The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter [Archive] - Page 4

Lalwendë

09-15-2004, 12:41 PM

Snaveling did not answer Jinniver’s questions in the way she had hoped; he deflected them skilfully. ‘It was all I could have expected,’ she noted to herself. ‘This is clearly no fool’. She had already taken in the fine clothing he wore, which brought to mind her recent dreams of finery, and had decided he must have travelled from the south. She pressed him for news of Gondor, half thinking that this might lead him into revealing something more. But when he began to talk of plants and farming she almost forgot about the hidden story she wanted to unearth, and fell into easy and familiar conversation.

Her sense of ease was soon jolted when Buttercup arrived bearing mugs of ale. A gift from Derufin. As she looked up to motion her thanks to Derufin, she caught the look in the eyes of both men. It was cold and measuring. A memory of the lack of caution in her distant past swiftly came into her mind. Jinniver felt a slight chill creep down her spine. She had the sensation that she may have stepped into a situation which was too complicated for her, and began to regret her curiosity. Why hadn’t she stayed closer to more familiar company this evening? She hoped that Derufin might not be thinking badly of her; after all, she was being employed by him. But she looked at Snaveling, who smiled warmly again, and knew she could not simply turn her back on him. He was thoughtful, and she admired his manners and besides, he had much to say that was interesting. She had never thought to meet such a lofty figure who cared for farming.

As Jinniver tried to make sense of her confusion, Aman suddenly appeared and brusquely placed two more tankards onto the table. Jinniver tried to hide her face as Aman gently touched Snaveling’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. The man, as noble as he might be, caught his breath and faltered for a moment and Jinniver took this in. It was a gesture she felt she ought not to have seen. She suddenly did not feel quite so drunk as she had been; her quick thoughts were sobering her up. ‘Well,’ she thought with a sense of realisation ‘It might not be proper for me to be seen sitting here with this gentleman, so familiar and all, but I cannot leave now’.

Snaveling relaxed and made a joke about an old rogue he knew. His laughter was deep and hearty and his seat jerked backwards almost throwing him off balance. She almost laughed, but then caught her breath with fright when he leapt up like a dog after a hare and grasped hold of the hobbit he had crashed into. She thought he was going to strike him, but instead he gave him a heartfelt hug, and her sense of relief was so immense, she started to laugh aloud.

Aman came across to greet the hobbit warmly and she brought him an ale. Jinniver watched expectantly with her mouth slightly open and one eyebrow raised as she watched the hobbit expertly avoid the question of payment. She knew he'd get away with it, she had the measure of his game. 'Now, there's a slippery fish, ' she said to herself, thinking of other characters she had known who had this expert skill in working their way out of their obligations. 'But how could he have wormed his way into being one of Snaveling's associates?'

She got out a pouch of pipeweed and offered it to Snaveling and Mr Hornblower, hoping to hear some more interesting tales, though she knew only too well that rogues of Mr Hornblower's type were not to be trusted lightly.

starkat

09-15-2004, 05:24 PM

Gwenneth placed her empty glass down on the bar and sighed. Looking around at all of the reunions made her feel a little sad.

The young elf remembered that she had left something in her room. Walking into her room, she picked up a letter that she had tucked away and sat down on the bed to begin reading.

Kransha

09-15-2004, 06:19 PM

If Toby had not already been circumspect in his every movement, and wary in the extreme, the sock of seeing Snaveling materialize before him might’ve killed him with the shock of it. The look, fresh and warm, of his old comrade’s face brought light to his own, and a ready smile with it. Snaveling looked strangely different, in his garb and merry gait. He looked stately, well-off, and regal in his own way, which brought a newfound happiness to Tobias Hornblower. His eyes gleamed momentarily as he returned the look of his friend, embracing him in a rush of confusion, happiness, and relief. Of all people who might sympathize with him now, of all the people in the land of Eriador, he was the one who Toby had most desired to see. Almost eagerly, forgetting his terrible position, Toby, half with the assistance of a boisterous Snaveling, was escorted to another, more brightly lit and central table. He flung himself, almost weary but still in a festive mood, into an open chair, thanking his lucky stars about the happenstance. As his mouth ran uncontrolled, he at last formed a structured sentence, though it was still garbled in excitement.

“Snaveling…” he paused, looking up and down the length of the man, “Snaveling, you devil! I thought you were in Gondor?”

He would’ve said more, but just then the hobbit, awestruck, was interrupted by the worst possible thing imaginable: the ale-bearing innkeeper. The only thing that would’ve been worse would be the local Shirriff, or maybe his sister Opal (he really, truly, disliked that woman). It was not, though, that he disliked Aman. On the contrary, he was very happy to see her, he just wasn’t happy about her seeing him. He masked his ill looks well, not successfully, but well. Snaveling certainly noticed, but it was impossible to tell what Aman with thinking. That was one of her many talents, being able to look one thing and look something completely different. Even Snaveling, who’d led a shaded life since he stepped in the Dragon, could not accomplish such a feat. But, none of this mattered. Toby couldn’t think; his mind was a whirling blank, which was much more confusing than a simple, motionless blank, or a whirling something. He’d been found out, at least to some extent, but he had to again remind himself that he was still among friends here, still with companions. At last his mental faculties settled long enough for the Halfling to hear Aman question him about supper. Moving involuntarily, as if he were blinking an eye, he responded without thought or hesitation.

“No,” he said, politely, fitting a smile to his features carefully, a master at work, “no food, thank you. I’m really not hungry right now.”

He was starving. Toby hadn’t eaten in a day and a half, the longest he had ever gone without victuals. He couldn’t conceal the speed at which he guzzled the ample mug of ale Aman place before him. Whatever residue dribbled down his fuzzy chin was promptly slurped up in a very crude manner. Taking a number of exhausted breaths, Toby nearly slumped forward, catching himself on the table, and then sunk below the rim again, his fervent attitude shrinking and evaporating in the presence of the merry innkeeper. As soon as he’d seen Snaveling, he’d immediately been struck by the urge to confess all, but now he certainly could not. He had to wait until she left, then he could tell Snaveling. He would know, he would understand. As much as he trusted the innkeeper, this was a biting secret she would surely be averse to hearing. She’d find out in less than a week anyway, but until then, Toby preferred to keep his friends his friends, and be as honest with them as he could. Unfortunately, he had thus concluded that his need for lies, and for petty thievery, was nearly pathological, but he’d get past that. There was no crime he could commit now that would be villainous to outmatch that done already, but no one knew this…no one here, certainly.

“What brings you again to the Green Dragon, Mister Hornblower. No doubt you have an interesting tale in store.”

She’d boxed him in, he was trapped like a rat. He couldn’t tell her the truth, but he had sworn not to lie. He fumbled about verbally for a second, his tongue twisting from side to side in his mouth wordlessly. He raised a shivering forefinger, with a verbose look on his face, but stuttered incoherently instead of speaking. Aman smiled politely, hovering nearby, a mixture of a tranquil dove and a watchful hawk. He had to think of something, neither a lie nor truth, but could not. His usually sharp mind failed him. He looked around, nervous eyes flitting back and forth madly, from Aman, to a contented Snaveling, to a relatively unfamiliar woman who Toby had never met. She seemed genuinely intriguing, though somewhat simple, but her hair color and well-framed face brought back a second familiarity. He was reminded of someone, especially by that hair, but could not place the image. He did not let his eyes linger too long on her, as did not wish to rudely stare. Instead, the murky eyes nestled in his wizened face wriggled around uncomfortably, avoiding contact. At last, something came, pathetic as it was. “I was…” he paused, thinking furiously, “was…just walking about and decided to drop by…

It was a terrible lie and he knew he could do better. So he did.

“I mean, I was in the area…because I’m on my way to visit my cousin in the Northfarting. My cousin, Petunia Proudfoot, is a mighty fine Hobbit lass, a wee bit older than me, but she’s gotten sick. The physician sent us a note that she detracted a very rare disease after a picnic this winter with some relatives. They fear she’ll be abed for a few weeks, and thought she could use a younger fellow around the house to help her. She’s not all there in the head, you see, and the sickness doesn’t help. As one of her most prosperous relatives, I was delegated to go, get her affairs in order for her, straighten up the place, and use some funds to hire a helping hand. She’d do well with a helper around, she would, so I’ve come up from Longbottom and am headed north, though I don’t have a mandatory arrival time. Since it’s a very long trip, it is, and since I don’t need to be there for a few days more, I up and decided I’d stop off here and rest for a day…or four…Yes, that’s it.”

The whole speech sounded ridiculously contrived, and Aman knew, even though Toby had poured every last ounce of his habitual skill into it. Her smile remained gentle and calm, though Toby could tell that her mind’s wheels were at work. He smiled haphazardly, and fell back, defeated by the situation, into his chair. Aman nodded, at least trying to look understanding. Toby could only hope that she didn’t press the matter, or that she’d be distracted by something. Though Toby made himself look comfortable and content, he was on the edge of his seat, and, beneath the table, grubby fingernails scratched anxiously at old wood, making an irksome sound that was probably audible to all at the table. There was nothing that Toby could do but hope that the innkeeper, who he really wished he could speak to honestly, would leave the premises.

Witch_Queen

09-15-2004, 06:58 PM

Cree and Avalon
Cree sat in the chair beside her old friends. It had been a while since Cree had seen Fainu and all she could think of was how much fun they had together. Cree remembered her trips to see him in Rivendell when her father would go talk with Lord Elrond. No matter what she had to go with her father. Cree would always make an excuse for why she had to go. Cree turned to face him. "Fainu what have you been doing since you left? When my father died I really needed you, but when I went searching you were no where to be found." Her words were sincere. She could tell something was wrong with him.

Perhaps he doesn't trust Hama. Why not? Hama is a good man. He was there for me when I needed him. Finally Cree decided to pull the hood from her cloak away from her face. She thought now since she was in the company of friends it was ok for her to show her face. After all she still knew someone was out there looking for her. Even after all these months Cree still felt guilty for her father dieing.

Cree stood up to get her a mug of ale when suddenly she felt dizzy. She knew once againt that her episodes were back. It was for some reason when she was around the hobbits that this happened. Avalon sat perched on a near by chair unitl she noticed something was wrong with Cree. Cree fell back in her seat when she failed to keep herself stable. Avalon hopped over to Cree's pack and got out a package and handed it to Cree.

Opening the package Cree placed a few pieces of the herb in her mouth. Even though the taste wasn't plesant still Cree knew it was what she had to do now. For her episodes to stop Cree was forced to eat the small plant.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-16-2004, 12:32 AM

"Fainu what have you been doing since you left? When my father died I really needed you, but when I went searching you were no where to be found."

Fáinu thought for a minuet, he did not know how much of the story he should tell. He thought he owed it Cree to tell her as much as he could.

"After the incident with Smaug, I went back to Mirkwood." His voce lowered, "There I found that no one knew me, They said I looked alike to one they knew, but none knew who I was. As soon as my wound was attended to I set off to find my brothers. I went to Rivendell and was told that they dwelt near the foot of the Misty Mountains. When I found them they too did not recognise me, I thought this very strange, but something told me that I should not reveal my identity. There I dwelt for a time, I joined their company and helped slay many orcs and Goblins that came down from the mountains. I gained much prises, to my surprise."

Fáinu took a large draft of his ale, to clear his thought, plus he was slightly nervous about the next few parts. He placed his mug upon the table and then continued.

"Soon news came that Smaug was dead." he shook his head, "I decided to go off and see if it was true. I was asked by my brothers, Tautlinta and lenda, leave to go, they bid me do a few errands in the grey mountains. Eventually I came to the Lonely Mountain and there I found my sword. I took it back to Rivendell and it was re forged. Then I came back to the house of my Brothers, However, when I attempted to continue my life in the company, I was betrayed.

"One day When Walking in the forest, I was waylaid by a servant of the house, swiftly I threw him to the ground and held my sword at his neck. Then, my brothers saw me and they banished me for attacking this servant. I know now that it was a plan they both concocted, for I found out of some of the wicked things they did while I was away. Murdering innocents calling them Orc friends, when they were not.

"I came back to Rivendel again, and stayed until the War of the ring. When that was over Elrond began to ready himself to leave, he gave a few words of advice to all and then departed. I followed the lead of Ellodan and Elrohir for a while, Soon they asked me to take a message to Cirdan in the grey havens. I went and came here. Now, there you have it."

He drew a sigh of relief and looked over at Adu, he was glad that she had asked him to stay and keep her company. Now Cree had come back. One thing that bothered him was how she alone of all people had recognised him.

Witch_Queen

09-16-2004, 08:41 AM

Cree and Avalon

The white crow looked at Fainu. It seemed like Avalon wasn't sure what to think of Fainu. Cree layed her hand on the crows back. The feathers were soft under her hand. Cree could recognize Fainu's face from any wheres. After all she would never forget her friends. Her grey eyes rested on his face. "Fainu everything will be ok in the end. Though I am surprised to see you here. When did you arrive?" She was happy to be with an old friend. She could remember the last time she had stayed at the inn was with Grimm. He held her heart. Now he had left her when she needed someone.

Fainu, I know how you feel. It seems like you don't know if Hama can be trusted. He is all Adu has now. Neither of us know if we should trust man again. Yet they are the hope of Middle Earth. Men have a reason for being here. Fainu in the end it will come down to man once again to save Middle Earth from itself. Suddenly Cree remembered something her father had once said about her mother. Cree, your parents are from Rivendell. That is the only reason why I continue to take you with me on my journeys. If only we could find them, then perhaps you can discover the reason why they left you.

Cree no longer cared about her actual family. To her Eryn Lasgalen was her home. Rivendell was so far away and yet so close to her heart. "Fainu do you remember when we first met. It seems like only yesterday that we were riding through Rivendell. Oh how I miss those days. Back then we had no cares in the world. We were young and to us forever seemed so far away." Cree loved to remember her early life. For her there was never a "childhood."

Hookbill the Goomba

09-16-2004, 10:07 AM

"Fainu do you remember when we first met. It seems like only yesterday that we were riding through Rivendell. Oh how I miss those days. Back then we had no cares in the world. We were young and to us forever seemed so far away."

Fáinu was not sure what to say. So much had happened, he was forever changed, in face and mind. Rivendel he could not return to save once, he had to deliver Cirdan's reply to Elodan's message, then he had nothing planed, but to wander and find he knew not what.

"Indeed, I remember those days. Though now it is but a far memory." He looked sad, and dishevelled; "I fear I will never have such joy again, for the pain of the dragon wound will haunt me for ever. and the curse of Smaug will follow me, even, I fear, to Aman."

His words were heart felt, it was something that had plagued his sleep for a long while. He had thought his old life was gone, all accounts of Manstarmin were gone, to the rest of Middle Earth, he was dead.

Still he thought that this meeting with Cree was strange in many ways, not least that she knew him as Fáinu, rather than Manstarmin. All seemed odd to him, it seemed that his life had turned around the minuet he entered the Green Dragon...

"I do not think I shall ever be able to sleep," he said as he looked out of the window, "not while there are dragons in the world." he said this last part quietly, only Adu heard him, she did not understand what he meant, she had not heard tell of Dragons in the world for a long time.

piosenniel

09-16-2004, 10:08 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.

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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

09-16-2004, 10:08 AM

It is late evening in the Shire.

The lamps are lit in The Green Dragon; a cheery fire blazes on the hearth.

Supper is almost over - 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.

piosenniel

09-16-2004, 10:09 AM

~*~*~*~ Notice of New Game Opening ~*~*~*~

Witch_Queen invites you to come play in her new game: Ungoliant’s Children

The Discussion Thread is HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?p=352171#post352171), and will open on Monday, the 20th to take player submissions.

Read the proposal and get a character and post ready to submit to it – should be a fun game!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-16-2004, 03:55 PM

Snaveling listened in growing alarm to Toby’s frantic avoidance of what was troubling him. It was clear to him that the Halfling had fallen on hard times and that his presence at the Inn was not the casual circumstance that he was trying to make it to be. There was one thing about Tobias’s manner that confused Snaveling and that was the fellow’s odd attitude to Aman. He seemed pleased to see her, and yet strangely uncomfortable in her presence. Snaveling’s heart went out to the poor girl, for this was the second time this evening that an old friend had greeted her with reservation.

In an attempt to calm the old hobbit and give everyone time to think – including himself – Snaveling eagerly accepted the offer of pipeweed from Jinniver. Opening the pouch he was greeted with a particularly gracious smell that spoke of the gentle airs and careful tending of the Southfarthing. He could see Toby’s eyes light up and mist over at the scent, and Snaveling knew how badly his friend wanted to enjoy a smoke. They quickly filled their pipes, a business that prevented any further conversation for a minute or two. Snaveling offered to pay Jinniver for the weed, but she shook her head and somewhat grandly declined payment. “But I insist,” Snaveling pressed, withdrawing a pouch from his belt. “I am not used to taking things without paying for them” – and as he said this he managed to avoid the gazes of Aman and Toby – “nor do I have to. I have ample funds, and – to be frank – I rather suspect that you would be sorely pressed to give away such a store of your precious goods, my lady.” Opening the pouch, Snaveling revealed a tidy sum of gold and silver coins. Aman’s breath caught in her throat, and although he made no sound, Toby’s demeanor conveyed as clear as glass both his astonishment and his desire to share in Snaveling’s newfound wealth.

“Oh, well,” Jinniver began somewhat awkwardly, “You know, I don’t like to take money for a gift, but it is a rather costly pouch of pipeweed. Perhaps I would accept a token payment for it, just a bit above what I paid for it, mind, to cover travel expenses and the like.” Snaveling asked how much she thought would be fair, and handed over the amount immediately upon hearing it. That having been settled he placed the pouch back at his waist and turned to Aman. “Our friend may not be hungry, but I could use a bite of that delicious lamb. Perhaps you could bring me a plate?” And as he spoke he winked to Aman quickly, unnoticed by the Halfling who was still buried in the smoke of what looked to be his first pipe full of weed in days.

Witch_Queen

09-17-2004, 08:49 AM

Cree

Cree could remember back in her younger days. Back then Fainu wasn't known as Fainu, he was Manstarmin. She figured he wondered how she knew what to call him. It took her a while to remember the times they would ride their horses and her friend Manstarmin went by the name Fainu. To her that was a nickname that he would never out live. He was always her release from the life she lived. Manstarmin was always there when Cree needed help with something. "Manstarmin, my old friend you have changed so much at heart that I am amazed that I even noticed you. My friend if there is one thing you should know that is that we have a connection that allows us to know each other." Her words were a mere whisper but she knew Fainu had heard her.

She looked up from her mug of ale and turned to where Avalon was. Without a word the crow jumped off the chair and down to the floor. Cree had felt sad about Fainu being hurt so bad that to her it affected his capability to ever love someone or even feel love. For her everything was different, though she had her heart broken many a'times she still didn't shut everyone out. Cree knew that wearing her heart on her sleeve was going to hurt her even more. Yet she was willing to take the chance. "Fainu, it seems that I have caught you at a bad time. Forgive me." Cree stood up and followed by Avalon went to a table where she could at least think. Before she sat down she looked at Fainu. Cree mouthed some words to Fainu in elvish meaning "My dear friend, it seems that our paths did cross again. But to me you have changed so much that deep down in your heart I do not sense the slight bit of love for anything. If you wish to continue our conversations you may join me when you remember our past together."

Cree found if funny that she could remember the past yet all Fainu could do was look at the future. She always had dwelt or lived in a dream world. A world where her father never had died and Manstarmin didn't leave her.

Envinyatar

09-17-2004, 11:00 AM

Derufin took his cue from Andwise. There was a great deal of work to be done on the old cottage tomorrow . . . best he go to his quarters and get his rest. Gathering up his mug and dishes he made his way to the kitchen and deposited them on the drainboard. It was as he scraped what few bits he’d left on his plate into the slops bucket that he realized his mind was far too preoccupied with a problem . . . no, not a problem, a want it was . . . that had been niggling at the back of his mind all day. Sleep, he was sure, would allude him. ‘A walk will do,’ he thought to himself. ‘Set my thoughts in some order.’

He glanced about at the patrons left in the common room as he crossed from the kitchen to the main door. Only a few were still finishing up the last dribbles and drabbles of dessert. And they were being eyed by the servers, wanting only to clear away the plates and cups and hurry them to the kitchen to be washed. From their stances he could tell they were tired, wanting only the end of their work day and the comfort of a snug, warm bed. He winked at Buttercup as they passed each other, her tray piled high with empty platters and bowls heading to the kitchen.

The verandah was empty for the most part as he stepped out through the Inn door. A single Hobbit could be seen a way to his left, tapping out the last of his old pipeweed against the pillar of the overhanging porch, his foot sweeping it from the porch boards and into the flower beds below. Derufin nodded at him as he made his way down the steps.

It was a pleasant night with only the occasional cloud to hide the stars from view. Small breezes brought news of his whereabouts as he walked round the Inn toward the stable. The light perfume of the rock daphne planted about the foundation of the building mingled in interesting contrast with the scent of the midden heap near the kitchen. The deep scents of well turned earth from the garden crossed the sharp odor of the chicken coops. Aah . . . and now the familiar and welcoming scent of the stables . . . and the sounds . . . sweet hay in the loft, the heavy scents of horses, their hooves clopping as they moved in their stalls; their knickers and whinnies greeting him as he passed.

He drew near Falmar’s stall on his way to retrieve his cloak from his quarters. Her head was arched over the gate and she eyed him, motioning him closer with a toss of her head. As he approached she whickered softly, snorting loudly at the new horse next to her as the black usurper snaked his neck forth wanting some recognition of his presence. ‘Well, who’s this, my lady,’ Derufin asked. Falmar’s nose butted against the man’s neck in welcome, Derufin’s hand coming up in a familiar gesture to scratch her between the ears.

The new horse stretched forth his neck again, nostrils flaring as he chuffed at the man, taking in his scent. His shiny, black muzzle pushed firmly against Derufin’s shoulder, then, wanting some attention of his own. Derufin’s hand had barely come up to scratch the black’s forehead, when Falmar stamped her foot hard against the packed dirt of the stall. Quick as a striking snake her head darted toward the ‘intruder’, her great teeth giving him a painful nip on his ear. The black shied back in outrage and screamed a challenging rebuke at her. Falmar, for her part, flattened her ears and eyed him, daring the trespasser to make a move.

Derufin spoke low to both the horses, drawing their attention to him. Falmar he placed on a leather lead and took her from the stable, letting her run about in the nearby pen. ‘I’ll come for you in just a bit,’ he told her. ‘Let me see to the poor fellow’s ear. The owner will not be happy to have his horse roughed up and bleeding.’ Falmar snorted at this, stamping her hoof in irritation as Derufin returned to the stable. The black was wary of him and it took some time to be able to see to the ear. A small tear only. It would heal with a ragged scar, Derufin thought. But the hair would cover it. He cleaned it, applying a bit of pressure to the wound afterwards to stop the bleeding. Once done he stepped back to admire the animal. Seventeen or eighteen hands, he thought in quick estimation. Well muscled, though not bulkily so as a draft horse; sleek, rather. Intelligent demeanor, he noted, watching the slanted eyes of the stallion making their own assessment of the man. ‘I wonder who your owner is,’ Derufin thought as he stepped out of the stall, latching it securely behind him. He tossed an apple from the nearby basket to the horse and made his way back to Falmar. She shook her head at him, smelling the black’s scent on his hands as he reached for her. Speaking gently he drew her in, close enough to get his hands in her mane and mount up.

‘Come, my lady,’ he urged her, his heels tapping lightly against her flanks. She cleared the fence with ease and took off down the path to the main road.

‘Let’s clear both our heads with a ride,’ he said to her, leaning low over her neck as she sped away. ‘Things will look better when we’re both too tired to think about them.’

Hookbill the Goomba

09-17-2004, 12:49 PM

"My dear friend, it seems that our paths did cross again. But to me you have changed so much that deep down in your heart I do not sense the slight bit of love for anything. If you wish to continue our conversations you may join me when you remember our past together."

Fáinu was trying to think of something encouraging to say. But nothing came to his mind, nothing but dark thoughts. When she had uttered his former name, he gave her a sharp look as if to say, "Do not speak that name."

At length he rose and walked out of the inn for some fresh air. He began to think back to when he and Cree were friends, however, he could not see any of it clearly. His whole past before the Dragon attacked was clouded. he looked at his burnt hand and sighed. Closing his eyes he thought back to his first meting with Cree, However, as he smiled to remember happier times, the images of the dragon blowing his fire came and he started as if awoken from a nightmare. even after opening his eyes, slight whispers he could hear in his mind, echoes of the curse of Smaug.

Eventually he walked back into the inn and ordered some water to drink, for he suddenly felt parched. He looked over at Cree who seemed to be feeding something to the bird that came with her. Soon he felt it rite that he spoke with her. he sat down at the other end of the table and so was facing her.

"Cree, you must realise," he said at last, "I thought all had forgotten me. When Smaug destroyed my old life, there was nothing left for me. Not even my family recognised me. I did not expect you to do so. You have to realise, many sorrows have befallen me, besides that that thou knows of. The only friend I have had has been Anganárí, my sword."

He saw that Cree was sorrowful at hearing this. However, he did not know of what to say.

"Do not be troubled, Cree," he said, "I remember, if vaguely, our time together. But until ether Mandos calls me or I am realised from the Dragon's curse, I fear, that ever I shall be joyful.”

Lalwendë

09-17-2004, 03:42 PM

Jinniver was somewhat taken aback at Snaveling’s offer to pay for the pipeweed she had offered. She wondered where his home might have been as this was not usual behaviour to her. It was custom in Bree to be generous with pipeweed in company, and she had seen it also in the Shire folk. It caused no great expense, as someone else would share their own supplies sooner or later. It was simply a polite gesture, something to be done in company. But the man seemed determined and he made great show of opening a pouch to reveal a small fortune in gold and silver coins. Jinniver tried not to look startled to see the money but as a trader she could not help but notice it; she was well aware of the exact amount she had on her own person, and of how much she had spent during the evening as no amount of ale could temper that keen sense.

She remembered an old saying about fools and their money and decided to see what he would do if she asked for a sum a little over the odds. If he was trying to make show of his wealth then he would not turn her down as he would not want to lose face. She knew that it was said that those who came from long lines of noble houses were much more cautious with their money - this was how they had managed to keep it through so many generations.

He gave Jinniver the sum she asked for without question and she realised that here was a man who had not long come to his position in life. ‘Perhaps this explains the company he keeps’, she thought to herself. Reeling a little at the sudden small windfall, she began to think of what she was going to do with all the money she had made once she went back to Bree. Of course, most would go to help her father; she could take on another person to do his work, and he could have his well earned retirement. But at this rate she was going to be able to afford more than that. Her eyes drifted over to Snaveling, who had caught the attention of Aman once more, and she looked at the fine clothes he wore. ‘Maybe one day soon I really will be able to afford that soft cloak that I dream of ’. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to feel content.

Her eyes were opened again when a chair scraped and Derufin got up to leave. It was getting late, and she realised she ought to be going to bed soon, as tomorrow she had the flowerbeds to weed and hoe. And besides, what was the point in dreaming about fancy cloaks; she was going to put her money to work by using it to make more money, that was her plan. Hard work had been the saving of her since…no, she did not care to think about that either. She shook her head to jolt herself out of the thoughts that had almost begun to trouble her again. Noticing she had at least half a tankard of good ale left, she reached over and cradled it, sipping gently. Stifling a yawn with her hand, she resolved to go to bed when she had finished her ale.

Boromir88

09-17-2004, 10:27 PM

Rorin Thundernose was a middle-aged dwarf, atleast according to his own people. He had spent most of his life serving Dain, King under the Mountain, fighting alongside his companions and with the Men of Dale. Now that the war is over, and evil again has perished, Rorin has long since wished to meet up with his old friend, Bundin. Rorin and Bundin had been pals for as long as he could remember. His long search had brought him to The Shire.

Bundin had always told Rorin he strongly disliked hobbits, so he doubted if he would learn anything about him here. He thought he would stop at the Inn, and see if he could discover anything, maybe Bundin travelled to The Shire to learn news, or for other purposes unknown.

Rorin walks into the inn and stands for a few seconds, at the entrance, gazing around the well-lit room. With him are two other dwarves, also, friends of Bundin. The travellers notice all eyes are upon them, but they disregard the sudden interest they have stirred. Rorin tells his companions he is going to the bar, to talk with the inkeeper, and that he will join them later. His friends find a vacant table, next to a small group of Hobbits from Michel Delving.

Rorin makes his way up towards the inkeeper. "Good evening," she says "could I interest you in any food or drinks, or perhaps a room for the night, you look tired." The inkeeper guessed right, for Rorin and his friends, had travelled a long road in search of Bundin, and they still had the trip home to go. "Aye, that would be grateful" he says. The inkeeper explains they are still serving supper, and she will have a room made up for him immediately. Rorin, sheepishly gestures, "May I ask, what is your name, fair lady?" "I am Aman, the inkeeper here at the Green Dragon, and your name is?" He answers, "Rorin, and those are my companions, Falin and Groin." "Falin and Groin," she says "Right, what could I get for the three of you?" Rorin looks towards the table his friends are at and sees they have already gotten ale. He answers "Lamb chops for me and my friends, please." "Lamb chops it is."

Rorin walks back towards the table to join his friends. He is slightly blushing, it appears he has forgotten all about his purpose in the Shire. He can't remember when he last saw a lady so fair.

piosenniel

09-19-2004, 01:09 PM

Zimzi walked in the shadows, avoiding the paths and road to the Inn as often as she could. She did not care to have news of her ‘escape’ get back to Cook or to Amaranthas, with whom she was to spend the next few days until her family arrived.

They had talked flowers and the meanings of flowers all day long as Amaranthas had walked her through her gardens. The flowers for the bouquet had been discussed and agreed upon and they’d begun to sketch out the little pots of flowers that would grace the tables for the party at the Inn. Mistress Aman, directed Amaranthas, the elderly gardener, must have a special corsage for her generous offer of the Inn for the handfasting. As must Cook. And all the young lasses who’d come to offer their services for the week should have lovely wreaths to show off as they danced at the party.

It had been a long, long day tramping about the wildly blooming rockeries and numerous little plantings at the old Hobbit’s home just east of Bag End. Some of Samwise’s children, the girls to be exact, had come over to see what was going on. They followed the two women like little hummingbirds, quick and light upon their feet as they darted in and out to touch the soft petals of the flowers and drink in the sweet scents with their noses. Amaranthas’ had tsk’d at them, but the fond glimmer in her eyes as she watched them told her true feelings. And there had been cookies and fresh milk from the little nanny goat at the end of the garden walk-through as they knew there would.

Now night had fallen and all on the hill it seemed were settling in for the night. She waited patiently until the dear old Hobbit had gone to sleep. Only a little while longer and she would be at the Inn. Just a small walk, a few stolen moments with Derufin, she reminded herself, a touching on how each other’s day had been. It was a little habit they had formed to clear away the frustrations that life naturally threw in one’s way. From a distance she noted a horse galloping full out down the Great East Road, the rider bent low over his steed's neck. She could not see who it might be, but she drew further into the shadows nonetheless to avoid being seen.

Avoiding the Inn itself, she circled round it, making her way to the old cottage at the edge of the grounds. From what she could see in the dim light of the new moon the work was coming along nicely. And what’s this, she said aloud, coming to the neglected garden plots that had stood at the front of the cottage and round the great tree that stood in the yard. Someone had been poking about in them it seemed . . . some animal perhaps foraging for greens she concluded. With a smile she knelt down near the one beneath the tree – in her imagination she looked on the half-done cottage and grounds with an artist’s eye, imagining how it would look all done and the flowers that would be there some day, all in bloom. She picked up a handful of soil and held it to her nose. It was rich and sweet, full of the promise of new growth.

From there she made her way to the stable. There at the rear, were the windows that looked in on Derufin’s quarters. They were dark, and there was no sight or sound of him as she drew near and entered through the small door to his rooms. Not daring more time or the chance of being seen should she look for him elsewhere, she retraced her steps to the door and was about to exit when she recalled the small posy she had brought to show him how her day was spent. On the small table by his cot, near his lamp, she placed the flowers in the mug he kept there for water. A small wealth of yellow violets for happiness, and here and there, sprigs of fragrant rosemary, for remembrance.

As an after thought, she unclipped the small mother-of-pearl brooch she wore on her cloak and nestled it among the violets, then took her leave, making her way in haste back to Amaranthas’ house before she would be missed.

Firefoot

09-19-2004, 01:48 PM

Lily roused herself out of deep thought and looked around. She wondered where Posco and Blanco were; she had not thought it would take Posco very long to find Blanco. She realized that she was quite hungry and that dinner wasn't going to be being served for very much longer. After inquiring as to whether Bingo and Marcho were hungry as well (they weren't, for they had eaten while she was ouside), she ordered a meal for herself from one of the passing hobbit maids.

Her meal came quickly, and she settled in for a delicious supper of roast lamb and taters. Marcho and Bingo were talking quietly on the other side of the table and she made no attempt to listen. She was a great deal more concerned about Posco's return. Confused and heartbroken as she was about his actions outside, she wanted him to return so she could talk to him. This waiting was agony, but it was the only choice she had... to wait.

Witch_Queen

09-20-2004, 06:40 AM

Cree

"Fainu how can you say that? I have found that curses stay with a person for almost all their life. I know that all too personally. You think since you have this curse that you should allow it to shield you from your own feelings. Fainu you are not the only one that has changed. I have lived everyday with these "episodes". Believe me sometimes I don't even know if I will wake up." Cree knew her words were going strait to something but she didn't care.

She didn't let her curse get in her way of having feelings. She didn't see why anyone else would. She could feel the pain in her side worsen. She knew that it wouldn't be long before her curse ended it all. The only thing Cree wanted now more than anything was to have someone that atleast could return her love.

Her curse had already cost her so much. Even now Cree couldn't decide if the curse was indeed a gift. She didn't know anymore. Due to her curse she had lost the only thing that mattered, her own life. "Fainu, your scars are physical and only go skin deep. While mine are both physical and emotional. Do you know how it feels to have everyone blame you for the death of your father?" Cree paused to breathe and winced at the on growing pain in her side. "I guess you don't. I had to leave my home so that I could find out the truth about my life. Believe me when I say that when you're searching for life it makes it that much more lonely. It was only when I came here that I met a companion that has yet to abandon me." Cree motioned to the white crow beside her.

Well of course Avalon wouldn't abandon me. After all she was alone when she found me. We need each other and that is the way it is. No matter how many times I feel alone, Avalon will always be there when I am indeed alone. Cree tried to keep the pain in her side down to a minimum. Looking up through slanted eyes Cree noticed that Fainu was looking at her with what she thought was concern. Yet she ignored it, in the long run she knew he would leave her again to the solitary confinment of life. I don't need their pity. In the end I will not even need their charity. This curse is my own and no one elses.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-20-2004, 09:58 AM

Fáinu looked at her with concern and a sort of understanding. He shook his head and looked her in the eyes.

"I do not know how it feels to be blamed for my fathers death do I?" He almost smirked, but could not, "Many do. Often I heard 'They say Manstarmin was to blame for the death of his parents' in a way, it is true."

A shadow fell upon him then. as the memories came back again. He heard the laughter of Smaug in his mind and saw his mother's face being consumed in flame. Looking up he saw that Cree seemed impatient.

"Forgive me, Cree." He sighed, "You said you are cursed... I hath never head this. Or do you mean you are cursed with awful memories? Tell me what happened to you on that day, for I saw you not ever after it until today."

Cree was silent. He did not think she would tell him, he knew the hurt of that day, all too well. He closed his eyes and hung his head.

He opened his eyes to see Cree walking out of the inn. He leaped to his feet and dashed after her. Opening the inn door he saw her walking over a hill, he dashed up it. When he was half way up it he heard a horrid sound. Laughter. Smaug's laughter. He stopped and fell over backwards, he scrambled backwards. Then, over the hill he saw a flame creep up, followed by laughter again. Smaug's hideous rotten head came over the ridge, holding the bodies of his parents.

"Thou art next on my list!" Came the repulsive voice before he drew a deep inhale and then an immense ball of flame came towards him...

With a jump Fáinu opened his eyes and found that he was still in the inn. Cree was still sat opposite him and seemed to be thinking. She noticed that there was fear in his eyes, he breathed heavily as if with fright and a drop of sweat rolled down his face. He shook his head and tried to smile.

"Come," he said at last, "Or do you wish for my story first?"

Witch_Queen

09-20-2004, 11:44 AM

"My story? You actually want to hear about my miserable life story." Cree looked at Fainu shocked to see that for once someone wanted to hear about her past. "Ok then. When I said cursed, I meant it. My memories are only a plague that I can't rid myself of." Cree went on to tell Fainu about the day she watched her own father die. "It was terrible. I was so young to witness death with my own eyes. He layed there bleeding and I couldn't stop it." Standing up Cree took her cloak off and showed Fainu the cut on her side. "The pain comes and goes as it wants to." She went on to tell how she left everything behind and didn't even want to stay in Eryn Lasgalen. Cree didn't even go to Rivendell for fear that someone may return her back to her home.

"Fainu, I arrived here in the Shire and meet a few people. One elf who was so kind to take me on his journey for "meaning". That didn't matter. I have episodes, some are where I "fall asleep". While others is where my side bleeds. Perhaps I did kill my father. After all since when did a cut that was never there begin to bleed?" Cree pressed her hand against her side. The pain was becoming too much for her. Cree figured that perhaps she had remembered too much of her past.

Her light blue shirt had fresh blood marks from where her side began to bother her again. "Perhaps no one will understand what I go through everyday not knowing whether this is my last day or not." She felt her heart stop for a moment. Then it skipped a beat. "Indeed Fainu we are both cursed. May the curseed be cursed together." Her words stuck in her mind. She knew now there was no turning back. She had already told Fainu what she dare not tell anyone else.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-20-2004, 12:03 PM

"Thou art cursed with terrible memories and guilt," said Fáinu solemnly, "However, there is one thing I must ask." He leaned forward and held out his burned hand, the rotten bandage had blood stains on it. There was a pin holding it on that was gold and had the dwarven "D" rune on it.

He took off the pin and removed his bandage; Cree saw for the first time how deep the burn went. More than skin deep though Fáinu to himself, he wanted to say it, but thought it rude.

"Where were you on that day?" he asked looking into her eyes, "Perhaps my actions would have been different if you had been there." He thought back to that day. He had gone into Dale to see his Father, that morning he could not find Cree anywhere. And at noon, the Dragon came.

"Cree, my dear friend," he said, "I ask this only because it the only peace of the jigsaw I cannot fit." He looked deep into her eyes and saw sorrow. "You must realise how difficult it is for me now." He looked over at Adu, "Adu has Hama, you have your crow, and I have nothing. Nothing but old wounds that will never heal, a constant reminder of how I betrayed my family. Betrayed my friends, and betrayed myself. A friendless wanderer, cursed by a Dragon."

piosenniel

09-20-2004, 03:23 PM

NOTICE OF MOVING TIME FORWARD IN THE INN

On Wednesday (day after tomorrow) I'd like to move the time forward to the next day.

So, please get your posts and exchanges between characters done that you need to by then.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

Witch_Queen

09-21-2004, 06:38 AM

So perhaps I am to blame for what has happened to Fainu. Cree felt her heart sink deeper in her chest. "Fainu I only left to prevent anyone else from being hurt. I did go looking for you, yet your father said you was gone." Cree didn't know what to do anymore. Everyone she had ever cared about, she ended up hurting in the long run. Now what? She looked around and noticed that Adu had Hama and indeed it appeared that Cree had Avalon. Something to her didn't seem right. "Fainu the only reason I have Avalon is because she reminds me of you and my father. I see in her what I had for the longest time seen in you. I would have given my own life to be there with you."

Cree didn't know what else she should tell Fainu. She reached in her pack and pulled out a necklace. The necklace was just a simple peace of lace. In the center was a red gem. The light hit the gem and made it sparkle. "Fainu, do you remember this? You gave it to me so long ago that it seems like a distant memory. I told you it would never leave my neck, yet I only removed it to hide my identity." Cree looked at Fainu who seemed to be far away from her. "Perhaps now you have found the last piece to your puzzle?"

Hookbill the Goomba

09-21-2004, 09:18 AM

"Perhaps now you have found the last piece to your puzzle?"

Fáinu looked up at her and tried to smile. He knew that jewel; he had found it in Moria in 1690 III, when he was but 170 years old. He had given it to Cree on her birthday. Although to Elves, birthdays are seldom celebrated. Some how he had thought it pleasant to give a gift to a dear friend, he had always heard tell from his brother of the custom of the Hobbits who gave gifts on birthdays.

"The puzzle?" he said after a pause, "I know not. The puzzle of life is never complete till the end of days. However, my understanding of that black day is now complete. I don't suppose you know of what happened to me in full... Only Elrond and Adu know, I have told no one else."

He then went on to tell her what Smaug said, and how he was cursed. When he told her that he had leaped into the water only to see his parents being consumed in flame, Cree looked shocked, to her, she had only heard that he had fallen in the fight, but Elrond had told her of Manstarmin's survival, and of his new name, Fáinu.

"Now do you understand, Cree?" he said sadly, "Even a normal Dragon wound would have healed by now, his curse has held so far. I do not doubt that more he would have cursed me with if my father had not speared him in the face. That perhaps was luck... in a way." he paused and Cree saw in his eyes that he seemed to be looking far off.

"Perhaps he did curse me," he continued "to be ever cast out, for that is all that I have known since that day. The elves of Mirkwood cast me out, they did not believe that I fought in the battle against Smaug, and that I had dwelt among them. They called me a liar and an Orc friend.

“My Brothers cast me out, they were jealous of the renown I gained after sleying many goblins and saving their lives. Ellodan and Elrohir cared little for me, they did not know me like their father did. They were friends of Manstarmin, but not of Fáinu, they distrusted me.

"Some times, I dream that I am destroyed by flame, and then I wake up, and the pain of my hand grows, and I wish I was in Mandos. Surly there is healing in Aman, there all hurt can be cleansed... Some how, those words do not bode for me."

Witch_Queen

09-21-2004, 09:47 AM

"Fainu if I was to loose you again I don't believe anything could save me then. Part of my curse is one I brought about on myself. Indeed I do feel guilty for the death of my father. Yet there was nothing I could do to save him. His spirit had already left his body and all that remained was an empty shell. One who tries often fails many times. I know this for a fact." She looked up at her friend. To her the feelings she had for him didn't die when Manstarmin died. She would always love the elf she grew up with. He was her young love and nothing or no one was going to change that for her. Cree looked down at her empty mug. She hadn't even noticed that the bottom was bone dry and there was nothing else contained in the mug. For some reason she felt that at her search for life it had only began like the mug itself. She was empty to all feelings and she knew it was her own doings. "Fainu, I never forgot you and I never will. To me you are the closess thing I have now to my past life. You tell me of how it feels to be unwanted and unloved. Yet can you not remember long ago. You had pledged your life to me and I had done the same to you. We had promised that the feelings we had between each other would never die 'less one was to find their escape from middle earth."

Cree didn't want her friendship to ever end with Fainu. She thought of him as the final half of her soul. She needed him to be with her and didn't want him to abandon her or die any time soon. If it came to it, Cree would take him to Aman and get his curse. Cree only wanted his and her own pain to go away. She missed the joy that she had in her life at one point. She missed the walks under the moon and stars. She even missed the parties they would go to. Cree missed so much and knew there was only one hope of bringing it back. "Fainu, lets go to Aman and get rid of this curse. I don't want to live my life in fear and I know you don't want to live your whole life not knowing when the final stroke of the curse will fall. It is all up to you Fainu, leave in a few days and get rid of this curse or live the rest of what life you have left in the shadows."

Cree knew she didn't need to put someone in that type of situation. She only felt it right to actually do something in her life. "If the wrong person does something right it is considered wrong, yet if the right person does something wrong it is considered right. Fainu I think it is time that we actually do something about our life. If anything fails we can always come back to the Shire and then go back to Eryn Lasgalen or Rivendell. Take your pick." Cree was no longer sure of what she was saying. She for once believed that she had drunk too much ale. "Forgive me my friend, it seems that my own mouth has ran away with myself." Cree blushed in embarrasement but also in frustration. She had never known herself to ramble like that before.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-21-2004, 10:17 AM

"I wish I could go to Aman," said Fáinu, "Cree, you must know, that my fate is sealed, There is, perhaps, one thing that have to do before I leave Middle Earth for ever." He put the bandage back on and fixed it with the pin. he saw that Cree was sad, he had always regretted leaving her.

"Cree, I know that thou art angry that I left you.,” he said leaning forward, "You see, I had to. No one knew me! Even Elrond had to look deep into my heart to see who I was. Although our bond was strong, I did not know if it was strong enough to weather the curse of Smaug. I knew that If I ever saw you, I would have to tell you that Manstarmin was dead, for to the rest of the world, he is. I did not, still do not, wish to bring you to any harm that may come of my fate."

He saw that a tear rolled down her cheek, he took from his pocket his handkerchief and handed it to her. He knew how hard it was for the both of them to remember the terrible events in their lives. He asked the bar maid for some more drinks. They came swiftly and Fáinu drank to clear his throat.

"Do not weep, Cree," he said as she wiped the tear from her cheek, "If you wish to go with me, I will not stop you. Rivendel seems not to be a place of refuge. Not since Elrond departed did it seem joyful. Eryn Lasgalen holds too many memories of my awful fate. i have considered travelling to the far north, for there, I may find use, Dwaline the dwarf asked for my sword in battle, for there is a lot of it there near the grey mountains. Goblins and others of a less than savoury nature."

He smiled at her, for now, he seemed to remember some of the times they had spent together, and he wished he could go back to that time, but knew he could not. Every time he savoured a fond memory, a flame would consume it, and a malice filled laughter would block out all other sound.

Witch_Queen

09-21-2004, 11:45 AM

I would follow him anywheres even to death. Yet even now I find it hard to let him go off to what I know will be sudden death. Cree couldn't tell herself that she hated him for what he did. Yet she couldn't even tell herself that it was going to end well. Since when did she actually have the mind to tell herself that she didnt' know what she wanted. "Fainu, please don't go away. I have a bad feeling that you fighting will only bring you a quicker and more painful death." Cree noticed that she no longer had any tears to shed. After all she didn't shed them for Fainu, it was for her friend Manstarmin.

Deep down inside Cree didn't know what she wanted anymore. "Fainu don't go away again. Please just stay here with me. Perhaps we can go up north. Still not now. I fear for the sake of your own soul." To her that was the breaking point. She couldn't stand it anymore. Standing up suddenly Cree ran out of the inn and headed to the stables. She knew the horse she acquired on her journeys would be there. Walking over to her horse with tears rolling down her cheek, Cree tried to hide herself in the stables with her horse. She thought she heard someone, "Go away!" Looking up she saw the only face that ever brought her comfort.

"Well, if you wish it so." With a blow of the wind her father was gone. The figure she thought was her father was instead Fainu. Still not recognizing that it was him, Cree ran over to "her father". To her she didn't want to loose him again. She felt a hand on her cheek. Looking up she realized that instead it was Fainu.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-21-2004, 12:39 PM

As Cree had sun out of the inn he remembered the vision he had had just a few minuets ago. Reluctantly he went to the door of the inn, to his relief, she was near the stables rather than going over the hill.

As she ran to him, he suddenly felt a deep foreboding fall upon him. All seemed to go quiet, he could not even hear if she was talking to him. Birds sang in the trees and he did not hear them. It passed. He looked at Cree and felt pity.

"I do not wish to leave you," he said, and with truth, "I am not ready to leave. I shall not go anywhere for at least a month."

Avalon rested upon the top of the inn and crowed. She sensed that Cree was unhappy, and now distrusted Fáinu. But still, Fáinu did not wish to lead Cree to harm, he knew that if she followed him, she would surly perish, he knew what dwelt in the north, not only Orcs and Trolls. He stepped back and placed both hands on her shoulders.

"I will not leave you by choose," he said, "I cannot see any hope for myself, only darkness. I do not think that my future will be present; I fear it will be filled with torture, torment, anguish, and flame. If you wish to be by my side through all of that, then I shall stick by thee to whatever end. Even if the end of days comes and the world is crashing about us, still I shall be by you. Do you wish for such a fate?"

He saw that tears were rolling down Cree's face; he did not know what to say to her. All of a sudden the pain of his wound began to hurt again. He pulled his hand back like one who spills hot water on their hand. The pain passed, and he thought it very curious. He looked up at Cree and saw that she was looking in curiosity at his hand, why had it begun to hurt now? None knew. Perhaps, it was the memory of the day, and the fact that Cree was the first one he thought of after it happened.

Soon he felt that he needed to rest and spend some time to think about all that had happened. He took Cree's hand and held it firmly.

"Think on all I have told you," he said, "Elrond told me that I will face peril and torment before the end. Although I do not wish to put you in harm's way, I fear that I am destined to put to hurt, all whom are dear to me." He turned and went in to the inn. He went down the road to a small cottage, it was owned by Dwaline, and he had leave to use it. He went swiftly to sleep and had troubled dreams.

Boromir88

09-21-2004, 01:00 PM

Rorin rejoined his companions, Falin and Groin, and they begin discussing what took place. "Did you find out anything about Bundin?" Falin asked Rorin. Like a bolt of lightning, it strikes Rorin, he completely forgot about Bundin. Rorin, sort of in a stammer, "It slipped my mind. I never looked upon a lady so fair before. I must of forgotten to ask."

They continued on with the conversation, until Ruby Brown had finally served their dinner. "Excuse me my lady, but do you know anything, or anyone, who would know about a companion of ours, Bundin?" questioned Groin. Ruby answered, "Bundin, no, I never heard of that name before, but you might want to ask the innkeeper, Aman, or maybe the Mayor, Master Gamgee, could be of some help. Can I get you anything else?" "No thankyou," replied Groin "that will be all."

Rorin proposed "Tomorrow, I can ask Aman, and maybe you two can go talk to the Mayor." Falin joked "Considering the circumstances, I think it would be better if myself or Groin asked the innkeeper." Rorin blushed, and that was the last thing said about Bundin, for the remainder of the night.

Primrose Bolger

09-21-2004, 01:36 PM

‘What a long day it’s been,’ thought Ginger as she dragged herself up the back kitchen stairs to the little rooms above. She untied the ribbon that held back her curls, letting them fall forward to frame her brow and cheeks. Her arms and shoulders ached from the unfamiliar task of carrying trays loaded with food and drink and her legs were a bit sore from the running up and down the steps from the common room to help with the cleaning of the dusty attic rooms for the expected guests.

Buttercup and Ruby were still in the kitchen washing and drying the last of the dishes; heads together as they reviewed the tidbits of gossip they’d picked up that day. Cook had cleared the kitchen’s big table and set out the bowls, pans, oil, yeast, and flour she’d be needing for her early morning baking. A clean dishtowel had been thrown over it all and served as a signal that no one was to move what she’d put there. From her vantage point on the stairs, she could just hear Cook saying goodnight to the two other girls and then the firm closing of her door off the kitchen as Miz Bunce settled in for the night.

