The Green Dragon Inn - Part 9

[piosenniel]

The Green Dragon Inn - Part 8 (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000129&p=9) had reached it’s limit.

Welcome to Part 9!

Carry on, Shirelings!
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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.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff and Postmaster; his pony’s name is Dumpling.
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Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn.

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.

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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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IT IS NOW LATE EVENING IN THE SHIRE, HEADING TOWARD NIGHT.

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<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:10 PM January 23, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama reached swiftly for his belt and his fingers closed around the hilt of Tithaing, he tugged, but his hand did not move. Grimm was holding it in place, shaking his head with a pained expression on his face. Hama returned his gaze to Huan...

"Do not instruct me in the meaning of grief!"he shouted,"I have never claimed lorship over all sorrows in the world, only of my own! You talk about war too easily for someone who has seen so much..."

Hama breathed deeply for several seconds. He found he was standing up, his shouting having attracted a lot of attention from around the inn. His hand was still closed around Tithaing. Grimm released his grip. Hama slumped into the chair...

"I am sorry..." he said with a heavy heart...

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:03 PM January 23, 2004: Message edited by: Hama Of The Riddermark ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal licked her lips, then breathed in slowly before she began to sing,

Every green field
every wandering
that you or I may find
just remember this one saying
that I leave behind

May the road rise up to meet you
may the wind be always at your back
may the Good Lord ever protect you
until you come back

Crystal blushed deeply at her song. She couldn't believe that she would even sing it.

"My mother use to sing that song to me as I fell asleep each night, before she died," Crystal said quietly as she stared at her cup. She couldn't bring herself to look at Angry. She was so embarssed for releasing something that meant so much to her.

Well now he is scared, my voice is hideous and the song was rotten. Crystal thought sadly as she brushed a tear away quickly. She didn't want him to see her cry. She didn't want him to think that she was weak in any way. Her old defenses came up like sheilds around her as she shrugged deeper into the cloak that still concealed her.

The man that had listened was now fighting with other men from Rohan.

Rohan. She looked up, her attention at the ready. She had no idea who they were, but they didn't wear the insignia of her father's army. She was safe. She settled back down and continued to stare into her cup.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree sat there. Hama had almost frightened her. But she was used to it by now. She placed her hand on his arm. "Its ok Hama." She didn't know what else to say to him.

She looked towards Grimm and noticed that something inside him had seemed to change. What could this be? She looked back to Hama. "IT WILL BE OK." She sat back in her chair and tried her best to change the subject to something less stressful. "Can you two please quit this." She felt herself become dizzy. Not again.

She slumped over in her chair. Almost as if she was dead. So much pain. So many hurting. Why? She thought she heard voices. "Save me someone!"

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"Strange folk at the Green Dragon, now-a-days." Halfred Hamfast set his heavy mug impatiently upon the wooden table as he glared disapprovingly in the direction of the rowdy men. Asphodel, who had placed her arm protectivly around Hanna when the yelling had started, began slowly to relax.

"What's the world comming to?" grumbled Halfred to himself. "Can't even take my daughters to the Inn anymore without there being some kind of disturbance!" He lifted his mug and put it to his lips, driking deeply of the ale. Asphodel, who sat across the table from her father, lowered her head and stared into her lap. Her nerves where in a state of aggitation. She felt guilty for having begged her father to let her and her sister accompany him on his nightly visit to the Inn. It was usually a rare treat, where they would meet her father's friends, and they would eat, smoke, and laugh into the wee hours of the morning. She turned to look at her sister, Hanna. Hanna's curly auburn hair, which had been pulled back into a braid by their mother earlier in the day, was now a mess from Asphodel's embrace. Strands of hair had been pulled free of the braid, and now hung loosely around her large ears. Whatever had occured, Asphodel was glad of one thing: that her youngest sister, Marigold, had not been allowed to come.

"Fools!" grumbled her father again. He slammed his ale down so hard that it slopped all over the table. Asphodel and Hanna jumped. "I'm sorry, my dears," said Halfred quickly. "I'm not in the best of moods."

Asphodel nodded. She greatly wished she could say something to make her father less angry, and her sister less nervous, but knew not what. She picked up her mug and swallowed her water in silence.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:01 PM January 25, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Angry Brandybuck]

The beauty of Crystal's moved Angry more than he had ever been moved before by something that wasn't the wind blowing gently over the green fields of the Shire, or a good pipe packed with Old Toby. Sure, this lady wasn't from around here, but she behaved just as if she'd been born and bred in the Shire, every inch a hobbit.

When she had finished singing she looked upset and melancholic, as she had when Angry first talked to her. He longed to be able to comfort her, put his arms around her and stop anything from harming here. He suspected, however, that this would not be the right thing to do in a public place such as this. At last he merely said "That was beautiful Crystal, thankyou for sharing it with me."

He noticed that in the corner Halfred Hamfast had come in with two of his daughters. He was especially pleased that he hadn't embraced Crystal now because Halfred was well known to be against all of the 'strangers' that now frequented the Dragon. If Hamfast saw him 'fooling around' with a human woman Angry's parents would be bound to find out. He also noticed, as several men about the town had been doing, how beautiful Asphodel had become lately.

You're a silly fool Angry. You can gaup at the girls all you want but you know they don't want you. Crystal may do though, and he was beginning to think that he wanted her aswell.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm saw that Cree got dizzy, she could almost sit up properly. Hama and Huan were both quiet. "Are you allright, my Lady?" Grimm said with a worried tone. Grimm looked at her. What's troubling her? he thought, her face looks like she are having hallucinations. "Cree?" Grimm said again. Now Hama looked worried too as Cree still looked dizzy. "Huan, go and get her a glas of water, hurry!" Grimm said with almost panic in his voice.

Huan rose up and didn't said anything. He walked to the bar and didn't seem to be in a rush. He slowly walked back to the table and handed the glas to Grimm. Grimm held it in front of Cree. "Drink it, Cree" Grimm said. Cree drank it very slowly, but she still didn't seem to get better. Grimm got worried about her. Hama still looked cool and Huan didn't seem to care. Grimm continued look at Cree with a worried face and awaited her for respond if she was okey.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 10:57 AM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: Fool Of A Took ]

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama looked worried now. He leant over and shook Cree...nothing...he looked around desperately but nobody it seemed was aware of the danger...

'Barkeep! Barkeep!' Hama shouted, his voice getting increasingly louder as he shook Cree more urgently...nothing happenned, she stayed still, 'Barkeep!' Hama shouted louder than he meant to... He looked back to Cree...'Not you as well...' he whispered under he breath...

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:54 PM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal looked up. Her sadness diming slightly. He hadn't judged her.

"I don't believe that if I came in here a couple of months ago that I would find such a kind hearted man as you, Mr.Brandybuck," Crystal said truthfully.

She was blushing wildly underneath her cloak now. She could only wonder what he was thinking about her. And she knew that he could only wonder what she was thinking about him.

She had fell into step with this place, even though she had seen only the inside of the Inn. She couldn't wait to see the rest of this place, this Shire as they called it. She felt at home, and was certainly of, well short stature, to fit in with the towns people she assumed.

Maybe I could live here instead of trying to make a place for myself in Rohan. Crystal thought. She knew she would have to be careful of others from Rohan that would possibly come to find her. She wasn't any normal, every day person, she was the daughter of one of the armys of Rohan's greatest general.

The disturbance caught her attention, a woman lay upon the table. She hurried down and made her way over there.

"Please, allow me to assist her," Crystal said hurriedly as she pulled back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

"I know remedies. I've seen this before, please," Crystal stated as she stood before the two men, waiting to see if they would let her help, and if they even recognized her. She was secretly hoping that she wasn't. But she knew how to help and now it didn't matter that she was being searched for. A life hung in the balance.

She waited, her hand upon her pouch, for the men to allow her to help.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama looked up at her questioningly...a glint was in the corner of his eye as he stepped aside to let her pass and attend to Cree. 'Of course, anything you can do...' She hurried past him, and yet a flicker of recognition passed through his mind...

He paused, looking at her face for just a moment then turned away. While she couldn't see his face his jaw dropped about an inch. She was HERE. He was now faced with a huge dilemma. Did he take her back to the general, or did he leave her here? It didn't take him long. She would be punished if she returned, so she was staying here... he turned back around...

'Yes, anything, so anything you can...'

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:26 PM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: Hama Of The Riddermark ]

[piosenniel]

Please remember to follow this basic rule when you post in the Inn or a game:

2. Write in complete sentences and in paragraph form. Each post that you make should be at least two paragraphs in length with each paragraph made up of at least two sentences. Separate the paragraphs by double spacing between them. This makes your posts easier to read and more enjoyable for everyone. ~*~ The Red Book of Westmarch/Rules for Posting in the Shire

Bottom line your post must contain these 2 paragraphs and then if you wish to put in a single line of dialog, or a single dramatic line at the end that's fine.

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:59 PM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[SonOfBombadil]

"Of course I will," came Lewis' relieved reply. He stood up and walked behind Ravon, and gently put the neklace onto her neck and did up the clasp. It looked beautiful on her, he thought. He walked back over to his seat, and noticed the ring that Ravon had given to him was lying on the table in front of his seat. Lewis pickecd up the ring and looked at it once he had sat down. It was a beautifully crafted ring, care had gone into the making of it.

As he slipped the ring on, he looked up to Ravon's face. She was looking at him, and their eyes met. His Rohirric eyes, and her Elf eyes, were so different, but the same. His eyes seemed to like hers, as he looked at them more than he actually realized. A mere "Thank you Ravon," was all he said, as he was at a loss for words.

[Angry Brandybuck]

Angry watched as Crystal went over to help the poor woman who had been taken ill. He didn't follow her over, however, because he knew he would be no help. Just as my old man always says, 'Too many cooks, spoil the hot pot'

Healing had never been a skill that he had possessed. Actually, he could never remember having any particular skills. He certainly was no cabinet maker, his father had made that quite obvious. What was he going to do for the rest of his life? He couldn't go on like this. His parents had told him that they would stop giving him the support that he lived off in one years time, unless he found a trade.

All he wanted to do, though, was sing and make music; not something that could support a young hobbit like himself and put regular meals on the table. He stared at the Hamfasts at their table and wondered about the husbands the girls would end up with, and whether he would ever be 'blessed' with children.

