keep Zimzi occupied.’

Derufin seated himself next to Jinniver just as the servers were going about the table pouring cold cider or ale. ‘I have to say that I know nothing, really, of flowers . . . only that my lady is fond of them and I would have her happy. Horses I know about and the fixing and building of things. But the mystery of growing things escapes me. If you are agreeable, Mistress Cornthrift, I would be happy to leave the planning and plantings in your hands. Something bright and colorful and welcoming would be enough for me.’ ‘There is one other thing you should consider . . .,’ he said, passing her the basket of bread that Andwise had passed to him. ‘The hand-fasting will be in a week’s time. Will that be enough for you to work your magic?’

piosenniel

08-19-2004, 01:49 AM

It is noon-time at the Green Dragon Inn. Lunch is now being served. The fragrant scent of lamb stew and blackberry tart is hinting that lunch is indeed ready.

The day is proving to be a fair one so far . . . no clouds on the horizon as yet.

Lalwendë

08-19-2004, 03:26 PM

Jinniver had found herself urged to join Derufin and Andwise for lunch under the shade of the ancient Oak. Her head was spinning a little, whether this was the sun or the hospitality, she could not tell, but she gratefully took a large draft of a mug of cool cider before helping herself to a warm bread roll from the basket.

“A week? Oh yes, I am sure I could plant you a fine little garden in a week.” she said, answering Derufin’s questions. “But….” she took another draft of the cider. “I wouldn’t call it magic.”

Derufin raised his eyebrows and Jinniver laughed a little nervously. “Well, what I mean to say is, I wasn’t being rude, but spending all these years with plants, you get to know what they like. And this Shire soil is supposed to be most rich, what with how all those trees grew back so fast after the trouble. This is a happy place for plant to be, and a happy plant grows true and strong.” None of the hobbits looked at her oddly for this statement. Such odd things were often said in The Shire by the many gardeners. Some hobbits, it was said, even spoke to their plants. Jinniver would not have found this strange, she had spent many lonely hours in the fields and often found herself chattering away though there was nobody to listen.

There was quiet for a moment as the company all started to tuck into the bread. The only sounds were the odd mumbled “Umm” and “Mmm”, and the scraping of butter knives. The sharp but sweet smell of blackberry tart filled the air, mingling with the aroma of lamb stew. Jinniver thought of fragrant herbs and night-scented stock and the smell of lavender. These would be lovely in the garden. She would have to send a message back to the farm this very afternoon.

The silence was broken by one of the hobbits cheering as Buttercup brought the stew. Plates and spoons rattled as the meal was served up and there was a lot of excited chattering. “I’ll make a start today,” said Jinniver, reaching for more bread. “After I’ve delivered Mr Proudfoot’s order, I’ll send word to my father and what plants I don’t already have with me, will be here by the day after tomorrow at the very latest.”

Yes, colourful and fragrant, that was the garden a young bride might like. It was the same kind of garden she had helped to make for her brother’s wife, when they had set up in Bree just before the southerners came. One day, she might have made herself a garden like that, but now she had the whole farm and no need for her own garden, and certainly no time to be getting married. Not that she wanted to, she had thought of getting married once, but he had turned out to betray her and her family.

“I’ll make sure you get as fine a garden as any in The Shire. After all, you did provide my horse with the finest hay in The Shire,” she laughed, thinking about how sentimental she could be about her old horse. “Is all of The Shire as fine as here?”

Rose Cotton

08-19-2004, 03:52 PM

The door of the little inn swung open for a moment alowing a ray of sunshine to penetrate the room. In through the door stepped a small hooded hobbit lass. Pulling back her hood revealed her ruddy, weather- worn face. Her furry feet and the edges of her cloak were caked in drying mud. Her attire, which was thread-bare and torn hinted at the hobbit's long and distant travels.

After shaking back her curly brown hair the young hobbit ordered a drink at the bar and then settled herself in a secluded corner to rest and observe the crowd of people.

Rose is back home. She thought to herself.

Morsul the Dark

08-19-2004, 08:38 PM

Morsul gloomily looked up towards the Inn he was tired so was his horse, as he tied his horse to a post out side the old man scratched his stubbled chin. He walked into the bar. Inside he admired the great host of people present. Some patrons looked up but most ignored him as was to his liking he did not like others prying his business it was afterall his.

Ordering a large cup of Beer, he looked around the pub he seemed to believe all the eyes were upon him yet none looked at him he pulled back his long grey hair and then twisted his mustache as the beer took and his mind began to wonder. He was waiting. For what, he did not know.

rutslegolas

08-20-2004, 12:57 AM

Harry Brandybuck was stout and strong hobbit,he worked as a carpenter and had recently returned from his long journey to the strange but beautiful land of Rohan.He wished very much for a drink of good ale on his return,so he dropped into the Green Dragon Inn.'Such a long time since I have been here,but it just feels like yesterday',he thought.

When he entered the inn the smell of fresh lamb stew and buckleberry tart reached his nose and he nearly jumped in excitment.He then sat down at a table near a old Gaffer and ordered two ales for both of them.

piosenniel

08-20-2004, 03:58 AM

Zimzi had just entered the door to the kitchen from the common room, when Cook called her over. ‘Sit down, sit down, and have some lunch with me.’ The younger woman demurred, saying she would like to take her meal with Derufin, but Cook was insistent, saying that there were matters that needed to be spoken about and taken care of before her family arrived. ‘And besides, said Cook, the workmen are all eating together at a table we’ve set up in the yard. They’ll be done soon, I’m sure, then be back to their business. Mustn’t delay the, you know,’ she said nodding her head at Zimzi. ‘Time is short to get everything done.’

With an indulgent smile, Zimzi acquiesced to Cook’s request. And Buttercup served them both before taking second helpings out to the crew. From behind Zimzi’s back, out of the young woman’s view, Buttercup winked conspiratorially at Cook.

They were well past the buttering of bread and the spooning up of the fragrant stew before Cook got round to her agenda. She knew that Zimzi was quite fond of flowers, she began, and so she had arranged for her to spend a few days with a good friend of hers who lived up in Overhill. ‘And a friend of Mistress Piosenniel’s, too, when she lived here. Name of Amaranthas.’

‘Why, I remember her!’ cried Zimzi, her eyes glinting mischievously. ‘The Old Dragon – or so Pio called her sometimes, though always in a fond way.’

‘Dragon or no,’ continued Cook, ‘she’s a right treasure for flower lore. Has a lovely flower garden and can tell you what each one of them means.’ Zimzi looked at Cook perplexedly. What is she getting at? she wondered. ‘Yes, well,’ she said aloud, ‘I’m just a bit confused about this talk of flowers and their meanings. I think we do not have such a custom where I grew up.’

Cook took a deep breath before she began her explanation. ‘In the Shire, it’s customary to celebrate occasions with food and drink, dancing and song and speeches of all sorts . . . and flowers. Every sort of flower has its own meaning that goes with it. It’s rather like sending someone a message, but without using words. Sunflowers, for example, say “I adore you”. And flowering almond speaks of “Hope”. Those are but two of many.’ She got up from the table to dish them up a generous helping of blackberry tart. ‘Now this will be a large party – your handfasting. All of Bywater and Hobbiton have heard the news and will come in to make a day and night of it. The Inn yard will be set up within and without with many trestle tables to hold the food, and cakes, and drinks and of course, the mathoms.’

Zimzi’s face had gone quite pale at the scope that Cook had envisioned, and protested that surely this would be too much for Cook and the Inn staff to see to. No worry about that, Cook had assured her, the goodwives of the two towns would see that things got done up right for the special day. ‘And they’ll be expecting the same from you, once you and your Mister have settled in, with their sons’ and daughters’ weddings.’ ‘We like to do for each other in these parts,’ she went on. ‘Many hands make light work.’

So what had all this to do with flowers, Zimzi asked after taking in the enormity of the enterprise. Cook explained that it was customary to make small bouquets for each of the tables for the party, expressing the sentiments of the day. ‘And since you are quite fond of flowers, as I have noted, you and Miz Amaranthas can set yourselves to work getting them ready. She’s an old hand at that sort of thing and can give you all the pointers you’ll need.’

‘And here’s your bag, just now . . .’ smiled Cook, as Ruby came bustling through the door with a tapestry traveling bag packed with a few changes of clothes and other essentials.

‘My bag?’ croaked the young woman, as Cook and Ruby ushered her to the front door of the Inn and into a waiting cart, driven by the stableboy. ‘He’ll come fetch you in a few days . . . you and Miz Amaranthas . . . and the bouquets. We’ll see to the rest of the cleaning here at the Inn and get everything set up for the arrival of your parents and brothers.’

‘Enjoy yourself . . .’ cried Buttercup, waving wildly at the retreating cart. ‘We’ll see to Derufin while you’re away. Don’t you worry about him.’

piosenniel

08-20-2004, 11:30 AM

~*~*~*~*~*~ :D NOTICE OF NEW RPG OPENING :D ~*~*~*~*~*~

Nuranar and Envinyatar invite you take a look at their new game:

Wilderness, Weathertop, and Wildthings (also known as – W,W, & WT) (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=11062)

The Discussion Thread is now open to take on players.

Rangers, Elves, and Baddies needed!

See you there!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

Nurumaiel

08-20-2004, 01:28 PM

Donnamira had sat silently so far, much to Marcho's relief. At that table they had sat since the morning, waiting for the arrival of Blanco, his sister Peony, and Bingo. Luncheon was beginning now, and Don was beginning to hint that she was hungry again. Marcho fetched her a meal, and obtained a plate for himself as well when he realized with some surprise that he hadn't eaten breakfast, for he had been anxious to see his friends come.

'Hey dol!' a merry voice cried from the door, and Marcho breathed a sigh of relief that Posco was not there to be humiliated by his twin's boldness. 'Good day, good day, and goodbye,' Blanco said, his voice cheery as he tripped across the room to Marcho. 'I smell something marvellous; I wonder if I'd be allowed to have a bit? Hello, little Donnamira,' he added, patting the girl's curls. Then he turned his head and called across the room, 'Peony, dearie, honour us by sitting at our table, would you?'

'Of course I will, Blanco, but I do wish you would be a bit quieter,' said the young hobbit lass. Her features were very similiar to Blanco's, and she had his manner of staying clean and tidy, but the blush that spread over her face was much like Posco. 'Hello, Marcho,' she said, smiling at that one. 'It is good to see you again, though it hasn't been very long.'

'In fact,' he said in a gruff tone, 'it has been so short a time you needn't bother with even a simple hello.' She smiled again, for she was used to his manners.

Bingo crossed the room next with shining eyes, sitting next to Peony with the delight of a little boy. 'She arrived very soon after you left,' he said to Marcho, 'and I cannot express our delight in seeing her.' He turned his eyes and smiled at Don, and she smiled back with satisfaction before directing her attentions once again to her meal. Peony gazed at her in a bewildered manner and Blanco hastily made introductions. All doubts about the hobbit girl, if there had been any in the first place, were quickly dissolved in Peony's mind with the little thing stretched up and kissed her cheek in greeting.

Blanco looked approvingly at this, for he thought it only fitting that everyone should love his sister, and then he spoke to Marcho in a voice that struggled to be casual. 'Have you any idea as to when Posco and Lily will be back?' he questioned.

Marcho glanced up sharply and said, 'Who gave you permission to call her by her first name?'

'I think she did,' Blanco replied coolly, 'but even if she did not it would not matter for I cannot remember her surname.'

'Well, I don't know when they'll be back,' said Marcho, and the subject was temporarily closed.

Morsul the Dark

08-20-2004, 01:46 PM

Morsul finished his beer and ordered another pint, he had been travelling for uncounted days, seeking fame, riches, and most of all adventure. To his dismay all his efforts had got him nowhere except this small Hobbit-Pub. The Green Dragon, he thought to himself, was a rather noisy place the hobbits certainly liked drinking and talking loudly. he fished out his pipe and his pipweed bag. It was empty. He cursed to himself, then searching the room he saw a table with a hobbit man smoking.

Morsul walked to the table, "Good day master hobbit I was wondering if you mind giving me a bit of pipeweed I've finished mine alas." Being kindhearted, or merely scared of the man the hobbit passed over a bit, Morsul kindly thanked him and gave him a piece of gold to ay for it. Smelling the weed he noticed it was one he had yet to taste. He asked what it was, the hobbit gladly boasted it was Old Toby. Morsul thanked him again then began to smoke it was a wonderous weed full of energy. Morsul began to twist his mustache again. He walked outside and sat beneath a tree, "Far too beatiful of a day to spend inside." With that his tired eyes closed and he fell asleep

Isilmë

08-20-2004, 02:44 PM

Isilmë blushed even more as the maiden spoke to him. Her words sounded like music to his ears, and he was like enchanted by her grace and beauty. He was dumb with astonishment cause of Ascasirs good charisma and manner. She joined them by their table and she was he first to say anything.

'Thank you Isilmë for your invitation. My name is Gwenneth. I hail from the Grey Havens.' she said and smiled towards Isilmë.

Isilmë half-bowed in reply to Gwenneth and now spoke more self-assured and pulled himself together and said; 'As you've heard, my Lady, my name is Isilmë. I am from the Golden Wood in Lorien, but in the past time I've been staying in Ery Lasgalen, just as Ascasir.' He didn't blush anymore, and he glanced over to Ascasir that didn't seem unsure about himself at all.

Gwenneth's voice ringed like bells in their ears and Isilmë felt that he could sit there and just listen to her forever. The spell ended as it started to clatter from plates and they turned their heads and now saw that lunch was being served.

The nice smell of the lunch started to tempt Isilmë's mind and he glanced over to a counter where they now served lunch. Cause of his late breakfast he had, he didn't feel much hungry, but a small piece of lamb stew would be nice.

Many of the Inn guests started to eat lunch and Isilmë saw how Ascasirs gaze was like drawn towards the counter where the lunch was being served. Isilmë cleared his throat and said 'I believe that I am not the only one who is hungry.' He glanced over to Ascasir with a smile. 'I suggest we'd get something to eat, or what do you say?'

Kates Frodo Temp

08-20-2004, 03:06 PM

As she stepped forward, trying to catch the smiling lady's words, Sylvie saw the afternoon sunshine spilling in from the open door behind her. She spun around to see a hobbit lass just coming through. When am I going to be used to seeing such tiny people? She backed out of the way as the hobbit stepped across to the counter, and nearly collided with a grey-haired gentleman who was also coming in. "Pardon me, sir!" He seemed not to notice Sylvie.

By the time that Sylvie regained her composure, the lady was busy with her guests. Oh, well. She sank the floor with her back against the wall to the right of the door. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she closed her eyes and tried to think what to do next. Things will work out. I have not gone hungry yet.

There's not enough money for you to go on like this, Sylvie. You ought to go where you are safe.

Stop it! Even if it was safe--it's not, mother--I'm not going back now. Please, you are wasting your time!

Time does not matter to me anymore.

I know that. I know, but it matters to me, mother.

Arry

08-20-2004, 03:43 PM

“Is all of the Shire as fine as here?”

Derufin, Andwise noted, was distracted at the sight of a small cart heading west down the road toward Hobbiton. Merrimac, the stableboy, could be seen driving the trap, but in the seat next to him sat a lady who could but barely be seen. “Zimzi?” said Derufin, rising from his place at the table. The man excused himself hastily and went into the kitchen, Andwise supposed, to inquire where she had gone.

The Hobbit, pushing away his empty bowl of stew and waving off the serving girl’s offer of blackberry tart, gave a satisfied sigh and decided to answer Jinniver’s question himself. He took out his pouch of Southern Star and offered it to the woman then filled his own pipe.

“Well, Mistress Cornthrift,’ he began, tamping down the pipeweed as he did so. “There’s some as say this is the heart of the Shire, and none can be found as is finer than here. But I expect they're the good folk that have always lived around these parts. I’ve taken jobs in other parts of the Farthings and found the country side and its folk much as they are here. Some shine out like new silver pennies, all fair in temper and hands out to help a neighbor. Others are the bad pennies, so to speak. Looking to turn the advantage to themselves if they can. Lucky us though, there’s a sight more of the shiny pennies than the tarnished!” He took a draw on his now lit pipe. “Much like the rest of the world, I expect. Though I don’t plan to find out for myself.”

“What about you? From Bree I heard. What brings you so far afield from home?”

Andwise stopped Buttercup as she passed with the cider. “A wee bit before we’re back to work, if you don’t mind, Miss.”

Saurreg

08-21-2004, 12:13 AM

Ascasir was delighted by the company provided by the Galadhrim Isilmë and Gwenneth, Sindar of the Grey Havens. He could see and was glad of heart that the former had regained his composure and was getting more animated and confident as the seconds trickled pass, and he was easily becoming the center of attention with his sharp wits, lively words and that special charisma. The beautiful Gwenneth must have noticed this impressive improvement also, for her sharp sparkling grey eyes were increasingly drawn upon the noble face of the elf from Lorien. As both Isilmë and the fair elven maiden continued to conversate, their pure and melodic voices filled the air like sounds of exotic woodwind instruments and Ascasir was contented to just sitting back letting his newly acqainted friends lead on.

The moments passed swiftly under elven company and soon it was midday. The rays of the sun now shone brightly through the open widows of the room and fell upon anything in its path, painting all in an inviting warm golden hue. Ascasir permitted himself a wane smile of approval as he felt the deliciously warm caress of the sun against his back.

From the back of the serving hall, the strong aroma of stewed meats, earthly herbs and fragrant spices tickled his nostrils.

Isilmë cleared his throat and said 'I believe that I am not the only one who is hungry.' He glanced over to Ascasir with a smile. 'I suggest we'd get something to eat, or what do you say?'

"Aye, friend Isilmë! The smell of good food does kindle one's appetite, no? I will join you and I insist that our fair companion from the Grey Havens join us also as we partake in merry drink and feast," replied Ascasir as he looked upon both his companions smilingly.

The unexpected but delighfully companionship of kindreds, the warm light of an apex sun on a cloudless lazy day and a hearty meal. What more can a simple Silvan elf ask for?

Morsul the Dark

08-21-2004, 01:13 AM

Morsul woke as a horse carriage rumbled past, yawning, he reluctantly gather his belongings and returned to the inn sadly the hobbits that had given him the Old Toby were gone He had planned on buying them a round of beer. Instead he looked around. There was a table filled with young hobbits listening with great interest to the stories of an older hobbit.

It seemed he was telling the tale of a local legend, one Bilbo Baggins, uncle of Frodo BAggins, Morsul knew of Frodo though he knew nothing of his uncle. Asking leave he joined the hobbits and to their delight he ordered a round of Ale on him. Hobbits were certainly excitable creature when it came to food and Ale. After the ale came the Old hobbit(he was called Gaffer) began to tell his tale.

starkat

08-21-2004, 07:26 AM

The smell of lamb stew, fresh bread, and cider trickled into the room. Gwenneth had been enjoying her conversation with Isilmë and Ascasir immensely. She had been surprised at how much she had missed the companionship of other elves.

The time had passed so quickly, that Gwenneth realized that she was hungry again. When Isilmë suggested that they get lunch, the young elf maid smiled. After Ascasir gave his agreement, Gwenneth gave hers. “The idea of eating again sounds wonderful.”

Ascasir and Isilmë both motioned for her to stay seated. The two elves offered to bring her lunch back to their table. Having a little bit of a mischievous streak, Gwenneth nodded her agreement. When the two elves returned, they were surprised to find that their chairs had been replaced with hobbit-sized ones. They placed their bowls and mugs on the table and looked around for the culprit.

Gwenneth did her best to keep a straight face, but one look from Isilmë and she began giggling. “I apologize. I could not resist.” She looked up at the Silvan and Galadhrim and hoped that they were not upset.

Isilmë

08-21-2004, 09:01 AM

Isilmë smiled towards Gwenneth and said 'Just stay here lady Gwenneth, and we will get you something.' He glanced over to Ascasir that bowed and motioned that she should stay. Gwenneth nodded towads them and Isilmë and Ascasir went over to the counter to get something to eat. Isilmë thought that the lamb stew smelled delicious and was very eager to try it.

Together with Ascasir he returned to their table with a bowl of lamb stew to Gwenneth. As they got closer they saw that both their seats were taken by two hobbits. When Gwenneth looked up at Isilmë that stood there and didn't say anything. He was perplexed and it was like his tounge had frozen and couldn't move.

She giggled and said 'I apologize. I could not resist.' She smiled to them and then looked back at the hobbits. Ascasir smiled and then turned to Isilmë.

'Well,' he started and scratched his head, 'don't worry, we'll get two other chairs.'

Isilmë left the bowls with the stew and went getting two new chairs for his friend and himself. Ascasir and Isilmë seated together by the table that was quiet crowded by now and they had keep their elbows in.

'Well met, little masters,' Isilmë said with a warm smile to the hobbits, 'I am Isilmë from the Golden Wood of Lorien.' He bowed and turned to Ascasir, that sat just looking at them.

Isilmë still felt surprised and overwhelmed by the hobbits, but still he was satisfied by their prescence, as he thought that half-lings was an interesting race. Gwenneth seemed like she also enjoyed their company. She gave Isilmë a warm smile and giggled.

Lalwendë

08-21-2004, 01:49 PM

The stable master had suddenly excused himself and Jinniver turned to Andwise the hobbit, with a smile on her face. He offered her some pipeweed and she filled her pipe as she listened to him. “What about you? From Bree I heard. What brings you so far afield from home?”

“Yes, I am a Breelander” Jinniver took a draw on her pipe and blew a smoke ring. “Our farm is on the Greenway, just outside the walls, though far away enough to be called a quiet place. I live with my old Dad, and my niece has lately joined us there. My brother is a brewer in Bree itself. You could call our farm a nursery, as we grow only flowers and shrubs, not taters and wheat, though we do grow herbs. I’ve come to The Shire to see if some of the good folk hereabouts would like to buy from us.”

Andwise looked as though he was a little puzzled. “Well, it is not so far, and now we have regular carts going to and fro on the road, it would be easy to send deliveries. I even thought of making a little seed catalogue of sorts, so that over the winter evenings the gardeners of the Shire can pass the time in ordering those things they want to grow when spring comes around”.

Jinniver was keen to know if this would be something Shire folk would like. It was an idea she had thought of before leaving home, but had decided to keep it in the back of her mind until she saw how things went. She had not known what to expect of the Shire, though some of the Hobbits of Bree, regular customers and good friends, had urged her to try for some trade here. Her father had been keen on the idea, though he was nervous about letting her go alone. “Still, I suppose you’ve seen through enough troubles. I daresay you could handle yourself” he had said, more to reassure himself. As Jinniver looked around her, she wondered at her father’s worries. She had never thought such a friendly and charming place could exist. She blew another smoke ring contentedly and then her face became more serious.

“I have heard tell about the troubles that the Shire itself suffered, worse than we had in Bree. Though they were bad enough,“ she said sadly. “And yet it is so welcoming here. In the inn last night, there were many people, elves and men, who I’d only call peculiar, and look at that strange man under the tree there now.” They watched as the grey haired man woke up and got to his feet. “These are all as old friends in the Shire, and yet I wouldn’t go down The Greenway without such as this” Jinniver pulled out the old dagger she carried. “The King may have come back, but there could still be untrustworthy creatures abroad.”

Andwise looked a little startled as she put the knife onto the table, and she withdrew it with a smile. "Or am I too wary, master Andwise?"

starkat

08-21-2004, 05:46 PM

Her joke had come off wonderfully. The two hobbits who had assisted her greeted the elves just as they sat down and then returned to their own table. Gwenneth could not quit giggling. The look on her new friends’ faces had been worth it.

Gwenneth smiled at her companions. “It is not often that I get the opportunity to show my more mischievous side. Thank you for being such good sports.”

Isilmë and Ascasir looked at each other and laughed. All three elves returned to the meal at hand. After a few minutes, Gwenneth spoke first. “Have you seen much of the Shire since your arrival?”

Envinyatar

08-21-2004, 06:28 PM

‘Don’t get your breeches in a twist, Stablemaster!’ Cook looked up from her lists as she sat at the table, the tall figure of Derufin looming over her. ‘No “Hello, Cook!” or a “By your leave, Cook”?! Just a demand to know where Mistress Zimzi has gone off to!’

Derufin backed away a few steps. Cook had stood up from her chair with the last sentence, and hands on hips, one foot tapping, was glaring at the man. He grinned shamefacedly at her. She reminded him of his own ma when he was a much younger lad . . . expecting his best manners no matter the situation. He gave a small bow and rephrased his question.

‘Mistress Bunce, I saw Zimzi going off in a cart with Merrimac. Could you tell me where she’s going?’ Derufin cocked one eye at Cook to see if she had softened.

Buttercup had by this time come into the kitchen and both of them he found, as he straightened up, were laughing at him. ‘She’s not been kidnapped, you great ninny! If that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Buttercup. ‘You asked to us to keep her from the cottage for a while,’ continued Cook. ‘I’ve sent her to a friend of mine’s burrow in Hobbiton. She’ll be quite busy there . . . doing a variety of things to get ready for the festivities.’

It was Derufin’s turn to laugh now. ‘And here I thought you would keep her occupied in the Inn.’ He sat down at the table and told the two Hobbits the garden he had contracted the young woman of Bree to do. Leaning across the table as he finished his explanation, he asked, in a hopeful tone, would Zimzi be coming back to the Inn at night.

Cook shook her head and smiled sympathetically at him. ‘Think of it this way, my dear . . . absence makes the heart grow fonder . . .’

With a long face, Derufin took his leave of the two Hobbits and went out to finish his meal . . .

Arry

08-21-2004, 08:16 PM

“Oh, aye, the Greenway. Right after the war I wouldna have gone down it myself. But it’s been twelve years now, and I’d wager that anywhere in the Shire is a safe place to go. I have to say that since Master Meriadoc and Master Peregrin came home to stay, and our own Master Gamgee, of course, the Shiriff’s have done a good job driving the undesirables from the Shire bounds.”

“Now outside the four farthings I wouldn’t think of traveling without my stout walking stick by my side. And to be honest I only go as far Bree, and that but once a year to visit my wife’s sister in Archet.”

Andwise signaled to one of the servers and asked for a mug of stout, sweet tea. “And bring the lady here what she’d like, if you please,” he added. His pipe had gone out and he spent a few moments fiddling with it, then relit it. The smoke from the bowl puffed upward in small rings, soon stretched out in the afternoon’s air and disappeared. “You know, though,” he said, a sudden memory coming back to him. “Just a short while ago one of our own Shiriff’s and an Elf from the Inn and a man from Rohan, or some such eastern place were here at the Inn. They’d come back from the lake north of the Shire. Nenuial, up there by the Evendim Hills – where that old city of men is . . . let me just think now . . .”

“Annuminas,” came the reply as Derufin sat himself down on the other side of Jinniver.

“That’s it! The High King’s city. Well, anyways, they went up there to rescue another fellow from Rohan. Terrible time they had of it, too. Some spawn of the Shadow in the East was there . . .” He shuddered as he recollected the telling of the tale. “They drove it off and all ended well, I heard. But it still scares the bejeebers off me that it was so near us.”

Taking out his pouch of pipeweed, Andwise offered some to the pensive Derufin who sat pushing his dessert about on his plate. “What about you, Stablemaster?” he asked. “You were in the war, I’ve heard tell. What’s your feelings about the Shire . . . safe or no . . .?”

Envinyatar

08-23-2004, 12:39 AM

Derufin waved the offer of pipeweed away. ‘I think I’ll just drown my sorrows in another dish of blackberry tart,’ he explained, pulling the pan of dessert toward him. Andwise tucked his pouch away into one of the pockets of his vest. Sitting back in his chair, he regarded the man with a bemused look as Derufin scooped a large portion of tart into his bowl and poured a generous splash of clotted cream over the top.

‘Alright, I’ll bite,’ asked Andwise. ‘What sorrows are you drowning?’

‘I’ve outfoxed myself, my friend,’ replied Derufin around a mouthful of crust and sweet berries. He waved his spoon in the air as he made his points. ‘I asked Buttercup to see if she could occupy Zimzi for the few days left until the handfasting . . . keep her away from the cottage while the flower beds were got in. Well, Buttercup came through for me. She engaged the help of Cook, and now my sweet Zimzi will not be seen, I’ve been told, until the ceremony. Away, she is . . . getting things done as needs be, or so Cook told me.’ He tapped his spoon irritably on the wooden tabletop. ‘My thinking is that they were just waiting for the opportunity to whisk her away. I’m betting it’s some sort of Halfling custom that they’ve sprung on me!’

A barely muffled giggled from behind him made Derufin spin about in his chair. Both Buttercup and Ruby stood there, shaking their heads at him. ‘Poor man!’ cried Buttercup. ‘He’ll live, though, don’t you think,’ commented Ruby in a decidedly unsympathetic tone. Derufin gave them both his most pitiful appearing face, but they only patted him on the cheek and laughed. ‘Best Cook not find you moping about, you know,’ whispered Buttercup as she whisked his empty dish away from him. ‘Elsewise, she’ll be finding “things” to fill in your time.’ Ruby nodded vigorously in agreement. ‘She’s got a long list to tick off . . .’

Derufin through up his hands in mock surrender. One of the Hobbit lads across the table, Tomlin, who had been taking in the exchange, passed a white handkerchief to Derufin, telling him to wave it. ‘You’re up against insurmountable odds, my friend. When the women want things a certain way, you might as well step back out of the path.’ Derufin grinned, shrugging his shoulders, and nodded in acquiescence as he waved the white handkerchief at the retreating serving maids.