‘Bright and early, my dear,’ she recalled Cook telling her, just before she’d hustled Ginger out of the kitchen and up to her rest. ‘The sugar and cinnamon buns will be cool enough then for you to ice them. Oh, and make sure you’ve brushed off your blue skirt and pin on a clean apron before you come down. We’ll want you looking nice tomorrow.’

Once in her room, she hurried out of her clothes, draping them neatly over the backs of two ladderback chairs. A light cotton shift replaced them for the night, and she managed a few swipes at her skirt with the clothes brush before declaring her arm just too tired to do any more. ‘It’ll have to do,’ she said, a light guilty flush creeping into her cheeks. Two or three swipes with a wet washcloth did for her nightly washing-up, And with a grateful sigh, she climbed into the covers of her little cot, pulling the quilt up snugly about her shoulders. A few restless twitches as her aching muscles relaxed under the weight of the blankets, then sleep claimed her.

piosenniel

09-21-2004, 01:39 PM

NOTICE OF MOVING TIME FORWARD IN THE INN

On Wednesday (tomorrow) I'd like to move the time forward to the next day.

So, please get your posts and exchanges between characters done that you need to by then.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

Firefoot

09-21-2004, 08:31 PM

Lily looked up hopefully when she heard the sound of the Inn's door opening. Sure enough, there were Posco and Blanco. The twins spotted them and made there way over to the table. Lily fought hard to keep her conflicting emotions off her face, and she would have succeeded but for the confused pleading in her eyes. Help me understand, she willed. Your actions seem to conflict in meaning with each other... She realized that Marcho and Blanco had risen from their seats.

"We need to be getting back to your aunt's house," said Marcho. "It's getting later." Lily sighed and rose, saying, "Will you be travelling back to Buckland tomorrow? Or are you staying for a little longer? I will be around... if you decide to stay, that is..." she trailed off.

"I have not decided yet," said Marcho. Was that a touch of sympathy in his expression?

"Well, perhaps I will see you all tomorrow then," said Lily. "If not, then I guess this is good-bye." She tried to swallow the lump that was rising in her throat. It wasn't fair. Now she might never get her chance. She just needed more time.

They said their farewells, Posco polite and shy as ever and Blanco his usual gallant self. Blanco called across the room to Peony, "Come, Peony, we are leaving!" She and Hal got up from their table in the corner to join them.

"It was nice meeting you, Peony, Hal," said Lily.

"And you," replied Peony smiling. "Good night." With that the small party began to make their way back towards the door. On impulse, Lily snagged Posco's sleeve as he was walking away.

"Posco, if you leave tomorrow, I will miss you," she said softly. She wondered if he had noticed the tears that were starting to well up in her eyes. She thought that he looked slightly bewildered, though she could see no cause for it. At last he nodded. "Good night, Lily." He turned and hurried to catch up with the others, who had mostly disappeared through the door.

When they had gone, Lily turned toward the stairs, having nothing else to do but return to her own room. Her own words echoed in her head. I guess this is good-bye. She vowed to herself it would not be the last good-bye. Whether they came back or left tomorrow, it wouldn't be.

piosenniel

09-22-2004, 09:17 AM

~*~*~*~ Notice of New Game Opening ~*~*~*~

Witch_Queen invites you to come play in her new game: Ungoliant’s Children

The Discussion Thread, HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?p=352171#post352171), is now open to take on players.

Come join! Should be a fun game!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

mark12_30

09-22-2004, 10:16 AM

Bolco slipped inside the Inn, ordered a glass of wine, and sat in a corner. The wine arrived, and he quietly raised it, and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Mr. Frodo. And ... to your mad old uncle, too."

He sat and slowly savored the wine. He watched the proceedings in the inn with interest, but there was a faraway light in his eye, and his thoughts were elsewhere.

piosenniel

09-22-2004, 01:45 PM

Please note CHANGE OF TIME:

It is now early morning - night has passed. Sleepy patrons of the Inn are wandering down to the Common Room, looking for their favorite beverage and a plate of breakfast.

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

Hookbill the Goomba

09-22-2004, 02:06 PM

Fáinu walked into the inn after a long night of unpleasent dreams. His face was grim and his clothes were creased and his eyes were bloodshot. The floor was hard under his feet as he slumpped in a corner and ordered a drink to help wake him up. nether Cree or Adu were anywhere in sight.

Dost thou not see? Thou hast been reected and forgoten once again.

his thought was telling him all the negative things. he tried to re asure himself, thinking perhaps that Cree and Adu had gone t lodgings for the night and moved on to places where they were happier.

Lalwendë

09-22-2004, 02:42 PM

The cool morning air came through the open window in gentle breaths, lifting the cotton curtains. Birds sang in the trees and a little cat, out for some early hunting, sat by and watched, too sleepy yet to do much more than twitch his tail at them. Outside the world was waking up but in her bed chamber Jinniver still slept soundly. The patchwork counterpane was tucked tightly around her and in her arms she clutched a pillow.

Jinniver’s clothes lay in a messy pile on the floor where she had climbed out of them last night, too tired to delay getting to bed any longer than necessary. One boot was at the foot of the bed, and the other under the window, where she had balanced on one leg while trying to undo her laces and open the window at the same time. She had felt stifled by the heat which came up through the floorboards and had felt that if the window wasn’t left open it would be too hot to sleep. Sometime during the night, she had begun to feel cold, but rather than get up and close the window she had simply rolled herself snugly into the counterpane.

Her hair had been loosened and it lay in a tangled chestnut heap about her head, and her eyes twitched a little as she dreamed. Into her dreams came a picture of men riding horses, shouting as they galloped. The land they rode through was empty and windswept, but they drew close to a hill, to the hill at Bree, and the land became green and fresh. Night fell in her dreams and she felt she was riding with the men, breathless and panicky as they hurried on towards her own farm. She saw her niece standing by the roadside, and her father ran out shouting in desperation as one of the men reached out and took hold of the girl’s arm without slackening his pace. “No!” she shouted, and found she had no weapons, nothing to stop this from happening. “No!”

Jinniver choked as she shouted and her eyes opened, their pale blue colour tinged with a little redness. She rolled over and blinked, realising she was in her room at the inn, and that she had dreamed again.

Firefoot

09-22-2004, 03:08 PM

When Lily finally woke up after a long, restless night she was half tempted to try and fall back asleep. She was still tired, and she had no desire to go down and face the world. She thought of home again, and immediately banished the idea of returning so soon. She might not ever leave Bree again, and she wanted to make the most of her stay in the Shire. With that in mind she yawned, rolled over, and got up.

She did not pay attention to how she dressed; she put on the same dress that she had changed into the previous night because it was still clean and only combed her hair rather than pull it back. Yawning once more she wandered downstairs to the common room.

Lily was not particularly hungry, but she ordered a plate of breakfast anyway. She did not know anyone in the common room, and feeling rather lonely she decided to simply sit at a table by herself. She tried to eat, but she was unable to make herself swallow more than a few bitefuls. Finally, she set down her fork and pushed back her plate. She sat there contemplating the day - what she would do if Posco did come back... or if he didn't. If the latter was so, Lily reckoned she would be moving on. Maybe even back home. Lily decided she did not like this feeling of hopelessness. What she didn't know was how to stop it...

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-22-2004, 03:44 PM

The smell of fresh hay and sunshine awoke Snaveling like an old friend, and for a moment he lay in the stable wondering where his rich clothes had come from. It was as though time had gone backward and he was once more the bedraggled wanderer, unable to afford a room and forced to sleep with the horses and do small chores to earn his keep. He rolled onto his back and looked up through the dancing motes that shone in the shafts of light that came through the chinks in the stable wall. The press of hay beneath him was a welcome relief from the beds he had slept in for so many months. He spoke to the empty air, “A bed is all right for sleeping, but for a really good night’s rest, only a nice pile of fresh hay can satisfy.” He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

Toby’s snoring brought him back to reality. Rolling onto one elbow he looked at where his friend lay, and once more was struck by the profound ironies of their situation. The last time they had shared this stall, Snaveling had been the threadbare beggar on the run from his past and Toby is odd rescuer. Now, it would appear, the situation was exactly reversed! The old hobbit had remained close lipped about his troubles last night, but he had let enough slip that Snaveling knew something was terribly wrong, and that his friend was on the run. The Halfling’s manner with Aman, odd as it was, clearly bespoke his desire to fade into obscurity and anonymity. Snaveling knew the agony of such an existence and was determined that if there were anything he could do to save his friend from such a fate, he would. If money were a problem, then he could help his friend for sure, for the King had been generous to Snaveling, giving to him what wealth and status remained in Gondor that had belonged by rights to the Kings of Numenór. It all amounted to a sum much less than many of the richest landholders and merchants in Gondor held, but it was a fortune beyond the reckoning of most. From what he knew of such matters, Snaveling was sure that by Shire standards he would be considered wealthy beyond all belief.

He winced slightly at the memory of his blunder last night with Jinniver. He was not used to money, or to paying for things, and there were times when his naïveté with such matters were painfully clear. He was afraid that his insistence upon paying for the pipeweed had been such an occurrence. He would have to find a way to make it up to Jinniver, that is what King Elessar would want…on the other hand, if she were so foolish as to take money and then offence for having it offered her, then why should he bother? Snaveling felt his eyes harden and narrow, but he shook away the expression, reminding himself that his old way of life was now over. He was a new man, and fit to act like one.

Stirring from his bed so as not to wake his friend, he stole from the stall. He smiled at the memory of Aman’s face when she had offered him a room and he had insisted on sleeping in his old quarters instead. “They feel more like home to me than anywhere else in Middle-Earth” he had explained, and it had been enough. She had understood instantly. He greatly loved that capacity she had; of all the people he had met since he came in from the wild, she was the one who seemed most capable of understanding. Her and Roa…but the comparison brought him up short. They both understood him, but where Aman’s understanding felt like forgiveness, the understanding of the Ranger woman was of a more stern nature. It was as though Aman did not mind that he could not live up to the standard set for him by Roa. Strange that he should feel the way he did then…but there was nothing he could do to change that.

He went first to check in with his mount. The great black stallion was housed very well, and had already been thoroughly brushed, fed and watered. His stall was filled with fresh hay and the doors of the stable had been thrown wide open to give the animal a bright wash of fresh air to bathe in. Whatever else Snaveling might think of the stablemaster Derufin, he was good at his trade and careful in the fulfilment of his duties. Snaveling stroked the horse’s mane and nickered at him silently. He passed his hands over the horse’s neck and shoulders, moving them down the sides and then up again to the high, powerful haunches, simply for the pleasure of feeling the life and strength of the creature. He was indeed a wonderful horse, one of the finest ever to come from the westfold. He had been a gift to the King by a nobleman of Rohan, and the King Elessar had given him to Snaveling. Every time the man beheld the horse he was moved by the beauty and grace of the being. It was indeed a royal horse, and a mighty gift…

Leaving the stables and passing through the Inn’s garden door he went into the kitchen and found it in its usual state of morning chaos. Cook and her helpers were hard at it making the piles of food demanded by the patrons. He was given sour looks by most of the kitchen’s occupants, for he was a pair of hands that seemed not to be wanting to help. Snaveling quickly ducked his head and slid from the room, as he had come in search of the Innkeeper, not breakfast. He tried the Common Room next but once more it was blank of the person he sought. Finally, he tried knocking on the door of Aman’s private room but there was no answer. It was as he heard the empty echo of his knock coming back to him that he suddenly remembered where she would be. With a slight smile on his face, Snaveling sprang up the stairs, and made for the high roofbeams of the Green Dragon Inn.

starkat

09-22-2004, 04:16 PM

Gwenneth woke slowly after having fallen asleep whil reading last night. She too a few moments to rebraid her hair and after changing in to clean clothes, the young elf maid followed the smell of breakfast wafting up from below.

Fiddling with the jewel she wore around her neck, Gwenneth order a light breakfast. She took a seat at an empty table and watched the other patrons as they came down for the start of a new day.

Witch_Queen

09-23-2004, 09:15 AM

She walked down the stairs looking around her to see if she could find any of her friends. Coming to a corner across the room, Cree saw Fainu setting all alone. She slowly walked over as if not to startle him. So he didn't leave. She placed her hand on his shoulder before taking her seat. "Its good to see you again, Fainu did you sleep well?" She noticed that it seemed as if he was still asleep. Looking closer she noticed that he had already been drinking ale without her.

She walked up to the counter and grab a mug of ale to make sure she was awake. "Fainu.. are you home?" She shook him and realized something didn't seem right.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-23-2004, 09:41 AM

Fáinu looked up sharply, then he saw that it was Cree and he smiled. He shook the weariness from his head and opened his eyes as he could.

"I have not slept well for a long time," he said, "Save a few time when much ale has been drunk." he smiled as he jested. Cree smiled back and Fainu asked her if she wished for a drink. She nodded and he went to the bar for two, as he had finished his own.

He came back to the table and passed a medium sized wooden mug to Cree. It had a small green dragon carved into one of the sides and was considered by the Hobbits to be good craftsmanship.

"Dist thou sleep well?" asked Fáinu remembering his manners, "and is Hobbit hospitality as well to do as the tales tell?"

He sipped his drink almost as if he had forgotten all that had happened the previous day, almost as if he was back in mirkwood when they would sit together and talk as old friends.

Envinyatar

09-23-2004, 12:28 PM

‘What a fool I’ve been! Here the sun’s come up and I’ve not had a wink of sleep.’ Falmar had snorted at this statement, shaking her head as if to agree with her rider’s assessment of himself.

Derufin had ridden all night. And ‘Falmar his willing accomplice. The grey horse had been glad to go tearing down the lanes and across empty fields, mane and tail streaming back in the wind of her own passing. Aimless at first, they headed east on The Great Road, then circled round until they had come near the little path that went up toward the old Hobbit’s house where Zimzi had gone to stay. But it had been dark, no lights within when he’d crept up to little windows at the rear. He hesitated to knock on them, not knowing which room was the old Hobbit’s and which was his Zimzi’s. Instead, he’d turned his mount away and let her have her head.

Now morning had come and Famar had found her tired way back to the Inn. Derufin had toweled and brushed her, then left her with clean water and a rick of sweet hay with alfalfa. Tired himself, he’d gone straight to his room, intending to throw himself on his bed for a few moments’ rest. Someone had put a small bouquet on the table by his bed. He picked up his waterglass, now vase, and brought the fragrant blossoms to his face. The sharper husky-sweet scent of rosemary tickled his nose. He sneezed, shaking the posy a bit as he did so, and something fell from it onto his cot. His fingers turned over the little piece of jewelry, feeling the smooth and rough surface slide between them. Mother of pearl! Zimzi’s brooch! She’d been here and he’d missed her!

A laugh welled up and burst out into the room. They must have passed each other at some point, each intent on their own little self-set task. With a continued chuckle, Derufin plucked a sprig of the flowering rosemary from the posy and tucked it into the top button hole of his leather vest. A little of the weariness had left him at the thought of dear heart having come to see him. He popped the brooch into his vest pocket with a smile.

And with a somewhat lighter step, he made his way to the Inn to break his fast with Cook’s good food and many cups of strong sweet tea to fortify himself for the day.

Arry

09-23-2004, 02:21 PM

Andwise nodded his head at Derufin as he entered the common room. The man sat with a heaping plate of eggs, fried ham, and thick slices of toast slathered with butter and jam. He ate with a certain gusto, pausing now and then to take great gulps from his mug of steaming tea. The Hobbit smiled a bit at the picture as he approached the table where Derufin sat. Derufin, his mouth full of toast, pushed out a chair for the Hobbit with his foot and gave a brief nod of his own toward it.

‘You know, you keep tucking into your food like that and the lads will have you entered in the pie-eating contest at the Spring Faire!’ He looked beneath the table at Derufin’s boots and tapped them lightly with his toe. ‘Boots still, eh?’ He grinned widely at the man who bore a perplexed look on his face. ‘The day I find you with bare feet, I’ll know for sure you’ve turned into a giant Hobbit!’

Derufin put down his fork and laughed at the gentle joke. He waved then at someone across the room, motioning them to come over. Andwise turned to see who their companion might be. It was Ferdy, heading for the kitchen as his father had instructed; his tool box gripped in one hand, banged now and then against his knee. ‘The lad’ll not be joining us for breakfast,’ Andwise said to Derufin, who frowned as Ferdy waved back, but then disappeared through the kitchen’s door. ‘Mistress Bunce has plans for him this morning,’ the Hobbit went on.

‘That cabinet,’ returned Derufin. ‘Ferdy said something about it needing fixed.’ The man drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop. ‘Though for the life of me, I can’t recall it being broken. I’m sure I would have noticed it.’

Andwise gave the man a half-smile and raised his brow slightly. ‘Cook’s plans go beyond a broken cabinet today,’ he said cryptically.

Buttercup had drawn near, wanting to see what the Hobbit would like. He could see her pretended nonchalance at overhearing the conversation and he gave a wink to Derufin. ‘Nowt for me, Buttercup,’ he said, sending her on her way. ‘I’ve had my breakfast already at home. Just come to pick up Derufin here. Got things to talk over . . . concerning the cottage and such . . .’ Buttercup nodded, giving a little sniff of disapproval at being sent off without hearing the particulars.

The Hobbit accepted a cup of tea from Derufin’s pot and drank it slowly as the man finished up his meal. The two then left the Inn making their way toward the cottage, waving as they exited to Buttercup. They walked along in comfortable silence, enjoying the fresh sights and sounds of the new day.

‘Partial to rosemary, are you,’ asked Andwise, noting that every so often the man’s hand strayed to the small sprig in his button hole. His face softened at a forgotten image and he spoke low. ‘My dear wife used to put rosemary in bottles of oil. She’d use a little each day to tame her flyaway curls. Even now I can remember the scent of it as she nestled against me . . .’

Andwise looked into the distance for a brief moment and took a deep breath. Then, gathering his thoughts about him again, he kept silent for the short way left to the cottage.

Lalwendë

09-23-2004, 02:48 PM

Dressed in her crumpled clothes with her hair carelessly knotted back, Jinniver slowly walked across to the stables. Her head hurt and she felt grumpy, and she thought the sharp shock of the cool morning air would do her some good. She needed to see to her horse and let him out into the paddock for some exercise, but more than this, she needed to get out of the inn for a few minutes as the air indoors was still heavy with the smell of ale and pipeweed and she’d had more than her fill of these things last night.

She spent some time grooming her old cart horse, Nutkin, and muttered to him as she brushed his coat. The horse responded by nudging her affectionately, which helped to elevate her poor spirits. By the time she took him out to the paddock her only ailment was the sore head.

Jinniver’s spirits had picked up but soon she began to feel guilty as she thought of her behaviour the night before. She had been impolite in taking the money from Snaveling. The ale was to blame, she knew, but it had been her who had drunk it and this was no excuse. She frowned with frustration as she thought of what she had done. She wished she knew some way of leaving Snaveling the money he had given her for the pipeweed, but she did not want to face him, and she did not know which was his horse or which was his room, or she would have surreptitiously placed the money in the saddle bags or under his door. She stood and bit her lip anxiously, a little afraid of going back inside the inn; if he was in the common room then she would feel ashamed, and she did not want to return the money directly to him.

As she stood there agonising, Jinniver noticed Andwise and Derufin leaving the inn, about to start work, and she realised that she ought to be thinking of getting some breakfast before starting work. She headed back towards the inn, and the thought of work helped clear her mind. She decided to leave the money with a note of apology for Mr Snaveling; she could leave it on the bar where one of the staff would pick it up and pass it on to him.

“And while I’m about that task,” she thought, “I will write to my niece and make sure she knows to keep herself out of mischief.” The memory of the dream was also troubling her.

Primrose Bolger

09-23-2004, 04:34 PM

Ginger rubbed her eyes sleepily as cook took the last pan of iced sugar buns from her and put them on the sideboard to be scooped out onto platters and passed round for second breakfast along with wedges of apple and creamy yellow cheese. ‘You’ve done a good job here, lass. Now take this mug of tea and a bun for yourself and go out to the garden for the rest of the morning.’ Ginger yawned widely, having gotten up early to help with the baking, and shook her head ‘yes’ at the directions.

A mug of tea sweetened with honey and lightened with cream and two buns bursting with fat raisins accompanied her out the back door. She could not help but hear the sound of a familiar voice as she stepped out onto the little landing. Ferdy, it was! Just as Cook had promised. She crossed her first two fingers as best she could between the handle of the mug and the mug itself, and screwed her eyes shut tight for a moment, making a quick wish that all would go well. A loud Ahem from Cook urged her off the landing and through the dusty back yard toward the garden.

An upturned bushel basket served for a seat as she sat down to have her snack before starting work. The bees she noted as she surveyed the garden were already hard at work. They poked their furry little noses deep into the flowering vines and bushes, dragging their fat, yellowed legs from blossom to blossom as drank deep of the nectar. And they hummed all the while, making her smile as she wondered if it were some sort of happy song they’d all learned together as children. Humming herself, her drink finished and the major part of both buns, she licked her fingers clean of the sticky frosting and went to see about the potato mound at the north end of the plot. Cook had been very particular about her heaping up the mounds of straw just so, for the taters to grow in and be plucked out easily. And after that would come the weeding and spading of the little herb plants, followed by the never-ending picking of the beans. And then lunch! Her mind working over the possibilities for that meal, Ginger began taking up great handfuls of straw from the nearby pile to work in about the tater plants.

Her cup and the morsel of bun she’d left by the basket were being worked over themselves. The ants had made a quick march to lap up the sweet sticky fluid in the bottom of the mug, with some of the more enterprising and stronger carrying off bits of the bun back home . . .

piosenniel

09-23-2004, 04:35 PM

Witch_Queen

09-24-2004, 06:38 AM

"I sleep well. Thank you." Cree looked at Fainu and gave him a faint smile. It had been awhile since she had peaceful sleep. It use to be that she would end up walking around the woods because she couldn't put her nightmares away. "I am rather astonished at the fact that for once I wasn't plagued with the normal nightmares." Cree looked at her mug. For some reason she felt like it was telling her what she already knew. Deep down inside she was alone and couldn't do anything about it.

Avalon was outside the inn for her morning breakfast. It seemed like the crow could never have too much mice for breakfast. Cree couldn't understand Avalon, yet then again, Avalon was a crow. That above all else separated them. "Fainu, its nice to know you decided to stay."

starkat

09-24-2004, 06:54 AM

Becoming restless, Gwenneth decided to go visit her mare. The young elf maid exited the common room and headed for the stables. Out of one corner of her eye she could see someone in the garden and she smiled.

Gwenneth reached the stables and went to Elenath's stall. She greeted her mare and began to brush her. Elenath had apparently been lying down the night before because her coat was flecked with straw.

She quickly finished her grooming and made a decision. The elf opened the stall door and led her horse out. Mounting Elenath, Gwenenth took off down a nearby trail.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-24-2004, 09:48 AM

Fáinu smiled and looked out of the window, he saw Avalon chasing some other birds away as she ate her morning breakfast. He looked back at Cree and said;

"I stay because you bid me to," he smiled and sipped his ale, "although I cannot stay in the Green Dragon for ever."

Cree nodded her head in agreement but said nothing. Fáinu looked around, remembering all that had happened, and what he had said the last time they had spoken. He moved these thoughts to the back of his mind and decided to change the subject.

"Your bird is very hungry by the looks of things," he said with a laugh, "She does not seem to wish the others to have any."

Cree smiled and looked out of the window, there was Avalon munching on mice and seeming content. Fáinu took some Dale Cram from his pack and took a bite. He offered a slice to Cree, she took it with a smile.

Witch_Queen

09-24-2004, 11:45 AM

"Yes it does seem so." Cree was off in her own little world. Though she was looking at Avalon she couldn't focus on her. To her, Avalon was her own crow. She didn't have to worry about Avalon. "Fainu, what would have happened if I never would have left Eryn Lasgalen? Would we have had a future together or would we both still be alone?" Cree knew the questions had to of struct a cord.

She turned to look at Fainu. Her face was blank and emotionless. Cree couldn't think of a time that she was ever happier.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-24-2004, 12:31 PM

Fáinu played the events prier to the attack by Smaug over and over in his head. he thought of what would have happened had Cree been there that morning. He drew a few conclusions though the best he could come up with was rather depressing.

"If I had found you that morn," he said after a long wait, "I perhaps would not have gone to Dale with my father. I would have stayed with you, and therefore, would not have gone into combat. Perhaps still I would have heard of my Parent’s death, and my rash heart would have convinced me to seek revenge there and then. I probably would have gone into the Mountain unaided and so death would have come upon me. So be not troubled. Think rather, that your absence saved my life. Despite the fact that it tour us apart for a long while." He looked at his scorched hand and sighed, "Perhaps, there is some thing I must do before the end, why else would Mandos keep me away?"

Cree said naught, his words were cold, and it seemed to her as if he was distant and encased in his own regret. She knew that feeling well, as she carried it herself. it was not pleasant.

"What are you plans, Cree?" asked Fáinu suddenly looking up, Cree jumped as if woken from a dream, "Sorry," he apologised, "I did not mean to startle you. Will you come with me to Imladris when I decide to go?"

Amanaduial the archer

09-24-2004, 02:27 PM

It's amazing how much can be seen from not very far up: you do not have to pass through the clouds with the eyes of an eagle to see an entire world. Another night had passed without rain in the run of good weather, and the neat hills and lazily sprawling fields were visible for impossible miles, vivid emerald with occasional splashes of azure lakes or ponds. Above the sleepy, slouched figure of the Green Dragon Inn, birds sang, and one, an amiably scrawny little sparrow, had perched on the edge of the roof some ten minutes ago, preening itself busily. It took little notice of it's spectator, sprawled motionless on her back some two feet away, her bright green eyes shaded lazily against the sun with one raised arm.

Aman was happier than any windlord as she lay there in the warmth of the morning, dress and light brown hair spread out around her figure as if she was suspended underwater, eyes halfclosed as she watched the little sparrow with the backdrop of the Shire. Her domain. She smiled secretively. A land where the Big Folk had been banned for years, and yet it had become her home.

The sparrow paused suddenly and turned it's head at an almost 180 degree angle, it's whole being seeming to perk up. Cocking it's head on one side, bright eyes like ebony hatpins, it regarded the Innkeeper for a second, then flew away, the scrawny herald to the nobly clad figure whose head appeared on the roof a second later. Aman sat up, but didn't turn her head, a smile creeping across her elfin features.

"Good morning, Snaveling," she said, her voice one with the soft, warm morning breeze. "I see you remembered the way up."

Snaveling gave an ungentlemanly snort as he hefted himself up onto the roof's ledge. "Nearly broke my neck, more like..." he muttered, edging his way with care across to Aman. The Innkeeper allowed her smile to turn into a lazy grin which she flashed at him as he sat down beside her before turning back to the view.

"You found me."

"Of course," he replied instantly, smiling back. Then it wavered and he frowned in mock seriousness and cast a hand around. "Can't you find a less…” the man’s words failed. Aman looked across at him through half closed eyes then drew his eyes outwards again. “Less what? Snaveling, from here…from here, I can see my entire world.”

“Your world? Surely you cannot see as far as Rohan from this roof!” Snaveling jested, peering outwards as if he would be able to see to Eriador all the way to the rooftop of the White Horse and beyond. Aman shook her head. “Nay, Master Snaveling: the ‘Dragon is my home now, my home and my world.”

Even a lonely one.

The Innkeeper could feel the man watching her and hung her head slightly. She knew what had to be said. Looking up then across at Snaveling, her lazily sun-warmed expression became slightly more serious. “Snaveling, I must…I must apologise for my behaviour yesterday. I was…I suppose I just…” She stopped, unsure of how to end the sentence. “Well. I apologise, anyway, if you will accept it.”

Giving him a small smile, the Innkeeper brushed her hand across Snaveling’s as it rose to her face to brush away a strand of hair, and waited.

piosenniel

09-25-2004, 01:48 PM

Cook

‘Oh, aye, Miz Bunce,’ said Ferdy, nodding his head at Cook’s instructions. ‘I can do that, but best I fix that first thing you mentioned, as it will take the longest. Once it’s done, the others will finish lickety-split.’

‘Well, that’s up to you Master Ferdy,’ Cook said, nodding at his reasoning. ‘I want the kitchen in tip-top shape. Lot’s of cooking to be done for the handfasting.’ She eyed him as he picked up his tool box and headed for the cellar stairs. She’d given it some thought, she told him, and wanted some small joined bins, tightly jointed, and with close-fitting lids that the sacks of flour, the dried corn, the bags of oats for porridge and scones, the littler sacks of dried fruits, where they could all be stored without the mice finding their way in for a free meal. And after that he could fix the cabinet door in the kitchen, and could he see to the table, too – it was wobbling more than usual.

‘I’ll have a plate of cinnamon, sugar buns waiting for you when you’ve finished the bins.’ She motioned toward the counter where racks of snailed buns stuck full of fat raisins and iced with a shiny glaze stood waiting to be plundered by the hungry patrons of the Inn. ‘Ginger had hand in these,’ she went on in an artless seeming manner. ‘Wonderful help she is! Lightest hand I’ve seen with batters and eggs and such.’ She sighed, and said, almost to herself, ‘Why some lad has not snatched her up is quite beyond me.’ ‘Ah well,’ she went on, a little louder. ‘She’s certain to be taken up at the dance, isn’t she now?’

She glanced over at Ferdy who’d come to a halt at the head of the stairs, and was looking a little scared as if she expected some answer from him. Cook smiled at him and motioned him off, breaking the small tension that hung in the air. ‘Here now I’m going on and you’re wanting to get on with your task. My stars! We can keep the conversation for the cinnamon buns and tea, can’t we. You go on, Master Ferdy, see to the bins.’ He started down the stairs, getting about halfway down before he heard her once again.

‘And mind the old cat – she’s a bit on the blind side and her hearing’s not as keen as it was . . .’

Arry

09-25-2004, 02:55 PM

The cat was waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Ferdy walked down them. Curled up on an old rag braid rug, she lifted her head in the direction of his footfalls. Her milky eyes blinked seemingly at him and she let out a questioning miao as he sat on the last step for a moment to scratch her ears. Her pink and black piebald nose sniffed at his fingers, seeking an expected treat. Finding none, she turned round and round several times on the rug, settling herself in a little ball at last, her interaction with the stranger at an end in her opinion. Ferdy laughed and got up from the stair. ‘Well, it’s no wonder that Cook needs bins to keep out the marauding mice, Mistress Puss!’ The cat raised her head at the laughter and sneezed once as if to give her opinion, then rested her head on her paws, tail twitching once and coming up to cover her nose.

Ferdy lit the lantern that hung at the bottom of the steps on one of the support posts and made his way toward the wall at the right of the stairwell. Cook had had someone clear away what was stored there. And someone had cleared also a way to the fair-sized stack of lumber the Inn had kept from other such building projects. An old pair of sawhorses was resurrected from beneath the stairwell, the cobwebs brushed from them and a few new nails put in the cross pieces to keep them from being so wobbly. He glanced up to the small windows at the upper part of the cellar walls. They were grimy, the light from them made dimmer by the dirt on them. Dragging a small bench over to each one, he opened them up, letting fresh air and the brighter light from the outside pour in. In a short bit he had set up his work area and was busy measuring and sawing and hammering, punctuated, of course, by muttered curses when something went awry.

Through one of the open windows he could hear someone singing to herself a little ways away. It was a pleasant voice, he thought, and one that made the work lighter. He found himself singing along as he plied his tools. The cat, however, disapproved of all this commotion and the breeze ruffling her fur was the last straw. She stumped up the stairs in a feline huff, tail erect and twitching. Making her way carefully cross the kitchen, she darted in between the legs of the cook stove and settled in the warm darkness there. Cook’s feet slap-slapping along the floor as she went about her business lulled the old girl to sleep.

Primrose Bolger

09-26-2004, 03:26 AM

Ginger worked quite happily in the Inn garden. The potatoes had been mounded all nicely in their little hills of straw, and now she knelt down, taking care to keep her skirt out of the dirt and weeded the neat rows of herbs. Sages of several sorts with their grey, powdery leaves came first. She pinched off a small bud and sniffed it appreciatively. It brought memories to her of a fat goose roasting in a large pan, winter snows at the dark of the year, and the smell of her mother’s bread dressing, redolent of onion and sage. Then came subtle thyme, recalling her father’s grilled trout basted with the little plant’s crushed leaves in butter. And salmon with dill and soured cream. Porkchops with apples and rosemary. Lamb with mint. Ginger’s nimble fingers plucked the weeds from the wanted plants as her mind wandered through each herb's myriad of uses.

The vegetables, proper, came next. Ginger took a small break before she began. She walked to the pump nearby and filled a small wooden bucket half full of cool water. Dipping her mug in it, she drank deep, then dipped in a handkerchief, and wringing it out, cooled her neck and face with it. Two sparrows darted down as she poured the rest along a row of summer squash. They drank their fill where the water puddled, then poked about in the softened dirt for the worms that rose to escape the wet. She watched their antics for a while, smiling at them as they hopped about, their heads cocked this way and that.

Unbidden an old song came to her lips as she knelt back down to weed among the onions, peas, and beans.

Hi! says the blackbird, sitting on a chair,
Once I courted a lady fair;
She proved fickle and turned her back,
And ever since then I'm dressed in black.

Hi! says the blue-jay as she flew,
If I was a young man I'd have two;
If one proved fickle and chanced for to go,
I'd have a new string to my bow.

The sparrows looked up at her once or twice, fixing their bright black eyes on her. She took this as approval and went on.

Hi! says the little leather winged bat,
I will tell you the reason that,
The reason that I fly in the night
Is because I lost my heart's delight.

Hi! says the little mourning dove,
I'll tell you how to gain her love;
Court her night and court her day,
Never give her time to say "0 nay."

Hi! said the woodpecker sitting on a fence,
Once I courted a handsome wench;
She proved fickle and from me fled,
And ever since then my head's been red.

Hi! says the owl with my eyes so big,
If I had a hen I'd feed like a pig;
But here I sit on a frozen stake,
Which causes my poor heart to ache.

The sparrows, glutted with fat worms had flown away. but now, she noted, a trio of robins harried the beetles along the hills of potatoes and one dusty and decrepit looking crow, perched on a bean pole, cast his yellow eye down at the strawberry patch. He flapped his wings in irritation noting that netting had been placed over the plants. The red jewels were out of my reach! he squawked irritably. Ginger shooed him away with a loud shout and a flap of her damp handkerchief. He flew off, but not without first giving her a loud caw! caw! of sharp disapproval.

Hi! says the swallow, sitting in a barn,
Courting, I think, is no harm.
I pick my wings and sit up straight
And hope every young man will choose him a mate.

Hi! says the hawk unto the crow,
If you ain't black then I don't know.
Ever since old Adam was born,
You've been accused of stealing corn.

Hi! says the crow unto the hawk,
I understand your great, big talk;
You'd like to pounce and catch a hen,
But I hope the farmer will shoot you then.

Hi! says the robin, with a little squirm,
I wish I had a great, big worm;
I would fly away into my nest;
I have a wife I think is the best.

A little ways away, Ginger could hear the sound of hammer and saw coming from the Inn. And someone singing along at times with her in a fair voice, though oft times the verses were punctuated by mumbled curses it seemed when something had gone quit wrong . . .

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-26-2004, 06:45 PM

The gentle gesture of Aman’s hand on his own almost shook his resolve, for the very feel of her skin reawakened his concerns. But he had come here with a purpose, and he meant to see it through…he owed that much at least to Aman.

Snaveling moved his hand away, hoping that it would seem natural and not a hurried response. He tried to make light of the moment. “Apologise? Now, what an irony it would be if I were to accept an apology from you, who should rather be awaiting my own expressions of regret. After all that you did for me, and when there was no reason to do any of it… There can be no apologies between us, my friend. Let us rather say that the past has given us both clean slates, and the understanding to say or do as we would wish with one another without fear!” He smiled to see her face light up at his words. He sprang to his feet. “Come!” he cried, “I did not seek you out so that we could grow sombre upon such a beautiful day. I have something to show you.” He held out his hand to the Innkeeper and she accepted it, although Snaveling was sure that she had no need of his help. Quite the reverse.

He stepped to the edge of the roof and grasped the eaves with both hands. His knuckles were white as he swung his legs out into space, and there was a familiar moment of blank terror as his feet sought the window. There was more scrambling, and one tricky moment in which Aman had to steady him, but then he was in the cool darkness of the attic. With much less effort, and more grace, Aman was beside him and laughing. “You still have not mastered that last step, Snaveling!” As she spoke she laid her hand on his forearm, but he did not pull away. Nor did he return the gesture.

“I am too long out of practice,” he replied. “I did not have much cause or reason to clamber about the rooftops of Minas Tirith.”

“What did you think of the White City?” Aman asked as he led her down the stairs. “Was it very different from what you are used to?” Snaveling noted her concern, and was touched by it.

He smiled. “Yes, you could say that. I could not have even imagined such a place. Before I arrived there the largest building I had ever been in – or on – was the Dragon! We arrived at dawn after a long night’s travelling. Roa had been eager to return and insisted we press on through the night. I was surly and ill mannered with her about that, but at the sight of the city in the morning, shining in the light of the early sun, with her banners aloft and the clear ringing of trumpets filling the air… Well, I forgave her the night’s rest I had missed. I would forsake many a comfort to have that sight again…” his voice trailed off into the memory, and he did not see the look that crossed the Innkeeper’s face as he spoke of Roa.

Soon they were passing through the kitchen and into the yard. “Where are you taking me?” Aman asked, smiling still, but with a slight frown of curiosity creasing her brow. Snaveling merely smiled at her and remained silent. He led her across the yard and into the stables, where he directed her to the stall that contained his horse. He stopped and pointed at him.

“What do you think of him?” he asked.

Aman gazed at the creature, and marvelled at its beauty and strength. It was clearly a noble beast of mighty lineage. “He is wonderful,” she said breathlessly, and for the first time since he had known her, Snaveling detected in the woman’s voice an undisguised longing. An oddly displaced woman of Rohan though she was, one of the Rohirrim she remained. “He was foaled upon the western march, if I’m not very much mistaken.” She said.

Snaveling did not try to hide his surprise. “Yes, indeed he was! You have an excellent eye for horses! He was a gift to the King from the lords of that land. He aided them in their struggles against the Dunlendings, and as a token of gratitude they sent him their finest mount. They say that he is bred of the same line from which sprang the legendary Shadowfax, and there are those in Minas Tirith who saw the companion of Mithrandir with their own eyes, and have attested to the likeness. He is, of course, no equal to his mighty cousin, but he is swift and tireless, and as gentle a ride as any in the West.” Snaveling gazed into the horse’s eyes and stroked his mane with a touch that was both gentle and loving. “He was one of the first tokens of friendship and alliance given to me by the King Elessar. I told him that I had never ridden so much as a mule, but the King merely laughed and said that the horse was well given for he would be sure to bear me easily – and he was right! A great friendship has grown between us, and I love him.”

Aman’s eyes grew wide at the strange transformation in Snaveling. He appeared in that moment both more tender and more distant than she had ever seen him. His hands as he ran them over the mane of his friend were those of an ordinary man with his beloved mount, but his eyes and voice were filled with a majesty and timbre like that of the kings of old. Aman shivered, but she did not know why. To break the spell of the moment she asked, “What is his name?”

“I do not know,” Snaveling replied, still gazing into the horse’s eyes. “When the men of the westfold presented him to the King he was but a foal, and as yet unnamed. The King said that only the man who rode him should name him, and as the King is devoted to his own companion who bore him through the dark days of his battles, it was not for him tog give him a name.”

“Then why haven’t you named him?” Aman asked.

“Because he is not mine to name. The instant I laid eyes upon him, I knew that it would be our destiny to become great friends, but that our ways would lie sundered, for there was only one person in the world to whom I could give him. He is yours to name, Aman. I have brought him here as a gift to you, in gratitude for what you did for me in the past, and as a token of the friendship that we will share in the future.”

Kransha

09-26-2004, 08:40 PM

Foul, equestrian smells and vaguely familiar stable sounds bombarded Toby Hornblower’s senses. His eyes, despite their violent protests, were pried open by a flood of broken light, seeping through a wooden, thatched roof above him. Blinking without end, Toby looked up into a mask of hay and debris which clung to his hair, clothes, and face. Instinctively, he pulled his sleeved arm to his face and used the still-numb limb as a cloth. Clawing with stubbly fingernails at the particles of sand in his eyes, Toby slid down the length of the hay mound he had slept upon, and into a conveniently placed globular pile of horse fodder. A surge of his characteristic pride swelling in him, Toby reared up indignantly, snorting under his breath, and shot to his feet. In a brief, arrogant moment, he forgot where he was, why he was, and when he was. All that remained with him was who he was, and that gave him solace. He was Tobias Hornblower the Third, the wealthiest Halfling in all of Eriador…and then reality struck him, in the form of an equally convenient support beam behind him. As he jumped up, the back of his head collided with the edge of the rectangular beam. The real world coruscating all around him suddenly, Toby fell forward, collapsing onto his knees in the hay. He remembered everything he’d wished to forget, all his troubles, and the unhappy circumstance that had brought him to the Green Dragon Inn so late last night.

He again wished to blame something, or someone else for his woes, but the delusions were useless. He thought back, painfully, to his reasons and his activities. He willed himself not to think of the bad and rather emphasize the positive facts, but that attempt also failed. The blow to Toby, dealt less than a week ago, had changed him. It had fallen, like a hammer on a blade of grass, back in his estate in Longbottom. Truly, it was the Hornblower estate, but it had been legally inherited by Toby. That was where the hobbit had fled from, leaving behind his riches, his family, and his life. He’d lost all his earthly goods, save the clothes on his back, and the respect of his peers. Most people had respected Toby, regardless of his reputation, bad or good. The only person who really did not was, in fact, his own sister, Opal Hornblower Boffin. But, despite her, everyone else at least revered his prosperity. That was why the blow was so thunderous when it fell. The worst thing was that he could not anticipate the blow. He had to be told of his own discovery. If he had really been a villain, he would’ve been long gone before this occurred, but alas, he was no real villain, nor was he a real doer of good. He was villainous when he did good and righteous when he did ill. He was a half-rate fellow and a half-rate fiend, of all the humiliations.

Of all the people who had to tell him, it had to be her. She despised Toby, though not openly enough for others to notice. The hatred had oft been equated to simple sibling rivalry, but Toby and Opal knew that it was genuine, unmitigated rivalry. Genetics had nothing to do with the matter. Toby had sidled his way into becoming the richest, most prosperous of all the Hornblower brood, and Opal had never let him live it down, possibly because she had an inkling of his dishonest ways. She certainly had known nothing of his kleptomania, but she always tried to find the most gossipy, overwrought falsehoods about him. The two of them were ever at odds, though Toby was always more jocund about their arguments. On that day, though, that she had approached him with the news, he’d been far from jocund. The smirk on her face actually hurt. Toby knew that he and his sister were never close, but seeing her take pleasure in an event that might result in Toby’s expulsion, ostracism, or worse, made him realize that she really, truly, hated him, and that was another burden that he didn’t need. She’d made the blow all the more painful by parading in with the news just when Toby was with his nephews and nieces. They were the folk he most treasured, as they cared not of his faults, and only yearned to hear his tales. Their innocence was something that granted him peace, and Opal stole both away. Toby hadn’t fled that instant, such action would have been most impolitic, but he did depart less than an hour after he was confronted.

Opal had informed him, with the greatest of subtlety, that his crimes had been discovered, and that he was to be punished duly and swiftly. At first, Toby had thought she meant his various thieveries and attempts at petty larceny. Such things were not looked highly upon, but not considered wholly evil. When she told him what crimes had been discovered, he realized what serious trouble he was in. He had known, then and there, that there was naught left to do, and left. Now, he was here. Last night, he’d narrowly avoided falling into conversation with anyone, even Snaveling. He evaded all questions and queries from the man, though Aman had lacked her curiosity, conspicuously. She seemed to almost understand that he was not suited, at the moment, to answering her questions. Soon after Aman had approached the table he’d been recruited to, the whole inn suddenly emptied, leaving only those die-hards who did not sleep. Politely excusing himself, Snaveling had escorted Toby Hornblower to his nightly home, and, bidding Aman and Jinniver a fond farewell (at least Snaveling had), all had retired, succumbing to simple, needed slumber, a fact for which Toby was immensely grateful. It had been a rough day, and a rougher night, but that was over now.

His long sojourn from reality was disrupted by playful clip-clopping in the stall next to his, and the sound of footfalls. He heard Snaveling’s voice, gentler and milder than ever it had been before. It was soon accompanied by a second source of steady breathing, soon transformed into a voice – that of Amanduial. Toby instantly became filled with consternation and sat bolt upright, his back straightening against the wall of his makeshift bedroom, the horse’s stall. His eyes widened, but then relaxed as he heard the two instead walk into the stall beside his, where that clip-clopping sound proliferated. His ear quivering intently, Toby turned his head toward the source of the conversation and sat back, listening as Snaveling’s next story unfolded.

He listened intently as they spoke. Despite the miscellaneous sounds of the stable, mornings in Bywater were relatively quiet, and Toby picked up every aspect of the conversation. They were talking about the horse, no doubt, the fine animal that Snaveling had brought to the Inn. Snaveling had had a fleeting opportunity to show the steed to Toby the night before, and now he was exhibiting it to Aman, but his air was far different with her. The two of them were so friendly, not as Snaveling and Toby were. Their companionship distinctly reminded Toby of Snaveling and Roa, when they’d first been united. After the events leading up to the Green Dragon’s re-opening festivities, Aman and Snaveling had become close friends as well, sharing that sort of glance that makes one who does not understand the nature of said glance understand. The relationship became closer each time the two were in contact…But, perhaps Toby’s mind was elaborating. After all, he’d been drunk on ale at the time of his last observance. Remembrances of that merry night brought a smile to Toby’s face, but it quickly faded, replaced by a distinguished frown. Shaking off the memory, Toby staggered to his feet as noiselessly as he could and, still keeping his head beneath the top of the stall, moved sideways, edging toward a small peephole in the wood. His curiosity, despite his predicament, remained insatiable. He continued to listen, as the conversation took a most intriguing turn…

piosenniel

09-27-2004, 02:57 AM

Rochfalmar siezes the day . . .

‘Falmar took note of the fawning over her second new stablemate and snorted her disapproval. First the black that Mistress Aman had brought in and now this great sod of a horse that her mistress seemed all goo-eyed over. She stuck her neck out as far as she could over the stable door to see what was happening. A noise from the stall next to hers diverted the grey’s curiosity, and she snaked her head near as she could to peer in what had been an empty stall.

One of the small ones was there looking much like the strawmen put up in the Inn garden to scare off the crows, and smelling much like yesterday’s meal of hay, alfalfa, and oats. His attention she noted was fixed on the goings on in the new horse’s stall.

‘Falmar twitched her ears and chuffed at the interesting tableau. They were all focused on the new horse, or so it seemed. Taking the opportunity, she reached over the stall door and drawing her lips back, grasped the handle of the iron bar that locked her in. She’d seen the stablemaster and his help do it with their hands many times as they opened the door to put her in the stall. And now she put the knowledge to good use. Drawing the bolt up gently, she felt the door give way from the weight of her shoulder against it. She paused, ears twitching again to catch the sound of someone coming toward her. Nothing heard, nothing seen. She dropped the bolt back into its guides and trotted briskly toward the open stable door, her pace picking up until she was at a full gallop as her tail cleared the entryway.

Across the yard she flew, picking up speed. Near the edge of the Inn grounds she slowed to a canter, her ears picking up the sounds of a familiar voice. There, talking to some of the small ones was her friend, Derufin. Perhaps he had time again for her today. Another ride would be nice, she thought. 'Falmar clip-clopped quietly behind him, noting with amusement the wide eyes of the little ones at her approach. ‘What’s the matter?’ she heard him say, as the little ones, taking a cautionary measure, backed away from him.

‘Falmar nodded her head up and down, and with a soft whicker of greeting, nudged the stablemaster hard on the small of his back . . .

---------

. . . Dum loquimur, fugerit invida aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. -- Horace

Envinyatar

09-27-2004, 04:07 AM

‘Oh, that is looking grand, lads!’ Derufin had just come over to where the four Hobbits were putting the siding on the cottage addition. They showed him where the shutters would be hung to each side of the window, and the flowerbox they’d already made up and painted that would hang beneath it. The four Hobbits and Derufin had just begun to discuss where might be best for the other window they’d planned to put in, when the lads had gone silent, their faces expressing alarm.

Derufin’s brow creased as Tomlin and Fallon backed quickly away from him, their eyes wide with wonder and some fear. Gil had looked from where he’d been planing the edges of a shutter, his mouth set in an ‘O!’ of surprise. It was Ferrin who’d called out the beginning of a warning . . . ‘Watch out! There’s . . .’ the lad had managed to squeak out.

A soft, familiar whicker sounded near his left shoulder. He was about to turn, seeking the source when something gave him a hard push from behind. In an instant he lay sprawled on his belly, face down in the dirt. An inquiring snort near his cheek, and the almost chortling nicker near his ear brought him up to his knees . . . face to face with the great grey horse now nuzzling his hair with affection.

‘Falmar!’ he rasped out, spitting the dust from his mouth. Derufin wrapped his fingers in the horse’s mane and pulled himself up to a standing position. ‘What are you doing here, girl?’ He wiped the grime from off his face with the tail of his shirt and ran his hands quickly over the horse. She seemed fine . . . no cuts, scrapes, bumps, or sore spots. Unlike me, he thought with a grimace.

The Hobbits, reassured by friendly interchange of man and beast, drew up near ‘Falmar, their hands reaching up to touch the silvered grey of her coat. She lowered her head, inviting them to scratch between her ears. With an unexpected expression of appreciation, she sent Gil flying on his backside as she nuzzled him on his chest. The other three laughed at his discomfiture, while Derufin offered the lad a hand up, saying it was obvious the horse liked him. Gil hmmph’d at the display of affection, wondering all the while what would happen to one whom the horse took a disliking.

‘We’ve work yet to do, my friend,’ Derufin said as he led the horse to a small pen near the cottage. Stay here for now until I can see to you.’ ‘Falmar acquiesced with a nod of her head, and began working on the tender shoots of grass and clover she found carpeting the enclosure. Tomlin and Fallon brought over a bucket for her, filled to the brim with clear, cold water from the well. And Gil, Derufin noted with a grin from his vantage point on the roof, sneaked over when he thought no one was looking and offered the grey beast an apple from his vest pocket.

The man and Hobbits returned to their work . . . and ‘Falmar was content to nicker loudly at them on occasion when she thought they needed the benefit of her opinion.