Idly, he reached for his pipe and weed but found that his pouch was empty, he had finished it earlier in the evening. That had been his last bit of leaf.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:59 PM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

When the yelling had started up again, Asphodel had dropped her mug and shoved Hanna under the table. Her water went crashing to the floor and spilt all over, but no one seemed to notice. When Asphodel realized that it had been a false alarm, that one of the ladies seemed to be sick, she felt silly. Halfred had called an Inn worker over to help clean up the mess, and had picked up her empty mug and put it back on the table.

"By the hair on my feet, Asphodel," said her father, "you're a bit jittery today. But that's understandable." He turned to glance over his shoulder at the other table. "Looks like one of them Big Folk ladies is not doing so good."

Alarmed, Asphodel looked over. There was one of the strange women spralled out upon the bar table. While the men stood around, another woman was attending her.

"Should not we go to help them, father?" asked Asphodel tentatively. She had no idea what she would do, but perhaps they needed someone to run errands for them.

Halfred wasn't sympathetic. "Oh no, my dear," he said. "They look like their doing just fine by themselves. Besides," he sat back down on his chair and began searching his coat for pipe weed, "it's no place for a Hobbit young lady, and especially none of the Hamfast girls, to get involved in the business of the Big Folk."

Asphodel turned to look at her father. He was busy searching for weed to fill his pipe. "Now is the time," she thought. "Stay here," she whispered to her sister, as she began to move forward slightly. Her progress was slow, timid as she was of their towering height. Even for a "Hobbit young lady", she was considered small, standing only two feet, eleven inches. She had made it halfway across the bar room, when she felt someone grab her forearm and pull her back.
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LINNAHIRIL TINNUFINWEN

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Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

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<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:59 PM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Memory of Trees]

Reign stood hesitantly on the doorstep, absently fingering the fraying edge of her cloak. It was dark green, to match her eyes, and the soft evening sun gilded the hem with rich gold.

The girl straightened her skinny shoulders as she came to a decision. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin stepped quietly through the inn doorway.

It took a moment for Reign’s eyes to adjust to the dim light of the common room. The heavy scent of smoke filled her nostrils, mixed with the welcome smell of food. Reign leaned up against the wall, and surveyed her new surroundings with interest.

The room was filled with creatures of all sorts. Some she recognized, like the men and dwarves. She thought could vaguely remember having seen an elf when she was a very little girl, but she only knew them by their height and delicately pointed ears.

There were also many that she had never seen before, like the strange but friendly-looking little people there seemed to be an abundance of.

Reign brushed a strand of pale hair from the corner of her mouth, and removed her hood, revealing her narrow, white face. No one had even looked up as she came in. Reign didn’t mind. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself.

She slipped quietly into the crowd in search of the innkeeper.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:29 PM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: Memory of Trees ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal hurried past the men and eased a smooth liquid into the woman's mouth. She rubbed the woman's throat to make her swallow, praying silently that this would work correctly.

"Give it about two minutes. It should work unless it was laced with anything other then the poison I belive she was poisoned with," Crystal answered.

She looked up and recognized one of the men. A man from her father's army. A man she had known was seeking her since she ran away.

"Hama," She said, her eyes wide with fear. She hurried backwards to Angry, praying silently that he wouldn't take her back to Rohan.

"Please, please don't take me back," Crystal pleaded as she reached Angry. Every thought, every memory from her childhood raced through her mind from her mother's death. Memories of pain, sadness, and uncontrollable grief that she just couldn't go back to, wouldn't go back to. She had a purpose now, a goal, a life. She wasn't going back.

"I claim sanctuary here in the Shire with Mr.Brandybuck. You can't take me away," Crystal declared as she hurried behind Angry. He wasn't tall enough to conceal her, but just his presence was reassuring enough.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:57 PM January 24, 2004: Message edited by: Crystal Heart ]

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel reeled as her father yanked her back across the bar room and sat her forcefully down in her chair. On her right side, Hanna quickly turned her gaze upon her glass of milk and pretended not to notice that her older sister was about to get into big trouble.

"You disobeyed me, young lady," said Halfred in a chilly voice. "What did I say? I told you not to get involved with the Big Folk, didn't I? What kind of example are you going to set for Hanna and Marigold? You're almost thirty-three years old, Asphodel! I expect better of you."

"But," Asphodel began, but the sentence died on her tounge when she saw that across the room, the sick lady was breathing again, though still unconcious. "She'll probably be revived soon," thought Asphodel, "no thanks to you. What can a little hobbit girl to for any of the Big Folk, anyhow?" Perhaps her father was right. As he once had said to one of his friends, " If the Maker of Middle Earth decided to give them too much height, he obviously meant for them to look out for themselves and their own kind. I don't see none of them breaking their high and mighty necks to help us Shire Folk."

Asphodel looked up at her father. Halfred had calmed down a bit, and was sucking on his long, wooden pipe with relish as the white, fragrant smoke rose into the air. Asphodel knew a bit about the leaves of pipe-weed. Her father made his living growing small fields of Longbottom Leaf and Old Toby on their farm in the Southfarthing. She remebered spending long summer days with Hanna running down the long isles of plant, and helping their father pick the first fragrant, ripe leaves and put them into baskets. It was a good living; more than enough to support a good sized family, though the Hamfasts were not anywhere near the affluence of the old Took or Brandybuck families.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:57 PM January 25, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Everdawn]

"Don't feel sorry for me! If the whole world felt sorry for everyone, then no one would ever stop crying, do you know what i mean? However it doesnt matter, it's in the past!" exclaimed Sírabel cheerfully.

"Im not so hungry myself" sighed Sírabel resting her chin on her hand. "Dont worry about me though, go ahead and order for yourself, though perhaps we could use some more tea" she waved over one of the waitresses and waited patiently as Eradan ordered.

"Well, yes, the nightlife at my home is hectic, though i wouldnt realise so. Im known as a 'free spirit'some call me that anyway." said Sírabel laughing. "The good old times.."

Sírabel started tapping her fingernails on the table. "Well, it was my fahter who first told me i had artisitc talent, I meerly met one of the kings... advisors?- anyway, and i showed him what i could do and apparently he liked it, it was then i met Elessar, adn things have looked better for me ever since." she abandoned her fingernail rythem and folded her arms.

"It's a pitty really- that you didnt ever meet Hamirdan, i mean. I think you two would have gotten on very nicely, yes, very nicely indeed. Eradan, if you dont mind me asking you, what do you plan to do once you have spent you time here?"

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm got confused. First the woman helped Cree, then Hama seemed to recognize her and she recognizing him. The woman backed away to a hobbit and screamed. "Dont take me back. You can't do that!" she screamed. Grimm said with confusion "What is this? Hama? Can you explain to me what's going on?" Hama looked at the woman with a cold gaze. She seems scared. Why? Is she from Rohan? he thought. The woman was still trying to back away from Hama and Hama still looked at her.

"Are you from Rohan, my Lady?" he said. Her scared face reminded him of the face of Kettil, his brother, when the Uruk-Hai slayed him. Huan stood and looked at Hama but didn't say anything. "Could you answer me, my Lady?" he said and started getting annoyed. So many strange thins going on here, he thought and then looked at Cree that still seemed dizzy. He felt sorry for her. He awaited the womans answer.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama strode slowly over to where Angry and Crystal were standing. He looked into here eyes, they were wide with fear. In that moment, even though his mind had already been made up, he felt a huge surge of pity flow through him for her...

'My lady,' he began. Crystal looked even more fearful, 'You can never go back to Rohan. Your father's greif swiftly turned to anger and your punishment will be severe. Although by letting you remain here I break my oath of fealty to your father, my oath to Eomer still stands. It will not be through me, or Grimm, that you will return to Rohan,'

Crystal straightened up a little, and Hama saw that she was almost exactly as he had been told by the general. He shook his head, she could not return, he knew that...The hobbit looked confused, as he had not understood a word of the Rohirric that Hama had just spoken...

[Angry Brandybuck]

The next few minutes were a blur to Angry. He felt that he needed to help Crystal in some way, that she was coming to him for protection, but what from? The man from Rohan he expected, but didn't understand a word he was saying.

Even so, his new found feelings for Crystal gave him the courage he needed and he drew himself up to his full height, puffed out his chest and took one step towards the tall Rohirric stranger. He didn't know what he was going to say but he knew that he would be proud and call on every bit of standing his name gave him in the Shire.

Then the man seemed to say something soothing, something that reassured Crystal and made her loosen the iron grip she had had on his shoulder. feeling somewhat redundant now and not even beginning to understand what was going on, he said

"I suggest, sir, that, as I am a Brandybuck and well connected all over the Shire (especially with the Shirrif), you would do well to not threaten me or any in my company. Who are you any way? This Inn here is a peaceful place, where any are welcome, as long as they cause no trouble."

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal sighed in relief.

"Thank you Hama. I know you could be effectively giving up your life for your decision. Yes, I'm from Rohan. I am the general's daughter," Crystal replied.

She noticed that Angry was at the defensive. She heard him come to her defense. She put a hand upon his shoulder.

"It's alright Mr.Brandybuck. These men are from Rohan from my father, the general, that is looking for me. They will not be taking me away as I had feared," Crystal reassured.

The sudden fear to relief was leaving Crystal very drained. She swallowed and put a hand upon the bar to keep herself from falling over. The situation seemed to be resolved, but her heart was still racing like her old horse.

Her eye sight became slightly fuzzed and she blinked furiously to correct them.

[elf-girl-63]

Lainniss jumped off her horse and led him to the stable. The night was drawing on quickly and she was pretty sure the inn would soon be shut. The night was cool so she tucked her hair into her hood and drew her dark cloak around her and tucked her small bag inside. The inn was drawing her near but she still stopped for a moment before entering.

Inside, a woman was being tended to on the table and Lainniss tried hard not to look as she walked up to the bar.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late but I'd like a room for a few night please," shes spoke quietly and the bar-maid had to bend over to hear her.

"Oh course miss. We have a few available. Would you like to eat first?" Lainniss nodded and Ruby led her over to a table away from the commotion. She was quite surprised to see a woman travelling by herself. It appeared she was not of Rohan either which was even more unusual.

Lainniss took off her cloak as the fire was large and roaring. SHe fingered the plain pendant hung around her neck for a few minutes as if reminding herself of something and then waited for her food. It was a hot steaming bowl of soup and the server watched for a moment while she ate. Seeming satisfied, she returned to the bar and left Lainniss in peace.