Others of the serving staff had come out and began to clear away the dishes, pitchers of ale and cider and pots of hot tea were left on the table for the diners to enjoy. Pouring himself a mug of cold cider, Derufin leaned forward on his elbows toward Andwise. ‘What was it you asked? Something about do I think the Shire is safe or not.’ He took a sip of his drink, then set the mug carefully I front of him. ‘Safe enough, I think. Though, as with anything as ever has been touched with shadow, it’s best to err on the side of caution.’

He saw, as he finished speaking, Jinniver nodding her head in agreement.

Witch_Queen

08-23-2004, 06:33 AM

Adu's return

Adu road over the hill as her eyes caught sight of the beautiful Green Dragon Inn. It had been a while since she had layed eyes on it. To her failure she wasn't able to locate Hama. She had stayed on night in Rivendell before she left to return to the Shire. Nothing had changed at all. She wondered how everything was going with Crystal. She figured she would have to locate her. Adu reached down and began rubbing Count's mane. "You've done good my friend. Lets just hope Hama hasn't returned without us seeing him."

Adu jumped down off the saddle of her horse and began leading him to the stables. The walk seemed like only seconds had past but Adu wasn't going to let time fool her. "You deserve a long rest my dear friend." She walked back into the inn and noticed there was new faces. Adu walked to the front of the room. Even though the room seemed to be bursting with hobbits Adu wasn't going to let it affect her. "Now where would Aman be?" Adu didn't know what else to do so she decided to grab a glass of ale and sit by the fireside. It felt good to finally be back. There was only one question still in her mind. Where is Hama?

piosenniel

08-23-2004, 10:47 AM

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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

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.

piosenniel

08-23-2004, 10:48 AM

It is noon-time at the Green Dragon Inn. Lunch is being served, The fragrant scent of lamb stew is in the air, accompanied by the tantalizing aroma of blackberry tart.

The day is proving to be a fair one so far . . . no clouds on the horizon as yet.

Lalwendë

08-23-2004, 03:36 PM

Jinniver’s pale eyes had widened with fear when she heard Andwise mention the tale she had heard related in the inn on the previous evening. She had almost thought to herself that this tale had been a mere horror story, but from what Andwise said, it was plainly true. She kept hold of her knife, remembering the black dagger of the tale. Wherever this Annuminas was, it was too close for comfort. She told herself to be sure to include in her message a note to her father to remember to lock the kitchen door at bedtime.

She was shaken from her thoughts by the teasing of the hobbit lasses and welcomed the chance to giggle along with them, laughing aloud when Derufin was given a white handkerchief by one of the hobbit lads. Spotting the remains of the blackberry tart, she took another small helping for herself and listened as Derufin became serious once more.

‘Safe enough, I think. Though, as with anything as ever has been touched with shadow, it’s best to err on the side of caution.’ Jinniver nodded at what Derufin had to say. Nowhere, she thought, was this more true than in Bree.

“After those black riders had terrorised the Pony, I was been forbidden from going there alone. Certain…men…had already come to Bree, “she said haltingly, choosing her words carefully. “And they had gained our trust, difficult as that is with a Breelander. But we did not see that they were touched with shadow. And we were not cautious. It is all as the result of shadow that you see me here today.”

Jinniver gulped down a spoonful of the tart and had to wash it down with cider so she did not choke. Trying to steel herself after her awkward speech, she urgently said “But I hope there is no shadow on me. You don’t think that? Do you?”

Envinyatar

08-24-2004, 03:37 AM

“But I hope there is no shadow on me. You don’t think that? Do you?”

‘To be quite honest, for I see you ask that question in all earnestness, I cannot say one way or the other. I have not known you long or seen you often enough in your commerce with others.’ He leaned back in his chair, thoughtful as he looked at her. ‘You appear fair and your speech seems forthright. But appearances can deceive even the wisest of men. And I am far from wise.’ He looked consideringly at her, noting she did not flinch under his gaze. ‘I’m one to accept you at first meeting,’ he went on. ‘I’ll assume from the first that you are as you present yourself . . . I prefer to give you that chance. And from then on, either your actions will bear that out or they will show your true nature.’

Derufin pulled the pot of fireweed honey that had been left on the table near the teapot to him, helping himself to a generous spoonful of the sweet stuff for his own mug of tea. The sound of his spoon clinking against the sides of his mug as he stirred the honey in was loud in the quiet pause.

‘In some way, we all have some shadow on us,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘Or so I’ve come to believe. It’s how we handle the temptation the shadowy part of us is heir to that proves our mettle.’ He sipped at his tea as he considered his next words. ‘I should like to think that someone who works with the growing of plants, whose fingers sink deep into the dirt to help it bring forth the beauty of flowers . . . that this sort of someone is one to be relied on for their firmness of character, their integrity.’ He nodded toward Andwise. ‘As is someone whose hands craft wood or other materials with great skill and care . . .’ Derufin laughed, recalling the oft time criticism of his more cautious acquaintances. ‘Some say it is my folly . . . but I say it puts the burden where it belongs . . . on the other to show me the rightness of my trust by their actions.’

‘What “I” think is really of little importance . . . what you “do”, is . . .’

Derufin's chair scraped back from the table, and he stood up, offering her his hand in assistance. ‘But enough of this grave conversation!’ he grinned, blowing away the previous weighty words with a laugh. ‘What do you say we walk back to the cottage – you and Andwise and I? Have a look-see at the flowerbeds. See what you want to do with them. We have about six days to get things in order. And Master Proudfoot has offered the services of his two grandsons for the digging up of things and any heavy work you require. I’ll get Aman to set you up with a room in the Inn as a worker; Cook will see to it that your meals are provided.’

‘I am curious,’ he said as they ambled back toward the cottage. ‘Curious about something you said – “But we did not see that they were touched with shadow. And we were not cautious. It is all as the result of shadow that you see me here today.” What did you mean by this?’

Crystal Heart

08-24-2004, 08:23 AM

Crystal and Arty walked in to the Green Dragon, bothing hoping to see familiar faces after the long journey to and from Rohan. Crystal smiled as she saw Adu over by the fire. She went over and sat down in the chair across from her. Arty grabbed one of the chairs nearby and brought it forward.

"I had wondered why no one could find you to invite you to our wedding. You're looking for Hama aren't you?" Crystal said, catching her friend's attention.

Hama had been invited as well, but he had been too busy to come. They had been told that he was travelling somewhere. Crystal had only believed it would be to the Shire, but she hadn't been entirely sure.

"It is good to see you, Adu. How have you been?" Arty asked, smiling at her gently, remembering how she had just got up and left during the reunion some months back.

Witch_Queen

08-24-2004, 08:49 AM

"I've been good. I'm glad to see you. Hama is suppose to be on his way." Adu told them about her journey to Rivendell and how she didn't see Hama at all. "I have missed Hama the past few days. Count was exhausted when we arrived. The journey was too long for him, not to mention for me.I'm not as young as I use to be." Adu began to laugh. It seemed like forever since she had someone to talk to. Finally she had Crystal and Arty to be with while Hama was still away. There is only one thing I fear. Please dont' let Hama be hurt. Adu's smile disappeared and her gray eyes looked cold.

Adu began to think of all the possible reasons why Hama was no where to be seen. Could he be hurt? What if he needs help and no one is there for him? Oh Adu quit being such a worry-wart. He's going to be ok. He's a big boy. Realizing that she had missed out on part of the conversation Adu blinked her eyes and came back to the "real" world. "Sorry about that. So I hope the wedding was lovely. Crystal you should still be careful. On the way I over heard some of your fathers still faithfull companions. Your still in danger my child." Adu recalled how her discussion with her fathers companions went. How she told them Crystal was dead and not to worry about her "ruining" her fathers name.

"Luckily, I told them that I "took care of you". Those scum would believe anything. Then they heard from someone about your wedding. Oh well to bad for them." Adu stopped there,she wasn't going to talk about it anymore. "Crystal your still in danger even if you don't know it. There is always some one out there that blames you for the death of your father."

Hookbill the Goomba

08-24-2004, 09:04 AM

At that moment, an elf came into the inn. Little heed was taken of him as he walked briskly over to the bar and ordered a strong ale. When the drink was received he paid the bar tender with many gold coins, then, walking like one who has had many toils and wishes for rest, he made his way over to a small table and sat at it. He was kind of face, grey eyed, brown hair and wearing ranger like clothes. One looked at him and thought he looked well travelled, so to speak. He wore a long black hooded cloak, a sheath of odd make and a dark green tunic. On his feet were sturdy boots and on his back, a large pack laden with many things. His name was Fáinu, which is "Released" in the Qenta tong. In his left hand he held the mug of ale, but his right hand had an old bandage on it.

Always Fáinu was rather quiet, often keeping himself to himself, but would converse if approached, or it is a topic that interest or concerns him. However, most of all he enjoys jests if no one is offended.

In the past he has sometimes grown angered and heedless of peril and gone in strife with another, even if he/she was say a dragon and he would surly perish. Once upon a time he mad put down weapons when a friend and lord was grievously heart.

He was born in the year 1520 III, Dwelt in Rivendell for much of his young life, before becoming a scout and befriending many Rangers and often going abroad alone or in a small company on an errand or no. Both parents died in 2770 when Smaug descended on Erebor, destroying it and the neighbouring town of Dale as they were visiting at that time. Fáinu escaped barely by leaping into the river and hiding. Ever after regret eats his heart, but he hides it well. Leaving Dale when it was safe he came to the woodland realm and found the aid of the wood elves. Fáinu was not his right name, but he uses it thinking it more fitting, when he came back to Rivendell none recognised him, for much toil had come upon him and he named himself Fáinu and only Elrond and others with powers of perception saw in him his right name, but he bid them not speak it. His name of old was, Mánstarmin, "one who helps", and he thought it unfit.

Sitting at the table he peered into his mug and said nought. Soon he looked up and saw that many people were merrily drinking and having generally an enjoyable time, he smiled and sipped his drink.

Lalwendë

08-24-2004, 01:24 PM

Derufin’s words had been wise and Jinniver gained comfort from them. She had long thought that she had been touched by shadow, tainted by the past, but as he said, it was how a person acted that was the true test, and she had strived every day to be one of the good people.

On their way to inspect the flowerbeds, Derufin asked Jinniver what her halting speech about shadow had meant. She felt comfortable enough with her two new companions to say a little more, but she kept her head down all the same. It was still a painful memory and it was not so long ago.

“Before the Black Riders came, men came to Bree. They were not unlike us, though their manner of dress was somewhat foreign. At first, we avoided them, but soon we saw they wanted work, and lodging, and that they meant to stay. My father took on one young man as a hand on the farm and he became a friend to us, so much so that though I was young, we were betrothed quite soon. I was a silly thing, always dancing and singing. My head was full of dreams.

“My father said, and I thank the stars that he did this, that we must wait until we were both older before we were married. About that time the Riders passed through, and not long after came more men. My betrothed, he started to give me many gifts, urging me to go away and marry him. Something in me made me tell my brother about this, who told my father of course, and he turned out this…man” Jinniver did not want to say his name, that would be too much. “I did not see him again for some weeks.”

“One night, in the middle of the winter, myself and my father were woken by a gang shouting outside our farmhouse. They had flaming torches, and clubs, and they were brutish and drunken. I knew who they were, he was among them. ‘We are the masters now’ they shouted. ‘If you won’t give us this land then we are taking it’. My father, he came out in a fury. ‘Get you gone you ruffians!’ he shouted, and he made a run at them. He was still a lithe man at that time, but they were too many for him. They overpowered him, and had a knife at his throat, so out I came, grabbing the first thing I could find, my old hoe. I ran and took hold of the first man I could catch, throwing him to the ground. It was the man I had been going to marry.”

They had arrived at the cottage and Jinniver stopped a moment to look about her. This was a tale she did not like to think of, but it had still haunted her dreams ever since. It was a vivid tale to her, and her blood ran cold as she told it. She looked up and straight at Derufin and Andwise, fire in her eyes.

“I was shocked but I kept him pinned to the floor, his arms trapped under him. ’Release my father or this man dies’ I said. Of course they scoffed, so I swung the hoe about me using all the strength I had. Sharpened to a knife point it was, and I soon cut one of the men. He yowled like a dog, and they all shrank back into the darkness, dropping their weapons. I sat there until their voices had retreated far away. The man I had been going to marry, he had gone limp and lifeless and I tied his hands behind his back.

“My father and I, we left him in the road and packed all we could into our cart and rode into Bree as fast as we could go. And there we stayed through the winter while our farm was occupied. I saw the fight, and all those men were involved, but I did not see…him. When all was right again, and we returned to the farm, we found our crops spoiled and our nursery destroyed, and I forgot all about any dreams I might have had and set to work. I had to make amends, and that is why you see me here today. To earn a little more, that I might be able to give my old dad the retirement he deserves, and that he’d have had a long time ago, were it not for me being a silly girl.”

Jinniver looked away, and knelt to examine the old flowerbeds, gently handling a long forgotten rose which was struggling through the weeds. “This simple flower is worth more than dreams.” She sighed with relief and looked up, smiling at Andwise and Derufin. “That’s enough of dark and dramatic tales. You can be sure I will make you a fine little garden. I can already see what will flourish here, and that this will be a fair place.”

Nurumaiel

08-24-2004, 05:38 PM

'Bah,' said Marcho, after a brief pause had commenced. His eyes travelled the Common Room critically, and disapproval was written all over his face. His voice was particularly harsh, and it was enough to make even Blanco turn towards him surprise. 'Bah?' that neat and bold lad repeated.

'Yes,' said Marcho. 'What is the Shire coming to? Look, do you see all the Elves? And the Men? Do you see any Hobbits?'

'Yes,' said Blanco, more than a little surprised. 'I see you, Marcho, and I see Bingo, and Peony, and...'

Marcho interrupted him with a growl, but Peony smiled in a gentle way. 'Don't you think, Marcho, that most hobbits adore to see Elves and Men in the Inn? This is one of the only places in the Shire they can be seen; I am full of wonderment at the sight of the Fair Folk. And to see the Elves, Men, and Hobbits speak with each other, in such a companiable way! Does it not strike you as sweet?'

'You strike me as sweet, Peony,' said Blanco, smiling fondly at his sister. Marcho said nothing but he grunted his lasting disapproval. Conversation once again drifted away, and in silence they waited for the return of Lily and Posco. Blanco was beginning to fidget restlessly in his chair.

Primrose Bolger

08-24-2004, 11:21 PM

Her kitchen duties were done for the moment, or at least until Cook noticed she’d gone off for a look about the Inn and called her back. Ginger Gamwich wandered out into the Common Room and nosed about here and there. Listening in a bit on conversations, watching the curious folk who had come to the Green Dragon that day.

A brown haired Elf sat at a table holding a drink in his hand. He’d thrown his black cape over the table and sipped from his mug as he looked about the room. At another table three Hobbits glanced about the Common Room, two of them with smiles on their faces and one with a quite disapproving look. I wonder what that’s all about? she thought to herself as she crossed the room and went out doors.

The day was lovely. Ginger picked a daisy from the bush at the base of the porch steps and tucked it behind her ear. The pretty, star-shaped flower was nestled in, in a fetching way, among her red curls. Following the little pebbled path around to the back of the Inn, she arrived just in time to see some of the servers clearing away a table that had been set up in the shade of the oak tree. Some of the fellows seated at table had already gotten up, among them was Derufin, whom she’d met earlier, walking along with a woman she did not recognize.

Oh, and there just getting up from the table was someone she knew. Mister Banks, it was. Andwise Banks. Ginger stepped toward him, waving as he noticed her . . .

Hookbill the Goomba

08-25-2004, 07:13 AM

Peering about the room, Fáinu saw upon the wall a picture of a Dragon and was filled with sadness. He looked at his right hand and moved the fingers, looking again into his mug again he began to think back to the day when Smaug had attacked. But thence he heard the sound of laughter, a joke had been told at a nearby table and the roars of laughter startled him.

Over by the fire Fáinu saw another sitting alone. It was Aduthondiel, and he thought he had spent too long alone, and so went to greet here. Slowly he got up and drained his mug, but there was a bitter taste in it and he shook his head. Going to the fire he pulled up a chair.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked, Aduthondiel made not answer but put out her arm in a gesture of acceptance. “I tire of being alone, and wish for converse.”
Fáinu looked about the room and saw that a few hobbits were looking curiously at him and so quickly he turned back to Aduthondiel.

"Greetings, I am Fáinu, and I have come from Imaladris." he said sitting down, "Whom, prey, art thou?"
He placed his pack under the chair and sat back, the fire was warm, but often he looked away from it, as there was a fear in his heart and the screams of Dale oft came to haunt him.

Saurreg

08-25-2004, 08:19 AM

“Have you seen much of the Shire since your arrival?” enquired Gwenneth. Her voice was soft and elegant, yet timbre rich at the same time. It was as rich as the finest of silks.

Ascasir swallowed the contains in his mouth quickly and replied in haste,

"Nay, milady. I have not,"

Ascasir placed his spoon down on the knot-filled wooden table, picked up a piece of napkin and dabbed his lips gingerly. He then turned his head towards the Sindar and continued to talk with steely grey eyes fixed intently on her,

"I crossed the Isen and entered Enewaith but just five nights ago. From there I made a pilgrimage to Lond Daer and tarried yonder for two days, marveling at the stoneworks of the men of old. I then continued my journey north crossing Gwathló the Mighty, and transversed the wide green plains of Minhirath where the tall grass danced to the breath of Manwë; that part of my journey costed me another two days worth of travelling time. It was only last night that I entered the land of the Periannath and now, here I am."

Ascasir Culcollo ended with a slight melodramatic bow, meant to tease the beautiful elven maiden. He picked up his mug of tea and took a long sip.

Witch_Queen

08-25-2004, 08:37 AM

"I am Aduthondiel, my last name I can't even remember. You may call me Adu. Everyone else does." Adu looked over to the table of hobbits. "Disgusting little critters aren't they. Oh well they have yet to harm any let them live." Adu's words were cold, colder perhaps than she had first meant them. It had been so long since she had talked with an elf. She mostly talked with Crystal, Arty and Hama when he was around. "Forgive me. I am not very good company right now."

Adu heard a familar sound as the large white crow landed on her shoulder. "Well good evening Avalon. Where might Cree be?" Adu turned around and saw Cree walked through the front door. Suddenly the pressure on her shoulder was released. Avalon gave her greeting and then left Adu and Fáinu. "Imaladris? Oh I remember my last time journeying through Imaladris. So what brings you to the Shire, Fáinu?" Adu smiled and finally set back in her chair. The fireplace gave her the feeling of being back in Rohan.

Adu leaned forward in her chair as she took a sip of her ale. She remembered the last ale she had drank was before she left the Green Dragon. Yet even now she still couldn't get use to the last mouthful and the stinging it made in the back of her throat.

Hookbill the Goomba

08-25-2004, 09:19 AM

Lifting his head, Fáinu took heed of that Adu was saying. He thought back to the last time he was in Imladris, that was a fair memory, as it was the place of his childhood, but now it was seldom full of bliss since Elrond left.

"I was sent to the havens with a message for Cirdan," he said to Adu, "Now my errand is complete, I came here to see if the tales are true. They do say that the Shire folk are a kind breed whom offer aid. So far I have found little but scorn and distrust."

Fáinu looked into Adu's eyes and saw some sorrow, or regret of he knew not what. A hobbit walked to the fire and put a kettle over it and then walked back to the kitchen, as he did this, he had given a queer look at Fáinu. Laughter and the sound of merriment was in abundance, yet this did not cheer Fáinu, the name of the inn and the images of dragons gave him unpleasant thoughts.

"Have you ever seen the fair valley of rivendel?" He asked breaking the silence and looking up once more, "Not many visit these days, Elrond used to be a most respectable host, and now he is gone, few see it as refuge. Indeed I have hear that the same is said of Lorien since the white lady left, if the stories are true."

Fáinu peered around the room and saw many Hobbits who had suddenly taken an interest in him. Fáinu looked at one who was whispering something to another and had an ill favoured look.

Arry

08-25-2004, 10:22 AM

Tomlin, Fallon, Gil, and Ferrin had gotten up from the table and were in the process of ambling back to the cottage worksite. Ferdy hailed them with a ‘Wait up, you lot!’ and ran to catch up with them. Tomlin turned round to see who had called to them, a grin spreading on his face as he spied Andwise, still standing by the table. ‘Well, Ferdy! Look who your Da is talking to!’

The entire group, including Ferdy, halted and looked back. There was Mister Banks listening to some Hobbit lass. Blue dress and bright red curls . . . a familiar smile on her face . . . it was Ginger! A flush crept slowly up Ferdy’s neck, not unnoticed by his companions.

‘Know who Ferdy’ll be dancing with at the party, don’t we?’ chided Fallon in a good-natured way. ‘Wouldn’t mind a dance with her myself,’ he mumbled to himself. A small glare from Ferdy elicited a hasty retraction of the statement.

Gil smoothed things over between the two, and offered up his ideas for who his ideal dance partners would be – Lily and Sandy, he thought, and perhaps a dance with Primrose, if she’d have it. And if not, then Rowan or Blossom or both would do nicely for a spin about the floor. ‘Little cock-a-hoop!’ cried Ferrin. ‘You mean to have all the pretty lasses under your spell!’ Tomlin and Fallon joined in with their short list and soon the fair points of all the lasses in Bywater and Hobbiton were being discussed.

‘Ahem!’ The sound startled the five fellows as they stood in a tight ring. It was Andwise, himself heading back to the cottage at the edge of the Inn grounds. ‘Chattering like magpies,’ he commented as he motioned them to fall in with him. ‘Work won’t get done that way,’ he said in a serious tone of voice. He laughed as their faces fell at his mild scolding.

‘And if the work’s not done, the party will be put off . . .’

Andwise laughed aloud to see their pace pick up . . .

Nurumaiel

08-25-2004, 04:06 PM

A little chuckle escaped from Blanco. Marcho turned sourly towards him, but he was not disheartened by the cold look. Rather he made a small gesture to the Elves sitting at a table not far from them. 'They're looking at you, Marcho,' he said. One of the Elves glanced at them again and Blanco waved with a cheery smile, winking. Marcho snorted.

'What does one think of when one looks at an Elf?' Peony murmured dreamily. Bingo's eyes were shining.

'Everything beautiful in the world,' he said. 'You think of the wind in the trees, and the sun shining on a softly rippling lake, and you think of the grass waving amid the wildflowers, and the starlight over a flowered glade, and of singing and dancing in the sun. You think of rivers running through valleys of green, and of the musical notes of the birds rising in the clear air, and of the deer standing still and graceful, and the golden glory of the sun's rising.'

Marcho bestowed a gracious look upon Bingo. Blanco ran his hand back and forth on the table, staring woefully at the door. He hadn't seen his brother since morning, and he hadn't seen Lily since last night. He wanted to see both of them again, and he reluctantly admitted that he missed Posco more. He was worried for him, too. 'When will they come back?' he said. 'What will happen to Posco, out there all alone? Back home he never went out riding unless I went with him. What if he falls and hurts himself? He's just a little child.'

'Ridiculous,' said Marcho. 'If he's a little child, so are you. You're exactly the same age.'

Blanco looked indignant. 'That is not so. One of us is a few minutes older; I think it's me.' He went back to his moaning. 'Oh, poor Posco,' he said. 'What will happen to him? I miss him so much.'

'I always heard that twins couldn't bear to be apart,' said Marcho, 'and every set I've met can manage being alone for awhile. There's something wrong with you, Blanco.'

Once again Blanco was indignant. 'There's something wrong with them,' he said. 'Who could get along without their dearest friend and brother?' And he gazed wistfully at the door. Still there was no sign of the two riders.

the real findorfin

08-25-2004, 06:01 PM

The horse slowed to a trot as the inn came into sight and Fin sighed. The sign of the Green Dragon swang slowly above the door, a welcome memory to the elf after his journey. It felt like an age since he had last stepped over the threshold of this particular inn and it felt good to be back. He remembered his first visit, some years ago when it had been Dwarin who had run the establishment. His first visit had been his fondest, for he had met a good friend, a fellow elf named Celebmornie. On his subsequent journeys, the owners may have changed but the Green Dragon felt as welcome as it ever had, with its quaint setting in the Shire and its large fireplace and full common room.

Fin grinned as his horse stopped outside and he dismounted, handing the reigns to a stablehobbit. The Hobbit-folk always found time to sit and drink, whether during the harvest when crops were to be had, or when the snow sank in thick drifts and logs were needed. No, the hobbits always seemed to manage.

He pushed the doors open and scanned the commonroom with a quick encmpassing glance. Ever changing, the enhabitants of the Inn were unknown to him, but he wondered if Aman was to be found. He hoped she at least would remember him, the dashing elf of Eryn Lasgalen. He strode confidently across the room and leant on the bartop. He hailed the first maid he saw, an unknown hobbitlass and asked, "where can Aman be found? Is she on the premises? Tell her an old friend has returned, wondering if she still remembers him?"

Envinyatar

08-26-2004, 01:34 AM

From his vantage point on the cottage roof, Derufin kept tabs on the work going on below. Jinniver had found the gardener’s shed near the Inn’s kitchen garden and with the help of Gil had brought back what she needed to prepare the flower beds for planting. Gil, upon his return, had resumed his place on the hammer and nail team for the new room being added. Ferrin was his partner in this, while Tomlin and Fallon did the measuring and sawing of the lumber. Below, in the kitchen area, the steady ebb and flow of conversation between Andwise and his son, Ferdy, let Derufin know that the cabinetry and window frames were coming apace.

For his part, Derufin restarted his work on the roof. The patchwork was done on the main part of the shingling over the original areas of the cottage. He’d hauled up lumber for the base roofing for the new addition, and now he began hammering it into place. Once done, he would spread a coat of pitchy tar to seal all the seams. Then, tomorrow, he would begin the shingling.

He called down to Tomlin who was just setting another piece of wood on the saw-horses. ‘Send me up a bucket of water and a tin mug, if you would,’ he said, lowering a thin rope to the ground. ‘It’s hot up here and bound to be hotter as the afternoon wears on. A little something to keep me from being parched out would be nice.’ Tomlin obliged with a grin, and soon the bucket was secured in the shade of the eaves. Derufin waved his thanks to the Hobbit and returned to the task at hand . . .

Witch_Queen

08-26-2004, 06:33 AM

"I have spent the last few nights in Rivendell. Though it seems like I should not have left." Adu glanced over at the hobbits and noticed the smile one of them had on their face. "Rivendell reminds me of the home I left many years ago. I haven't seen Eryn Lasgalen long since Elessar came to the throne of Gondor. Instead I have found home amongst the men of Rohan." Adu missed her old and "new" home all together. She didn't want to think about all the years before this moment in time. She was back amongst elves even though it was only one she was still glad to be with her own kind.

"It seems like our little "admirers" can't stop looking over here. Should we go say hi?" Adu shook her head at the sight of the hobbits smile. She didn't want to associate with the hobbits but then again she didn't want to offend them. She ran her hand through her loose black hair after placing her empty mug on a near by table. It was all Adu could do to keep from laughing.

Hookbill the Goomba

08-26-2004, 06:44 AM

Fáinu glanced over at the Hobbits that had been looking at them. He shook his head and frowned.

"I think, perhaps, they see in me the face of my Brother." he said "He used to come here with Gandalf the grey. Although the last time he came was in 2941 of the third age. That, I am told is when the infamous Bilbo Baggins was sent on his perilous quest. Perhaps they see me as suspicious, and a causer of trouble."

Fáinu looked again at the Hobbits, one peered back at him and scowled. Another got up and left the inn muttering something, Fáinu looked down at the floor and then to the fire. However, he swiftly he withdrew his glance from it.

"Dragons," he muttered under his breath, almost scoffing, "hate them."

Adu looked intently at him when he said this, but said nought. Fáinu glanced up at here and smiled. A Hobbit came and retired the now whistling kettle and went into the kitchen shouting abuse at another.

"Pleasant creatures," said Fáinu as the Hobbit dashed into the kitchen, "Who knew they had such colourful tongs?" he smiled and then looked at his right hand, the bandage was rotten and filthy, it needed changing, but he dared not for fear that the scars he bore under it would bring back unpleasant memories.

Witch_Queen

08-26-2004, 08:41 AM

Adu noticed something wasn't right. For some reason it seemed like he was hiding something from her."Fáinu, what happened to your right hand?" She noticed that the bandage was in need of desperate change. She looked up at the elf. The look on his face told it all. "Forgive me. I did not mean to be asking about something that is none of my business. I'm sorry." Adu remembered the last time she asked someone about an injury. Dorian had locked her up for a few days in her room.

Old memories seemed to haunt Adu lately. She couldn't seem to get it out of her head. Why would she remember a dead tyrant like Dorian. He no longer had a hold on her or her life. "Fáinu, you should get those bandages replaced." Adu reached to the pack setting beside her. "Here let me see it. I won't hurt you at all." While she was in her pack, Adu grab a piece of Lembas bread before sticking a piece in her mouth. She made a gesture of ofference. "Want some?" Adu smiled and her eyes "sparkled". For once in her life she was actually happy to be around another elf. Perhaps his story isn't as different from mine. Perhaps his past isn't full of nothing but torture and deception.

Hookbill the Goomba

08-26-2004, 09:34 AM

Fáinu looked sad and depressed. He looked at his right hand and shook his head.

"I am not hungry," answered Fáinu, "But thank you." he looked at the fire again, but did not turn away. It was as if he was trying to remember things he had blocked out.

Adu munched on her lembas as Fáinu hung his head and thought. Then he lifted his eyes and looked at her.