Witch_Queen

09-27-2004, 08:43 AM

"Fainu, if that is where my heart leads me I will gladly go with you." Cree smiled and tried to put back her own thoughts. She would follow Fainu any wheres. She remembered the friendship they had and hopefully will have. In the long run, I am the only reason he is still alive. I still wish I was with him the day his parents died. Perhaps then he wouldn't have lost so much. Cree blamed herself for so much of the trouble of her friends. Between solem lips she said, "Fainu, I am to blame for you not being with your parents and for you being the way you are. To think, if I was there that day perhaps my heart would have died with you."

She looked up and coudn't keep from shedding a single tear. The others seemed to be shy and didn't want to be seen. Cree blinked back the other tears and wipped away the lonely one. She had so much to be thankful for, yet she had so much that tore her apart on the inside. "Fainu, I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me the most. I'm sorry for everything. Most of all, I'm sorry for letting you have my heart." Cree turned to see the door open and Avalon fly in. The bird always seemed majestic to her. There is only three people I could ever trust, Avalon, myself, and Fainu. He always had my heart and he will forever keep it. I can not deny him what I have long since denied myself.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-27-2004, 10:12 AM

"Thou needs not to apologise," replied Fáinu, "there is nothing thou couldst have done to stop the evil things of that day. No one knew the dragon would come, no one knew what horror would be wrought. You are blameless." He meant the words, never had he blamed Cree for anything that happened that day, only himself... and the dragon.

Fáinu looked at Avalon the crow and smiled. The crow seemed content with itself and crowed happily. Some Hobits began to sing songs and dance, it was their custom and they all seemed happy. This was a complete contrast to the feeling that surrounded Cree and Fáinu. They had once again dug up their old memories and it had brought grief.

"Cree, you should be glad," said Fáinu, "That we both have our lives. To me, that says that we yet have something to do in this world, before the end of ends... before we must leave these shores. I am more delighted to see thee than perhaps it seems. For too long now have I wandered alone, seeking fore something that calls me."

He looked down at his mug and thought for a while. Cree was silent and seemed to be contemplating all he had said.

What will happen? Will you lead her to death? For thou knows what will happen if she follows you... fire, torment and death of a most unpleasant sort.

I cannot leave here to die a lone. She may have her crow, but I perceive that if I leave her alone, then she will fade in loneliness. And that may be worse.

Then you would gladly lead her to such an end? Thou art a fool!

Maybe, it is her will, and if she says she will follow me to death... then that perhaps is our fate.

"All choices seem ill," he mumbled under his breath, he knew she heard him, "Art thou sure? Cree, will you willingly follow me into peril? For that is all I see in my future, Elrond told me of it. That I am only to bring those I love to anguish... Do you wish for that fate? Am I, a mere elf of Rivendell, worth such hurt? Do you surly wish for such a fate? For I know that I do not and I know I cannot avoid it. But if you wish to come with me, I will not stop you... I merely warn you of what maybe to come."

Witch_Queen

09-27-2004, 11:36 AM

Cree placed her hand on top of Fainu's left hand. "Fainu, I will follow you to whatever end I may meet. I am not afraid as long as I have you by my side." Cree could feel her cheeks begin to burn. She knew she was blushing. For one moment she was trying to be serious, yet she couldn't. Deep down inside the child was wanting to come out. "Fainu, I have faced many perils without you and believe me I would rather face one hundred years of death than a day without you ." She knew she had faced a long time without him. Cree could feel him in her heart.

So that was it, Cree would go with Fainu. She didn't care if it meant she might die. The only thing she ever wanted was to be with Fainu. Cree could only wait now for the day she would depart from the Shire. She would miss what friends she had made. The one thing she wouldn't miss was all the bad memories.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-27-2004, 12:15 PM

They sat there in silence for a time. Fáinu stared in almost astonishment into Cree's eyes, he did not know what to say to her. She showed so much courage and faithfulness. the time he had spent alone had made him forget how much he longed for a companion, even his horse had run away on many occasions.

"For many years," he said, "my future has been dark to me, all I know is what Elrond told me. Ever since that black day, I have been alone. You have found a companion in your crow. Ask yourself this; would you have survived on your own without her? Would you have kept you mind?" he sighed and looked down at the table, "My only problem is that I do not know what I would do if I led you to death, I would ever blame myself. For Elrond said that one would be lead by me to death, and then I would again wander alone."

He looked up at Cree and saw that a tear was rolling down her cheek, Fáinu could do nothing. Nothing could he find to say to cheer her. All that came to mind were cold words that would perhaps harm their friendship.

"But If this is our fate," he said profoundly, "Then let us go to it unafraid. Even if all evil ever spawned comes for us, even if the fire of Hell scorched me, never shall I let thee be alone. Lest it is beyond my power."

Arry

09-27-2004, 02:03 PM

Andwise chuckled as Derufin returned to the ladder and started his climb back up to the roof. ‘New lady in your life?’ he asked, nodding toward the horse. ‘She the one who gave you the rosemary?’ Derufin laughed, shaking his head “no”. If anything, he’d told the Hobbit that one would have eaten the rosemary had she found it. The two exchanged a few remarks on what they hoped to get done that day; then, Derufin climbed quickly up the ladder and disappeared onto the roof.

As he finished up the cabinetry in the kitchen, Andwise could hear the man thumping about above him as he moved over each new section he has shingling. The swish and scrape of the tarring brush and long-handled trowel on the roof’s surface were periodically interrupted as the man knelt down to tap the wooden shingles securely into place.

The Hobbit was just finishing up putting the hardware on the cabinet doors in preparation for hanging them when he heard Derufin’s voice call down. ‘Would someone send up a sheaf of shingles?’ he asked. ‘I’ll send down a rope to tie them to.’ Andwise stepped out of the kitchen’s door and found a good-sized stack of the cedar shingles. He bound them securely with thick twine, then hauled them over to where the rope had been dropped. A quick tie-up, and Derufin was hauling the stack up to the roof. ‘My thanks!’ he heard the man call out.

Once the holes were drilled in the cabinet frames, Andwise began attaching the doors with flat-head screws. It was not work that required a great deal of thought, or attention. He fell to thinking about Ferdy and what Cook was going to speak with the lad about.

Well, Lily . . . perhaps I should have paid a bit more attention to this. he thought, conjuring up the sweet face of his dear departed wife. But I always relied on you to handle the more ‘sensitive’ parts of raising the boy. How’s a thick-headed old carpenter like me to know what needs saying? Why, I swear, if it hadn’t been for you letting me know quite plain you were interested, I’d probably still be a bachelor today.

Andwise finished hanging the last of the doors and went outside to enjoy a pipeful. The main door to the cottage would be next, and he wanted to settle his mind before he started drawing the design on it he intended to carve. He filled and lit his little clay pipe and sat contentedly on the small wooden bench beneath the Rowan tree. ‘Needs a bit of sanding,’ he thought to himself, running his hand over the surface of the seat. ‘And a bit of paint, too I think.’ He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and surveyed the progress on the cottage. ‘Be done, I think, in two days. The lads have done good work. And Mister Derufin’s a right good worker.’

He fell to wondering about the man . . . where he’d come from, what had brought him here. He was older than Zimzi, though they seemed well suited to each other from what he’d gleaned in conversation and in overheard gossip in the Inn. There was at times a certain sadness he saw briefly in the man’s face and there had been some talk he had fought in a far away place in the War. ‘Best leave those wonderings to yourself, Andwise,’ he could just hear Lily saying. ‘The day is new and brings fresh hope with it. Just wish him the best for what lies ahead.’ The Hobbit chuckled to himself and nodded his head at her counsel.

Pipe finished, he tapped out the ashes into the garden soil, making sure they were covered and well out. Rested, he took up his chalk from his tool box and began to sketch out the simple design he had planned for door.

Firefoot

09-27-2004, 07:09 PM

Lily looked up around the room and sighed. She was lonely and bored, for everyone around her was either deep in conversation or busy working on some task or another. She wanted something to do or someone to talk to, but nothing came to mind. She briefly considered going out to the stables to visit Clover, but a glance out the window showed that the people outside were just as busy as those inside; there were bound to be other people in the stable. Again the thought of home crossed her mind, and the idea that presented itself seemed so obvious she could not believe she had not thought of it before: she did not want to go home, but why not write a letter?

Her mind made up, she hurried upstairs to find some parchment and a pen. She found the items without any real difficulties and returned downstairs. She supposed it would be easier just to write it in her room but part of her still hoped that Posco might be coming back. A foolish hope, the sensible part of her mind said. He’s gone, and he won’t come back. Let him go. It didn’t feel any less painful though. Rather than dwell on it, she turned to the blank parchment staring up at her. She paused before starting, but once she began she wrote steadily until she neared the end. The parts about meeting Willow, Mira, and Daisy had been easy to write about, and she had written freely of meeting Bingo, Posco, Marcho, and Blanco. But how much to say about herself and Posco? After some careful thought, she continued:

I must tell you now about the relationship between Posco and myself. Though I have only met him recently, I know that I have fallen in love with him. We went on a splendid pony ride yesterday together, and I was given every indication that he shared my feelings. He is very shy, as I have mentioned, and since they were planning to leave for Buckland soon I knew I did not have much time with him. This is the part that puzzles me, for last night I told him I loved him, and he did not say much. I cannot tell if this is because he is shy, or because he does not actually love me. I do not know if they were returning to Buckland today or not; if they did and Posco does not come by the inn today, I will be leaving for home. I have entertained this thought a great deal already. If he does, however, return, I will likely be in the Shire for a few more weeks. You can take this as a sign for how things are going for me.

Your loving (confused) niece,

Lily

She folded the letter and placed it in her pocket; she would have to seal it later. She felt better after writing her thoughts down on paper. Now, she looked around for something to do or someone’s conversation to join. There would have to be something... if all else failed she would try outside.

Nurumaiel

09-27-2004, 07:29 PM

Posco sat by the stable door, plucking up bits of grass and twisting them in his hands, and he looked thoughtfully at the door of the Inn. By now Marcho and Bingo would be riding home and, yes, even Blanco, his own brother. Aunt Malva had insisted on Peony staying for a week or perhaps longer to help with the work, and Posco had seized this opportunity to stay closer to Lily. Yet he knew she would be going home soon, as well.

He did not know why he sat so close to the Inn, and so obviously in sight. He did not know what he would say if he met with Lily, and he did not know what he should do. Perhaps she would still be angry at him, for she had seemed rather angry the previous evening. He could not see why, or at least he had not been able to, until Blanco's fist had met his face. It seemed likely that Lily had been puzzled but his silence, but he could not have said yes, no matter how much his heart yearned for it. If she came out now and saw him, he would be as polite as he could be, and if she insisted upon his answer he would explain to her why it could not come.

He looked at the door for a few moments more, and then he got up and went around to the other side of the stable, where he could not be seen from the Inn.

Witch_Queen

09-28-2004, 06:38 AM

"Fainu, I am not afraid of what death my come upon me. I don't care what fate has planned for me. Just as long as I am with you when that day comes. The cursed must stay together." Cree laughed at the thought of curses. She didn't know why. For some reason it seemed almost impossible that her curse could become her blessing.

She could hear the hobbits of the inn already stirring about. It amazed her how much she had actually missed being around her own kind. Most of all she missed being around Fainu. She missed talking to him and most of all she just missed everything about him.

Hookbill the Goomba

09-28-2004, 11:59 AM

They sat there in silence. Both contemplating all that had been said. Fáinu's thought wandered to and fro. He ran over the events of the last day. It had brought on s many changes. First he had met Adu, and now Cree had come forth, it all seemed very convenient. At that moment he had a thought.

"Cree, have you seen aught of Adu and Hama?" he asked, "Did they leave and head off to Rohan? I had considered following her thither, but Dwaline told me that it may be dangerous for me there." he laughed a little, "As if to say the other direction he suggested was not more so."

Firefoot

09-28-2004, 02:30 PM

Lily decided that there was nothing going on of interest to her inside the Inn right now, so the logical place to look for something to do would be outside. She headed for the door, and once outside she could see why everyone was busy out there: it was the perfect sort of day to be outdoors. The sun was shining down from a blue sky on the lush land of the Shire. Everyone she could see was busy at work. She decided to walk around and see what was going on.

One hobbit that she saw was working in the garden; Lily thought that if she found nought else to do she might offer to help. As she began to walk down to the stables, it occured to her that she might be able to find the flower wreath she had dropped the previous night. If she was correct in her reasoning, it had fallen out when she had been climbing the tree. As she neared the stable, she saw that the people inside were busy (most of them Big Folk) so she passed up the opportunity to check on her pony. He was probably all right anyway.

She turned the corner of the barn and her gaze immediately swept to the ground near the tree. Sure enough, there it was. She took a few steps toward it before she realized she was not alone. It was just a feeling she had, and she looked up - there was Posco. The flowers were forgotten.

"You... you came back," she whispered. He was far enough away that she knew he could not have heard her. The corners of her mouth turned upwards in a hopeful smile and her heart sped faster. Could it be that he had come back for her?

"Good morning to you, Posco!" she called out. To herself, her voice sounded too loud.

"Good morning, Lily," he replied, walking toward her.

"It is," she agreed, "but why are you spending it back here?" As soon as the question left her mouth, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Oh why did her tongue and heart have to go aflutter at the sight of him? "I mean... you could have gone up to the Inn - I would have seen you there..." And her voice trailed off because she felt that she was just making it worse. What if he hadn't come back because of her after all? This wasn't going well at all, and unable to think of something to say to correct her thoughts, she fell silent.

Nurumaiel

09-28-2004, 06:13 PM

'Why am I spending it back here?' he repeated, and he smiled shyly. 'Well, my aunt lives close by and this is the only place I know where I can get away from her. I was sorry to leave Peony behind, of course, but Aunt Malva has always been rather partial to Hal and had nothing against him staying about, so my dear sister has protection.' He smiled at her again, and her cheeks turned rosy, and then he continued on at a rapid pace. He did not want to bring up memories of the previous evening in any way. He could hardly believe that Lily seemed so delighted to see him when he had felt quite confident that she would be very angry with him.

'As for staying out here rather than going into the Inn, I was not much in want of loud noise and much company. My aunt threw every insult she could at me, subtly hidden of course, but because of her comments I am very aware that my hair is tangled, my face is dirty, and that my britches are ripped at the knee. With such ongoing comments upon my appearance, and also my apparent unwillingness to assist her in the housework, I am not starving for company.' He smiled at her yet again, and her eyes began to dance. He was encouraged. 'Besides, Miss Lily, I was afraid you would be indoors, and I did not want to see you.'

Instantly the colour left her cheeks, and her light faded out of her eyes. She gazed up at him in shocked disappointment, and said nothing. He looked at her desperately, and then fixed his eyes at the tree behind her. A few moments past, and then he walked by her. She turned to follow his movements, struggling against tears. He strode to the tree, bent down and picked up the flowers, and, returning to her, presented them to her for the second time. 'I am afraid I always say the wrong thing,' he said. 'I must explain the reasoning for my rudeness, and also explain many other things. Is breakfast being served indoors?'

'Yes,' she said in a gasp, and she could manage no more.

'I suspect you were going to make sure your pony was all right. Please finish what you set out to do, and then come join me in the Common Room, where we will break our fast together. Is that very well with you?' She nodded, and releasing his hold on the flowers, spun on his heel and made his way towards the Inn. How foolish of him to speak his mind so! What he had said was true, but he had said it in a manner that gave her every reason to believe that he was avoiding her. He was, of course, but it was only because he had been afraid she was angry with him. Even when he was hiding from her, he was longing for her company. He must explain away his error, and he must have some little time alone while she was in the stables to think of how to explain his manner towards her the previous evening. It would not be an easy task.

Firefoot

09-28-2004, 08:34 PM

Lily gaped after Posco in hurt astonishment, her mouth working silently. She did not know whether she wanted to yell, cry, or kiss him. He had seemed pleased to see her, and yet he spoke up with an "I did not want to see you." If she had been confused before, then she was even more befuddled now. He walked off toward the Inn without a backward glance.

Lily looked down at the flowers she held in her hands and jerked them down upon her head in frustration. She stormed off in the opposite direction with a muttered, "Men!" It was something she had heard her aunt say, but she had never really understood it until now. So he expected she was going to check on her pony? Oh, she would, and then he would hear what she had to say! Luckily, Clover was stabled near the end of the shedrow so she did not have to interrupt those further down the aisle. As she had expected, he was bedded down with clean straw and had fresh hay to eat. At least this part of my life is running normally, she thought wryly.

With an absent pat on his nose she left Clover to his breakfast. Lily took her time getting up to the inn. (Let him wait.) She collected her thoughts as well as she could, most of which were a jumbled mix of "how could he", "what in Middle-earth does he mean by that", and "how did I fall in love with him...". She reached the inn door and shoved it open. She saw Posco sitting alone at a table, and went over to join him. He smiled slightly at her, but she was not about to be put off.

"Now you had better explain yourself to me, Posco Brandybuck, or I will be angry," she said, her eyes glittering dangerously. "Speak plainly!"

Witch_Queen

09-29-2004, 06:32 AM

Cree looked at Fáinu, she hadn't heard a word about Hama or Adu. As far as she knew they were still in the Shire. "Fáinu, I haven't heard from Adu or Hama since yesterday. I have no clue where they maybe." Her mind began to wander again. She knew that she needed a short leash on her mind but welcomed the chance of curiousity. Everything was still not making any sense to her. Why would Fáinu want to go to Rohan, unless for some reason he has "feelings" for Adu. She knew what the race of men were like. After all her old love Grimm was the only man she actually cared for besides Hama. She noticed that the look in Fáinu's eyes were not normal.

"Fáinu, you don't trust Hama, why?" She figured she caught him off guard. Nothing he could say now would suprise her. Cree had seen many things in her short life. She sat back in her seat and looked at Fáinu waiting for an answer she knew he would have to clarify.

Hama is a good man. Perhaps a better man than the King of man. Hama will not allow anything to harm Adu and won't hurt her himself. The only thing that Adu can't be protected from is herself. For we ourselves become our worse enemies. Looking ahead, after so many years, I have seen so many people become their own exicutioners.

Nurumaiel

09-29-2004, 11:47 AM

Posco's mouth fell open and he pushed himself away from Lily as far as he could, which was not far, for his chair confined him. Every ounce of shyness that she had dispelled over the past few days swelled up in him again, and he could not speak for it. No words came to his lips, only the fear that she was speaking too loudly and would be overheard, only the thought that she was frightening and imposing and so much of a stranger. Where was his gentle Lily, the one he had loved, the one who had born with him patiently through all his difficulties in speech when other girls would just walk away laughing? Unless they became angry with him, as Lily was now. This could not be Lily, this lass. Lily had always smiled encouragingly at him when his shyness and sometimes his honesty confused and entangled him, and now she was angry. He could not think of what to say to her, anymore than he could think of what to say to the Elf that was dining at the other table.

He reached up and pulled the brim of his cap down so his eyes were hid, and he studied the floor intently. 'Please, Miss Lily,' he said, and then he was lost. Please what? What was he to say to her? What did he want her to do? Calm herself? That would be foolish to ask. And he'd have to admit that she had made him frightened and shy, and she would be even angrier. He glanced up at her again, and her eyes were smouldering. There, all hopes were gone! He had returned to the Inn in hopes that she was not angry with him, and she had smiled at him kindly and spoken to him warmly. All deceiving him! She was angry at him. This could be nothing but anger.

He stood, abruptly, and his cap fell from his head. He grasped it as it tumbled to the ground, and he fumbled with it confusedly, looking everywhere but at her. His eyes fell on the table; he saw their breakfast had been served. 'Please, Miss Lily,' he said again, and this time he had a request to make of her, 'sit here and eat your breakfast. I must go outdoors and get some fresh air.' Now her eyes would be even angrier, certainly. She would hate him, surely. He did not look at her as he fled from the Common Room.

Outside the door he stood taking deep, shaking breaths. In the space of a few moments his own dear Lily, smiling and kind, had changed into a girl filled with anger, demanding for an explanation. Had he not promised to give her one? He could hardly speak now. And come to think of it, he could hardly breathe now. He put his hand on his chest and then immediately to his eyes, for to his annoyance he found them hot and stinging. Why was he so compelled to cry? She had not frightened him so very badly. No, she had not frightened him very badly, but she had scared all hope away. She was angry with him. She did not love him. He had feared as much. The moonlight had been playing tricks with her, and by it she had been compelled to confess love for him.

The tree that she had climbed the previous evening was not far; he staggered towards it as if he was drunk, rubbing frantically at his eyes with one hand and clutching his heaving chest with the other. It was so difficult to breathe! He felt as though someone had planted their fist in his stomach and knocked the air out of him. He must calm himself, or he would have no hope of either breathing or resisting his urge to weep. He climbed to a high branch in the tree, pressing himself against the trunk so he would have support, and also so he would be better shrouded by the green leaves.

So this was it! He had sacrificed his sanity by staying with Aunt Malva, and sacrificed his peace of mind by letting Blanco go off without him, and all to find that Lily was angry with him. Not only angry with him, but so angry as to speak in hot tones and act as though she cared nothing for him. Truly she did not. She could not. If she cared for him she would not shout at him so when she knew he was a timid sort of fellow.

A timid sort of fellow! Bitterness sprang into his heart. Well, it was no surprise she did not care for him, when he was so meek and shy. Didn't the lassies like to have strong hobbits who they could depend on a bit more? 'No doubt,' said Posco to himself, 'Lily would have preferred it if, when she had been shouting at me, I had stood imposingly over her with a stern, angry look in my eye, and then fallen upon her with passionate kisses, exclaiming on how beautiful she was when she was angry. Well, I don't do that, and the hobbits I've seen that have are fools who break the lass's heart the next day.' He swiped furiously at his eyes. The tears were leaving, and he could breathe steadier now.

'What would she want in a husband?' he demanded to himself. 'If she wants a hobbit who would love her in a quiet manner, one who will work to provide for her and her children, one who will defend the home with courage and strength if it is in danger, then she has me. If she wants a hobbit who would loudly proclaim his love for her through song and poem and passionate embraces, one who would care more for society and parties than the prospect of raising children, and one who would be rich enough to hire hobbit guards to defend the home rather than himself, well then! she can go home and search for such a hobbit, but she won't have him in me. If she wanted such a hobbit I would not marry her no matter how much she pleaded, for I would make her uncommonly unhappy.'

He paused, and reflected upon her angry manner and flashing eyes of only a few moments ago. 'She can't abide my trouble with talking,' he said, but this time directing his speech not to himself but to a little bird who had perched on the branch and was gazing at him with an inquisitive, rather nervous eye. 'I say things honestly, but I never can express them right for I'm not one for talking, and it always makes folk upset. If it upsets her, too, she might as well forget her little idea about marrying me, for I would be constantly offending and hurting her, without the least intention of doing so.'

His head fell wearily against the tree and his hands dropped, startling the little bird. He watched it flying away, and he sighed. 'My one hope of ever being happily married was that I would meet a girl who was gentle and quiet, but fun-loving too; a girl who would not speak very loudly because it startles me; a girl who would be patient enough to bear with my shyness and awkwardness; a girl who would encourage me with smiles and kindly looks. Lily seemed to be all of this, and I loved her. Now she is loud and angry, and impatient with me. But, confound it all!' he burst out passionately. 'I love her still!' And he looked miserably up at the sky.

Amanaduial the archer

09-29-2004, 01:57 PM

Aman couldn't breathe as her head whipped around to stare at Snaveling, her hand coming up short in front of the horse's muzzle and her breath catching in her throat. "You...you would..." she struggled for breath and looked back at the horse, the most beautiful of it's sort that she had ever seen and gaped at Snaveling in a most unladylike manner. "Snaveling, I couldn't possibly take such a gift."

"Why not?" he replied, simply. Aman gave a short laugh. "Snaveling, he is..."

"Please do."

Aman looked across at him, uncomprehending, puzzlement in her eyes, and also a little hurt. Snaveling, this isn't fair: why mislead me with such a gift when I know it is not me who you love...

"Amanaduial, you showed me kindness when no one was prepared to, not even Roa, even when you did not need to. You could have thrown me out or handed me over to the Shirriff of the Shire, or to the Bree council - but you did the opposite. You actually tried to understand me. No one has ever done that before!" Snaveling's emphatic words almost laughed and he smiled widely across at her.

"It was the king's gift to you..." she replied softly.

"Aye, and not the first or last, Aman. This...this horse, this magnificent creature, is the finest steed I have ridden, the finest steed almost anyone could ever claim to have ridden. Think, Aman," Snaveling's voice was honeyed and smooth, wonderfully persuasive. "the finest horse in the West, descended from the line of the Meeras. Given to you, by me."

Aman had forgotten how to breathe as her eyes lingered on the horse, then, trembling, reached towards it's face. The beast watched her sombrely, great dark eyes conveying more than human intelligence, before it reached forward and deigned to touch her hand. His fur was soft as silk on leather and when he snorted Aman felt the breath of the Lords of the West sigh across her fingers.

"Who could name such an animal..."

"You." Given to you, by me...By me...." Aman turned to look back at the Man as he leaned nonchalantly against the side of the stall, his arms folded across the fine material of his black shirt as he watched her, a tender half smile on his darksome features, cast as they were half in shadow. His eyes glittered mischieviously although the stables were not dark, and Aman saw every complex facet of Snaveling both simplified and amplified in that instant into one perfect being as she watched him. He smiled again, blinking and breaking the spell back to reality - but only slightly. "What do you say, Mistress Rohan," he drawled softly, using the name he had once called her. "Will you accept my gift?"

Aman didn't reply, watching him with a delighted secret smile on her impish features. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back slightly, trying to remember the song that nagged at the corner of her mind: the song Snaveling had once sung, in a happy moment months ago in the Inn. The words crept around her mind and she grasped a few, her voice strengthening from a hesitant hum to a pleasant murmur as she sang the familiar, old tune:

"A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever...."

Snaveling had straightened up as she sang, his face dawning with a thousand suns in recognition and he moved forward slightly, his lips moving in time with hers. As he came towards her, Aman's hand moved up to his face, and his inadvertantly did the same. Eyes closing slightly, Aman's head tipped on one side as Snaveling leant his face down towards hers...

The great whinny from behind made Aman leap and spin around to see 'Falmar speed out of the stable. A thousand ferocious mental curses flew after the horse - and after only a split-second's hesitation, so did Aman, her skirts held up about her as she pursued the mare. "'Falmar! Rochfalmar!" Her cries did little to mute the whirling of her thoughts, a mad flurry of hope and regret and panic at what had almost happened there, and always the song in the background.

And here by thee will I sing and sigh,
For ever and for ever...

Hookbill the Goomba

09-29-2004, 02:24 PM

"I know not," replied Fáinu, "Something about his seems queer to me. It is unsettling. But now, I am jumping to conclusions, many have their own business to attend to."

He sipped his ale and looked Cree in the eyes and smiled. Until now he had made not definite plans for the future. There was a lot of trouble in the north according to Dwaline, there would be much for Cree and himself to do there, rather than sit in an Inn all day.

"So, you are truly unafraid of whatever fate?" he said after a long silence, "Do you not feel that your strength would be better spent elsewhere? Do not think that I don't value our friendship, for I do very dearly. But I must know, what do you think is your fate?" he knew he could not answer to the question himself, but wished to know if Cree had any ideas,

"Do you thin your days shall be spent following me into peril? Me, a lonely wanderer and betrayer of kin and companions." Smaugs words were coming right out of his mouth, as if he now believed them more than ever.

Firefoot

09-29-2004, 05:03 PM

Lily was shocked that Posco had walked out on her again. Maybe he really didn't want to see her! But why, then, had he told her to meet him at the inn? Her first inclination was to go out and follow him to get everything straightened out right away. She even made a move to follow him, and then she realized that it would be exactly the wrong thing to do. He was shaken up, clearly, and would need time to regroup.

She tried to step back from the situation, see it from his point of view, and figure out what she had done wrong. He had been sitting up here, waiting for her, presumably. Then she had stormed into the common room and demanded... Lily stopped there, for she knew that was precisely her error. What had happened to encouraging him, being understanding? He was so shy, that of course he would freeze up and try to flee if she came at him angry. It was her own fault, and she knew it. It was that temper of hers... it could get mighty fierce, as she had shown Marcho their first night here. She wondered what Posco would have thought if he had seen her then. Most of the possible outcomes made her wince. An apology was in order, she knew. As soon as he was ready.

But wait. If she waited until he was ready, she might well wait until her dying day. No, she would have to go to him, but where had he gone? Surely he had not left? Lily feared it might well be so. She was no hungrier than she had been earlier, and abandoning all thoughts of waiting for Posco there she hurried outside. She did not intend to find him just yet, but she would not let him leave under her very nose. They would understand each other, Lily determined. She was relieved that the road was empty for a good stretch in either direction; he was still here somewhere. She sat down on the steps leading up to the Inn door to think and wait.

First of all, mused Lily, he must understand that I am not angry at him, and all I want is to talk things out. I will need to bring him back out of his shell, most likely. Trust is a precious thing to gain, and not easily regained once lost. If she had severed that, Lily knew that she would have a lot of ground to cover again. She wouldn't give up, though, because if he did love her, it would be all worth while. She could only hope that he did, for she had given her heart over to him, whether he knew it or not, and the thought of him leaving for ever wrenched inside of her. All seemed hopeless to her, but as surely as Lily had a temper, she had ambition to match, and she had set her goal for nothing less than marrying Posco. Did he not realize that she loved him, even after admitting it straight out? Patience, she told herself. She did not like being patient. Alas that perhaps the most important virtue she needed was the one she lacked!

Finally she could stand the waiting no longer. Lily got up and dusted herself off. She did not see Posco anywhere nearby, so she decided to head back to the stables. A glance inside showed her he was not there. On a hunch, she looked back around where she had found him earlier. She was sorely disappointed to find the space empty save for the tree she had climbed yesterday and a robin poking around in the ground for worms.

"Posco, where are you?" she said outloud, a tone of dispair in her voice. Maybe he had left, and she had missed him. With a sigh, she turned around to go back to the inn. He had said he would come back, or at least it had been implied. She would have to trust him.

Nurumaiel

09-29-2004, 06:00 PM

Posco heard Lily calling his name, and words sprang to his lips. He forced them away, closing his eyes, trying to pretend she was not there. Things were bad enough as they were; he would not make them even worse by seeing her again. It would be too risky. He might say something to make her even angrier. Yet, as he reflected upon it, he had not heard anger in her voice but worry and despair. Very well! He had known that girls were curious creatures, or at least his father always said so, but this was quite shocking. Was she repentant? Was she worried that he was angry? What was she? Maybe she was trying to fool him, trying to bring him out so she could speak angrily with him again.

This was too much!

Posco burst into laughter, and moved himself carefully along the branch until he was closer to the edge. Rustling the leaves loudly, he called softly down, 'Lily! I'm up here; come along up yourself!'

Firefoot

09-29-2004, 07:55 PM

Surprised, Lily turned around. She had spoken out of hopelessness, never actually expecting to be answered, and yet he had! She felt a sense of simple delight. He was at least willing to listen to her still; he must not have totally turned from her. She could only hope.

Lily took a bit more care hoisting herself up into the tree now that she was not alone. She gratefully took Posco's proffered hand for help in getting up to the higher branches, releasing it as soon as she was secure. She took a deep breath before speaking, trying to remember everything she had thought out so carefully only a few minutes before. It came to her in bits and pieces, but she plunged on, not caring overmuch that her speech was rather disjointed.

"Posco, I'm not angry with you, as I imagine you must think that I am. I was just a bit, er, flustered. Something I suppose you will find about me is that I do have a pretty bad temper, though I do try not to let it show," she added hastily seeing the apalled look on his face. "Please bear with me on that. So what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry if I ever made you think I was mad at you. I was confused, is all. And I still am." This last part was said very carefully but pointedly. She did not give him time to answer just yet, though. She still had more to say. "Another thing I should tell you is that I do not lie often, Posco. If I say something, I likely mean it. And I meant it when I told you that I loved you last night."

Witch_Queen

09-30-2004, 12:04 PM

"Fáinu, my fate is to die by your side. I do not fear what fate has instore for me. I fear nothing now that I have the only thing I sought out for. I left Eryn Lasgalen because there was nothing there for me, I left to find you. What makes you think that I won't lay my life down for you? You are not my kin and it has been long since I have been your companion. If you care anything about me then you will have nothing against me going with you." Fáinu's words had struck a nerve. Cree wouldn't spend the rest of her life running from her curse. She wasn't going to let Fáinu get rid of her so fast. She had finally found him and didn't want to loose him again.

How can he say he cares when all he wants to do is get rid of me. His words are poison to my heart. Why do I stay here and listen to him. He talks about a fate he's not sure of. Well may his curse bring him end. I will not abandon him when he needs someone. Cree's eyes told her every thought. "Fáinu, why won't you be content with me going with you. There is nothing you can do that may change my mind. I will not let you abandon me again and I won't abadon you again." She felt Avalon's eyes on her. The bird was staring at Cree and wasn't even blinking.

Avalon not you too. I will not be subject to such thoughts. I am going, if you choose to stay here then go right ahead, but I'm going. Not you or him can stop me. Cree returned the crow's looks before she broke out in a laugh. No matter how serious she was trying to be, Cree couldn't help but laugh at the bird and herself.

Nurumaiel

09-30-2004, 01:05 PM

'You do?' Posco gasped, and then he took Lily's hands in his and kissed them, his face flushed with wonder and delight. 'I am so very glad!' He hesitated for a moment then, and then he released her hands and sat more at ease. 'Lily, you have explained that you must explain, or at least all I would want of you, though I wanted nothing more than to know that you still loved me. Now it is my turn.' He sighed, and struggled with the thoughts in his mind. How was he to put this? How could he say it without offending her? Her eyes were shining; surely she would not be so easily offended!

'Lily, I must apologize for my seemingly cold behavior last evening,' he said, blushing as he spoke. 'I was raised by a father that had the highest standards of honour when it comes to a girl. I don't blame these high standards, but coupled with my awkwardness and shyness, it produces an awful effect. When you told me last night that you loved me, I replied that I thought it was nice. I did think it was nice, but I also thought it was glorious beyond belief. To learn that my dream had been shared by you... Perhaps it would have been the appropriate thing to tell you that I loved you and then kissed you right there, but it would only cause trouble for both of us. My parents would not look favourably upon it, for I would not have known you long. I do not know what your family would think about it, but it seems likely to me that they would wish to know me a little while before consenting to my marrying you. It doesn't seem right to marry you so soon after I had known you. We must seek consent from our guardians, we must go about things in a manner that will not draw attention -that is to say, we should wait until we've known one another a bit longer- and ridicule, and we must be absolutely sure it's the right thing to do. We wouldn't want to be married and regret it afterwards.

'It is a very difficult concept to explain, Lily. My father and mother met each other when they were still in their tweens, and it was love at first sight. However, being so young and so unacquainted, it wasn't consider proper for them to appear on very friendly terms. My mother hid her feelings amply, even from my father, and he made no move towards her until he was sure she loved him, and sure that he was really willing to spend all his life with her. Even then, he did not say a word to her on the matter until they were out of their tweens. By then they had known each other for some time and were quite confident that they were willing to spend their lifetimes with one another. Only then did he tell her his true feelings and ask her to marry him. Of course she said yes.

'He raised Blanco and I in the same manner. It is honourable and gallant, or that is what he said. You don't want to put a girl in a spot where she either has to refuse you or marry you and face all gossip because she is young, or because she has not known you for long, or some other such thing. And if she accepts, you'll have her in a situation where if she realizes she was simply immature and foolish she will be stuck as your wife for all time. Two or three days is not really enough time to be absolutely certain. I know girls that fall in and out of love, and only a fair amount of time could say if it's a love that will fall out or not.'

He stopped to take a breath and steady himself, for he was making one of the longest speeches he had ever made. At last he looked earnestly into her eyes and spoke the same way, saying, 'So, you see, Lily... or at least you see the point I am trying to make, even if I don't describe it right... You see, no matter what I feel for you, I can't say. Not yet, anyway.'

Hookbill the Goomba

10-01-2004, 01:41 AM

Fáinu looked up at her; he showed not fear or worry. He did not want to get rid of her, merely warn her against rash deeds.

"I know that you are faithful," he said, "Many a time hath you proved so, I simply sense a foreboding. I accept that you will go with me, but you must realise, that this is an unexpected turn of events."

He tried to get rid of the thoughts Smaug had planted in his mind and re gain his own sanity. He knew his cold words had struck a nerve, and he knew he should not have said such things. It was one more thing to regret.

"You never abandoned me, Cree," he said after a pause, "I never blamed you for aught that happened to me. Nay, ever my curses fall upon Smaug and all his kin." then his hand began to burn more then ever, but he flinched not. He clenched his hand and looked Cree in the eyes.

"You have known hurt, Cree," he said gravely, "Thou hast know deep wounds, you know what it is to wander in a nightmare world, haunted and cursed. More than any other in this world, I would have you accompany me to whatever end!"

For now, it seemed he had come back to his common thinking. Why those cold words had come before he knew not. Perhaps, the memory was burned into his mind, like the wound was burned into his hand.

starkat

10-01-2004, 08:45 AM

Gwenneth had not ridden far, before Elenath stumbled. After the stumble, the mare began limping so the elf maid returned to the inn. She entered the stables and began tending to her horse. Repeating a list of things that she needed, she went looking for the stable master.

She found him at a small cottage where several hobbits were working. The stable master noticed her and came over. Gwenneth asked him where to find the needed items and returned to her horse. She soaked Elenath's foot and then returned to the inn.

She walked up to the bar and ordered a glass of tea. Then looking around the room, she took a seat at an empty table.

Primrose Bolger

10-01-2004, 01:01 PM

The sun was climbing high into the sky as Ginger leaned on the handle of her hoe and surveyed her handiwork in the garden. The hills of potatoes were nicely padded now with straw and all the weeds between the rows had been pulled out and a nice little system of furrows made between to the plants to channel the water. As she’d gone along, she picked a basket of vegetables for the evening meal. Cook had been simmering some pieces of old hen in the large soup kettle, with a bouquet of herbs and a fat yellow onion. She’d asked Ginger to bring in a basket filled with taters, carrots, peas, snap beans, and parsnips. Ginger sighed, knowing that all these vegetables would need to be cleaned and diced for the soup.

As she glanced around the vegetable garden, she decided her work with it was done for the day. The herb garden was smaller and would take less time – weeds did not seem to spring up in it so readily for some reason. And then of course there were the flower plantings to be seen to, but that would be a task to her delight. Ginger loved working with flowers; they were so pretty, she thought, and delicate. And so delightful to smell. These last two bits of gardening would have to wait, she decided. She was a bit hungry, and thirsty for something other than well water. Ginger walked to the tool shed and put the hoe away, thinking now of a cool glass of tea and a nice sticky bun.

In through the kitchen door she went, careful to wipe her feet on the rug before she entered. The kitchen was empty for the moment, though down the cellar stairs she could hear the sound of hammering and the slightly off key whistling of various tunes. Lunch was laid out along the cupboard, waiting to be prepared a little later in the morning – hams and cheeses to be sliced for sandwiches, crisp lettuce from the garden early that morning draining in the colander in the sink, mustards, pickles, and there on racks, cookies cooling. Ginger sat her basket of vegetables by the sink, then nosed about for a stray sticky bun. A plate of them stood on the kitchen table covered with a clean cloth and she took two big fat ones on a bright blue plate she’d gotten from the cupboard.

Now all she needed was a cool glass of tea. Buttercup came in looking for a glass of teas for a customer. ‘Here,’ she said, handing two glasses of tea to Ginger. ‘Take this out to that table near the bar. The one where one of the Fair Folk is sitting by herself. Her name is Gwenneth.’ She saw the hesitant look on the Hobbit’s face. ‘Go on now! She won’t bite. And I have things to get done in here.’

Ginger rarely visited the Inn. Her knowledge of the Fair Folk was limited to stories from her Da how he’d seen them at times at night passing through the woods going west. They seemed rather magical to her from the stories, beautiful and tall and fair of face and graceful. She peeked through the kitchen door to see where the Elf was and a nervous giggle almost escaped her. Somehow the idea of bringing tea to one of the Fair Folk seemed strange. In her images of them built off the stories, she thought that they might be above eating and drinking, so to speak. Quite unlike Hobbits. But there one sat, waiting for tea . . . ordinary tea . . . just as she was having. Squaring her shoulders, she put on her best smile and went up to the lady Elf’s table.

‘Begging your pardon, Mistress . . . Gwenneth, is it. But here’s your tea, fresh made!’ Ginger held out her plate with the two sticky buns on it. ‘And I’d be happy as ever if you’d like to share these with me.’

Oh my, now you’ve gone and done it Ginger girl! Perhaps she wanted some time to herself! she thought, turning several shades of crimson at her boldness.

starkat

10-01-2004, 01:22 PM

Gwenneth had been feeling a little lonely ever since last night so when a hobbit came up to her with the tea she had ordered, the young elf maid smiled. A smell waifted up from the plate in the other's hands. Gwenneth gave her a friendly smile. "I would be glad if you would join me."

The youg elf woman fidled with the jewel hung around her neck as her new companion sat down. Gwenneth spoke first. "May I ask what your name is? Please tell me something about yourself."

Firefoot

10-01-2004, 04:20 PM

"Thank you. What you have said is everything I would have hoped for," said Lily. "And I think you are right about waiting a while. We have plenty of time." Lily was absolutely blissful. To think that he would love her too...! She gazed over at Posco. She wanted to kiss him, though she knew it would be better in the end if they went slow, and more pertinent at the moment was the fact that they were sitting on separate branches. Patience, again. She reckoned she would be the most patient hobbit in Middle-earth before all this was done with. Well, maybe not quite, she admitted.

"There is at least one big difference between us and your parents, though," said Lily seriously. It was not a pleasant prospect she was bringing up, but it had to be discussed. "We live many leagues apart. I will have to return to Bree eventually, until we were to get married, if that is the way things are to come. What will we do then?"

Primrose Bolger

10-01-2004, 06:07 PM

‘Ginger, ma’am. Ginger Gamwich. From Bywater. My Ma’s sent me down to help Miz Bunce for the week. Lots of things to be done for the big party. And like my Ma always says – Many hands make light work.’

The Hobbit took a gulp of her tea to wet her now dry throat. My goodness! Here I am talking to one of the Fair Folk! she thought sneaking a look at the Elf’s face. I wonder if I should call her ma’am? Truth be told she looks hardly older than me. But didn’t Da say they lived a long, long time and didn’t age like us other folk do? Ginger pushed back the stray red curls from her face and twitched her little freckled nose as she thought.

Curiosity overcame her. The Elf looked a little lonely, she thought, as she watched her sip her tea. ‘Pardon my asking, ma’am . . . and you can tell me to mind my own business if you want to . . . but what’s a young one like you doing so far from home? Are you heading to the Havens, like my Da told me about? Or are you meeting someone here?’ Ginger’s romantic inclinations had grabbed hold of her imagination – perhaps some handsome Elf lord was looking for her and would carry her away on some great horse . . . She sighed dreamily, and reined in her fantasy as she looked over at the Elf again.

‘Or maybe you’re here for the handfasting. Is that it? Do you know Mister Derufin and his lady. Have you come to help?’

She looked down at her hands and sighed. They were grubby, despite her washing of them, from her work in the garden. Embarrassed, she folded them in her lap. The Elf’s hands she noted were lovely, the fingers long and tapered. No garden dirt clung to the fingernails.

‘I’m nattering on too much, aren’t I?’ she said in a low voice, her cheeks a little red from the realization. ‘One of my many faults, or so my Ma says.’ She took another sip of her tea as she collected her wits about her, then smiled at Gwenneth. ‘I’ll be quiet for a bit, I promise. Go on now – you talk, and tell me about yourself.’

starkat

10-01-2004, 06:21 PM

Gwenneth listened as Ginger spoke. When her companion paused, the elf smiled. "First, please call me Gwenneth." Gwenneth became shy , "I actually come from my family's home near the Havens. I am traveling for awhile. The Shire is my first stop. I have only been here for a few days."

She noticed Ginger's dreamy look. "I am afraid that I am not meeting anyone, but the people I have met here at the inn have been wonderful. I have learned much through my conversations." Gwenneth pushed a loose strand of black hair back behind her ear. "Tell me more about the handfasting? Is that what you called it? Derufin is the stable master correct? I have a mare in the stables. I have seen him work with the horses. He seems nice."

The elf maid looked down at the table for a moment, slightly embarresed at all of her questions. "I would love to pitch in and help with this handfasting if I could. May I?"

Lalwendë

10-02-2004, 10:06 AM

Jinniver worked steadily at clearing the first of the borders all through the morning. She had made it her aim to finish weeding the borders and making them ready by the time evening came. With a little luck, the plants should arrive next day, and she was eager to make sure the borders were tilled and free of unsightly weeds. The work was doing her good, as she thought it might; she thought of little but the task at hand and whistled an aimless tune as she laboured.

As the morning went by, she found several little rose bushes which had been choked by the nettles and docks. She felt sure that even as she cleared the weeds away from them they began to stretch their heads up towards the sun; there were buds on some of them and she breathed in the faint but already heady scent hungrily. Jinniver had also uncovered some small foxglove seedlings, and transplanted them to the centre of the border where they would soon make a fine, tall centrepiece to the display as they grew taller.

Most of the border was now free of weeds, and just the few roses and foxglove seedlings remained. Jinniver decided to take a rest before she started to hoe the soil. Looking at her hands, she noticed they were covered in the black soil of The Shire and before she stopped to wipe them, she put her fingers up to her face and breathed in the scent of the earth. It was a rich and moist smell which she found comforting and she stood for a few minutes just breathing it in until she heard one of the hobbit lads in the cottage snorting with laughter. Turning around to see what the mirth was about, she saw he had been laughing at her strange behaviour and her face flushed red, all apart from the smut of black soil which remained on the tip of her nose.

The hobbit ducked back down from the window, equally embarrassed, and Jinniver scuttled off to the side of the inn where she sat down to smoke her pipe, unaware of the dirt on her nose and the twigs in her hair.

Primrose Bolger

10-03-2004, 11:44 AM

‘Handfasting is a Shire custom . . . Gwenneth.’ Ginger stumbled over the name slightly, hardly daring to believe she was talking to one of the Fair Folk. ‘I’m sure in other parts they’ve grander names, as my Gammer would say, for it. But it’s just a little ceremony where a man and woman give a pledge to each other to stick together . . . husband and goody-wife. Thick and thin and all that sort. And of course there’ll be babies coming along. Nice, chubby cheeked little ones to fill up the house.’ Gwenneth’s pretty brow was puckered a bit and she asked why did they call it ‘handfasting’.

‘Well, now, that’s the ceremony part, isn’t it,’ said Ginger, thinking about the word. ‘You see, their names get put down in the big book where all that gets recorded. But at the ceremony, the person who the couple’s asked to do their handfasting, well he or she comes forth once they make their pledges in front of the big crowd that’ll be gathered and ties their clasped hands together at the wrists . . . binds them together like . . . and they keep ‘em that way til they’ve danced the first dance together. Then the couple gets drinks raised to their new life and the party begins.’ Ginger’s eyes lit up at the prospect of the party as she explained it to Gwenneth. Music and food, drinks and dancing . . . and little lanterns lit in the trees when the sun goes down.

‘There’s lots to be done still,’ she told the Elf. ‘That’s why all us lasses have been sent to help.’ She eyed Gwenneth wondering what sort of work the Fair Folk do. ‘I’m helping out in the garden right now . . . still got the flower beds around the front porch of the Inn to do. That’s where we’ll have the party. Out there under the trees with tables all set up and a little band playing on the porch. It’s all got to look pretty. You could help me with that if you’ve a hand that’s good with flowers and such. Or . . . later on I’m going in to help Cook work on cookies and sweets for the party. Do you want to help there? What sorts of goodies do the Elves have when they are wedded . . . could you make some for Mister Derufin and his lady?’

Hookbill the Goomba

10-03-2004, 11:48 AM

Fáinu looked about the room. The silence was beginning to disturb him, Cree sat there staring into her mug. She seemed to be collecting her thoughts, although she seemed to be sad.

"Fáinu, you may think this an unexpected turn of fate," She said, "To me it is more so. I had only recently given up hope that you would be yet alive. Elrond said he did not think you were dead, but then other said that they had heard of the death of one named ifáinumen. I later found this to be a name carried by you. So, how much of a surprise do you think it is for me?"

Fáinu did not quite know how to react to this. Cree seemed to have yet another tear in her eye, she did not seemed to have been happy since she had found him. Fáinu tried to explain why she might have heard of his death.

"IFáinumen, the released one, is the name I took when I lodged with my brothers," he said, "When they threw me out one shot an arrow at me. I was hit in the shoulder from behind. I recovered; they perhaps thought I was dead. Or wished it. They were truly wicked. It seems their lies have done more harm than I thought."

He smiled at her and wiped her tears away with his handkerchief. He wished not for her to be saddened. He knew that since he departed form her, he had had brought hurt upon her. He wished to heal it, but knew he would only bring more in his attempts.

"Do not weep, Cree," he said once again," Thou hast shed more tears than are due. Be glad that thou hast found me alive, and not fallen into despair."

Arry

10-03-2004, 12:21 PM

‘Ferrin Muddyfoot!’

Derufin could hear the exasperation in the voice of Andwise. He moved to the edge of the roof to see what was happening. There was the older Hobbit, hands on hips, shaking his head at one of the lads. The others, Derufin could see, had gathered at a distance intending to chide their companion. Their words and mocking laughs and hoots died on their lips as Andwise threw them all a withering look.

‘Bad enough one of you,’ he said looking directly at Ferrin, then swiveling his head to take in Tomlin, Gil, and Fallon, ‘bad enough one of you has to show his poor manners to a newcomer to Bywater and a guest at the Inn. And one who’s volunteered from the goodness of her heart to help out.’ He tsk’d, in that certain way that parents have. ‘Now, Ferrin, I know your Ma will not be wanting to hear how you were rude to a guest at the Inn. And her a gardener herself. Sure touch with the hedge roses, your Ma.’ There was a slight cough as a snicker was cut off. ‘And you lads, you’ll be wanting to support your mate in this, I’m certain.’ He motioned them all to draw up nearer, then pointed to where Jinniver had gone to gather herself together and smoke a pipeful. ‘You’ll be wanting to tell her you meant no harm, I’m sure,’ he said with a considering look at Ferrin. ‘And you lot can go with him. You're almost done with the main part of your work on the extra room for the cottage, I can see. How about you ask if she’ll be needing any little fences or borders or window boxes built? Be glad to do that, won’t you?’

He nodded up to where Derufin looked on the little scene with interest. ‘Time’s wasting to get all these projects done. You lads go over and mend fences, so to speak with Mistress Jinniver. Almost time for second breakfasts, too, I think. See if you can help Mistress Buttercup with bringing over the basket of food and drinks once you’re done.’ The lads faces lit up in anticipation of this task.