ALthough, Ruby had seated her away from the table where the woman lay Lainniss had sat down with full view of it and now she watched the situation. Eventually, after finishing her soup and seeing they were not much nearer to helping the woman she stood up and walked over taking her bag with her.

"Excuse me. I am a healer- would you be needing some help?"

[Angry Brandybuck]

It took a while for what Crystal had said to make sense to Angry. Her father a general? Sending people (armed soldiers no less!) to find her and capture her? He had thought his parents were cruel and insensitive but this really took the biscuit!

Its got to be a strange place she comes from if a father can't even find it in his heart to love his own daughter! he thought to himself. He was beginning to find it hard to believe that anyone could look upon Crystal, and know her, and not love her.

"Right then," he said, embarrassed,"So, despite obvious and well known risk to your honourable self, you're not going to be taking this young lady here back to her father?" Seeing that he had got this right, Angry's opinion of (what had Crystal called him?) Hama changed immediately.

"Well, sir, you have my deepest deepest thanks. I must buy you a drink, come, come sit and drink with us and I shall teach you of the Shire and all the songs that flow through it like the waters of the Brandywine."

He called for Ruby to come to the bar and fetch them three cups of Dwarven Whiskey and a pouch of Old Toby. Not noticing in his joy at Crystal's safety, the pain that she was suffering.

[The Perky Ent]

Hamfast awoke very abruptly to the sound of cheering. Clearly, there was some party going on in the Inn. Getting dressed, Hamfast walked down over to a blank table and watched as men, dwarfs, elfs, and hobbits sung and drank and the night grew on.

Buttercup walked over to Hamfast. "Hello, uh, Hamfast was it? What can i get you?" she said trying not to make him feel any worse. "I'll have an ale thanks." Hamfast said, as if it would drown his sorrows. After several minutes Buttercup came back with Hamfast's drink, and left. "Cheers!" he said drinking his ale. Hamfast never recovered from his date with Ruby Brown, and only wished he had someone to talk to about it.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama walked up to crystal and laid a hand on her shoulder. He looked at her again, and the smallest of small tears fell from the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheek.

"I could not cause you harm, Crystal. Your father is one of the...less gracious lords of the Rohirrim. Try to banish your sorrow for now, at least. You will not be moved from here if it is where you want to stay."

He moved away and nodded once in her direction. He sat down at the bar and took his glass of whiskey, and with a slight hesitation took a sip. He chuckled slightly and then let out a roar of laughter.

'By the mark, little hobbit. This is surely the finest drink in all the lands.'

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"I'm hungry," said Hanna. Both Asphodel and Halfred turned to look at her. It was the first thing she had said all evening.

"Of course you are, my dear!" said Halfred. "What a great blockhead I am, starving my daughters half to death, all because of the Big Folk. Let us eat my dear, let us eat!"

Asphodel was glad that her father and sister seemed to be regaining their spirits again. For awhile, there seemed to have been a bit of commotion involving the Big Folks and a Hobbit, but it did not last for long. They were now all eating and drinking together. Asphodel was glad that her father sat with his back to them, because if he had seen that Angry Brandybuck was dinning with strange Big Folks, he would have marched right up to the poor young man and boxed his ears.

Asphodel was somewhat familiar with Angry Brandybuck. They had passed each other many times on the roads, had attended the same functions, and even had played together as children. Her father knew his father, and they sometimes did business together. "He's a nice young man," thought Asphodel, "though I hardly know him." She would never have told a soul, but she suspected that Hanna had taken a bit of a fancy to him.

Asphodel was pulled suddenly out of her solitary reflections by the sound of her father's voice.

"By the hair on my feet," he exclaimed, as a fair-haired Hobbit woman approached thier table. "If it isn't Belladonna Boffin!"

&lt;font size=1 color=339966&gt;[ 5:52 PM January 25, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]&lt;/font&gt;

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:54 PM January 25, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal's fears finally fled. If Hama wouldn't turn her in or speak of her whereabouts then she was safe here.

"Thank you Hama. This is where I wish to dwell for the rest of my days," Crystal replied. She smiled at Angry's celebration drinks, but could feel his general confusion.

Yet it was she that was confused. Not by Hama's kindness, but by the thanks that Angry Brandybuck had given him. He was thanking Hama for not taking her away. Something confirmed inside of her soul that he didn't want her to leave as much as she wanted to stay.

She listened to Hama's amazement at the drink that he had taken a sip of. The dizziness she had been feeling earlier was still present, but diming now. I just need a nice long rest, Crystal thought as she got back up on the stool she had been sitting upon. The height and her dizziness caused her to almost fall off the stool. She rightened herself quickly and shook her head.

The constant fear, pain, sorrow, and grief she had been going through lately had seemed to start to effect her health. Something she wouldn't voice. She didn't want Angry or Hama to be concerned with her and she wasn't sure whom to turn to if she was sick. The thought frightened her already racked body.

Crystal coughed and hid her face in her cloak as she felt a trickle of blood come out of her mouth. It was worse then she had feared.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree looked around still she saw nothing. Cree you need to be carefull around these people. She couldn't tell who or where the voice was coming from. She grabbed her throat almost as if someone was choking her.

"NO!" Cree screamed as she came back to reality. She looked up to notice something was going on while she was "away." She didn't know who these people were all she could remember was there was argument and then she passed out. She reached up and placed her hand on Grimm.

She didn't know if he was going to jump or have some type of heart attack. She noticed that something was going on with the others.

[Angel_Queen]

"Thank you Ravon" was all that she heard as she found herself lost in his eyes. She came back to reality when she heard what sounded like a scream.

"Its nothing special. It is I who should be thanking you." She blinked her eyes and lost all thought again. His eyes seem to be so different than that of the elves back home. Yet both races have one thing incommon. Its easy to tell what they want.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around. It was Cree. He smiled to her and said "Are you allright now?" She nodded and sat down in a chair. Grimm sat down beside her. He looked up and saw that Hama and Crystal stood and talked to each other. Grimm moved closer to Cree and said "That's the generals lost daughter. The general of Rohan." He tried to be discreet and pointed at Crystal. Cree nodded like she understood.

Grimm looked at Cree and then asked "So, where are you from, and what brings you here?" Grimm ordered another ale and looked at Cree. It was so long since I last met an elf, he thought and smiled to Cree, I thought they had left for the Grey Havens for many years ago. He took a sip of his ale and then looked at Cree again. He started getting tired, but he thought that if he got an ale and could have a nice conversation with a stranger that might could be his friend, he could be up for hours.

[Witch_Queen]

"Eryn Lasgalen. I came here to escape the council that my father once lead. They blame his death on me." Cree could remember everything just like it was yesterday. "Its been so long since I've been able to talk to someone without worry of them finding me. Yet they're not going to force me to go back."

Cree sat there and rubbed her throat. What ever it was that was poured down her throat was about to kill her. "What did she give me?"

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor stepped into the Green Dragon inn. Glad of warmth, he took off his weatherstained green cloak and made for a chair by the glowing fire.

"Aman!" He called, as he stretched himself and leaned back. "A pint of beer for me, please." In answer to a surprised look, he said, "No, I'm not on guard duty today."

After a while, order came in. "For Illuvatar's sake, I may just settle here!" Ferethor said. "Best barley beer north of Gonder!" He drank deeply, hoping to drown his grief in the stupor of beer.

It was just his way - to betray nothing of grief and sorrow that he was feeling. Only few of his truest friends could divine what his real mood was.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:07 PM January 26, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Angry Brandybuck]

Still not noticing Crystal's distress, Angry's thoughts once again turned to his pipe. He felt in desperate need of a good smoke to calm his nerves down after that near run-in with the man of Rohan. He asked Ruby once again for a pouch of Old Toby but they had run out. There had been a shortage of the weed recently due to all of the 'Strange Folk' coming into the Shire and buying it for themselves.

Looking around the Common Room again, his eyes located Halfred Hamfast and deep inside his head a connection fired. He could not go over there, however, because then surely Halfred would see him with Crystal.

Eventually his cravings for weed and over-stretched nerves forced him to approach the Hamfasts' table. Crystal didn't even seem to notic as he mumbled an excuse, slipped off his stool and sidled over to the table.

[Fool Of A Took]

"What did she gave me?" Cree asked. Grimm actually didn't know. "Ehhmm... I am not sure. But what happened to you?" Grimm had the worried face again. Cree looked down to the table and seemed like she didn't want to talk about it. Grimm got more concerned. I certainly hope it's not too serious, he thought and stilled looked at her. Grimm took a mouth of his stew. It was cold now. Grimm rose and said a short 'Excuse me' to Cree.

He threw the stew with vegetables, at the way back he grabbed an apple. He sat down and she looked up at him. He took a mouth of his apple. It was big, green and tasted woderful. Cree was just about the respond his question.

[Kransha]

A small and weathered figure strolled briskly down Bywater Road, pulling his frayed brown cloak around him as best he could. He picked up his pace as he neared his destination, on one side of the path. He walked in and over to the opposite end of the Green Dragon Inn, dodging awkwardly past several small tables and people of various sizes and shapes, and sat down contently. He fumbled momentarily with the innards of his outfit until he came upon what he was searching for. With an elegant, if not exaggerated flourish, he whipped out a surprisingly long pipe, a merry glint in his eye.

He let his heavy garments fall back and relished the glowing warmth that filled the room, compared to the caustic chills outside. His body sagged in the chair as he relaxed in the fire’s light. He laid his arms on another table that sat in front of him and sighed deeply, scratching at his wizened face with rough-skinned fingers. He glanced with his tired eyes around at the establishment, taking in what sights there were to see. He smiled as warmly as the fire and turned back to his pipe.

He, Tobias Hornblower, could use a drink right about now, after a long period without any liquid sustenance. His head darted back and forth, scanning the room, his grey-brown strands of unkempt hair flailing lawlessly. He was, for some reason, hesitant to buy a drink. One of his hands went quickly to a coat pocket and dug around until a look of impatient irritation crossed his face. Grumbling to himself, he resumed his bird-like watching of the inn around him. He would’ve proceeded to get a drink, except for the pestering fact that he had no money.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal wiped the blood away and swallowed against her will. The metallic taste made her stomach twist and turn. She couldn't help it. She didn't want anyone to know. She turned to see that the woman that she had aided was now up. She swiveled in her chair.