"Not for a long time have I spoken of this," he said sadly "This is a wound that will never heal." He began to untie his bandage and there she saw his hand was grievously burned, almost to the bone. "Many years ago I went to visit my parents in Dale. It was a joyous time until the dragon Smaug came."

Adu looked Fáinu in the eyes and she saw fear in him. She did not like the look of his hand and turned her face from it when he revealed it.

"The Dragon burned everything, but I took it on myself to aid in the battle against him." Fáinu shook his head, "That was foolish. I saw across the plain the Dragon, laughing and burning. I looked him in the eye!"

Adu was startled; she knew well that it was perilous to look in the eyes of a dragon. For oft they will place upon one, a Dragon spell.

"For a time I distracted him. Our wills strove and for what seemed to me like an age. I thought I had the upper hand. But the Dragon was too cunning. He put forth his power and I was set like one who is made of stone." Fáinu looked at his hand clenched his fist, "He then came to me, burning as he went.
'Who art thou?' he asked me, I needed not to answer, for he read my thoughts, 'thou art of the house of Elrond?' he scoffed and mocked my kin. 'One who has such strong will should not be here; thou should be with thine kin and protecting them from my fire. Or art thou too conscious of the minstrels, who would sing of thee if thou woludst defeat me?'

He laughed and cursed all elven folk. He put forth his power and said 'Now thou shalt here my curse upon thee. One who has strove with my will. Never shall any wound fully heal, and pain shall remain with you till the end of days! But I shall let you, solely of this place, live to tell of it. Yes, in this I shall be remembered, I shall be a-like to Galurng, the father of our kin, who showed mercy to Turin. I shall be remembered, never shall it be said that the servants of the dark one know not pity and respect for our foes.' then my father came and smote the dragon in the face, but it was to no avail.

"I was released from my standing place and filled with fear, and knowing not where I was, leaped into the water. Then I saw my mother and father standing together on the banks, they held out their arms to help me out of the water. But the Dragon came behind them, I tried to shout, but no sound came from me."

Fáinu held out his hand and looked at it. He sighed and then looked back at Adu.

"I put out my arm to point behind them, to try and warn them" he said, "But it was too late, the dragon blew his fire and I had to watch them being consumed by it. The fire also scorched my hand, and I have ever after born this scar. The wounds caused by Dragon fire, seldom heal, and the curse he laid on me, true or fained, seems to have held to this at least."

Adu was amazed and a few other Hobbits who had listened to this tale sat silently and peered intently at the elves. Some scoffed and said;

"Silly old tales form afar." and were met with agreeing mumbles from surrounding hobbits. Fáinu sat back in his chair and put the bandage back on.

"I have born this bandage from the Elven homes in what was then Mirk wood." Fáinu rapped it around his hand carefully, Adu saw that although the outside of it was filthy, the inside was white and seemed to glimmer in the dim light. "So far it has dimmed the pain, but not removed it."

Fáinu tried to smile and looked at Adu, he peered into her eyes and saw again the regret that was in her. At this he wondered much.

"Lady, I see that something troubles you." He said at last, "I have told you my hurt, will you not tell me yours?"

Fáinu lent forward to listen to her answer. He drew his cloak about him and looked at her intently.

starkat

08-27-2004, 06:20 AM

Gwenneth smiled at Ascasir as he bowed. Temporarily at a loss for something to say, she took a sip of her cider and looked around the room. She watched a new elf come in and take a seat.

Isilmë cleared his throat and Gwenneth turned back to her companions and apologize. “I did not mean to let my mind wander like that. Please forgive me. Since it sounds like both you have not seen much of the Shire, why don’t we go riding? I have yet to take my mare out today and the weather appears to be nice."

Witch_Queen

08-27-2004, 06:37 AM

Adu looked at him. My hurt? She wasn't sure which problem she should tell him about. "Its a long story. One that may take a while. Fáinu, I was fell victim to an evil tyrant which luckily is now dead. It all happened many years ago. You could almost say I was too young to know better. I allowed my heart to choose what I did. My father wasn't even as good as he claimed." She went on to tell Fáinu about her journey from what was then Mirkwood to Rohan. "I traveled at night and didn't worry about sleeping during the day. When I arrived in Rohan I had over-heard someone talking about the "shield-maiddens". So of course I just had to try something new. I hid my identity. For I was afraid of what would happen if they knew I was an elf." Adu paused. Yes but I even hid myself from me.

"You could almost say I didn't even know myself when I finished. I learned to use the sword and bow. Finally General Dorian took me under his wing. He was like the father I always wanted." She talked about the love she had for him and his children. To her they were just like her own. While Adu was in Dorian's "army" she met a man named Jack Sloll. He took control of her heart and then abandoned her when she needed him the most. "I woke up and he was gone. No note, no nothing. It was as if he was never there. Then Dorian blamed me for Jack's leaving. I ended up spending a week with the children and wasn't allowed to leave the house. It was like a prison. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months and the months became years. I fought by Dorian's side. It didn't matter, I would die for him."

Adu stopped for a moment. Her throat was dry and all she needed was to wet it a little. So she got up and walked to the counter, grabbed another mugg of ale before going back to her seat. "Finally Dorian and his daughter Crystal was at odds. She left home and came to the Shire. Unlucky me was sent after her. Dorian gave me my horse, my sword, my life and now he expected me to take the life of his daughter. I couldn't so we faked her death. Dorian was going to come to the Shire to take my horse and everything he gave me away. Fortunately he was killed. Now I am waiting on my old companion to return from Rohan. Perhaps now there will be a general in Rohan worthy of my sword." A tear rolled down Adu's cheek before she made the attempt to wipe it away. It escaped her hand and continued to roll. "There, Fáinu, now you know my troubles. Now you know my pain. Physical pain can sometimes go away but when it comes to the emotions of my kind, I would rather be dead instead of living my life knowing my life and emotions was stolen away from me."

Hookbill the Goomba

08-27-2004, 07:09 AM

Fáinu sat a while in silence, not sure of how to react to this tale of grief and misery. He sat back in his chair and thought, the crackle of the fire seemed to be growing to an eerie echo in his mind and he looked unhappy.

"Physical pain, can go away," he echoed, "But grief will not. Still in my dreams the words of the Dragon and the screams of Dale go on, gnawing at me. But now, I am rambling."

Fáinu smiled at her hoping to cheer her, he knew how hard it was to retrieve old hurts from afar. He knew, if a little, of the pain she bore. For he had to watch his family being consumed in flame, and that was a nightmare that marred his sleep.

"What do you plan to do now?" he asked, though he knew he could not answer if she asked the same of him, "I wish that I could go back to the house of Elrond, but something draws me away, and it is not longing for the sea."

Adu sat quite still, this slightly surprised Fainu, for on many occasions where he had mentioned the sea, elves would become mournful and regain their longing. She perhaps had too many hurts and did not believe that there was healing in Aman, or maybe, she had been told false stories of it. He could not tell.

Fáinu got up and asked for another drink form the bar, he received one and sat back down by the fire. He drank a little and then sat back, the sound of Hobbit talk seemed to be growing. A few were getting drunk and singing. Adu smiled a little at this as some acted foolishly. Fáinu leaned forward and looked at her.

"Where do you live now if not in Rohan?" he asked, "Here in the Shire?"

She at first made no answer; perhaps she was distracted a little by the merriment and silly behaviour of the surrounding Hobbits. The sounds of an argument could be heard in the kitchen, Still the Hobbit was being told off for forgetting about the kettle.

Witch_Queen

08-27-2004, 08:44 AM

"Where do you live now if not in Rohan?" Fáinu asked, "Here in the Shire?" Adu sat there silent. Though she knew none but few felt the way she did. "I live no where now. I'm only staying here for a short time. Rohan is no longer my home." Her words echoed in her heart. But Rohan is everything I have now. "The sea only tells me to stay away. For I am not worthy to be around the glory of the elves. Why leave a world that still needs me?" The only thing Adu knew was that her father had left these lands and she wasn't wanting to join him. "I could never live in the Shire. Too much merriment for me. After all it only reminds me of how gloomy my life is already. Why should I be reminded of it all? Why should I be tortured everyday?" Her words were swallowed up by the sounds in the room.

What once was a whisper had become a full out right shout. Adu could choose to leave and go some where else, but where would that be. She feared staying in a place for too long. Adu slipped her hand in her pocket and felt of the ring her friend had given her. Jack had left her once and then came back to her. The only thing was... Jack had changed and Adu didnt' know him any more. Why should I suffer while everyone else gets to be happy? What is left for me in this life? Do I just stand around and do nothing but soak up my undieing defeat? I have got to do something now. I can't just setting her moping.

Adu looked down into her mug. The ale reflected her face. For once in her long life Adu finally saw the scars she had acquired. These were not physical scars these were the scars on her heart. "My heart is probably dead to everything," Adu figured Fáinu had over heard her words. "After all who can keep their own heart from withering away? I have seen my own "friends" find happiness in others. For me I do not believe that is so easily accomplished." Adu looked up at Fáinu and smiled. "Oh forgive me I am going on and on about my troubles. Few care and then again few do care at all about me."

Hookbill the Goomba

08-27-2004, 09:13 AM

"Come," said Fáinu, "That cannot be true, what of Crystal? For I perceive that she was a dear friend. Surely she cares for you?"

Fáinu wanted to encourage her; he did not like to see any elf so sad and gloomy, even though he knew the same was in him. She stared into the fire and Fáinu once again withdrew his glaze from it. A few hobbits began to sing and dance on top of tables; they sung silly songs about ale and climbing over hills.

"Think yourself lucky," Fáinu said at length, "You have companions, I have not known good company for a long time. Once I rode forth with Elodan and Elrohir, but that was long ago, and I have not seen them for a long time. I doubt even if they would recognise me."

Adu looked still into the fire; as if some concern had suddenly dawned on her. Fáinu wished he could help, but knew that he would probably make things worse. He knew not his place in the world, now that Smaug was dead; he saw no means to go on living. Before he had thought to gain revenge on Smaug for the destruction of lands and the murder of his family. When news of Bard's victory came to him, he was struck as one who has a stone thrown at them. The pain in his mind was dimmer when Smaug died, indeed, Fáinu knew the very hour that it happened for the pain on his mind was lifted a little.

Yea, Sorrow never dies, and if one has companions, it is dimmed to a mere flicker in the dark, but when one is alone, it grows.

His thought trailed off, as he looked about the room, the sun was streaking through the round windows and many Hobbits were leaving to get on with duties elsewhere. Fáinu became aware that Adu looked to have dimmed her sorrow for now and was smiling lightly.

piosenniel

08-28-2004, 01:54 PM

NOTICE OF TIME CHANGE COMING FOR THE INN

Tomorrow, late Sunday Pacific Time U.S., I'll turn time forward a little in the Inn.

It will be nearing evening and suppertime.

Until then, please finish your interactions that take part during this day in the Inn.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

Arry

08-28-2004, 01:56 PM

The afternoon passed in a pleasing manner for Andwise. His small, thick-fingered hands, moved easily over the cabinet facings – taking off the old paint, smoothing out rough patches, filling in dents. Each one, when done and declared ready by him, was lined up against the side of the cottage away from where the addition was going on. Ferdy, would then take them up two at a time, to the saw-horse table he’d put together for himself, and sand them even more finely, then would come the stain and finally the rubbing of each to a soft luster.

By the end of the day, they should have the cabinets all done. Tomorrow, Ferdy could begin work on the window and doorway mouldings. They were in fair repair and shouldn’t take long. Andwise, as he worked along in his methodical manner, had begun thinking already of the main door to the cottage. It was a thick oaken door – but as plain and serviceable as its former owner. It wouldn’t do, he thought, for the stablemaster and his new bride. Andwise whistled a bright little jig as his hands moved over the wood before him and his mind moved over the design that had begun to form in his mind.

Nurumaiel

08-28-2004, 02:31 PM

As luncheon ended the door to the Inn opened and Posco and Lily entered, looking well-pleased. Both had flushed faces and sparkling eyes, and while Posco's wind-blown hair didn't look too unnatural it was a little odd to see Lily's hair in such a mess. Blanco gave a cry and flung himself across the room, throwing his arms about Posco and saying, 'Oh, I've missed you so much! I'm so glad you're not hurt! I'm so glad to see you again! I'm so glad!'

Posco slowly coloured and glanced around the room, and murmured in an agitated whisper, 'Please, Blanco, don't hug me in front of everybody. I'm glad to see you, too.' He patted his brother's shoulder and carefully extracted himself from the grip. Blanco stepped back, grinning madly, smoothed his hair out of his eyes, and bowed to Lily. 'Miss Lily, I trust your ride was enjoyable?'

'Very,' she said, and she smiled at Posco. A shadow passed briefly over Blanco's face, but soon his eyes were shining again as he led them both to their table. 'Miss Lily,' he said, 'may I present my sister, Peony, and Donnamira, a little friend of ours.' There was an exchange of greetings, and then everyone sat easily at the table. Blanco sat next to Posco, one arm about his brother's shoulder.

'Well,' said he, looking from one to the other. 'Perhaps you would like a late luncheon, and then when evening comes we can sit by the fire and you can tell us of what you did on the ride. We'll let you think it over now, though.'

Hookbill the Goomba

08-28-2004, 02:38 PM

After long converse about hurt, pain and much suffering, Fáinu felt reluctant to leave. It was long since he had had good company, he enjoyed to talk with Adu and did not want to leave, but he knew he must. Sorrowfully he rose and forced a smile.

"I am sorry Adu," he said at last, "I must depart now and perhaps come to Imladris, as I was asked to return after my errand was complete. Wither are you bound?"

Adu made no reply but looked sorrowfully into the fire. He had wished so long for company, and Adu seemed to have enjoyed his company.

"If you have no bonds," He said, "When your companions are here, will you consider following me thither?" He peered about the room nervously, as if he expected attack. "I must leave now and seek Dwaline. A dwarf whom I met on my way to the grey havens, I will return in the evening. Will you still be here?"

Adu turned and smiled, Fáinu smiled back and departed. He walked briskly to the door and opened it; two Hobbits rushed passed him and nudged him as he departed.

Primrose Bolger

08-28-2004, 02:38 PM

Ginger gave a little wave to Mister Andwise as he headed off toward the Inn’s old grounds-keepers’ cottage. She turned away quickly as she saw the five lads looking her way, a small smile on her face. Ferdy had sneaked a quick look her way, then hung his head before she caught his eye. He was sweet on her, she could tell, though he barely spoke to her when her ma would send her over with plum conserve for his old gammer that lived with them.

A mumbled ‘hullo’ was as far as they’d gotten in conversation recently. But she noticed that on Highday (Friday) after market, when her ma would send her by with a basket packed with a small pot of conserve and two loaves of braided bread, that the curtains would twitch, as if someone were watching, and the door would fly open at the barest of knocks. Gammer Banks would be standing there, a smile on her wrinkled face and a gleam in her bright brown eyes. And there holding the door open, half hidden behind it, would be Ferdy, his eyes fixed on anything but Ginger. Old Mistress Banks had taken to tapping him with her cane and telling him to greet their guest. But as she’d noted earlier, the greeting was limited to a low voiced ‘Hullo’ on his part and no amount of pleasant rejoinders on Ginger’s part could urge any further words from him.

Once, on an especially shy day, when she’d worn a blue ribbon in her curls and the new blue skirt and white blouse her ma had made her, he’d been completely tongue-tied and had fled the room before she could say anything back to him. Gammer Banks had eyed his retreating form and shook her head. ‘Hard nuts to crack, these Banks boys,’ she confided to Ginger, seeing the hurt look on the girl’s face. A grin had split the old woman’s face, then, and drawing closer to Ginger has whispered. ‘But well worth the trouble lass!’

From the Inn’s kitchen back door, she heard Buttercup calling to her. Cook wanted help with supper, Ginger was told, as she trudged into the Inn. Ruby and Buttercup were finishing up the cleaning of the upstairs rooms. Ginger would have to be the one to assist Cook tonight.

Nodding her head at Buttercup, Ginger took her apron off the peg by the door and tied it round her. There were scrubbed taters from the garden to be quartered, she saw, in a pile on the kitchen drainboard.

With a sigh, she picked up the paring knife where it hung on a nail on the wall and began attacking the task with vigor.

piosenniel

08-28-2004, 03:41 PM

‘Have mercy, lass! Those poor taters have done nothing to you! You’re at them like Master Peregrin and Master Meriadoc taking after those ruffians at the Battle of Bywater!’ Cook eased the paring knife from Ginger’s grip and took the mangled tuber from her other hand. ‘And what’s this,’ she asked in a gentler tone, wiping the fat tears from the girl’s red cheeks with a corner of her apron. ‘These aren’t onions you’re chopping. What’s got the wind up you?’

Now it had been quite some time since Cook had comforted a sobbing young Hobbit, but once her arms had gone round the girl it all came back to her. Words wouldn’t do now, she recalled, clucking her tongue sympathetically as the sniffling explanation came out in spurts and starts and garbled phrases. The old story . . . her own daughters had gone through it themselves. ‘Sometimes, I wonder,’ she thought to herself as she patted the lass on the back and offered her a clean handkerchief from her apron pocket, ‘sometimes, I do wonder how we manage to go on and keep the Shire populated. ‘Course if it were up to the men folk, they’d be spending all their time at the Inn, lining up their mugs instead of home tending to family things. Need handling, the most of them. Leastways that my ma taught me.’

The tears and snuffled statements were winding down now. Ginger was at the hiccoughing stage of being angry and frustrated. Cook led her to a chair and sat her down. She fetched a cold mug of water and a wet cloth to clean away the streaky tracks left by the tears. Once the girl had got a modicum of composure back, Cook fetched her a cup of hot tea with honey and sat down with her.

‘The taters can be done later,’ she said as the puffy-eyed Ginger looked guiltily toward the waiting pile.’ She took a drink from her own mug of the steamy brew and sitting it down on the table top, leaned forward resting her crossed arms on the top, too.’

‘Now, tell me, Mistress Gamwich,’ said Cook in a kindly, but firm, voice. ‘Have you discussed this with your ma? And what has she told you, girl?’

Primrose Bolger

08-30-2004, 02:17 AM

‘Oh, Miz Bunce,’ sniffed Ginger, twisting the wet hanky in her hands. ‘Me mum’s too busy to sort out my problems! There’s another little one on the way and my two younger sisters to see to. And Lily, my older sister, is expecting her fifth little one, too.’ Ginger took a gulp of her water before going on. ‘I’m in half a mind that she sent me here to help you to get me out of her hair for a while . . . and in hopes that I’ll meet someone at the dance who’ll take me on in a permanent manner, if you catch my drift.’ Ginger heaved a sigh, letting her shoulders slump in a hopeless manner at the end of it.

It was not that she was a bad girl, or that her mother disliked her. If anything her mother was simply indifferent . . . overwhelmed and indifferent. Peony Gamwich, originally a Millbank from Pincup, had always been of ‘delicate’ temperament. Ten children and another on the way had simply pushed her over the edge. She had barely enough energy to deal with the demands of Ginger’s younger sisters and once the new baby was here, Ginger would be beyond her scope of reckoning altogether. There was no point in turning to her older sister, Lily, for advice and help – she’d enough on her plate with little ones of her own. And the others of her older siblings had moved away from Hobbiton and Bywater and were busy with their own lives. Ginger, it seemed, was odd man out, and overlooked for the most part.

In a way it had made her a fairly self-sufficient lass, one who took things in stride as they came up, but on the other it left her no one to fall back on for those times when she had not the experience to sort out what was happening to her. And this was one of those times.

Cook looked on expectantly.

Taking a deep breath to clear her thoughts, Ginger looked over at the older Hobbit. The old Shire adage, “Make hay while the sun shines” surfaced; here was someone willing to lend an ear, and a word of advice . . . and if she were very lucky, a helping hand. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘it really all started when I was quite a young girl . . .’

Master Banks’ wife, Lily, had died, leaving Andwise to raise his only son, Ferdibrand – or Ferdy, as he was better known. Andwise’s mother had come to live with them, her own children all grown and her dear Hamlin had passed on as a result of an unfortunate incident with a neighbor’s fractious pony he’d been trying to shoe. Ginger’s ma had been friends with Lily and had wanted to ‘help out’ as she could. Thus had begun the weekly deliveries of little things to tide the Banks over, as her mother put it. And now with Gammer Banks getting older, these had been deliveries of braided loaves for the week’s end and small pots of fruit conserve – Gammer Banks has quite the sweet-tooth, Ginger confided.

‘And where does Ferdy – for, I suppose it is young Banks who’s got you into this state – where does Ferdy fit in?’ Ginger colored at Cook’s none too subtle urging to keep on track. ‘He’s about your age, as I remember – or a few years older, but not by much.’

Ginger shook her head ‘yes’. Ferdy was a bit older than she, and those early years she’d followed him about like a puppy when her mother and she had gone to the Banks' for their brief weekly visits. ‘It was easier back then,’ she told Cook. ‘Ferdy looked forward to seeing me and we’d play some little game or he’d show me the new carving he’d been trying his hand at. He was good with wood even back then – just like his Da.’ Ginger smiled remembering a small, painted carving of a bluebird he’d given her. He’d seen one hopping about on a small branch outside his window . . . the color, he’d said, reminded him of the ribbons she liked to wear in her hair.’

‘But all that’s changed now,’ she told Cook. ‘Seems somehow we lost our easy time together as we grew up. Leastways Ferdy seemed to. Got shyer, I think, and more tongue-tied than ever. Hardly says a word to me when I make the weekly deliveries to his Gammer now. And when I catch him sneaking looks my way he just turns all red and acts as if he’d run if he could.’

‘Hang it all, Miz Bunce, I miss my old friend and I just can’t figure out how to get him back! What would you do if you were me?’

Ginger looked hopefully across the table . . .

Sleepy Ranger

09-01-2004, 04:45 AM

With light and quick footsteps Melenril made his way to the inn. His grim face had a large smile on it, his dark brown eyes shining with happiness. He opened the door and made his way inside, very happy about the fact that he would soon be meeting his family again. He had gone for about two weeks without a rest and was glad that he found this inn. His beard had gone for many days without a shave and his dark brown hair constantly falling over his face. He made his way to an empty table in a corner and seated himself. "Think I'll rest a while before doing anything else." He thinks to himself. "It'll be great to see mom and dad again and the rest of the family." He thinks out loud.

He looks around at everyone in the room, his face still beeming with happiness. The fact that he was thirsty and hungry had been overcome by his happiness and he felt like singing out with joy but managed to keep himself from doing so. After a while of resting his weary feet, he walked up to the Inn Keeper, "A bottle of your best wine, if you'd please." He says in a cheerful voice. "And perhaps even todays special."

piosenniel

09-01-2004, 06:11 PM

Cook got up from her chair and brought the scrubbed taters to the table along with a couple of paring knives. ‘Never mind the skins, my dear,’ she told Ginger, shoving a pile in front of the girl. ‘We’ll get these quartered while we talk.’ Ginger’s quick hands bent to the task as did Cook’s, and soon the taters were piled up in a pan and advice heaped upon the young woman.

Ginger, for her part, mostly nodded her head as Miz Bunce spoke, but she stopped her whenever she didn’t understand or when she disagreed. Soon the pan was full and Cook filled it with water to set the taters boiling over the cook fire. Two large lamb roasts that Cook had earlier tucked into a pan and set on low in the oven were taken out to be basted, and their seasonings adjusted . . . then back they went to finish their slow roasting. Finally, Cook brought out a colander full of peas fresh picked in the garden and she and Ginger set to popping the tender green jewels free of their casings and into a large pan. They would be steamed lightly, and served glistening with butter.

As they sorted and worked through the peas, Cook suggested they make a little plan . . . just a little something to get Master Ferdy reacquainted with his childhood friend. The workers would be eating at the Inn tonight. Ginger was to be the server at the table where Ferdy would sit. And tomorrow, she said, taking a butterknife to one of the hinges that held a cabinet door on, she would ask Master Andwise if he might spare his son for a bit . . . there was a cabinet in the kitchen needed fixing . . .

‘And shall I be in the kitchen then helping you?’ asked Ginger, wondering what little job Cook would set for her.

‘No,’ said Cook. ‘I think the garden will need some tending, and you’ve just the hand and eye for weeds it needs. Master Ferdy and I will have a little talk. He’s not got a mother to set his head straight on his shoulders . . . I’ll just prod him along a bit. Had to do that with my own two sons. They could be a bit thick-headed at times.’ Cook tapped her foot on the floor, as she thought for a bit. ‘Believe I’ll first have a little talk with the lad’s father, though . . . best to have all your ducks in a row before a project’s begun . . .’

Cook untied her apron and hung it on the peg by the back door. Now you just watch those taters for me. I’ll be back in time to set the peas on.’ The late afternoon sun poured low across the back yard of the Inn as Miz Bunce clapped her bonnet firmly on her head and set off for the old groundskeeper’s cottage.

Witch_Queen

09-02-2004, 09:52 AM

Adu sat there staring into her mug of ale. She had no idea where Hama could be now. After all it seemed like the elves had told her nothing about seeing him. Adu couldn't stand to not no where he was. Hama where are you? What could have happened? Adu knew she shouldn't worry but she couldn't help it. Adu could hear the on going conversations in the inn. She figured it must look weird for her to be sitting there all alone without anyone to talk to. "What else is there for me to do now? I have waited for Hama and still her dare not show up. Perhaps he has forgotten about me and decided it best to forget his own friends."

Adu stood up and set her empty mug on a near by table. She figured that Count could use some company but then again he could be asleep. She walked out of the inn and looked up at the sky. It seemed all to peaceful for her. She went to the stables and found her horse still in the same stall she put him in. "Count?" Adu wasn't certain if he was asleep or not. As she got closer she noticed that the horse had fallen victim to sleep. "Rest well my friend." She placed her hand on the middle of his back before going back to the inn.

"If ever I have felt alone it is now. It seems like everyone is deserting me when I need them the most. At least I will have Count to depend on. Unless he too decides to leave me." Adu opened the inn door and walked back inside. Hobbits were all over the place and Adu figured she could endure them for a little while longer.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-02-2004, 10:26 AM

Fáinu was walking down the road from the south, he just went passed Cotton's farm. Next to him, riding on a pony was an old Dwarf. He looked very old, for a dwarf, he had a long but worn beard that was grey, and the green hooded cloak upon his back was battered and torn. He had some traditional Dwarf travelling gear on as well as a sturdy axe near at hand.

"I cannot say that I am surprised." Said the Dwarf, "After all, it had been many years now. And regret like that can grow and eat you heart!"

"Indeed," Said Fáinu, "These days, I know little of what I should do. Go back to Imladris, or wander around. A friend told me about Rohan today, Perhaps I shall go thither."

"Rohan?" Laughed the Dwarf, "that is a long way away, though the paths aren’t dangerous any more. I would still advise against it."

"Why?" Asked Fáinu, "What is wrong with Rohan?"

"I know not, for certain," Replied the Dwarf, "But the world has changed, the elves are leaving, and men still have little trust of them. Even the Dwarves are shunned at times."

"We all thought that trouble would be over when Sauron fell." Said Fáinu sadly.

"Hush!" cried the Dwarf, "Do not speak that name so loudly here! Perhaps tidings have not come to some who would still follow the dark one."

"Perhaps," Fáinu's voice was sad and he seemed to be half in a waking dream.

They came up the road to the Green dragon. Fáinu turned to go inside, but noticed that the dwarf did not dismount.

"Will you not join me for a cup of ale?" he asked,

"No," replied the Dwarf, "The stuff hurts my thought, and I have business to attend to, Farewell." with that he rode off down the road towards Hobbiton.

Fáinu pushed open the door and stepped inside. This time, there were no Hobbits giving him foul looks, mainly as they were drunk. He looked around the room and saw Adu, still sitting alone by the fire. She looked deep in thought, so did not disturb her. He ordered a drink and sat at a table close to where Adu was sitting, so that if she wished to speak with him again, he was close at hand.

Firefoot

09-02-2004, 03:35 PM

Lily was smiling happily in the company of the other Hobbits. Marcho appeared to her to be in a much better mood than he had been yesterday; she supposed it helped that she understood his position better now. Blanco was ever his bold self, Peony their sister was sweet, and little Donnamira was absolutely adorable. And, of course, there was Posco. It made little sense to her, logically, that she could have fallen in love with a hobbit she had only met yesterday, but she knew that she had, without a doubt.

In the few hours since she and Posco had returned, there had been some idle conversation, and the time seemed to have flown by. And, oh, what a wonderful time she was having! It was not quite the same as her ride alone with Posco, but she did enjoy the others' company very much. Presently Blanco spoke up.

"Well, we have talked of a great many things and you two have said nothing of your ride. Come now, tell us of it!" Lily caught Posco's glance, and held it for a moment. He smiled slightly at her.

"It was wonderful," Lily began. She blew over the first part, because it had been rather awkward. Neither of them had known exactly what to say or how to act. "We rode leisurely for a while... and then we let our ponies out to a full gallop." A friendly race would have described it better, she supposed. Well did she remember the thrill. Pounding hooves, the wind whistling in her ears, and best of all, it had been with Posco.

Nurumaiel

09-02-2004, 03:49 PM

'Yes!' Posco cried, that oddly bold look coming to his face, though he blushed slightly when he realized how loud his voice had been. 'Well, that is to say, it was quite fun.' He paused for a moment to glance at Lily. Seeing that she was smiling at him encouragingly, he went on. 'Oh, you should have been there!' He paused again, for he felt decidely that he was very glad his brother and friends had not been there. 'Well, I do mean, it was very enjoyable.' He coloured deeply. He was becoming confused.