Andwise watched the four walk slowly over to where Jinniver sat. Noting how the three pushed Ferrin forward first and then gathered in around her their hands gesturing toward the cottage, and her looking up to answer them. Good lads! he thought to himself, nodding his head affectionately at the little scene. I wonder how my Ferdy’s doing?

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention and he turned to see Derufin . . .

Envinyatar

10-03-2004, 04:55 PM

Derufin gave Andwise a clap on the back, smiling widely as he nodded toward where the four Hobbit lads could now be seen speaking with Jinniver. ‘Nicely done!’ he said. ‘I’ll have to stow that in my cap for when my sons act up a little bigger than their britches.’ Andwise looked up at him, a questioning look on his face. ‘When we have our sons, that is,’ Derufin said winking.

‘And what might be happening if all those sons you’re dreaming up turn out to be daughters, laddie?’ inquired the Hobbit, a grin on his face. ‘Tis not up to you, you know. It’s pot luck as far as that all goes!’

Laughter welled up from the man. ‘Oh, I think then my sweet Zimzi will have to take a firm hand with the girls if it’s needed. I’m afraid their Da will be silly as a goose around them, and think they can do no wrong.’

Andwise joined in the laughter. ‘Led by the nose, eh? With their dimpled smiles and big eyes . . . you think you’ll be lost, eh?’

Derufin’s face clouded for a moment, his grey eyes darkening. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Lost for certain.’

Andwise made no comment on this brief change in mood, instead he drew the man over to where he was working on the front door for the cottage. ‘What do you think of this, Derufin? I’ve just finished sketching out most of it, but I needed to ask a question or two before I finish it.’

Around the border of the oak door were drawn small, twining vines of ivy with sprigs of holly interspersed throughout. ‘Faithfulness, friendship, and happiness round the door to your house,’ the Hobbit said. Andwise traced his finger round the seashell with the smaller engraving of a five pointed star on it. It was drawn just slightly off center to the middle of the door. ‘Now Cook’s told me Mistress Zimzi’s from up north, by the sea, and she said she had it on good authority that her family traced itself back to those sailors who fled east when the Star Isle fell.’ Derufin nodded, saying it was so. ‘Her name is one of the old ones from that place,’ he confided to the Hobbit. ‘It’s Zimziran. Beloved Jewel, her mother told me.’

‘But what about you, Master Derufin? There’s not much known about you before you set foot here in Bywater. I heard when you were a much younger man, you fought for the King in the War. But beyond that . . . well you’re a fair cipher.’ Andwise pointed to the blank space next to the star. ‘What shall I put here . . . for you?’

Derufin was taken aback at the question, and sat down on an upturned bucket for a moment to think it over. There was one he’d told his whole story to, but she was far gone. The war, the good friends and neighbors he’d marched off with in youthful abandon . . . the little band who’d come back . . . and they to losses of their own. Derufin’s young wife and little toddling daughter killed by Orcs just before the brave few of Ringlo Vale had returned home. His son, born when he was away, dead, too . . . and only the charred foundations of their little house remaining, where the valley winds sifted through the ashes at night leaving only the fired bones. He could look at it now, after all these years, without a great feeling of empty despair threatening to undo him.

With a gesture toward a nearby bench, Derufin bade Andwise sit with him a moment. And with an economy of words, he spoke of where he’d come from and what had happened. ‘I’ve laid that part of my life aside. Worried it to the marrow for a long time,’ he spoke low, ‘and now I’ve made my peace with it.’ Derufin shook his head as he gazed to where the door lay on the trestles, waiting only to be finished. ‘I cannot think what you might put for me. But it cannot be that place from where I came. That sad, lost man’s gone, and I’ve come through to be here . . . right here. And my Zimzi at my side.’

piosenniel

10-03-2004, 08:58 PM

Cook ambled into the kitchen, smiling as she entered from the common room. The rest of the Inn was the province of Miz Aman, and to be quite honest could at time be a little quirkily chaotic. But, the kitchen was her domain and the neatness and orderliness that was its hallmark was once again in place. Second breakfast was being seen to by the servers – buns, muffins, and scones served up with pots of hot tea and good, sweet Shire honey. Lunch was laid out on the cupboard, waiting like obedient troops under her command to match off to do war against hunger. It was sandwiches today to be washed down with cold cider or ale and plenty of cookies to fill in the empty corners. Hobbits and others who ate at the Dragon had only themselves to blame if they went away hungry.

To her left was the big kettle, bubbling away on the hob with chicken and herbs. Soup, thick with meat and vegetables from the garden would be for supper tonight. That and thick slices of crusty bread with sweet cream butter. She stepped to the pot and gave the heady smelling broth a stir or two. She was just eyeing the basket of winesap apples the stableboy had brought in from the three old gnarled trees that grew west of the stable, considering if baked apples might do to round out the supper, when she heard the hammering begin down the stairs, in the kitchen cellar.

‘Vinca Bunce!’ she chided herself. ‘You’ve gone and left that poor boy down there for several hours. And here you promised him a little something as the morning wore on.’ Setting the stirring spoon on the lid of the soup kettle, Cook went down the stairs carefully, craning her head down to see where Ferdy had got off to. She was just on the next to the last step, looking round the post to her right, when her eyes caught the row of neat little bins, six of them in fact, all lined up together against the cellar wall. They each had lids that pulled up on hinges, and there was Ferdy at the very last one, hammering in the last nail that secured it to the wall. So intent was he on his business that he did not hear Cook come up near him, and lifting up one of the well fitting lids, exclaim. ‘My goodness, Ferdy! These are more than I had hoped for! You’re a genius, lad!’ He gave a gasp at the sudden intrusion and promptly dropped his hammer on his toes.

Ferdy hobbled up the stairs to the kitchen with the aid of Cook. She deposited him in a chair and got a piece of ice from the cooler to wrap in a clean towel and place on his toes. He protested that he was fine, really. But she fussed over him anyway, bringing him a cool mug of cider and a plate of warm scones with jam and whipped butter to make him feel better. Cook sat watching him eat the scones and poured him another cup of cider when the first was empty.

‘Feeling a little better?’ she asked, peering at his toes beneath the ice – they were purpling up from the bruising. Ferdy sat back and rubbed his stomach with a satisfied sigh, his foot all but forgotten. ‘Fine, thank you, Miz Bunce,’ he told her. ‘Give me a few moments, and I’ll be right enough to fix that cupboard door you talked about earlier.’

Cook sat down in a chair near the lad and poured him another bit of cider. ‘Oh leave the door for now, my dear,’ she said, causing him to frown a little. ‘There’s something else I’m wanting to speak to you about. Something else that’s needing mending.’ ‘Well, I’m all ears, Miz Bunce,’ he said a little hesitantly, wondering what project she had in mind for him next.

~*~

Ferdy’s mug of cider sat unnoticed on the table. Cook, without a great deal of preamble, had launched into a ‘serious’ talk with the young man. She’d talked with his Da, she told him and he’ll be wanting to talk to you, too, Ferdy, she said, when we’re done here. Quite confused by this time, Ferdy merely sat and nodded dumbly as Cook folded her hands on the table in front of her, and proceeded to tell him that a lass had come to her saying she was interested, quite interested in him and could Cook see her way to seeing if there were any way Ferdy might want to return her affections.

His eyes going wide at this revelation, Ferdy would have bolted for the door, save for two things. First, his Da had said he was to listen to Miz Bunce and take her counsel, and second, his foot was now throbbing where the hammer had mashed against his toes and he knew he could not outpace Miz Bunce owing to the pain. ‘A lass?’ he asked in a strangled voice. Oh my, how was he going to tell Cook he was interested in one girl only.

‘Yes,’ said Cook, ‘there’s a lass who’s got her eye on you but has had no indication from you might feel the same way.’

‘Her eye?’ Again the thought of those eyes he looked forward to seeing every week loomed up in his mind, and he shook his head emphatically at Cook. ‘I can’t be thinking about some lass and what she thinks of me,’ he said quite fervently. ‘I’ve got my own girl to be thinking about, Miz Bunce. I’ve no want to be thinking about someone else.’

Cook drew back, surprised at the vehemence with which he expressed himself. ‘I see,’ she said, leaning back in her chair. ‘Poor lass! She’ll be mighty disappointed. Ah well, what’s done can’t be undone, I suppose.’

‘Let her down easy, but be firm, if you will,’ said Ferdy. ‘I’ve had my eye on my own girl for a long, long time. I don’t think I’ll be changing my mind at all.’

‘Well, well,’ murmured Cook, looking with interest at Ferdy. ‘I’ll be as gentle as I can. But, tell me – who is this lucky lass you’ve kept hidden so long from us – your Da included.’

Ferdy colored a bit and whispered a name. ‘Sorry but you’ll have to speak up,’ Cook said. ‘These old ears can’t hear as well as they used to.’ She leaned forward, looking at him expectantly . . .

starkat

10-04-2004, 09:31 AM

As Ginger described the ceremony, Gwenneth smiled. It sounds wonderful. When Ginger asked if she knew anything about her people’s wedding customs, Gwenneth blushed. “I am afraid that I do not know. My interests have always been with horses. When my brother got married I was very young and I do not remember the ceremony.”

The young elf woman looked up at Ginger. “I may not be one for cooking, but I do enjoy working outdoors and I am good at following directions. At home, I help my mother with her flower garden. She also lets me use the flowers to decorate our home.” She looked down at her hands a little embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.

Witch_Queen

10-04-2004, 11:46 AM

"I know I have not lost you but deep down inside I have already lost you. According to you, there is no way you can ever show emotions. That in itself is sad. Right now I am a mental case. I do not know whether to be happy or sad." Cree forced back the rest of her tears. She had her friend there with her. She didn't need anything else. Her wishes had come true.

"Fáinu, you know in a few days I will be another year older than last year. It seems like one of my wishes has come true." Cree didn't know what her knew wish would be. She could now have anything in the world. The only thing her heart desired was to have Fáinu forever.

Hookbill the Goomba

10-04-2004, 01:00 PM

"Think that thou art blessed," Fáinu replied, "Many will go a life age of the world and have no wish granted. If your wish is to be with me, I will not deny you this." he could say little else in response. His mind was wandering back and forth, thought of his past with Cree became clearer to him, and he began to wonder why he decided to go away, and leave her behind. He knew now there was no way he could do this, even if he wanted to. But he did not want to leave her again, it would break her heart, and his.

"Cree, what hast though dunst?" he asked, Cree looked puzzled, "Did you spend all this time searching for me? Or did you have other business? For I have thought to have seen visions of you in my dreams, wandering over mountains, searching for something, but calling a name that was not mine. Sometimes it was Morhên, forgotten child, Gathdring, Shadow hammer. Know you of these names?"

This dream he had first had two years ago, when he slept in the wilderness and wished most to see Cree again. However, he had thought that his old life was dead and he would never again see any he had loved and known from then.

Nurumaiel

10-04-2004, 01:41 PM

'Why, Lily,' said Posco, rather surprised at her question, 'there will be nothing for you to do but come home with me, if we get married. What else could you do?'

'But what about the meantime? How will we see each other?'

'Oh,' said Posco, and he put his back to the trunk of the tree and gazed thoughtfully down at her. A soft breeze rustled the leaves and the tree branches gently rose and full, brushing against her face and catching her hair. The bright sun made her cheeks rosy, and the quavering shadows of the leaves danced over her features. Her eyes were sparkling with joy, and her red lips were turned up in a smile. Posco leaned forward, and said, 'Lily, I have something: when you leave you can come to my home for a time to visit, so my parents can meet you and all those necessary things. My mother would delight in taking care of you, and you would love my home. It has trees, and hills, and the Brandywine isn't far away at all. When nighttime comes you hear the crickets chirping, and then a fiddle will be taken out and we dance by the fire, and late in the night everyone goes a-bed. When morning comes each and every bird sings, and we go down to the Brandywine to fish, or just to sit amid the wildflowers and watch the water flow by. Oh, Lily, you'd love it so very much.'

Lalwendë

10-04-2004, 01:57 PM

The hobbit lads came over slowly with uncertain steps and Jinniver too felt a little foolish and pretended to be busy fixing an imaginary chip in her pipe at first. The lads pushed Ferrin forwards and he coughed so that she had to look up. Her face was still red, if not even more so. But the lads were kind enough not to comment on the unseen soil smudged on her nose.

“We um…we come to ask you if there’s anything you need doing like. Um, you know, anything that needs building or fixing for the garden?” Ferrin stumbled over his words and gave Jinniver a hopeful smile.

She felt relief, and out of the corner of her eye, she spied Andwise on the roof, watching. “He must have got them to make amends,” she thought to herself, which made her a little more nervous. She wasn’t sure what to say about the offer, and had to think for a moment if there was anything she needed doing. “I wouldn’t mind if you could get me some old logs and make a border,” she asked Ferrin, who looked a little confused “How do you mean, miss? You’ll have to show me what you want by that.”

Jinniver stood up and walked to the borders and the hobbit lads followed her, apart from one, who had gone to help fetch the second breakfast. The smell of freshly brewed tea and warm scones wafted all the way across from the kitchen as he opened the door, and several stomachs, large and small, rumbled all at once.

The border she had worked on that morning was now clear of weeds, but the raw edges met the grass and Jinniver could see it would benefit from being made neat and tidy, at least until the plants she was going to put in were more mature. She had an idea for an edging made from old logs cut into short pieces; each small segment would be cut in half, and then they would be laid along the border, making a scalloped edge. This would, she thought, give the flower beds a neat shape, and the plants could trail around and over the logs as time went on.

She explained her idea to Ferrin and his pals, who stuck out their bottom lips and nodded in agreement. It was not a big job at all, the only snag was where they would find some old logs.

“ I’ve found just the thing, if you can help me”, said Jinniver, moving to the back of one of the borders where a tree stump laid half-covered by earth. “It’s long dead, and the roots go down a long way. They’ll provide some useful timber for this, I’m sure.”

Ferrin shook his head “But how are we going to get that great brute out of the ground? It’s stuck fast as far as I can see. Been there a long time and it doesn’t look like it wants to go anywhere now”.

Jinniver had thought of this. “I can get my horse and harness him to the stump, and he can pull it out, he’s strong. Only thing is, I would need some help. Either to make sure the rope stays on while I’m doing it, or to guide Nutkin, to guide my horse. I can’t do both at once, you see.”

The hobbits all nodded when they saw how it could be done. “Let’s try right now! And then for some tea and cake,” said Ferrin, heading towards the paddock.

Gorothlammothiel

10-04-2004, 04:17 PM

Soronume had been absent from the Shire for some time now yet it's paths felt so familiar under his feet, he could walk it's lands in the darkest of nights and find his way back to the Green Dragon's warmth without hesitation. With the inn in his sights up ahead, Soronume questionned as to why he decided to leave the place that always welcomed him with open arms at all.

Stones shifted under his boots as he trod, creating that unique sound that only ever presented itself when you knew you weren't far from resting, at least, that was the only time at which Soronume noticed it. He turned to see his path behind. Not prints in the ground as they weren't disernable as definate markings, more just disturbed earth where he had walked. He smiled. It was nice to be back in familiar surroundings.

As usual, Soronume stopped short of the Inn. His appearance was never as it should be for such a fine place, but this time it was further from acceptable than it should have been. His dark tunic was soiled, but a light dusting improved that to some degree, which was more than could be done about the state of his cloak. Tears were perhaps more common place on it than the fibres it was originally woven from. It's green colour almost disguised entirely behind various other stains which had accumulated during his travels. His boots alone showing the distance he had covered of late.

Under his hood, Soronume's piercing grey eyes could clearly be seen, and wisps of dark hair fell about his face from the hood that cast many of his features into shadow. His face though was not a unwelcoming one, his smile was full of warmth even though his expressions may be troubled. He smiled to himself again as he made way to the door. Pushing it aside he stepped into the inn, bowing his head slightly as he passed through.

Only a few heads turned around the inn at his entrance and even they promptly went back to their own business. Soronume headed towards the bar in the hope of something to quench his thirst and a friendly face for company...

Firefoot

10-04-2004, 07:56 PM

Lily listened raptly to Posco's brief discription of his home. In many ways it was very different from Bree, and they appealed to her. In town, it was fairly noisy, and there were people all over the place, both Big and Little. Instead of crickets, nighttime noises consisted of shouts in the street or the clip-clop of hooves on the stone roads.

"Your home sounds lovely," said Lily. "Please, tell me more about it." She looked up into his eyes and saw a reflection of her own feelings therein: peace and happiness, and love. The things that she had always treasured most, those simple things, and she found them here with Posco. Hearing about his farm made her enjoy the Shire even more, and she knew that she would love making it her home with Posco when that time would come.

Witch_Queen

10-05-2004, 06:36 AM

Cree couldn't believe it, she finally had what she wanted. "Fáinu, I have spent many years searching for you. I knew that you couldn't be dead. There was a feeling in my heart telling me you was alive. After the death of my father and your mysterious dissapearance I felt alone. I didn't know what else to do. So I wandered around Middle Earth looking for you or the missing piece of my puzzle."

Cree figured that Fáinu wasn't going to leave her again. Without any warning Cree's eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her eyelids closed and her body went limp. Cree knew waht was happening, her episodes were back to normal. Despite her appearance of being dead Cree could still hear Fáinu.

Avalon turned to look at the male elf beside her. The crows eyes told everything. No matter how hard she tried, Avalon knew Fáinu couldn't understand her. Staring into his eyes she suddenly saw a glimmer of hope.

Fáinu, this is your friend's curse. For Cree there is no escape. No one can save her. She ahs her actual parents to thank for that. You must be there for her in this her time of need. Even I dont' know if this spell she will survive.

Avalon hopped over to the pack Cree carried. With her beak, Avalon pulled out a piece of parchment. The white crow began unravelling the piece of writing covered parchment. Out of all the symbols the only word taht could be made out was his own name, Fáinu.

Hookbill the Goomba

10-05-2004, 11:01 AM

Fáinu looked at the parchment, he recognised his own name and none of the other words. He realised it was written in enchain Quenya, sudenly he remembered something Elrond had said. When he first returned to Rivendell after the incident with Smaug, before he even opened his mouth, Elrond chanted these words;

i fáinu men, falócë rohta, elyë inde firin. Umbar valin elin mén. Utú i quácocolindo! Utú i quácocolindo!

The released one, cursed by the dragon. Fate smiles upon thee. Find the crow bearer! Find the crow bearer!

Now it seemed to all make sense. Cree was the crow bearer. He saw her, she looked to be asleep. He shook her and she did nought. He called to her and her eyes opened a little, she smiled and fell back to sleep. He had seen others fall into a trance of this sort before. He remembered how he had woken a friend the last time.

He drew Falokrist from its sheath and the blade rang. A few hobbits looked over in curiosity.

"Forgive me Cree," he took the blade and made a small cut on her hand. Instantly she leaped up, dew a blade and swung it. Luckily, Fáinu stopped her sword with his. She then dropped her blade to the ground and sat back down. Fáinu sheathed his sword and held Cree's hand.

"What happened to you?" he asked, "Where did you get this parchment? What-" he stopped and looked her in the eyes. Avalon flew up and landed upon Cree's shoulder holding a bandage from Cree's pack. Fáinu rapped it about her hand and looked her in the eyes.

Witch_Queen

10-05-2004, 12:00 PM

"You ask where I got this and what happened to me. I tell you only what I know. Fáinu, one day while I was in Rivendell searching for you or any sign of you, I found it. For some reason the parchment seemed lonely. There was no sign of anyone around. So I simply placed the parchment in my back pack. Now as for what happened to me, if is but a constant reminder that my time is limited." The cut on her hand was stinging a little but Cree didn't mind the pain.

Cree turned her head. She wasn't much for staring someone down. It didn't seem like her. "Fáinu, this is how I knew what to call you. Plus the dream I had the night before I returned to the inn. My last night sleeping under the trees and of all the things your name and face appear in my sleep. My friend what sort of magic is this I have encountered. It wasn't even two days ago I was thinking about you and then I arrive here to see your face. I only have one thing to say, destiny is playing an evil trick on my heart." Her breathing seemed lighter and her eyes more alert.

She looked at her hand and finally realized that the cut Fáinu had made was on her right hand. "Indeed this is some trick. Your right hand is scarred for life while my own right hand is merely scratched." She closed her mouth and went back to remembering their past. "Fáinu, I don't remember you being so skilled with the sword." She let out a little smirk.

Avalon what would I do without you. You are my friend. Yet I know it is thanks to you that I have found my one true friend. Fáinu, you are my heart and soul. Without you I don't think I could make it. You saved my life once, and I have it in my mind to save your's some day. Lets just hope I will not fail you like I have everyone else. Cree knew that she had said her thoughts out loud. Now she regretted it all. "Fáinu, I would give you my heart if you only asked for it."

Gelmir

10-05-2004, 12:25 PM

Gelmir:

When all was quiet, and the hobbits were sufficiently drunk, Gelmir saw his time right to enter the inn. His bright eyes glittered in the early morning light and he smiled and pushed the door open. His green cape blended into the green grass of his surroundings while he was outside. As he stepped over to the bar, he looked at all the different people who were talking casually or mumbling slurring sentences to each other.

There were two elves at a table in a corner, a small hobbit sitting by the fire and several hobbits rushing around in the kitchen. One Hobbit stopped him and said;

“Where is the land of many food?” he was obviously drunk,

“I know not, kind sir,” answered Gelmir, “I cannot say I have heard of it.”

“Well, tell me when you taste it.” Then he stumbled around and hit the wall and fell down.

“ Hello, I’m Gelmir, I am the great-great nephew of Gelmir of Nargothrond, brother of Gwindor. I am here to seek Ale!” he found some at the bar and came back to the drunken Hobbit who was calling him.

“Why don’t you find me a pint?”
“Here, take mine,” said Gelmir, “I am not that thirsty.” The drunken Hobbit took it gladly and drank it.

“Any way, as I was saying, I also want to try and fit in with the crowd.” He explained, “Some may dislike me, others may not, but if any one wants to on a quest with me just tell me when to go and I’ll join your Party, if you ask kindly.” The old hobbit looked at Gelmir in confusion. Gelmir had a wide grin on his face. He loved to jest like so.
“Of course most of you are.” He mused, “I have come from Lorien and I am the eldest of my generation, I have two brothers, Gilgond and Gaerglín, they are only young.”

Gelmir went to sit down next to the fire when it seemed like the old Hobbit was about to throw up. He felt it would be polite to leave him to his business.

“ahh”, He whispered.

Hookbill the Goomba

10-05-2004, 12:51 PM

Fáinu smirked when she mentioned his skill with a blade. He had learned to be quick while he rode forth with Ellodan and Elrohir. His mind had been filled with dark forebodings for too long now, it had seemed that Cree had put them at bay for a time.

"Fáinu, I would give you my heart if you only asked for it." said Cree leaning forward. Fáinu looked up at her and his face was grim.

"I cannot ask this of thee," he said, "I do not feel that I deserve it. I left you in Dale, I abandoned all, and they me. I feel, that all I have now is a destny to follow, and a will to use what wisdom I have, to for fill it." Cree began to weep; he knew that what he had said was not what she wished to hear. But he could not lie to her, not now after all that had happened.

"I am sorry Cree," he said, "Thou hath come hither, and found whom you sought. But I now see what Elrond meant in his words;

fáinu men, falócë rohta, elyë inde firin. Umbar valin elin mén. Utú i quácocolindo! Utú i quácocolindo!

Thou art the Crow bearer. But Elrond told me that if I found you, then I would know that an end is near. This dose not make me any less joyful to see you. For in my heart, I still love thee, but I cannot ask of you what you desire. I fear it would break our friendship, and I wish not for that."

Lalwendë

10-05-2004, 01:58 PM

Jinniver attached a sturdy rope to Nutkin’s harness and pulled at the knots to make sure they would not come undone. Ferrin and the other hobbit lads had tied the other end of the rope around the tree stump and had shovelled some of the soil out from around it. They stood behind the stump, ready to guide it out of the ground when the horse pulled away.

There was a moment’s silence as Jinniver patted her horse and started to beckon him forwards. With each step the rope became less slack, until it was taught and the horse started to feel the weight behind him. Jinniver spoke reassuringly to him and urged him on, and the hobbits pushed on the tree stump in a vain attempt to help the horse shift it. The stump was too heavy for several men to move, let alone a group of hobbit lads. The heavy horse should have been able to move it without any difficulties, and yet nothing happened. Nutkin shook his head in annoyance and refused to move any further; the load was too unyielding for him.

He snorted and instead turned his attention to some sweet smelling grass growing underneath the bushes nearby. Jinniver gave a great sigh and went across to the flower bed to see what the problem might be. Stooping down low to the side of the stump, she saw that a particularly thick root was still buried in the soil.

“Look, we missed this one,” she said to the hobbits. “See how thick it is just above the soil, it must be incredibly long. We’ll have to dig some more.” Taking up a shovel, she started the job, working quickly. Soil flew off the shovel into the air behind her, landing on Ferrin’s feet.

“Now don’t be burying me,” he said boldly, but with a laugh in his voice. He took up a shovel and started to dig. “Let us help and you won’t have to work so fast. Why, we aren’t going after treasure here.”

Jinniver’s pace slackened a little, but the soil was moved swiftly with more than one pair of hands to do the work. The root was indeed long, and a small trench appeared in the border before it had all been uncovered. They stood a moment, leaning across the stump, looking at the gnarly, tough remains of the old tree, feeling satisfied with their work. The silence was broken by Ferrin. “Well, I would say that was the root of the problem.”

This provoked groans and cries from the other hobbits, and Jinniver shook her head, laughing. “I’ll go back to Nutkin and get him moving then, and leave you to your terrible jokes.” But before she had moved, an unearthly screeching noise suddenly erupted from the bushes near the horse, who added to the racket by whinnying in fright. He jumped up when a whirlwind of leaves streaked out of the bushes. Two cats, shrieking at one another in anger, raced from the undergrowth, locked in a fight. The old horse only saw an eight-legged creature, all teeth and fur, and with a neigh, he bolted forwards to get out of the way.

Before Jinniver and the hobbits could do anything, the stump was heaved out of the earth with a great jolt and dragged out onto the grass, leaving them face down in the dirt. “Owww!” yelled Ferrin. “Hmph!” was all Jinniver could say; she had fallen further than any of them and her mouth was full of soil. She turned her head and pushed herself up onto her knees, then, resigned to the fact that she was covered in muck, sat back down with a snort of laughter. Ferrin plucked an earthworm from Jinniver’s hair. Wiping soil from their faces and rubbing their sore elbows, the hobbits erupted too.

They all stayed where they were, laughing until they cried, only moving when the second breakfast appeared. Shaking the dirt from their clothes, they headed for the well where a bucket of water was passed around to wash their dirty hands and faces.

Envinyatar

10-05-2004, 03:31 PM

‘Well, don’t you all make a pretty picture!’

Tomlin and Fallon scrambled to their feet, hastily wiping their dirt smudged faces on the sleeves of their shirts. There stood Buttercup, hands on hips surveying the outcome of their mighty efforts. Next to her, and just a little behind, was Gil, a pleased look on his face. From his hand swung the basket of food Cook had sent. Ferrin, by this time, had gotten up and offering a hand to Jinniver, had helped her to her feet. Gil raised his brows at the sight of the four of them; then looking quickly at Buttercup and back to the other Hobbits let a smirking grin turn up the corners of his mouth.

The four stump conquerors tramped off to the bucket of water Andwise had brought from the well, and began to wash up as best they could. Derufin, too, had come down from the roof, laughing as he approached the Hobbits and woman at their ablutions. ‘That was quite the site!’ he chuckled. ‘Poor horse looked scared to death when the cats rolled by.’ ‘Hadn’t been for the stump attached to him,’ said Andwise, ‘we’d have to have been chasing him down the road back to Bree, I think.’

While the dirt was being scrubbed off, Derufin led Nutkin to the small fenced in area where ‘Falmar rambled, chomping at clumps of grass and swatting at the flies, her tail making lazy sweeps across her back. She stamped once as Nutkin was led in, then, sniffing the horse’s muzzle, nickered at him in a seeming welcome.

Washed and dried, Fallon, Ferrin, and Tomlin spread out the blanket Gil had tucked under one arm and set the basket of food in the middle of it. Scones and sweet buns were handed round as Buttercup poured them all mugs of cold cider from the stoppered ewer or tea, as they wished, from the cosied pot. She smiled prettily at each of them as she gave them their mugs, and the lads responded in kind. It was only after she’d left that one would jostle the other saying her gaze was on him longest, didn’t you know. And did you see how she winked as she left for the Inn?

Andwise and Derufin sat a little ways away from the lads, beneath the shade of the Rowan tree. Jinniver had come to join them. ‘There’s some bigger saw horses there in my wagon,’ Andwise offered. ‘Just have to nail them together. Thought you might want to use hem if you’re going to buck that stump.’ Derufin chimed in saying there was a splitting maul in the stable and one of the heavier saws hanging above the worktable. ‘Just what are you planning on doing with it?’ Andwise asked, eyeing the huge chunk of wood.

‘Whatever it is, it’s going to look nice, Jinniver,’ Derufin said with a satisfied sigh at how the little place was coming together. Looking to where she had cleared the beds and turned up the soil, he smiled at her. ‘Zimzi will love it, as will I.’ Andwise was about to remark how he might like a small slab of it, if it could be spared, when a familiar voice called out his name.

‘Da! We’re needing to talk . . . now . . .’

Witch_Queen

10-06-2004, 09:20 AM

What was left of Cree's heart broke. She didn't know what to think any more. "Fáinu, perhaps the ending you are talking about is the ending to your curse. For Elrond's son told me to seek the cursed one and in him I would find relief. I know no other cursed person but you, if I shall be the ending to your life then what does this mean to me." Despite her attempts she couldn't keep the anger at bay any longer. Her side began to hurt even more. Cree didn't know what to think anymore.

"Fáinu, what do I do now? Do I just let you believe that I am your end? Or do I do something about it? I am lost to the rest of the world now. Seriously how can you be so friendly and cold hearted at the same time. How can you live with yourself? I now regret even coming back to The Shire. If I had known that you would have been here then I would have stayed with the parents I never knew. I curse the day you came back." Cree stood up and ran out of the inn. She left her pack and Avalon behind. She didn't care anymore about her life.

Cree walked to the stable. Her horse was in the corner eating what looked like hay. Cree unsheathed her sword and placed it on the straw beside her horse. Setting down in the straw she began to trace through her previous memories. Cree without realizing it began to regret her words. Cree was never really good with anger. She remembered the last one she was angry at ended up dead. Her father had told her not to go after Fáinu. Even through her tears Cree still hated her father for what he did to her.

"Father, if you would have never died then perhaps I would not had left home. I am now in a bigger mess. I don't know what to do. Fáinu is alive and yet even now I still have feelings for him. To me the past is dead. You and my old friend Fáinu is dead. After all how can I love someone that will never love me back. " Cree had a feeling that someone was listening to her. Standing up with her sword in her left hand Cree looked to see that Avalon was perched on one of the beams holding the roof on. "Avalon, did you come alone or is he with you."

The crow turned her head as Cree spoke her words. Cree listened as the bird screeched its protest. "Avalon what do you know of love. You are a bird, alone just like me." Cree heard someone move outside the stables and knew who it was. "Fáinu, I know you are out there come on in. I won't hurt you. I can't hurt you, unlike myself. Everytime I talk to you I am only hurt in the end."

Hookbill the Goomba

10-06-2004, 11:38 AM

Stepping into the stable Fáinu went over to Cree. As she spoke to him, he made no signs, only looked at her, and regretted his words.

"It is not my intent," said Fáinu, "Cree, thou knows that I cannot lie to thee, therefore, can you expect nothing else than my honest answer. If it is not what your heart wishes to hear, then I am truly sorry." He handed her the pack she had left in the common room, Avalon flew down and perched on Crees shoulder.

"I never believed that you would be the cause of any end I would come to," he said eventually, "Elronds words suggested to me, that thou art a sign that AN end approaches. However, to what he would not say. My heart wishes it to be an end to my curse, and to my lonely wanderings. Or perhaps, to life in Middle Earth this suggest that perhaps, one day we shall travel to Aman together."

Cree looked at Avalon, who seemed troubled. She sensed that something was not right with Cree, and so squawked quietly. Cree shook her head and smiled.

"Do you see this?" said Fáinu holding up his sword, "This has been my only companion for many-a days and years. I have not spent much time among our folk, save with the elves of my Brother's house. look closely here." he held out the hilt towards her, and she saw that her name was written in Dwarvish, quwenya, sindarin and all the tongs of Arda (Save entish). Above this was written: Fáinu, whom it was, that failed to defend kin, wishes but to see thee;

"Ever I have wished to see you Cree," he said, "But I did not think that I would. I thought you dead for a time. For a Goblin stole my sword once, and told me that he slew thee. I believed him not, though doubt ever crept into my mind."

Witch_Queen

10-06-2004, 01:21 PM

"You thought me to be dead. My goodness does your self pity know no end! I have been ever alone and not even Avalon could feel the emptiness I felt with you gone. What else do you wish of me? I offered you what you just broke and you throw it back in my face. Fáinu, I know you are troubled and I do pity you but the fact that I want to be here for you and the only thing I get is denial. Perhaps I should go ahead and forget about you and forget about this." Cree jerk on her sleeve and tore the thread that held the material together.

On her left arm was a scar from what look like burn marks. Looking closer at the scars one could see a name. "Fáinu, your name will forever remind me of the painful fire I went through. Day in and day out I have to live with the fact that I have these marks. Yes I know your scars are worse. Yet can you not even see that I have traveled so long looking for you. I have endured so much pain to only find you and find what I wished was death. I care not anymore."

Cree reached in her pack and pulled out her cloak. She knew that it was best she didn't go back in the inn with her clothes tore. She would mend the broken sleeve later. Perhaps when she had settled down and Fáinu wasn't around. Cree felt like giving up, she didn't want to go through this anymore.

Avalon could feel Cree's rage and tightened her grip on Cree. Unable to ignore the pain Cree looked at her shoulder to see red clothing rising. The crow punctured Cree's skin and was digging through her muscle tissue.

I know Avalon, there is nothing I can say or do. My rage is my own, and no one elses. I shouldn't take it out on him. After all I lost him so long ago only to get him back a changed man. What I would give to have my father back and be back in Eryn Lasgalen. Too bad Fáinu doesn't feel the same way.

"Forgive me Fáinu. I have gone mad. I didn't mean to become so angry but I did. I can not help it. These days my temper seems to run away with me." Reaching around her neck Cree pulled up the necklace she had showed Fáinu the night before. "I promised you I wouldn't take it off, not even in death. I had failed in that promise. When I thought you to be dead I removed it and placed it out of sight. Then when I had met my actual parents I removed it. This morning I put it back on. Hopefully this shows to you how loyal I am." Deep down inside it didn't matter how much apologizing she did Cree was still hurting and her shoulder was still bleeding.

SonOfBombadil

10-06-2004, 09:40 PM

"I don't know, Freddy, my Pop never really liked pubs all that much..." Freddy turned and looked at his best friend. "Come on! We're in our tweens now! It's time we made our own decisions. Filbert Ploughman thought about it for only a second before replying. "Alright! Let's go!" And then, the two hobbits took their first steps into a pub, the Green Dragon.

"Fili," said Freddy, as he stared about the new environment, "This is so cool!" They both let out a triumphant sound and wandered about the inn curiously. For Filibert, or Fili as he was most commonly called, who spent his life with fairly conservative parents, this was an overwhelming experience. But nonetheless he had the courage to go with his friend over to the bar, where Freddy called out to the serving girl,

"Two ales!"

Hookbill the Goomba

10-07-2004, 01:36 AM

"I must admit, it seemed strange to me," replied Fáinu, "that you would keep it, considering how to all others I was dead."

Cree was silent and hid the necklace again. The Crow seemed to be nervous and anxious. Cree looked still to be angry with Fáinu. He had words in his mind that he did not wish to say, but some how, they came out.

"What dost thou wish of me?" he asked, "Do you wish me to lie, to tell you that everything will go back to how it was? Even you know that cannot be."

Cree was not best pleased, as the blood began to be visible to Fáinu. He looked at the crow, who looked troubled. He could not say anything to help her, he knew that he was destined to ever be alone. He did not care anymore.

"Curses to the dragon," he said under his breath, Cree hared this, "If it were not for him, then perhaps life would be more blissful. None of this wouldst have happened. It seems that we were not meant to be happy, Cree." with that he bowed and went out of the stables and stood under the tree to collect his thoughts.

Witch_Queen

10-07-2004, 08:41 AM

After a few minutes of being alone in the stables with only Avalon and the horses to keep her company Cree decided to go back to the inn. Nothing she could do now would change what happened between her and Fáinu. Stopping outside the inn Cree looked around to see who may be outside. Noticing that Fáinu was under one of the near by trees, Cree ignored the fact that she wanted to talk to him. "Blasted curses." She didn't know what else to do. She was tired of the fighting and of the feelings. "What now? Do I simply ignore the fact that my heart is saying one thing while my brain is saying somthing else?"

The bird on her shoulder screeched at the words coming out of Cree's mouth. Reaching her hand up Cree clamped the bird beak shut. "Not now Avalon. I refuse to even do anything about him anymore. Father always told me Fáinu would be a hand full. Its a lost cause my dear friend. It always was a lost cause."

The puncture marks in her shoulder was beginning to hurt more and more with every word that left Cree's lips. It had been awhile since Avalon had decided to perch on Cree's shoulder and now she was beginning to regret it. Cree took her hand away from the crow and ripped off the bandage. All the cut was going to be was another scar just like the one on her side and her arm.

Walking back in the inn Cree looked around to see who she may find. Fáinu may be the cursed and I may be the crow bearer. The only thing that make us alike is the fact that we both want what we can and will never have..... love. Cree saw a table in the corner of the room and walked over and took a seat. Nothing else now mattered.

Hookbill the Goomba

10-07-2004, 08:50 AM

What now, Fáinu, what now? Cree wished only to be with you, and you push her away.

I remember Cree, but she has changed. We both have. Since the day the dragon came, nothing has been the same.

You are a fool! Why do you not tell her you still feel for her?

Time will show us all what is to come. I cannot just say what it is she wants to hear, it would make matters worse.

A Time will come, when you will eat you words. See, now you have scared her physically and emotionally, are you satisfied?

Get thee gone, foul thought. Thou knows nought of this matter.

Fáinu went back to the stables. Cree was not there, and her horse was. He knew she must be in the inn. He wanted to go back, but did not think it time. He mounted his horse and rode off.

Maeggaladiel

10-07-2004, 09:39 AM

The tall human walked down the road, whistling brightly. The wolfy-looking dog at her feet trotted along beside her, his tail wagging hard enough to stir flurries of dust from the road into miniature tornadoes.

"Here we are," Eleniel said brightly, swinging her chesnut colored braid over her shoulder. "The Green Dragon. Good to be back, isn't it Arrow?" The dog, hearing his name, looked up and wagged his tail even harder.

"Haven't been here for at least a year," Eleniel continued conversationally. "There's always something interesting going on here. It's my favorite stop on our journey. And if you promise to behave yourself this time, I'll let you come in with me." She cast the dog a pointed stare. He avoided her gaze and pretended to study a cricket that hopped into his path. Arrow remembered this place. A certain experience that happened last year at the Green Dragon had taught him to stay out of roads, especially when carraiges were nearby.

Eleniel looked behind her. Her faithful horse, Armellon, plodded along in their footsteps. He was a good packhorse; he carried Eleniel's purchased goods and followed her without need of being guided. Eleniel made a clicking sound with her tongue and the horse raised his head, his ears perked.

"Ready for a rest, friend?" she asked. The horse plodded up to her and nudged her towards the stable. In other words, Yes, he was ready for a rest.

Eleniel led him into an empty stall and removed his saddlebags. They were brown leather printed with the emblem of a perched raven. It was the symbol for her Laketown-based shop, The Raven's Nest. She fished around inside for a moment and pulled out a small purse.

"C'mon, Arrow, let's get something to eat." The dog approved, and together they walked inside the inn.

The inn was about to serve second breakfast, a meal that was in her mind purely and distinctly hobbitish. Sometimes she wished that humans shared similar customs.

She looked around. The inn was full of people, as per usual. Just how she remembered it. She settled down with a mug of ale, Arrow at her feet with a saucer of water. Just how she remembered it.

Nurumaiel

10-07-2004, 11:12 AM

"I don't know what more to say, Lily," said Posco. "My home is something I can't put into words."

He paused, and he looked about him, gazing over the rolling hills of the Shire, and then his face brightened. "Sitting up in this tree, Lily, with the leaves touching your cheeks and the breeze making musical rustles up in these branches, and the sun and clouds above you, and the grass waving below you, and the flowers with all their reds, purples, blues, and yellows... well, what does it make you think of? That's what my home is, Lily."

Firefoot

10-08-2004, 05:08 PM

"I cannot wait to see it," said Lily. It did sound beautiful. Beautiful... like the flowers in her hair. She did not know why she thought of it then, but it brought another idea to mind. She paused, and continued.

"I do not know how long you will be staying at your aunt's house, but this morning I was thinking. Soon, I will need to be going home. Tomorrow morning, maybe. When I do leave, I am not sure how soon I will be able to return to the Shire to visit you. I will try to send word, but it might not be possible. I will think of you though." She reached up subconsciously and touched the wreath of blossoms about her head. "I will keep these flowers forever, I think-" This said with a slight blush. "-and I thank you for them. In return, I would give you this." She undid the knot of the leather string around her neck, unnoticed for she wore it close to her skin. On it was strung a small golden stone. She was unable to think of anything else that she might give him, though the stone seemed somehow fitting. She was not exactly sure what she thought he would do it, but she hoped he might treasure it. "I was given it, when I was younger. Always I have worn it, but now I ask you to take it." She held it out for him to take, looking at him somewhat expectantly.

Arry

10-08-2004, 06:06 PM

Andwise put down his mug and stood up as Ferdy called out to him. ‘Son!’ he said smiling as he walked over to see what the lad needed. ‘I thought you were working on those little projects Cook had lined up.’ The smile faded from his face. ‘What’s the problem, son?’

Ferdy was about to answer when Cook came wheezing up the little path toward them. She’d hiked her skirts up to free her legs for moving fast and the dust was flying from each stride. ‘Whoa up there, Ferdy Banks,’ she gasped, her hand on her heaving chest. Andwise walked toward her and put his hand on her elbow, guiding her over to the patch of shade beneath the tree. Jinniver offered the woman a mug of cold cider as Derufin made room for her on the blanket they’d spread out on the ground. Tomlin, Ferrin, Fallon, and Gil, sitting a ways away, looked on in interest wondering what had gone on to put Cook in such a state.

‘Now Miz Banks,’ said Andwise once he’d seen her set down the mug and push back the untidy hair that had fallen about her face. She held up her hand, looking as if she wanted to speak first. An odd series of wheezy sounds, though, burbled out from Cook’s lips. Her shoulders heaved, and she shook her head.

‘Are you alright?’ Derufin asked, crouching alongside the Hobbit, his hand on her shoulder . . .

Nurumaiel

10-08-2004, 07:22 PM

A queer choking rose in Posco's throat. Tomorrow morning! He had thought she would stay for at least a week. How could it be that she was leaving so soon? He drew his sleeve across his eyes so she would not see the tear that sprang to them, and then he closed his hands over the stone, taking her own little hands at the same time. He contemplated kissing them for a moment, but he decided it was too bold, so he just fixed his eyes on her and said: "Lily, I will take it, and I will treasure it all my life, to my dying day. I wish that I had as much to give you."

"Why, Posco!" she said. "You have given me these flowers. Would you have me ask for more?"

"Flowers are sweet and beautiful," said Posco, "but soon they'll be faded. I want to give you something that will last forever, as my affections for you, for that love will never wither."

Firefoot

10-08-2004, 08:17 PM

Lily felt her breath catch in her throat. Softly she said, "Posco, your love is all I could ever want from you. For the stone, the flowers, in and of themselves they mean nothing. It is the meaning behind them, the feelings of their givers, that make them worth something, and in the end, things such as these will not matter. It is the love that matters." He had her hands in his, and though his hands somewhat rough from hard work, his touch was gentle. She knew what he had said earlier about going slow, but she could not help it. She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek.

"I regret that I must leave so soon," Lily said. "But I will return to you, Posco. As soon as I may, I will come back." Her face shone, and she could feel the warmth of love bubbling up inside of her. She wanted to kiss him again, but this time she held back; he wanted to wait a while, and she respected that. The time would come soon enough.

Primrose Bolger

10-09-2004, 12:28 PM

‘Well, then, come with me,’ smiled Ginger finishing up the last bit of her sticky-bun and swallowing the final gulp of tea. ‘I’ll start you out on flowers that grow along the front verandah of the inn. Mostly they need a little weeding and watering, and of course you’ll want to pinch off the dead blossoms.’ Gwenneth nodded her head in understanding. ‘Now I’ll be working on those climbing roses that grow up the trellises on each end of the verandah,’ Ginger went on.

As Gwenneth finished the last of her little meal, Ginger ran to fetch an apron and a small basket from the kitchen. ‘Here,’ she said, handing the full-length apron to Gwenneth, ‘this will keep some of the dirt off your clothes.’ She placed the basket on the table, waiting for the Elf to finish tying the apron’s strings round her. ‘Let’s go out to the little garden shed in back, by the main garden. We’ll fetch you some gloves and flower snips to use out front. And it might be nice if we made a bouquet for Miz Aman. She’s been awfully busy seeing to things. Do her good to have something pretty to look at and sniff, don’t you think?’

She motioned for Gwenneth to follow her.

starkat

10-09-2004, 12:55 PM

Gwenneth followed behind Ginger. Happy to have something to do, she followed the hobbit to the gardening shed. Ginger gave her a pair of blue gloves and a small pair of snips and they headed for the main garden. The young elf maid came to a stop.

"What's the matter?"

"I had yet to see this garden. It is lovely. The flowers are wonderful!"

Ginger merely smiled. "Why don't you start on the flowers for Miz Aman?"

Gwenneth nodded and began looking through the flowers. Being outside amongst flowers, the elf felt her lonlieness fade completely. A thought struck her and she began to create not one but two boquets.

piosenniel

10-09-2004, 01:39 PM

‘Are you alright?’ Derufin asked, crouching alongside the Hobbit, his hand on her shoulder.

Cook looked up, wiping the tears from her eyes . . . she was laughing! ‘Oh my stars, Ferdy!’ she said, looking toward where the lad stood, mortified, next to his father. ‘You needn’t have run out of the kitchen once you’d told me her name!’

Tomlin and the other three lads had crept closer. This was turning out to be quite an interesting turn of events. They looked at Cook, then turned as one to Ferdy, questioning looks on their face. Cook, however, seeing the tinge of red creep up young Ferdy’s neck, hustled the lad and his father to a more private place, a ways away from the others. She gave Ferdy’s four friends her ‘look’ of warning; they backed away toward where Jinniver and Derufin stood, just as perplexed.

Ferdy had by this time begun to tell his father what he and Cook had talked about. Cook nodded her head as Ferdy made his explanation. He ended with a somewhat anguished plea that he didn’t mean to have some lass like him and what was he to do.

‘Now Ferdy, you didn’t tell your Da, yet, who the lass was you liked,’ prompted Cook gently.

There was a gasp as Andwise heard the girl’s name. Then his lips began to twitch and he chuckled and shook his head. Ferdy, flabbergasted at this reaction, threw his hands up in the air. ‘Well there’ll be no help from you two, I can see.’ He said stomping his foot in an irritated manner.

Andwise put his hand on Cook’s arm, as she had begun to chuckle again. ‘Oh, my dear lad. Even your sweet Mother is chuckling a bit over this!’ Cook nodded her head yes at this. ‘You’ll be needing no help from either of us, it seems for speaking to the lass in question.’ Ferdy rolled his eyes and sighed. He was about to make some further protest when Cook spoke up.

‘You’ll be needing no help, Ferdy,’ Cook went on, ‘because the two lasses are one in the same. If you’d stayed to hear me out, you’d have known that!’ Ferdy looked at her, stupefied. ‘It’s Ginger, lad,’ Andwise spoke, telling him briefly how Cook had come to him. ‘Ginger’s the one . . . and apparently the only one for you.’

Ferdy, by this time was gawping like a fish out of water. Tomlin, Gil, Fallon, and Ferrin had crept close enough to hear what was going on. And now they ringed him, Gil clapping him hard on the back to make him breathe.

‘Good one, Ferdy!’ cried Tomlin. ‘She’s a sweet catch!’ laughed Fallon. Gil, who fancied himself the expert on romance in their little group put his arm round Ferdy’s shoulders saying that perhaps he should give him a few pointers. Ferrin rolled his eyes at this offer. ‘Don’t you listen to him, Ferdy! He talks big and that’s about all there is to it.’

Cook and the others drew off, letting the young men sort out this new status for one of their own. Derufin and Jinniver were quickly filled in on what had transpired, both smiling as they looked toward the lads. ‘Well, now Andwise, that went well don’t you think? In the end at least!’ Cook asked with a grin on her face. ‘I wonder, now, how should I tell Ginger about all this.’

Andwise was about to give his opinion when Cook heard a ‘Pardon me’ from behind her. Ferdy had come with the others. He gave them all a serious look as he cleared his throat.

‘Begging your pardon, Miz Bunce. But I’ll be handling it from now on. No need for any go-betweens since it’s clear now where we stand.’ Cook agreed, with the admonition that perhaps it best be done today. ‘After all, she’s the one that came to me. She’ll be wanting to know at the end of the day, what progress I’ve made.’ Ferdy nodded, saying again that he would see to it.

SonOfBombadil

10-09-2004, 04:31 PM

Fili had just finished his ale and was quite enjoying his experience int he inn so far, when Freddy turned to him and said. "Oh my, look at the time! I told Poppy I'd help her with the animals 'fore noon rolls around. Wanna come?" Fili didn't have to think about his answer. "Nope, I think i'm going to stay around here for a bit, I'm quite liking it!" "Yea well enjoy it while it lasts mate." came Freddy's swift reply, "See you later!"

Fili watched his friend leave, and then he turned around on the stool he was on. He took a good look around the room, just soaking it in, when he noticed something. Or rather, someone.

The young hobbit called over the innkeeper, whom he had met earlier, and asked her, "Aman, who is that hobbit lass there serving the drinks?" Fili was quite taken by the girl. All the wonder of his experience at the inn was now focused on her. He hardly heard Aman's answer.

Gorothlammothiel

10-09-2004, 05:07 PM

Soronume took his drink up in his hands and took several sips, though large enough they were to be anything other than sips, yet he drank with a polite decency that none went anywhere other than between his lips and down his dry throat.