"It's an older remedy from Rohan. It shan't hurt you," Crystal replied as she watched the woman. She seemed upset with her for helping. Crystal had only been doing what she had thought was right. She knew that if she had been in the woman's position she would have wanted help, but then again not all people liked to be help. Like herself at this particular moment. She was protected now here in the Shire, something she had desperately needed, but now her illness was becoming worse. Now there was blood involved.

She tossed away the thought of actually dying. She couldn't die and she wouldn't. Not yet, not when she had finally found a place to stay and a person to care for her. She wasn't going to leave this earth right now, not until she was fully ready.

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"Aunt Bella, Aunt Bella!" Hanna exclaimed excitedly, as the fair-haired Hobbit smiled and held out her arms. Hanna jumped off her chair, nearly knocking Asphodel over, and gave her aunt a big embrace.

Asphodel was glad, and not to mention surprised, to see her mother's sister at the Green Dragon. Her Aunt Belladonna lived in Bree with her husband, though she had grown up in the Shire. Asphodel had only been aloud twice in her whole life to make a trip to Bree; once accompanied by her father, and the other by Belladonna herself. Halfred was extremely hesitant to let any of his daughters, or any other Hobbit, leave the boundaries of the Shire. Even as shrewed a business man as he was, it took him years before he could be convinced to go to Bree to sell his leaf. But not to strangers. One of Halfred's biggest rules was that he would never sell any leaf to anyone other than a Hobbit. Which was part of the reason that he ran his business from his own plantation, and gave very little to the Green Dragon, or the Prancing Pony.

At first, Asphodel thought that her father's stubborness would keep him from gaining as much profit as he was capable. Whatever was the intention of the Big Folk, why gripe if they were willing to give you their gold? The truth of the matter was, however, that Hobbits smoked ten times the amount of the Big Folk. Halfred had no trouble selling most, if not all or more, of both his fields.

Asphodel stood up out of her chair and stretched her legs, which had become a little cramped after sitting for so long. Then she made her way over to her aunt, whose attention had been taken up by Hanna.

"And we picked some more Longbottom Leaf today," said Hanna to Belladonna. "Father has a whole pack of it in his jacket. Do you want to see?"

Belladonna laughed heartily. She had a cheerful, infectious laugh that could always fill a whole room. Even though the Inn was crowded with many people talking and laughing quite loudly, Asphodel was sure Belladonna Boffin's laugh could still be heard by half the people in the room.

"Do you want to see it?" asked Hanna again, looking anxiously up at her aunt. Asphodel approached Belladonna and found herself caught in a tight embrace.

"How are you, Asphodel?" asked Belladonna. Before Asphodel could answer, Hanna began tugging on Belladonna's cloak.

"Do you want to see it? Do you?"

"Alright, alright," said Belladonna, releasing Asphodel. "Show me the pouch."

Hanna happily trotted over to her father and began searching his coat.

At that moment, Asphodel caught sight of Angry Brandybuck approaching their table. She wondered what he could want. After some hesitation, completely unaware that he was being watched, he came and stood before her father. Hanna had already found the pouch and sat at the other end of the table, displaying it's contents to Belladonna.

Halfred eyed Angry suspiciously. Though having no idea what had passed in that very room involving the Big Folk and Angry, he was known for not thinking well of, "silly, good-for-nothing young men."

"Well," said Halfred after a moment's silence. "What can I do for you, Angry?"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:09 PM January 26, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Witch_Queen]

"It was nothing. At least not the poison she thought. It always happens to me. Its more of a spell I take on." She dropped her head. Cree knew the girl was only trying to help her. "Thank you who ever you are, but I would have been okay. I always am." She turned to Grimm.

She was thankfull that someone cared for her. Though the medicine was hung in her throat. Cree got up and ran to the door of the inn. She ran outside and to her surprise she ended up throwing the medicine up. She had thought she heard voices behind her.

She turned around and noticed that Grimm had followed her outside. "I'll be fine." Cree turned her back to him and continued disposing of the medicine in her throat.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman served Ferethor with an ale, smiling lightly; she didn't take offence at his familiar address, as he had passed through the Inn on occasionaly visits more than once, and was always amiable, and whats more, always paid punctually and correctly. The man dropped the coins into her palm with a grin, not needing to ask the price (he had pretty much learnt the menu by now), before he settled back into one of the soft, battered armchairs by the fire, putting his feet up on the footrest. In such a way, he began to extol the virtues of the Green Dragon, drinking deeply. As the Inn had got busier, Aman didn't have time to dwell on the man, but departed back to the bar.

As she reached the bar, she noticed a young, slim woman already there, apparently waiting for the Innkeeper. The Rohirric Innkeeper didn't remember seeing her come in - she must have slipped in fairly quietly - but then, the Inn did get rather busier and rowdier as the afternoon wore on to evening. Looking at Reign, Aman remarked to herself that even in an Inn which seemed to attract such a range of people, she had very rarely seen anyone making such a concerted effort to be completely inconspicuous whilst obviously bursting with questions.

Coming to the side of the bar and slipping behind it, Aman smiled at the blonde, pale faced woman. "Good afternoon; I'm Aman the Innkeeper, can I help you?"

[Fool Of A Took]

When he sat down again, Cree ran outside. Grimm thought he had said something wrong so he followed her out. When got out he saw her throwing up that medicine Crystal gave her. "Are you okay, my Lady?" Grimm said and walked closer. Cree nodded and tried to clear her throath. Grimm walked inside and got a glas of water to her. She drank it slowly and they went inside again. Cree seemed tired and almost worried of something.

Grimm took another sip of his ale, but it didn't taste that good as before. "You dont want anything to drink, Lady Cree?" Grimm asked and looked at her. I really feel sorry for her, she must feel terrible, he thought and looked with a concerned gaze at her. It was getting late and Grimm thought about maybe go to bed soon. It had been a long journey to reach The Shire.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal smiled at the woman lightly. She was glad to help, but watched as she ran outside to throw up the medicine she had given her. Crystal's eyes dimmed sadly and turned back. Another cough racked her body. There was only a small amount of blood that didn't expell out of her mouth. She swallowed and unconsciously made a face. She picked up her cup and drank to get the metallic taste out of her mouth.

"Please tell the woman that I helped who I am when she gets back," Crystal said to Hama as she put her head in her hand. The dizziness had come back now and she felt as if she would fall off the tall stool that she was perched upon. Her breathing became eradiact and she tried to even it. It was becoming harder to breath. She prayed that she hadn't punctured her lung or had gotten a disease that was making her lungs bleed. She was convinced that the blood that was coming up was from inside her stomach from the alcohol that she had been drinking. She closed her eyes against the swirling world.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree shook her head. "No I believe I've had enough to drink for the day. If I drink too much I won't be able to leave tomorrow." Cree knew she hadn't mentioned the fact that she was leaving the next day.

She could tell that Grimm was tired. It must have been a very long journey for him to come to the Shire. She stood up and walked to stand behind Grimm. "You need to get yourself some rest."

She reached into her side pouch and pulled out some type of herbs. "Here if you want to stay awake for a little longer and not feel so tired take these. I'm not much of a medicine-elf. But I do know somethings about staying awake."

"I'm sorry about earlier." She could feel herself becoming sick again but kept it in. She didn't need anyone to worry about her anymore. All she needed was to feel independant and not have anyone to worry about or have anyone worry about her. The least of my worries would be to have something to worry about.

[Kransha]

Tobias Hornblower hopped up from his place, still muttering quietly, and walked over to bar. He propped himself up against and, with a similarly splendid flourish, whisked the pipe back into his coat pocket. He leaned against the bar for a moment, his half-closed eyes overlooking his surroundings, and finally turned to the innkeeper and looked her over too. After a second of that, he snorted rather indignantly and spoke up, as humbly as could.

“Madam,” he said, murmuring in a gruff but meek voice, “Would you by any chance be willing to accept credit for some refreshment, or perhaps a trade? I’ve got collateral aplenty and my word should be good here.” He seemed confident enough as he spoke, even though he was obviously nervous and thirsty.

Of course, he was lying. His word wasn’t good anywhere. He was a relatively well-off hobbit financially, but he had a tendency to forget the paying of his bill. He did have collateral, though, in the form of a large pouch brimming with Longbottom Leaf. He hoped it would serve, since he had no other items of value with him. He hadn’t been in the Green Dragon Inn since before the Great War, and he distinctly remembered “accidentally dropping his hat outside the door.” He fervently hoped that this incident had been forgotten with the arrival of a new innkeeper.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:26 PM January 26, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Lumiel]

The sun had already cast its dusky rainbow palette across the sky and given way to the soft purples and pinks of early night. Though not cold, the air had a slight chill, and it was the kind more noticeable to a hungry child than to an adult. Along the dirt road, a young girl trudged onward. She wore a faded pink dress with a dirtied apron on the bottom half. The sleeves were rolled up on arms wrapped around a small body no more than three feet high. She wore no shoes on her feet and had dirt smudged on her feet, legs, hands, and face leaving her skin tone to only be guessed at. Her hair was a darker shade of blonde, just short of dirty blonde. It lay in a mess down to her shoulders, having been neglected for some time. Two large brown eyes peered from within the small framed face, liquid and inviting when lit with joy, but at the moment were stubbornly closed to outside influences yet open and alert for any chance at food or warmth. She had a small, pouted mouth and her body language gave the clue to a willful child.
She had walked the entire day as well as the day before that, with little food or sleep. She was hungry, tired, and cold. As alert as she had kept herself, she was wearing down. She didn't even notice the Inn until she was within sight of its stables. The horses whinnied at each other and their breath made small puffs of air, almost like they were dragons, tamed from the wild and...the child shook her head. No time for nonsense like that now.

The Inn cast a pale but warm light on the ground around it, and she could hear voices within and shadows to give bodies to them. The smell of food and the crackle of a fire reached her nose and ears and she inevitably found herself heading towards the door. She hesitated a moment in front of the threshold and then stepped within to her place of respite.

Her eyes opened in surprise at what she saw; people everywhere, of all sorts! Hobbits and Men and Elves...and here she was, a little girl in the way. She gasped and quickly found her way to the darker corners, where she went unnoticed by the patrons. Her momentary fear gave way to her seemingly indominatable spirit as she felt the luxury of warmth caress her skin and the tantalizing aromas of home-cooked meals waft her way. One problem was solved, but there were others.