Lily's eyes twinkled and she leaned over to whisper in his ear, 'Tell them about that poor fellow we almost galloped over.'

'Why, yes,' said Posco. 'There was a hobbit crossing the road with his geese, and he was crossing right in front of us. We couldn't possibly slow the ponies in time so we cried out a warning to him. He got out of the way, but his geese didn't want to move. At the last moment they flew here and there, squawking madly, with their feathers flying everywhere.' He chuckled, and Blanco laughed uproariously, slapping Posco on the back 'till he was almost choking.

When he had recovered himself, touching his shoulder tenderly, he turned to Lily and said, 'Tell them of the time we just nearly got over that little river because we didn't want to take the bridge.'

piosenniel

09-02-2004, 04:30 PM

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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

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.

piosenniel

09-02-2004, 04:31 PM

It is late afternoon, edging onto evening at the Green Dragon Inn. Supper will be served soon, The fragrant scent of roast lamb with rosemary is in the air, to be served with boiled and buttered taters, and fresh, glistening peas from the garden.

Apple pie is hot from the ovens and just cooling for dessert.

The evening is a fair one . . . no chill breezes or hint of storm.

Firefoot

09-02-2004, 07:30 PM

Lily had barely gotten over the delight of remembering that poor old hobbit with the geese when Posco brought up the river episode. She fought with her own laughter as she began to tell the story.

"We didn't want to take the bridge? More like the ponies didn't want to take the bridge. For some odd reason both of them shied away from it, and no amount of cajoling could get them over it. The little river wasn't very wide; a couple times my height at the most. So we heeled the ponies into the water, and wouldn't you know it but that narrow river had to be at least six feet deep! It just dropped off and suddenly there wasn't any sand under the ponies' feet any more. Then when we reached the other bank I nearly fell off Clover as he tried to scramble up the bank. By the time we were on firm ground again, we were positively soaked."

Now they were all laughing, and even Marcho had a few chuckles. Lily and Posco shared a look of common understanding. The others could laugh at their eventful ride, but only they had experienced it. There was a light in Posco's eyes that Lily had become familiar with over the course of their ride. When the laughter died down, Lily said, "Now you can tell them about the grumpy old farmer who set his dogs on us."

Envinyatar

09-03-2004, 01:31 AM

Derufin had gathered his tools together along with the stack of shingles and the bucket of pitchy sealant he had been using on the roof. Only the roofing for the newly added room need be finished up on the morrow; for tonight he spread a tightly woven canvas over the new beams to protect the interior.

He was just coming down the ladder for the last time, the bucket of congealing tarry pitch in one hand, when he saw Miz Bunce come stamping up the narrow dirt pathway to the cottage, a look of determination on her face. Leaning himself against the ladder, he waved to her as she looked up at him. She nodded, the brim of her calico sunbonnet dipping up and down in acknowledgement of him.

But she did not stop at the foot of the ladder as he thought she might, to wait for him. Instead, she went directly into the cottage. And as he peeked through the window he could see her looking into the rooms as she called out in a questioning voice. ‘Master Banks? Are you here?’ A few moments later and he could hear the low pitched answer from Andwise and then the start of a conversation between the two Hobbits.

Ferdy came hurrying out of the cottage carrying his toolchest and began loading it into the small cart he had brought. Derufin secured his own materials and walked over to where the young man stood. ‘About time for supper, eh?! I was thinking I could smell the lamb roasting in the Inn oven while I was up on the roof.’ He cast an eye toward the cottage where Cook and Andwise were. ‘Shall we get them out here and walk over to the Inn with them?’ Derufin went on. The four other Hoobit lads had already gone on toward the Inn, their tasks done for the day.

‘I think we should go on and let them catch up,’ answered Ferdy. ‘Cook shooed me outside . . . said she had something of import to talk over with my Da. Business of some sort – she mentioned something about a cabinet in the kitchen needing fixing . . .’

The two plodded along slowly, leading the pony and cart along between them back toward the Inn. A cabinet! What cabinet was that needed repair? Derufin had been in the kitchen for breakfast just this morning. The cabinets as far as he could recall all looked to be in good working order.

Now, what was this all about . . .?

Witch_Queen

09-03-2004, 08:48 AM

Adu sat there thinking about everything and her plans for the future. "What if Hama doesn't come back? What then?" Adu looked at the elf setting at a near-by table. Fáinu had returned. She smiled and stood up. "Its nice to see that you have decided to come back. So I hope everything between you and the dwarf went well." Adu figured that something wasn't right. For some reason the elf didn't seem himself.

She forced her thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn't need to worry about anything right now. "Fáinu so now what do you plan to do? Are you going back to Imladris or perhaps you will stay here for a while. I could use some company until my friend returns." Adu remembered the last person she had talked to while Hama was gone was her dear friend Jack. Even now she still coudn't forget the man that broke her already broken heart.

Adu's mind wandered inside her head. It didn't matter how much she tried to forget about her past it always seemed to haunt her. She knew she could rest easily now knowing that Dorian was dead. Perhaps some day I will feel worthy enough to leave these lands. Yet right now is a different story. How can I leave a land that still needs me. That is what I don't understand about my kind. Why leave a land that still needs the beauty of the elves. To me leaving is only accepting a death that will never come.

Adu blinked her eyelids and realized that she had drifted from reality. Her grey eyes rested on the figure in front of her. Adu reached out her hand and placed it on Fáinu's good hand. "So what are you going to do? Will you stay here and keep me company before I decided to return to my home in Rohan?"

Hookbill the Goomba

09-03-2004, 09:49 AM

Adu reached out her hand and placed it on Fáinu's good hand. "So what are you going to do? Will you stay here and keep me company before I decided to return to my home in Rohan?"

Fáinu smiled and looked up. He knew that he could not hide anything from another elf, he knew that few could hide things from him and knew that all elves have a way of seeing thoughts.

"Indeed," Fáinu said at length, "Though I may need a horse soon, Dwaline, the dwarf, told me some things that unnerved me." He looked coldly out of the window, then shook his head, "But let us not speak of it, for it concerns far off lands and I wish for rest, if but for a little while."

Adu seemed happy and content; he saw that she enjoyed the company of another elf, as did he. So far he had had few dealings with elves, Dwarves and men had been who he had dealing with when he wandered about Rhovanion.

Fáinu sniggered and looked at Adu, "You would think the Dwarves would be happy with all that gold. But no, they want more and more and so delve themselves into trouble." he shook his head, smiling.

A hobbit stumbled passed pushed the door, little did he realise it needed to be pulled. The Hobbit began to be angered with the door.

"If you don't open up!" he slurred, "I'm going to get tough on you!" then another Hobbit opened the door from outside and the Hobbit fell back. "Dang doors, you have to put them in their place." he them hobbled out.

Fáinu smirked and thought it reminded him of several elves in Mirkwood. The wine from dale was not nearly as nice as that he had received here, but the Hobbits seem to need to drink a lot more before it had any effect on them.

"Where are your friends?" asked Fáinu looking back at Adu, "coming from Rohan? How long should it be before they arrive?"

piosenniel

09-04-2004, 02:40 PM

starkat

09-04-2004, 03:05 PM

Gwenneth had been so deep in conversation with Ascasir and Isilme, that she hadn't realized that time was slipping away. With the smell of apple pie waifting in from the kitchen, Gwenneth took leave of her companions and headed for the barn.

She entered and spotted Elenath. The young elf maid picked up some grooming tools and entered the stall. Gwenneth greeted her mare and began brushing her.

Saurreg

09-05-2004, 03:39 AM

Ascasir signed softly to himself, elven eyes tailing Gwenneth as she made her way out ouf the serving hall. The Silvan elf rubbed his chin ruefully for a moment and his delicate brows knitted together in thought. Turning back to the table, he looked upon Isilmë and frowned,

"Friend Isilmë, I wonder if we have been rude by somewhat beating around the bush when that fair creation of Illuvatar's suggested we go horse riding. I do so fear that our conduct was unbecoming and may have irritated her We have after all, not given her a definitive reply!"

The Galadhrim shrugged his shoulders and replied,

"True friend Ascasir. But since neither one of us here has a horse to call our own, it is highly unlikely we would have been able to accomodate her suggestion. Unless of course she rides upon her swift steed and glides through fields and meadows like some fair maiar from the west while, we run behind her... trashing about like pack dogs."

"That would have been quite unsightly."

"Indeed."

Arien was charting her course west and the rays of the sun stretched even further through the wall openings of the Green Dragon until they touched the wall on the opposite end of the windows. The light was now a shade of rich amber rather than golden yellow, but it was still comfortably warm. A strong aroma of baked apples and buttery crust diffused through the air.

Acasir smiled wanely in satisfaction as he slumped lazily down the sturdy wooden chair and closed his eyes.

Nurumaiel

09-05-2004, 10:37 AM

Posco shuddered slightly. 'The farmer who set his dogs upon us? I was quite frightened.' He blushed rather sheepishly when Blanco gave him a reassuring pat on the back. 'Well, it was shortly after we had gotten out of the river, and as we were just beginning to dry off we came to a farmer's place. We were bold enough to jump the fence and ride over his land, and apparently we ignorantly trampled over his little flower garden, which we thought was just a bunch of wildflowers. I stooped down to pick some for Lily - ' here he blushed ' - and just as I did I heard some terrible cries and the howling of dogs. The farmer shouted all kinds of awful things to us, and we had to turn and run back. Fortunately our ponies we faster than the dogs, but they kept good pace until we came to the stream again, where they began to slow. The ponies were terrified, however, and wouldn't stop until they were across the stream, and we got soaking wet again.'

'Just when we were beginning to dry,' said Lily with a little sigh.

'Did you lose the flowers?' Blanco asked. 'What a pity!'

Posco shook his head. 'I did not!' he cried. 'I held onto them the whole way.' And he gestured to Lily's head, where a pretty bunch of bright flowers rested in her hair.

Amanaduial the archer

09-05-2004, 02:55 PM

As twilight settled across the undulating hills and rolling hills, the farmers and field workers of the Shire set off home, and the sherpherds and cow-herds began to set off home. One such shepherd, a certain Calico Proudfoot, started from his peaceful half-doze under a widebrimmed horsechestnut tree as he heard the sound of pounding hooves, many of them by the sound of it. Sitting sharply upright, Calico pushed the worn, fraying straw hat back from his eyes and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes surreptitiously as he gathered his wits, before standing a little unsteadily, attempting nonchalantly to flatten the creases out of his dungarees. Looking more closely at aforementioned creases, he rubbed at them a little harder, a wrinkle building in his young brow - why, his wife would have his guts for garters if he appeared home in this state! Ah, Buttercup Proudfoot, belle of Near Bag End, as radiant and dainty and glowing as her namesake. A regular... Calico struggled in his mind to think of some way to describe his wife, before giving up. Well, she was lovely anyway, and once her reluctant father had acquiested Calico's tentative request for her hand in marriage six months ago, Buttercup and Calico had been joined for all eternity. Only eternities were, well, rather funny things: Calico could swear he had already seen a fair few of them pass by with his fair wife by his side.

Not that she wasn't lovely, the gentle spirited hobbit-tween ammended hastily, even in his mind feeling guilty for any word against Buttercup, but, well, she was rather...domineering. He gave a pleased little smile at this thought, rather proud of such complex wording. Yes, that's right, she was domineering, and if anyman was to say any worse, he'd have their guts for garters. He paused, a small frown appearing once more on his chubby face as he considered the idea. Well, he wouldn't, being as he didn't wear garters and all, but...well, certainly someone would have their guts for garters, or some other part of their clothing. Maybe his little wife would like them for her garters? Well, maybe not, don't suppose Buttercup would be very into guts being worn as any sort of clothing...

So caught up was he in such a complex and confusing line of thought about who exactly would be wearing wear whose entrails, the many hooves had completely slipped his mind, only to be remembered when a polite cough came from nearby. Calico jumped a clear inch off the ground, one pudgy hand whipping up to tyhe top of his head to steady his hat as he looked around, wide-eyed. When he saw the owner of said polite cough, he took another step backwards...then another, just for good measure. "Oh....um...oh," he stammered uneasily, hand still clutching the top of his hat. In front of him rose an altogether rather menacing looking figure: a darkly cloaked rider, it's features obscured by the setting sun behind which cast an eerie glow of red and gold around it. It silently regarded him from atop a giant black horse, about seventeen inches high and dark as the night; beside this darksome beast stood another, smaller horse, an unmoving statue seemingly carved of fine, flecked stone, it's grey coat seeming to change colour subtly at the edge of the eyesight, greys, blacks and whites all playing a part in the dappled beauty. Both horses breathed heavily, and Calico could not help noticing that the black horse's panting definitely had a decidedly menacing edge to it; and horsey, what large nostrils you have...

Altogether a rather unsettling image for a young hobbit of an evening.

"Oh-h-h..." Calico moaned quietly, his saucer eyes gazing up at the black beast less than two feet away.

The rider's head tilted to one side and Calico gave a stifled gasp and shut his eyes tightly. There was a rather embarassed pause before a voice spoke. "Are...are you alright, sir?"

Calico frowned slightly, but did not open his eyes. Certainly, that did not sound like him much like the ghastly intonation of a dread horseman from t'other side of Doom. For one thing, it was female. Still, you never knew what sorts of new fangled tricks were being thought up on t'other side of Doom, and so Calico kept his eyes tightly shut. Still, it was nice of 'it' to ask, even if it was a dread horseman from t'other side of Doom, so, ever a well-mannered boy, the hobbit nodded tightly and gave a muted, strangled sound of affirmation from pursed lips. Deciding maybe more was needed, he managed, "Yes, thank you," still with his eyes closed. Naturally.

There was a pause and the distinct sound of someone licking their lips uncertainly. "Oh. Good. Well, I was just wondering if you would maybe like some help gathering in...your...sheep?"

Calico gasped and his eyes very nearly opened although he restrained himself just in time. "How did you know I was a shepherd?!"

Pause. "The...sheep. They....well, I'm afraid they rather gave it away," came the steady reply. Although it was perfectly courteous, Calico was almost - almost - sure that he heard it tinged with a smile. Did dread horsemen smile? Who knows...certainly it was an altogether more Brandybuck-like business than Calico liked to contemplate.

"Oh. No, thank you, sir horseman."

"Sure?"

"No, thank'ee. I'm sure you have other...business to attend to."

"Oh. Right. Ok, well, it's just...I didn't...well, alright." There was a second's stop, then the rider burst out, "It's just that they're all scattered and-"

"I think you may have scared them, sir horseman."

There was yet another lengthy and slightly embarassed pause, followed by an exasperated sigh, a few clicking noises - some black tongue?! - before the hooves started to move again, and the rider began to ride off, slowly.

"Sir- hmm. We- hmm. I- hmm." Pause. "Well, then I shall bid you good evening, sir. And I hope to see you at the handfasting!"

The last words were almost obscured by the sound of eight hooves as they sped up, but Calico was sure of what he had heard, and his eyes opened wide as he whirled around to look after the rider, but saw only a disappearing back riding down the hill, topped by what certainly looked like - and maybe it was a trick of the mind, or the eye, or whoever else likes to interfere with sight - what certainly looked like a pair of scruffy light brown pigtails streaming back. As only the head was still in view, the rider raised a hand and waved back to Calico, before it disappeared altogether.

Calico stayed completely still for some time even after the sound of hooves had disappeared, staring in the direction the rider had gone. Had he heard right? Had he seen right?! A female dread rider, waving back, talking of help and handfasting... Calico shook himself vigourously, is chubby face all a-quiver as he leant down to pick up his crook. Something here was certainly not right. Still, now he came to think about it - well, you got all sorts at the Green Dragon, not a mile hence. Folk from all over, and others who had seen all over - surely one of them would be able to explain? Certainly he couldn't come home so a-quiver to his fine but domineering wife, dirty dungarees and all, and have no solid and reliable proof from a-man-in-an-Inn that he was not just making up the darksome rider from t'other side of doom with two horses and helpful talk and a woman's voice and...and...pigtails...

As Calico firmed up the image of the rider in his head, herding his sheep absently down the hillside to his modest farm, the 'darksome rider' arrived back after two days in the courtyard of the Green Dragon Inn, and dismounted to greet Merimac with a grin.

"Evening, Miz Aman..."

Firefoot

09-05-2004, 04:31 PM

It was now Lily's turn to blush. She loved the flowers, wreathed about her head, but she knew her hair must be extremely mussed. Between their mad gallop and the river, her braid had fallen out and she had used the ribbon to secure the flowers. But despite her wind-blown hair, she was quite pleased. Posco had held on to those flowers for her, and she knew that they would be kept for quite some time.

"I suppose that is about the last of our 'adventures,'" said Lily. "The rest of the ride was rather uneventful, and after we had dried off, we headed back here. Though I must say, after all that I think I have found the Shire to be quite an interesting place, very different from Bree and yet a lot alike as well." The rolling hills and well-tended fields were very much to her liking. She mused that she might like to live there, and though the thought surprised her, she was comfortable with it. She realized that she was drifting off into her own thoughts, and snapped out of it.

“So what were you all doing while we were gone? Did anything of interest happen?” she asked.

Arry

09-05-2004, 07:18 PM

Andwise walked slowly toward the Inn. Not that he was tired . . . it was more that he had some thinking to do . . . and he often found it better to do so in solitude and without haste. He drew his pouch of pipeweed from his vest pocket and tamped in a generous pinch to the bowl of his cherrywood pipe. It remained unlit as he ambled on, his hand moving the pipestem along his lower lip as his thoughts jumbled about. The rich, familiar smell of the Southfarthing’s sweet galenas soothed him a bit, and soon he was stacking his questions and ponderings in neat piles, as he did his stacks of woods in his workshop at home.

His eyes flicked up as he noticed Miz Bunce stumping along in the distance ahead of him. And further on were Derufin and his Ferdy, almost to the Inn. ‘My, my,’ he sighed, as he looked at his son and considered him a different light altogether. ‘He has grown up, hasn’t he Lily?’ he said pointing the stem of his pipe at the young man. Andwise was often given to talking to his dear departed wife, in spirit, as he sorted through the problems that beset him. ‘And now I see what Ma was trying to get at with her talk of how lads need to be pushed a bit as they grow older. Not right, she said, a young man be spending all his time with wood and sawdust.’

He chuckled a little at the no nonsense approach of Miz Bunce. Never one to talk around a subject, Cook had gotten straight to the point. The boy’s, no the lad’s, Ma was not here to do for him, and so she was offering to do so. A lass had come to her, Miz Bunce had told him, a lass quite fond of Ferdy and asked for help in letting Ferdy know of her interest and determining whether said interest was mutual. ‘I’ve done so for my own lads, Master Banks,’ she assured him. ‘And I have to tell you, I can be gentle as needed or deliver the needed wallop should the lad prove mulish.’ Andwise had spluttered at the thought of Ferdy being thought in the least mulish, assuring the dear lady that gentle would most like be the best way.

‘Are you certain I shouldn’t be the one to talk to him,’ asked Andwise, an unsure tone in his voice. ‘Best I speak with him first,’ rejoined Cook. ‘A few words from a neutral observer, so to speak. Let him know there’s someone with an interest.’ She looked Andwise squarely in the face. ‘But then you should be the one to follow up on it. Being the lad’s father, a few words of guidance from your own experience would be quite helpful. Don’t you think?’

‘And who is this lass who’s come to you?’ Andwise asked, not wanting to consider Cook’s preceding question just yet. ‘And just how does she know my Ferdy?’ A note of possessive concern crept into his voice. ‘When shall I meet her?’

Cook shook her head, wondering at the thick-headedness of the Hobbit male. ‘Oh, my dear Master Banks,’ she answered, ‘why you’ve met her already . . . and often.’ His brow furrowed, trying to think who she might mean. ‘Ginger,’ Cook went on, smiling a bit as his brows rose at the mention of the girl’s name. ‘It’s Ginger who’s asked for my assistance.’

----------

The last few yards to the kitchen entrance of the Inn had to wait as Andwise stopped at the pump to wash his hands and face. He passed through the busy kitchen on his way to the Common Room to have supper with the others. Cook nodded at him as he went by her and there was Ginger, just taking up platters of sliced lamb roast, bowls of taters and those of buttered peas on a large carrying tray to take into the hungry patrons. ‘Here let me hold the door for you,’ he offered drawing the kitchen door open and waving her through. She colored prettily and bobbed a little thanks as she went by him. As with Ferdy, his view of her was caught in a new light as he saw the promise of young womanhood she now bore . . . and had probably borne for a while . . .

His thoughts drifted far back to his own time of courting and the sweet face of his dear Lily beamed at him in his memory as he drew up to the table where the other fellows sat. Ginger went ably about the table, he saw, seeing to the needs of the patrons in her care. Cook, he smiled to himself, had of course made sure she would serve at Ferdy’s table. The lass was gracious and efficient as she handled the platters of food and the condiments.

‘Miz Bunce has asked that you see to one of her cabinets tomorrow morning,’ he whispered, leaning toward Ferdy. ‘I’ve told her I can spare you and that you’ll be glad to help.’

Ferdy glance up at him nodding his head, wondering all the while why his Da was telling him this again.

‘She’s a wonderful woman, Cook is,’ his father went on, buttering a thick slice of bread as he went on. ‘You listen well to her instructions, you hear?’

‘Well, yes, Da,’ said Ferdy, tucking into his potatoes with a will. Surely he thought, she doesn’t mean to tell me how I am to fix the cabinet, does she? He looked to his father, a mouthful of potato half chewed.

‘Right, then,’ said Andwise. ‘Tomorrow bright and early you report to the kitchen.’ He reached for the bowl of glistening peas and helped himself to a couple of serving-spoonsful. ‘All settled, then . . . good, good,’ he murmured. Ginger came near with the platter of lamb and he beamed generously up at her. ‘Don’t mind if I do, my dear . . .’ he said forking two juicy slices onto his waiting plate.

Nurumaiel

09-05-2004, 09:11 PM

Blanco shook his head emphathetically, and stated that they had done nothing at all but wait for the return of the riders. Posco regarded Lily with a thoughtful eye. She said she enjoyed the Shire, and he wondered what she would of Buckland if she ever saw it. He wondered if she would love it, and if she would want to live there. He coloured at the thought, but he continued to dwell upon it. Surely there was not much more now. He loved Lily, he loved her as much as he could having only known her a day, and he loved her more every moment. He would want to take her home as his bride as soon as he left, but he knew he must wait. It was unnatural for a hobbit to marry a girl he had only known a day. He would have to court her for awhile yet. But time would pass. The only question was: Did she love him?

He studied her hair, fair in his eyes despite that it was tangled, and her sparkling eyes, and her rosy cheeks, and her smiling lips. Surely there was no lass fairer than she. Queen of all Buckland, he would make her, for she was fair enough for a Queen. But he? Ah, he was a blushing little fool who never could appear presentable as his brother, and he couldn't possibly give Lily the enjoyment she would want. She was a friendly, lively little thing, and she would want to go to all the dances, while he would want to stay home. Well! Posco squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. If she wanted to go to dances, she very well could, and he would go with nothing but pride to have such a pretty little wife by his side, and pleasure to be honoured enough to dance with her. First, of course, he must court her, and then he must ask for her hand. And he did not know her father.

'Tell me, Lily,' he said, 'a little more about your family, especially your father.' He looked nervously at her, and wondered if she would guess what he was thinking of. It would be humiliating if she did, and he would lose the fight before it was begun. 'Is he a kind sort of fellow? And what is he like as far as you are concerned? Would he consider you too good to marry a poor lad and want you to marry to someone prominent?' Her face had a curious expression, and he wondered madly if she were guessing his thoughts. He hastily went on, staggering over his words and eventually trailing off into nothinginess. 'Because if he does... I could... introduce you to someone... prominent...'

Firefoot

09-06-2004, 09:56 AM

"Tell me, Lily, a little more about your family, especially your father," said Posco. "Is he a kind sort of fellow? And what is he like as far as you are concerned?" Lily wondered where he was going with this. "Would he consider you too good to marry a poor lad and want you to marry to someone prominent? Because if he does... I could... introduce you to someone... prominent..." He drifted off, blushing. Suddenly, Lily thought she realized what Posco was trying to get at. Oh, Posco, dear Posco, don't you realize that it is you I love? she thought.

"Well," said Lily. "Perhaps I told you last night that I live with my aunt and uncle, and it is they that are primarily responsible for me. I have seen my real parents very little in many years, but I will tell you what I can. I certainly would not call my family rich, but we got on all right. My father worked hard at his store for what we had. My earliest memories are surrounded by love and laughter. On some nights my mother would get out her fiddle and play, and my father would dance with us children. There were six of us, myself being the third. When I was only seven, though, his store was burned down by a lightning, and with the exception of my next youngest brother and me, my family moved out to Archet where my mother's family lived. After losing everything, my parents were unable to support six growing children. My brother and I moved in with my aunt and uncle who had no children of their own. In the years since my father's primary concern for us - me - has been that we were happy, which I was. All I really want from life are the things I was raised with: love and happiness. And so far, I have found both. Wealth and prominence do not matter nearly so much."

Lily thought she saw relief etched out on Posco's face. She was glad. Sometime when she was talking the thought had crossed her mind that if she said one wrong thing she might end up putting a block between Posco and her, not by design but by something that might make him feel he was not good enough. She wished she could be more open, but there were too many people around, and she would not want to embarass him.

"I think that that is all you could want to know about my family. Maybe you will meet them eventually," said Lily.

Nurumaiel

09-06-2004, 11:26 AM

Blanco was not listening to Lily's narrative of her family, for he was concentrating keenly upon something else. He knew his brother's mind and heart, and he knew what those questions meant. He had known since last night that Posco loved Lily, and he had resolved then to fight so he might win her himself. Oh, he had known that ride would create difficulties for him. Posco was growing bolder. Did Lily love Posco? That was the only thing that mattered now.

'Maybe I will want to meet them,' said Posco in reply to Lily. 'I feel quite certain that I will want to meet them sooner or later.' He blushed again, for he felt the eyes of all those at the table studying him (save Donnamira). 'That is to say, if they are as good and kind as you I would be delighted to meet them as well. I enjoy having kind friends...' He trailed off in confusion.

The scent of supper drifted in from the kitchen, and each hobbit drew in a breath and let it out slowly, and Blanco murmured reverently, 'Taters!'

Peony smiled at him and glanced out the window at the evening sky, and she wondered if her own mother were preparing supper. Her eyes went back to the faces at the table, and then they quickly flew back to the window, and widened. Blanco noticed this and observed her keenly. Her eyes dropped, some colour rose to her cheeks, and she was silent for a few moments while another friendly conversation was begun. Then at last she stood gracefully and said, 'Do excuse me, but I feel the need for fresh air.'

'Would you like me to go with you, Peony?' Blanco questioned. She shook her head and replied, 'No, I would not have any of you bothered at my expense. I am just going to take a little walk about the Inn grounds. I will be back before supper is served.' And she departed.

'I don't know if I have already asked you this, Lily,' said Posco after a momentary pause, 'but when are you leaving Bywater to go home?'

Firefoot

09-06-2004, 01:00 PM

Well did Lily understand Peony's need for fresh air. After spending too long inside she often felt the same way. She was pulled back to the conversation by Posco's question.

"I am not sure. I left Bree with very few plans, but I expect that I will be leaving Bywater within a few days, though I may not go straight home," she said. Secretly, she had already made up her mind to travel through Buckland. She wasn't exactly sure what she would do there, but her mind was made up. Maybe if she was lucky she would see Posco, though she supposed the chances were rather slim.

"And you are leaving soon, too," she said sadly, though there was a hint of a question in the statement.

Lalwendë

09-06-2004, 02:05 PM

Jinniver woke to the rich aroma of roasting lamb drifting up from the common room to her bed chamber. She rolled from the bed, and started to wash and dress in clean clothes for supper. Her clothes were grimy as usual, and she had more dirt than ever down her fingernails. She felt groggy and splashed her eyes with cold water, which made her start. The sun was setting and the fiery glow through the window lit up her loosened hair. She fluffed it out, pulling a face into the looking-glass, and then started to bind it back into tidy braids.

It had been a long day for her, in many ways, and when she had gone back to her bedchamber intending to wash, she had sat for a moment on the soft bed and had fallen asleep. She had met Mr Proudfoot in the morning, and then had been asked to plant a little garden for Derufin's bride to be. Then, of course, she had told the tale of her dark days in Bree. The telling of the tale had not been hard, it was the thought of telling it that was the worst thing, the fear of speaking those words aloud. And yet now she had related what happened all those years ago, she felt unburdened. She was no less angry about what had happened, but the anger did not grip her when she thought of it.

Jinniver felt as though a small part of her that was missing had been somehow returned, yet she felt a little worried that she may have frightened her new acquaintances with her story, even though many of those in The Shire would have much worse to tell; Jinniver was too wrapped in her own concerns to consider this. She grimaced as she thought of the good shire folk thinking her odd.

Once Jinniver had told her tale, she had taken an hour to inspect the garden beds which Derufin wanted planting. She had been surprised to find remnants of the old plants growing there, hidden in the weeds, and she had devised a planting idea which would use the existing plants, as she always thought it a shame to rip up a perfectly good, mature specimen. The soil was rich too, and she could see that there would be little problem in growing almost anything there.

After inspecting the garden and making her delivery to Mr Proudfoot's smial, where she had discovered Mrs Proudfoot was just as round and amiable as her husband, she had written to her father.