Lowering the now emptier cup, Soronume looked out into the room and noticed a maiden had walked in, but not alone. A creature of fair size sat at her feet. Her face was friendly enough, she seemed to be just as happy to be within the inn's walls as Soronume was himself. He wondered if she would like company, and, at that moment, he caught her eyes and returned a smile.

Soronume walked over to her, but not without a few quick shuffles as hobbits ran about the inn's floor with some speed. As he reached her, the creature raised it's head in his direction with a curious and cautious expression. "My lady" Soronume addressed the maiden, "may I be as bold to ask if you would desire company?" She smiled. "Certainly you may ask, but I do have company currently" she replied looking down to her feet. He smiled back, "Then perhaps I can offer you polite conversation instead? That is not something you currently have I believe?" She laughed and gestured for Soronume to take seat near her. "I am Eleniel," she began...

piosenniel

10-10-2004, 01:18 AM

piosenniel

10-10-2004, 01:18 AM

It is now mid-morning in the Shire.

The sun is shining brightly. It looks to be a fair day.

Maeggaladiel

10-10-2004, 12:49 PM

Eleniel smiled broadly as the cloaked figure sat down beside her.

"My name is Eleniel," she began, "And this large furry fellow inspecting your shoes is named Arrow." The dog took a moment from sniffing his boots to look up and wag his long silvery tail.

"We're from Laketown," she continued. "I own a shop there, called The Raven's Nest, and every year I take this little trip to find more merchandise. But now I'm just rambling on about myself." She gave a little laugh. Arrow, sensing her mood, wagged his tail a bit harder.

"What about you, friend?" she asked. "Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking? Are you here for business or pleasure?" She smiled good-naturedly at her grey-eyed companion and took a sip of her ale.

Gorothlammothiel

10-10-2004, 05:29 PM

"What about you, friend?" she asked. "Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking? Are you here for business or pleasure?" She smiled good-naturedly at her grey-eyed companion and took a sip of her ale.

"Pleasure" Soronume replied, "always a pleasure to visit the Shire and particularly this good Inn here". He smiled. "My name is Soronume by the way, and i'm not from around here either, as I would imagine you can tell".

"Indeed" Eleniel replied quickly, "it is your accent that gives you away".

"And there I was thinking it was my appearance" The two of them laughed. "But no, I travel the lands and always seem to return here to the Shire. It should really now be a second home to me." Soronume took up his drink and realised that he was still wearing his muddy coat.

"Oh, my lady Eleniel, you must forgive my rudeness." He took the cloak from his shoulders and laid it across his lap, taking care not to brush Arrow with it, who now seemed quite content. "I am sorry that my atire is not the finest example, my last travels were long although not eventful. More an exploration than an adventure, which makes a change". Soronume stopped himself there.

"So" he began again after a minute or so of silence bringing his attention back to the table, "what is this merchandise you seek out in the Shire? Something more than you alone should be aware of?" he said with a curious, almost mischievious smile...

Hookbill the Goomba

10-11-2004, 01:34 AM

Swiftly riding back over the hill, Fáinu saw the inn up ahead. he had not been far before he decided to turn back. He stopped at the stables and dismounted. He lead his horse into the stables and made sure he had enough food. He sighed and shook his head.

"What can I expect?" he mused, "All that will come of this is bitterness and sorrow."

Moving out of the stables he saw a few Hobbits dashing into the inn. They must be thirsty, he thought. He slowly entered the inn, Cree was still there. However, there was still no sign of Adu or Hama. He thought this most peculiar. Silently, he moved into the parlour and sat alone. he took out a long wooden pipe, placed some Old Toby in it and lit it. He coughed violently; he had not smoked in a long while.

Witch_Queen

10-11-2004, 08:39 AM

Cree heard what sounded like a familar cough. Turning around she noticed that he had come back. Cree couldn't make up her mind if she would join him or not. Cree could remember the first time he had smoked Old Toby. To her it was hilarious. "Fáinu, deserves not my anger or my disgust. He has been my friend since the beginning of time." Cree looked at the bird setting beside her. Avalon had been there when she needed someone. Yet Cree wasn't sure how long Avalon would remain in the Shire or remain by her side. "Avalon our path has been tough. It seems like only yesterday that I met you. Now I don't know what our future has in plans for us."

Cree turned and walked over to Fáinu. "Why, hello."

Maeggaladiel

10-11-2004, 09:45 AM

Eleniel waved a hand dismissively as Soronume sheepishly removed his cloak.

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said. “Road dust doesn’t bother us, eh, Arrow?” The dog’s tail went THUDTHUDTHUD as it banged against the wooden floor.

“As to your other question,” she continued, “the Shire really isn’t one of my major buying areas; it’s just a pleasant stop on my journey. Occasionally I purchase some textiles from a hobbit lass who lives south of here or some musical instruments from a friend of mine near Bree, but basically I come here just to enjoy the peace of the Shire and the good company of fellow travelers.” She raised her mug to him in an adventurer’s salute.

“And now I’m the one being rude,” she laughed. “Join us in our second breakfast! Can I buy you a drink or something to eat?”

At the mention of food, Arrow sprang up and sat at attention at Eleniel’s feet. She chuckled and tossed him a piece of bread. He devoured it noisily before returning to his post under the table.

“You said you’ve been exploring,” Eleniel said to Soronume, watching Arrow spin around several times before curling into a silver ball on the floor. “I should be interested to hear of your adventures, if you wouldn’t mind my asking.”

Hookbill the Goomba

10-11-2004, 10:02 AM

"Hello?" Coughed Fáinu, "Oh, it's you. Hello again... I don't know why I decided to smoke. I gave up recently." he shook his head and beckoned her to sit. Putting out his pipe he replaced it in his pack and then looked back up at her.

"Sorry I had to go off like that," he said, "I needed to find a friend of mine. He's a Dwarf, and has strange ways, I found him drunk in the Ivy bush Tavern." He offered her a drink but she already had one. He then took out some seeds and offered them to Avalon. The crow hopped down and ate them gladly.

"Now, to business," he said, "First I must apologise, my words earlier were rash and unjust. I am truly sorry for any hurt I caused you with them." He peered about the room and saw that several Hobbits were dancing and singing, some old Gaffers told them to be quiet, but they sang all the same, with half remembered lyrics to several different (and unrelated) melodies.

"I will not lie to you, Cree," said Fáinu leaning forward; "There has been a great foreboding on my heart for a long while. Ever since I came to the shire, I fear something is not right. But I know not what it may be."

Avalon squawked loudly and the singing Hobbits stopped. Avalon obviously thought they could do with singing lessons. The Hobbits soon went back to their tables and sat in bewilderment.

Witch_Queen

10-11-2004, 11:46 AM

Cree noticed that something was wrong with Avalon. "Fáinu, hold on a moment. I've been meaning to talk to Aman. It seems like Avalon could be more useful to the inn than to me. She seems to be out of control when it comes to her caring for me." Cree reached up and pat Avalon on the head. Avalon you are more useful when it comes to delivering messages. I have no use for you. It is time for our journey to end. You will come back to me when I need you. Always be on a look out to hear your name. "Fáinu you are welcome to join me." With that said, Cree began looking around the inn until she found Aman.

"Miss Aman, its been a long time. I was wondering would you have any use for Avalon." The crow on her shoulder let out a squawk. "She would really be useful to someone else. I thought that you would like to keep her here for any time you need a message delivered." Cree didn't know what else to tell Aman. It seemed like the days were getting shorter and her time was almost over. Cree thought it best to depart from Avalon for a short time. After all Cree had Fáinu now. She wasn't going to let anything ruin that.

Hookbill the Goomba

10-11-2004, 12:00 PM

Fáinu was rather surprised, he was seeing Cree giving up one of her most faithful friends for one who had abandoned her. He placed his hand on Cree's shoulder and looked concerned.

"Are you sure that you wish to give up Avalon?" he said, "She has obviously been a good friend to you, and more faithful than I. Why give her up now? More than any living thing on Middle earth, she will stay by you till the end."

Cree swung around quickly to look at him. Avalon began to squawk, she perhaps senses what was going on. Fáinu looked deep into Cree's eyes and saw how truly hard it was fr her to give up her friend. Even if that friend was but a bird, she had a bond with Avalon that was special. Fáinu knew that Cree would have to let Avalon go, there was nothing he could say to stop her. He shook his head and stepped back.

Primrose Bolger

10-11-2004, 01:37 PM

Once Ginger had seen Gwenneth settled in happily among the flowers, she excused herself and made for the herb patch. This little piece of the Inn’s gardens was Cook’s pride and joy. And indeed if Ginger had the right of it, it had been started long ago by one of the cooks and had grown into the prize piece it was today. It was lovely to look at, with little paths that meandered through the different beds. And fragrant – the thymes and sages and rosemarys throwing their dusky scents into the air, mixing with the lemony verbenas and mints used for teas.

Ginger leaned on her hoe and surveyed the leafy maze of plants before her. It would take the rest of the morning and into the afternoon before she had it done to her satisfaction. The hum of the fat bumblebees wandering drunk through the flowering borage was loud as she walk down the first little path and began rooting out the weeds. The sound was pleasant and the rhythm of her movements fell in time with it. At one point, though, she looked up, a look of puzzlement on her face. Something was missing.

She looked toward the Inn. It was the sounds of the hammering and sawing that had stopped. Her heart lurched a little as she considered what that might mean. Was Ferdy already done with his building and fixing for Cook. And more important, had she been able to talk with him?

‘Mustn’t think about that,’ she told herself. ‘Nothing I can do about it now. Miz Bunce will see to what she can. The rest will have to sort itself out as it may.’ Kneeling down to dispense with a particularly entwined bit of bindweed, Ginger shook off her doubts for the while and concentrated on the task at hand.

Gorothlammothiel

10-11-2004, 05:05 PM

Soronume was slightly taken aback by Eleniel's offer of a drink or something to eat. It was not a curteousy he was used to, but was pleased at the offer none the less and graciously accepted, "Just something small then, thank you, my'lady"

“I should be interested to hear of your adventures, if you wouldn’t mind my asking.” Eleniel inquired after seeing to getting the three of them their second breakfast. Arrow seemed excited at this prospect of food despite the fact Elenial had fed him just moments ago.

"Of course I do not mind your asking, not at all. I have a rather curious mind myself" Soronume began. "Indeed, I explore the lands at my leisure, I find comfort in being alone and wandering the paths trodden by few and climbing hills only seen by some. There is something more than comforting about wandering alone at times with nothing as a guide save your heart". He smiled as Eleniel seemed to be intently listening to him.

He continued, "My adventures however take me further afield than I would venture alone, and company is much preferable on an adventure than it is during exploration. It was some time ago now but I had an adventure with many others into Cirith Ungol, which is something I will never forget. Some of the memories I have of that are too close to my heart." Soronume stopped momentarily, "But I carry on none-the-less, I have other things I wish to see, and hope to have another adventure soon as well".

Eleniel smiled. "You travel so far afield yet you bring yourself back to the Shire? You have the same love as me of this place, a peaceful stop along route, or just from it but you cannot pass it by?"

"Indeed" Soronume replied to her question as he accpeted another drink, one which Eleniel had kindly bought him. He wet his mouth with the drink before placing the cup lightly back down on the wooden table top. "I have friends here too, though you would not guess as much from the way I seem to be sat alone frequently. It seems that we miss eachother each time we return".

"Perhaps" Eleniel added, "but you have company now Soronume"...

Witch_Queen

10-12-2004, 11:45 AM

"Fáinu this is something you can't understand. Avalon has already changed my life, now it is time for her to go on her own path until our future meets up with us. Avalon deserves nothing more than what I have given her. I feel like I'm not letting her be the crow she is. It is a rare occasion that she is able to fly around and act like a wild animal. For this I am offering her to you Aman." Cree turned and looked at Aman. Cree wanted not to loose her dear friend but instead set her free.

Avalon looked at the woman across from her. Avalon could remember the times inwhich Cree's episodes were worser than before. Yet even now Cree's curse was catching up with her. "What else is there for me to do?" Cree thought to herself and her words echoed in her mind. I wish not to push you away Avalon. I only wish to set you free even though I know there is more you can do in my life. I have had such good time with you. But I have many scars from you.

Hookbill the Goomba

10-13-2004, 01:22 AM

Fáinu knew that he could not dissuade Cree from what she was doing. He thought it unwise, but wished not to say so. He bowed and went back into the parlour. He took out a map of Wilderland and the lands north of it. He placed it on a table and began to write some things down on some parchment. He dipped his quill (Which he had taken from his pack earlier) in some ink and drew a small symbol on the map.

Cree came back some minuets later. Avalon was not with her. Fáinu looked up and sighed. Sitting back he peered into her eyes.

"Are you sure you have done the right thing?" he asked, Cree nodded, "Then, this is your choice, I will not dissuade you."

He picked up the map and placed it in his pack with some other things that were there. His right hand had stopped hurting for now; he could sit in peace for a while.

Witch_Queen

10-13-2004, 08:42 AM

"I had to, Avalon is her own bird and I am merely her friend. There is nothing else for me to do for her now. She has served her purpose in my path so far. Now it is time for her to make something of herself. Fáinu, I can't help her any more." Cree didn't know what else to tell him. Everything she had tried and failed on was just another bad memory, she wasn't going to put up with. She could feel her heart breaking as she realized that she was indeed alone. She had pushed Avalon away from her and now it was too late to turn back. "Fáinu, what do I do now? Do I just sat here and waste away to nothing or do I go out and make something of myself before my own curse becomes my end?"

Cree knew she was asking questions to which Fáinu had no answer, but she needed to ask them anyways. Nothing else matter to her. Avalon was gone and sooner or later, Fáinu would leave her as well. She had no choice but to set back and watch her life fall apart in front of her. Everything that had meaning to her was now nothing at all. She had nothing she could do now. She had brought about the beginning of her self-constructed ending. There was no turning back for her and now she was forced to set back and watch as everything collapsed at her touch. Deep down inside Cree feared that if she touched Fáinu that he too would dissapear like everything else. "What else is left for me in this land anymore?"

Amanaduial the archer

10-13-2004, 11:28 AM

Aman had been vigorously working (and hiding) in the kitchen since she had fled the stables, and had ventured out only a few moments ago to clear the tables. The Innkeeper wasn't entirely sure what she would have done if she had seen Snaveling...her gaze furtively flickered once around the room, then settled back on Cree as what the latter had just said sunk in.

"You would leave your crow-" Aman paused, looking hard at Cree in confusion, fairly sure she hadn't heard right. "Cree, why would you leave Avalon in the Inn? She is...your friend."

The woman swallowed hard, blinking a few times and Aman saw that she had accidentally hit a soft spot. The woman's fingers came up absentmindedly to the crow on her shoulder and the bird nestled against the finger with superior fondness, then transfered it's gaze to the Innkeeper's face. Aman was taken aback: she had not really looked at the white crow before, or not in great detail, only to note that it was an exceptionally well-behaved bird and it's unusual colour. And of course there was the episode some time ago when it had shown such an uncanny bond with Cree when the woman had had a spate of collapses some time ago. But now, in those eyes, there was such an intelligence that bot shocked Aman, and intrigued her.

"Of course Avalon is my friend. And a...a wonderful friend." Cree's voice was soft and she paused her, her eyes soft as she smiled gently at the crow. She took a deep breath and her gaze returned firmly to Aman. "But I must leave her. There are factors here that...well..."

Aman laid a hand on the woman's shoulder as she trailed away miserably and nodded, touched. "Aye. Aye, I reckon Avalon could make himself useful around about, once in a while - although most of the time I don't suppose he would object to some leisurely rest." She grinned at Cree. Looking up at Avalong on the woman's shoulders, her eyes slipped to the tall, dark figure who had just come in the Inn door behind them and her smile took on a very slight determined edge. And whether you like it or not, I think that you and I shall have to talk as well, Master Snaveling...

Nurumaiel

10-13-2004, 01:25 PM

Posco's heart ached with love for the young lass before him, and the cheek she had kissed burned like fire. Her hands were still in his, and his love was great enough to make him bold, and he did kiss her hands, after all his thinking he would not. Fervently he kissed them, and then he released them and climbed off the tree. He could see her following, and with a wave and a smile he called, "Come, now, Lily! Let's first go to the stable to see if our ponies are well, for mine is there also, and then we will go to the Inn. I have not eaten yet today."

Together they went to the stable, and each to their own ponies. They said nothing to one another, but they smiled, almost shyly, across the stable floor. Posco's pony nickered and nudged at him. Posco called across the stable to Lily, "Would you like to go for a ride after luncheon? My pony is anxious to go out. And... and I would be more than honoured if you would ride with me again."

Fordim Hedgethistle

10-13-2004, 03:36 PM

Snaveling snuck through the door, hoping to avoid the piercing gaze of the Innkeeper, but it was no use. The moment she laid eyes upon him her face gained an edge that he knew meant he would soon have to confront her. He glanced away and headed to a table near some that were crowded with folk, hoping that the proximity to others would deter Aman from what would surely be an intimate and private conversation.

He had roamed the woods about the Inn for the last two hours going over and over what had happened in the stables. The gift of the horse had gone as he had hoped it would, but when Aman had begun her song – his song – something had come over him. He had heard much beautiful music in his time at the court of Elassar, but the rough rendering of the simple girl had possessed a charm for him. It reminded him of the past that he had left so thoroughly behind in his homeland, and for a second the long years that lay between those days and these had melted, and it was as though he were sitting upon the bank of the river with his sister, singing a song of their childhood innocence. It had been a mistake to give way to the visions, but given way he had.

At first, that had been the most distressing thing. His whole life, Snaveling had felt more at home in his visions of the world than in the felt reality of existence. For a time, with the King Elessar, he had moved out of his dreams and into the light of day, but since leaving for the north the dreams had come again. It was as though, having found who and what he really was, the world had suddenly become too small for him, and he found himself dreamily wandering through the streets of a mighty city of stone where he had never been, and yet which seemed oddly familiar. During the day, these visions were pleasant, if sometimes so overpowering that he lost sight of the fields and forests through which he had travelled to get here. But at night the dream would come in a more terrifying form, for the city would be one of the dead, filled with tombs mightier than the houses of the living, and all about him would be the wailing of women, and the sky would grow dark with a sudden wind, and a wave would come from the West, drowning all…

He shook himself away from the memory and looked about the quaint interior of the Inn, seeking reassurance from its smallness. Once more his eyes fell upon the Innkeeper and he was struck by how simple and how plain she suddenly seemed. Although his visions of the city had not yet included any people, he could not imagine a girl from Rohan upon its streets. How old was she anyway? The thought suddenly entered his mind – she appeared no more than a youth, as a child to him. He had spent decades roaming the world, and he smiled slowly at the thought of her extreme innocence of what he had seen.
A great wave of pity came over him, for he recalled the stories he had heard of the Lady Éowyn and of her unrequited love for the King Elessar. At the time of the telling he had paid the stories little heed, for he did not care much for matters of the heart. But now it came back to him with especial force for it so closely mirrored his own situation. The girl of Rohan had once again become enamoured of a Man out of her reach.

He regretted the gift of the horse now, for it would only serve to drive on her wild dreams of him, and to encourage her to continue in her hopeless desires. Snaveling felt more comfortable in his chair as he thought this through. It would be hard, but hard truths must be heard. When they next spoke, he would explain the impossibility of her situation to Aman. He hoped that she would be able to see the truth as he did, and that she would not be too hurt by it…

Kransha

10-13-2004, 06:56 PM

Someone else was sneaking about in the Dragon as well.

Tobias Hornblower.

Toby, after eavesdropping on the conversation between Amanduial and Snaveling in the stables, an event which he regretted having heard, had managed to assume his long lost vermin’s tendencies and scurry into the inn unnoticed by most, and most importantly, unnoticed by the innkeeper and her wiles. He still had to avoid her, as much as he didn’t want to, but was now also occupied by the matter of Snaveling and Aman. They went together, as the saying went in Longbottom, like weed to a pipe. Toby didn’t bother denying it. In fact, he’d been subconsciously denying the fact, or at least ignoring it. He was wistfully unaware, though he had good reason to be so. He was darkly preoccupied with his own matters. If such a thing had happened in the old days, before the ill sequence of events that had befallen Toby, he might’ve played matchmaker if he could. He done such things back in Longbottom, and was accredited among Hornblower’s for bringing about the weddings of several of his close relatives…though mostly for personal gain.

The elderly hobbit wondered now, miserably, what he would do. His inner, hobbitish instinct kept driving him to and fro like a meek little fishing boat in a storm. He continually considered making his concerns known, publicly, to someone at least. The burden was making his entire existence a continual cycle of repetition and wariness. Being circumspect might be routine for some, but Toby wasn’t used to this heightened level of cautiousness. He disliked it…he really disliked it, and had had enough. But still, he could not make up his mind about what to do. He was lost in a sea of choices, which should’ve been a good thing, but was instead more hindering and cumbersome. It made him feel obtuse, in truth, and that irked him most. He was compulsory, and though he often schemed and conspired, his skill at being decisive was always sharp and ready. For once, it had been dulled, leaving Toby at wit’s end and in the dark.

He sat in the dark as well, for the sunny light, fair and golden, streaming through the inn’s windows did not reach him. He had taken up temporary residence at a corner table, at the dark side of the Common Room, surrounded by bustling folk who obscured any view of him. He looked across the room every so often at Snaveling, or Aman, simply to see if they were looking back. He did not want them to be, if they were, but part of him wished they knew. He held his weary head in his hand and breathed deeply, hoping to calm himself. The hobbit kept glancing, almost involuntarily, at Snaveling, who looked to have become almost as much a hermit as he. But Toby knew that Snaveling had nothing to hide, and that was the difference between them…though he did, perhaps, have some things.

Suddenly, it hit him (again). He could tell Snaveling. He didn’t know why he hadn’t done it before. The eyes of Aman had not been on him all night. He’d thought of this before, but not mustered the courage to do anything. Now he could. Toby could simply approach his compatriot, take him aside, and carefully explain the situation. It was simple; painfully simple, in fact. Toby could not believe he had not done it before. His face warmed up, his ears quivered nobly, and his chest inflated. Then, like a King ascending, he stood…

And sat back down again a moment later. He couldn’t do it, no matter what circumstances. The hobbit could not bring himself to force his woes on a friend, or even break to him the news. Even a close and dear friend would probably misinterpret it, or not understand. He buried his head in his hands again, kneading his sore temples, and pulled himself back into the refreshing shade, hoping to conceal himself fully from any onlookers. There was nothing for him to do, except await the painful inevitability that was to come.

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

Not far away, an obnoxious voice woke up those animals on either side of Bywater Road who were still sleeping.

“Hurry up, slowpoke!”

Scratching the swollen wart on his bulbous nose, Spurge Proudfoot dug his proud feet harshly into the grizzled haunches of an ancient pony, causing it to bray uncomfortably and, instead of quicken its pace, buck and slow to a standstill. Growling, his murderous rage at the horse full to bursting, the hobbit struck the beast mightily, creating a resounding clap that reverberated in his ears. He clasped one hand to his ear, and the other’s chubby digits tightened on reins slippery with sweat. The horse brayed more madly, and printed his weakened hooves in the dusty earth, sending up a torrent of sandy mist that manufactured a shroud around the pony and his rider. Atop the animal, the hobbit swayed and lurched, his ear-gripping hand now coming to his stomach and grasping a monstrous belly that sagged in his hand. Spurge Proudfoot was definitely not a very apt rider. Twisting his face into a foul grimace he leaned and looked forward at the mounted figure on the well-trodden road in front of him. “Why don’t you slow down, hotfoot.” He yelled towards the figure heatedly, “You know I’m not good with these blasted pennies!”

The figure not far off, barely noticeable by Spurge through the newly sprung curtain of dust, turned his pale-faced head, shaking it in an admonishing fashion. “They’re called ponies, Spurge, not pennies.” He cried back, emphasizing the word ‘pennies’ as if he were stabbing something, his voice pointed and precise. Spurge’s lip curled disdainfully, and he spurred his mount out of the dust cloud until, after much unwieldy gallivanting, he had maneuvered it up to a point on the road just behind the other horse and rider. “You think I care what they’re called?” he growled crudely, half muttering and half speaking to the other Halfling, “Doesn’t change the fact that they’re smelly, and slow, and stupid.” The other hobbit turned, flicking his long and tangled mop of hair to and fro on his head. “Well, maybe you should shut your trap.” He retorted glumly (this being the reason why he was most often called “Glumwell” Boffin, rather than his real and true name, Gromwell). His words were dry and witless, but he seemed to be more in charge of his verbal faculties. Spurge, who was known as “Splurge” to Gromwell only, often slurred words together and, despite a long and grueling education, had not mastered his own tongue.

“Maybe you should learn to ride better, so’s you don’t hafta complain all the time.”

“Maybe you should think a little before you open your big mouth, less’n you wanna fist in your face someday.”

A third voice interjected before both pony-riding hobbits came to blows. It was a delicate, grandiose voice, that of a theatrical being, with annunciation and a voice for the stage, or, perhaps, for the birds, depending on how long one was forced to hear it. The voice said: “Maybe both of you should show a little tact and settle down before some ill-mannered tussock burgeons between you. We’re on a mission, remember.” Not missing a beat, Gromwell echoed the last line, smirking moronically. “Yeah, we’re on a mission.”

The source of the voice was Fescue Bracegirdle, a flowery, overblown Hobbit, stuffed into his clothes as if he were being worn by them, rather than them by him. He had a black-haired head, and a face that was heroic and debonair at first, and later became stifled, conservative, and ridiculous to look at. One had to admit, though, his face, and his overly regal attitude was much more tolerable that Spurge’s oafish thug persona, and Gromwell’s intolerably wormy nature. Fescue was the self-styled leader of the trio, even though he was also higher up on the scale of intelligence, and of many other things. Neither Gromwell nor Spurge cared about this, though. They were content to be in the business they were in, which was a busy business, certainly. The trio was all in the government business, or so they claimed. Really, they merely worked for the barely official government of the Shire, which, in Tookland and least, consisted of the Thain and his men. Thain’s men did not have the same power that local Shirriffs and Postmasters had, and had comparatively less, but they still had some minor duties. Most of those duties were the same, delivering the Thain’s messages on whims to the Shirriffs, who then delivered messages to the local populace. Fescue thought that his position was greater than this, but such a rank was above his own. He was merely in charge of a personal delivery, though he considered it to be much more.

“See, Master Proudfoot?” Fescue continued, in his aloof, dated tone of voice, “Gromwell has the right idea. Perhaps you should take etiquette lessons from Master Boffin, if you ever wish to gain a position of authority…like me.” He puffed out his miniscule chest, and his mount gave a whinnying neigh that resembled a sigh of annoyance, and could easily be misconstrued as such. Spurge grumbled, muttering inaudibly to himself, though the words, “Position of authority my foot!” were clearly heard by Gromwell. He might’ve have raised the proverbial alarm on Spurge, but he was cut short by another proclamation by Fescue Boffin as the trio crested a small, grassy ridge, flanking hilly fields, and a lump of a building came into site nearby. Fescue jabbed his finger forward, striking a dashing pose and nearly falling off his ‘noble steed.’ “Ah, yes.” He said daringly, “There she is, lads; the Green Dragon Inn: our charge.”

Spurge scratched his head. “Why are we charging? Is the criminal in there?”

“No.” Fescue snapped, almost losing his well-maintained composure, “We’ve been charged with the defense of the Green Dragon, and defend it we shall, upon the mighty bulwarks of Eriadorian law. I do not doubt that the place is filled with poor, defenseless souls in need of rescue. I assure you, boys, some will panic when we tell them the horrid news, but we will yet prevail. For we, my comrades in arms, are in the service of the Thain, and shall not shirk our duties, may they be physical, clerical, or lackadaisical.” With a powerful gesture, he goaded his steed on, and Gromwell followed up the oratory with a loud and triumphant, “Indeed!” He looked down on the Green Dragon Inn, aiming his beady eyes at the small stable that adorned it.

The three had soon clip-clopped their merry way to the stable, which was, to their mild surprise (and Spurge’s dismay) without a stable master. Fescue, Gromwell, and Spurge managed to wade through some high layers of hay and deposit their ponies in some unoccupied stalls, some of the few that were unfilled. One horse, though, was giving them a very hard time, braying and neighing and making an assortment if loud noises that grated on Spurge’s easily grated nerves. Of course, when he turned to see the animal that had made him so irate, he forgot his annoyance in light of the awesome nature of the creature. It was a noble and mighty animal, not like anything found in the Shire. It seemed almost undomesticated, wild and free, though it was compliant with the terms of its stall.

“Tha’s a mighty fine penny!” remarked Spurge,

“It’s 'pony',” commented Gromwell, as he gave his own pony a firm pat on the haunch that caused the beast to make a glancing kick at him with its front leg, though it missed utterly, “and that’s not a pony. That’s a horse.” Managing to ignore the equestrian experience, Gromwell turned and picked hay disgustedly off of his uniform. Spurge glowered at him as Fescue busied himself looking at the horses, scrutinizing them for some unknown, but no doubt very important, reason. “Well, how’m I supposed to know the difference?” Spurge Proudfoot shot back menacingly, shooting a sharp look at his rival. “You’re not,” Gromwell nimbly replies, “‘cuz you’ve got a head as thick as unchurned butter!” At last Fescue turned and placed his outstretched hands between the two as they stared each other down. “Now, now, lads,” he said coolly, though still overblown in his speech, “we ought not to be quarrelling over such petty matters, yes? Remember, we’ve been-”

“Yeah, charged.” Spurge interrupted him, sulking, “I got it.”

“I’ll bet.” Gromwell snapped.

Fescue ignored them both, musing and scratching his carved chin. “Mayhaps,” he philosophized to himself, “the chief ostler is not in at the moment.” Gromwell nodded dutifully, like any canine ought to (and the situation would’ve been vastly improved if he was a canine). “Mayhaps.” He said, acting in his customary fashion, as the precise and accurate echo of Fescue Bracegirdle. Fescue gave him a friendly look, the kind of look that master gives a dog, saying ‘for that, you get a bone later,’ and then said, in his heroic manner, that had already become annoying to the very air around him, and the horses, “Then let us proceed within.” And as they al left, he did not bother to note that many of the steeds let out neighs of relief.

So they entered, and found no one to accommodate them. The place was bustling with mid-morning activity, that of hobbits and men alike, who all cluttered the floors and tables. There was no person who seemed to stand out – to them – as innkeeper, or proprietor, or a person of some powerful position. With Fescue in the lead, the trio sauntered through the Common Room, very much expecting everyone to move out of their way, but no one did. Annoyed, they worked their way forward, searching for someone with authority. They found no one who had any, that they knew of, but they did manage to locate a fellow who looked as if he did. They did not know, at the time, that his name was Snaveling, so they did not call him that – or, Fescue did not, the other two did not like the Big Folk, and felt likewise about speaking to them. So, Fescue Bracegirdle addressed the well-clothed, nobly groomed, and kingly fellow called Snaveling.

“Fine sir.” He said, tapping the man on the shoulder as he sat, reclusively, despite his crowded surroundings, in a small chair, “You seem to be very…gargantuan…in stature and in gait. Perhaps you, a man of such noble girth and eminence, might be able to direct us to the proprietor of the most indomitable establishment?"

Gird

10-13-2004, 10:25 PM

A large man clumped up the steps of the Green Dragon with loud thumps of his fine leather boots. He walked with a sense of almost king-like dignity as he entered the establishment. His clothes were well kept and of a fine quality. A scarlet-purple cape was draped down his back. The fair face of the man was underneath a styled head of hair. The man's deep blue eyes had a sense of noble purpose- but also deep down (though none could see it) a sense of mischief. And it was a mischievous and devilish deed that this man had come to act forth. It was to be his folly that he had entered the inn just moments after three agents of the Shire's Thain had also entered the inn.

With a swift and powerful leap, the man had jumped up onto the counter of the bar(knocking over several hobbits' drinks). He called aloud, above the noise of the crowd. "Dwellers of th' Green Dragon Inn! Do not be alarmed. I am hereby taking over the position of leadership in this place, as of now." With a sense of triumph the man looked around the room. The common room was silent and all he could see were faces covered in shock, disgust and anger. He continued, starting to pace along the counter, "This will mark the beginning of my mighty empire that will stretch all across Middle Earth and I shall reign supreme for a thousand yeeaa.."

The man was now falling. Evidently he had slipped on some of the spilled liquor as he paced the counter. Now, from such a self-righteous position he was falling to the dirty, hobbit and traveller trodden, floorboards.

After a couple seconds of blackness, the man awoke to sounds of excited chatter, some laughter and the faces of 'The Thain's Three', peering down at him.

Maeggaladiel

10-14-2004, 09:47 AM

"Perhaps," added Eleniel, "but you have company now, Soronume." She smiled and took a drink of her ale, absently tossing Arrow another piece of bread. It was gone with a single snap of his silver and ivory jaws. He licked his lips and stared hungrily up at her, as though he hadn't eaten in years.

"Did you say you've traveled to Cirith Ungol?" Eleniel continued. "You must be very adventurous indeed! What caused you to go to that dismal place?"

Arrow started to whine. He stared up at Eleniel with large brown eyes, giving her the patented "Sad Puppy Look."

"ALL RIGHT." she said forcefully. "Here. Happy now?" She ordered a plate of bacon and set it on the floor. Arrow wagged his tail. Yes, he was quite happy now.

She nibbled on a piece of her own breakfast and took another drink. It seemed as though the dust from the road had been building up in her throat. Soon she'd have accumulated a fine sized desert where her tongue should be. The ale helped a great deal.

"I've never been to Cirith Ungol," she said, turning back to Soronume. "although my adventures have taken me close to the land of Mordor. What was it like?"

She turned briefly at the sound of the well-dressed incomer. He doesn't look like much of a traveller, she thought. He looks more like a bored nobleman.

"Dwellers of the Green Dragon Inn," she heard him bellow. "Do not be alarmed. I am taking over the position of leadership as of now."

Eleniel was far from alarmed. She rolled her eyes wearily and cast Soronume a wry smile.

"Somehow I doubt Lady Aman will surrender her position." she said. She watched as the man slipped on a puddle of spilled ale and landed on the floor. She gave a snort.

"Whatever is the world coming to?"

Arrow seemed to find this newcomer most amusing. Wagging his tail, he abandoned his licked-clean plate and sniffed at the man's face, licking his nose.

"Arrow," Eleniel called sharply. "Leave the amature inn hijacker alone."

Fordim Hedgethistle

10-14-2004, 10:59 AM

Snaveling was shaken out of his reverie by the oddest trio of hobbits he had ever beheld. For a moment, he could have sworn that he was looking at the younger cousin, or perhaps even the brother of Tobias, for the Halfling who addressed him had the same overblown sense of grandiosity that was so charming in his friend. One moment’s inspection, however, dispelled this notion, for nowhere in this countenance as there evident the good hearted roguery of Tobias Hornblower. Instead, Snaveling detected the officious sanctimony of a minor official with an inflated sense of his own purpose. Snaveling could not help but smile at the trio, who gave in return only stern looks. “I am not,” Snaveling began, in his best court manner, “in the habit of giving out information about my friends to total strangers. Might I ask who you are, and why it is that you seek the Innkeeper?”

For a second, the lead Halfling looked like a kettle that had been left to boil dry, so furiously did his chest puff out. A thick thumb planted itself in the middle of his out-thrust shirt and the little fellow chuffed out, “Mister Fescue Bracegirdle.” His thumb then moved to point over his shoulder and he said again, as though he were listing off produce in a shopping bag, “Masters Spurge Proudfoot,” his thumb moved to his other shoulder “and Grumwell Boffin.” He returned his thumb to his pocket and, planting his feet apart, began in what Snaveling felt must be his best official manner. “We are here on Thain’s business, sir, and not to be rude, but if you aren’t in the business of discussing your friends with strangers, I’m not about to speak of my mission to an outsider, begging your pardon and no offense intended.”

“None taken.” Now Snaveling had a very difficult moment repressing his smile. To cover the effort he straightened in his chair and spoke in the manner that he had learned from watching his King with foreign emissaries. “My name, though you have not asked it, is Tar-Corondil, although I am known to the people of these parts as Snaveling. To answer your question, the Innkeeper is…”

At that moment a loud voice from the far side of the room announced that it belonged to the new ruler of the Inn. Even as Snaveling was attempting to digest this odd notion, the owner of the voice fell to the floor. Snaveling rose to his feet, not to help but the better to watch this comic moment unfold. His eye caught sight of Tobias sitting alone in a dark corner, and in a flash he knew that the arrival of Fescue and company had something to do with his friend. Eager to distract their attention, Snaveling pointed to the man on the floor and said to Fescue, “Why the Innkeeper has saved me the trouble of pointing him out! There he is upon the floor. You must forgive his outburst, it happens when he’s partaken of too much ale.”

Firefoot

10-14-2004, 03:30 PM

Lily grinned, both in memory of yesterday's ride and in anticipation of another one. "Yes, yes, I should like that very much," she said. "After luncheon it is." Clover stamped his foot as if he too were eager to get out. Posco had finished checking on his pony, and he walked over to her, asking, "Have you finished?" Lily gave her pony a gentle tug on his forelock in farewell and turned to Posco.

"Yes, I am ready to go back to the inn now." Lily took Posco's offered hand and they returned to the inn together. Upon entering, Lily took note of the man lying on the floor by the bar. She murmured, "Someone has apparently had too much beer. At this hour!" Posco nodded in agreement. He led her to a table towards the back, pulling out a chair for her to sit in and then sitting down himself.

"Another ride," Lily mused. There was a joking tone in her voice and a sparkle in her eye. "Now what kind of adventures do you think we might have this time around? Runaway ponies, maybe? I think we will have fun."

Lalwendë

10-15-2004, 09:33 AM

Jinniver had done her best to get clean after the unforeseen tumble in the dirt, but there was only so much a bucket of cold water could do to wash off so much muck. Her fingernails were still blackened where she had made a vain attempt to claw at the ground when she was brought down, and she now had a few nasty splinters in her hands. In between bites of her scone, which she held using a clean napkin, she picked at the tiny shards of wood.

She did not sit still for long; soon she was up and whirling around, beating the skirts of her tunic furiously in an attempt to remove more of the soil. Her face grew quite red, as she got more frustrated with her futile attempts to remove the mess. Her other tunic was not fit to wear, as it was badly stained and creased, so she could not change. The only clean garment she had with her was her best dress which was packed in the travelling bag in her bedchamber. She realised with a sigh that she would have to change into it later while she had her tunics laundered. It was too expensive a dress to wear for gardening, so she would have to put on a brave face about the state of her clothes until her work was done for the day.

As she was agonising with herself, she had stood lost in thought as the hobbit lads had burst out in another scene of commotion. Hearing about the youthful romantic feelings of young Ferdy, she smiled. But a sense of sadness was behind her smile. It was a long time since she had felt that rush of pride and embarrassment at being found out for liking someone. She looked across to where the young hobbit lass, Ginger, was tending to the flowers at the inn, and almost felt a tear rise in her eye.

Kransha

10-15-2004, 08:11 PM

Taking several auspicious glances in rapid succession, over his statuary shoulders, Fescue Bracegirdle eventually got around to speaking again, after double-taking a number of times at the strange man who this aristocratic fellow had nominated as the innkeeper. “Well, thank you very much, Master Snaveling Tar-Corondil.” He said, bowing with a highly embellished flourish, “The Thain thanks you for your services.” The man nodded pleasantly and turned away, a little too promptly for Fescue’s liking, but the hobbit was far too enthralled by his own deeds to realize that something might be amiss. He turned sharply on his unclothed heel, and looked down at the peculiar “innkeeper” of the Green Dragon, one primly formed eyebrow raised just above the other. Spurge nudged Fescue with his grimy elbow, speaking out of the corner of his mouth.

“He doesn’t look like an innkeeper, Fes. Looks like more of a toss-pot to me.” remarked Gromwell astutely. “Fescue, Gromwell,” Fescue Bracegirdle swiftly corrected, in a timely manner, “and I do think he has that air that a mannish business-owner should.” He turned his head and looked down, with mild indignation, at the pompous fellow, taking due note of his appearance, slight dishevelment, bombastic gait and girth, and his looks on the whole. He then nodded curtly and turned back, looking back at Gromwell as if his point had been magically proven simply by looking at the man. Spurge, though, did not seem convinced, though Gromwell began vigorously nodding to satiate Fescue.

“But the Thain’s message stated that the innkeeper was a girl.” Spurge said, jabbing a fat finger at Fescue, his lip curled in disdain. He paused, looking contemplative for a moment(or, about as contemplative as half-witted Spurge Proudfoot could), his finger pausing in mid-motion, and then suddenly flew to his side, to the leathery belt that hung over his shoulder as a military sash might. In the folds of the broad baldric, several scrolls were held by further cords and draperies, and the brawny hobbit produced from the multitude of messages a single scroll of fine-smelling, rosy parchment, and pulled out a small slip of paper that was enclosed in the proclamation’s binding ribbon. He energetically flicked open the note with his spatulate thumb, and held it out to Fescue, filling the other Halfling’s face with the terse message, tapping his longest digit against the salutation at the top. “See?” he said, almost voraciously, as he was not used to being right and always savored the opportunity to be so, “It says ‘Miss Amanduial,’ not Mister.”

Wrinkling his nose and pulling back from the slip of paper and shoving it aside dismissively. “Probably a clerical error.” He said to both of his bewildered cohorts, calm and collected as usual as he pilfered the message from Spurge’s upraised hand and tucked it neatly beneath the length of ribbon that held the scroll. “Even the Thain makes mistakes…sometimes.” He hastily corrected himself, and Gromwell heartily grinned, though spurge simply snorted. “Anyway,” Fescue Bracegirdle continued, almost drawling fine, classical rhetoric in that operatic voice of his, preaching to the sky, “why would any man lie of such things? No one has reason to hinder our noble course. It is not as if he is the criminal.” Gromwell let loose a good-natured, but obviously forced chuckle at this.

Spurge, on the other hand, looked as if his slow mind had just been rejuvenated by thought. “Maybe ‘e is!” He cried, practically leaping from his grounded position. The hobbit seemed poised, strangely, and impelled to speak voraciously; stabbing a finger like a sword at the man, who had his back turned, and he spoke in a fierce, rasping whisper. But, Fescue waved him aside again, incredulous in the extreme. “Spurge,” he said, like a frustrated educator, “the criminal is a hobbit.” His eyes turned to Snaveling, who seemed to be nervously milling about, and said, with some confidence: “That is not a hobbit.” But, Spurge had not gotten over his sudden burst of luster, and spouted out the only possible explanation he could think of, one that seemed perfectly plausible - to him.

“Maybe he’s wearin’ stilts?”

Fescue did not even hesitate to terminate that theory. “What a ridiculous concept.” He admonished his accomplice, “Surely, this is the innkeeper. Let us find out.” His prognosis was curt, and not to be argued, siding physically with his supervisor, Gromwell gave a stern nod, which followed Fescue’s own, and Spurge shrunk back in defeat, his venture deemed preposterous by Fescue’s sterling logic. Grumbling in an underhanded manner, Spurge followed suit as Fescue turned and leaned over the gaudy fellow and gripping his hand, attempted to extricate him from the floor. The poor hobbit, witty as he was, had nowhere near enough strength in his small arms to arouse the man, so surly Spurge had to grab the man’s other arm. They tugged uselessly for a few moments before the man got up of his own accord, rocking slightly from side to side like one intoxicated, which elicited indignant looks from Spurge and Gromwell. Fescue, though, was polite and socially refined, as usual, presenting himself as a rare find to the man, who looked at him with a most peculiar look plastered on his fair face, which caused Spurge to cough uncomfortably, a bit disconcerted.

“Excuse me,” he began eloquently, “most noble innkeeper of the Green Dragon. Are you well?” This was said with a minimal air of concern, though not doleful concern, or credible concern, but obligatory concern. The hobbit did not let the simple phrase be answered before he plowed on with his prudish yammering. “Your associate here,” he said, indicating Snaveling (who was actually not where he had been, thus rendering Fescue’s auxiliary gesture meaningless), “tells me you’ve had excess liquor, but I am sure that such a respectable fellow is always sober, to some degree; else you would not be able to manage such a reputed, eminent, renowned, and wholly fine establishment.”

Hookbill the Goomba

10-16-2004, 10:22 AM

"What else is left for me in this land anymore?" said Cree sadly. Fáinu looked at Cree and felt her sadness emulate from her. He knew that he had been one of the causes of her sadness. There was not much he could now do, save perhaps to offer aid, and that he expected her to decline.

"What would you ask of me?" said Fáinu, "Many sorrows fill your heart, and I know that I contributed to them. Surly I can aid you in healing some of your hurts? Ask of me, and if it is in my power, I shall see it done."

Cree did not move, it was as if she had not been listening and was off in her own little world. Fáinu lent closer to her and with a look of concern he said;

"Cree, Will you hearken to me?" She looked up at him and yet said naught, she seemed now to have been drained of all contentment. Avalon had been a friend and it was hard for her to give up a dear comrade such as her. Fáinu sat back and thought to himself. Cree was filled with sorrow and doubt, distrust and rage. All he could do was be silent.

Amanaduial the archer

10-18-2004, 08:28 AM

"So three meals then, one full, two without gravy and one with no veg or gravy and with the steak very rare?"

Aman eyed her four 'customers' warily over her notebook. All four seemed rather shorter than even the average hobbit customer, and one, for whom a rare steak with no vegetables, had been ordered, was so wrapped up in heavy winter clothes, despite the fair weather, that she could barely see it's figure. Not to mention the fact that one of the other customers had an arm across the back of the former's neck: not that this was strange in itself - it was something about the white knuckle grip that was being exerted on the tightly tied scarf around it's neck.

"Actu'lly, can I skip the vegibles as well please, miss?" piped up one of them in a somewhat muffled but still suspiciously squeaky voice.

"Brando! You will ea- I mean..." the high pitched, juvenile female voice deepened itself with difficulty. "I mean, you will eat your veggibles as your mother- erm, as you wife told you to!"

"But I- ow!" There was a thud beneath the table and one of the heavily wrapped figures doubled over, looking up to fiercely reprimand the previous speaker. "Oahh...oh, Tilly Longbottom, I'm gonna tell your mam you did that, that was my ankle..."

Aman cleared her throat subtly, trying not to laugh at the tableau. She knew exactly what was coming next, and could have timed the awkward pause that came before the next, hopelessly predictable line.

"Erm...and can we also order a few beers? Miss Innkeeper? Please?"

Aman regarded the hopeful faces beneath their fake beards and jauntily stuck on moustaches and gave a sigh of mock-sorrow. "I'm sorry, gentlemen," she replied regretfully. "But we just ran out." She eyed the quartet of disguised hobbit youths challengingly to see whether they would press on the matter but instead they sort of deflated and there was a murmur of unsatisfied discussion between them until Aman threw in her ace. "Of course," she said carefully. "For such fine and upstanding gentlemen of the Inn, a most sophisticated and worthy beverage has always been...strawberry fizz?"

The four heads nearly collided as another flurry of muttered discussion ensued before one of the youths, the appointed spokeshobbit, nodded up at Aman. "Right y'are then: three strawberry fizzes it is then."

"Please!" Another hissed.

"Oh, right, yes, three strawberry fizzes please," the spokeshobbit ammended guiltily. "And, eh...and one bowl of water," he added shiftily.

Aman winked, finishing off the order on her pad. "Good choice, young sirs," she said with a flourish and a barely covered pat on the head of the heavily wrapped customer, greeted with a panted thanks which was hastily coughed over by the other three. She made her way across the room, whistling lightly under her breath, until a spoken line arrested her in her tracks.

"...as the owner of this fine establishment..."

Aman froze in mid-stride and spun around slowly to the source of the strange line to see a most peculiar trio of hobbits a few feet away, the most flamboyantly dressed of these half-crouched over a prone figure on the floor and talking to him with some difficulty with as much grace as possible. The Innkeeper squinted at the writing on the envelope in the speaker's hand to read - yes, there it was! - her own name. With a puzzled half-smile half-frown, Aman approached them quickly, slipping her notepad back into her pocket.

"Sorry, gentlemen, there seems to be some-"

A hand on her wrist stopped Aman and she turned, already knowing whose hand it was, to identify Snaveling. He half-rose as she turned, shaking his head shiftily. "Nay, Aman, let it be for-"

Aman didn't catch on and forced her fluttering heart to calm down - he was being absurd. "Don't be ridiculous, Snaveling," she smiled, pulling her hand away as she addressed the hobbits again. "Pardon men, gents, I believe there has been some mistake: I am the Amanaduial, Innkeeper of the Green Dragon. May I ask who it is that seeks me in such a way?"

Kransha

10-18-2004, 04:03 PM

Toby’s brooding was at last interrupted by a small commotion in the Common Room. He was far too circumspect and concerned to venture near it. He saw, after an instant of looking, that Snaveling was involved, as was Aman, and both were looking down at a trio of figures whose faces were mostly obscured by other activity. Tobias Hornblower tried unsuccessfully to catch a glimpse of the figures, but he was suddenly distracted by Snaveling, who was shooting him a knowing glance. He looked, reservedly, at his old friend, and was alarmed to see a look of great urgency. In an instant, the whole situation became clear, too clear for poor Toby. The authorities had come, as he knew they would. Thankfully, Snaveling was still with him, and had enough presence of mine to give a very noticeable signal. Panicking, Toby jumped to his feet and began a mad dash, as discreetly as he could, for the door, and an adequate hiding place.

He flitted out, with sprightly, but not jovial quickness in his feet. He dashed through the crowd, sticking to the shady walls and avoiding the vague pools of morning light that gathered together on the floor. He felt underhanded, illicit, even criminal, practicing such conspiratorial activity, but remaining unknown was of grave importance. The hobbit dearly wished that he had gotten the chance to explain his plight to at least Snaveling. But, he could not do so now, and was condemned to hope that he and Aman would understand. He would explain it to them as soon as he could, but he could no longer go to them. They would have to seek him out, and, maybe, they would remain his friends, and not expose him. He had quite a bit of explaining to do, a thought which tore at the front of his mind, but that was unimportant now. The hobbit had to find a hiding place that could house him, at least temporarily.

Toby thought of fleeing, but the Thain’s men probably had horses or ponies to ride, and he had nowhere to go. He resolved to stay on the inn’s grounds, but he could not go back into the inn itself, for his pursuers were there. Then, he saw his salvation: the stable. Without thinking, or considering what he might do, he high-tailed it to the stable and barged in, causing a number of nervous noises from the horses, many of which disconcerted Toby greatly. He headed back to the stall he’d slept in, but found it filled, by a disagreeable pony who neighed at him loudly, and snapped its horse jaws together at him. Hurriedly he back away from the stall that had been his, and spun, searching frantically for a stall that was empty. There were none. Every stall bore a horse, all of them braying and stamping and kicking. Only one stall held an animal that was not reacting aversely – the stall that held Snaveling’s (now Aman’s) mighty horse.