She watched the people, what they did and how they did it. There seemed to be food aplenty here, and she wanted some of it. But how could she get some? She watched a woman at a table. She was almost finished, when a commotion occurred across the room. The woman went to help, and the girl saw her chance. She scrambled across to the table and snatched at the half-piece of bread that was left and snuck away before anyone noticed. In another dark corner, she devoured the bread, eyes darting this way and that, daring anyone to try and take her prize. None sought her out, for her existence was not known as of yet. She did this several more times, even daring to take food from under people's noses when their heads were turned. It caused some confusion, but none of the customers could tell what was happening, so they ignored it, most of them.

But there was one man, a big man to the young girl, who did notice. She avoided his attention and waited until he turned his head. She reached out a hand with confidence and gripped the bread in her hand. Before she could snatch it back, the man had her hand in an iron grip and called out loudly. "Thief! Thief! There's a thief in this Inn, and it's stealing my appetite." He sized her up and then called for a servant, anyone who would deal properly with this nuisance. "What a nasty creature you are, filth and muck and no shoes! Bah, probably some unwanted brat of some of the locals." The girl answered with a fierce glare and a small growl as she tried to twist her hand away. She couldn't be caught! But even more serious was the insult of this man! "Got some spirit I see, eh?" the man laughed. "A good belt would cure that for you!" He lifted his hand as if to cuff her across the head and she cringed instinctively. He thought better of his actions and growled in annoyance.

As she struggled in the man's grip, she wondered what they would do with a "thief" like her. She had seen other children face dire consequences when caught, but this place seemed to quiet for the things that she imagined. As the man used his other hand to lift a mug to his lips, she wrenched her arm as hard as she could, jarring the man's grip on the mug so that some of it spilled on his shirt. In surprise, he momentarily lessened his grip on her arm and it was enough. In fear, she turned to run only to find chairs and people in her way and tumbled unceremoniously to the ground amid the crash of chairs and the disapproval of the older hobbits. Refusing to face defeat without some sense of honor, she turned to face whoever it was that she was sure would be looming over her, ready to beat her for what had been an act of desperation, and gave her darkest, most defiant face she could. But what she saw surprised her.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:07 PM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: Lumiel ]

[Kransha]

Tobias turned from his leaning to look upon the new commotion. He caught only a glimpse of the fray, watching as an anonymous girl clamored about the room, fell, and got up again. He’d heard the loud and obnoxious voices behind him, so he had a relatively good idea what was going on. He took a brief glance at the newcomer and her oversized foe and relaxed again against the bar. He hoped that the brief chaos and distraction would give him enough time to snatch up some food for himself. He knew that, if caught, he would not be so frowned upon as such a vagabond, considering his status in the Southfarthing.

He pulled off his heavier cloak, which had been tightly wrapped around his sagging shoulders, and neatly folded it into a cloth bundle which he tucked studiously under his arm. He took another impatient breath, sitting down on an aging stool. He laid his hand out on the bar, slowly moving towards a loaf of bread, his fingers practically tip-toeing across the wooden surface. With his free hand, he adjusted his shirt collar and smoothed the wrinkles from his bright green vest ceremoniously, maintaining a façade of dignity. His head leaned sideways, towards the woman.

“Do things like this occur here often?” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth to the innkeeper behind him as he watched the girl and the man. He didn’t hold a very high opinion of such boorish and rude men, such as the one in front of him. Even though she had obviously tried to steal something from him, undignified behavior wasn’t justified by that. It momentarily occurred to Tobias that he was thinking hypocritically, but he ignored the thought and continued inching his hand towards the bread loaf.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:56 PM January 26, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

Activity and conversation raged around the inn, and the maids bustled around taking orders. In fact, some strange thing seemed to be going on, involving a strange man and a girl. However, Ferethor was too deep in his sad thought to take notice.


"Even though the time of Darkness is past, orcs, Wargs and other evil creature prowl around the borders." Ferethor thought. "If soldiers of Gonder, in disguise, does not patrol the gates and defend this simple country, there would be no peace for these holbytlans to remain merry. Whither shall they flee from the oncoming dread if we did not protect them?"


But he was not appeased. He longed for the Gondor, and the majestical city of Minas Tirith where he was born. True - he had nothing there, only broken fragments of memories and the graves of his parents, but it was home.



He was immersed in his thought, keeping silent, that he did not notice that someone was talking to him.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:47 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[SonOfBombadil]

Lewis looked into her eyes more. Normally, he would have looked away blushing, and said something to ease the silence. But at this occasion, he did not feel that words were needed, and he did not feel embarrasment either. He and Ravon had gotten along very well, since he met her, this morning, and he now felt very strongly for her.

Suddenly Lewis' human instinct took over, and he turned his head. He looked at the venison, untouched on his plate getting cold, and he took a bite. He noticed that there had been some disturbance nearby, and he noticed that there were some Rohirric men nearby who he thought might have been involved.

"It's a shame that we must still fight against forces of darkness now, but it's a bigger one that we fight amongst ourselves." Lewis said to Ravon, commenting on the situation. He continued "Uh oh, that looks like Cree coming in the door looking kind of ill."

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor, who haven't paid attention to anything that was going on, rose in some confusion and surprise as chairs crashed in a sudden turmoil. A little girl was trying to twist herself free from the wreckage of chairs and disapproving gaffers disturbed in their evening beer.


Ferethor guessed, from her clothing and unkept hair, that she must be one of the orphans left on the street to make their own living by her folk, as many children often are in hard times. Her purpose wasn't tooo hard to discern - hope for warmth and fod. Even as he approached, she turned her eyes upon Ferethor - defiant, unquenchable, the sorrowful expression of one introduced into the harsh world too soon.


Ferethor suddenly vividly recalled his own childhood. His mother, slowly fading from the desease that swept over Gondor. His father, once a famed healer, vowing that he will never heal again... And his death in the field of Calehedron, or Rohan, the land of Horse-lords.


Then, his makeshift to stay alive. Instead of thinking of only next meal and sleeping place, as too many orphans often did, he remembered his ancestry. Ferethor's only heirloom, slender elven-bow of his father, he never sold. Even though Illuvatar knows he had gone without food many days... Later, when his archery skill was sufficient enough to hunt for his life, the life was better. When he was admitted into Guard of the citadel, it was better still. But he has never forgotten his childhood days.


His face softened by the pain of remebrance and pity, he reached down and took her little hand. "Little girl, are you all right?" She did not seem very comfortable, but she made no effort to pull her hand free.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:48 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm took the herbs and bowed. He tasted them, they didn't taste very much. It tasted like eating grass. He took up his pipe and leaned back into his chair. He drew a deep sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. Pictures of Rohan and the battle's he had been in came back to his mind. All the death and sorrow, and the fear. He could see his brother. Standing on the outer wall and commanding the archers to aim. Grimm thought it felt like having a nightmare, yet he wasn't dreaming.

Somebody shook his shoulder and he came back to reality. He opened his eyes and saw that it was Cree. He smiled to her and then lightened his pipe. Grimm then got reminded that Cree was about to leave next morning. He felt sad and his mood sank like a rock to the bottom of the ocean. "Lady Cree?" He asked slowly. "Why are you leaving tomorrow? Where will you go? Back to Eryn Lasgalen?" Cree looked up and said "Well..."

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

'Oh no!' shouted the man, 'I'll 'ave none o' that mollycoddling. She's got to LEARN!' He seized the little child again... Hama turned around just in time to see this. He stood up so quickly his stool crashed to the floor. He strode over to the man and caught his next aimed blow.

The man turned and looked daggers at Hama, but Hama had his wrist in a vice-like grip. He tried not to show his pain as he jerked free of Hama, and muttered as he slumped off to another corner of the inn. Hama stood there watching him darkly...

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:08 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Hama Of The Riddermark ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

Activity and conversation raged around the inn, and the maids bustled around taking orders. Ferethor was too deep in his sad thought to take notice.


"Even though the time of Darkness is past, orcs, Wargs and other evil creature prowl around the borders." Ferethor thought. "If soldiers of Gonder, in disguise, does not patrol the gates and defend this simple country, there would be no peace for these holbytlans to remain merry. Whither shall they flee from the oncoming dread if we did not protect them?"


But he was not appeased. He longed for the Gondor, and the majestical city of Minas Tirith where he was born. True - he had nothing there, only broken fragments of memories and the graves of his parents, but it was home.


He shook off his thought, dismissing them as 'brooding', and called for another ale. He'd stay the night, and then head for Eryn Lasgalen.


"Eryn Lasgalen..." He silently voiced the word. "It was named once Greenwood the Great. Then evil lurked in it's shadows, and it's new name was Mirkwood, a word to strike fear into all who heard it. Now it is named Eryn Lasgalen in Quenya."


Even though he was young, he felt his age slipping away. Elves played no more by the Greenwood the Great, and dwarves were few and seldom seen, adn even holbytlans avoid us with dismay.


Maybe, as the name of the forests were changing, so does the time. It was now the Age of Men.


"By Illu, I'll never get out of the habit of brooding." he said cynically, when he noticed that his mind was going in circles again.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:20 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal couldn't contain the coughs that were coming more rapidly now. She coughed, blood spurted out into her hands. She looked at them in horror and looked around for something to wipe them off on. She just couldn't let anyone see. She looked around frantically, but she couldn't find anything. She sat there with her hands out, not know exactly what to do.

Hama would find out. So would Angry now that she was sick. She hadn't wanted this. She wanted to be healthy. She had wanted to pretend that she was alright. She wanted a new beginning. She had finally found herself here, she didn't want to die.

But thoughts of dying, thoughts of seeing her mother and Arty again flew through her mind. Memories of her life began to flash. She just couldn't die now. Not when she had finally found the Shire, found Angry, found happiness once again. She didn't want to loose it. Everytime she became just a wee bit happy she lost it everytime and she didn't want that to happen now.

[Witch_Queen]

"Well I'm leaving tomorrow to try to find my actual father. Or atleast the person that killed the man I knew as my father. I had hoped that I would find him so long ago. But I gave up on hope the day he died. The day a part of me died." Cree began feeling sadness again. She had found someone she could talk to and now the next day she was leaving. "I'm never going back to Eryn Lasgalen. Though I miss my home, it wouldn't feel very home like anymore." She turned as she saw what seemed like Hama fighting with someone.

"I wonder what that is all about. Will you excuse me." She walked over to Hama and brought him back to the table. She noticed that the girl who tried to help her seemed in some type of pain. Soon very soon if she doesn't find any medicine she will die. I can see it in her eyes.