"Dear Father, I am well. I am staying at The Green Dragon Inn, a respectable place on the edge of Hobbiton. You might have heard tell of it before. My lodgings are clean and comfortable and the food is good, and the local folks are most friendly, not at all odd. I have been asked if I can plant up a little garden for some nice young folks who are to be wed, and so I must ask you if you can send me a selection of plants. I have written you a list and it is with this message. If you send them tomorrow, as soon as you have read this, then I will get them the day after. Ask young Ashwyn about them, she has these plants are ready in the nursery house. Let's hope you are not still abed when the messenger arrives.

“I will be staying for a few more days here, until I have finished this gardening job. I may stay longer if you will allow it, as I am getting lots of names and addresses for orders. Think of all you can do with what I earn here. That is as good as any of our fireside tales that you might be missing.

While I am away, tell Ashwyn to keep up her book-learning, and make sure to lock the kitchen door up fast. "

Jinniver felt as though she had been away from Bree for much longer than a couple of days, and when she thought of her father she felt nervous, hoping he was happy and safe. Still, she knew he would be glad to have her niece about the place, even if she was a little cheeky. And besides, she had reminded her brother to look in on them at least once a day. Pulling on her long tunic, she sighed, and then the smell of the roasting lamb and the thought of the good company downstairs took her out of the room.

Nurumaiel

09-06-2004, 02:54 PM

Posco glanced at Marcho, and the latter nodded his head firmly and said, 'We'll be leaving tomorrow, like as not.'

Blanco threw back his head and howled dismally. 'So soon?' he cried. 'Oh, can't we stay longer?' He and Posco looked miserably at each other, at Lily, and back at each other again. Bingo gazed at them earnestly for some time, and then began to plead with Marcho. Marcho seemed to waver under Bingo's begging, but he said no more but that he would consider staying longer.

Peony had walked calmly out of the Inn, but as soon as the door had closed behind her she had flown to the window she had been looking at earlier, and her eyes searched here and there until she saw a hobbit lad leaning again the stable wall. With a little cry she sprang towards him, saying, 'Hal Brandybuck!'

He turned, and his eyes lit up as he took the hands she held out to him. 'My dear Peony,' he said, bending forward to brush his lips against her cheek, 'what a pleasant surprise to see you here.' He was a little taller than her, with light brown hair and brown eyes, and a face that was slightly tanned from days in the sun. His hands were calloused, but they held Peony's own little white hands with a gentleness rarely equaled. He was dressed in the garb of most farmers of Buckland, though his overcoat suggested he had been travelling, and the mud on it signified that he had been travelling long enough to have ridden through the rain of the earlier day. Peony's eyes were shining as she gazed up at his, and his own displayed great warmth and affection.

'Is it really so great a surprise, Hal?' she asked, blushing slightly. 'I cannot think of what business you would have here... unless...'

'Unless it was to find you, you do mean,' said Hal. He turned and began to stroll towards the garden, and she slipped her arm through his own. His heart seemed to skip a beat at the touch of that sweet hand on his sleeve, and his eyes filled with adoration for the pretty lass at his side. 'To tell you the truth, Peony, I did come here to find you. I heard where you were going and I became afraid that you would not be coming back for some time.' He looked with boyish earnestness into her face.

She laughed lightly and her eyes twinkled. 'Silly lad!' she said. 'I am going home tomorrow, if the weather is fair. You did not need to ride so far to see me. You must have left before I did if you were riding in yesterday's rain. I am surprised I did not pass you on the road.'

'My pony has gone slightly lame and I did not want to put strain upon him by riding swiftly.' He paused, and then he patted the hand that held lightly onto his arm. 'Dear Peony, if I know your aunt you won't be back for at least a week. She'll take a fancy to having someone about to help her and amuse her, and she'll want you to stay longer. Of course you won't say no.'

'Maybe not,' said Peony, 'and I'm sure I will not now that you are here. Do you intend to stay at the Inn?'

'Yes:' said Hal: 'until you come home with me.'

'Silly lad!' said Peony again. 'I will go home with my brothers, more than likely. I can't go home with you, not until my father gives his permission.'

'I know,' said Hal, and a cloud of sorrow passed over his face. He turned and took both her hands in his, kissing them, and he said, 'Darling dearie, I have loved you for so long, and I have waited so long for you. How cruel your father is to keep us apart so!'

'Please, Hal, I would not have you make a scene,' said Peony, laughing in some amusement. 'Surely people will not be annoyed to see the face of you, but it would be humiliating for me. And... for my father's sake... he does not even approve of a kiss and a tender word of devotion.' She gently pulled her hands from his, and took his arm again. 'If it is to pass that we become each other's, it will pass. Father will change his heart and mind if it is to be. Don't worry, Hal.'

Blanco was standing at the window, and he saw Peony standing with Hal, and he turned a beaming face to his brother. 'Posco, look!' he said, when he was quite certain that he could call the attention of his brother and friends without causing Peony any embarrassment. 'Hal is here!' Posco's face lit up and he said, 'Let us go out and greet him.' He stood, pulled Lily's chair out from the table so she might stand easier, and said, 'Lily, would you like to meet Mr. Hal Brandybuck? He will probably be my sister's husband before too long.'

Firefoot

09-06-2004, 06:59 PM

Lily arose from her seat, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears. She was curious about the hobbit that had caused such a stir in Posco’s family. She was also quite confident she would like Hal Brandybuck, based on Posco’s descriptions. Out loud, she said, “I would like to meet him very much.” Their small group made its way outside, and Peony spotted them almost immediately. She waved them over, saying, “I thought I told you all not to bother yourselves.” She was smiling though.

“I saw you two through the window and we had to come say hello,” explained Blanco. Lily thought she saw the faintest hint of a blush on Peony’s face, but it may have just been the fresh air.

“Nice to see you again, Hal,” said Posco. “This is Lily. Lily, this is Hal Brandybuck.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Lily. Hal replied, “And you, Miss Lily.” The introductions having been made, they began to walk. She stayed by Posco’s side, and Hal and Peony walked together as well. Lily had known Peony for only a few hours and Hal a few moments, but it was evident to her that the two of them were meant for each other. Silently, she wished them the best of luck.

Witch_Queen

09-07-2004, 08:35 AM

"He should be here anytime now." Adu looked around and realizing that she was searching for someone she knew wasn't there was just a waste of her time. She had nothing to do and only time to waste. Adu dropped her gaze. She had nothing now and no one to even care about her. All her life was going to be spent loosing those around her. Everyone would abandon her when she needed them the most. "Fáinu, what do I do now? Perhaps Hama has forgotten about me. Do I just stay here and spend all my days waiting for him when I don't even know if he is still alive. Please help me." Adu realized that she was crying but it didn't even come out in her voice. She looked up and the sun light glinted off of the tears on her cheek.

I feel so alone and yet I'm not. Why can't I just forget about everything and just leave this life behind me. Adu's heart was breaking and yet it was still whole. She couldn't tell whether or not what she was doing was right. After all her years traveling with Hama and Durian she figured that her heart would be stone by now. Instead it was breaking and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-07-2004, 09:01 AM

Fáinu felt very sorry for Adu. his history was painful, he perceived that hers was even more so. Revenge he had sought, and found not, now he had nothing to look for in life. But Dwaline's words of dark shadows and of servants of evil still wandering the world made him think that time may show forth yet something.

For a time the both sat in silence, Fáinu was deep in thought; his eyes seemed glazed as if he was looking at something far off. He blinked quickly and looked back at Adu, then stared into his mug, the ale did not seem so appetising as it once did.

"Do not fear, Aduthondiel." Fáinu said "Aid I have given to many,” even though seldom have I received it myself, save from Elrond, and he is gone. "but to none more needy as thee" he looked her in the eyes and saw that she wept. "But what aid would you ask of me? For my strength lessens and the pain of my wound grows as the power of the elves wanes."

Why should she seek my aid? All my life I have done nought to great avail. Cursed by Dragons, cased out by my own brothers, Worthy of nothing, not even revenge that I sought.
He shook his head and regained his thoughts, Nay, Perhaps in this, I can achieve something, giving my aid to one I know, but a little.

Amanaduial the archer

09-07-2004, 01:13 PM

As Aman moved around to the front of her horses to lead them into the stables, the large black one who she had been riding tossed his head a little and stamped his hooves a few times. Merrimac, despite all his keenness with horses, stepped back a little out of pure common sense. As the horse tossed it's head again, Aman, now standing in front, subconciously mirrored the action as she shushed him quietly, her hand coming up slowly to his nose. The horse narrowed beautiful, slanted eyes at her, regarding her, then nuzzled into her fingers affectionately. Beside it, the other horse, Rochfalmar, seemed to roll her eyes. Aman grinned at Merrimac excitedly, looking across at him as her hands moved across the side of the horse's oddly angular face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" She said delightedly. "Taydoch said the Haradrim breeders were coming, and told me they might even have been breeding with the Rohirrim steeds, I didn't believe it, of course, after all they'd been through together, the Haradrim aren't naturally forgiving-"

"Woah, woah..." Merrimac held up both hands against Aman's chattered onslaught. He flattened his palms slowly as if slowly pressing down an invisible briefcase in the air as he frowned at Aman comically. "Could...could you explain that one more time - tcha tcha tcha!" he cut her off as she opened her mouth again, and made that odd flattening motion again. "Slowly. Sensibly. And so someone who until a few years ago had never seen a horse bigger than the dumpy ten-hand ponies you see wandering the Shire with straw hats." He glanced nervously at the horse again and jerked his head towards it. "'Cos that is definitely no straw hat pony!"

Aman grinned again but calmed down, taking the reins of both the horses and starting towards the stables, her hands fiddling with the leather and often straying up fondly to one of the other of the horses' faces or manes. "Sorry, sorry, I'll try again. The last few days, I was at the horse market, on the Great East Road, you know?"

Merrimac gave a small, dry smile. "Aye, you just about mentioned it before you raced off to meet your fancy man there."

"'Fancy man'?!" Aman stared incredulously. "What, Taydoch? I've known him for years! He's not-" she stopped, and apparently considered some mental image. "Well, actually, I mean, when you say it like that, Taydoch wouldn't be at all bad, you know, he's a-"

Merrimac coughed politely.

"-but you don't want to know about that. A-anyway... the titbit that Taydoch used to really entice me - well, con me - into coming to the horse market was some information he had that some Haradrim breeders were coming. And don't look at me like that, master Merrimac, not all of the Southrons are complete savages. They're fine horsemen, when they put their minds to it - second, of course, to my people - and the creatures they produce..." Aman looked up lovingly at the huge sable horse. Merrimac eyed him warily. "You mean creatures like that thin- like him?"

"Ah, no, you see, that is where the genius comes in. Obviously the Rohirrim were there as well - a horse market wouldn't be complete without a few of us - and along with bringing the purebreeds from the Southrons and the Rohirrim...there was one breeder who brought a few cross-breeds. And that, dear Merrimac, is where my very lovely new steed comes in: one of the first in Middle Earth - whether there will be more, I don't know, but a fine beast this is, a fine beast!"

And a fine beast it was, even to the doubtful Merrimac: the horse must have been about eighteen hands, but was sleek rather than stocky, built for speed as well as strength, and would have been verging on gaunt was it not for the hints of the muscle depth that moved beneath beneath. His black fur shimmered as a muscle twitched in his shoulder, and the sable ripples that followed gave whole new tones to the colour black. His raven neck arched up elegantly in a fine curve and the head was held proudly, far more sharply boned and angular that the horses of the United Kingdom. From the sharp, angular face, the kohl rimmed eyes that looked down at you were rather slanted, black and narrowed as if against the wind or dry sand of Harad, just like the eyes of the horse's breeders. And what's more, they were intelligent: they seemed to be regarding Merrimac with a rather crafty sort of amusement.

The hobbit stared back, then raised a hand to the horse's nose, edging forward boldly although he felt anything but bold inside. The horse looked at him with those slanted, laughing eyes, then tossed his head against the stablehand's small fingers. Aman smiled. "By the West, Merrimac, I think he likes you."

Merrimac tried to look disapproving, but couldn't help a small, bashful smile, his dark cheeks reddening slightly. "Aye, well. Shall I settle them in?"

"Oh, Merrimac, you're brilliant. He won't be any trouble - why, 'Falmar and he are already getting on better, even if she seems to disapprove of such a wily colt," Aman grinned at the dappled grey mare companionably, as if they were two girls discussing a naughty but rather dashing boy.

The hobbit nodded and took the two pairs of reins, before stopping and turning back. "Oh, wait - 'he'? Have you not given the horse a name?"

"Nay given the horse- why, Merrimac, how can you suggest that!" Aman's mock outrage slipped and she nodded more soberly. "Aye, I called him after the friend I went to meet, my 'fancy man'." She rolled her eyes. "His name is Taydoch."

"Tie-dok?"

"No! Tay as in...well, think hay, but with a 'T'."

"Tay-dok?"

Aman winced at the hard ending the hobbit put on the name. "Try to soften it. Roll the 'ch' in the back of your throat, like...like..." she demonstrated, rolling the 'h'*. Merrimac tried. Aman made a face and demonstrated again. They went on for a few moments before realising how ridiculous they sounded and bursting out laughing. Aman shook her head and held up her hands, chuckling as she backed away to the Inn. "Fine, fine, have it your way, TaydoCK it is!"

Turning, she walked through the darkness into the comforting light of the Inn, where the smells of supper and the delighted call of Buttercup Brownlock greeted the Innkeeper back to the 'Dragon...

~*~*~

* the 'ch' at the end of Taydoch is said like a Hebrew/Yiddish 'ch', such as at the beginning of 'Channukah'.

Witch_Queen

09-08-2004, 06:27 AM

Adu looked as if she was lost in the world. She knew where she was but then again she didn't. Adu figured her mind was playing with her. "Fáinu, I don't like to be alone. Setting her watching everyone else and their companions only make me long for company that much more. I don't know when Hama will be back and then again I don't know if he will come back. I need a friend right now and your the only one that can understand what I'm feeling." Adu wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she cried like this.

I have cried myself to sleep many nights but never was it like this. Always it was for my homeland and my family. Yet they have forgotten about me. To them I am no more than a shadow. That is the way it will be..... Aduthondiel the Forgotten. She sat there staring into his eyes. She didn't know why but for some reason she didn't feel alone anymore. Realizing what she was doing Adu turned her head away from him. She could feel her cheeks burning and she knew she was blushing.

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-08-2004, 12:17 PM

The gathering dusk opened momentarily and from it emerged a dark cloaked figure atop a great black horse. The slow tread of the hooves fell like metal into the evening light as the horseman drew into the grounds of The Green Dragon. The horse was suddenly stilled and its rider regarded the Inn from beneath the dark folds of his hood. Only his eyes could be seen, glittering with a baleful light as they sought to swallow the Inn like food. The smell of the roasting lamb fell about the horseman unnoticed, and the quietude that spread out from him began to still the yard.

With a sudden jerk, as though waking from a dream, the horse and its rider strode to the stables where the rider quickly dismounted, his high, richly made leather boots ringing loudly against the flagstones. He looped the reins over the rail and quickly removed the saddle, which he tossed upon the low stable door nearest him. The man looked in through the stable door for a moment, gazing upon something or someone who was no longer there. He sighed and moved toward the open door of the Inn, now filling with a warm and welcoming light.

He stepped into the familiar confines of the Inn and greeted the rush of sound and light with an unaccustomed smile that lit his face. Few noted his entrance with anything more than curiosity, for he was greatly changed since his last visit to the Inn, and he had learned the ways of cloaking his true self in the intervening months. His dark eyes swept about the room, searching for someone in particular, but they did not find their quarry.

Suddenly worried that perhaps he would be thwarted in his search, he strode through the room to the bar. As he approached it, there entered from the kitchen the welcome and familiar countenance of Ruby Brown. Her happy eyes met his and there was amazed recognition. Quickly dropping a curtsey, Ruby stammered out, “Welcome back, Sir! I had not thought to see you again, I must admit. Have you had a long journey?”

The man smiled at the hobbit’s warmth and placed his hands upon the bar. They were clad in rich leather gloves and as he moved his robe fell away revealing the silks and furs of a great and powerful noble. His hood, however, he left in place. Casting his voice to a lower pitch he answered Ruby quite simply. “Yes, a very long journey.”

“Well, like I always say, long or short it doesn’t matter once it’s ended.”

The man’s smile was knowing and a bit unsettling this time. “Ended? That is a claim indeed to make for my journey. I do not think that I can say that it is ended. But perhaps for a time I can delay.”

Ruby smiled at this, although she had little idea of what he was talking about. Suddenly remembering, she flushed and looked about the bar. “I suppose, Sir, that you’d be wanting to speak with Miz Aman?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I’ll just run and see if I can find her.” Ruby turned to go, but then paused and looked back. “Who should I say is asking for her, Sir?”

The dark man smiled, and pulled back his hood revealing strong dark features and his flowing raven hair. His grey eyes flashed like steel. “Why Ruby, I thought that you recognised me.”

“Indeed I do, Sir, but I wasn’t sure if you’d have a new name to go with everything else that’s changed about you.”

He laughed softly with genuine amusement. “I had forgotten how perceptive you are Ruby, like all your folk. I do indeed have a new name, many in fact, but you should use the one that I had when I came here last.”

Ruby curtsied once more. “Yes Mr. Snaveling,” she said before disappearing in search of the Innkeeper.

Amanaduial the archer

09-08-2004, 02:36 PM

At the moment the door of the Common Room closed behind Snaveling, the sidedoor of the kitchen opened, releasing the fragrant smells of Cook's work into the pleasant night air. The Innkeeper, now clad in a dress, stepped out onto the step, breathing in the still air happily, her eyes closed as she took a moment to enjoy the peace and coolness. The soft green material of the dress's skirts lapped lazily around her legs and feet and the breeze gently stroked her half-exposed arms as she stood suspended on the step; after the constricting leathers, especially after several hours hard riding, the dress seemed ridiculously airy and light, and besides, Cook had made it quite clear that she would 'much prefer it' if Aman changed - the hobbit woman's glares of disapproval would send a weaker woman cowering beneath the bar.

Breathing deeply, Aman shrugged her shoulders lightly and began to walk briskly towards the stables: having changed now, she intended to check on her horses, especially Taydoch, before she went back in for the evening. Reaching the courtyard, something immediately struck her as odd, something which maybe would not have seemed so odd to newcomers to the Inn who did not know it quite as well as the Rohirrim Innkeeper.

The door was closed.

Likesay, this would not seem so strange had it not been for the fact that it was always open - both Derufin and Merrimac had a habit of leaving it open so that the warm, comforting light spilled onto the cobbles of the courtyard, giving a pre-taste of the Inn, the bright windows of which you saw when you fully rounded the corner into the courtyard. But to see it so conscientiously and carefully closed...

Approaching and lifting the latch, Aman gave an experimental push and was relieved when the door swung open with a soft creak - that meant at least that it was locked only from the outside, and that there was no one inside. Still, with horses from every race and calibre of peoples from ever inch of Middle Earth stored under one roof, it didn't pay for the owner of said roof to be at all careless. Closing the door almost entirely behind her, Aman turned to lift the lantern from behind her...and leapt as a thump punctuated the silence.

Whirling around with the lamp held high, the oil light flaring into the uncertainty of the shadows, Aman glared around wildly...and grinned in relief, feeling foolish, as she realised it was merely the sound of one of her own horses shifting. Lowering the threatening lantern and turning the little stick carefully so that the light softened, she approached them with a smile. Taydoch and Rochfalmar stood with their heads close over the half-doors of their stalls and the mare nuzzled her nose against the black stallions gently as Aman came towards them, and he reciprocated gingerly. They were getting on well then. Aman held out a hand to stroke Taydoch's nose - and stopped as she noticed the second thing that was amiss: that the ever-absent stall beside Taydoch's was no longer absent. The Innkeeper cocked her head on one side and looked speculatively at the new occupant of the stall: a huge, dark beast like Taydoch but more stockily built, it's eyes glinting with some inner fire, it's coat melding into the darkness as if woven of the night itself.

This was a horse that meant business.

Aman held out a hand to the horse and it pushed firmly at her sleeve in the search for oats - so it was obviously animal not immortal beast. She frowned slightly beneath her smile though - there was a certain something about this horse, an essence that spoke of something else...someone else... The memories stirred confidently and Aman blinked: could it be...? No, don't be silly, just because the horse happens to be the sort of steed you could imagine him riding...it doesn't mean he has returned...not when you never really expected to see him again...

Picking up her skirts and half-running out of the stables, Aman deposited the lantern hastily and made her way quickly into the Inn, pausing only to look hopefully at the window of the Inn, where the bright lights of the fire and the joy of the customers shone brightly. Was that a tall figure she saw there, wearing dark riding clothes? Or was it simply imagination...

Making her way up the steps at what Cook would have called an 'indecent pace' for a young lady, the Rohirrim woman took a deep breath as if plunging underwater and opened the door. Looking around, her eyes settled as if drawn magnetically on the figure warming his hands in front of the fire, his back turned to her, dark hair falling down his neck, the profile of his pale face familiar as he turned his head...

"Snaveling..." Aman breathed softly. The man couldn't have heard, but he turned anyway, and a dry smile broke out on his noble features as he caught Aman's eye and nodded, moving towards her without a word. Aman broke out in a bashful grin that would have set every old gossip in Hobbiton gleefully muttering to each other, but this time with reason - maybe. Holding out her hands to Snaveling's, she grasped them tightly and smiled up at the Numenorean.

"Welcome back, Snaveling - come, I see by your face that we have plenty to discuss..."

Hookbill the Goomba

09-08-2004, 02:45 PM

Fáinu looked darkly about the room. He knew not what he could do. He sat there deep in thought, weighing his options one by one. He took a drink from his mug and looked back at her.

"Much I would do," he began at last, "To help one in such plight. Deep wounds you bear, wounds of history. And I perceive, that some you know not the origins of. Indeed, I know those wounds, for I bear them myself."

He was silent again and went back into deep thought. At length an Old Dwarf came into the Inn, he was weary and coughed as he entered.

"Fáinu!" he spluttered, "I am going to Bree, I tell you so that you need not seek me."

"Very good, Dwaline." Said Fáinu, then, remembering his manners, "This is Aduthondiel, a friend of mine." The dwarf bowed and coughed, he took out a pipe and placed some weed in it.

"I'll be off then." Said Dwaline turning and puffing smoke, "Not like I'm wanted in Half-ling country."

"Dwaline, wait!" Cried Fáinu, "I must bid you do one thing."

"Name it, I shall do it." Said the Dwarf, "If it is in my power." He coughed and spluttered again.

"On the road," Fáinu began, "find what news you can of one named Hama. Send what news you gain to me, ether here or at Rivendell."

"Very well," Dwaline turned again and walked briskly out of the Inn. Hoof steps were heard slowly getting faster as the Dwarf rode away. Fáinu looked back at Adu and smiled.

"Perhaps this will ease your mind." he said, "He may be old, but Dwaline can get news better than most that I know." he then took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Adu. "Come, put worry aside for a time."

Just behind them a small fat Hobbit began a drunken song, which resulted in him falling from his chair and looking up at Fáinu.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked in a drunken slur, "Can I have a drink pal?"

The other Hobbits then picked him up and dragged him out. Fáinu smiled at Adu with a raised eyebrow suggesting amusement at the Hobbit's antics. She smiled back, weather she was amused, or fained it he could not tell.

Witch_Queen

09-09-2004, 06:39 AM

It is nice to know that if the world was to end that hobbits would continue to drink and sing. There isn't much singing going on Middle Earth since the elves began leaving. Sad really when there is so much left for them to do. The wisdom of the elves is needed so much. Yet we cannot even tell. Adu couldn't help but smile at the drunk hobbit. It didn't matter how disgusting she thought they were, hobbits always made her laugh. "Its weird how no matter what a hobbit's spirit is something you can almost never take away. They always seems so happy even in depressing times. Fáinu, thank you for everything you have done so far. I don't know why I even should worry. Its not like there is a war going on." Adu sighed when she mentioned the word war. Not everything was going as well as she hoped.

In her mind she couldn't forget the words Aduthondiel the forgotten. To her everything would all soon be a memory. She would continue her immortal life and every time she should find happiness, it is always in men. She didn't know why she couldn't find an elf that stole her heart. Perhaps it was because of her father and the way he treated her. Adu didn't want to loose herself in thought so she needed to find something else to do. She looked down at her mug and noticed that it was empty.

Adu realized that she was like the mug. It was more of her life but still she felt empty inside. She decided that perhaps she would find some water or something besides ale. She remembered the last time she drank too much ale. That was the day Jack came back. "Fáinu, where do you plan on going when you decide to leave The Shire? Will you go back home or wander around searching for some sort of meaning." For some reason Adu was asking herself the exact same questions.

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-09-2004, 10:42 AM

He took her hands with an odd mixture of feelings, but the smile on his face betrayed none of his ambivalence. All Aman saw in that countenance was the joy of two friends meeting once again. He looked at her closely and noted that while she played at being the same woman he had come to know in the weeks after the fire, there had been changes in her since. Something had happened that had altered her perceptions of herself. Fitting he thought, that she should alter in her own regard, as I have. He wondered if the alteration had been a happy one.

None of this appeared in his face or manner as he answered Aman. “Indeed we do!” and he laughed in an easy manner. “First you must tell me how business has been for the Inn, and of my old friend Toby.”

At first the woman refused to answer and pressed Snaveling for more information of his travels, but the man remained steadfast in his desire to hear of the doings and happenings of the Shire. Bursting with impatience, the innkeeper allowed herself to be directed to a chair by the fire where she ran through, as quickly as she could, all that had happened at the Inn since he had gone away. About herself, however, she remained silent, a fact that did not pass Snaveling unnoticed. When she finished with the gossip she once more pressed him for information. “Where have you been?” she began. “Did you see the King, and how did he greet you? I can tell by looking at you that it must have gone well.” The unspoken question was clear: what did Elessar Telcontar do to you for your attempted murder of his kinswoman?

Snaveling’s voice was grave as he replied. “I do not know if it ‘went well’ for very little in this world does, but the result of our meeting was…satisfactory. Roa presented me to the King as I was. She related to him both my crimes and the claim that I made by virtue of my birthright. At first I was greatly afraid of him, for he was stern and mighty, and I was surrounded upon all sides by his people. Their attitude toward me was clear from the moment they heard what Roa had to say, and had it not been for the King I daresay I would not be here with you now. But he stilled them and descending from his throne took me in his arms and welcomed me as a brother, exclaiming that as the descendent of Ar-Pharazôn I was like him of the royal line of Numenór and therefore to be honoured as his kinsman.” He fell silent at the memory of that moment, for the surprise of it had never quite worn thin. “He then grew stern once more, however, and turning to the assembly he said, ‘I have welcomed this Man into my house and I accept his claim to the throne of Numenór as valid. Do not think, however, that by this I mean to relinquish the right by which I hold lordship of the Numenórean kingdom in Middle-Earth, for that was established of old as a separate domain by Elendil and his heirs. This Man holds the true title to the land that is lost beneath the waves. For that we must show him the honour that is his due.’ When I heard that,” Snaveling continued, chuckling lightly, “I nearly fell over with the terror of it all. Me a King?” and his laugh grew, “Me? A vagabond rogue from a lost corner of the world who had nothing to his name but the insults and disregard of all whom I’d met…it was preposterous. And yet, something in the way the King spoke of me made it real. I suddenly found myself in the midst of a people who regarded me as a great and powerful Man. Oh, they did not trust me, and I daresay there are many still who would be happy if I were to fall off my horse and break my neck, but so great is their love of their King that they were willing to accept his judgment in this.

“When the King spoke next it was to me, but he cast his voice so that all could hear. ‘But not for this alone were you brought before me,’ he said. ‘The crimes you have committed against my kinswoman Roa must be redressed.’ I trembled then, for I feared that he had recognized my claim only as a cruel prelude to my destruction. But the King is both wise and merciful – how greatly do I lament the words that I have spoken against him in the past, ignorant as they were. Rather than ordering my instant death he proposed an exchange of sorts. In return for remitting my sentence, I was to lay down all claims that I had to the throne of Gondor. I am sure that he did not fear any rebellion that I might pose, but I could tell that he wanted the matter of my lineage and of my claim settled finally, so that none would doubt where I stood. I do not want to be King, so I happily agreed to the terms and forsook my claim as loudly and as elegantly as I could.”

Aman could no longer contain her amazement. “So you are free, then!” she said. “The King has forgiven you!”

“Yes, he has forgiven me, and more. I told him of my people and of the difficult lives we lead upon the edges of his realm. He took pity on us and granted us in perpetuity the right to pursue our game, and live our own lives on the lands that are our own. That very day he dispatched ambassadors to my people with messages of good will and allegiance. At first, they were distrustful and wary, but when the sent envoys to the King I was able to meet with them and convince them of the King’s sincerity. There is still no great love between my people and the Gondorians – and with the Rohirrim, I am afraid, there remains great enmity – but my people now have a recognized land of their own, where they are free to live free from interference.”

“So all your dreams have come true,” Aman said. “Why then are you here? Why have you come back?” There was a note in her voice that caught Snaveling’s attention, and at it his heart failed somewhat.

He became reluctant and quiet, seeking comfort in the fire as he searched his mind for a response. Aman pressed him again. Not meeting her eyes, Snaveling said to the flames, “I have come in search of Roa. The King sent her back to the North soon after our arrival in Minas Tirith, and there has been no word from her in months. My heart fears what might have happened to her. I cannot return to my people until I have found her…”

Nurumaiel

09-09-2004, 12:27 PM

The company walked in relative silence, and at Blanco started up a lively, pointless, chattering conversation, a conversation restricted entirely to himself. Lily and Posco listened, and Hal began to walk faster. Peony lengthened her stride almost to a run to keep up with him, and when they reached the corner of the Inn he began to run, and with a little gasp of surprise she followed him. When he came to the kitchen door he went in. Peony tried to smooth her somewhat ruffled skirts and said, 'Whatever are you doing, Hal?'