Tobias Hornblower had never liked horses. He remembered, distinctly, his last encounter with the creatures. It had been at the very place he stood now, in the stable of the Green Dragon. It was when the fire, which had begun, and later solved, all of his problems. He and his cousin, Fredigar, had been assigned the task of extricating the Dragon’s clients’ mounts from the burning stable. Toby had nearly gotten his head kicked off that day, more than once. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he hated horses. But, he could do nothing else, so he carefully opened the stable door, tiptoed in, with the horse staring at him, and shut the door quietly behind him. He began to move towards the back of the stall so he could conceal himself there, but the steed was blocking the way. The hobbit knew he could not get past the strong animal, so, he did the only thing he could think of doing…He began to talk to it.

“Alright, lad,” he said, “I don’t like you, and I’m willing to bet you don’t like me, but we’ve got to get through this together, got it? You let me stay here, and I won’t put every last drop of money I have to my name into making a fine lot of glue and horse meat out of you, alright?” Of course, this was a genuine absurdity, since Toby did not, presently, have any money, and he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t spend it on a grudge against a horse, but he was attempting to be as intimidating as a hobbit could be, and the only way to be intimidating, for him, was to act rich. Screwing up his face into a mighty scowl, Toby firmly planted himself and thrust his arm forward, pointing at the spot where he desired the steed to relocate to. “Now,” he said with an air of command and of power, “move.”

The horse did not look amused…or compliant. In fact, if it had had a readable face, one might’ve detected a look of incredulousness. Toby’s nature told him to be mad, to be furious with the animal, but his situation was simply to dire. He began to stutter uncontrollably, considering options. The thought of trying to dive past the horse and hide, occurred to him, but he realized that the horse would simply kick him, or do to him whatever horses did to those that they didn’t like. Stammering like a fool, he opted for sympathy, hoping that the beast would at least be able to understand simple emotion. “Move,” he said again, but less firmly, and he added, like a question after a long pause, “please?” The horse still did not move, and there was no hint of equestrian compassion in its noble eyes and drawn muzzle. Toby’s eyebrows furrowed darkly again and he tried a second time to assume the high ground, and force the horse from his way by verbal force. “C’mon, you filthy beast,” he demanded angrily, “move your great hide, or else!”

The horse whinnied sinisterly, printing his hooves several times in the soft earth, and Toby retreated miserably, backing up against the swinging stall door which he had closed behind him. With a sudden anarchic bray, the horse reared up, stabbing sharp hooves at the air too close to Toby, and the hobbit sunk back, quivering, into the stable corner. At last, the horse came down, and his braying ceased. It looked bemused, and its angry eyes lightened up, the fierce fire in them fading, to Toby’s relief. The elder Halfling managed to stagger to his feet, balancing on a trembling form that barely allowed hum to stand, and took a few half-steps forward, towards the serene steed. It was now completely calm, and Toby saw only one course of action. Very hesitantly, he laid his hand on the horse’s neck and mane, flinching constantly, but the horse did not react. Slowly, he let his rough palm glide along the steed’s sleek coat, caressing it, and then neatly patted its back. He tried, as hard as he could, to be unafraid – and tactful. “You know,” he said, semi-confidently, “there’s really nothing I can give, in exchange for sanctuary, but, if I ever come back into my fortune, I swear on my grandfather’s golden pipe, I’ll buy you so much provender that it’ll take more than two lifetimes to finish it all, and I’ll see that it’s good provender to. So, is it a deal?”

To his surprise, and overwhelming happiness, the steed of Snaveling took a few slight steps to the side, and threw its proud head back, indicating the stall corner. Testing the ground as he walked, as if it were water of unknown temperature, Tobias Hornblower moved into the corner and sat, allowing himself to sink into the piles of hay nestled there. The horse moved back into its place, positioning its head over the stall door, but shot one last look back at Toby. The weary hobbit managed to crack a meek smile. He had no idea why he had even bothered speaking to the horse. He probably could’ve convinced the horse to move simply by petting it, but somehow he thought that the animal knew of his promise…and, if ever the circumstances arose, he would be sure to keep it.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and the horse neighed back.

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

“You are the innkeeper, then?” said Fescue, completely forgetting that he had just been tricked. His mind was caught up in introductions. He considered himself quite the ladies’ man and, even though he wasn’t to keen on romancing any of the Big Folk, his familiar elegance took over. The innkeeper looked back at the strange little fellow with a polite smile on her face and said, “Yes, I am.” simply. Fescue pondered momentarily, scratching his clean, nearly polished chin like a philosopher of old. “I see…” he murmured, and then paused for a winding moment, looking off into the distance as a true thinker might. “Well, dear madam,” he then said, as he bowed pompously, “I am Fescue Bracegirdle. My two colleagues are Masters Spurge Proudfoot and Gromwell Boffin.” He indicated each of his Halfling cohorts, who gave curt little nods that the innkeeper acknowledged. “We are here on the business of the Thain, with dire news, of which you must be informed.”

Here he paused again, mulling over his words, and hushed his tone to a whisper. He realized that the man, Snaveling Tar-Carondil, who had deceived him a moment ago, was still beside Aman, looking a bit worried. This was very suspicious behavior, but Fescue Bracegirdle was, in fact, horrible at analyzing lies, and was also very bad with faces, which were very limiting factors for an officer of the law, but no one truly cared. It was family connections that had gotten him his position, even though he didn’t really know it. Speaking quietly, like a ready predator, he leaned toward Aman and said, “There is, dare I say it, a criminall on the loose, a scoundrel, a rogue, and a villain, and it is feared by the Thain that he may seek this very place as a hideout from the forces of justice.”

He was very surprised that the innkeeper did not gasp, or shriek, or do some other lady-like thing under the circumstance. He had fully expected the young maiden to swoon where she stood, but she did not. She simply said, a little more warily, “A criminal?” Questioning the words as if she thought Fescue might be fabricating them. This made Fescue very self-conscious, and slighted, but he didn’t let it show. Perhaps this wily female was merely concealing her normal instincts so that she could impress him, or some such thing. Though he would never admit it, the fairer sex was a complete mystery to him, so he plowed on.

“Yes, indeed;” he said, “a criminal most vile. I and my associates shall be remaining here, in the Green Dragon, to monitor any activity that may pertain to the rogue.”

Spurge suddenly piped up merrily, adding a tidbit to the conversation. “And,” he said, a devilish tone in his thuggish baritone, “since we’re on Thain’s business, we get free service.” But Fescue scowled at this, not realizing that it was actually a clever plan that Spurge had conjured uncharacteristically, and dismissed the thought as ignorance. “That is not necessary.” he said, “We’ve been endowed with more than enough necessary funds to pay for service.” Spurge grumbled and moved back, greatly annoyed that Fescue had again shot down his idea, which had, in truth, shown promise, but Fescue Bracegirdle was far too righteous to accept any improper activity from his two counterparts. Now, the innkeeper spoke.

“So, if you’ll excuse my asking, who exactly is this ‘rogue’?” She said, patient and unalarmed.

“I’m glad you asked.” said Fescue, “You will have to read this.”

The hobbit turned and yanked the scroll he had observed before out of Spurge’s baldric. He then neatly undid the thin ribbon that held it together, and unfurled the piece of parchment. It smelled of perfume, and of ink, and bore much intricate cursive on it. The whole content of the veritable proclamation was written in detailed, ornamented script, all in sable ink that looked still wet, and a bright red seal lay stamped at the bottom. Gripping each edge, he pushed it forward and held it open, allowing Amanaduial to read, as well as Snaveling, who was looking over her shoulder, worriedly.

Both quietly read the contents of the message:

One Tobias Hornblower, Hobbit man of Longbottom in the Southfarthing, formerly a respectable figure, is now to be regarded as a criminal, possibly dangerous, who is, at present, a fugitive in the Shire. It is advised that if any person sees or comes into contact with Hornblower, said person should swiftly report to a Shirriff or authority figure nearby. Hornblower may have links to several renegade organizations in and outside of the Shire, and is probably being funded by these syndicates, thus he may be in disguise as well. His presence alone may be considered espionage and criminal in itself. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to deal with Tobias Hornblower, as he has numerable dangerous and hostile colleagues. If he is apprehended, I condone extreme care and suggest that contact with the local authorities be made immediately.

Hornblower is short, around two and a half feet in height, has green eyes, brown hair, and has been described as ‘rat-like’ by several relatives and associates. He was last seen wearing a dark green waistcoat, brown breeches, a black cloak, and a brightly colored vest, though it is most probably that he has found new garb. Any persons fitting his description should be searched without delay.

In addition, one Opal Boffin is offering a modest reward for the capture of the fugitive, which has been augmented with a sizable bounty from me. Bringing Hornblower to justice is of the utmost importance, as his information may lead to exposure of other illicit activities in the Four Farthings. Those who receive this dispatch should consider it their duty to make all of these facts known to their surrounding communities. This dispatch has been sent to inns, taverns, estates, and county seats throughout the Shire. Locations that Hornblower has frequented in the past include the Hornblower Estate, the Drooping Willow Inn, and Hardbottle Hollow in the Southfarthing, Crickhollow and Bogmorton Tavern in the Eastfarthing, the Boffin Estate and Long Cleeve in the Northfarthing, and the Green Dragon Inn in Bywater.

There followed, after this paragraph, a rather large, relatively accurate ink sketch of the accused, with his name in large, thick print below the rendering, and more listed information.

Tobias Hornblower III – Charged With:
-Funding of Orcish activities, marauders, and ruffians
-Indirect participation in the subjugation of the Shire
-Indirect counts of assault and battery
-Numerous counts of petty larceny
-Grand larceny
-Murder

Paladin Took, Thain of the Shire,
Year 1433 by the Shire Reckoning,
The Great Smials, Tuckborough

starkat

10-18-2004, 06:36 PM

Gwenneth had not been amidst sucha flower garden since leaving home. The young elf was taking her time going through the flowers before choosing ones for her boquets. She smiled to herself as she worked. I know Ginger only suggested one, but I think that the Cook might enjoy a small surprise. I hope it is ok.

The young elf maid felt a momentary flash of nervousness. When she saw the next group of flowers, her butterflies disappeared. "Ginger!" she called. The flowers before her were unfamilier to her. They were beautiful though.

Gird

10-18-2004, 10:59 PM

The now disheveled man watched as the actual inn keeper showed up. The hobbit that had been talking to him had now forgotten his presence completely. This might be good for now. As his first attempt at outright taking over the inn had well... not gone so well, he thought it best to lay low for a while. The hobbit leader, or the one that talked proper, had gathered the innkepper Aman in close and they started conversing in hushed voices. Interesting. The man thought to himself, and he leaned in close to the huddle to try and figure out what was going on.

What he got from the bit of the conversation was that the proper one was an official of some position in the Shire, and that he had been sent here to catch a felon of some sort. He glanced over theirshoulders and caught a glimpse of a letter, just enough to get what he wanted; a name. Tobias Hornblower.

The man stood up as quickly and inconspicuously as he could. <i>This 'criminal' could be of use for me in my schemes of domination. He must be quite cunning to have subversed capture thus far. And his acts must have been quite notorious to have the Thain's men out to arrest him.</i>

"Well, I'll be minding my own business passively now." he said to no one in particular, but as to cover up what he was scheming.

Witch_Queen

10-19-2004, 08:59 AM

Cree didn't know what to say. Fáinu had caused so much of her troubles and yet she still went back to him. She didn't know what else to do. "Fáinu, I will not hearken you to do anything. I have to do things myself and I have to realize that even with you here I am alone. I can't stop what is happening to me. There is no way possible that I know of. My curse shall not become yours. If you choose to leave and not turn back that is fine. I will only move on with what ever life I have left." Cree had no-idea what she was saying. Nothing actually matter anymore.

Avalon is gone and I only now have to worry about everything else. Fáinu can't help me anymore. He never could help me. Cree sat there remembering the past. "Fáinu, do you remember the day you saved my life. It seems so long ago." Her voice seemed warmer than usual. A smile finally appeared on her face. "Fáinu, I'm sorry for what I have done to you. I should have let you leave when you wanted to. I'm not going to "force" you to stay here with me."

Primrose Bolger

10-19-2004, 04:35 PM

Ginger paused in her weeding. The warm sun and the heavy scents from the herbs had begun to tickle at her nose. She rubbed it on the back of her hand willing the sensation to go away. In her rush to get up and dressed and off to her work, she’d forgotten to pack a hanky in her apron pocket. For a moment, she considered using the underside of he apron, as her brothers sometimes did with the tails of their shirts. But she could just see her mother’s horrified face and hear her admonishment. ‘Ginger! Young ladies do not do such things! What would your Gammer say?!’

Well to be quite honest, Ginger thought, Gammer would probably be more practical. ‘Be discrete, my dear. And just remember next time to bring a hanky.’ Turning her back so that no one could see her, Ginger made a quick swipe at her nose with her upturned apron. She was about to pick up her little hand trowel when she heard Gwenneth calling from the front flower patches.

Ginger stood, brushing the dirt from her knees and shook the loose soil from the edges of her skirt. with a quick step she hurried to where her friend was working among the bright zinnias that poked up in clumps here and there.

‘Did you need something?’ she asked, kneeling down where Gwenneth was.

Amanaduial the archer

10-20-2004, 01:42 PM

Aman took the scroll from the oily, pompous hobbit and unfolded the perfumed parchment carefully, her eyes narrowing as she did so. As soon as she read the first line, her heart skipped a beat.

One Tobias Hornblower, Hobbit man of Longbottom in the Southfarthing, formerly a respectable figure, is now to be regarded as a criminal...
Tobias Hornbloer...a criminal...

Aman's eyes flitted down the page as another word caught her eyes, scanning briefly the text, until she came to the acts commited - acts so vile that they would merit death in any part of the United Kingdom under Elessar's rule. The Innkeeper looked over the parchment at Fescue, finding it suddenly a little hard to breathe. The hobbit seemed unsure of what to do and tentatively laid a hand on her arm. She could feel Snaveling's complete stillness behind her, his head still near hers as he read the parchment. She did not need the elvish bond of mind-sharing to know what he was thinking.

"Amanaduial, are you quite well?"

Aman forced herself to calm down as her mind spun quickly. She regained her composure and sat down carefully in a chair pulled out by one of the other two hobbits. "Yes...yes, thank you, Mr. Bracegirdle. I...well, to know that an individual of such a criminal calibre was loose around the Shire..." she fanned herself with a hand, and gave into temptation as she shot a look of panic at Snaveling.

Surprisingly, Spurge, slow-witted as he may have been, picked up on this. He cleared his throat officiously and leant forward towards Aman, his face now at her level. "Do you...know of this individual, Miss Amanaduial?"

The rememberance of ten gold coins burned in Aman's mind, and her heart nearly stopped but she didn't show it, shaking her head slowly, thoughtfully, opening her eyes wide. "Well, with so many folk flowing through our establishment every day, folks of all sorts, I can't say I recognise the name...Hornblower, you say? Well, to be sure, it is a fine and respectable family name, there are several Hornblowers who have graced the Green Dragon..."

Fescue chest swelled out as he drew himself up to his full, if rather diminiutive height, and shook his head regretfully, his little stick of office clutched pompously by his side. "A fine name indeed, a fine name indeed - to have one so vile drag it through the mud in such a way."

"Are you quite sure this fellow is indeed the perpetrator?"

Snaveling's voice was soft and impassive as he asked the question, but there was something unnerving in it that two of the hobbits picked up. Fescue, though, was determined not to be at all intimidated, and indeed Snaveling's dark face was utterly emotionless, displaying only mild interest - even if his eyes flashed a different message. The hobbit officer-in-law turned to the man and indignantly indicated the scroll in Aman's limp hand. "The Thain himself sent a decree, sir - that which stands for all the authority in the Shire!"

Aman nodded slowly again. "I see...I just...well, I don't understand how such a criminal can have got so out of hand! I do think I recognise the name...short, fellow, dark hair, shifty mannerisms?" Fescue didn't appear to notice that Aman had simply used the description entailed in the scroll and nodded eagerly. All three hobbits leant forward in anticipation.

"Aye, I remember - but he hasn't been here for a good six months at least!"

The trio fell back, disappointed. Aman sighed regretfully. "Sorry not to be able to help, there, but I don't suppose he would be coming back here any time soon - I refused repeatedly to buy some pipe-weed from him and he stormed out in a most...stormy mood," she concluded, uninspirationally. She gave a dramatic, mock-shudder. "Oh, to think he was here, under my very roof-!"

Fescue made to lay his hand on her shoulder but a thankful but sharp glance from the Innkeeper made him withdraw his paw carefully. He cleared his throat, but Aman spoke first, determination set on her features. "Such individuals cannot be allowed to run amock around the Shire - murderers, traitors and the like will never enter this most respectable establishment, of that you have my word! Not while such fine gentlefolk as you are around, I'm sure..." Fescue blushed at the compliments and he and his assosiated shuffled their feet nervously. Aman rose briskly and turned to Snaveling openly.

"Master Snaveling, would you be so kind as to fetch the stablemaster, Mister Longfellow? You know, the old hobbit chap standing in for Meriadoc..." Snaveling nodded in recognition, his face straight as he understood her meaning. "I need to speak to him about this matter, in my study as soon as possible - imagine if he was to get into our stables, and cause chaos among the horses! Let Cook know as well."

Find Toby quickly. Bring him to my study. Cook is to know of the gentlehobbit's plight and is not on any circumstances to give him away.

Snaveling nodded once and slipped away like a shadow. Fescue watched his back nervously, then turned back to Aman, giving her a small bow that he no-doubt thought suave and elegant. "You are a fine keeper of this Inn, no doubt about that!"

Aman nodded and straightened her skirt, her fluster not entirely acted. Straightening her hair out of habit, she motioned towards one of the corner tables: it was set near the fire but in a slight enclave of it's own, a cosy, isolated corner included by Regin Hardhammer, the dwarf in charge of restoration when the Inn was half burnt down. She was now doubly glad for Regin's thoughtfullness, even if the dwarf himself could not have foreseen the circumstances: although the corner, which seemed rather grander with it's warmth, isolation and large side window, afforded the best view of all newcomers to the Inn through the front door, it was also set slightly into the wall so that the kitchen could not be seen without leaning around and deliberately looking for it, and the entrance to Aman's study was pretty much completely out of the sightline. If Tobias was to come in through the kitchen door and slip into Aman's office quickly along that side wall behind the bar, the chances of him being seen, although existant, were very slim.

Aman set a smile on her face and led the hobbit's to their table calmly. "Will you take some food, gentlemen? You must be tired after all that riding..."

Hookbill the Goomba

10-20-2004, 02:00 PM

"I do not wish to leave," said Fáinu tilting his head, "I went to find out some news before. With little luck I might add." He smiled; he had never been the best at getting news. Cree was not amused; she had too much on her mind.

Rising up, Fáinu collected their empty mugs. "Care for another?" he asked, Cree shook her head. Fáinu shrugged and went to the bar. He came back with a filled mug of ale. Sitting down he saw how deep in thought Cree was. There was defiantly something she was hiding, perhaps she had found something on her travels that disturbed her.

"Dragons?" came a cry form an old Hobbit at a near by table, "as some one once said, theres only one dragon in bywater and that’s green... or something like that." Fáinu jumped at the word "Dragons", Cree smirked.

"No, the memory will never go," he mumbled to himself, "How can it if it is burned deep in my heart?" Cree was looking at him again. He knew she'd either decided something, or had something important to say. He looked at her expectantly.

Fordim Hedgethistle

10-20-2004, 04:04 PM

What has the old fool gone and got himself into this time? Snaveling’s mind hurried through this and any number of other pressing questions like it as he rushed across the yard to the stables. Stupid old hobbit! he thought angrily, how could you have let it get to this point? Why didn’t you tell me your troubles last night when we could have done something about it?

He burst into the stables causing a general uproar amongst the horses and cast about hissing Toby’s name between his teeth. He was muttering now as well. “Ridiculous, foolish, gad-headed, numbskull” and on with more epithets than he had even thought he knew. So furious was he that he did not stop to think of the effects of his litany on his friend. The first few stalls he looked in were bare of the hobbit, and Snaveling began to fear that with no empty spaces Toby might have done something truly ridiculous and attempted to hide somewhere just outside the Inn or, worse, that he had made off entirely. Startled by the idea, he swung about and made to run to the gate to call up the road when Aman’s new horse snickered at him and bit the sleeve of his tunic. “Not now,” he began but the look the horse gave him was so clear that without another word he vaulted over the low gate of the stall and pushed past the creature to see a pair of dirty breeches protruding from between the rails into the next stall. Grabbing at the patched socks about an elderly pair of ankles, he hauled the fugitive Tobias Hornblower back into the hay demanding as he did so, now really furious, “Just where in the name of the King do you think you are going Tobias?”

The poor hobbit slumped to the ground and stared at the tall Man with quivering eyes. His nose twitched like a rat’s scenting danger on the wind, and for a terrible moment it looked as though he really might cry for the shame of his circumstances. Snaveling was immediately overcome with regret and smoothing out his countenance he kneeled down before his friend and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “I am sorry to have yelled at you Toby, but I am very concerned. I am sure you know what Aman and I have just learned from the officers, but you must know too that we don’t believe a word of it. Aman is in there right now keeping them busy with food and drink, and I am to bring you to her study where we can all talk and decide what to do next.” Toby’s mouth opened and closed, twice, as he tried to take this in. Snaveling smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “Come,” he said standing and holding out his hand to help up the elderly hobbit.

But Toby just shook his head violently from side to side. “No no no,” he said quickly, “I cannot; I cannot face Aman, not now, not after what I’ve done. And you, when you know the truth you won’t be so happy to know me. You think you can trust me, that I’ve innocent of all the charges, but you don’t know, you can’t. Why don’t you just go on back and let me be. I’ll be fine. I can lay low until dark and then just slip away.”

“Absolutely not!” Snaveling said firmly. “And that’s settled. I am going to help you, my old friend, as you once helped me. Do you not remember my crimes? Nothing you have done could surpass them, and yet I was shown forgiveness and justice. You shall have the same – I swear it, by all the power that is mine to wield. Though it is not much, I have yet some potency. And as for money, if it is a matter that can be settled with gold or silver, I am well enough supplied with both.” He took Toby by the hand and hauled him upright. “Now you old rogue, let us get to Aman’s study, and let us hope that your countrymen will be too distracted by the delights of the Dragon to notice us!”

Witch_Queen

10-21-2004, 11:46 AM

Cree's thoughts suddenly dissapeared. " Fáinu, I'm actually glad your back. It does me good to have you here with me. I don't think I could make it without Avalon if I didn't have you to rely on. I can rely on you right?" She could remember all the fun she had with Avalon. Yet now she knew she had to do what she did. Avalon was there for her all the time, even through her terrible spells. Now they seemed to be deminishing, just like her heart. She couldn't control Avalon and she couldn't control her feelings anymore.

"Fáinu, in our past we have been through so much. I have a feeling that the times ahead will be worse than what we have face."

Hookbill the Goomba

10-21-2004, 01:56 PM

"Fáinu, in our past we have been through so much. I have a feeling that the times ahead will be worse than what we have faced."

Cree's words echoed in Fáinu's mind. Ever since the day his old life ended, he knew he would never be able to be at peace. Always his mind was fixated on some how, getting revenge. All thought him dead, and so, he considered them dead. Cree's appearance had prompted new thinking.

"I know this," said Fáinu, "Always my future seems black and filled with shadow. Nothing but a black veil over an already dark horizon." He looked up and saw that Cree seemed to be disturbed by what he had said.

Fáinu looked Cree in the eyes. He saw that she had suffered much, but her will was far from broken. She had held her will against foes beyond her physical strength, and lived still to tell the tale.

"Forgive me," said Fáinu, "I know that this is not what you wish to hear. This is on my heart. But if I keep what is dear to me, then it shall not seem so dark."

Cree smiled and leant forward. Fáinu glanced over at some Hobbits who were having a drinking competition. There were no winners in this game; the one who drank the most was awarded with a hang over to end all hangovers.

Angel_Queen

10-22-2004, 11:45 AM

Cree glanced over at the hobbits. She always thought hobbits were the creators way of making the world seem better than it actually was. Life was better in the Shire. After all the world had been through so much and to finally end up in such a happy place. "Fáinu, its amazing that no matter how much trouble Middle Earth is going through, we can find happiness and merriment in the Shire."

Her words remained on her mind. She didn't want to leave the world and go to where her kind was. The world still needed her and she wasn't going to abandon hope now.

Gorothlammothiel

10-22-2004, 05:18 PM

Soronume smiled at the maiden's comments of the 'newcomer', and they both seemed to be occupied by other going's on.

Soronume took a sip of his drink, and began to answer Eleniel's earlier questions, "adventurous I am indeed, although that was not my adventure. I was asked along on that journey, with many others. I can't say the Cirith Ungol was a place that I would visit without good reason, however, my company did have reason enough, and I was happy to offer my help to their cause". Soronume hesitated slightly and took up his drink in the hope it would not be apparent to Eleniel.

His dark hair fell about his face as Soronume put down the now empty cup, and he continued. "It was a dark place, very dark. The journey there was quite enjoyable, we made the best of the situation once we crossed into land which had not seen light in so long. It was all so quiet, almost peaceful but you cannot let that though reside long in your mind for you know what goes on behind high walls and closed doors in that land, so to speak". He let in a quick smile here, his dark travels hadn't darkened Soronume's spirit. He was the same as he had been before. However, the darkness had taken part of him, and it became more apparent as Soronume continued into his story, but Eleniel seemed engrossed entirely in his tales. Even Arrow seemed to be listening rather than begging for more food.

"It was a very dark place indeed, and it cost us all dearly. Though we achieved what we had set out to do, we were not the same, we couldn't be. Some of us more than others felt the pain of the losses that were made, unintentionally but unavoidable I now realise. It couldn't be helped..."

Soronume trailed off at this point. His voice was much softer and his mood grew into a state of melancholy that he had not wanted the maiden to see. One such as Eleniel shouldn't be told of such tales of sadness and sorrow, and these tales should certainly not be the usual ones which echo through the Shire from the Green Dragon Inn. It wasn't known for that, many more tales would be told with far happier endings than his own, and Soronume knew it wouldn't be long before a story came about to lift his own mood back to where it was before...

Kransha

10-23-2004, 02:11 PM

PLEASE DO NOT DELETE THIS SPACE

LEAVE IT AS A PLACE HOLDER

~*~Pio, Shire Moderator

piosenniel

10-23-2004, 02:15 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, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn (played by Envinyatar)

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

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

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

10-23-2004, 02:15 PM

It is now just after noon in the Shire.

The sun is shining brightly. It looks to be a fair day.

piosenniel

10-23-2004, 02:20 PM

~*~ * * EVIL CREATURES NEEDED FOR RPG * * ~*~

Calling all Orcs and Goblins!

~*~

CaptainofDespair invites you to take a look at his RPG:

The Siege of Gundabad

~*~

The Discussion Thread (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?p=357043#post357043) is now open.

Put together a descriptive character bio for an evil critter, and craft a well written First Post to submit along with it.

Should be a fun game.

See you there!

Nurumaiel

10-23-2004, 06:19 PM

Posco and Lily entered the Inn together, hand in hand, though the former seemed uneasy about the arrangement. He hoped that anyone who might look at them would think they were merely good friends, and not that they had a deeper fondness for one another. It seemed foolish to be so worried. Anyone in the Inn would have to know that they had never previously met to think it improper for them to love each other within the duration of a few days, and nobody in the Inn knew that. Besides, Lily was happy with her hand in his, and that was enough for him.

She tripped laughingly to the window, and he followed her with a happy heart. Her hair bounced upon her shoulders, and her feet skipped lightly over the wooden floor. She pressed her little nose on the window-pane, and then made a gesture. "See, Posco?" she said. "What a fine day it is for a ride!"

"Fine indeed," said Posco, "and I am looking forward to it as much as a hobbit can."

She turned to him with shining eyes. "Will we go riding at your home, Posco? Through the wildflowers and by the river, and under the moon and stars when evening has fallen?"

"Whenever you like," he said, with all the simplicity of a lad in love, who would do anything for his dear one. She gave him a loving, grateful smile, and then they went to a table.

starkat

10-23-2004, 07:42 PM

Pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Gwenneth looked over at her companion. "Ginger, what kind of flower is this?" The young elf pointed at a small white flower. "I do not remeber seeing it before."

At that moment, Gwenneth's necklace came loose and fell into the dirt. She picked it up and asked the Hobbit to help fasten it. Ginger made certain that the catch of the necklace would not come open. Their attention retuned to the flower.

Umwë

10-24-2004, 04:21 AM

Umwë pulled back his hood and looked up at the sun. It was shining brightly and warmed up his body. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the calm moment of peace. He took a deep breathe and the fresh cleared out his lungs. His glittering eyes looked like diamonds and he slowly began to walk again and headed towards The Green Dragon Inn.

It had been a long time since last and wasn't sure that anyone would remember him. He had been away visiting the Grey Havens and took a last farwell of his brother that now sailed to the West. The memories came back to him as he stood on the peer, watching how the white sails of the ship slowly disappeared by the horizon.

He sighed and shook his head. I will also leave all this, but not yet. His brother was the last of his relatives that left Middle-Earth, so now, he was alone. He got closer to the Inn and as he stood just outside he could here the laughter and joy coming from the inside. He opened the door carefully, as he didn't want to make a scene. A nice aroma of warm tea overwhelmed him and he got reminded how long it was since he last had a nice warm cup of tea.

He looked around himself and saw many faces that he couldn't recognize from his last visit. He walked over to the counter where a young hobbit maid stood serving the refreshments for the guests. He bowed and gave her a warm smile. She smiled back to him and said "Can I help you, master elf?"

"Greetings miz. The name is Umwë. I was just wondering if I could have a cup of tea?" said softly.

"Welcome to the Green Dragon Umwë." she said and bowed. "Of course! Just hold on a moment."

"Thank you miz!" Umwë responded as she served him a cup of tea. As Umwë waited he let his gaze wander around in the room. "Hrm!" Umwë woke up from his day dreaming and turned around. "Here's is your tea, master Umwë." She said and giggled. Umwë blushed and thanked her for the tea and sat down by an empty table.

He sipped the warm tea slowly and he almost burned his tounge. "Ouch!" he said for himself and pinched his eyes. He sat by the window looking at the flowers outside that was beautiful. The sweet smell from the flowers came tickling his nose from an open window. It reminded him of the times he had been wandering in the Golden Wood in his younger days. But the Golden Wood was now abandonded and the elves were all generally leaving Middle-Earth.

Umwë thought about maybe going to the Common Room. Maybe he could have a nice talk to someone there. I needed to talk to someone, as nowadays he felt so lonely. He glanced around in the room, and looked for someone that he could join.

piosenniel

10-25-2004, 12:33 AM

~*~ * * EVIL CREATURE NEEDED FOR RPG * * ~*~

** Goblin Commander of the Misty Mountains ** - controls relief force that arrives to aid the embattled Orcs on Gundabad

~*~

CaptainofDespair invites you to take a look at his RPG:

The Siege of Gundabad

~*~

The Discussion Thread (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?p=357043#post357043) is now open.

Put together a descriptive character bio for the Goblin Commander, and craft a well written First Post to submit along with it.

Should be an exciting game.

See you there!

~*~ Pio

Maeggaladiel

10-25-2004, 08:50 AM

Eleniel placed a hand on Soronume's shoulder consolingly.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to make you relive any unhappy memories," she said softly. "I know that not all roads end in happiness and not all journeys are pleasant." She knew that only too well. She looked away for a moment, lost within herself. The smile returned after a few seconds and she laughed.

"And I'm not doing anything to lighten the mood," she said. "It's a beautiful day, the flowers are blooming, and I've good company. There's no reason for me to get lost in stale memories and spoil things."

Turning in her seat, Eleniel noticed a lone elf enter the inn and seat himself at an empty table with a cup of tea. He looked like he wished company.

"What say we invite that fine gentleman over?" she asked Soronume. "He seems lonely, and in my experience, the Green Dragon is no place to sit alone."

Kransha

10-25-2004, 12:12 PM

“Tired indeed, madam.” said Fescue, smiling haphazardly at the innkeeper, “Libations would be a welcome treat, dear Miss Amanaduial.” He sat down, with his two cohorts, in the upraised chairs provided for them by Aman, at the corner table of the Common Room.

“Can I interest any of you noble gentlemen in some ale, or breakfast, perhaps?” She was very polite and courteous about all of this, though she had not lost her air of concern. Fescue had, obviously, predicted that she would do such a thing, at least to himself. The hobbit sometimes figured he must have been at least slightly clairvoyant, considering the fact that he was so often right about things. Fescue briefly, whimsically considered his divine intonation, before turning his thoughts back to the question that Aman had imposed. He was not averse to ale, but felt it better to remain alert, wits unsullied by alcohol, than to allow himself to run the risk of becoming slower on the uptake. So, he declined wordlessly.

Spurge, on the other hand, enthusiastically raised his hand. He had a stomach for ale, and a full, paunchy one as well. But, to his morose chagrin, his hand was yet again batted down by the indeterminable Fescue Bracegirdle, who shooed the limb from its upright position like a scolding mother. “No, certainly not,” he said, brisk but firm, “Officers of the law ought not to have ale on the job. Anyway, my friend, Master Proudfoot, here, can get a wee bit raucous when under the influence, and this is hardly the time to be making a scene, now is it, miss?” Aman nodded, but, to anyone with a bit more brain than Fescue Bracegirdle, it would’ve been obvious that her consistent agreement was a simple, albeit well-delivered façade. “No,” she said, “hardly the time to make a scene. So, is there anything you desire, my inn is at your service.”

“Only some victuals, after our long ride: whatever is available.” She nodded again and turned, a little hurriedly, but Fescue was not too polite to call her back on a whim. Begrudgingly, she returned to the table, as Fescue leaned up, over the edge of the table (as high as he could raise himself), and whispered. “And, if I may,” he said, “I suggest you inform the inn-goers of the criminal’s presence, or, at least, those who you trust, so that they may report to me if they find anything that may assist our search. I, in the meanwhile, will begin scoping out the grounds for the knave. I expect that you will not hinder my search. By order of the Thain, the grounds of the Green Dragon are as accessible to me as they are to you…except, of course, for your own personal quarters.” A vague red tint flourished in his face, but only momentarily, though long enough for Amanaduial to notice it. Disregarding the embellished look, she curtsied. “Thank you again, kind and noble sir, for coming to the aid of this inn in its time of need. I cannot thank you enough.”

Fescue fumbled his way out of his chair and bowed gracefully. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Aman smiled sweetly and headed back towards her study, all thoughts of bringing food or drink for the Thain’s Three disappearing from her mind.

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

His mind racing, Toby followed Snaveling. The man, taller than his companion and faster moving led Toby out of the stables and around to an unseen side of the inn, one which Toby had not seen before. “Come,” said the man, resolute in his bearings, “there is a secret entrance here. The officers will not see us enter.” Toby barely heard him, so engrossed was he in his pensive state, but caught the tail end of the sentence. He raised his arm and grabbed Snaveling’s lavish sleeve, causing him to turn. “How many are there again?” the hobbit questioned unenthusiastically, “What manner of officers are they; Shirriff’s, or Thain’s men?

“They are of the Thain’s household,” said Snaveling, his voice low as the duo moved through the kitchen, “and proud of it. They did not seem to be the most proficient officers of the lot, and avoiding them should not be hard…especially for you.” Snaveling cracked the semblance of a smile, possibly trying to console his friend, but Toby did not return the look, nor did he make further eye contact with his companion. His own gaze was affixed on the ground. Snaveling’s smile withered, and, when Toby looked up, it appeared that nothing had been there before. In disconcerting silence the duo headed inside the inn, through the kitchen entrance, wound their way through the kitchen itself, and entered Amanaduial’s cloistered study.

When Snaveling and Toby arrived in the study, Aman was standing, and looked flustered, pacing, perhaps thinking or perhaps for a purpose. She stopped her movement when she saw the two enter, and looked to them. Before the hobbit could say anything, she had practically materialized in front of him, her expression full of concern, but also bewilderment. “Toby,” she said to him, “I have heard some very disturbing news.”

Toby nodded solemnly. “I know of it.”

“Then tell me that it isn’t true!” Aman cried out, her voice’s volume rising suddenly, “Tell me you are not guilty of all the charges made against you!” Toby did not answer, despite the look of urgency on Aman’s fair face. The muted hobbit glanced, out of the corner of his eye, at Snaveling, who stood just behind, patient and unwavering. Toby waited, and Aman could only look down at him, in a state of confusion, at the suddenly reclusive hobbit. Finally, he spoke up, albeit silently. “I can only tell you what I know,” he murmured, his speech distorted by constant breaks and pauses, “…and hope that you do not think worse of me for it.”

The innkeeper was stern, but her alarm dulled and her face softened. Her tone became simple and blunt. “All I want, Toby, is the truth.” Toby winced at this, but did not falter too much, and managed to reply seriously. “And you shall have it. You may wish to sit down though.” Aman sat in her chair in the study dutifully, and indicated that Tobias Hornblower ought to sit down in another one of the gilt wood chairs vacant in the roon and continue. So, reluctantly, he did…

“Aman: the story I have to tell is a long one, and might be tedious to hear…and painful to retell, but for you, my two dearest friends, I will recall it. All I can ask of you is sanctuary. Money will not help me, and food or drink will not console me. By rights, I should not stay here, now that the inn is occupied by officers of the law, and I will only do so if you wish me to. Here is the story:”

“It was years ago – over a decade – before the Scouring, that it all occurred. In the Shire, we did not know a war was raging, as we were later told by our would-be saviors from the south. We did not know of the dire straits we were in, nor did we care. We were content. All the Bagginses were gone, which many thought to be a definite omen of a prosperous future. So, we went about our lives, even if we were more nervous, more alert, and the like, and then, as you no doubt know he came; Sharkey, the shadowy villain, who stole onto our lands and took them over beneath our very noses. His brutish men subjugated us, beleaguered us in our homes, and soon he had us in his bony hands, and those who would oppose him under lock and key, even the fool who paved the way for him, old Lotho Sackville-Baggins. It was thought, obviously, that no self-respecting Shire hobbit actually supported Sharkey and his monstrous horde of rogues…but…there were some extraneous circumstances to be observed. Before the Scouring, there was much talk of the outside lands. Much worry and debate ran rampant in the Shire. Then, Sharkey came, and Lotho was made Chief, and you know the rest…But you did not know of my unfortunate part in it.”

“I had not fallen upon hard times, and my family was prosperous, but those were the days when I was not the hobbit I am today. I was miserly, and greedy, and I wanted more than just money. I wanted power, for me, so that I would not be insecure in these times of strife…And that is what I was offered: power, or rather, immunity. Lotho it was that approached me first. I do not know how he had guessed that I could be turned, but he got what he wanted. As one of the prime heirs of the Hornblower line, one of the most influential families in the Shire, through various genealogical connections, I had a surplus of necessities, which Lotho ‘requested’ in exchange for immunity from Sharkey. I provided pipe-weed (in excess), and all the funds I could muster. I leeched wealth from my family, and others that I could, and contributed it to Sharkey’s government. I know not what he used my money for, but I can only guess that it greatly helped him, or at least allowed him an easier slip into power.”

“Then, though it is unbelievable, I did something mildly righteous, though it did not help. When I did not receive my allotment of immunity from Sharkey’s minions and laws, and witnessed the berating of my hobbit kin, I decided that I had been cheated and, stubborn as I was, I went straight to Lotho to protest. This was primarily because some family of mine had actually been arrested by the Chief’s Men, and walled up in Lockholes. That protest of mine, unfortunately, had the opposite effect. Instead of releasing those imprisoned family and giving me my dues, Sharkey proved that he would not accept the slightest hint of opposition from his subjects…My cousin, one of the three Hornblowers in Lockholes was…” he paused, his voice cracking in his throat, as low and as miserable as ever it had been “excuse me,” he said, as he halted, and took several deep breaths. Snaveling’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and his friend encouraged him silently, but it was still some time before Toby was able to muster the ability to continue.

“He was killed,” Aman was taken off guard by this, but Snaveling only showed a hint of surprise, as if he had expected it. Toby knew that he had probably deduced the fact. Hastily, the hobbit began to explain. “…I didn’t know him, since I have many cousins, but that didn’t make it any less painful. That lad was counted as one of the unfortunate causalities of the Scouring, along with the twenty or so hobbits slain at the Battle of Bywater, and Lotho himself. At the time, there was merely mourning. Several hobbits in Lockholes had been brutally beaten by the Big Folk that Sharkey brought, some to within an inch of their lives, so the death of my cousin was dismissed as part of Sharkey’s havoc…” his voice faded again, but not for long. He sighed deeply, and continued again. “I wish that this was the end of the story, but it is not.”

“I had no idea, as I have told you, what Sharkey did with the money I contributed, but now I can venture a guess. My sister, Opal Boffin, whom is a rather dogged investigator, and has lost no love on me in the past, recently uncovered my crimes, but in a greater detail than even I knew. According to her, the testimony of a hobbit who served under Lotho and Sharkey has revealed that the money that Sharkey did not use (as well as the pipe-weed, regretfully) was distributed among various tribes of goblins that still incur to Eriador from time to time. No doubt, at one time, Sharkey was planning a full-fledged coup, attempting to rally the last orcs around him with bribes straight from the Hornblower treasury. The money may still be swimming around among sinister groups in the Shire, those still affiliated with the deceased Sharkey.”

“And, to make matters worse, Opal is convinced that it was my idea to have our cousin killed, because he discovered my illicit activities. So, not only am I a petty thief, an embezzling cad, and a wretched fool, but I have been branded, by my own family, a murderer and a veritable lord of all crime. I do not doubt that Opal will try to lay every single crime ever committed in the Shire on me…but I suppose I deserve it. It was my fault that my cousin was killed, even if I did not wish for such a thing to happen. My arrogance and my stupidity has made me the first hobbit to kill one of his own kind in nearly a century…”

At last, Toby stopped, leaving another silence to linger, sour and unwholesome, in the air. “That is the story.” He concluded, “Make of it what you will, and I hope you give me no better than I deserve. The only thing that might absolve me of my crime, in part, would be proof that my cousin’s death was not my own doing…but that will not make all my troubles disappear…Nothing will.”

Gorothlammothiel

10-25-2004, 02:45 PM

"What say we invite that fine gentleman over?" Eleniel asked Soronume. "He seems lonely, and in my experience, the Green Dragon is no place to sit alone."

Soronume replied "Certainly. There is no better place to make new friends than within these walls". He had almost now forgotten of the sadness that had taken him moments ago, and was surprisingly keen to make a new aqquaintance for someone so shy ordinarily.

Eleniel didn't need any further encouragement, she stood up and walked over to the stranger sat alone. Soronume stood to follow her but hesitated. Two people approaching when you have just sat down to a hot drink could be a little daunting. He felt bad for not following her but she seemed to have everything under control; she was already at the table, greeting the man with a smile. They shared a quick laugh before he too stood to greet her accordingly. He turned to pick up his drink and then followed Eleniel back to the table where Soronume had been waiting.

"Soronume," Eleniel began as he stepped from his seat to allow her to sit down, "my lady". "Soronume, this is Umwë, and Umwë, Soronume". He put forward his hand in greeting to this new face, "I am pleased to meet you Umwë. Please, sit down". He gestured for Umwë to sit down next to Eleniel, before Soronume took seat on the other side of the small table.

"So Umwë, what brings you to the Shire and the inn?" Soronume politely questionned.

Soredamor

10-25-2004, 05:36 PM

Soredamor's neck ached, her legs ached, and her stomach growled. She cursed all her muscles that insisted to ache, and particularly cursed her empty stomach. The sign reading 'The Green Dragon Inn' was a wonderfully warm greeting by itself, and when she walked through the doors to the smells and the noises, it was completely refreshing. She soon forgot any of her pains, and immediately pulled out her purse, hidden beneath her rugged cloak, ready to pay anything for something to fill her stomach.

But she was distracted from this for a moment by the sights she saw in this inn. The amount of people she saw was a sight for sore eyes, and the kind of people she saw a wonder. She had so easily forgotten that she was now in the Shire until she saw all the hobbits, but now she could have quickly slipped back into that forgetfulness. It seemed travelers like herself were not unknown. It also seemed that this inn did a wonderful business. And Soredamor was all prepared to give them some more of that business. The growling of her stomach had returned, and she cursed it silently, and silenced it with the thought of finding rest here.

Umwë

10-26-2004, 12:28 AM

Saw two other elves sitting by another table not far away from him. Suddenly the elven woman rose up and walked over to their table. Umwë felt surprised and unsure about what he should say. Fortunatley the woman took the initiative in the conversation. She introduced herself and asked him to join her and her friend by the other table. The fact that Umwë was asked about joining them made him feel a lot better. He followed the woman over to the other table, and the smile on his lips was greater than ever.

"Soronume," Eleniel began as he stepped from his seat to allow her to sit down, "my lady". "Soronume, this is Umwë, and Umwë, Soronume". He put forward his hand in greeting to this new face, "I am pleased to meet you Umwë. Please, sit down". He gestured for Umwë to sit down next to Eleniel, before Soronume took seat on the other side of the small table.

"So Umwë, what brings you to the Shire and the inn?" Soronume politely questionned.

"I've been here before. But that was... A while ago." Umwë started and fumbled with the teaspoon. "I have been visiting my brother for a last farewell before he sailed to Valinor."

Umwë's smile disappeared and his eyes that shined bright in the sun faded. The silence embarrased Umwë a bit and he cleared his throat and said "Hm, well, what brings you here, fellow elves?"

He turned from Eleniel to Soronume. They seemed nice, and maybe they would make friends. At this point he felt lonely. All of his family and those he cared about and had loved, had left him behind. He was very careful now about what he said and what he did. He simply didn't want to ruin anymore friendships.

Maeggaladiel

10-26-2004, 09:56 AM

Eleniel blushed.

"Oh sir," she said. "I am not an elf, although I must say I am rather flattered. My name is Eleniel, and I am a human from Laketown. My dog Arrow and I are on a trip to purchase merchandise for my shop."

Hearing his name, the silver dog emerged from his hiding place under the table and sat down at Umwë's feet. His tail thumped noisily against the wooden floor. Whining, the dog sat up on its hind legs and pawed the air.

"Stop begging; I fed you five minutes ago," scolded Eleniel. Arrow cast her a dirty glance that clearly stated that one could never have too much food. Eleniel chuckled and scratched the dog's ears. He pointedly ignored her and turned back to Umwë.

"Don't mind him, sir, he's just spoiled," she said. "If he gets too annoying I'll send him into the stables." Arrow's head swiveled around and shot Eleniel the 'You Wouldn't Dare' look.

As Arrow slunk back under the table to search for remains of his breakfast, Eleniel looked back to Soronume to wait for his reply to Umwë's question.

Arry

10-26-2004, 12:48 PM

‘Now what are they about?’ asked Derufin. The roof was patched, the wooden shingles in place. He had come down to see what hand he could lend to the finishing up of the extra room in the cottage.

Ferdy stood in the midst of his pals, a ways away from the work site. Tools lay idle as Tomlin, Gil, Ferrin, and Fallon gathered round him. ‘Like a gaggle of five geese,’ chuckled Andwise, looking up from his work on the cottage’s front door. ‘All honking out their advice and slapping their big feet about in the dirt, while the one in the middle looks on, eyes wide, and ruffles his feathers uncomfortably.’ Andwise motioned for Derufin to come nearer. ‘What do you think of the design I’ve started?’ he pointed to the twining holly and ivy leaves, all carved out carefully about the edge.’

‘What’s this?’ asked Derufin. ‘You’ve changed the design here in the middle, haven’t you?’

‘I have,’ said Andwise, running his fingers over the heart he had begun to tease out of the wood. ‘You told me you wanted no reminders of your past, so I’ve put your heart here and within it,’ he continued, pointing to the small design at the center of it, ‘will be Zimzi’s sea-star.’ He looked sideways at the man. ‘What do you think?’

Envinyatar

10-26-2004, 01:16 PM

Derufin looked quietly at what the Hobbit had done. ‘Tis perfect,’ he said quietly, clapping Andwise on the back. ‘It will be a welcoming sign for all who come to our door.’ He looked away for a moment. ‘Thank you,’ he finished simply.

The clamor of voices from the five lads had risen. Two of them, Tomlin and Gil had hooked their arms through Ferdy’s, and appeared to be trying to convince their friend of something. Ferrin and Fallon stood before their three linked friends, nodding their heads in agreement and offering their own advice, their hands gesturing broadly to make their points. Ferdy had a serious look on his face as he sifted through the offered advice.

Firefoot

10-26-2004, 04:38 PM

Lily and Posco had sat down and eaten lunch mostly in silence; both of them felt to be starving and were focused on the meal rather than chatting. Now, her hunger sated, Lily sat back contentedly. Life was good. She was about to say something to start up conversation again now that the meal was over, but she hesitated when she noticed a middle-age hobbit enter the inn. This was not unusual, but Lily’s interest was piqued as the hobbit looked about the room and began to head for her.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said as he approached her. “But would you be Miss Lily Thistlewool?”

“Yes, that’s me,” replied Lily cautiously. She wondered what this hobbit could want from her. He smiled at her response. “Very good, miss. Then I have a letter here for you.” He removed the envelope from his front pocket and handed it to her. Lily recognized her aunt’s loopy handwriting.

“Thank you, sir,” said Lily. She pulled a coin out of her pocket and handed it to him.

“Thank you, and good day to you,” he said, and with a slight bow turned and headed back outside. Lily was curious about the reason for the letter, and stuck her finger underneath the seal to break it.

“Do you mind?” Lily asked Posco with a questioning glance. She hoped he would not consider it rude to read her letter in front of him.

“No, go on ahead,” he answered. She pulled the paper from the envelope and found a full page of writing, written small so as to fit more into the space. For now, Lily began to scan the letter for anything interesting; she could read the news more closely later, when she was alone. Dearest Lily, I hope you are enjoying yourself in the Shire. I have missed your lively conversation... Lily was relieved to find everything was going well for her aunt, uncle, and brother. When she got to the final paragraph, she frowned and reread, hoping she had misunderstood:

I have saved the best new for last, and I am sure you will be as pleased as we are. I almost waited until you were home to surprise you, but I cannot resist. Perhaps a week back, young (though I suppose he is not so young any more) Tommy Banks came by the house, asking for you. He was disappointed to find that you were away, and instead asked your uncle for permission to court you when you returned. Your uncle, of course, granted it to him, and I am sure you will be pleased as Tommy is a fine lad...

Lily’s face paled. What would she say to them? She had no intention of allowing Tommy to court her; she had Posco now. Lily let the letter fall to the table. Breathing was difficult.

“Is everything all right?” Posco asked her, clearly concerned.