There was so much she could tell about someone just by what their eyes say. "Is it troubling that we must live life like it would end the next day." She knew who she had meant it for. Yet deep down inside she knew it was true.

All that is love can be taken away, yet the memories made will seem to stay. She who is dieing will not fade away,f or she is the daughter of many kings. Cree could feel a hand touch her. To her it seemed like some type of trance. She wasn't sure. "She's dieing." Cree knew that she was right. "If only my father was still alive. He would have known what to have done." Her voice was full of meloncholy. Her words seemed so far away.

Her gaze dropped to the floor and she thought another spell was coming on. I have to fight it. "I have many demons to fight. But she has only one and he is mightier than anything." She sent a glance at the girl. "For all that you hold precious you shouldn't give up yet."

Cree knew that she must have been sounding crazy. She figured that a bit of her "father" was coming out of her. She tried to force a smile but it was becoming hard for her to do that anymore.

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon looked at where Cree was. "Indeed it does appear that she is in the middle of it all." She could figure that Lewis felt embarrassed or something. "Whats wrong? You seem as if your distant."

She was use to the feeling. Always she seemed far away from what was happening. She noticed Cree was saying something. She has a bit of her mother in her. Always talking in riddles was her father's traits. But he wouldn't kill anyone.

[Angry Brandybuck]

As Angry spoke to Mr Hamfast he seemed distracted by something. He kept on looking up with a worried expression on his face at someone who Halfred could not see. "Well, erm...Mr Hamfast, sir, I was just sat over by the bar with a friend of mine you see, and, well, I just thought to myself that it would be a mighty fine time to maybe, erm, sit and have a smoke, like"

Halfred eyed him suspiciously and indicated for him to continue. "But, you see I have already smoked the last bit of weed that I had and as a result, if you see what I mean, I didn't have anything left to put into my pipe. And then I saw you over here and I thought to myself 'Now, Angry, theres a man as discerning and respectable as the day is long. I'm sure if I ask him nicely, despite it not bein' his regular trading hours as such, he may have a pouch of Toby, or Longbottom an him that he might wish to share with you, for a price"

He hoped that Halfred would not notice where he kept on glancing and then look and see who he was so concerned about. He wished now that he had never come over here and stayed with Crystal, who obviously needed his help. It was too late, however, and any move of his to try and help her would mean Halfred seeing what he was 'up to'.

He waited in agony while Halfred thought about what he had asked.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm looked down in the wooden table. He now felt sad as he knew that Cree was leaving tomorrow. Yet he shouldn't stop her trying find her father. He gasped deeply and was getting dizzy. He leaned back and looked at Cree. She didn't seem tired at all. Grimm saw Crystal standing and coughing. She really seemed ill. He didn't know what to do. Maybe he should see if she was allright. He leaned back in the chair thinking of what he should do. He looked at Cree and but he didn't know what to say. Poor woman, Grimm thought and his gaze turned to Crystal again. She was coughing and Grimm saw that she had blood on her hands. Grimm rose up and said a short 'Excuse me' to Cree.

He walked to Crystal and layed a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and Grimm could see that she was really ill. Her eyes was red and her gaze was sad. A tear slowly ran down her cheek. "Are you allright, my Lady?" Grimm said with a worried look. "You seem very sick." Grimm looked at her and she looked dizzy now, just like she was going to fade. She started coughing again and Grimm got more worried. Her hands were shaking.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:45 PM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Fool Of A Took ]

[Witch_Queen]

Cree watched as Grimm walked over to the girl. It was becoming difficult to bring herself to leave the next morning. But she knew she had to. She finally got tired of setting there so she walked over to where Grimm was. "Its like I said a bit ago."

Cree couldn't remember what she had said. It was almost as if someone or something had talked through her. But the only thing was what was it. Crystal
She remembered the name. "She's in trouble. Someone get her something to drink." Cree looked to where Aman was.
"Aman does this girl have a room?" She saw the woman nod her head. Cree decided to take Crystal to the room she had stayed in. She turned to the men that followed and told them to wait outside.

"Crystal you have to tell me whats wrong with you. That way I can figure something out."

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman raised an eyebrow at the hobbit leaning on the bar in front of her, although the gesture was, of course, lost on his back. And some instinct told her that he might be about as good at paying off credit as the scores of other hobbit men who had passed within the last two or three years and were thereby a blot on the Inn's accounts.

In answer to the hobbit's question, she figured she had to give some sort of reply. "Well, not so you'd notice mind, sir. But then, the Dragon isn't exactly your conventional Inn."

As she spoke, although she faced the commotion on one side of the room, her eyes were taking in Crystal, still seated with Angry, the hobbit she had taken a shine to, and now with Cree as well. Even as Aman watched, Cree stood, leading Crystal to the bar.

"Aman, does this girl have a room?"

The Innkeeper shook her head. "Not yet, but 't can be arranged." Crystal seemed about to say something before she coughed again, her handkerchief held over her lips, and Aman saw the speck of red appear on the other side. Her eyes widened for a split second and she handed Cree a key. "If you want somewhere to sit, here's the key to one of the empty maids' rooms, just down the side corridor."

Cree nodded and gently led the dazed Crystal away. The Innkeeper watched, concerned, but it was best not to get involved; Crystal had another to look after her for now, and as the saying goes, too many cooks...

Turning back to the hobbit still leaning nonchantly on the bar, she cleared her throat and he finally turned to face her. "Now...you offered to trade in exchange for a room? May I ask what?"

[Kransha]

The aged hobbit suddenly realized that he was being spoken to. He responded as quickly as he could by turning and continuing to search his person for something to bargain with. He only had one commodity of any value with him and had no idea how much it was worth.

“Pipe-weed,” he said very bluntly, “and lots of it. I’ve got best of the Halfling’s leaf in all the Southfarthing that I’d be willing to give up for some food and rest. I don’t know how much t’would be worth to you, but I assure you, there are many frequents of this fine establishment who would pay well to have some.”

Tobias Hornblower swelled with pride as he spoke, still fishing out various satchels filled with different varieties of pipe-weed. That, he supposed, was the one advantage of being a respectable member of the Hornblower family. His family back in Longbottom were the leading producers of Longbottom Leaf in the Shire, and he always carried around a surplus. He had roughly five or six small sacks filled with each kind of pipe-weed for every occasion and was known in the Southfarthing as someone who smoked at least a little too much, if not more.

He continued on before the woman could respond, “If that doesn’t work, I’m sure I have credit enough to serve for a one-night stay. A Hornblower never goes back on his word, after all.” Another lie, but he didn’t falter. Honesty wasn’t a virtue of his, but he was telling the truth about his word, which he valued (even though he often tried to find some loophole that would allow him to honestly shirk his bill).

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm nodded to Cree and went back to his seat. Cree and Crystal slowly begant to walk to Crystals room. Grimm took a sip of his ale and saw them walk away. Now what to do. Maybe he should go to bed. He didn't know if Cree would be back soon. He gasped again and then leaned back. He looked around him to see where Huan and Hama was, but he couldn't see them anywhere. He drew a deep sigh and fell into daydreams.

Grimm was getting more and more sleepy and could barely keep his eyes open wide. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus at staying awake. I can't stand this anymore, he thought, I must have some rest. He rose up and walked to the over to the counter where Aman stood and talked a hobbit. Grimm passed Hama and said 'Good night' to him. Grimm sat down on a stool and waited for his turn to talk with Aman so he could have a room for the night.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal coughed again, her hands in front of her mouth. She couldn't stop the blood. The people she had aided were asking her what was wrong, but in all honesty she had no idea.

"I do have a place to stay. With Mr. Angry Brandybuck," Crystal made out before she started coughing once more. The fit of coughing brought more blood out of her mouth. She showed her hands to Hama and blinked furiously, her world started caving into darkness.

"Tell Angry that I love him," Crystal said before her eyes rolled back and she started falling towards the ground.

The deep blackness held her, but she fought. Her mind kept moving like a fish upstream.

Her eyes flittered back open as she held on to the life that she could feel was trying to leave her.
"Angry?" Crystal asked, her unseeing eyes darting around the room. She couldn't see nor hear anyone that surrounded her.

A trembling hand grasped the necklace around her neck. The once beautiful metal was covered in her blood, glistening like an unspoken prophecy of what was to come.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Passing a hand over his brow, Ferethor was about to head to his room when he noticed a vaguely familiar person staring at him. Ferethor approached, and said pleasantly, "Can I help you?"


Off guard at the moment, he was striken with sudden shock and fear as the stranger asked bluntly, "You must be one of the guards of Gondor in stationary here." The holbytlan gaffers chatting by him suddenly put down their mugs, fell silent and looked at him in wonder.


Ferethor swore silently to himself. "By the Lady Varda Elbereth and Lord Manwe Sulimo, who is this stranger? How could someone in Bree, in Prancing Pony of all places, recognise me?"


Outwardly, he smiled. "What a ridiculous claim. What business will the tall soldiers of Gondor have to do with Shire, and Prancing pony? I'm just one of the southfarthing shriffs here." The hobbit gaffers went back to their mug, mumbling "1420s, this is!"


"I was about to head to my room, do you wish to accompany me?" Ferethor said. "Surely." He said.


"How did you know I was a soldier of Gondor?" Ferethor turned on him as the oak door closed behind them. "What do you know of my errand to the Shire?"


"I would know, since I'm one myself." He said, with silent laughter. "You've not already forgotten me, Thor?" IT was his tone, both wristful and merry, that betrayed his identity as much as the nickname.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:13 PM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel smiled, though she tried to conceal it, as her father gave Angry Brandybuck a glare as hard as steel. She knew him well; Halfred Hamfast never turned away a fair business proposition.

"Your mighty young to be smoking so much," said Halfred. "But business is business. How much are you willing to offer?"

"Oh, for pity's sake!" exclaimed Belladonna Boffin suddenly from the other side of the table. "He's a family friend, Halfred. Just give it to the lad!"

"Without any payment?" said Halfred incredulously. "Give him some of my fresh Longbottom Leaf, home grown on my plantation, hand picked just this morining..."

But he was too late. Hanna, who had removed the leather pouch of leaf from her father's coat and had been showing it to her aunt, walked shyly up to Angry, opened the pouch, and held some out to him with her small hand.

Asphodel watched as Angry quickly took the leaf, mumbled a bit of thanks, and left to go back to his table. Hanna had now retreated back to her own seat, face red as a ripe tomato, and hid herself behind her aunt's cloak. Asphodel smiled. Her sister definitely had a fancy for young Mr. Brandybuck.