He looked desperately at her, the look of a little boy who knows he's done something wrong but saw no way to avoid it. He put a finger to his lips, and after a few moments they heard the loud voice of Blanco. 'Why, wherever have they gone? I'm sure they went this way! Why, what could have happened here? How could they have vanished?'

'Perhaps they went into the kitchen?' It was Posco's voice that suggested this.

'Impossible,' said Blanco, briskly dismissing the idea. 'Everybody knows that nobody is allowed to go into the kitchen except the Inn staff. Those who do - ' and his voice took on expression of mystery and dread ' - will regret it all their lives. So!' His voice returned to its usual jolly tone. 'Perhaps they went around the other corner. Let's go see!' Footsteps and voices alike slowly faded away, and Peony turned once again to Hal, her eyes demanding explanation.

'I'm sorry,' said he. 'I'm more than delighted to see your brothers, and to meet Miss Lily, but I was talking with you and I really must finish.'

'What more can be said? I tell you, Hal, I will not marry you until my father gives his consent. I've told you this nearly every day since you first asked me for my hand. I have not changed. True, I love you, but without my father's consent I will not and could not marry you. Please don't worry about it any further.'

'I can't help it,' said Hal miserably, and he opened the kitchen door. They stepped out into the sunshine again, but they went in the opposite direction that the others had gone. Peony walked in sorrowful silence at Hal's side, pitying him, as well as herself, with all her heart. He had not yet spoken in the beautiful manner he often did, but when he did he would be considered drunk by those more sensible and wiser hobbits. Oh, it was bitter that a hobbit could not appreciate beauty, and speak of the sunsets and rises, and of the water rippling in the pond, without everyone thinking he had taken too much to drink. What a foolish place the world was, that something so trivial as this would keep them apart!

But it did not matter much. She trusted that if it were meant for her to be his wife, some change would come across her father. She only hoped that no change would come upon Hal. She would never wish him to cease in those beautiful speeches he would make.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-09-2004, 01:55 PM

"Fáinu, where do you plan on going when you decide to leave The Shire? Will you go back home or wander around searching for some sort of meaning." For some reason Adu was asking herself the exact same questions.

Fáinu looked up at Adu, "I will perhaps return to Rivendel. Although, I have little to do there, save perhaps ride abroad with Ellodan's company. but I have not done that for many a long year."

Memories began to come back to him. The house of his brothers, welcoming him, the rejecting him. If only they knew me, then, perhaps, I would not feel so unwanted. Maybe, now I know their true faces.

"However," he continued at last, "If you so wish, I could stay here, at least until word comes of Hama. Perhaps then we can keep each other company." If anything, the latter was what he wished for, and had wished for since he was left alone in Dale. Few companions he had had, and walking for long seems hard on the feet, if you are alone.

He thought of times passed when he was at peace, seeing his future, wishing revenge on Smaug, then, he waited too long, and he was left cold and bitter. Not since that day in Dale had he been truly happy, until now. Adu was the only Elf, (Save Elrond) who had listened with compassion to his story and seemed to understand the trauma he went through. This made him feel much more at ease, he felt as if a large weight of regret had been lifted and he smiled.

"How dose one see the future?" he said, almost to himself, but he knew that Adu heard him, "before he left, Elrond said something to me, 'Fáinu, Smaug may be dead, and not by your hand, be not sour. When you can see the future, you will know that it happened for the greater good.', Still I cannot see what he meant. Perhaps, he means that when all has happened, I shall look back on it in retrospect. Who knows."

He knew he was being hypocritical here, he told her not to worry about such things, and here he was rambling on about it. He shook his head and looked back at Adu.

"Ah, don't listen to me," he said, "I go on about my problems, because I have a constant reminder." He refrained his glace from his right hand and instead looked Adu in the eyes and smiled.

Fáinu glanced out side when he thought he head hoof steps, but it was his imagination. He considered getting another drink, but did not; he felt that he should stay with Adu so that she did not feel that he was avoiding her, which he was not.

Amanaduial the archer

09-09-2004, 02:31 PM

The words mocked Aman and she felt as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed roughly at her heart. From the way Snaveling avoided her eyes, she guessed he knew what the effect would have been, although his face was impassive as he stared into the fire. Aman felt her throat stifled, but forced herself to speak, her voice as calm as his face was expressionless.

"Roa..." She felt a choke coming and stopped herself, clearing her throat and looking away, before standing, straightening herself fastidiously as she tried again. "Roa? Strange, that she did not linger longer in Gondor longer. But Elessar," she continued quickly before Snaveling could comment. "Elessar has been on the throne for thirteen years, he knows what he is doing - did he not welcome you back?"

Still chattering to push away the lump in her throat, Aman began to move away, her hands fiddling with anything, everything: stroking at her dress, flattening down her hair, running her long fingers over the surface of the wooden tables. Turning brightly to Snaveling, she smiled a wide, fake smile. "You will be wanting some food, of course, you must be tired after that ride." It was statement more than a question and Aman immediately turned away towards the kitchen, her face beginning to crumple a little, the cracks appearing in her mask.

"Aman." The word, and the hand on her arm, stopped Aman, but she didn't turn immediately. Rebuking herself inwardly for letting her charade slip, the Innkeeper turned to the man, her face expectant. Snaveling's eyes darted questioningly over her face, but they were all that showed any concern or...any emotion.

He feels nothing...

"And you, Aman, how are you?"

The woman laughed merrily, although maybe it was a tad shrill. "Me, Snaveling?" she chattered. Why, I told you all about what we have been doing, while you teased me by withholding-"

Her merry dialogue was cut off as Snaveling interrupted, his voice still low. "That is not what I asked, Aman. How are you - not Aman the Innkeeper, you: Aman. You did not tell me about her."

He feels nothing...

A faint swell of bitterness rose up, buoying the lump in Aman's throat and swaying her judgement. She smiled again, overly brightly once more, but her eyes showed something else as they met with Snaveling's. Her voice was mocking and jovial, or so it seemed - there was something else underneath, undertones in voice also to be found in it's words. She looked straight at Snaveling as she spoke. "Ah, but master Snaveling - it is only Aman the Innkeeper who you came for."

With that she turned, dignified and holding herself well, forcing herself with every inch of self restraint not to run or move faster at all. But as she did so, she stumbled on a chair leg and her face cracked slightly. Disregarding it, she ignored the pain welling up in her leg and forced herself into the kitchen, where Cook sat, and stumbled to the sink, head hanging over it as she squeezed her eyes impossibly tight in a subdued, silent grimace of pain, pain from inside - the worst kind. Behind her, she heard a chair scrape and realised that Cook was still hear, and for the first time since she had come to the Inn felt spiteful thoughts against the old hobbit woman: Is there nowhere in this blessed place where I can escape the interfering halflings?! Habit quickly knocked this away, shocked, but there was a part of her that didn't give a damn about habit though: a new part, a part which had been awakened with new vigour, and energy, and hope for it's life - a part which had been struck and sent sprawling in the mud of rejection when Snaveling had said his true purpose.

I am a pretty, bright domestic bird: caged, ornamental, she sings her bright, ridiculous song, over and over and over, while she listens to the word of the master who feeds her titbits while she falls in love with his caress.

And begins to hate his sweetheart.

Aman felt her hands tighten, spreading themselves out so hard that they shook. "I...I am fine thank you, Vinca. Just a...a pain." Out of the sight of Cook, Aman's mouth twisted wryly at the truth of the statement that the hobbit wouldn't realise. "Could you do me a favour please? There is a woman outside who wanted a room for the night..."

"Of course, of course, dear, take your time." The chair creaked and the sound of the old hobbit bustling across the stone floor was heard. She patted Aman considerately on the lower back, but that was all: she had been around young people and Big Folk enough to know that there are times when their mysterious ways simply convey a need to be alone. The old gentlehobbit had never understood it herself but, ee, there was nowt as strange as folk, as her old gaffer had used to say. As Aman listened to Cook wandering off purposefully into the Common Room, her fists began to clench: as the door shut, her hands slammed down against the rims of the sink on either side of the basin, her face tight as she struck back the tears. The pain was a distraction, but not enough to mean anything. Her eyes strayed to the knife and her face hardened...

And so the litte bird begins to hate his sweetheart...

...but she stopped herself immediately, lifting a hand to smack herself suddenly across the face. No. Not that far. Never that far.

He was a man, just a man; had she not seen hundreds, of every race, pass through this Inn? They came, they went, as everyone did; no matter who came, they always inevitably left.

"Everyone leaves me..." Aman whispered softly, sadly, melancholy seeping through the anger. Her green eyes sparkled and as she closed them a tear peered out before launching itself down her reddened cheek. Flinging her head back, she inhaled sharply, blinking away the tears: this would not do, this would never do.

"Stop being stupid, you silly girl," she snapped to herself quietly. Crossing briskly to where the plates of supper were laid out, she selected one with great subconcious care and, as an afterthought, poured a generous cup of black tea with it. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the Common Room door open with her foot and pasted the smile back on.

"Supper is served, ladies and gentlemen," she announced clearly. The ringleader. Trapped in her own circus.

Primrose Bolger

09-09-2004, 06:28 PM

Ginger’s tray was empty of food. She stood at a distance from the table Cook had set her to serve and nodded her head in a satisfied manner. The Hobbits who had been working on the cottage were tucking into their heaping plates of food with the great gusto of men who have worked hard all day. Only a few short phrases passed between them, the words slurred slightly round mouthfuls of food. ‘Taters, please!’ And ‘Jam, here, mate!’ Those asking for thirds already, she could see easing undone the top button of their waistbands.

Ferdy’s eyes were on his plate as she glanced toward him. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she recalled him standing up to help her unload the platters of food from the serving tray. She’d thanked him politely and he’d mumbled some response. The eyes of the other lads slid from him to her in a knowing way, and the two nearest him had nudged him none too discretely as he sat back down. She’d almost giggled, but her glance had caught the considering look that Andwise was giving her. She gasped a bit, then red faced at his perusal of her, turned and made her way back toward the kitchen.

Cook was just coming out to the Common Room and Ginger raised her empty tray to her and nodded at the kitchen door. She only pushed the door open a slight bit when she heard someone’s soft, sad voice whisper a few words.

‘Everyone leaves me . . .’ It was the Innkeeper, her cheeks ruddy, a single tear hanging precipitously from her jaw. Ginger backed out and closed the door softly, but not before she heard Aman say aloud, ‘Stop being stupid, you silly girl . . .’ Uncertain what to do, Ginger backed away further and found herself at the bar. She put her serving tray atop it, and looked about, perplexed.

Aman came sailing through the door, then, and into the Common Room. Plate of food in one hand, mug of tea in the other. And a smile pasted on her face which did not reach out to enliven the rest of her features.

Ginger spied Cook, just handing over the care of a lodger wanting to be shown her room to one of the servers. Sidling up near to where Cook stood, Ginger waited for her to finish with the lodger and turn her attention to her.

Cook turned her broad face to the girl with a questioning look. ‘Well . . . problems?’

‘Oh not with me, Miz Bunce,’ Ginger said shaking her head. ‘But I think there’s something wrong going on with Miz Aman.’ She nodded her head toward where the Innkeeper sat, pushing her food about on her plate with her fork. The scene she had witnessed just moments before came spilling out.

‘Is there something we should do?’

Firefoot

09-09-2004, 06:31 PM

Lily was thankful that Blanco was leading the way, because that way he could not see the small, amused smile she wore. She was almost positive that Hal and Peony had not simply turned a different way from them, but had slipped off by themselves. Hal had just arrived, after all: they probably wanted some time alone, and they had been interrupted previously. Yet Blanco did not seem to understand that, so she - and Posco, she supposed, at least a little bit - humored him, following him around the corner of the Inn.

“Not here either,” said Blanco, a stumped expression on his face. “That’s odd. They couldn’t have gone that far.”

“No, they couldn’t have,” replied Lily absently. Slipping off... that’s not such a bad idea, except it would leave Blanco by himself. Maybe later. “Maybe they went back inside.”

“I don’t think so,” said Blanco. He was clearly thinking hard. “Do you think they might have gotten down to the stables? Why don’t we go see.” Lily shook her head slightly, but followed along anyway, if for no other reason than because the fresh air felt good after an afternoon inside. As they walked, Blanco picked up where he had left off in his previous monologue. Lily kept an interested look on her face, though in truth she drifted off, still wondering how she might get some time alone with Posco later that evening. She wasn’t sure how much time she had left before he was leaving for home, so she wanted to do it soon. The trouble was how...

“Here we are!” announced Blanco. Posco said, “We can split up-” Lily’s heart soared for a moment. But Blanco interrupted him, and what he said made it fall again. “Yes, yes, we can look faster that way. Posco, you can check around the outside and Lily and I will look inside.”

Nurumaiel

09-09-2004, 09:50 PM

Posco gave Lily a rather despairing look and then, with a shrug, moved away. Blanco opened the door to the stable and went in, and after a brief hesitation Lily followed him. The door closed behind them, and Blanco began softly calling for Peony and Hal. Lily did likewise. They searched here and there, and at last Blanco stopped and said, 'Ah, what a silly little fool I am. They can't be here.' He looked towards Lily, but she did not question him, so with a bit of a pout he answered the question he was hoping she would ask. 'They can't be here because they would have either had to encircle the entire building, which we know they didn't do, unless they were running very fast, or they would have had to go back along the way they came, and they would have passed us by.'

'Then shall we go out?' said Lily, her voice light, but a note of anxiousness in her voice. Blanco looked keenly at her, and he sighed. He was more than certain that she wanted to go back to Posco. She was going towards the door, but he called to her to stop, and he went to her, and he looked despairingly at her. 'Miss Lily,' he said after a brief pause, 'would you tell me exactly how you feel about my brother?'

Hal and Peony had made their way back to the Common Room, where Hal had led her to a table in a dark corner of the Inn. 'Oh, come now,' said Peony, laughing, 'we can't hide back here. And why? You have already spoken to me.'

'I'm not done speaking to you yet,' said Hal rather grimly.

Peony sighed. 'How many times must I tell you?' she said. 'I cannot until my father gives permission.' Hal shot her a look of defiant desperation, and seated himself. 'Besides,' Peony went on, 'we cannot hide back here. Blanco would spot us, surely, and Bingo and Marcho have already seen us.'

'Perhaps we would have a little more time alone,' said Hal. 'Peony, when is the last time I have seen you alone?'

'When was the last time it was necessary?' she asked. 'There is nothing you can say to me but what you would say in the presence of others. Anything else you might say I have already answered.' He looked into her eyes for a few moments, and then he dropped his head and sighed sorrowfully. She reached out and touched his arm, smiling. 'Courage, Hal!' she said. 'I said wait; I did not say no. I hope still. Cannot you hope as well?'

Hal gave a nod that was barely perceptible, and he said nothing.

piosenniel

09-10-2004, 02:03 AM

‘Best we leave her to her own thoughts and habits for now,’ said Cook, speaking low as she drew Ginger aside. ‘The Big Folk have their own way of facing down problems. Somewhat like those snapping turtles down at The Pool, or so I’ve come to think. They draw in their heads and legs all tight beneath their hard shells. And my, oh my, but they are snappish indeed if you try to prod them.’

Ginger furrowed her brow and looked over toward the Innkeeper. ‘My sister and I once tried to pry out one of those turtle’s heads when we were little. Lilly, she poked and prodded, and thumped on the old fellow’s shell.’ Ginger shook her curls at the memory. ‘Nearly bit her fingertip off, that old snapper did.’

‘Exactly!’ agreed Cook, nodding at the conjured image. ‘She’ll either come round,’ she went on, jutting her chin at Aman, ‘or she won’t. That’s just the way with them.’

Cook looked over toward the table where Derufin, Andwise, and the lads all sat. ‘Looks to me as if dessert should be offered round . . . don’t you think?’ she reached up to tuck a stray red curl behind the girl’s ear. ‘There! Now you look just fine,’ she went on, straightening Ginger’s apron a bit. Ginger picked up her tray and scurried off to the kitchen, giving the table where Aman sat a wide berth.

starkat

09-10-2004, 08:29 AM

Gwenneth placed her tools down with a sigh. She had given Elenath a full going over and was a little tired. Bidding her horse good night, the elf headed back towards the Inn.

She had seen the Innkeeper come in from a distance, but had not spoken to her. Gwenneth thought that she might search out the innkeeper and ask her about a couple of the horses in the barn. Aman was nowhere to be seen at first. Just as Gwenneth took a seat at a table, Aman came out and began serving dinner.

The young elf maid noticed that Aman seemed preoccupied and decided not to say anything. Instead she looked around the room at the others. She recognized several patrons that she had seen before.

A plate of food and a glass of tea were set before her and Gwenneth smiled at the server. She realized that she was very hungry and began to eat.

Witch_Queen

09-10-2004, 08:54 AM

Adu sat there staring at the floor. She didn't know what else to say. She figured that Count would be awake now. "Fáinu, do you perhaps have a horse? Mine is in the stables and it would be nice to go out for a ride. Count could use the exercise and I could really use the fresh air." Standing she motioned Fáinu to follow her. The stables wasn't but a short walk and it would do her some good to get away from such merriment. He understands me more than I do. Perhaps we aren't that different. Maybe, just maybe he won't leave me for a while. Lets just hope Hama does come back to me. I just don't want my father to be right. I will amount to something in my time in Middle Earth.

Going through her mind Adu could hear the words from her father. "Aduthondiel you will always be alone. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't even matter anymore. You have already began the road that will lead to your own downfall. You are like your mother. Unfortunately you are strong like me. Your stubborness is something you should be happy with. 'Cause not all things are given to you by your parents. You know what I mean, if you mother was still here with you then you would be as spoiled as all the other females." "Being raised by my father was the worst part of it all. He molded me into the elf I am today. Yet even now I know that all he wanted was for me not to be like my mother. Now look at me. Look at what I have become." Adu realized that she wasn't talking to herself anymore. Her words were almost directed to Fáinu.

Realizing what she was doing Adu quickly stopped her mumbling and even stopped walking. She turned towards Fáinu, "I'm sorry, my father was a bad man, though everyone else said different I knew him better than everyone else. My mother died when I was young. She was killed by one of the spiders Bilbo woke up. Sadly for me I was raised by him and even now I am glad he has left these lands. Fáinu, it is wierd we are from two different areas yet our history and our pain links us together." She knew that her words were not as she had meant them. The way they sounded only confused Adu. Deep down inside there was one word Adu didnt' want to say. Yet before she could shut her mouth it came out. "Fáinu, perhaps this is fate."

Hookbill the Goomba

09-10-2004, 09:13 AM

Yet before she could shut her mouth it came out. "Fáinu, perhaps this is fate."

At this Fáinu's smile faded. Fate was a word that had haunted him for a long time. He looked about the stable for his horse; it was standing in the far corner and eating some hey. He led the horse out of its standing place and stopped it just in front of Adu. He was using this as time to think of how to react to what Adu had said.

"You speak of fate as if you understand It." he began, "I thought I did, but it is now hidden from me. For now, my fate is shrouded in cloud and dust." He placed his left hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Do not tempt fate, it has a nasty habit of hewing off hope like a limb." he smiled at her trying not to put her into despair,

"I cannot see the future in myself, however, in thee, I perceive that your future is long and arduous, yet I do not think you shall be alone for ever. That is not your fate, as I can see it." He hoped that this would cheerer her up, and he smiled as he lead his horse out of the stables and awaited Adu to follow.

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-10-2004, 09:49 AM

Snaveling watched in dismay as Aman retreated into herself. He knew well what it was like to live behind a mask, and could see the contours of the one that she was trying to wear, as well as the shape of her true feelings beneath it. He knew the ache of an unrequited affection, and was not unaware of the bitter irony of their situation. Her words came back to him: it is only Aman the Innkeeper who you came for. The truth of those words stung him deeply with shame and regret. He should not have returned to disturb the Innkeeper in her life, but the purpose of his quest gripped him so that he could not do other than come here. Here is where he had met Roa, here is where he had the best chance of finding her again.

Despite his wish to respect Aman’s privacy he was anxious for news of the Ranger, and it was only with the greatest effort of will that he was able to prevent himself from joining Aman at her meal and asking for more news. He did not wish to cause her any more grief, but he could tell that for the time being there was not way he could speak with her without making the situation worse. He cast about for another option, and his eyes landed upon one of the hobbit lasses working as a serving maid as she emerged from the kitchen, her tray laden with food. She was new to him but she seemed to know what she was about. It occurred to Snaveling that if Roa had come through the Inn recently, this hobbit lass would be sure to know about it. The fact that she was new also appealed to him, for perhaps she was not yet aware of his history at the Inn…

The room was growing warm so he removed his cloak and cast it upon an empty chair at a small table. Seating himself, he called out politely for the lass. She looked at him pertly and came to the table. “Would you like some supper, Sir?” she asked. A lifetime spent as a vagabond is hard to shake loose, and Snaveling was immediately wary of her tone, for in it he sensed some slight reluctance toward him. Was the lass aware that he was the cause of Aman’s distress?

He smiled at her. “As a matter of fact, yes, I would like some supper. But might I trouble you with a question first?” As he spoke he nudged a chair toward her with his foot by way of invitation. The lass did not sit down, but looked at him, her eyes slowly growing more serious.

“What would you like to know, sir?” was all she said.

“Well, for the first, your name if you don’t mind giving it to me. I am Snaveling.”

The lass’s eyes betrayed nothing at the mention of his name. She replied simply, “I’m called Ginger”

“Thank you, Ginger. I am looking for a friend of mine,” he began as carefully as he could. “A woman named Roa. She is a Ranger, quite young with red hair and green eyes,” his heart caught at the memory, “she was once a regular at the Inn, and may have been through here some months ago. Have you seen her?”

piosenniel

09-10-2004, 11:48 AM

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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

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.

piosenniel

09-10-2004, 11:49 AM

It is a fair evening in the Shire.

The lamps are lit in The Green Dragon.

Supper is now being served - roast lamb, taters, garden fresh green peas with butter. Apple-Brown-Betty for dessert.

Plenty of ale, wine, tea, and cold, clear water from the Inn well for parched throats.

Primrose Bolger

09-10-2004, 11:54 AM

‘Oh Sir!’ returned Ginger, seeing the gentleman was certainly eager for news of his friend. ‘I’m sorry to be of no help to you. But I’ve only just come to the Inn for this week.’ Rebalancing the tray of Apple-Brown-Betty on her hand, she hurried on with her explanation. ‘There’s to be a handfasting here at the Inn, come the end of the week. Many of us lasses have been sent in by our mums to help Cook out.’

She saw his expression fall at this bit of news. ‘There’s Ruby . . . there by the bar – pulling half-pints for the thirsty fellows. Ask her. If anyone should know about who’s come and gone through the Inn it might be Ruby Brown.’

Fallon and Gil, a few half-pints themselves under their loosened belts, had both taken their napkins from their collars and were waving wildly at her as their tablemates cheered them on. ‘Sorry, Sir,’ she said again, giving him the briefest of bobs as she stepped away from his table. ‘I’ve some lads with sweet-tooths wanting their dessert.’

Firefoot

09-10-2004, 05:02 PM

"Miss Lily," said Blanco. "Would you tell me exactly how you feel about my brother?" Lily felt herself go cold. The question was not completely unexpected, but it hit her hard just the same.

"I... I love him." The words, though not loud, were easily audible in the silent barn. Lily did not wait for his response. She had been almost to the door when he had called her back in, and a few steps she was outside. Letting the door swing shut behind her, she fled. She did not return to the inn, but rather around the other side of the barn. There was a large tree, with branches low enough for her to swing herself up among the leaves. She sat there in a fork in the branches, gasping for breath. She was not sure why she had reacted so strongly, but somehow the question had seemed so bold, so personal. Had she really been so afraid of his reaction that she had needed to get away that quickly? Deep inside, she knew the answer was yes. Then, being so flustered she could hardly think clearly, she had offered the bluntest answer she could now imagine. The words were true, of course, but admitting them out loud in such a way had awaken something deep inside her.

Lily wasn't sure how long she sat in the tree, but she knew if that Blanco and Posco would come looking for her if she was away any longer, if they hadn't already. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she pushed off from the low branch and landed lightly on her feet. Lily knew her only real choice was to return to the inn, and she steeled herself to walk around the far side of the barn. Neither of the twins were in sight, so she went alone up to the Inn and prepared to walk inside.

Nurumaiel

09-10-2004, 07:22 PM

As the evening shadows fell, Lily left the stable and left Blanco alone. He stared blankly at the door, and he then he promptly sat down on the ground. Oh, he had known it, surely he had known it, and he had known it for some time. But he had always dared hope that perhaps she did not love him yet, for maybe then there would be a chance. There was no chance now, for she loved him. And when a lass loved a lad, she did not change her heart. Love did not change. Was it not so? Yet... at one time, had he not loved the brown-eyed lassie, the sweet little Marigold Hilldweller, who loved him well? No, but he just had a fickle heart, and as the realization came to him that very heart sunk. He was fickle. Maybe he would love another girl tomorrow, and forget Lily. He could never be happy in marriage. He would love a girl and marry her, and then he would one day stop...

Oh, oh, oh! but hadn't Lily been the sweetest, kindest, gentlest little thing he had ever seen? But Marigold was sweet, and kind, and gentle as well, and he had brought her flowers, and she had lifted her large brown eyes up to him, with the golden-brown curls falling on her rosy cheeks, and his heart had beat fiercely, fiercely! Flittings of a song came to his mind then, a song he had sung of Marigold as he sat in the moonlight by the Brandywine dreaming of her, and they pained him....

Dear are her charms to me,
dearer her laughter free,
dearest her constancy...

Her constancy! Marigold was the very soul of constancy! She had loved him for so long, and had more than likely always trusted that he loved her, and small blame to her for that. He had gone off before, and she had always been there to see him off and wish him well, and the first to run out to greet him at his return. Would the most charming hobbit lad in the land come to sweep her off her feet, she would continue to gaze unwaveringly at him, at Blanco Brandybuck, loving him as much as ever.

When, like the dawning day....
Love sends his early ray....

What makes his dawning glow
changeless through joy and woe?
Only the constant know...

Only the constant know. Oh, he would never know, for he was not constant. At this time he should be thinking of Marigold, and Marigold alone, even though Lily was beautiful and kind. Marigold was probably thinking of him this very moment, with all trust, and he was weeping that Lily loved his brother!

Truth is a fixed star...

Yes, but what was the truth? Did he love Lily? Oh, yes, yes, he did! Did he love Marigold? He had loved her, yes, but he did not any longer. Then why, why did she keep coming to his mind? Constant Marigold! Oh, would not everyone be happy if he could find it to be true that he loved Marigold? Lily could marry Posco, and he could marry Marigold, and all would be well. But he did not love her, not any longer. And as he thought of this another song came to his head, and it said:

In constancy to her I love -
the girl I've left behind me.

'Would that I did,' he moaned, 'would that I did love her!' And he bowed his head and sat in silent misery.

Envinyatar

09-11-2004, 01:44 PM

Pushing back his chair from the table, Derufin smiled as he looked at his Hobbit companions. ‘You would think,’ he murmured to himself, watching them hail the new serving girl, Ginger, ‘that as big as I am in comparison to them, that I could out eat them.’ He chuckled as the lads hands went out for the bowls of dessert, and at their clamor for the thick sweet cream to pour atop it. ‘By the One, I’m no match even to keep up with them!’

Andwise, too, had moved his chair back from his place and waved off the offer of something sweet. Interesting, though, thought Derufin, how his voice gentled as he spoke his refusal and gave his thanks for the offer. Something was going on, he mused. Since Cook had had her private little conversation with Andwise, he seemed more thoughtful. And the man could not help but notice how his gaze often went from the girl to his son and back again, as if her were considering something in a new light.

The Hobbit pulled out his pouch of tobacco and offered the Stablemaster a pipeful. Filled, tamped, and lit, the smoke from the pipes curled upward together in lazy spirals. Derufin’s eye fell on the fellow who had spoken to Ginger, wondering what he was about – what did he want of her. His gaze lingered long on him, watching as the man’s eye swept round the room, then was cast downward as if brooding.

Derufin pulled his attention away from the man and watched the others in the Inn. There was Buttercup, flirting outrageously with some of the regulars; there was Ruby, smiling as she filled the mugs for thirsty Hobbits and Men. And there, a bit pale behind the fading red stains on her high cheekbones was Aman. She moved through the crowd as always, that certain air of self-possession evident in her actions. Or so one who hadn’t known her long would see . . . but the laughter at some Hobbit’s witticism seemed a little forced tonight; her eyes too bright . . . and he wondered if it was that she held back tears . . .

Amanaduial the archer

09-11-2004, 04:50 PM

The Innkeeper grinned widely at one of the regulars as she delivered another ale to him, and he attempted drunkenly to flirt with her hopelessly. Aman laughed with him and pretended to scold him. Luckily, he was too drunk to realise that her laugh was slightly strained. Walking back to the bar, Aman cast her eyes around the room lightly, checking that the denizens of the busy room seemed content, for now at least. Her eyes caught on Snaveling and her step faltered slightly, before she looked away, holding her head high. As she avertd her gaze from the raven haired man, her eyes caught those of another: Derufin. For a moment, they held, and he cocked his head onto one side through the haze of pipe smoke in front of his face, his dark eyes searching hers. Aman returned the gaze for a second, then turned away, walking back to the bar, ignoring his concerned look.