“Yes... just some surprising news from home is all,” Lily managed to get out. She did not care to think of it as a lie, exactly. She only knew that if she had told him the truth, she might very well succeed in driving him away, something she could by no means allow. She set her mind firmly: she would enjoy her time here with Posco, go home and get things straightened out, and return to Buckland to marry Posco. She could only hope it would go so easily as that.

Nurumaiel

10-26-2004, 05:17 PM

Posco studied Lily keenly, and he shook his head. "Surprising news, and bad news, I'd think," he said. "It's not nothing, Lily, the lack of colour in your face shows that."

"It... it may be a little bad," she said, after some hesitation, "but nothing very serious. It will be resolved soon."

Now, Posco was a very shy lad, it is admitted, but he was by no means stupid. It was easy to see that the news from home was bad, and that it was bothering Lily. Very easy to see that. Her reaction to it made it obvious. And while he could not boast to know her well, he felt he knew her well enough (well enough to marry her, at least, and that must be rather well), and he was positive that in any circumstance she would tell him the bad news. But she did not want to tell him. Why? Because she was afraid to tell him. Why? Obviously because it concerned him.

"Did your aunt say anything about me, Lily?" he questioned.

"No," she replied.

"Then she said something that concerned me."

"She said nothing about you at all."

Posco sighed, and shook his head again. "Lily, my dear little Lily," said he. "I can't make you show me the letter, or tell me what was in it, but I know it involves me somehow, however indirectly. Indeed, I can't make you and I won't make you. But I'd be awfully glad to hear; I might be shirking some responsibility if I go unaware of it." He paused, and looked earnestly at her. "Perhaps I am wrong," he said, his voice low and musing. "Perhaps it doesn't concern me? But if it does, Lily... you decide what to do about it. Because, you see, it is mostly your business, even if it does concern me a little, and I wouldn't want to interfere."

Firefoot

10-26-2004, 07:35 PM

“Oh, Posco,” Lily whispered. She knew he was right; it did involve him, at least a little, and he did have a right to know. What he had just said, however unknowingly, was exactly what she feared, though. If he felt he had some sort of responsibility, for example to let her go so she could do as her aunt and uncle wished and court Tommy, he might leave her. Or perhaps he would misunderstand her feelings. She would not bear losing him. Lily steadied herself. She had to tell him, and hope he understood. He was watching her, openly and expectantly.

“All right,” said Lily quietly, though loud enough to be heard. “I will tell you. But first, promise me that you will not misunderstand my feelings in this. It will not be as you might think.”

“I’ll try not to,” replied Posco, frowning slightly. Lily nodded, biting her lower lip before continuing. She could not meet his eyes.

“You are right in thinking that it involves you,” said Lily, slowly. She still was not exactly sure how to say this. “You see, there is a lad in Bree, Tommy Banks. Tommy comes from a good family, the type I’m sure my aunt and uncle might expect me to marry into eventually. He has asked my uncle’s permission to court me, when I return.” Lily’s voice sank to a whisper. “My uncle said yes. My aunt is thrilled, and expects I will be, too. I don’t know how I will tell them that I never could, and poor Tommy! My uncle is a fine hobbit so long as you meet his expectations, and there aren’t very many, but I could never live up to his expectations in this. It may complicate matters between us.” Lily looked up at Posco, imploring him to understand. Her throat felt dry, and her eyes wet. Everything had been going so well, and now this. She blinked back the tears. She would not let Posco see her cry. All she needed was for him to understand. Then it would be all right.

brim

10-27-2004, 08:24 PM

Save for reworked post.

Please enable your Private Message function. Send me a Private Message (PM) when you have done so.

I need to send your post back, with some suggestions, to you to be redone.

You will need to have your PM's turned on if you intend to play in any games in the Shire.

Thanks!

~*~ piosseniel, Shire Moderator

elronds_daughter

10-28-2004, 07:26 AM

Alameth paused outside the inn and peered at the sign. “The Green Dragon,” she mused. “Reputable place, from all I’ve heard.” She tried to freshen her appearance, if only a little, before entering; but when she had finished, her golden hair still hung rather limp about her shoulders, and her green dress and cloak (which both looked more brown by now) were still hopelessly dirty. As she stepped in the door, she was practically assailed by smells of ale, food cooking, and pipe smoke. What she saw surprised her: in addition to the hobbits (who were nearly everywhere), there were many men and Elves. She was startled, but happy to see people of her own race after her long journey from her home in Rohan. It must have been a month since she had seen anyone besides hobbits! Not that she wasn’t fond of the little folk; who couldn’t be?

Alameth noted, especially, that two elves and a woman were conversing. A woman! She was nearly desperate for company of her own gender and race, so she decided to approach them. They looked friendly enough.
“Excuse me,” she said, taking advantage of a lull in their conversation. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I’ve been traveling a long time by myself, and I’d like to join you, if you wouldn’t mind.” She smiled hopefully.

Maeggaladiel

10-28-2004, 09:34 AM

Eleniel looked up at the newcomer; a human woman like herself. She was pleasantly suprised to find a traveller of her own race and gender here in the Shire.

"Of course," she said with a smile. "Have a seat! The more the merrier, as I always say! Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Eleniel of Laketown. These are my companions, the elves Soronume and Umwë."

Arrow perked his ears and wagged his tail as the woman approached.

"And this is my dog, Arrow." She finished. The dog sniffed the newcomer's hand and sat at her feet. "Don't mind him, he won't bite. He's just spoiled."

"So," Eleniel continued as she made room for the newcomer. "Where do you come from, friend?"

elronds_daughter

10-28-2004, 03:37 PM

Alameth smiled as the woman introduced herself, her companions, and her dog.
“Does he always take to strangers like this?” she asked, gesturing at the dog at her feet. “My name is Alameth. I come from Rohan. This is my first visit to the Shire.”

“And what brings you here?” she asked Eleniel. “Something important, I would assume.”

Maeggaladiel

10-28-2004, 03:44 PM

Eleniel laughed, and the dog's tail thumped loudly against the floor.

"Yes," she said. "He likes anyone who is capable of petting or feeding him."

She took another sip from her mug, wetting her throat before continuing.

"I'm here on business," she said. "I own a shop in Laketown, called The Raven's Nest. Arrow and I are on our annual trip to buy merchandise." She reached down and scratched the dog's silver ears.

"It's been a rather slow year for aquisitions," she continued. "But I never regret taking a trip. How about you, lady Alameth? What business brings you all the way from Rohan?"

elronds_daughter

10-29-2004, 02:11 PM

Alameth paused slightly before answering Eleniel’s question. “Not business, really, but it’s quite a long story,” she said. “I’ll try to be brief, but I’m known for running on and on with my tales.”

“You see, my father was killed in the War of the Ring; the battle of the Pelennor Fields, to be specific. My mother died of grief shortly after. My brother and I were left to fend for ourselves. I’m only nineteen, though you may think I look older, and I’ve never been more than five miles from Edoras. My brother challenged me to make this trip. He seems to think that just because I’m a woman, I don’t have the strength for such a journey.”

“I suppose I’ve proved him wrong now, but I must admit that I’m at a loss to know what to do next. I had hoped you might be able to help.”

Lalwendë

10-30-2004, 12:03 PM

After the tumble, which had left her feeling a little shaken, although she would never have admitted it, and the tears which she had felt rising in her eyes, Jinniver had felt in need of some comfort. Her first thought was to go to see that her faithful cart horse, Nutkin, was no worse off for the fright that the fighting cats had given him. He was safely back at the paddock, feasting on a bale of hay, and he only gave Jinniver the merest flicker of recognition. Regardless, she patted the old horse and then put her arms about his thick neck, more for her own comfort than his. He snorted at the interruption to his eating, and with a sigh, Jinniver patted him and walked away again.

Her spirits were low and she knew that no amount of hard work would shake off her mood. She realised that she needed a little time to herself, and seeing that she wouldn’t find any at the cottage, she decided to take a short walk down into Hobbiton.

***

Her cheeks red with the exercise and fresh air, Jinniver came back up the lane towards the Green Dragon. Her clothes were even dirtier from the dust on the road, but she wasn’t quite so concerned. A few travellers had passed her by who were wearing clothes that she could only describe as filthy. Some of them had looked like fine folk, and she thought to herself that what was good enough for them, must surely be good enough for her.

Even so, the little nagging voice which always told her to make a good impression could not be completely silenced. It was the voice of her mother, a fine woman who was as much of a lady as any woman could be, despite being a farmer’s wife. She had died a long time ago, ill for some years with ‘the pains‘ as she delicately put it. But even when ill, her mother had taken care to be clean and neat, and some had mistaken her for a woman of much higher status. She was always in the back of Jinniver’s mind, telling her to be sensible, to be respectable, to make the best of herself. And this was something which Jinniver, once she was grown and the dark days were over, was all too aware of.

The voice in her mind became quieter as the now familiar sight of the inn came into view. The hobbit lads were up to something, she could see, and this sight cheered her up. Her dark mood had long since melted away. The flowers she had seen in the hedgerows had played no small part in this, and she carried a bunch of them now as she walked back towards the cottage, smiling. Seeing one of the cats who had frightened Nutkin lazing in the sun at the side of the lane, she stopped to tickle his chin and rub his ears, his misdemeanour now forgotten.

Maeggaladiel

10-30-2004, 06:57 PM

Eleniel's smile dissappeared as Alameth told her story.

"I am sorry for your loss," she said. "The death of a loved one, especially a parent, can be unbearable." She looked away for a moment, silent. A moment later, however, the smile was back on her face.

"You said you thought I might be able to help you," she said. "Perhaps you're correct." She looked at Alameth. The girl was right; Eleniel never would have guessed she was only nineteen. So young for travelling all alone. Eleniel was only a few years older than Alameth was when she began traveling for The Raven's Nest, but her father had gone with her. Now she was older, but going alone still held its dangers.

"Do you intend to return to Rohan?" she asked Alameth. "Or do you wish to keep traveling? Either way, I'm sure I could help you." She had some coins in a purse, if Alameth needed funds to return home, she could donate. If Alameth needed direction, she could point her shoes in the right way. If she needed a travelling companion, Eleniel could fix that too. She wanted to help in any way she could.

elronds_daughter

10-30-2004, 07:19 PM

Alameth fidgeted. Eleniel was kind to offer help, having only met her moments before. But perhaps that was only because she had revealed her age. Or the fact that she no longer had any parents. She fidgeted again, but decided to take the offered help, whatever it might entail. "I would be happy for any help you could give."

"As I said, I am at quite a loss as to what I'll do next. I don't, however, have much a desire to go home quite yet. The only lands I've seen have been west of Anduin. Perhaps I could travel with you?" She looked down at the silver dog underneath the table. "From what you've told me of Arrow, I don't think he would mind having one more person to pamper him."

Hookbill the Goomba

10-31-2004, 10:04 AM

"What can we do?" said Fáinu to himself, "cursed and weekend. Never shall my eyes see aman. For I can but see a future of backend skies and mists that cloud all." He seemed to have killed the mood quite nicely. he had taken to muttering to himself in many of his previous misadventures. mostly dark forebodings, getting his thoughts in line and in order.

Cree had heard his words and did not seem to be pleased. he had so far done very little to suggest that he was even going to try to find happiness. She was almost giving up on him when he lifted his head. she saw all the sorrow and regret, and all his bitterness deeply embedded within his eyes.

"Dose any know what will happen?" he sighed, "will we all perish? or find bliss in Valinor? Who can tell? only Manwe and Varda. But I think we two have a part to play. and I believe that this part shall be played side by side. do you not agree?"

Maeggaladiel

11-01-2004, 10:48 AM

Eleniel laughed as Arrow wagged his tail.

"Oh no," she said. "I don't think he'd mind that at all."

She looked at Alameth for a moment, considering something.

"I suppose I COULD use some extra help," she mused to herself. She paused a moment to consider what this could mean. It would be nice to have someone to talk to who could actually answer. Alameth had already proven that she was capable of traveling long distances on her own, so Eleniel didn't need to worry about anything like that.

"Do you have a horse in the stables?" Eleniel asked. Since Alameth was from Rohan, Eleniel could assume that she had some experience with horses. That could be useful. "If not, do you know how to ride or saddle one?"

elronds_daughter

11-02-2004, 09:59 AM

“Yes,” Alameth said. “I have a horse. He’s in the stables.”

She thought about what travelling with Eleniel might be like. She would have someone to talk to; she would certainly learn new things, see new places. Who knew? This would probably be a good experience for her. Being only nineteen had its limitations. It would be good to get to know someone older and wiser.

When she had left Rohan, Alameth had not been entirely sure of herself. This time she was. She would learn everything she possibly could while travelling with Eleniel, and try to be a help to her.

Maeggaladiel

11-02-2004, 10:42 AM

"Well then," said Eleniel, rubbing her palms together. "I don't see any reason why you couldn't join us when we leave the Green Dragon. I warn you, however, that I don't intend to leave right away; I have some business to take care of here. Does that bother you?"

She rose from her chair and walked over to the bar, refilling her mug.

"Are you hungry, Alameth?" she asked. "I happen to know that the Green Dragon has an excellent cook."

On her return to the table, Eleniel cast a questioning glance at her elven companions, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during her exchange with Alameth.

elronds_daughter

11-03-2004, 10:28 AM

"Yes," Alameth said to Eleniel. "I am a little hungry." Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat since that morning.

"I don’t mind if you don’t move on right away," she continued. "I hadn’t considered staying, but I don’t mind." She saw Eleniel give a pointed look to the Elves at the table. They had been rather quiet. She wondered if that was normal for them.

Alameth looked at them too. "Now," she said, "that I’ve told you as much about myself as I can briefly, won’t you tell me about yourselves?"

Maeggaladiel

11-04-2004, 10:27 AM

Eleniel brought Alameth some lunch and sat down beside her.

"How rude of me," she said. "I've barely introduced myself. Well, as I've told you before, I own a shop in Laketown called The Raven's Nest. It belongs... well, it BELONGED to my father, and he left it to me when he passed away.

"I grew up in Laketown, not far from the docks where the elves of Eryn Lasgalen come to trade. All the children used to spy on the elves, hiding behind stacks of barrels as the elves bartered with the humans for wine and other goods. We thought they were magical. I suppose those days sparked my desire to travel, to see the realms where elves lived in their forest palaces and the plains where the Rohirrim rode on their mighty horses.

"When my father bought the shop, he would go out searching for merchandise while my mother and I ran the storefront, along with a young man my father hired. That was many years ago, when I was very young and my mother was still alive. She taught me how to sell things and how to do math for inventory and sales.

"She died a few winters later of sickness. Her last gift to me was Arrow here." She paused, looking fondly down at the silver dog searching for crumbs under the table. She sombered. "He was a birthday present. Somehow I think she knew she was going to die. She told me that he was to be my dearest friend and would watch over me when she could not." She scratched his pointed ears.

"Then it was just me and father. He would go searching for goods, leaving me alone with the shop. It hurt to be there by myself; I was constantly turning around, expecting my mother to be standing at the counter with a smile on her face. Finaly, after much begging and pleading, father let me come with him on his travels. After that, I just knew that I was meant to be on the road. I loved it; there was always something new to see or learn, every day was an adventure. From that year forward, father let me come with him, teaching me how to aquire merchandise and survive on the road. I've been travelling ever since."

She smiled.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" she asked. It felt good to be talking to someone who could respond. Arrow was her dearest friend, but 'woof' isn't much of a conversation.

Amanaduial the archer

11-04-2004, 03:37 PM

Aman regarded Tobias silently for a moment, her eyes troubled, before she turned with a sigh to look out the window, her arms crossed at her chest. Tobias sagged wearily, hanging his head. "I knew you wouldn't believe me, Aman," he began, sadly. "I suppose I can thank you for not-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Tobias," Aman snapped in reply, turning her head so that her sharp profile, made sharper by anxiety, was outlined by the afternoon light which shone blithely at odds to the tense air in the room. Silence reined in the room for a few minutes as the Innkeeper looked silently out of the large window, and when she spoke, her voice was soft, but slightly dangerous. "Why did you not tell me before, Tobias?"

As a privately educated hobbit, Tobias had experienced from many a-tutor that actually, disappointment is far worse than screaming rage. In fact, compared to the quiet disappointment in the Innkeeper's voice, Tobias would have preferred screaming rage much better. He didn't reply, looking glum. Aman sighed and turned around, her head outline by a halo of light until the pulled her hair out and ran the fingers of one hand through in distractedly as she looked at Tobias. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, then came forward to where the hobbit was sitting, with Snaveling standing silently by, a darksome guardian angel. She poured out a glass of fine red port from the decanter beside the chair and, to Toby's surprise, handed it to him. She offered Snaveling some, but he declined, and so took the crystal glass herself, but did not drink from it: she knew she was going to need a clear head, and would soon need to get the Thain's mens' heads most clouded indeed if she was to pull this off for Toby.

"Absolution..." she murmured softly, sinking into a chair and speculatively rubbing the rim of the glass gently round and round. She sat forward suddenly. "Have you told this Opal that you did not kill your cousin?"

Toby shook his head vehemently. "Oh, no, no, no. I have not talked to my dear sister for some time: once she exposed my crimes, I fled, and so you find me with not a penny to my wretched name."

"Oh, Tobias, don't talk like that: I quite believe that it wasn't deliberate and therefore doesn't count as a crime." She paused, then conceded: "Well, not such a severe one anyway."

"But that's just the thing, Aman!" Toby wailed, apparently snapping. "It doesn't matter one snip that I didn't know: Lotho Sackville Baggins didn't know and look where that got him!"

"I don't think that is quite the same thing-"

"He's right, Aman. Ignorance is no defence, or else everyone would be using it." Snaveling spoke for the first time in a few minutes, his voice sombre, and Aman looked up sharply, before looking back at Toby again, shrugging into her seat a little further. "Oh, I suppose you are right... But Toby, your sister...surely if you talked to her...?"

"Talked to her?" Toby snorted desolately. "I don't think so, Aman. Talking isn't something Opal does awfully well: screaming, finger-pointing and sniping she has down to a fine art, but talking...not so much. As I said, not much love has been lost between us over the years."

"Aye, but she is your sister, Toby." She paused, still circling the rim with a finger ruminatively, her brow furrowing as a thought grew. "I don't know, it just seems rather...sudden, you know."

There was a pause. "Twenty years ago...?" Toby began cautiously. Aman waved it away. "No, no. I mean Opal's sudden detective ability coming out against you: it seems rather sudden, after all these years..." She paused again, and realisation suddenly dawned on Toby.

"You think she was trying to set it up against me?"

Aman didn't move. Toby hesitated, then shook his head, sinking back into his chair as he rubbed his forehead. "No...no. Sure, what reason would she have other than, well, to take me down for the crimes which I did commit?"

Aman raised an eyebrow. "Well...you're not badly off economically, Toby," she replied frankly.

Toby hesitated, then shook his head again, still justifying it in his head. "No..."

Aman sighed, then leant forward towards Toby. "Tobias Hornblower, no matter what the case may be, we need to get this sorted one way or that other, and there really is only that one way: sooner rather than later, we need to pay your dear sister a visit."

Witch_Queen

11-05-2004, 10:07 AM

Cree didn't know how to answer Fáinu's question. "Fáinu we will perish when the time is come for us both to leave. I hope never to leave your side. May we both find bliss in Valinor or find bliss some where in this world." Cree's heart was beating heard in her chest. She wasn't sure now what would happen to her. Another year of her life was about to be over with and she had already lost too much in this year. Avalon was beyond her reach. She had allowed her only true friend to go away from her for a while.

"Who knows what will become of us? No one can truly tell what will occur in the future. The only thing we can do is set back and watch as the world crumbles at out feet. There is nothing we can do but perhaps help the world and attempt to keep it from coming to an end before we are ready to accept out fate." Her words echoed in her mind. She knew that Fáinu had heard her. She tried to force a smile but wasn't able to disguise her despair very well.

Hookbill the Goomba

11-05-2004, 10:24 AM

"In life, all that we have may be given up. And so in death, we receive it." Fáinu seemed to be looking to something far off. Almost as if he was looking over the horizon. "That was what an old friend of mine told me. A man of Númenorian blood he was and much he could see in the hearts of others."

Cree looked up and saw that he seemed to have changed in mind, less the ragged worn shadow he had been, and more like his former self. It seemed a shadow had departed and he was now thinking clearly. Much she marvel over this, as it seemed that he had been wandering in another world, trying to escape some fate, but now he had embraced it and was set free.

"Nought that hath happened to thee shall be in vain," he said, "Soon, thou shalt see all that thou hast done, has been working towards a greater victory. Dost thou not see the flame in thine own heart?" Cree was lost, his words were strange, and she did not follow his meaning. "Much valour is within you, Cree. Forget not that, for soon you shall see it. The death of your father was not the fault of thee, know that in your heart."

Then, the shadow seemed to return to Fáinu's appearance. He lost the majesty in his face and his words became less clear. He sat back in his chair and placed a hand on the table. it was his wounded hand. Cree thought she could see smoke coming from beneath the bandages, but when she looked again, it was normal.

"Nothing is lost forever," Fáinu said quietly to himself, "The day will come when all shall be clear."

elronds_daughter

11-05-2004, 04:58 PM

Alameth silently ate the lunch Eleniel had brought her while Eleniel told her about herself. The food was good. Better than what she'd had at other inns along the way, in fact.

Eleniel's question rang in her ears: "Is there anything else you'd like to know?" She wanted to know everything. How long Eleniel had been taking trips to find merchandise for her shop; how many years she had owned it; what it was like to own a shop like that; who she left in charge of the shop while she was gone, or if she just closed it. But it would never do to ask all these at once.

"What is it like?" she asked. "Owning a shop, I mean. How long have you had it? And what do you sell there? Everything? Oh, dear," Alameth regretted asking so many questions. "I got quite ahead of myself. I only meant to ask one question, and there I go asking three. I hope you don't mind. I've always been plagued with curiosity. Mother used to say it would be my undoing...." Her voice trailed off at the thought of her mother. Even after twelve years, it was still difficult to think of her without getting a tear in her eye.

She snapped herself out of her reverie. It would do no good to cry in front of three people. Eleniel might be sympathetic, but she wasn't sure about the elves.

"But so far," she said with a smile, "my curiosity has only helped. It has dwindled somewhat since I was six, but as you can tell, I still haven't been able to quench it."

Fordim Hedgethistle

11-07-2004, 09:58 PM

“I do not think that such a wise idea, Aman.”

Snaveling was the first to break the long silence that had fallen upon the friends. The Innkeeper looked surprised to hear him speak – or rather, she appeared to be surprised by the condescending tone that he had used with her. Snaveling modulated his approach somewhat, reminding himself that he had not yet had a chance to speak with the girl about her feelings, and about the hopelessness of her love for him. There was, however, no such time for that conversation now. Toby’s situation commanded their immediate attention.

Turning his attention to his friend, Snaveling crouched down before the Halfing and placed his hand upon the fellow’s small shoulder. “Toby,” he said quietly. “Do you have any hope that your sister would be willing to listen to your explanation?” Toby merely shook his head mutely. Snaveling sighed and rose once more to face Aman. “You see, he knows his sister better than we, and even Tobias despairs of her impartiality. Besides, what matter if we could convince her of Tobias’s story, his guilt has already been proclaimed by the Thain, and Toby himself has admitted to having collaborated with the invaders.”

Aman made to protest but Toby prevented her. “No no, mistress, do not try to absolve me of this. Snaveling speaks true. I did not put the knife into my cousin, but I whetted the blade for sure. If it had not been for me…”

“Enough!” the girl cried, and to Snaveling’s surprise there were tears in her eyes as she spoke. “I won’t hear any more of this! You did nothing wrong, Toby. At least, nothing that many others who are free and guiltless, and easy in their conscience, also did during those terrible days. And you,” she said, whirling upon the Man, “you, who have received the mercy and the justice of the King. For you to counsel despair now…it is senseless. Why would you deny your friend the same chance that was afforded yourself?”

“For the simple reason, dear lady, that I was given justice by the King Elessar, while Toby here is dependent upon the whim of a ridiculous family and…” he caught himself, and looked quickly at Toby. Seeing this, Aman’s face grew hard and she spoke venom at him.

“Nay, Master Snaveling, do not silence yourself on our account. Say what thoughts are in your mind.”

“I do not think them worth the utterance,” he replied coldly. “We should cease this wrangling and look to the matter at hand.”

But the Innkeeper was not to be put off so easily. She had recovered her usual composure and stepping close to Snaveling she looked at him evenly. “I agree, but this matter is important. If Toby is going to rely upon our help, he should know how we feel about the people who control his fate. You were about to offer up an opinion about the Thain of the Shire, I believe.”

Snaveling’s eyes grew cold and hard. He stood tall and in his voice there was iron. “Are you sure you wish to pursue this matter, Aman? Be warned, for it shall pain you and Tobias more than ever it shall pain me!”

Toby now spoke up. So rapt had the man and woman been in each other that they had almost forgotten the ragged gentlehobbit, sitting quietly in his armchair. “Snaveling,” he said gravely, “if you have something to say about my Thain, I wish to hear it.” Snaveling and Aman looked at Toby in wonderment, for in his voice there was a dignity and a reserve the like of which they had but rarely seen in him. “Please,” he said again simply. “For the sake of our old friendship – what is it that you would say about my people?”

Snaveling withdrew from Aman and Toby somewhat, into the shadows of the darker corner. Drawing himself upright he spoke with a distant tone. “Very well. You would know what I think of this Thain and of his officers. Then hear: I have heard the tales of the Halflings who came to my King’s aid during the War, and while I believe those stories, I cannot believe that the valour ascribed to these folk is at all earned. From what I have seen the denizens of this land are a silly, foolish lot, and I would rather that Toby not trust to what little wisdom can be found here. This Thain of Toby’s has clearly been misled by a stupid woman. If Toby is to take my counsel he will leave this land and come with me to the south, where he can be free of these ridiculous folk for good!”

Maeggaladiel

11-08-2004, 09:53 AM

Eleniel smiled at Alameth's flood of questions.

"Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of," she said. "Indeed, where would we be if not for curiosity? We'd have no art, no inventions.

"Well, to answer your first question, owning a shop is both a pleasure and a curse. It's a lot of work-- inventory, accounting and whatnot-- but for me it's well worth the effort. Income changes depending on the market, obviously; if people are safe, economically sound, and have time on their hands, then business is good. If we're under attack or are suffering from financial hardship, then my shop gets fewer customers. Right now, things aren't going as well as expected; we're still suffering from last spring's flood. It washed out a bridge and flooded nearby farms, and Laketown is still repairing damages. I suppose that's the downside of living on a river. If the snow melts too quickly, we all end up swimming to work. That means people have less time or money to buy anything other than food or building supplies.

"Obviously things would get a bit difficult to manage while I'm out searching for merchandise, so I've hired a few people to run things while I'm gone. Otherwise I'd have to close shop for several months. Not very good for business.

"I sell a little of everything; I try to gather things from all across Middle Earth to interest the people of Laketown as well as visitors. Clothing, weaponry, pottery, jewlery, sweets, musical instruments, quill pens and everything in between."

She took a sip of her ale.

"I've told you a bit about my life," she said. "What about yours? What is it like in Rohan? I've visited there a few times, but only for a few days. Where do you live?"

Envinyatar

11-08-2004, 02:54 PM

It was late afternoon by the time Derufin came down from the roof. The tar was set, the shingling in place. He was certain he’d been thorough, but the next rain would be the judge of it. It was quiet in the house below, the lads had finished as much as they could for the day. The extra room was done and painted, as was the rest of house. Ferdy had finished the cabinets and put them back. Now all that awaited was the paint to dry and the hardware put onto the doors and drawers.

Andwise was just finishing up the front door. He plied his soft brush over it, removing the wood shavings and fine dust in the creases of the carvings. ‘As a last touch, he took the soft handkerchief from his back pocket and rubbed away with a touch of saliva a spot or two of dirt. ‘Here,’ he said, motioning for the man to come give a hand. ‘Let’s stand this up on the porch beneath the eaves.’

The two muscled the heavy oak door up the few steps and stood it against the porch wall next to the doorway. Andwise took the handkerchief in hand and wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘What say we go for a pint,’ said Derufin, as he inspected the door. ‘The lads are already there, I’m sure. and we can get them to help us put the door on a little later.’ He clapped the Hobbit on the back, nodding with his head toward the Dragon.

piosenniel

11-08-2004, 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, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn (played by Envinyatar)

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

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

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.

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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

11-08-2004, 02:59 PM

It is now late afternoon in the Shire.

The sun is still shining.

But, the wind has picked up; there are clouds blowing in from the West.

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

NOTE: A small rainstorm may be brewing up . . .

Amanaduial the archer

11-08-2004, 03:14 PM

Oh that I could travel with you, Aman yearned silently. I grow tired of seeing all who come pass, and the shadow of discontent has passed once too many times across my mind. But would you take me, Master Snaveling? Such a fine beast, that beautiful black steed, surely may be taken as some hint...

Foolish girl, Aman. His heart lies in the South.

As does mine...

Not the Innkeeper's thoughts towards Snaveling were quite so easy dwelling on such things at the moment. "'Free of this ridiculous folk'?"

Aman's throat was dry when she repeated the words and she cast a sharp glance at Toby, to see him wearing a weary, wry smile. Tobias shook his head and looked as if to speak in the same weary manner that his expression bore, but Aman jumped in first, standing suddenly and taking a step towards Snaveling. "Master Snaveling, there is nothing in the world worse than being isolated from your own people, especially when it is not at your own choice: exiled from all your knew and believed and grew up with. I would expect you to understand, Snaveling, for was it not you who was reunited with your people recently? Of course, the court of Elessar was not where you grew up, but they are your people, your kin - you were welcomed and are still welcomed - because they are your people. The Halflings are different from the men of the South, a different race, a different land, a wholy different way of living: you may not agree with their customs, their ways, their leadership, but these people are Tobias's people. And I would not for one second have him forced away from them against his will, exiled and never to return. And as his friend, I would expect that you would not either."

There was a silence after the almost-challenge as Aman, though rather more diminuitive in height than Snaveling, faced him nonetheless eye to eye, almost quivering with passion. And in that moment, Aman saw something change in the man's expression, the flash of passion soften to a sort of tenderness - but it was not a look that Aman liked, far too akin as it was to the condescending tone he had earlier used. And she knew that it was nothing to do with Toby.

"Of course I am his friend." Snaveling replied coldly.

"I...I did not mean to insinuate that you were not," Aman wavered. "It...oh, gods' fire, this is ridiculous." She half turned away, a hand to her forehead, before she turned back to Snaveling, crossing her arms. "This is quite beside the point and I am so het up about this that...I made the point because quite simply that is how I feel. No one should be taken from their people against their will, and this exile would be pressured - do you honestly think Toby would never wish to return to the Shire? Toby?" She turned to the hobbit.

Toby sagged slightly, then sat forward on his seat, his hairy feet swinging slightly, a few centimetres as they were off the ground, as he stared pensively into space. After a moment, he spoke, slowly and thoughtfully. "Would I miss the Shire for itself? Who knows. But I do know that if I was never to be allowed back, I would most certainly yearn for it all the more."

Snaveling nodded slowly, and Aman did the same as she returned to her chair and her untouched glass of port which she contemplated taking a quick gulp of to calm herself, and contented herself with swilling it gloomily. Snaveling returned to his perch behind Tobias' chair, seeming to prefer it to one of the two spare armchairs which were still absent beside Aman's and Tobias'. Breaking the moody silence, Aman said, "For the meantime, we must think of some short time resolution of hiding Tobias. You cannot stay forever in the stables, Mr. Hornblower," she added, a small smile gracing her slight features. "The question is where..." she sat forward suddenly, clicking her fingers and almost spilling the port across her dress in the process. "The Thain's men - and whatever opinions we may differ on over the nature of the Thain himself, I think we can both agree that such a trio of bumbling fools with assumed authority has not been seen since the Scouring - but they said that they had a warrant to check everywhere in the Inn 'except my own personal chambers'." She paused, looking from one to the other excitedly. "They cannot check my own rooms - and besides, only I have to key to this one, although there is a spare key to my chambers."

Tobias shifted a little uncomfortably. "With all respect, Aman...locked in here?"

Aman noted the gentlehobbit's discomfort with the idea - reasonable worry, she supposed, from such a lifelong rogue. Though not a criminal, she ammended hastily. She inclined her head. "It would seem the only way - do not worry, Toby, only I would have the key and none other would get their hands on it. No one will corner you in here. And there really is only one other place good enough."

"Dare I ask...?" Tobias probed, in a tone of voice that said he highly suspected that he shouldn't.

"The roof. Well, exactly, your friend Snaveling never had much enthusiasm for it either," she agreed as Toby recoiled from the idea. "But there is only one key, and with me it shall stay. But...Toby, on a more long term scale, I would press the idea that you should meet your sister." She held up a hand as Tobias went white and Snaveling started to protest. "Abominable or not, my dear friend, she is the only one who can change this situation."

Rising, she entrusted the glass of port to Snaveling as she passed him and excused herself. "If you will excuse me gentlemen, I must go and play my part of good, and rather stupid, Innkeeper of the finest Inn around for this 'ridiculous' folk." She looked to Toby, her green eyes straight and direct as her hand hesitated on the door handle. "Toby, I would advise you to think on it."

And with that, she was gone, back into the whirl of the Green Dragon, all smiles and shouts and hidden thoughts.

Arry

11-09-2004, 04:19 AM

The wind was growing chill as they walked to the Inn. Thick clouds scudded across the sky, making the afternoon seem colder as they obscured the western sun. Andwise and Derufin quickened their steps, anticipating that soon there would be rain. And, indeed, even as they closed the Inn’s kitchen door behind them, the fat drops had begun to fall.

‘Don’t you be tracking mud or dirt on my floors, Misters,’ Cook said as she stopped them at the entrance, her wooden spoon pointing to the rough woven mat spread out beneath their feet. Dutifully the two, wiped their feet and boots thoroughly before daring the clean, oak wood floor. Satisfied, Cook directed them to the large kitchen sink to wash up. Like schoolboys they waited her approval, which she gave with a quick nod of her head, before they passed through the kitchen’s swinging doors and into the common room.

Aman stood behind the bar, pulling the handle on the ale keg with a practiced ease as she held several half pint mugs with one hand and filled then brimming to the top one after the other in a quick arc. Buttercup was there, waiting with a large serving tray. The weather had driven a great many into the comfort of the Inn, and all of them, it seemed, were thirsty. Giving a wink to the Innkeeper, Derufin grabbed two of the pint mugs and handed one to Andwise. The Hobbit led the way to a table near the fireplace, close enough that they might put up their legs and warm their feet on the hearth.

Pipes were got out, and filled, tamped, and lit. The little ritual conducted in silence until the satisfied ‘ahh’ of exhalation after the first pull at the pipestem. Mugs were raised, and good wishes made to the other. They fell then, in companionable quiet, to looking about the room at the other patrons. The survey punctuated by sips of good brown ale and the fiddling with one’s pipe that is the main part of the art of smoking.

Buttercup brought them a small plate of ham with cheddar and pickle rolls to stave off any hunger pangs until supper would be served. Andwise helped himself to one, along with a refill to his mug, then pushed the plate cross the table to Derufin. He was feeling quite relaxed at the moment, his tongue loosened with the Dragon’s brew. The usual veil of reserve had been rent a bit, and he found himself inclined to talk.

He looked over the top of his mug with a recollective twinkle in his eye, and nodded his head at Derufin. ‘I remember the day my missus and I were handfasted,’ he said, chuckling at the man. ‘Lovely party. All the family there and half the Shire, or so it seemed. Nearly ate us out of house and home. Thank goodness the ladies had brought loads of meats and breads and cheeses and desserts . . . all trying to outdo the other, of course,' he confided . . . 'and the Inn had given a barrel or so of ale to quench the thirsty horde.’ He took a long pull at his mug and waved at Buttercup to bring the pitcher. ‘And music,’ he went one. ‘A small group of local lads played for us on the lawn round the Party Tree. We danced, my missus and I, until our feet were blistered.’

‘Sounds good to me!’ laughed Derufin, taking the pitcher of ale from Buttercup and setting it on the table. She raised her brows at him, saying, ‘Best you be able to walk to your room, Master Stabler. You’re too big for us poor Hobbits. We’ll just throw a blanket over you wherever you fall if you get too wobbly from the drink!’ She grinned as she spoke, then went on her way.

‘Now when the night had grown long,' Andwise went on, 'we bid the guests goodnight and went off to our own snug little bed . . . thinking to settle down. Our poor tired heads had barely touched the pillows when the awfullest racket you can imagine began just outside our window . . .’ Andwise paused to relight his pipe and wet his throat before continuing on.

Derufin’s brow puckered. He leaned across the table, wondering what sort of beast had laid siege to the house.

‘No beast,’ returned the Hobbit, chortling; the memory of throwing open the shutters to confront caterwauling making him laugh aloud. ‘It was the shivaree! We’d forgot all about it, we had!’ His laughter stopped short at the perplexed look on Derufin’s face. ‘You’ve heard of it? The shivaree? You've that custom where you’re from, right?’

Lalwendë

11-09-2004, 09:59 AM

The wind was in the west and Jinniver felt sure there was a rainstorm approaching. The leaves on the trees were turning their pale undersides to face into the breeze, and it was common knowledge to farmers around Bree that the trees only did this if it were going to rain. Turning to face the west for a moment, as though she could somehow see the rain coming herself, Jinniver frowned. She hurried to fasten her freshly washed clothes to a line, hastily contrived from some of the twine from her pocket belt, and hung in the shelter of the trees behind the old cottage, where rain could not spoil them.

This was the most sheltered spot she could find, and she was anxious that the long tunics she normally wore dried quickly, for she had been forced into wearing her best dress and she felt very self conscious. It was a beautiful thing, cut trom a thick silk of a rich buttermilk colour. The neck, hem and long sleeves were trimmed with a deep line of green and gold braid, and the silk fabric was overlaid with a fine, faint pattern of leaves.

Jinniver was anxious about damaging the dress as it was such a beautiful garment and she began to wonder why she had even brought it with her. It was a fanciful notion that had made her do so; that The Shire might be a place where the hobbits were all fine folk, the kind who would not dream of buying from a rustic, plainly dressed woman. She had nursed this idea since the end of the troubles many years back, and despite what her father and brother had told her to the contrary, she had brought it along anyway. In her opinion, it was always best to be prepared. But now she knew the folk in the Green Dragon, she felt a little embarrassed about sitting down to supper with them dressed in such a manner.

Something else embarrassed her. And this was that she was all too aware that the dress was not loose fitting like her tunics and breeches. It had been given her many years ago, when she was to be married, and in those younger years she was not at all as self conscious as she was now. But she knew there was little she could do about it unless she wanted to hide in her bedchamber all evening and go hungry. And besides, how was she to hang out her washed clothes if she had nothing else to wear.

Sighing to herself, she had put the dress on, and immediately tried to cover it with an old shawl she took from the bottom of her travelling bag. It was threadbare but it was large, and she wrapped it tightly about her shoulders, covering up as much of herself as she could manage. The cook had smirked when she appeared in the kitchens, shrouded in the old shawl and hunched over, shyly asking if she might borrow some hot water and soap to do her laundry. Jinniver had scuttled away quickly, clutching the shawl tightly around her shoulders, and made for the back of the barn so she might do the washing unobserved.

She heard cheerful voices going towards the inn as she stood beneath the trees, and thoughts of supper and ale, a blazing fire and good company, made her hasten with her chore. When she was done, she took up her pocket belt which she had left on the ground. She carried it in her hand, in case any grime from it rubbed onto her skirts; she pulled the shawl tighter as the breeze, which was getting colder, caught it. As she was halfway to the inn, she was sure she felt raindrops.

Witch_Queen

11-09-2004, 10:13 AM

Fáinu's words seemed heartless and without emotions. Cree couldn't even attempt a smile because his words went right through her heart like a knife through warm butter. She placed her hand over the bandages of her friend. "Fáinu, that day is now. Do not sit around and let life itself pass you by, if not for be but for yourself. You are so swallowed up in self pity that death could be knocking at your door but he only turns away because deep down in your soul NO ONE IS HOME!" Cree didn't know why she was being so mean to Fáinu. All he had done to her was leave her and deny her everything she ever wanted.

Since she had let Avalon go for some reason Cree found it more irritating to listen as others drown themselves in sorrow and self pity. She would rather spend the rest of her life in Valinor than watch the world kill itself. Her time to take a stand was now. She wasn't going to allow anything to pass her by. In a matter of only moments and hours Cree had changed from a love sick "child" to an elf full of ambition.

"Fáinu, I still care about you despite the fact that you still refuse to accept your destiny. I will always care about you even when you have pushed me away." Cree feared only one thing now and that was that Fáinu would abandon her when she needed him the most. Cree didn't want to leave his side ever, even if her life was to end tomorrow.

elronds_daughter

11-09-2004, 11:17 AM

Alameth laughed. “Yes,” she said, “floods would be a disadvantage of living on a lake.”

She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Tell you about my life, eh? There really isn’t much to tell. My home is very near Edoras, and I’ve been there many times; but as I said, up till now I haven’t been more than ten miles from there. But Rohan truly is beautiful. The plains, the Entwash, even Fangorn Forest; though I wouldn’t recommend getting too close. The trees can be a bit hostile. And Meduseld! On a day when the sun shines, there is nothing in Middle-Earth can compare to that.”

Amanaduial the archer

11-09-2004, 01:14 PM

"The shivaree?" Aman laughed as she picked up the Derufin's glass and re-filled it with some fine dark stout from the pitcher she was carrying. Looking at Andwise across the table as she set down the glass again, she wrinkled her nose curiously. "What's the shivaree?"

Andwise stared at her, eyebrows raised. "You don't...ah, well, fill my glass, Innkeeper, and I shall educate you both!"

Lalwendë

11-09-2004, 02:32 PM

Trying to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, Jinniver walked into the inn, closing the door quietly behind her, and slipped into a place at the end of Andwise and Derufin's table. After arranging herself so she was almost hidden by the table, she nodded to them both and set about the business of filling her pipe.

Aman appeared near the table, bearing a large pitcher of stout. Jinniver savoured the smell and tried to catch Aman's eye. She longed for a drink. Aman was cheerily talking with Derufin, and Jinniver could not but help hear the word 'shivaree' mentioned, as Aman's voice rose sharply as she said it. She had no idea what this might be, but a chill went down her spine, and she leaned forwards, hoping to hear a good story.

Hookbill the Goomba

11-09-2004, 02:35 PM

Fáinu smirked, slightly in content at the words "Self pity". A shadow seemed to have come across his face and his words seemed dark and filled with madness.

"I have no pity for myself," he said, "What use is there that way? I merely can see nothing for me. I care not. It is for thee, that I care. Fore I perceive that you’re intent on being by my side, may lead you to a peril too great for thine heart to withstand." Cree seemed wrathful, as if about to stand and cast a drinking vestal at him, but he fixed her with a stern look, and she did not move. He had more yet to say.

"You may say that you shall never leave my side. Not even if death takes you. I have seen many use such words, and later wish they had not. I wish you to take caution, not to be rash. Keep a sane mind, do not let you’re regret take hold of you, like mine has me." Cree did not know what to say. She stared at him, he did not seem to be the same elf she had been talking to earlier. He had changed, his voice was different, and he seemed to be looking at another world.

"You came hither to seek Manstarmin," said Fáinu, he defiantly did not seem himself, "Ye thought him alive when thou saw me. But I tell you now that he is dead. Nothing shall bring him back!" he stopped and breathed heavily. The shadow passed, and again, Fainu sat in the Green dragon. Cree was opposite him and did not seem best pleased. She seemed half frightened and half amazed at what he had said.

Fáinu turned his head and looked from the window. a light breeze seemed to be blowing, several hobbit children ran past the inn. Cree leant forward as if to say something, but she stopped and looked down.

"Do you not see?" said Fáinu, "The dragon's curse has held us both. Madness took me, you must forgive me. I knew not what I was saying. I must get some air." He got to his feet and stepped out of the inn. However, the sun was not shining down as he had exspected, but the cool breeze helped relax Fáinu's mind. The rain pattered against his hair and cooled him off.

piosenniel

11-09-2004, 02:47 PM

Please Note:

It has clouded over in the Shire and is raining.

starkat

11-09-2004, 05:41 PM

Gwenneth and Ginger entered the Inn and shook the rain out of their hair. The young elf maid lightly shook the two boquets she was holding. "I am going to go find Aman."

Seeing Ginger's surprised look, Gwenneth laughed softly. "I made a second boquet for Cook." The elf pushed a boquet into Ginger's hands. "Why don't you take it to her?" Her voice softened, "May I meet you back here? I would be glad to help with something else."

Angel_Queen

11-10-2004, 10:22 AM

Ravon looked around it had been awhile since she had been back in the inn. Lewis and her bought a little house in the Shire and hadn't thought about going back to the inn until a few days ago. Ravon was happier now that she didn't have to worry about Cree or her home. After all her home was where ever Lewis was. Right now that was the Shire. With Lewis she was happy unlike she was so long ago. Ravon hadn't seen Lewis all day and was getting worried that he wasn't anywhere to be found. She saw Cree setting alone and what seemed to be trouble written in her eyes. She hadn't talked to Cree in so long and decided a few more minutes wouldn't matter.

Ravon noticed that Cree didn't have Avalon with her. Suddenly worried about what had happened to Cree's friend she walked over to find out. "Cree where is Avalon?" Cree looked up and told Ravon about how she had gotten rid of Avalon so the crow could live its life free from the worries of Cree's curse. Ravon felt sorry for Cree but wouldn't let it show. She turned as she heard the front door open. Lewis was there. Avoiding everyone's way, Ravon ran to meet Lewis before he could get away from her. "It is good to see you my love." There was a smile on her face that seemed to go from ear to ear. She was only happy with him and no one else. "You said you had a surprise for me. Where is it?" Ravon had her hand over the ring she had given Lewis when they had met so long ago. The ring only made Ravon feel that much more love from Lewis.

Deep down inside, though her feelings hid it, Ravon was afraid of one thing. She didn't want to losse Lewis to anyone or anything. But Ravon knew she would eventually loose him to death. Though she figured with his death would be her own.

Nurumaiel

11-10-2004, 10:17 PM

Posco had said nothing but, "Oh," when Lily had told him about Tommy Banks, and he had smiled at her in an encouraging manner to show that it did not affect him very much, and then he had fallen silent. This silence was one that Lily did not endeavour to break. She sat there, at the table, watching him, and gazing down at the wood, and looking out the window, and some time had gone by. Eventually Posco had spoken again, and a friendly, common-place conversation began, which led to other conversations, which in turn led to other conversations, and time slipped by easily.

And now it was late afternoon, and the two stood by the window, looking ruefully out at the raining weather. "I'm afraid I rambled on too long, Lily," said Posco, "and now our ride is spoiled. We should have gone earlier."

"Oh, don't be concerning yourself about it," she said, her voice cheerful though her face did betray her disappointment at the inability to spend another afternoon riding with Posco. "Imagine if we had left before the rain began: we would not be hear, warm and dry. Granted, we're disappointed about the ride, but we should be warm and dry, rather than caught in a storm."

"Maybe," said Posco, and while his tone giving the impression that he was speaking to himself, the glances he gave her out of the corner of his eye made it clear that he was addressing the girl at his side. "In fact, absolutely correct. Maybe it will keep storming tomorrow, so you'll be unable to go home. You do mean to go home tomorrow?"

"I think so," she said, softly.

"If you do leave tomorrow, Lily, so will I, and I will return to my own home, though - " and here his eyes glinted fiercely " - if this Tommy Banks poses a real threat to your affections for me, and mine for you, I'll ride all the way to Bree and thrash him."

She could not help but laugh at this. The idea of the shy, timid Posco thrashing Tommy Banks was one very amusing. But aside from the laughable image of himself he presented, he also presented the fact that he did love her, and this fact was, in a sense, reinforced by his next words. Turning to her in the shy, blushing, determined manner he always adopted when he was about to make a request of her, he said: "Miss Lily, I hope you'll allow me to help you saddle your pony, and help you prepare to leave in any manner that would be of use, and then let me ride alongside you for a time to make sure you are safely on your way."

SonOfBombadil

11-10-2004, 10:36 PM

Lewis paced back and forth in front of the inn. It was raining, and he was soaked, but he didn't mind. All his mind on was the suprise he was going to tell Ravon. Well, he thought, This is it.

Lewis ascended the steps and entered the Green Dragon Inn. The warmth and cover of the building brought comfort to him. He was just hanging his coat, when he felt a familiar embrace. "It is good to see you my love." Ravon's voice was music to Lewis' ears, and it caused him to smile big. He gave no verbal reply, but wrapped his arms around Ravon in a big bear hug. Ravon spoke first. "You said you had a surprise for me. Where is it?" Lewis chuckled, "Is this why you came running for me? Because you knew I had a suprise for you?" A quick smile and mock-offense was her reply.

"Here, let's sit down," Lewis said as he led Ravon to a table. They sat down and Lewis grabbed both of Ravon's hands in his and looked into her captivating eyes. "Well first I should explain where I've been all day. Remember how I told you my Father is a blacksmith? Well I was looking for tools so that I could start a small smithy out of our house, so that I could support us while we're in the Shire." Lewis paused to let Ravon speak. "Alright, did you find anything?" she asked. "Yes, I found a retired old hobbit that is willing to sell me his old tools for a small price." "That's wonderful!" Ravon exclaimed, "Is that your surpirise?!" "Oh, no!" Lewis answered, "The suprise is much bigger." Ravon's hands tightened from anticipation inside of Lewis'. "But we can wait till after some dinner right?" He was stalling and he knew it, but he had to feel this one out for the right time to tell her...

Angel_Queen

11-11-2004, 02:54 PM

Ravon was beyond surprised when Lewis told her about the blacksmith tools he was going to be able to acquire. "Lewis I guess we can wait until after we eat some dinner. Though I really would love to know what the surprise is." She could tell in his eyes that is was going to be something she wouldn't expect. Over the months that Ravon had lived with Lewis she had grown to love the way he was. She would end up having a full stomach before he would allow her to know what the sweets were. Desert after dinner. Ravon loved everything about Lewis but was still distant from him. Nothing would hurt her while Lewis was around. She knew she was safe for now.

"So Lewis what shall we have to eat then?" Ravon was trying to be patient but couldn't. It wasn't like her to be patient. She anticipated the worse but expected the best. Ravon listened as the ran gently came crashing down on the roof of the inn. She realized that she had left the windows up and was worried that for some reason the rain may get in. "Lewis did you go back by our home before you arrived at the inn. I'm afraid the windows are still up." Despite the fact that Ravon had a serious look on her face Lewis began to chuckle and laugh. "Ravon the windows are up. I stopped by the house to see if you was still there before coming back to the inn. All is well in our little hole in the ground." In all her life Ravon never imagined that she would be living in a hobbit hole like all her new neighbors.