Halfred said nothing. He simply grabed the pouch, which had been left on the table, stuffed it in his jacket, and shoved his pipe discontently back into his mouth.

"Well," thought Asphodel, "at least he didn't see Angry with the Big Folk."

"Perhaps," said Belladonna after a moment, "you should try growing vegetables, Halfred." She smiled. Halfred scowled.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:13 PM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

"Hir? No it couldn't be. You are dead." Ferethor said, slowly and in wonder. "You perished in the passing of the marshes of the Dead." Ferethor realised that his fist was clenched upon the knife hilt and slowly undid it.


"Not yet," And Hirifilen grinned. "Though it was the merest of chances that brought me out alive." He went on, "This is a poor welcome indeed for your brother, Thor. but you've never had much of a curtsy."


Ferethor gasped, was about to speak, but only stared at his lost brother. "Thor, you've done well, I see. Captaincy of a regiment in one so young - and the trust and friendship of the king."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:47 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Imladris]

Finduilas: blind girl of Gondor

I set my lyre aside, my fingers brushing the strings. I didn't want to cease my practice, but Elentari had told me that the blisters on my fingertips had broken and that white water, mingled with blood, oozed from them.

A chill settled in my bones as a cold wind crept through the window. Crickets chirped, the coo of an owl on the hunt, the squeak of a rat scratching about in the walls.

I yawned and said, "I don't know about you, but I am goin got bed, Elentari."

She said goodnight to me and I heard the door softly close as she swept from the room. Groping my way to my bed, I curled up on the covers. It had been a good day...I had actually plucked a simple tune...an elvish tune

Snuggling under the covers, I wondered where Iris was. She could not be alone, sleeping under the branches of a tree with the dead leaves as a coverlet. I should go after her, and brave the stairs and the swarms of men still dizzy with drunkness of wine. But Iris could take care of herself: if she wanted to be here she would have been in the room already...

[SonOfBombadil]

"Whats wrong? You seem as if your distant." Lewis looked up to the question. "Oh, I am sorry. I must be getting tired." Lewis said in reply. Now that he thought about it, he was a bit tired. It had been quite a while since he had last slept. The amazing company of Ravon, had kept him going throughout the day.

He returned to the conversation. "I guess it is coming time for me to rent a room," he said, "and you too I suppose, you are staying for the night?"

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Crystal's eyes opened for her to find that she was lying on a bed in the sleeping quarters of the inn. Hama was in a chair next to her and was smoking a pipe. The rich smoke curled upwards from his mouth to the ceiling. "Where is the horse and the rider?" he said as he breathed out another mouthful of smoke, "Where is the horn that was blown? They have passed like rain on the mountains."he sighed. " The days have gone down in the West, into shadow"as he said the last words he looked up at the ceiling. He looked back at her and saw she was awake.

He smiled widely as he put a hand on her forehead. "Sleep, little one. I will be here" Hama unpinned his cloak pin and put it on the dresser, the then fastened his cloak to the two buckles on his armour. He reached out and attached the pin to her clothes at the neck.

" If it gives you half the luck it has given me, you will be safe for a terrible long time to come." He smiled again and then returned to his chair. He put the pipe back into his mouth and puffed on it again, letting the smoke curl slowly up about his face...

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal couldn't see, her eye sight was fuzzed. She only felt a hand of a man on her forehead and heard what he said.

"Thanks," Crystal breathed as her eyes darted wildly over the room.

"The hobbit, Mr. Brandybuck. Has he left?" Crystal asked as tears fell from her eyes. Her coughing started up again, adding to her sobs.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree left the room. It seemed that Hama had everything under control. "Hama I'll go fine this Mr. Angry. That is if she would like for me to do that." Cree walked out of the room and headed strait to find Grimm. She saw that he was waiting for a chance to talk to Aman. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "So your going to stay the night?"

She knew that everything for her would be fine. Once again she felt herself becoming dizzy. Now what? The room was beginning to spin and she didn't want it to happen again. Suddenly she felt what seemed like the floor of the inn hit her. Cree you shouldn't go on that journey alone with just him. You need others to go with you.

She began to cough almost as if she was choking but nothing was there. She came to and reached to her side where she noticed that she was bleeding. She could taste the blood in her mouth but it didn't want to leave. She looked at Grimm. "I'll let you find yourself a room." She began to stumble back to her set but felt the room spin.

Her knees became weak and she fell to the floor. She could hear a voice coming from somewhere but she didn't know where from. She was back in Eryn Lasgalen. She rememebered the council meeting she had snuck in to hear. But instead she wasn't herself. She was her father. She was reliving the day he died. Cree quickly tried to wake herself up. But she couldn't.

This isn't normal. Whats going on with me?

[Angel_Queen]

"Yes I'm going to stay for the night. First I need to find myself a room." She looked at Lewis. "So I guess we both should be finding ourselves a room. But I have enjoyed talking to you so much."

Ravon was beginning to feel tired. She had had a long journey from Eryn Lasgalen and it brought her this far. "I am almost afraid to go to sleep." She knew that there was nothing to be afraid of. "I just don't want to stop talking to you." She felt her cheeks becoming warm. "I'm sorry."

Ravon felt a cold chill go up her spine. Evidently I'm not the only one who doesn't want to end this conversation.

[Angry Brandybuck]

Angry ran quickly away from the Hamfast family, saying a quick thankyou, forgetting all worries he had about being villainised for talking to Crystal. AL he was worried about was Crystal.

Where was she? What was wrong with her? Why hadn't she said something to him earlier? Where had they taken her? What had they done to her?

He thought Hama, the Riddermarker, had gone to look after her so he was calmed a bit by that thought; he was a trustworthy man. Aman told him where they had put her and he quickly found the room (evidence of a long, mis-spent youth in all the inns around the Shire). When he entered the room was thick with rich smoke and lit by a single fallow candle.

"how is she?" he asked Hama in hushed tones, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

[Lumiel]

There was no man standing over her, ready to make her "learn" a lesson. There was no harsh-eyed woman ready to toss her out again into the night. Instead was a man with an extended hand, a friendly hand, that took hold of hers. As she looked into his eyes, she was struck by the intensity of them. Somehow, he knew her, or at least understood what it was like to be her. Her defiant face wavered for a moment as she was helped to her feet. As much as she disliked having to be helped, she knew when she should be thankful. "Thank you, sir." she said loud enough for him to her.

Then she disappeared amongst the crowd once more and watched from a distance. Curiosity of the man who had helped her overwhelmed her fear of retribution from any of the patrons and she stayed. Besides, it was warm. The man seemed lost in thought of something, and she wondered what he was thinking about. Later on he began a conversation with another man and she turned her attention elsewhere.

The lady who was ill, Cree was her name she discerned, seemed to have many who cared for her. Blessed and Cursed, she thought. Will I ever be Blessed? Or only Cursed? She pitied the woman. Whatever she was sick with was not a pretty thing. It seemed similar to what had taken her mother. But she didn't like to think of such things and crawled a little closer along the wall to the fire and curled up. The warm air and the a stomach with food in it made her drowsy and she tried to resist the embrace of sleep. She had no money and she was sure that she would be forced to leave when the Inn closed up for the night. Yet fight as she might, sleep overtook her and she dreamed of a home and memories taken too soon from her. When morning came, she would know the outcome of her stay and face the consequences. But perhaps she could find a place for herself here.

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"Where is that server maid?" said Halfred in an irritated voice. "I ordered our meal nearly an hour ago." He removed his pipe from his mouth and placed it on the table next to his empty ale mug.

"The Dragon is busy right now, father," said Asphodel. "I'm sure Miss Brownlock will be around shortly."

"Well I hope so," said Halfred, "for we've been here longer than any of these strange blokes!" He waved his hand around the room to indicate the Big Folk.

Asphodel signed. She wished now that she was back at her house, with her mother Primrose and her youngest sister Marigold. Primrose was probably making her Shire-famous sweet corn cakes right now. Asphodel closed her eyes and tried to imagine it; the warm, cheerful glow of the fire in the kitchen's iron stove, her mother in a pretty yellow dress and apron, removing the cakes on a wooden slab so she wouldn't burn her fingers. Primrose's sweet cakes were usually golden brown squares the size of a Hobbit's fist, and smelled like baking bread, except sweeter.

Primrose, however, was not the most famous cook in the Shire. Though her sweet cakes were always the best, Halfred's sister, Hilda Brown of Bagshot Row, could cook anything well. Asphodel rather envied her cousin Tolman, and her Uncle Holman, because her Aunt Hilda could take the simplest of recipes and change them into masterpieces. Asphodel half suspected she was magic.

"Well," said Asphodel's father suddenly, "it's about time. Thank you, Miss Brownlock. And could you bring me another ale?"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:03 PM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Pipe weed?" Aman replied, skeptically. She wasn't sure that this hobbit wasn't still bluffing. But he glanced around, and for a moment, the Innkeeper thought she saw some sort of truth there, or he was a better actor even than most of the customers who had tried to blag a stay.

She nodded once, smiling slightly. "Lets see a sample of what you have then. Good pipeweed never goes amiss in the Green Dragon Inn."

As the hobbit fumbled in his pockets, standing straighter now to allow him to do so, Aman glanced at him, taking him in briefly. She liked to have a face to talk to; it was easier to trust than the back f a head. As the hobbit was preoccupied, she turned to the man who had sat down on a stool a moment ago, patiently waiting his turn (a rare and welcomed pheomenum), and smiled warmly at him, her eyes absorbing him quickly. A soldier by his bearing and clothes and, if she wasn't very much mistaken, that was the crest of Gondor he wore on his clothes. He also looked almost dead on his feet.

"Good evening, sir, would you be wanting something to eat or drink or, as I suspect, a meal?" The Rohirrim Innkeeper grinned at him, tipping her head slightly to one side as she asked the question. Talk of Rohan could wait; this man looked ready to drop.

[Kransha]

The hobbit quickly drew several satchels of pipe-weed, each with a label that told what variety it held, and set them down on the bar as the innkeeper turned her head towards the man behind her. He didn’t wait for the woman to turn back, hopping off of the stool and inching his way backward. He assumed that he had put forth enough payment for a night’s sleep and some food. There were still plenty of pouches with him, to be used for his own devices, and he didn’t need the others.