What does he know? From the look of Snaveling now, he would think him a respectable man, as they all do: when he came first he was nothing of the sort, a ruffian, mistrusted by all...nearly all... Aman recalled how she had listened to Snaveling and shown him kindness, where Roa had shown him only spite. Did that count for nothing?

Ringing the bell at the bar, she called, "Supper ending now, ladies and gents, last orders for food now please!" Closing her eyes for a few moments, she felt the ache in her limbs and her head: she had not rested since she had come in from riding from the East Road, and from several hours riding her limbs were stiff and protested. She needed to sleep...

No. He might see it as defeat. He would not defeat her, he and his precious ranger woman. And so she kept on, not aware of how far she was pushing herself, mentally and physically - but it was noticed by the stablemaster, watching her with his still eyes, and the black Numenorian on the other side...

Beserker_Warrior

09-11-2004, 07:27 PM

Bakathirin walked into the Green Dragon Inn.It was a peaceful,quiet morning.There were hobbits walking around and serving people breakfast,ale,and other types of food.He did not pay close attention to any of these details.He was looking for a man from the north, a ranger,as he was. This man's name was R'iven.

Bakathirin did not see him at all,in any corner of the inn and so he turned and walked outside. Bakathirin was 6 feet,6 inches tall( 2 meters).His face and head were cloaked ,but if one looked closely they could tell that he had dark brown hair and a kingly face. There was an unearthly glint in his eye as one who has great knowledge and prowess. He had a noble stature and yet he was weary. He carried a sword forged by the great elvish smiths, a curved knife given to him by Elrond before his departure and a bow of the Galdrim given for valor in the fight against Dol Guldur. Yet for all his weapons from many different places of the world he was from Eryn Lasgalon.

For many long years he had worked along side humans and elves against the evil power of Sauron.Now that fight was over, but there were still evil things in the world as their always would be and because of these evil things he was looking for R'iven, Bakathirin carried news of an uprising of evil on the borders of Buckland.The ents , led by Treebeard were starting to clean up the filth of Saruman,the elves had cleansed Mirkwood now Eryn Lasgalon and now this! Why would R'iven not be at the appointed place at the appointed time.

After roaming the city looking for Bakathirin R'iven gave up the search and turned to go back to the inn when he bumped into someone "Oh forgive me I .... !Bakathirin were have you been I 've been scouring the town looking for you! What news has Suefenel sent with you??"

Nurumaiel

09-12-2004, 01:09 PM

As Posco wandered back towards the stable after unsuccessfully searching for his sister and Hal, he saw a faint rustling in one of the trees that stood nearby, and he paused, gazing earnestly up into its depths. There was no further movement or noise, and so with a shrug he moved towards the stable. As he drew near, however, he glanced back at the tree and he was more than a little surprised to see Lily spring lightly to the ground. It was curious that she should be out here rather than searching in the stable. And if she and Blanco had finished their searching, why should she be here and not Blanco? Posco was intrigued, and he desired to ask her, but as he stepped forward to call to her he drew back with a blush, too shy to raise his voice so high.

Lily glanced about her, in a searching manner, and she moved then towards the stable, yet as she approached it she did not enter but turned her steps and went around by the far side. Posco followed, and as she began to turn the corner and direct herself towards the Inn, he raised enough courage to call her softly. She turned, and her face brightened, and her rosy cheeks flushed, and for a moment he felt dizzy gazing upon the loveliness of her face. But, with a countenance that betrayed nothing of his feelings, he approached her, and offered her his arm, saying, 'Miss Lily, before it grows too dark, would you care to stroll about the grounds with me?'

Firefoot

09-12-2004, 04:23 PM

Lily took his arm gratefully, replying, "A walk would be just the thing. Thank you for asking." Her voice was a good deal more composed that she was at the moment. The heat was going out of her face, but her thoughts were still frantic. How much did he see? Oh, dear, I thought no one was nearby... Posco said nothing of it, and she began to hope that he had only seen her going up to the inn. She was calming down as they walked though, and she was comforted by his presence. It was exactly what Lily had wanted, and neither of them said anything for a while. Then Lily knew she must say something soon, for if she waited too long it would be time to go back inside and she might not have another chance.

“Posco?” she said softly. Her heart was hammering; she wondered how it was possible that he could not hear it. Seeming to sense her mood, Posco replied in kind. “Yes, Lily?” She looked over at him, and saw that he too was watching her expectantly. It’s not too late, you can say something else, she thought, and promptly dashed it. It was now or never. She whispered, “I love you.”

Nurumaiel

09-12-2004, 04:44 PM

Posco felt the blood rush to his face, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to her in utter amazement. When she saw the expression on his face she paled, and stared desperately up at him, as if waiting for some proclaimation of doom to fall upon her. Quickly her took both her hands in his to reassure her, and he vainly sought for words to say in his mind. She loved him! It was too beautiful, too joyous to be true! She would be willing to be his wife, she wanted to be his wife. His eyes flamed with love as he gazed down on her, and he thought how easy it would be to bend towards her and touch her lips... but, no! It wasn't proper. He had known her only a day, and even if he loved her in that short a time, it wasn't custom to become engaged to a girl in that short a time, or even tell her that you loved her. He wanted to tell her, but he could not. She'd be made a laughing-stock in front of all her friends, and an object of scorn among others, and he couldn't have that. And as for himself, well! His mother had always raised him by the strictest code of honour. 'Never, Posco dear,' she had said, 'marry a lass, no matter how much you love her and she loves you, unless you've known her a good amount of time already. A sufficient amount of time, dearie, to know that you really do love her and that you will all your life. You don't want to be sorry later. And it will bring shame to you and to her, Posco dear, if you marry the girl after knowing her only a little while, because it isn't natural.'

The thoughts sped through Posco's head as Lily looked expectantly up at him, waiting for his reply. He saw that she was waiting, and he did not know how to reply in a seemly fashion. She waited, and waited some more, and at last, seeing nothing else to say, he stammered out in a confused manner, blushing in his shyness, 'Do you? Well, that's very nice, Lily.'

Firefoot

09-12-2004, 05:22 PM

Lily wanted to sit down and cry right there. She had been sure that Posco had loved her too, and so she had offered her heart to him, and he had broken it. For if he did love her, why hadn’t he said so? Her lower lip trembled, and she blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears welling up in her eyes. Why, Posco, why? How could you do this to me? her mind cried out. She was confused, terribly confused. All his actions and words to her contradicted this new message. Be bold, Marcho’s letter had said. Be patient. The words came unbidden to her, and for a moment she had hope. Could it be that she still had a chance? She did not think so. And how to recover from so great an admission? She fumbled about for something to say. She found nothing, and so she turned again and began to walk. Posco fell into step beside her.

I am sure Blanco will be thrilled, she thought bitterly. Then she realized how negative she was being. ‘There is nothing that hard work and determination can’t get you,’ her father used to say. Was it true? she wondered. She was heart-broken and hopeless, but she had to try. But where to start...

“It’s a lovely night,” noticed Lily wistfully. She was thankful for the dim light, for it hid her wince. Where had that come from? That was really profound, she thought sarcastically. How do you expect to win his heart like that?

Nurumaiel

09-12-2004, 05:49 PM

'Why, yes, Lily, it is a lovely night,' said Posco, and he fidgeted restlessly. He had an idea that he had said something wrong, and that Lily was upset, but he did not know why. He always heard his father talking about how girls grew sentimental when it came to confessing love, but somehow he could not imagine this plague falling upon Lily. She walked a little away from him now, her little hand no longer on her arm, and her sweet eyes no longer looking up at him. His heart sank within him. Why was it that, after just confessing to love him, she turned coldly away from him like this? Perhaps she had just said it because she had been inspired by the dusky twilight that had descended upon them. That would be a shame, indeed! Maybe she was cold towards him now because she wished to make clear without words that she had not really meant what she said. He began to feel despairing, but he did not want his sorrow to overwhelm his courtesy, so he moved a little away from her so as not to impose himself upon her.

They were going towards the Inn, and Posco realized that he had not eaten yet. Then again, he realized that he could not eat even if he were hungry. His heart and mind were in turmoil. The only thing he could possibly desire was a mug of ale. Lily was standing in the doorway, and the light from within fell upon her and him, and he gazed up at her with adoration which he attempted to hide. Touching his forelock politely, he said, 'I bid you good evening for the present moment, Lily. I'm going to go search for my brother. I hope I shall see you when I return.' For a moment he suspected that he saw tears flash in her eyes, but with the light behind her it was impossible to tell, and all he was certain of was that she had turned and gone within, closing the door behind her.

Posco slowly turned away and made his way to the stable, too upset for musings. Thoroughly convinced that Lily did not really love him, for she had behaved so distantly towards him after her confession, he could do nothing but dwell sorrowfully upon this. Poor, silly lad! He did not understand in the least the heart of Lily, which was like the heart of any other lass in the world. When a girl steps out of comfort and goes so far as to tell a lad she loves him, when by all rights he should be the first to say it, she does not expect her statement to be answered in a way that is not likewise, and if the answer is not a similiar statement she cannot fall back to her usual cheery self. Posco knew nothing of this, but merely felt certain that Lily did not really love him.

Posco crossed the stable floor and stood before Blanco, who still sat silent and miserable. 'Blanco,' said Posco, 'I am very unhappy. Lily told me that she loves me and I think she's changed her mind now.' Blanco had resolved not to look at his brother, but at these words he looked up in utter amazement, and managed to stammer, 'She's changed her mind? Impossible!'

'Well, after she said it she started acting very odd,' said Posco. 'She wasn't happy and cheerful like she usually is, but she was polite... too polite, that is, for she's always been courteous. And she walked farther away from me then she used to, and she didn't say very much.'

'Why, what did you say to her?'

'Nothing, except that I agreed that it was a lovely night.'

'No, no, I do mean,' said Blanco earnestly, 'what did you say to her when she told you she loved you?' And he stood up, gazing anxiously at his brother.

'Well, I told her it was a very nice thing,' said Posco, 'and I wanted more than anything to say I felt the same towards her, but I couldn't when I'd known her only a day.'

'So you just said it was nice?' said Blanco, and his voice was strained. Posco nodded, and Blanco promptly struck out at him and hit him in the jaw. Posco sat down very quickly, and blinked up at his brother. He touched his jaw uncertainly, and then he said, 'Blanco, you've never done anything like that to me in your life, at least not since we were very small.'

'No, I didn't,' said Blanco, sitting down sorrowfully in front of his brother. 'And, Posco, I tell you I'm sorry now, but I couldn't help it. I'm so miserable at myself and so angry with you.'

'But whyever are you angry at me?'

'Because you've probably hurt Lily's dear little heart.'

'Oh,' said Posco, and nothing more. He could not understand it. Surely Blanco was wrong, for he had said nothing unkind to Lily. Vaguely he realized what sort of answer she was expecting, but he set his jaw (though it did cause him a little bit of pain, considering the blow that had just been dealt to it) and shook his head. He should not answer correctly, at least not yet. He would explain to her if he must, but he could not make any promises until he was certain he loved her. Absolutely certain.

starkat

09-12-2004, 06:14 PM

Gwenneth had finished her dinner. Being alone, she had time to think. Her travels so far had been interesting. The rangers, elves, and hobbits that she had met had told interesting tales of their homes and of their travels.

The young elf maid got up from her table and headed outside. She decided to wander around the Inn grounds for awhile. After a few minutes, Gwenneth took a seat under a tree and looked up at the night sky.

I wonder what my family is doing. Right now everyone must be gathered around for storytelling or singing. Her thoughts flew to the note she had recieved not long after reaching the Green Dragon and the meeting with one of her brothers. Father wants me to come home and cut my journey short. I am not ready. My journey through these lands has just begun.

A tear slid down the elf's cheek. Her love for her family was real, but she was young for an elf and wanted to travel more before she left Middle Earth. Voices drew her attention and she watched as two hobbits went there seperate ways after a walk.

Gwenneth returned her gaze to the night sky and sighed. The conversations that she had taken part in today had kept her from missing her family and from thinking about her conversation with her brother. Her thoughts turned to her time in the Shire and she smiled to herself.

Relaxing a little, the young elf decided to stay where she was for a little while. The sounds of the Inn could be heard as well as the sounds from the stables. Gwenneth reached her hand up to the jewel she wore around her neck and she leaned back against the tree.

Firefoot

09-12-2004, 06:25 PM

When Lily entered the Inn by herself, she did not feel like joining the jovial crowd in the common room. She could see that Marcho and Bingo saw her enter because they had tried to wave her over, but she pretended not to see them and hurried up the stairs on the other side of the room. The tantalizing smells of food followed her up, but she cared not for food right then. In fact, she felt sick. Posco had gone after Blanco, which was understandable, but all he had said was "I hope I will see you when I return." What was that supposed to mean? She wished she could sleep, but she was much too restless and despite the busy day she did not feel tired. For the first time since that morning, she looked down at herself. Her dress was splattered with mud, and there was a small tear in the hem. Her hair was tangled, and the wreath of flowers Posco had given her... it was gone! Panicked, she looked around the room as if it might have fallen off there. It must have fallen off when she climbed into that tree, she realized. It was like the last brick that broke the cart, and Lily fell down onto the floor right there and sobbed. Not loudly that anyone downstairs or in adjacent rooms could hear, but the soft, heart-wrenching tears of someone who is utterly hopeless.

When no more tears would come, she chanced to look up and saw Marcho's letter lying on her little dresser. She felt the inclination to burn it, or at least rip it to tiny shreads. Something stopped her, however, and she put the letter into her bag where she would not lose it. Suddenly she laughed. If things really were as bad as they could get, they could only get better. She did not know how they could, but certainly they would not get better while she sat up here. It strengthened her resolve, and the first step would be getting herself cleaned up. She changed her dress; it would have to be washed and mended later. She brushed out her hair as well, and washed her face with the water in the basin. She now felt much better, and returned downstairs into the Common Room.

She spotted Peony and Hal sitting together in at a corner table first, and Lily felt a wave of jealousy that she quickly subdued. She did not want to interrupt them, as they seemed very comfortable in each others' company. She saw Blanco and Marcho sitting together at the same old table by the fire, and since they were the only others that she recognized, she walked over there.

"Is everything all right?" asked Bingo. "Where are Blanco and Posco?"

"You mean they haven't come back yet?" asked Lily. "We got separated from Hal and Peony, and Blanco insisted on looking for them. We split up, and when Posco and I got back here we saw no sign of Blanco so Posco went to find him. They should be back shortly." She had purposely dodged his first question, and Marcho seemed to sense this by the look he gave her, but he passed over it in silence. She was not terribly keen on spilling her troubles out to them, and half-wished that she had one of her good hobbit-lass friends from Bree here to talk to, or perhaps her aunt. She felt slightly homesick, but that was a futile wish. Besides, if she went back to Bree she might never see Posco again. There was little more conversation between them, and they settled in to wait for the twins to return.

Witch_Queen

09-13-2004, 08:39 AM

Count was glad to be out of the stables and in fresh air. "Steady Count." Adu said as she stroke his mane. Adu was in a better mood though the day was to her just beginning. She turned as she heard someone say that supper was being served. She still didn't feel like going back inside. The air felt good to her and nothing else mattered. Fáinu was right beside her and Adu knew that perhaps everything would be ok. "Fáinu what do you know of fate. After what you have said it seems like fate has turned her back on you." She couldn't keep her mouth shut. Though she meant for it to sound serious she knew instead it sounded cold like her heart.

Adu kept on riding until she noticed that she was alone. She turned Count around. "Fáinu, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Its just... Oh never mind. I'm going to say something that I will regret. Just know that I'm sorry about that." Adu felt bad now and she knew that unless Fáinu let her know that everything was ok that she would hate herself for the rest of her life. Adu dismounted from her horse and walked over to him. Her grey eyes reflected his face and her soul. Count walked behind Adu even though she didn't have her hands on the reigns. Adu swore she over heard Fáinu say, "Adu, your eyes are the window to your soul. I understand what you mean." Instead Adu realized that deep down inside it was herself telling her that.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-13-2004, 09:34 AM

"Fáinu, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Its just... Oh never mind. I'm going to say something that I will regret. Just know that I'm sorry about that."

Fáinu leaped up upon his horse and looked at her.

"There is nothing to forgive." he said with a smile, "I only tell you what it is I feel I can see in you, I may be wrong, but then I may be rite, who can tell?"

He moved his horse, (Grey mane) forward and nodded as if to ask her to follow. They had not gone far when Fáinu thought he saw a fire in the corner of his eye. Sharply he turned his head and saw that a farmer was making a bonfire. Adu saw that Fáinu had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Fáinu’s face was pale and Adu thought he had seen something that had haunted him. soon he turned and smiled at Adu, then drew his sword. It was long and pale; the blade glittered in the little light that was about. There were runes on the blade, but the light was dim and Adu could not see them clearly. one set of runes went from the middle near the hilt upwards, another set was just above it in a curved shape.

"This, " Said Fáinu, "is Anganárí, the iron flame. I found it in the lonely mountain. When I heard that Smaug was dead, I went there and met Dwaline. While walking through the halls I saw this sword, broken into five peaces and a part of the hilt was missing.

'Why has this sword not been fixed?' I asked,
'It is an elvish sword' replied the Dwarf, 'your smything of swords is different to ours, it is difficult for us to re-forge any elvish sword. You are welcome to it.'

I picked it up and saw that the runes going upwards read; 'Falokrist' that is 'Dragon cleaver'. I thought that it was fate telling me that this sword had come to me to live up to its name."

He paused and re-sheathed the sword. Adu then saw that the hilt was silver and had yet more runes and a picture of a flame in the centre. The grip was purple and at the end was a green gem.

"I took it back to Rivendell and asked the smiths to fix it." he continued "They did so, and the scalars told me that it was probably made in the second age, and used to slay Dragons in the far north before the Dwarves were driven out. However, they did not think the name was fitting any more and so named it a new, Anganárí, and this name is in an ark shape above the original name." he paused and looked over at Adu, who looked slightly confused, "I know it dose not seem to have much to do with anything, but I feel that one day, perhaps, Anganárí will re claim its name of old. I always felt it was fate that lead me to find it... then again, perhaps I am wrong."

They stood in silence for a while. Fáinu left his sword alone and seemed to smile as stood there, no direction in which to ride did he have in mind, in fact, he did not know if he wanted to leave and return to Imladris as he had been bidden. He did not know what to do... as usual.

Lalwendë

09-13-2004, 12:54 PM

Jinniver had joined the noisy supper table occupied by Andwise, Derufin and the hobbit lads; two of the hobbits sat on either side of her and spent most of the meal trying to make her laugh. Now they were holding a smoke ring blowing contest and mocking each other with ever more ridiculous insults. Jinniver had spent suppertime with a smile on her face because of their antics and now she couldn’t help but start giggling. The two hobbits cheered when they saw they had succeeded in amusing her and bowed their heads in mock honour. “Miss Cornthrift, your smile is as beautiful as sunrise after a rainy night” said one and the other topped it by saying “And your laughter is like the sound of birds at dawn”. Jinniver laughed even more and toasted the hobbits as they all drained their tankards.

She looked around to see if anyone was coming by to refill drinks. She didn’t want to go to the bar herself as she had taken a little more drink than she knew was good for her, and she recalled her clumsy episodes of the previous evening all too well. This was strong ale, and it had got the better of many men who had drunk less than she had. But she did want at least one more drink, as she was loathe to leave such good company.

Aman soon passed by the table bearing a large pitcher of ale, and she refilled her tankard. Jinniver thanked her kindly and Aman nodded gracefully. Jinniver was immediately struck that there was something out of place about her. ‘Her smile seems forced, and though she looks jovial enough, her eyes say that she is unsettled.’ Jinniver watched the innkeeper move through the smoky, raucous room. She recognised distress when she saw it.

She noticed Aman seemed to falter as she passed by a richly dressed, intimidating looking man; his bearing was proud, and she felt almost too humble to look at him, but the ale had conquered her normal reserved self enough to allow her to take him in. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw Derufin giving the innkeeper a meaningful glance. ‘Well, there’s an interesting tale in that’ thought Jinniver to herself. Taking up the offer of a pinch of tobacco for her pipe, she chatted to the hobbits next to her while she watched to see what would unfold between these three. She hoped that she was not staring, and each time she took a drink, she peered curiously over the top of her tankard.

Hama Of The Riddermark

09-13-2004, 12:59 PM

Adu looked to the left, down the path leading to the Dragon. She had heard hoof beats coming up the path and her heart skipped a beat. The sillhouetted outline of a man loomed into view, he wore Rohan armour, with a ornately decorated helm. As the lantern light from the windows shone onto his face it revealed a weary expression, just as four more shadows came into view, they too were clad in Rohan armour. Adu looked at the closest, she saw the cloak flap in the wind, she saw the legend on it. It was of an eagle rampant inside the circle of a garter, the crest of the Haukrson family, Hama's family!

She saw his face as he removed his helm slowly, the general's plume flapped in the breeze and she saw Hama's rugged features in the darkness. Adu choked back a sob of happiness as she ran to him. He dismounted and stood, receiving her as she came, and embracing her with equal gusto as she embraced him.

His four guards dismounted and led their horses and Hama's to the stables. Hama led Adu inside with one arm around her neck. As he entered the Green Dragon he was greeted by a gasp. Many people knew the heraldry he bore was the mark of a general of Rohan, and the hobbits, who knew little of such things, simply becase of his imposing build and stern face. He sat down and called for the barmaid. When she came, she meekly took his order for two pints of ale, roast lamb, potatoes, carrots and peas, with Apple-Brown-Betty for pudding. Hama's ale came soon, and as Adu looked at him with admiration he drank it with the air of a man who has not adequately drunk for days. He finished it in under a minute and called for another one.

Fainu entered and sat down next to Adu, he looked at Hama with a slight frown that quickly disappeared as Hama returned the frown with one of his own, and narrowed his eyes. Adu, sensing the conflict quickly said, "Hama, I went searching for you, you were not at Rivendell on your return." Hama grimaced and said quickly, "I did not come via Rivendell. The remnant of Dorian's loyalists is exactly as I feared. They are maniacally loyal to the dead man. I knew they would be waiting at Rivendell, so I did not come back that way...I'm surprised ou did not see them there." Adu cast her thoughts back, yes, if she rememreed rightly there had been riders there bearing Dorin's crest and asking about Hama...

Hookbill the Goomba

09-13-2004, 01:32 PM

Fáinu sat there and looked at Hama, as if inspecting him. He was slightly suspicious of him, but he smiled and fained appreciation. He sat silently while Adu and Hama talked, but he noticed that as the converse continued, he felt forgotten. Slowly he went to the bar and bought a drink, he only drunk half of it and then stood there thinking. he was debating in his mind what he should do.

Perhaps now I should leave. Adu is happy, and I have done my deity.
Is that all it was? Deity?
No, I don't suppose it was. For I may have known her, but a little while, I feel she is a dear friend.
What of this Hama? Dost thou not trust him?
I know not. From what she hath said, he seems an honourable man.
That may be yet to be seen.
Then should I leave, or stay?
Stay a while, if it seems though art not wanted, or needed, then thou mustst depart.
I suppose so.

Fáinu looked sadly over at the table; Adu was smiling happily as she spoke with Hama. This gave him a feeling of rejection, he had felt this before, and hated his brothers all the more as the memories came flooding back... he did not know why, but he found that his good hand was resting on his sword hilt, while his other was clenched, though it hurt him.

starkat

09-13-2004, 03:09 PM

The sound of horses coming up the path woke Gwenneth. She watched as the men dismounted and entered the Inn. I must have fallen asleep. I guess I am more tired than I thought. The elf rose and dusted herself off and returned to the Inn.

Walking up to the bar, Gwenneth asked for a glass fo tea. She had discovered that the tea in the Shire was wonderful thanks to one of the people she had met in the Inn. Turning her back to the bar, the young elf maid watched the various interactions of the patrons with a smile.

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-13-2004, 07:43 PM

Snaveling sat in brood, his hunger forgotten in the wake of his failure with the barmaid. Nothing had gone right since his arrival – Aman, so long held in his memory as a dear friend – was now distant and confused in her manner to him. The first person he had approached for news of Roa had given him nothing, and as he looked about the Inn he saw little hope of better. Save Aman and one or two of the serving maids, there was nobody here that he recognised, not even Tobias Hornblower. A smile crossed his lips at the memory of his friend, and he swore that first thing tomorrow he would seek out the old hobbit. But the matter at hand was still more pressing – whom could he ask for news of the Ranger woman? There were several likely candidates in the Common Room. One, a man, had been glaring at him with suspicion since Aman had left Snaveling by the fire. Such a look did not sit well with the man of the south, and he made note of it for attention later…

Another woman caught his eye however. She was small and difficult to overlook, even in the crowded Inn, for her hair was almost like the colour of Roa’s. She sat alone at a table and also looked at Snaveling from time to time, although where the man was hostile, she was merely curious and even sought to hide her interest. Snaveling had spent a lifetime upon the fringes of human society, however, and knew what it was to be spied upon by those who did not know or trust him. Not so long ago, he would have either slunk away from eyes like hers, or looked for some mean way to pay her for her interest. But the time he had spent at Elessar’s court had done much to correct the abuse and neglect of his years in the waste. Smoothing his face with a courteous smile, he rose and crossed the room to the woman.

He felt the eyes of the man following him as he went, and again thought to himself that he would have to look into the meaning of that look…soon.

Standing politely by the table of the woman, Snaveling introduced himself and asked if he might sit. The woman appeared to be a little alarmed by his action, but indicated that she would welcome the company. As he sat, Snaveling noticed for the first time that the woman bore about her the signs of a long night the day before – he too knew all-too-well the strength and effect of halfling ale, and he could not quite hide the smile at the feeling of solidarity. If the woman noticed the smile, she did not comment on it. Instead, she put out her hand in a frank manner and introduced herself as Jinniver.

Snaveling took the hand and returned the gesture in the politest manner, as taught to him by the Chamberlain Lorant. He could feel the rough skin of the woman’s years spent in hard work, and he knew by looking at her that she was well travelled. Excellent: it boded well that she might have news of the Ranger.

“I do not think that I have seen you before,” Jinniver said, “but you seem to be known to the Innkeeper, and the Inn would seem to be known to you. Have you been here before?”

“Yes, a long time ago,” is all he answered. Once more, he found that if she were unaware of his history with this place, it would be for the better.

“May I ask what brings you here again?” she asked, her eyes quickly flicking to where Aman was working. Snaveling pretended not to see.

“I am looking for a friend of mine,” he said, and went on to describe Roa. He did not reveal why he was looking for her, or why it was so important for him to find her. “You would appear to have travelled a good deal, lady,” he concluded. “Is it possible you have seen her?”

Jinniver shook her head and said, “I’m afraid that I don’t know any Ranger woman by that name. Red hair you say? That I would remember” and she laughed lightly. “No, Mr. Snaveling, I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

Snaveling lapsed into quiet for a moment, despair already threatening to overcome him, even though his search was yet so young. Once more he felt the eyes of the man upon him, and he knew that soon his story would be known throughout the Inn. Places like this have long memories, and it was only a matter of time before everyone knew the truth. He decided that it would be best to find out as much information as he could now about the people at the Inn – particularly that man. Using the most inviting tone he could muster Snaveling said, “Well I am sorry to hear that, but I am sure that she will turn up. I wonder if I might thank you for your pains by buying you a pint of ale, or perhaps some wine? I have been away for a while and would very much like to know about the people staying at the Dragon.”

Witch_Queen

09-14-2004, 06:33 AM

Adu's heart fluttered as she saw Hama. She didn't want to believe that she actually stayed in Rivendell now. She looked back and remembered the black cloaked man who asked about Hama. She also remembered his face. It was the face of the one man she despised all her life in Rohan. Dorian's right hand man.She was never really fond of him. He had always associated Adu as Dorian's little elfmaidden. Adu had wanted to dispose of the man but Dorian wouldn't allow it. He had always threated Adu about harming any of his soldiers. She wasn't allowed to even fall in love with anyone of them. Deep down inside Adu always thought of herself as a prisoner and not a soldier. Adu smiled and came back to the situation."Hama, I shall always remain loyal to my general. I am suprised though that you came with an escort. Its not like you to stand out like that. I take it that Eomer was only happy to give you Dorian's position." Adu noticed that her new friend had left. She didn't want either of them to hate or dislike each other. Fáinu had been there for her while Hama was gone. Hama had been there almost all her life. Adu no longer considered her life in Eryn Lasgalen important now. It was the life she made in Rohan.

She motioned for Fáinu to come back and join them. Adu was happiest when she had both her friends. "Hama I am glad to serve you and no other man." Her words stuck in her mind. I am glad he is back. Without him I would always be miserable. Hama is what makes my life worth living. Thank you Fáinu for everything.

Lalwendë

09-14-2004, 09:07 AM

The noble looking man who she had been stealing glances at left his position and made his way over towards her table and to her great surprise, he introduced himself. Jinniver took in the beautifully tailored clothes and the dark eyes of the man and felt a lump rise in her throat. She was glad of the courage the ale gave her as her nerves started to tense; she was not accustomed to noble people introducing themselves to her. She had seen many unusual folk passing up and down the Greenway and into Bree, but there were few who gave the impression of being important, and these imposing people never deigned to talk with a mere nurserywoman beyond buying flowers from her. Yet this man had smiled at her in a friendly way and was courteous, and her false courage and respect for courtesy urged her to return his warm greeting.