Ravon stood up and looked down at Lewis. "I'm going to get an ale would you like one as well?" Lewis gave Ravon a nod and she knew that was her answer. She walked over to the counter and asked a waitress for two pints of ale before returning back to where Lewis was. The foam was layered on top of the warm liquid. Warm ale was always good on a rainy day. Sitting down she placed a mug in front of Lewis. "Here's to us." Ravon's mug and Lewis' mug slightly touched making the foam jiggle. She took a drink and set her mug back down only to be reminded of her old home. When it rained she would always love to dance in it. Now more than anything, Ravon just wanted to be with Lewis. To her it didn't matter what the weather was like, cause with him the sun was always shining.

Firefoot

11-11-2004, 06:59 PM

Lily felt an immense relief at Posco's offer. She had been worried, before, when he had hardly said anything about her news. She had wondered if he did in fact think that she should do as her aunt and uncle would likely expect, and if she had been wrong in telling him. But she worried no more, because Posco had made himself clear. She smiled over at him.

"I would be delighted if you would ride with me," Lily replied with a pleased smile. "If it's not raining-" she darted a wistful glance out the window "-then we can leave tomorrow after breakfast sometime." It seemed to be the perfect solution. She had not really wanted to leave just yet, especially now with Tommy Banks waiting for her, and say good-bye to Posco for a time, but she had been away from home for quite a while now. If Posco would ride with her for a time, though... they could take their time, and despite the fact that she would be heading home, he would be with her. It was the best of both worlds.

Posco returned her smile with one of his own; Lily recognized it as the same one he had given when she said she would go riding with him. Lily continued, "I hope that there won't be any problems straightening everything out at home." Her features were even, but her voice conveyed a hint of worry. "If there are, well, you may come and 'thrash Tommy Banks,' and if that solves nothing I will run away with you." Her eyes glinted with amusement, though she was being serious, at least in part. She would do whatever she thought was necessary to be with Posco. She wasn't sure what that might entail, and hoped it wasn't too drastic. She was not rebellious by nature, nor did she want to be, but if rebellion was the solution her nature would not stand in the way of her love.

"I hope everything works out," she whispered. She did not know if Posco heard her or not, but either way she took comfort in his presence. She feared that she would miss him something terrible before long.

Nurumaiel

11-11-2004, 07:15 PM

Posco glanced nervously down at Lily and coughed slightly. "Well, Lily," he said, as if he regretted his words but felt them his duty to say, "I don't know if we should actually run away. My parents wouldn't like it, and your aunt and uncle wouldn't like it."

"Oh, Posco, I don't really mean it."

"Of course not," he said, and his face brightened. Both were silent for a time, and Posco gazed out at the softly falling rain. He had always loved rain, for it was so soft and smooth-looking, and the sky was grey as if a painted picture, and mysterious mists would sweep over the green hills. Yet this rain seemed to be the outward manifestation of the dreariness in his heart. He did not want Lily to go home, and he did not want her to spend too much time with Tommy Banks. And he did not want to say what he felt he must say. She might misunderstand him, and begin to doubt his affections for her. Nevertheless...

"Lily," said he, and she turned her eyes up to him. He could not help but see the love in her eyes. She enjoyed hearing him speak her name, just as much as he enjoyed hearing her speak his name. He hardly had the heart to go on; but he remembered: he was not saying anything to give her doubt. He was merely speaking as he felt he should speak, as a gentlehobbit. "Lily, when you go home, for my sake, don't be cold and unkind to Tommy Banks. Don't act rebellious towards your aunt and uncle. Be obedient to them as far as you can, and if they try to impose the marriage upon you, be respectful when you answer them. And... and... don't entirely disregard Tommy Banks from your mind. Let him talk to you, and talk to him in return, and try to discern your heart... discern if you really, truly love me, or if you would not be happier with Tommy Banks."

"Of course I love you, Posco," she cried, and dismay was on her face. "Of course I shan't want to marry Tommy Banks. I could not be happy with him."

"I believe it fully, Lily," said Posco, "but I would feel much easier about marrying you if I knew you had made a responsible, well-thought-out decision. If you at least consider that Tommy Banks might be the one you should marry, but you choose me anyway, I'll know I'm making you happy by taking you as my wife, not taking you from a happiness you didn't at first realize."

"Would you do the same if there was a girl back home your parents wanted you to marry?" Lily questioned.

"Yes, I would, if I had your permission. I couldn't really doubt that I had a real, honest affection for you, but I'd think about it, and thoughtfully decide. You won't mind doing that for me, will you, Lily?"

Arry

11-12-2004, 03:15 AM

‘Well, now, just let me tell you ‘bout the shivaree . . .’

Ferdy’s head snapped round at the sound of his Da’s voice . . . his loud voice . . . coming from somewhere across the room . . .

Tomlin and Gil, sitting across from Ferdy in one of the Dragon’s back booths, nudged each other and pointed toward the table where Andwise sat. ‘That can’t be your Da,’ Gil whispered across the table. Ferrin, who sat next to Ferdy, kicked Gil in the ankle.

It was Fallon, just come from lingering near the tap, who confirmed it was indeed Andwise. ‘Buttercup says he’s well into his third pint. Him and Mister Derufin. And he keeps topping off his mug from the pitcher she left on the table.’

All five of the lads now craned their necks outside the confines of the low walled booth to see what Ferdy’s Da was doing . . .

---------

Andwise took a pull at his pint, then set the mug carefully down on the table. His fingers were feeling a bit numb, as were his lips, he noted. He leaned back in his chair, attempting to cross his left leg over his right, but his legs had developed a will of their own. They seemed to have turned all noodley and slippery, too. Neither would stay crossed no matter which one he chose to swing over the other.

Derufin’s face, in focus just moments before, now seemed to have split into two, no, make that three, grinning visages. Andwise blinked his eyes several times trying to get the images to align. He leaned forward, his forearms on the table. ‘Begging your pardon,’ he said slowly, carefully enunciating each word. ‘I did intend to tell you about the shivaree. But something’s gone quite wrong. Some effect of the rainstorm I believe . . . shaking the Inn quite fiercely, don’t you think? Everything’s got all wobbly . . .’

He trailed off and was about to slip from his chair when a pair of hands shored him up and a familiar voice spoke close to his ear. ‘Da, you’ve had too much to drink.’ Andwise looked up into the wavering face that hung over him. Closing one eye, he brought it into focus. ‘Too much you say . . .’ Ferdy bent down and got his arm round his Da. Gil propped up the Hobbit’s other side, while Tomlin ran out to bring round the cart.

The crowd in the Inn opened and shut behind the three Hobbits as they made their way to the door.

Fallon and Ferrin were about to follow, when Derufin called them back. ‘Something I can do?’ he asked nodding at the door. ‘Nay,’ said Ferrin, sitting down in the now vacant chair. ‘The Banks never did hold their ale too well. Ferdy’ll get him home and into bed. He’ll be alright tomorrow. Late, that is.’ Fallon nodded his head, taking one of the other chairs to the left of Ferrin. He picked up Andwise’s mug and finished off the last of the ale. Pouring himself another from the pitcher at the table, he offered a drink to Ferrin. ‘We heard him say something about the shivaree,’ he prompted Derufin. ‘Didn’t go into the plans for it did he, now?’ he asked casually, sounding the man out.

Envinyatar

11-12-2004, 03:49 PM

Derufin spread out his hands, palms up, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve no idea what he meant to say,’ he said, looking expectantly at the two Hobbits. ‘And as for any “planning”, I am more in the dark about what that refers to, than I was before.’ Motioning for one of the servers to come near, he had two new half-pint mugs brought (he was being careful this time . . .), and a fresh pitcher of ale. ‘Now, lads,’ he began, smiling warmly at them as he poured the ale in a long amber stream into their mugs, the foam of it winking invitingly in the light at the two. ‘What is this “custom” I have to look forward to?’ Eager hands reached out for the mugs, but they were denied any access until Ferrin, at last, began to speak.

‘Well, sir, Master Derufin,’ Ferrin began after a hastily whispered conference with his companion, ‘it’s more or less like this . . .’

The two Hobbits played tag team in telling him about the shivaree. An old custom, apparently, they said. And one most likely born out of the Hobbits’ love for parties, good food, and drink. Or so one of their great granda’s had told them once when he was well into his cups and bent on giving a lesson about the importance of tradition.

‘We like the party to go on and on, you see,’ said Fallon, wiping the foam from his lips and leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘And the one after the handfasting is always too short by Shire standards. What with the couple wanting to get away and all . . .’ He grinned up at Derufin, and gave him a wink.

‘So we figured a way to continue the fun,’ chimed in Ferrin, motioning for Derufin to fill his mug. He took a long pull at it before speaking again. ‘Now customs differ depending on the families being joined. The rowdies from Girdley Island kidnap the man just before he and his missus reach their house, get him quite sauced, then leave him across the river to make his way back to his missus in the dead of night. While those from Pincup make off with the missus herself, and the man must find her . . .’

Derufin’s brows had risen nearly to his hairline at this report. He filled his own mug, shaking his head and wondering how he was to tell Zimzi of this local tradition.

Ferrin and Fallon grinned at his discomfiture. ‘Now don’t think we didn’t consider one or t’other of these approaches,’ Ferrin continued. ‘But honestly,’ Fallon went on, ‘you’re a might too big for us to handle.’ Derufin breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, now don’t think we’re giving up on it altogether,’ Ferrin put in. ‘Shall we tell him, Fallon?’ ‘Might as well,’ the other Hobbit agreed.

‘Once you and the missus have come back to the cottage, your friends from the party will find their way there,’ Fallon continued. ‘No rest for the happy couple, I’m afraid, til the wee hours of the morning! There’ll be a gathering in your from yard, a very loud gathering. Pots and pans will be beat on with stirring spoons and the like. The men and lads will vie for who can sing you the bawdiest of songs . . .’ Ferrin nudged him, ‘Oh, and aye, even the sweet-faced old gammers will have some songs and taunts to throw your way . . .’

‘It’s a loud and horrible din we’ll make,’ chuckled Ferrin. ‘And there’ll be no stopping of it . . . until, of course, you throw your robes over your night clothes and come out to join us.’ Fallon nodded, his eyes glinting impishly. ‘And of course you’ll want to be offering these fine singers and reciters of choice verse a little something to drink and eat.’

‘Don’t forget to tell him about the blanket toss . . .’ slurred Ferrin, who had helped himself once again to the pitcher.

‘The blanket toss?’ wheezed Derufin, his last swallow of ale gone down wrong. His face had gone pale, but not from the coughing. In truth, his head was spinning as he tried to take in the details of this Shire custom. Fallon clapped him hard on the back to relieve the breathless cough.

Ferrin, seeing the last of the ale had gone from the pitcher, now waved it in the air, calling for more. Derufin had just caught his breath and Fallon begun again the further details of the shivaree when Cook’s voice broke in on the trio.

Firefoot

11-12-2004, 04:32 PM

Once Lily had gotten over the shock of Posco’s request, she was able to think clearly about it. Why would he ask such a thing of her? She did not doubt that he loved her, and he said that it would make him happier if she was confident that he was who she really loved. She sighed.

“Since you ask it of me, I will try,” said Lily. She had no resistence to his wishes. She would be polite to Tommy, and give him a chance; the question was whether her heart would really be in it.

“Good,” replied Posco, sounding as if he meant it. Lily only wished he didn’t seem quite so sure.

“I made a promise to you earlier, though. I said I would come back. Even if my choice were to be Tommy Banks, I should want to let you know...” Even as she said the words, she began to accept them. They didn’t sound right, even to herself, and she hated the unfortunate circumstances that forced her to consider loving one other than Posco. “Of course, if you didn’t want to see me then, I would understand,” she said, and stopped. This was coming out all wrong, and it would be easy to see how she might have caused Posco to misunderstand her. “Oh Posco, I must sound a blundering fool. But I will hope to come back, some day, and if I do it will be for you and no other.” She wished she could be more certain, but there was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that she might not return, compounded by Posco’s request that she give Tommy a chance.

Suddenly she felt as if she were drowning in responsibilities. She could have remained in Bree; very likely Tommy Banks would now be courting her, and she would have been happy, because she would not have known Posco. She couldn’t change the past at any rate, and she wouldn’t want to, either, all told. Even with all the complications, they must be worth working them out. So far it had proved to be so. Simply running away seemed to be a great deal more desirable than when she had first presented the option only minutes before, but she knew that the solution would be much more difficult than that.

It occurred to her then how much it must have taken on Posco’s part to make the request. He wanted her to be happy, even if that meant she married Tommy. Surely that would cause untold hurt to him, but he had still asked. How selfish she had been, thinking only of herself!

“I will miss you,” she murmured, though her voice was still completely audible. “Even giving Tommy a chance won’t stop that.”

piosenniel

11-14-2004, 12:44 PM

‘Masters Ferrin and Fallon!’ Two heads swung about to see Cook standing behind them, hands on ample Hobbit hips. I hope they’ve not been filling your head with horrible stories about our little custom,’ she said addressing Derufin. She cocked her head to one side, looking at the man. ‘Though by the look on your face it seems you have heard the worst of it.’ She tapped her foot quietly on the wooden floor.

Ferrin took a pull at his mug, then cleared his throat. ‘Now, Miz Bunce . . . we were just giving him the widest of views of what might happen.’ Fallon nodded his head in agreement. ‘Tis good to be a little afeared of the unknown, so my old granda says,’ he chimed in. ‘Besides, the old man here’s one of us now . . . no reason he should be spared some good Shire fun.’

Cook’s face cracked into a wide grin and she chuckled at the earnestness of the two lads. ‘I’m beginning to think that you two might have decided to have a hand in organizing the shivaree,’ she chortled, raising her brows at them. The two clamped their mouths shut tightly, but the decided glimmer of impish plans surfaced in their eyes and their lips, of themselves, curved up in knowing smiles. ‘I see,’ she pronounced, nodding her head knowingly. She looked at Derufin, his face registering bafflement. She patted him on the arm. ‘’Twill be fine, Master Derufin. ‘Tis an enjoyable custom . . . even the caterwauling.’ She beamed as an idea came into her head. ‘I’ve some old pans and lids stored down in the cellar,’ she said, winking at Fallon and Ferrin. ‘Mind you keep your hands off my working set and you can borrow those others.’ She cleared her throat and made one further offer. ‘And I might be persuaded to sing, too . . . providing there is a wee dram of those Dwarven spirits available . . .’ She gazed meaningfully at Derufin. A call from the kitchen cut further conversation short as she turned hastily to take care of the problem.

‘Now you should be afraid,’ whispered Fallon, leaning over the table toward Derufin. ‘Oh, aye,’ said Ferrin, filling their mugs once again. ‘We should all be afraid.’ Derufin took a gulp of ale, raising his brows over the rim. ‘Miz Bunce,’ continued Ferrin. ‘You’ve never heard her sing, have you?

Arry

11-15-2004, 12:34 PM

Andwise leaned against Ferdy as he stumbled down the steps of the Inn. His foot caught on the edge of the last one as he stepped down to the graveled path, nearly sending him sprawling. Gil and Ferdy struggled to keep him upright as they maneuvered him to the cart Tomlin had brought round.

‘Here! Give us a hand,’ called Gil, motioning for Tomlin to reach down for the inebriated Hobbit. A bit of tugging from one with a great deal of pushing from the other two and Andwise was deposited in the seat, held up right by Tomlin until Ferdy climbed up to provide support.

His foot, in fact, was on the little step-up when Andwise, in a moment of soon passing clarity, opened one eye. Gazing at the Inn and then down at his son, he pushed Ferdy back, waving him away from the cart with a wobbly motion of his hand. ‘Nay laddie,’ Andwise managed, pulling himself upright in the seat. He pointed his tremulous finger at Gil standing next to his son. ‘Let yer friends here get the old man home.’ He cast a bloodshot eye at Tomlin and Gil, grinning as he did so. ‘Ye won’ mind, will ya laddies?’

‘Of course not!’ they both chimed, wanting to be helpful. ‘But Da,’ began Andwise.

‘Nay . . . nay . . . there’s someone waitin ta hear from ya, now. I’n’t there? The lads’ll get me home fine.’ He waved Ferdy back to the Inn. ‘G’wan now!’

Andwise’s voice trailed off. He was wedged in now between Gil and Tomlin, head resting against Gil’s shoulder, snoring faintly. Tomlin leaned across him and spoke to Ferdy. ‘We’ve got him. Don’t worry, both of us have had to put our Da’s to bed after a night or two of tipping the cup.’ He flicked the reins against the pony’s hindquarters. ‘Hurry,’ Gill called back to Ferdy as the cart rolled down the path. ‘You don’t want Cook handling your business, now do you?’

Maeggaladiel

11-16-2004, 10:52 AM

Eleniel shook herself, feeling as though she had been lost in thought for a very long time.

"Hostile trees?" she echoed. "You mean the legends of Fangorn Forest are true? I had thought them to be but children's tales." She smiled to herself, shaking her head in wonder.

"See?" she said. "You can travel the land all you want, and there will still be something left to learn."

Lalwendë

11-16-2004, 02:53 PM

The horse and rider came to a halt as they neared the inn. The horse was snorting and sweating heavily, and the rider was not in a much better condition. He had been riding hard all day with only the briefest of halts, and those only taken to allow both himself and the horse a few minutes to catch their breath. The rain which was now falling was welcome to him, and he had pushed back his hood to better appreciate the cool raindrops.

The evening was closing in early due to the rain, and he had seen the lights being lit up ahead. Though he had a good idea of where he needed to get to, he had stopped to ask a passing Hobbit all the same. He did not want to make a mistake and come to the wrong Inn, not after riding all day on this errand. To him, it was a matter of urgency that he get to the Inn as soon as possible, and to that end he had saddled up his best horse.

Pegram’s keen eyes were alert for a suitable place to dismount and tie the horse up. He hoped for a stable of some kind, for the stallion had been an expensive purchase and he did not want to lose him to some scoundrel horse thief. It was the kind of horse which made other men look on in envy, the horse he had yearned for most of his life and finally had been able to buy a few years ago. It was a young man’s steed, but one which few young men would be able to afford. He cared for the stallion well and the creature’s coat shone when Pegram took him out for a ride; when he crossed paths with another man on such a steed, knowing, appraising glances were exchanged.

He was relieved when he saw a stable, but the place was in near darkness and unattended. Leading the horse in, he looked for a secure corner and fastened the reigns to a beam with an intricate knot before casting around for a bucket of water and bale of hay. He gave the horse a quick wipe down with a soft cloth, as he always did, no matter the urgency of his business, and straightening his clothes, went out towards the door of the Inn itself.

Pegram was a man of middle age, prosperous, and stout with good living. He was not overly tall, but he was well built and vigorous in his movements. He had a head of thick, rich brown hair, and a full beard. His clothes were simple but betrayed a knowledge of his taste for the finer things in life. His smock shirt was of white linen, cut to fit his frame exactly, and his breeches were made of fine green moleskin. Pegram wore a matching green cloak, cut from a textured wool, and a pair of sturdy but delicately stitched gloves fashioned from brown doeskin. He carried a knife for a weapon, concealed with a pouch of money on his belt. The weapon had never been used, and it was primarily to protect his money that he kept it, but, as he often said to himself, “Let them come, let them try to get it from my hands“.

The early evening light of the inn shone through the windows and within he could see a hearty crowd, a scene he particularly liked, but then he checked himself, remembering that these were strangers. The smell of the good beer hit him and he breathed it in appreciatively, as it were a fine scent. And fine perfume this was to Pegram, for he was a distiller by trade.

He pushed the door open smoothly, and drew himself up to his full height, his chin proudly thrust forwards. He looked about the crowded room with the air of a man experienced in the ways of public houses, taking in the different groups of people, and not least of all, the bar itself. Allowing himself a few moments to look upon the pumps and barrels with genuine interest, he returned to searching the room. He noted that it was filled with all manner of folk, men and Elves alongside the Hobbits he had expected, and then saw the very person he had come here for. His light eyes darkened, and a growl almost came from his throat, and he strode purposefully over.

***

When she saw Andwise being bundled hastily away from the table, Jinniver knew that he had made a mistake in mentioning this Shivaree. But she quickly realised what this was all about, and though she had been ready to hear a good ghost story, she found herself laughing at the truth of the matter. She could well imagine the commotion that was going to happen after Derufin and Zimzi’s wedding, not least because of the high spirited hobbit lads. She hoped she would be invited to stay fro the event, once her work was done.

Thoughts of the task she still had ahead of her made her quiet for a moment. Her brow creased as a brief worry entered her mind. What if the plants did not arrive in the morning? How was she to make a garden without them? If they were late, then she would have to work quickly, but what if they did not come at all? She caught her breath in a moment of panic, and reached for the jug of stout again.

“Best not think of that”, Jinniver muttered to herself, taking a gulp of the dark, heady brew. She took up her pipe with haste and as she puffed out a smoke ring, began to feel herself relax once again. The sound of Andwise shouting outside, as the lads attempted to get him home in one piece, drifted in through the windows and she tried to stifle a giggle. She took another long drink, and decided to fill her tankard once more. This was a good ale, and she had started to get a taste for it. She didn’t stop to think how drunk it had made Andwise.

Jinniver’s eyes were a little clouded as the drink took hold on her quickly, and she found herself feeling hot, but extremely content. She laughed aloud as she heard what Cook threatened to do. And then she felt cold as a firm hand was placed on her shoulder and a gruff voice said “Jinniver!” meaningfully into her ear.

Tevildo

11-17-2004, 09:37 AM

Rain, rain, rain!

How Tevildo hated rain! The water dripped dully from the branches of the trees that lined the pathway leading to the Inn. He had slunk off earlier that day and left his two-legged companion trudging along behind him on the same road. He expected the two-legged to arrive a bit later, tired and thoroughly bedraggled. Ah, well, let the dunderhead get wet if he could not figure out that rain was threatening, and he'd better hurry up to make it to Bywater before the deluge occurred.

Tevildo's opinion of the two-leggeds was generally low, and today was no exception. He barely tolerated the fellow who claimed to be his "owner". As if any cat could have an "owner"! What a ridiculous notion.

If truth be told, Tevildo felt he had not had a master worthy of the name, since that distant day when he had been in charge of securing the meat for Melko's table. That had been seven or eight lives ago. Tevildo could not remember exactly when, but it had been a golden age when he had lorded it over the other cats. Now the best he could manage was to terrorize a mouse or two in the corrdidors of a dusty Inn in the middle of the place that men called The Shire.

Tevildo did not like Hobbits, any more than he liked Elves or Men. But at least Hobbits had large barns and storage bins filled with grain and other foodstuffs. And where there was food, he was likely to find a fat rat or two.

In the distance, he could see the outline of the Green Dragon looming. He observed that another traveller had just arrived and dismounted from his horse, continuing up the steps and entering the Inn. Tevildo waited for just the right moment when the door was left slightly ajar, and then hurried inside, scrambling adroitly between the legs of the man who looked to be the clumsy type, so common among the two-leggeds.

Tevildo purred with joy to be out of the rain and rubbed his shoulder repeatedly against the wooden leg of one of the tables. Absolutely no one seemed to be paying attention to him. His feelings about that were somewhat mixed. Undetected, he could get away with considerable mischief. Yet, at the same time, he felt irked that someone with his distinguished history should go so totally unheralded in such a public place. He peered around the room looking for the Innkeeper or someone else who worked here. His belly was growling furiously. He hoped to be able to persuade the staff to give him a job. He was no tame pet interested in a bowl of milk, but he would not mind killing a rat or two and watching guard over the hen's eggs in the stables in exchange for a dinner of fish and chicken.

He was not sure how he would get this idea over to the staff at the Dragon,since his ability to communicate was limited. In the old days, he had spoken freely with men, espcially with that milksop Beren. But things had changed with the passing of years, and men's ears had seemingly become so plugged that they could no longer understand his speech. Only the Elves, with their ability to exchange thoughts, could fully understood what he said.

Padding forward on dainty velvet pads, Tevildo leapt up onto the bar and curtly announced: I am Tifil (Bridhon) Miaugion, known to you deaf mortals as Tevildo (Vaardo) Meoita. It just may be your lucky day. I am available for hunting duty. But what actually came out was a piercing Meow!

starkat

11-17-2004, 10:51 AM

As Ginger headed off to find Cook. Gwenneth took a moment to push some loose strands of black hair out of her face. I needed that. An afternoon among flowers. I will have to go out and visit Elenath shortly.

The elf looked around and realized with surprise that there were several newcomers to the inn. Now where is Aman? She stood in the middle of the room looking around for the innkeeper.

Feanor of the Peredhil

11-17-2004, 06:59 PM

Accompanied by a heavy gust of wind, the young woman entered the Inn publicly for perhaps the first time in her life. Her weather-beaten cloak, soaked to an indistinguishable color, covered her fully. A deep hood shadowed her face, revealing naught but a pair of dancing hazel eyes. Her boots, though of the best make, had seen much wear.

She shrunk, nearly imperceptibly, against the sudden light and merriment. It was long since she had braved the predictable questions of any safe and foolish locals, but the woman was on a quest. I must find her, she thought, before I lose my nerve.

A pale hand, shaking slightly, reached out of the wraps to push the hood back. Damp curls of the darkest auburn tumbled free as she looked around unhindered. People were beginning to stare. Soon the questions will come. The way they always do.

Finding her target, her sole reason for having made this long and lonesome trip, the woman stepped slowly and gracefully toward the bar. When she spoke, her voice was soft, melodic. A conversation not yet meant for all ears.

"My dear Aman," she spoke to the Innkeeper's back, "It has been quite some time." She shivered. The Innkeeper turned quickly, recognizing the voice. The woman smiled; a smile hiding many secrets, many nights alone under the stars... many stories of her past. "Perhaps some hot cider to take the chill off?"

"Fea... nay... Caelwyn? Is it really you?" The Innkeeper looked at the mysterious guest with an unidentifiable expression.

Primrose Bolger

11-18-2004, 12:37 PM

An odd sound assaulted Ginger’s ears as she stood at the kitchen’s sink. The door swung open from the Common Room and in came Miz Bunce, humming to herself in a decidedly off key manner. Cook nodded at her as she bustled to the hearth and gave a stir to the stew bubbling lazily in the big kettle. ‘Only a few more days,’ Cook said looking over at Ginger. ‘And I must say you have been quite a treasure – what with all your helping with the desserts and taking a hand in the garden.’ Resting the long wooden spoon on the pot lid, she ambled over to where Ginger was just putting the last of the flowers into the small stoneware vase. ‘Oh, now, what’s this?’ she asked, her eye taking in the riot of color and form.

‘They’re for you!’ Ginger said smiling and holding the vase out to her. When Cook began to thank her she shook her head, saying how it was Gwenneth who’d fixed the bouquet for her. Cook buried her nose in the blossoms and took a whiff of their sweet scent. ‘You thank her for me, won’t you?’ Ginger went on to say what a great help Gwenneth had been with the flower garden at the front of the Inn. And how she was wondering if there might be anything else she could turn a hand to.

Cook had just begun saying how they could use another server for supper, when a raucous sound assailed their ears. Ginger ran to the door and peeked into the common room, her eyes searching for the source. ‘It’s a cat, Miz Bunce. And he appears to sitting square in the middle of the bar, meowing.’

Ginger was sent out to see to the cat. He’d stopped his loud yowl watching her closely as she approached him. His manner was not like those farmyard tabbies she was familiar with and so she avoided calling out, ‘Here kitty, kitty!’ to him. He seemed . . . well, a bit lordly-like, she thought. And eyeing her in a thoughtful manner, too; as if sizing her up. Instead, she stopped a few paces from him and bobbed a small curtsy.

‘I’m Ginger,’ she said in a courteous tone, introducing herself. She could feel the stares of those patrons nearby at her back. It was a bit odd speaking to a cat, but he seemed to follow her words as she invited him into the kitchen for a small bowl of minced meats and perhaps a saucer of milk. ‘Or would that be a saucer of ale, Master Puss?’ she amended, wondering if that were a whiskery sneer she was seeing on his face.

She held the door open for the self possessed feline, waving him into the kitchen. ‘Mind you,’ she whispered as he drew near the door. ‘Don’t track any dirt on Cook’s floor. She’ll have your hide for it!’ Ginger stifled a giggle as the cat looked up at her. ‘Begging your pardon! Didn’t mean to offend!’ the Hobbit offered. ‘Oh! And don’t bother the old tabby that sleeps on the hearth. She’s the Inn’s ‘retired’ mouser. And Cook’s little pet.’

Ginger eyed the cat as he walked past her and into the kitchen. ‘Cook!’ she called out, pointing to the furry guest. ‘Here’s the source of the noise. Come in for a bite to eat, I think.’ She grinned at Cook as the cat made his way to the center of the room. ‘Think we might make a place for him?’ she asked. ‘There’s more work than old Tabby can handle, don’t you think?’ The old cat on the hearth raised her head for a brief moment, yawned, and went back to sleep. ‘Perhaps he can keep the mice in line down in the cellar and in the pantry.’ She thought for a moment. ‘And didn’t Mister Derufin say the mice were getting into the horse’s oats in the stable?’

Cook nodded as the lass spoke; her hands were busy setting down a generous bowl of chopped chicken from the stew pot, moistened with a bit of gravy. A small saucer of milk was set near it, as well as a small bowl of water. The two Hobbits stepped back, then, waiting for the cat’s verdict on the offered meal.

Lalwendë

11-18-2004, 02:44 PM

“Jinniver!”

Shaking with fear, for she knew the voice all too well, Jinniver froze, her tankard still in her hand, halfway to her mouth. A wave of coldness swept through her whole body and her stomach lurched. She did not move, only her lips sought to make words. Her eyes widened and the black centres contracted as she struggled to compose herself.

The hand remained on her shoulder, and the man drew closer. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and suddenly she shook her shoulder roughly to be rid of him, the whiteness in her face replaced by a deepening, red as fury started to descend.

“Why are you here?” she said, coldly, not turning around. She did not wish to look him in the face. Her angry frustration brought her quickly to the verge of tears and she knew that to look at him would bring them pouring down her face.

The man snorted and Jinniver sensed his movements as he stood up straight. Anger was also in his voice and he struggled to keep calm as he spoke.

“I am here to find out what is going on.” he said in an overly measured tone, pronouncing each word harshly so she could not be mistaken in what he said.

Jinniver saw eyes in the Inn turn to watch the scene, taking it in, and then turn away as folk spoke to one another about what might be going on. She looked down at her hands for a moment and then up again, tossing her head proudly and defiantly.

“And. What business is it of yours? You are not my keeper. Who sent you here?” she said in a choked but insolent voice, her throat rasping as she struggled to make the words. Why was he here? She struggled to make sense of it. She ought to be greeting him warmly, but she found herself angry, and this was partly due to the threatening way he had approached her. He had no business doing that.

“I came of my own accord,” he said. “I was troubled and I do not trust you to behave yourself as you ought. I know how silly you can be.” He was somewhat sarcastic with her. “I can see now I was correct.”

Jinniver bristled and turned round in her seat to face him, any thought of tears or shame now passed, and replaced by a full serving of her anger. Her eyes blazed and she sneered, waving her hand dismissively at him.

“Go back to Bree, Pegram”, she said loudly, almost shouting. She did not care who might be listening in, and she was filled with a sense of her own courage. “I don’t want my brother breathing down my neck any longer”.

Envinyatar

11-19-2004, 04:19 AM

‘Pegram, is it?’ said Derufin, standing up from his chair. He came round to where Jinniver sat at the end of the table and stood near her, his grey eyes fixed in a cool stare at the man who hovered near her. The air between the two siblings was thick with anger, and he did not like the underlying current of fear he had felt from Jinniver when her brother had first made himself known. ‘Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I’m Derufin, a friend of your sister.’ He nodded courteously at the man, but did not extend his hand. ‘We were just about to discuss her plans for the garden she has contracted to do for my wife-to-be. Quite a green thumb your sister has, knows her plants well. And she has an eye for design that is quite pleasing.’

He pulled out a chair, offering the seat to Jinniver’s brother. ‘Sorry to cut into your reunion with her,’ he went on, motioning for Buttercup to bring another mug and a fresh pitcher of stout. ‘But there are only a few days left to finish the project,’ he said sitting down next to Jinniver. ‘Three, in fact, before my wife and I move into our cottage. A shipment of plants arrives tomorrow, and we need to coordinate how all the work will get done.’ He turned to the young woman. Her face seemed a little less flushed; the cheeks’ high color fading to dull streaks of red along the bones. ‘The lads can help you over the next few days if you’d like. The work on the cottage is mostly done, and Andwise and I can finish the touch up painting ourselves.’ ‘Think that will be enough help for your project?’ he asked her, pouring Pegram a mug of ale, and topping off hers and his. ‘If not – I do know that Cook’s helper . . . Ginger, has a deft hand at planting.’

Derufin sat back in his chair, giving Jinniver the time to consider what he’d said. He fished in one of the side pockets of his vest and pulled out his soft leather pouch of pipeweed. Unbinding the flap, he opened it, letting the rich, heavy aroma float in the air. ‘Longbottom Leaf,’ he said, filling his own pipe and then offering the pouch to his tablemates. Ferrin and Fallon, sitting at the far end of the table looked longingly at the pouch. With a grin, Derufin passed it down to them

A brief silence ensued as all who had dipped into Derufin’s pouch filled and tamped and lit their pipes. The twist of white smoke curled up lazily from Derufin’s pipe as he drew on the mouthpiece. ‘What sort of business are you in,’ he asked Pegram, casually. ‘Begging your pardon, in advance, if I seem too forward - but if you’re anything like your sister, I would easily guess you are prospering . . .’

Nurumaiel

11-19-2004, 01:00 PM

"Well, that's fine to hear!" said Posco, with a laugh. A felt an urge to take Lily's face in his hands and kiss her hair, but instead he contented himself to ponder with warmth her fiercely-spoken encouragement. Part of him was certain that she would come back to him, and it made him glad, but there was an odd gnawing in his heart, and a strange little voice in his ear, saying that perhaps she would fall in love with another hobbit, and perhaps she would return: the bride of Tommy Banks. He shook himself from this thought, looked into her eyes, and convinced himself that she would remain true to him.

Oh, how the time passed, and how he wished it wouldn't! Each passing moment brought her departure closer. What would he do when she was gone? He had stayed at the Inn only for her, and she was leaving. Yes, true, why should he stay longer? An idea sprang to him, and with a light eye he turned to her, and said: "Lily, I've changed my mind." Her face looked up to his, and she opened her mouth to question what he meant, but he went on before he could speak. "Lily, with your permission, I won't escort you to the end of the Inn grounds. With your permission, I will ride with you as far as across the Brandywine, into Buckland. But only with your consent."

Firefoot

11-19-2004, 07:47 PM

Lily chuckled softly. She wondered how long it would be, if ever, before he realized that he could go with her to the ends of the earth and still she would rejoice at his presence. Instead, she said, "Of course you may come with me - I would be delighted." His pleased grin was infectious, and she could not help but smile back at him. She would not have to leave him for another several days, and it seemed to her that those days would last for a short, glorious infinity. As she gazed into his eyes, she felt that she was falling in love all over again. Surely there could never be another hobbit like him!

It was she who looked away first, for once, and she could feel his eyes on her for a lingering moment. It made her feel guilty that she could even consider going back and giving Tommy a chance, even though Posco had asked her to. It seemed like betrayal, almost. No, she told herself firmly. That's already settled. Now put it out of your mind. She tried, and with some difficulty shoved all thoughts of him to the back of her mind, if not out. She would make the most of her time with Posco, and dwelling on Tommy was not doing that.

Lily's thoughts began to zip ahead to the future. It was nearly summer now, and by the time she got back to Bree it would be summer. She thought that she might be back in time for harvest. Yes, that was it. For now, she had set herself in denial that she might not come back to be Posco's bride, for there was no way for her to fathom why she might not. It was actually a very pleasant state to be in, for she could be satisfied with how things were going here and now, without worries. It was not very realistic, but it was quite pleasing.

Dreamily, she wondered if the leaves turned pretty colors around here the same way that they did in Bree, and supposed that they must because the Shire was really not all that far away. She imagined pony rides through fields and through woods painted in the reds and golds of autumn glory.

She realized how far her thoughts had wandered when Posco brought her back to the present, saying, "Thinking happy thoughts?"

"Oh! Yes, yes," she stammered. "Just remembering our ride yesterday, and looking forward to riding with you again tomorrow, that's all." It wasn't exactly honest, but it wasn't so far from the truth, either, and she wasn't sure if her dreams were precisely proper, all things considered. "I don't suppose," she continued mischieviously, "that the ponies will decide that a swim in the Brandywine is better than the bridge."

"I hope not!" replied Posco, but he laughed along with her at the thought.

"I'm glad that it's a long way to Buckland," said Lily decisively. "We will have ourselves a nice long ride. You will meet me here at the 'Dragon, then, tomorrow?"

Lalwendë

11-20-2004, 10:33 AM

Jinniver’s eyes did not leave Pegram. She stared at him furiously, even reaching for the pouch of tobacco and filling her pipe without looking at what she did. How dare he come here and spoil her enjoyment? It was not as though she had gone far and for long. She realised he must have been at the farm early this morning, and seen the letter she had sent to their father, informing him that she would be staying on a while longer. Before she had left, Pegram had given her a long list of instructions on where not to go and what not to do, how to avoid any unwanted attention being drawn to her. She had borne these instructions in mind, and had come to feel restricted by them; to her delight, had found that Hobbiton was very different to Bree, somehow safer, so now, she did not care so much for his so called helpful instructions.

Pegram, meanwhile, felt all eyes upon him. It was no matter to him; his pride caused him to puff out his chest a little as the other man addressed him. Who was he to step into his business with his sister? As Derufin spoke, indignance spread across Pegram’s face and he did not hear half of what was said to him, but he took the chair offered. There he sat with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest, carefully taking the measure of the man who had spoken. Who might this man be to his little sister? And who was he to step in to talk about one he cared for so deeply?

‘What sort of business are you in,’ Derufin asked Pegram, rather too casually, he thought. It was the voice of a man ready to spring to the defence but all too careful not to reveal this. Pegram could tell from his tone that he thought he might be defusing the argument in some way. Let him try what he might, Pegram thought to himself, if he wanted to start any trouble then this was his business and nobody else‘s. ‘Begging your pardon, in advance, if I seem too forward - but if you’re anything like your sister, I would easily guess you are prospering . . .’

Jinniver noticed her brother’s face twitch with thought at the question. He did not like to be asked about his money; his possessions were one thing, but the secrets of his successful distillery in Bree were keenly protected by him. His young son, Jinniver’s nephew, would one day learn these secrets but they were not for anyone else.

“I am a distiller. Cornthrift of Bree,” he answered eventually. “My products go far and wide in these times. Though they are quality, no, luxury goods as you may say.” His held his broad face high, and his words were clipped and measured. He wished to impress upon the other man that he was no mere farmer.

Unfolding his arms, Pegram took out a beautifully finished pipe, but he did not help himself to the pouch of pipeweed which Derufin had placed on the table. Instead, he drew out a soft green leather pouch of his own, and set about the business of filling his pipe. Before lighting the pipe, he carefully smoothed the hairs of his beard down near his mouth, sticking his chin out manfully as he did so.

Jinniver watched her brother with a look of distaste. Her anger had softened a little, but she wished to show him how differently she was looked upon in The Shire, to prove to her brother that she was not the silly young girl she once had been and who he still thought she was. She was making her own money, and doing well at it, and what is more, she had gained the trust of these fine people; she was just as much a grown up as he, and her own business just as important.

“Yes, I would be glad of some assistance,” she said, speaking defiantly and proudly, making use of her brother’s silence to speak up and finally answer Derufin. “I see now that my message has been received in Bree. So I should hope my father has seen to sending off the plants today. As I said, this will be a fine garden.” She looked across unflinchingly at her brother, catching his eye as he took a draw on his pipe.

Pegram caught the look. He wanted to put his sister in her place a little, to make her see what a disrespectful nonsense she was making of herself. She was his sister, a gentle soul, who he needed to protect; he didn’t like the look of disrespect which she now gave him. It hurt him, and he wanted to make her suffer for it.

Drawing on his pipe and blowing out a great cloud of smoke which obscured his face, Pegram sniggered softly, but just loud enough so that all at the table heard it. “A fine business this is, Jinniver. Making gardens with rustics. If that is what you call business then I’m sure you are welcome to it.”

Sitting back, he savoured his statement. Pretending to attend to his pipe, he did not look up, but he could sense the anger in the faces of those around the table and was satisfied.

Arry

11-20-2004, 02:27 PM

Fallon and Ferrin were from a family who prided themselves on their familiarity with ‘letters’ – reading, writing, the uses of words and their meanings. Fallon’s brows had raised toward his brother as the puffed up representative of Bree-men Big Folk spoke, no . . . spat out, the word ‘rustic’. They were also the children of a mother who valued courtesy and good nature toward neighbor and stranger. Unfortunately, the number of mugs of ale they’d taken had emphasized their sensitivity to the word the man used and all but deluged their sense of extending courtesy. It was to their merit they did discuss the word, but the Inn’s brew narrowed their willingness to accept it with a favorable view.

‘I don’t suppose he meant to call us honest and unaffected,’ whispered Fallon, one eye on Pegram as he puffed on his pipe like some lordly fellow. Ferrin snorted at his brother. ‘More likely he thinks us clodhoppers, boors, and ignorant farmers.’

Ferrin grinned at his brother and stood on the seat of his chair. Pulling up the sleeves of his tunic and then the hem as he inspected his skin, he danced about a bit in an anxious spiral. He climbed to the table top, pulling the alarmed Fallon up after him. ‘Look! Look!’ he cried, scratching himself here and there. ‘I’m rusted for sure!’ He looked wildly about the room and pointed at Pegram. ‘Himself has put his very finger on my problem! Look, look!’

Fallon bit the inside of his nearly ale-numbed lip to keep himself from laughing. ‘I see one!’ he said, nodding his head in a serious manner and pointing to his brother’s belly. Then he began to scratch and dance about on the table’s top, too. ‘Stars above! I think it’s catching!’ Wide-eyed patrons of the common room shook their heads at the two Hobbits’ antics. Those who knew them well, though, knew they were up to some mischief. They clapped and hooted and egged the brothers on, wanting to see what came next.

And what did come next was the inadvertent, or so it seemed, connecting of Ferrin’s flying foot with the refilled pitcher of ale. It tipped over neatly, the golden stream running swiftly across the short distance to where Pegram sat, his face reflecting the fact that these churlish creatures had proved his point. His lap, his fine trousers and part of his shirt were soaked with stout.

The brothers jumped from the table before the man could stand. Ferrin winked broadly at Derufin, while Fallon, remembering his manners, mouthed ‘Sorry!’ at Jinniver. They were out the door in a trice, running down the path toward home, leaving only the sound of their laughter behind to be scolded.

Hookbill the Goomba

11-21-2004, 03:50 PM

The rain was not showing any signs of stopping. Fáinu lifted his head from thought and peered across the path. There were a few trees now very wet and dripping water. Fáinu shook his head and pulled his hood down, he then turned and opened the door to the inn. he was met by a few drunken hobbits shouting, "It’s a bit wet out!" followed by roars of laughter and applause from his friends.

Cree was sat alone still. Fáinu had debated in his mind for long enough, he had made a dissension. He now had to trust in Crees decision, and perhaps test her loyalty. He approached her and sat on the opposite side of the table. Cree arose from thought to see him sitting there, his eyes were fixed on her, and they were stern. He laid a large knife upon the table, but kept his bandaged hand upon it.

"Cree, I believe that we have come now to the point," he began, Cree tilted her head, not quite understanding him, "for now is the time for you to prove your words and follow he whom all else abandoned." she began to understand. "Tomorrow I shall leave for rivendell, and I shall ride double pace, for I am already late."

He pushed the knife towards Cree and released it. It was a beautiful knife. The hilt was of bronze; jet so bright was it, that Cree almost mistook it fore gold. Upon the handle were set many runes of power and gems. a large emerald there was in the centre of the hilt, it glistened in the dim light and Cree marvelled to see such a thing.

"It is all I have left of my mother. This knife has seen many through combat, more so than most swords." He placed Cree's hand upon it, "I bid you take this, if you wouldst follow me. To death, anguish, and perhaps glory." he smiled at her and awaited her response on bated breath.

Witch_Queen

11-22-2004, 02:44 PM

Cree didn't know what to think. The knife Fáinu was offering her was more than just a gift. The knife had belonged to Fáinu's mother. Reaching out her hand to cover the knife Cree looked up at Fáinu. "Fáinu I will follow you to Rivendell. For nothing now can change my mind. I will follow you into death." She had promised that she wouldn't abandon Fáinu. Now was her chance to show her loyalty to the man she "loved."

We leave tomorrow. Yet tomorrow is just one more step towards a fate that has haunted me my entire life. He doesn't need to know what troubles I face ahead of me. Only two people knew about this besides me, one had gone away from me and the other one is dead. Killed by her own blade. For not even the wisest of all could tell me what fate I was bound to. After all we make our own fate. An smile came across Cree's face. She liked to remember about the past.

The only thing Cree wished to push out of her memories was the death of the old wise woman. Even though Cree knew the woman's death wasn't Cree's fault, she knew deep down inside that it was Cree's hand on the hilt of the woman's sword. It was Cree who gave the woman an early death. She couldn't shake it from her memories. Avalon witnessed this "murder" and Cree figured that was why Avalon loved and despised her. "Fáinu, tomorrow is the day? I guess I need to ready my horse and get some much needed sleep. But you will need to know that Avalon will eventually find us on our journeys. Perhaps one day we may visit Rohan and see Adu and Hama. It would be wonderful if we did." Cree realized that mentioning Rohan sent a chill down Fáinu's spine. She still remembered the trouble Fáinu had told her about. Rohan will always be in danger. After all the entire world we live in is at stake.

Hookbill the Goomba

11-22-2004, 03:42 PM

Fáinu peered at her with a stern look. his thought came to what Dwaline the dwarf had told him. "Rohan, perhaps shall ye never set foot on." the chill ran down his spine. Rohan had given Adu much happiness, and yet sorrow, he wished, perhaps to find those responsible and find some truth in the tale she had told him. Hama, a man of Rohan, seemed to cast a long shadow. Fáinu had not considered this for a long while now. Not since Cree had appeared and complicated his thought.

Little trust did he bear for men of Rohan, and men in general he held not to be worthy of much. Save the Dúnedain and King Elessar, whom he praised for good deeds in the past.

"I fear Rohan shall never welcome me," said Fáinu sadly, "Something tells me that I shall never come thither. Perhaps my fate lies elsewhere. But come now, I speak of things that none save Elrond can know. Yet he is gone."

Cree smiled, but seemed a little unnerved, she did not know what it was, but she could see something in Fáinu's eye that was queer and uncanny. Fáinu looked about the room as if he had heard some voice that was familiar to him, but when he looked, no one was there.

"I will not lie to you, Cree." began Fáinu, "many perils lie ahead on your road. Perhaps I shall play a part in them. Perhaps not. But this I know; Danger lies upon any road, the one I have chosen, may be perilous, but with thee by my side, it shall not seem so dark." He smiled faintly, but his eyes wandered to the window and he gazed out and watched the rain fall on the trees.

Noinkling

11-22-2004, 04:25 PM

Well, now, this must be it! thought Tolly Greenhand as his wagon cleared the top of the small rise to the west of the Inn. It was nearing evening, and the lamps had already been lit at the Green Dragon, shining through the thick-paned windows invitingly. His gaffer had told him about the big inn in Bywater. ‘Green Dragon, son, she’s a right fine place for a man to slake his thirst.’ ‘Best ale in the Shire, lad,’ he’d affirmed though to be honest, the old fellow had never been farther east than the Three-farthing Stone. Tolly flicked the reins on his pony’s back, urging him on. ‘Get along, Benny,’ he crooned in a low voice.

The pony’s ears twitched at the sound and he picked up his pace, pulling harder against the harness. The familiar sounds and smells of other horses in the Inn’s stable carried to him. He snorted and tossed his head, wanting to get in on the sweet hay and nosebag of oats that Tolly had promised when the Inn was reached.

‘Whoa up, now!’ the Hobbit called out as they entered the yard and drew near the front door. The fine drizzle rain had abated a bit, and pushing back the hood of his oilskin cape, he took in the Inn at close range. He was about to turn Benny toward the stable, when two lads came bursting through the door, running helter-skelter down the path to the road. Their friendly laughter trailed after them. ‘Wonder what that was all about,’ Tolly murmured to Benny, flicking the reins once more as he guided the pony to the stable. A young lad came out to greet him, taking the reins as Tolly stepped down from the wagon. The price for the pony’s keep was agreed on, and an extra copper penny for the lad to put the wagon in a dry place.

Benny having been seen to, Tolly hurried quickly to the porch of the Inn and eased open the door. The warmth of the place welcomed his entrance. He stood for a few moments taking the great room in. Just as my gaffer described it! he thought, looking delightedly toward the bar and the great fire place. He hung his dripping cloak on an empty peg to the right of the door and hurried to a small table near the fire.

Tevildo

11-23-2004, 01:14 AM

Tevildo cautiously eyed the two women and the sleeping cat, pondering what he should do. He would have preferred to eat in privacy, away from the prying eyes of the two-leggeds. But his stomach was growling loudly and the hearty aroma of chicken fat was hard to resist. With his tail rhythmically twitching back and forth, he sidled up to the three bowls, ignoring the saucer of milk and going right to work on the chopped chicken from the stew pot that had been generous flavored with a dollop of gravy.

He had to admit that these little folk knew how to cook. This dish was considerably better than anything he and his mistress had found earlier that week in the Prancing Pony. It looked to be the older woman--the one called Cook--who was in charge of the kitchen and responsible for the various delicacies being taken out to the guests. Tevildo would not stoop to being called "Cook's little pet" as the older tabby evidently had. But he was not unappreciative of someone who showed such skill in the cullinary arts.

Finishing the last of the food in the bowl, Tevildo sat back on his haunches and delicately licked the final morsels from his paws. Then he lay down, curled up contentedly in a small ball, and began to purr loudly, all the while vigorously cleaning his coat with the small barbs of his pink tongue. Once he looked up and seemed to grin at Cook, showing a line of sharp teeth all perfectly matched and suitably sharp.

Once he was satisfied that he was perfectly clean, Tevildo again rose and slipped gingerly between Cook's legs. The older woman was standing in front of the fire and stirring something in a large pot. Tevildo stopped to rub against her ankles and then paraded out of the kitchen, heading purposely down the hallway towards the pantry where he thought he heard the scuffling sounds of mice.

Out in the Common Room, he could hear another familliar voice: that of his mistress and supposed 'owner' who had finally found her way to the Inn.

piosenniel

11-23-2004, 02:41 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, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn (played by Envinyatar)

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

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

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.

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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.