His formal greetings were so refined that she would have blushed when he took her hand were her face not already reddened by the merriment and the ale. Bolstered by the beer, she immediately pressed him with a veiled question as to how he knew the innkeeper but he merely indicated that he was known at the inn. She rephrased her question, and was more direct this time. Instead of any mention of the innkeeper, he instead began to press her for knowledge of another young woman.

He was looking for a young ranger woman he described as having red hair. That was clearly not Aman, but why all the knowing glances between the two of them? How many young women were there who had an interest in him? What was his game? She perceived that there was more to his questions than met the eye. The man had an earnest look about him when he described the woman. Jinniver had seen rangers, it was unavoidable if you lived by The Greenway; sometimes they would stop by to obtain supplies from their farmhouse, but she could not recall having seen a red-haired woman. She laughed a little as she thought about the situation. A nobleman, sitting in a hobbit tavern, asking a nurserywoman about rangers?

Her lack of an answer seemed to disappoint the man, and he looked towards Derufin, who was stealthily watching him from the corner of his eye. Jinniver felt a sudden rush of disappointment that she could offer no help to the man. She did not want him to get up so soon; she was finding this situation all very intriguing, and, she had to admit, he was interesting in himself.

“Well I am sorry to hear that, but I am sure that she will turn up. I wonder if I might thank you for your pains by buying you a pint of ale, or perhaps some wine? I have been away for a while and would very much like to know about the people staying at the Dragon.”

"Mr Snaveling," she looked into his dark eyes and smiled. These eyes had held a little suspicion at first, but there was a lighter sparkle to them now that he had spoken. The name seemed to belong to someone other than a lordly man. "An ale would be my choice, if you are so kind as to offer."

Snaveling made to get up and go to the bar, but Jinniver stayed him with her hand. She started a little as she realised she should probably not have made such a gesture. "I am sorry. But do not trouble yourself. I am sure that Aman or one of the hobbit lasses will be by in a moment." She felt sure that Aman would not be coming by, but she could see a hobbit making her way over, as the lads were noisily shouting for more ale.

"What would you like to know?” she asked, thinking about the curious glances that had been thrown between Snaveling, Derufin and Aman. "I am but staying here a while, until a task is through, but these fine folk have made me welcome." She motioned towards the company at the table. "At the end there, that is Master Andwise, and these are his lads, and there is Derufin."

Snaveling looked across, barely moving his head as she motioned towards the man who had been watching him. He waited until she continued talking, not wanting to make it obvious that he was enquiring about people who for all he knew may be her friends. She did not continue straight away, but paused and gazed expectantly at him, as though waiting for him to ask further. He did not ask, so she carried on cautiously.

"He is the stable master. And a good man too. He is to be married soon and I am working for him, preparing a garden", She halted, aware that she had maybe said too much. She had been about to say that Derufin seemed to be held in regard by those at the inn, including Aman, but now she guessed that Snaveling would be able to put the pieces of the puzzle together for himself. She thought about changing the subject, not feeling comfortable with being asked questions herself, and then a memory struck her.

"Mr Snaveling," Jinniver blurted out, "I have remembered something." His eyebrows raised and he turned his attention from Derufin back to her. "There is, or was, one red-haired ranger. At least, my niece saw one some weeks ago, amongst the trees at the edge of our land. Whether it was a man or a woman, I don’t know”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she asked, out of concern, for he looked troubled, “Who is this woman to you?”

Hookbill the Goomba

09-14-2004, 09:34 AM

Fáinu saw Adu looking at him and so he went back to the table and sat down silently. He tried not to make himself look too noticeable; he saw Hamas men and thought they were hostile. He moved his hand away from his sword hilt and looked at Adu, then at Hama.

He said nothing and looked about the room. He felt that he was only staying out of politeness, and that they only kept him there for the same reason. Hama seemed to take little or no interest in him, save that perhaps he saw him with his hand on his sword.

He looked back at Adu with uncertainty. He still felt like was unneeded baggage that Adu no longer wanted. In a way he was happy for her, but began to remember all the terrible things his brothers had done. He knew they were wicked, but felt he could not betray them.

He stared into his mug as Adu and Hama spoke of 'old times' and of Rohan. Fáinu had never been to Rohan, and had been advised not to go thither. The nearest he'd ever been was Lothlorien, and that was still far from it.

Envinyatar

09-14-2004, 11:56 AM

Derufin caught Buttercup’s eye. The lass was across the room, just extracting herself from a table of Hobbit lads who appeared well into their cups. With a slight nod of his head, he motioned for her to come over. She gave a wave of her hand to her admirers and wove her way to his table. He drew her close, his chin flicking toward the man now talking to Jinniver.

‘Who’s that one?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘Do you know him? What’s his story?’ Buttercup’s eyes fell on Snaveling. ‘He seems too fond of the ladies,’ Derufin went on, his attention on the man’s conversation with his new friend. ‘Does he bear watching, Buttercup? Or is he just some harmless drone seeking the attention of any queen?’

Buttercup drew back at Derufin’s sharp words. It was unlike him to judge someone so harshly and especially one he had not yet met. His furrowed brow stayed her own scolding remarks; the look of concern on his face prompting her to tell him what she knew of the man. She took the stable-master aside, away from the prying consideration of the Hobbits at his table. Gestures punctuating phrases, she told him the story of Snaveling’s last visit, giving at last her own opinion of the man. ‘Not the sort we wanted in the Inn when he first arrived,’ she began, her brows raising. ‘Him or his friends. Carries some great secret about him, I know that. Though what it is I haven’t been able to ferret it out. Ruby either, for that matter . . .’

Derufin listened closely to Buttercup’s version of the man, filtering out her conjectures as he gleaned what facts he could. Aman’s name seemed to be mentioned fairly often in the narrative and he wondered if Snaveling’s appearance had brought in the dark clouds that scudded across her features in those momentary lapses of her public face.

‘And anyways, that’s what I know . . .’ ended the Hobbit, looking up to see what Derufin thought. His face was a noncommittal mask as he thanked her for the information. She frowned at his silence. ‘Bring me an ale, luv,’ he said after a long pause, a grin lighting his face then. ‘I’ve gone dry listening to you.’ She smiled and shook her head, his teasing manner restoring the easy balance between them. ‘And take two to the table where Master Snaveling sits, one for him and Mistress Jinniver. My compliments to the lady, say.’

Buttercup hurried away. He watched her as she brought the ales to Jinniver’s table. Derufin nodded to the woman and then to her companion as they looked toward where he stood. Yes . . . he will bear some watching . . . he thought. His eyes slid away from them to where the Innkeeper stood.

Amanaduial the archer

09-14-2004, 12:25 PM

Aman noticed Jinniver, the traveller, sit down beside Snaveling, and noted the sheen around the woman's eyes. Drink loosens tongues, certainly, and awakes curiousities that otherwise would have stayed quiet and humble. Now she sat beside Snaveling...why, her hair, reddish in the warm light, like even to Roa's...

Aman stopped herself immediately this time. Taking a deep breath, then walked swiftly out of the Common Room, watched with interest by a few, but not heeding their glances. Entering the heavy wooden door beside the bar, she pushed it closed behind her, slipping into the calm quiet of her office. Leaning back, she rested her head back against the cool wood of the door and sighed deeply.

The Innkeeper didn't use her bedroom that much really: sleeping was not much more than a guilty snatch in this occupation, and she had gotten used to it over the time she had been at the Green Dragon - it was like having expectant mares or training colts every day. When the Innkeeper merely wanted a few minutes to herself, it was barely worth her while to go up to her bedroom on the second floor, and at the busy times of the day around mealtimes and in the evening, it would be impractical, not to mention rather selfish, to run away to the stables every ten minutes. So her 'office' was a godsend: of course, she did occasionally use it to do work, but the Inn's accounts were usually pretty much non-existant. Besides, it would mean listing everything there: and to list presents where the peeking eyes of Ruby and Buttercup could see them...well, you may as well tell the whole world. It somewhat spoiled the surprise. Most of the time, this room was simply Aman's way of getting away, and she had used it for various purposes since she came here. Taking aside and talking to unruly customers, for example...

Opening her eyes but not lowering her head, Aman glowered underneath her eyelashes at the spot by the fireplace where two soft, slightly battered chairs slouched on the hearth. The fire hadn't yet been lit, but Aman could all too well visualise the scene of those months ago when she had taken aside a spiteful customer after he had deliberately knocked over a dozen red wine bottles, sending them crashing to the stone floor of the cellar. And she had reasoned with him. Firelight playing on noble features, dull black hair like the feathers of an injured raven, melancholy words of a harsh faraway life spilling from moody eyes and flat voice to be illuminated in the room, illuminated in the sight of the Innkeeper...

Crossing the room, she ran her hand across the softened leather of the nearest chair's back contemplatively. Yes, she had talked to Snaveling in here, several times - she had tried to understand him and had found more depth than she maybe would have liked to contemplate. But that was the blessed trouble with him! Frowning, Aman dropped into the chair and crossed her legs as she glared venemously across at the opposite chair where Snaveling had sat. Oh yes, he sat there, he recounted tales the ranger woman would never had wished to listen to, would never, because of her loyalty to Elessar, have wanted to listen to or believe, words of a land Aman knew little of - kings and traitors and the beautiful white tree of Gondor. Roa would not have had a word of it, firm and...and stubborn in her beliefs. Jealously reared up nastily in Aman again. It had been Aman who Snaveling had talked to, not Roa! But...

...but now she came to think of it, Aman realised she maybe had ignored it. The niggling doubt planted it's feet firmly in her mind and determined, with the help of Common Sense, to grow there. She pondered on the thought uneasily. Yes, Snaveling had spoken of Roa - and when he had returned, Aman had been unwilling to see what was plainly in front of her, thinking, hoping that it had been her he had returned for. And maybe...well, maybe that was a little of it: not a vain thought, merely a reasonable one - but also a slightly deflating one. Snaveling had spoken to Aman yes, but he had spoken of Roa. He had spoken to Aman.

[i]"True love has not the words." Where had Aman heard the saying? She couldn't remember, but realised now that yes, it was true. How stupid of her! She stood abruptly, turning and pacing for a few steps on the rug in front of the fire. Yes, Snaveling had spoken to Aman - because he had chosen her as a friend. Nothing more, but certainly nothing less. And that had involved the man of South giving her his trust, something which did not come easily to him. And when he had come back now, she had thrown it back in his face!

"Fool..." Aman murmured softly, throwing her head back again and wincing. Grinning to herself ruefully she gave a small shot of laughter and dropped her face forward into her heavy hands and shook her head as she realised how blind she was. Foolfoolfool...

There was not a second to lose. Crossing the room purposefully, she put a hand on the doorknob meaningfully: she had wasted time now, she had thrown back trust...but she was quite resolved that jealousy, in this ridiculous form, would not block out getting it back now. Let him have his thoughts of the ranger woman: it was not she, but Aman, who was here now.

Taking another deep breath, Aman opened the door and, stepping behind the bar, she pulled a foamy pint with practised speed, then, as an afterthought, she drew a small glass of cider from one of the barrels. As she wove her way through the crowded throng, those who observed her carefully would have noticed that the shadows of before seemed to have inexplicably melted away in the light of the Inn. Approaching Snaveling, she cleared her throat and pushed the drinks across to both Snaveling and Jinniver. Smiling slightly, she crossed behind the man and put a hand on his shoulder as she passed, whispering softly into his ear, "Welcome back, Snaveling," before she moved on through the room.

Aye, let him have his thoughts of her. It is I, not she, who is here now...

Arry

09-14-2004, 04:01 PM

Andwise leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Ginger had come round once more, and he’d let her sweet-talk him into taking some dessert this time. Once done, he’d discretely unbuttoned the last button on his vest and loosened his belt a little. Time for another pipeful to settle it all together, then he and Ferdy would be on their way home. He scooted his chair to the side and tipped it back, resting his feet on an empty bench next to him. ‘We really should come here more often,’ he thought to himself, surveying the hubbub of the Common room. ‘The fare is excellent!’ He sent up a small prayer of thanks wrapped in a smoke ring for the Inn’s Cook. ‘Yes,’ he thought, comfortably patting his stomach, ‘and I’ll bring Mother. She’ll be glad of some female company, rather than her two stodgy menfolk.’

Ferdy sat joking with his friends. They were all a bit tipsy; speaking louder than necessary and each of them feeling himself to be a most clever fellow. Andwise chuckled to himself. Ferdy had apparently enough ale in him to give him a bit of Dwarf courage. As Ginger had passed by with the tray of desserts, he’d given her a bold eye and smiled at her. And despite the ribbing of his cohorts, he’d managed a word or two to her. Ginger had blushed, but held her own at whatever the young fool had said. And, my stars, if it didn’t look like she had given back as good as she got from him. She’d trounced off, red curls bobbing, and then stopped for one moment and turned to give a quick smile and a saucy wink to Ferdy. Andwise grinned and nodded his head at her retreating figure. Ferdy’s pals slapped him heartily on the back, teasing him about his boldness. ‘And about time, too, you boring old trout,’ he heard one of them say to his son. ‘You’ll wind up like old Mr. Baggins . . . dancing at other lads’ weddings and never your own!’

At the word ‘wedding’ Ferdy spluttered into his mug, choking on a mouthful of ale. Andwise came over to him, as his pals successfully whacked him on the back, and tapped the boy’s shoulder. ‘Time for us to be heading home, son. Going to be an early day tomorrow if we’re to get everything done as is needs doing before the handfasting.’ He eyed the other lads meaningfully as well. ‘And you lot . . . I expect to see you at the cottage early as well. That room won’t get done by itself, I reckon. Can’t do the cabinets and mouldings til it is, either; now can I?’

The young Hobbits all groaned at the truth of the old fellow's words. They wobbled up out of their chairs, made sure to pass by Buttercup and say their fond farewells, then arms about each other they managed to make it to the path leading home.

Kransha

09-14-2004, 04:07 PM

Creeping…creeping like the rat he’d been, creeping about was all he could do now. As he waded through a misty evening, a gentle slope appeared before him, turning slowly into a building that sat plastered against a cool night sky, just as the sun set below the horizon. As he looked upon it, he saw a strange familiarity in the place in the distance, a refreshing splendor not possessed by grandiose palaces and towers. It had a homely grandeur, the kind that one’s home might have after a long stay elsewhere. The Green Dragon was not his home, certainly not, but it had been an ample substitute, and would hopefully accept his entry again.

He’d gone there, some time ago. Not long ago, in fact. He was the place’s benefactor, to a degree. He’d given 11 (or was it 10) gold coins to the innkeeper, Amanduial…Yes, Aman, that fine lady of the Dragon, he remembered her. Again, he chided himself, it hadn’t been that long, really, not at all. He’d rented a room, and then there was the fire, and then the rebuilding, and then the party, and then Snaveling left…Old Snaveling, the rogue whose shadow he’d so loved to occupy. Good friends they were, but Snaveling was in Gondor with the fair maiden called Roa. After Snaveling left, he had no reason to stay. There was Aman, of course, and the new friends he made. He remembered Posco, Bingo, and Blanco (and one other whose name escaped him), the hobbits who he’d associated with briefly after Snaveling’s departure. Then, he’d, in a most uncharacteristic fashion, slipped out unceremoniously. He did not want attention drawn to himself, and had even neglected to say goodbye to Miss Aman and his colleagues. Now, though, through a most bizarre string of events, he was back. It seemed ironic, actually. When he’d come first to Bywater Road that day, he’d peddled his family fortune in pipe-weed for bed and breakfast, not knowing he’d be booked for an extended stay. Now, he already knew his stay'd be extended, and he certainly wouldn’t be peddling pipe-weed.

The same small and weathered figure strolled briskly down Bywater Road, pulling his frayed brown cloak around him as best he could. He picked up his pace as he neared his destination, on one side of the path. He walked in and over to the opposite end of the Green Dragon Inn, dodging awkwardly past several small tables and people of various sizes and shapes, and sat down contently. He fumbled momentarily with the innards of his outfit until he came upon what he was searching for. With an elegant, if not exaggerated flourish, he whipped out a surprisingly long pipe, a merry glint in his eye.

He let his heavy garments fall back and relished the glowing warmth that filled the room, compared to the caustic chills outside. His body sagged in the chair as he relaxed in the fire’s light. He laid his arms on another table that sat in front of him and sighed deeply, scratching at his wizened face with rough-skinned fingers. He glanced with his tired eyes around at the establishment, taking in what sights there were to see. He smiled as warmly as the fire and turned back to his pipe. The old hobbit could use a drink right about now, after a long period without any liquid sustenance. His head darted back and forth, scanning the room, his grey-brown strands of unkempt hair flailing lawlessly. He was, for some reason, hesitant to buy a drink. One of his hands went quickly to a coat pocket and dug around until a look of impatient irritation crossed his face. Grumbling to himself, he resumed his bird-like watching of the inn around him. He would’ve proceeded to get a drink, except for the pestering fact that he had no money.

Just as much money as he had to his name at this very moment, a fact that hadn’t left him for hours.

Pulling a very tattered cloak’s frayed edges up to his trembling ears, Tobias Hornblower the Third of Longbottom trudged towards the comely structure called the Green Dragon. The stable sat open, with its master at the gate, tending to one of many weary, but unruly creatures. Toby had no horse, though, but would settle for a home in the stable if he had to. As long as he was unseen, even by Amanduial. At this point, he eve could not trust her…not now, at least. Toby knew she would probably understand, but he didn’t know how fast news traveled anymore. He was probably ahead of it, but he simply could not be sure. He had to lay low, travel incognito, and all those silly things that he had told his nephews in stories. He reflected, only momentarily, on the fact that it might be a long time before he saw his dear little nephews again. Next time, they might not be so eager to hear his stories. They’d think he was lying. He’d made too many mistakes, and they were costing him, but they had been most inconvenient in their timing. Just when Toby arrived home a changed hobbit, he’d been confronted with a horrible realization.

And now he was here…

Now, as he thought of old Snave, The elder Hobbit reckoned that it might have been easier to head to the small, semi-isolated home that he had promised to the former brigand, Surely Snaveling wasn’t living there, and Toby knew every nook and cranny of the place. But, they would find him there if he fled, as the Southfarthing would be scoured by some authorities of a sort. That was why he was here, in Bywater. The town and country road, unpaved but highly trod upon, lay south of the foggy fields where the Four-Farthing Stone lay; marking the centermost point of all the Halfling lands. Word of the dilemma would be dispatched first from Longbottom to Tuckborough and the Great Smials, issued as a dark proclamation to the Thain of the Shire. He’d send searchers and messengers to the four corners of the Shire, each Farthing in turn, by the route of the local Shirriffs. They’d head to the Dragon last, as it was not in a town of its own. Bywater was barely a village, by the standards of such communes, and was not as high in regard as Buckland and the other populated regions of Hobbit-land. But still, the message and its carriers were ere behind him, hot on his heels as hounds to a fox. He was the fox, the wicked, villainous, traitorous vermin that had done such horrible wrong that had rent apart his life.

The Hafling did not even know now, why he had done such a thing in the first place. It had been long ago, years, before his arrival and departure from the Dragon. It had been his fault, wholly his, and he couldn’t deny it. He was a greedy, wretched old fool back then, a fool who lied and stole, and was deceitful in his dealings. He’d made a mistake which, now, he could not even fathom the depth of. It was a terrible thing he’d done, and he wanted desperately to be able to pin blame on another being, but such action would be selfish folly. It was, as he told himself again and again, his fault entirely. He dodged and he conspired, he schemed and planned, but all was for naught. The Green Dragon would know within a week of his wrongs, and he’d be found. He knew the Thain was just and true…but still, he could not help but imagine that his future, in the event of his discovery, would not be a happy one.

He scurried in, his hairy, leather-soled feet sliding along the gravelly road as he arrived at the inn threshold and darted in without the mildest hint of pomp or flourish. He whisked his cloak up, pulled his coat tighter still, and, as the vague light of the evening sky turned to warm, colors dancing on the walls. The chilly howl of weak winds turned into buzzing chatter in the inn, and the open spaces, wide and stretching over plain and field were transformed rudely into dense, claustrophobic crowds. His hooked nose and sharp ears twitching furiously, his thick brow furrowing, the Hobbit rushed in a mad dash towards the nearest, deepest crowd of people and disappeared a moment later into it. His heart called out to him forlornly, beseeching him to at least take a sideways glance at Amanduial, who was surely somewhere in the common room, but he remembered that he simply could not take the risk of letting her see him and try to strike up conversation. He didn’t want to have to lie…again…He never wanted to have to lie for the rest of his life. That was what had gotten him into the situation in the first place. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Toby hurried onward doggedly, dodging nimbly past. He wouldn’t look, he promised himself that…He refused to look.

He pulled off his heavier cloak, which had been tightly wrapped around his sagging shoulders, and neatly folded it into a cloth bundle which he tucked studiously under his arm. He took another impatient breath, sitting down on an aging stool. He laid his hand out on the bar, slowly moving towards a loaf of bread, his fingers practically tip-toeing across the wooden surface. With his free hand, he adjusted his shirt collar and smoothed the wrinkles from his bright green vest ceremoniously, maintaining a façade of dignity. His head leaned sideways, towards the woman. “Do things like this occur here often?” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth to the innkeeper behind him as he watched the girl and the man. He didn’t hold a very high opinion of such boorish and rude men, such as the one in front of him. Even though she had obviously tried to steal something from him, undignified behavior wasn’t justified by that. It momentarily occurred to Tobias that he was thinking hypocritically, but he ignored the thought and continued inching his hand towards the bread loaf. The innkeeper turned her gaze now, and Toby’s hand and arm, like a swatted serpent, flinched and pulled back.

Aman raised an eyebrow at the hobbit leaning on the bar in front of her, although the gesture was, of course, lost on his back. And some instinct told her that he might be about as good at paying off credit as the scores of other hobbit men who had passed within the last two or three years and were thereby a blot on the Inn's accounts. In answer to the hobbit's question, she figured she had to give some sort of reply. "Well, not so you'd notice mind, sir. But then, the Dragon isn't exactly your conventional Inn."

Unconventional indeed! The place was a madhouse! A smile almost came to Toby’s cold lips, but faded before it was born there. Shaking his head again, as if to relieve himself of the memory, Toby cleared his way on sprightly strides through the cacophonous mass, and towards the shadowy threshold of the stairwell to the inn’s second level. It would not be hard for Toby to locate and empty room. Suddenly, the masses swayed, much to Toby’s chagrin. Cursing loudly under his breath, Toby turned, trying to worm his way to the location. An opening came soon, but with it, a horrific realization. Near the stairs was a great open area where the milling crowds had not congregated. And, lo and behold, in the open space walked Aman, just as she’d been that wintry day, walking about briskly from table to table. Veering confusedly, Toby practically leapt in the opposite direction. He searched frantically for an empty table, snaking forward and back, until he found one in the room’s darkest corner. Pouncing upon the rickety chair and wrapping himself in layers of clothing, hoping and praying that Aman did not notice the trembling hobbit in the corner with a gaudy, tassel-covered coat over his now gray-haired head.

Humming quietly to himself, he avoided getting too near anyone as he made his way into the depths of the inn to find a room. It had been a long day for him and he would look forward to some rest after the journey from Longbottom. As he passed, he took notice of the other inn residents in their various situations. Though some of these folk piqued his curiosity, he thought it better to avoid contact with them. Even though the innkeeper was nice enough, he stood by his belief that men from the south had no place in any of the four Farthings of the Shire. He grumbled about this under his breath as he tried to find an empty room. He would get something to eat after some well-deserved sleep.

Oh, how he wanted to sleep and to dream of better things, but he’d be getting no sleep this day.

In his misery and haste, he did not notice the fellow sitting a table away with his back to the hobbit, who might’ve seemed more than a little familiar if glanced at a second time.

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-15-2004, 07:16 AM

Jinniver’s vague tales of a red-haired Ranger were not much to pin his hopes on, but they were all that he’d found in the weeks he’d spent in search of Roa, so he clung to them as a drowning man to wood. Her question, however, knocked him from his calm triumph at the small victory. Who is this woman to me indeed? he wondered. He had spent many a long night pacing restlessly about the mountain paths in pursuit of just such a question. On the whole journey back to Minas Tirith they had hardly spoken a word to one another, so full of judgement and anger was she, and so ashamed was he. And upon their return, Roa had seemed to seek to avoid him, even as the others at Elessar’s court took him into their welcome, if not their hearts. At the first possibility she had taken another assignment to the north and disappeared early one morning without so much as a leave taking. That had hurt him deeply, and he had cursed her at first, bitterly and at great length. The King, seeing his distress had merely said, "I know what it is to be denied the heart’s desire. I cannot offer counsel, but perhaps there is some comfort in knowing that yours is not an uncommon tale." Snaveling had thanked the King as prettily as he could, and for the only time since he had met him, cursed the name of Elessar under his breath as the sign of a fool.

"Oh," he replied to Jinniver’s question airily, "she is a friend and a companion. I was in her debt for a time, and even though the debt is repaid, I find that I wish to make some greater…recompense." He fell silent, and the woman knew that he would say no more on the matter. Shifting her tack somewhat, she inquired into the comings and goings of the south. In his time at the court of Gondor, Snaveling had learned much of the ways of the noble Men who were thriving there and he was able to satisfy her curiosity on many fronts. She was particularly interested in the renewed interest in herb lore and husbandry that had flourished in the lands to the south of the White Mountains. "Indeed," Snaveling said as he took a careful sip of ale, "with the renewed trade in the south, and the comings and goings between Eryn Lasgelan and Ithilien there are so many new plants coming to Gondor that the farmers are having trouble knowing where to plant them all. I’ve heard that there are some among the Rohirrim who are trying to cultivate pipeweed!"

Jinniver laughed, "Oh dear, that will upset the hobbits so – to know that someone other than a halfling is growing their pride and joy!"

"I doubt they have much to worry about. I have tried wine made from the grapes of Rohan, and while they are unexcelled warriors and bards, there are not farmers in Rohan who can match the folk of these parts!"

At that moment a serving maid arrived with two more pints of ale, sent, she explained with a withering and knowing look cast directly at Snaveling, by the stablemaster. Hiding his surprise, Snaveling turned to where Durefin sat, his eyes still upon Snaveling, and raised the mug in token of thanks. The men smile at one another thinly, and Snaveling knew that there would be a reckoning of some sort between them. He wondered what Aman was to this man – according to Jinniver, he was soon to be married…had Snaveling not known this he would have been sure what was going on.

No sooner had Jinniver and he expressed their mutual delight at the gift than Aman herself appeared at the table, bearing yet more drink. She dropped them in front of the pair and then moved off before Snaveling could say a word to her – although what he hoped to express was beyond him. The light touch that she gave him, accompanied by the surprisingly intimate whisper, sent a chill of apprehension through him. He moved to stay her, to ask her to join them, but like some spirit of the place she was gone again and Snaveling was left grasping at air.

Jinniver’s eyebrows shot up at all this as she buried her already flushed face in the tankard of sent over by Derufin. She did not make any comment on what had transpired, but Snaveling knew that she was bursting with curiosity to find out the full tale. Once more putting on a smile, Snaveling turned to the woman saying, “Even if you’ve not been here long, you will have already – I am sure – made the acquaintance of my friend Aman. I say ‘my friend’ for it is the only word I can find for her, although she is far more dear to me than is usually meant by that word.” Seeing the look in Jinniver’s eye he decided to complete the sentence. “I had…difficulties…when I was here last, and almost alone among the people of the Inn, Aman was willing to extend a hand to me rather than spurn me from the door as I deserved.” Even as he spoke his mind was working along a parallel track. Aman’s manner had been conciliatory and friendly, for which he was glad, but there had been something in it that unsettled him. That touch, the feel of her lips so close to his ear – it had all been…meaningful…in a way that Snaveling feared meant trouble ahead for them both. His mind turned to the gift he had thought to present Aman, but he began to wonder if that would be such a good idea. To shower her with such a lavish token might be taken the wrong way…

Jinniver’s head nodded. “Well, you’re right Mister Snaveling, I’ve not known Aman long but she is s remarkable woman, remarkable indeed! Your past here sounds as though it was troubled. Was Aman really the only friend you had here? Surely there were others who you want to see again now that you are back?” She was fishing for more information, Snaveling could see that, but as she was no longer plumbing the waters in which he sought to hide his feelings for Roa, he did not mind.

“Well, yes, there is one other rogue I would dearly like to see again,” he said, polishing off his ale and beginning with the cider. “An elderly Halfling gentleman of the Southfarthing. When I knew him he was a scoundrel and a crafty, sharp nosed cheat. But his heart was…I almost said ‘made of gold’ but that’s not right, for if his heart were made of such stuff he’d have it out and smithed into coins to buy beer and pipeweed in a moment!” Snaveling laughed and threw his head back. His chair moved with the force of his hilarty and bumped the chair behind him.

“Watch where you’re crashing about, Man!” a rough and weary voice croaked at him. Snaveling froze, and for a moment Jinniver thought that he was having some kind of a seizure. Her surprise was multiplied tenfold when the Man leapt to his feet and whirled upon the Halfling who had grumped at him. So purposeful and focused was he, that she feared he meant some harm to the old hobbit, but bending down Snaveling embraced the Halfling instead. “Toby!” he cried out with a joy so pure and total that it made Jinniver smile, even though she had no idea what was going on. “Tobias Hornblower you old villain! Why seeing you is more than I had hoped for this night!” Letting down the hobbit once more, Snaveling looked into the elderly gentleman’s face and immediately the Man’s whole demeanour altered from one of joy to shock. “But by friend, whatever is wrong? Come come, join Miss Jinniver and myself. I will buy you a pot of ale and you shall tell me what weighs upon you so heavily!”