Humming quietly to himself, he avoided getting too near anyone as he made his way into the depths of the inn to find a room. It had been a long day for him and he would look forward to some rest after the journey from Longbottom. As he passed, he took notice of the other inn residents in their various situations. Though some of these folk piqued his curiosity, he thought it better to avoid contact with them. Even though the innkeeper was nice enough, he stood by his belief that men from the south had no place in any of the four Farthings of the Shire. He grumbled about this under his breath as he tried to find an empty room. He would get something to eat after some well-deserved sleep.

Tobias Hornblower was a simple hobbit with the flaws that all hobbits had, as far as he knew. He was overly lazy, though his family business made up for that, and could be a bit buffoonish at times, usually after the event of smoking for too long. He did know, however, a little more about tact and cunning than many other hobbits in the Southfarthing, which had led his family and friends to believe that he might be a Brandybuck or a Took in disguise to get at all the weed in the Hornblower family stash. He had a particular disliking of outsiders which had surfaced within him after the Great War. He, being one of the older members of his family at the time, was the hobbit most angered when the Hornblowers’ pipe-weed was commandeered by the Shire’s “new management.” After that, he never showed any inclination of caring about foreigners and tried to associate with them as little as possible, even though they seemed to be everywhere nowadays.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm gasped more loudly now and his head felt heavy and he would love to have pillow behind his head now. Grimm looked at the hobbit that stood by the counter. The hobbit fumbled in his pockets for something and he saw that Aman looked at him and smiled. He rose and walked over to the counter. "Good evening, sir, would you be wanting something to eat or drink or, as I suspect, a meal?" She said and smiled again. Grimm smiled to her. Then he suddenly remembered that she was rohirric. "Well..." he started but suddenly paused.

"No, I have already been eating and drinking a lot and now I am tired, I would like to have a room to stay in for the night, Lady of Rohan." He said and smiled. Aman's face now had an amazed look, he thought he was Gondorian but he talked to her in rohirric. Many rohirrims here, he thought, I never knew there would be so many.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman's smile creased her eyes as the man replied in Rohirric. She didn't speak the language much, even to the Rohirrim customers; the hobbits obviously didn't understand it (why would they? What need would they have to learn Rohirric of all things, really?), and the Innkeeper tried not to exclude others in cliques - she was just about accepted by even most of the older hobbits who were more set in their ways. But still, the fact that he had recognised her as one of the Rohirrim and used the her own language gave her a sort of absurd happiness.

"As you wish," she replied in the same tongue, still smiling, and retrieved the log book from under the desk. "Your name here please, along with a signature if you have one, the number of nights here - this can, of course, he altered - and your homeland, if you so wish." She shrugged. "It's mainly for interest's sake."

She pushed the thick, leather-bond book across the bar to him along with a pen from her pocket. As he began to write, she caught sight properly of the little pouches on the bar and fingered them idly, looking around for where on earth that hobbit had got to...

[Orual]

Rie, Erulon, and Irewnath

Rie sat down with Eruantalon and Irewnath, balancing three plates precariously. She set them down on the table with no little relief, and wiped her forehead dramatically with the back of her wrist as she sat down.

"I'm famished," she said, though it probably wasn't necessary. She ate about half of her food before she stopped and sat back in her chair.

She glanced at her companions, who were trying to look casual, but were probably a little impressed by the small woman's display. She laughed, sounding more than a little sheepish. "So, Erulon, it's, uh, been a while," she stammered. "Any interesting stories you've gathered?"

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal heard the reassuring voice of Angry waft through the smoke filled air. Her fuzzed vision cleared as she smiled.

"Angry," Crystal whispered as she held a small hand towards him. She felt secure and felt as if she would make it through whatever had taken hold of her. She was safe now and that's all that mattered.

And he was here, he had been worried. She could tell that in the features of his face. She smiled as she felt the tremble in his hand.

"Why Mr. Brandybuck I do believe you are trembling," Crystal said softly.

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Halfred had certainly ordered a feast. Asphodel's eyes widened in disbelief as several servers came to their table carrying large, silver platters full of food. There was plump golden chicken and salted pork, slices of juicy roast beef, mounds of baked potatoes, legs of mutton, fresh tomatoes, purple grapes, green and red apples, celery, carrots, turnips; everything anyone could want. Asphodel half suspected her father of ordering every kind fruit and vegetable the Shire had to offer. Big loaves of freshly baked bread, and slabes of yellow and white cheese were also set upon the table, and a steaming hot silver basin of rabbit stew was placed in the middle.

"For love of the Shire, Halfred," exclaimed Asphodel's aunt, "this is a mighty feast for just four Hobbits! We are known to have good appetites, and mine is as good as any, but to eat all of this we would need at least one more companion."

"I'm afraid it will not be enough," said Halfred, "for I have four more coming at eight o-clock." He pulled out his gold pocket watch. "That is in but fifteen minutes."

"Four more?" exclaimed Asphodel. "Who could they be?"

"Well," said Halfred, "first there is Fastred Longfellow. Then Pinto Goldburrow, Gormadoc Chubb, and my nephew Tolman Brown."

"Cousin Tolman is coming?" asked Hanna excitedly. "Good! I can show him the Longbottom Leaf that I picked this morning!"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:17 PM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Kransha]

Tobias wandered aimlessly throughout the inn, still trying to avoid the gaze of the innkeeper. He knew he’d probably paid enough for the room, but he didn’t want to risk speaking to her again before he’d had his fill. He decided that rather than ordering food and drink, he might “borrow” some, very tactfully. He soon spotted a perfect target; a table with much more food than the four hobbits who sat at it could eat.

He walked over as calmly as he could and addressed the young hobbit girl instead of the man who’d obviously ordered the meal. He hoped for more lenience from her. He hadn't been in this part of the Shire in ages, and didn't recognize the hobbit maiden and the others around her at the table.
“Excuse me, madam,” he said politely, with a false charm on his aged face, “I was just wandering by and noticed the succulent feast you have here. Though I do not doubt your hunger, I suspect you may not be able to finish such a gargantuan meal. I would willingly finish off whatever is left and grace you with a satchel of my finest pipe-weed as payment for the gift.” His right hand moved to one of the pouches of Longbottom Leaf on his belt.

He waited for the response of someone at the table, his stomach making a visible growling sound. His fingers began moving towards the mutton legs. He tried in vain to avoid drooling over the feast.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:31 PM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor was silent, but his mind flashed through the hard life he has led.

The desease that took his mother. The betrayal of the easterlings. Burning of Greenwood the Great. The battle at the edge of Dead Marshes. Compromise that took his father's life. Running from the brick of death and memories that shattered his soul, wandering over the face of ea. Minas Tirith. Guard, lieutenant, then captaincy.


And from the shadowed memores of the past, his half-brother, come to claim his own... His life.


"Hir." Ferethor spoke, when he was able to control it from betraying fear or hatred. "What business brings you over hill and dale, from the brick of death to the far land of the North?" He instantly realised that his voice was still tinged with anger, but Hirifilen never noticed much anyway.


"Can't you guess?" Hir stared at him, but Ferethor met his gaze with his hard, grey eyes without casting it down. "You've always been keen-glanced, Thor, and looks inside both mind and people easily. I think you already know why I am here."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:52 PM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

A strange noise approached the Green Dragon Inn. No, it was not the clippety-clop of the brown pony’s hooves, nor the tinkling of small bells attached to its bridle. Rather it was the strange passenger the pony was bearing. An old man, singing a strange song, and laughing all the while.

Why, that’s Aldwine. Or at least that’s what his latest name was.

What does he do? Why, he collects tales, of course. And what a collection this man has. He had travelled all around, listening to stories of other cultures. From the Forochel in the North to Harad in the South, this guy has probably gone everywhere.

Except the Shire. But that's about to change.

Someone approached him, probably a stable hand. Aldwine went down and said to the man,

"Oh, don't bother taking my horse to the stables! Iaroch won't go for hay, anyway. He only feeds on living grass."

He walked on to the inn. Stopping at the threshold, he breathed deep(to smell the air; a habit before entering a place), and walked on, saying, "Ah, a good this one is! Reminds me of the inn the Beornings have!"

As he seated himself on one of the vacant tables, he pulled a pen and notebook out of his sack. He then went around the room, as was his wont, listening to snatches of story one might be kind enough to tell.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:48 PM January 29, 2004: Message edited by: Nilpaurion Felagund ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor rose. His voice was bitter, but neither were they sad or afraid. "My life?" At that clipped question, Hirfirilen threw back his head and laughed. "What use shall I have, little brother, for your death? My revenge is buried in the path I've trod for seven years.

"So you say." Ferthor sad, not slakening his wariness, fencing. "So you may even believe. But I see your anger, however well you disguise it, burning behind your laughing eyes. You're consumed with undeserved hatred, and it made you a man eager to destroy."


"If you will be only satisfied with my life, then so be it. But I am not going to help you in any vile thing that you're plotting in your heart. It's going to end with my death anyway - you've never had much faith."


Ferethor left the room.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm wrote his name, number of nights, his homeland and signature in the book and handed it back to Aman. "Good night, my Lady" he said and bowed. Aman smiled and bowed too. Grimm left the room quickly and walked up the stairs. He found his room and entered. It was wonderful. He gasped again and rubbed his eyes.

It was hard to sleep, he really wanted to know how it turned out with Crystal and Cree. He sighed and closed his eyes. After a while he fell asleep and started dreaming about Rohan. Grimm thought the dream felt so real, as if he really was riding on the fields with his brother by his side. He woke up and looked around himself. He then realized he was in his room at the Inn. He layed down again and fell into sleep.

[Angry Brandybuck]

When Hama didn't answer Angry saw that he had fallen asleep by Crystal's bedside. Quietly he walked to the bed and looked at Crystal.

Her skin was waxen and pale in the fat candle light, Her breathing was only perceptible from a slight rising and falling of her breast and her closed eyes darted back and forth beneath their lids. His heart ached as he stood and took in every deatil of her. He was feeling so helpless, so utterly utterly helpless.

All he could do was to pull up a chair, kiss her upon the forehead and sit holding her hand in his, idly tracing circles on her palm.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree realized that she was alone. Slowly she walked over to Aman and asked where Grimm was. Once she found that out she began to slowly stagger to the stairs. Upon finding his room she began to knock furiously.

"Grimm.. Grimm." Suddenly without knowing it she dropped to the floor. Her head hit the door. "GRIMM." She knew she would end up waking someone. She didn't know who. The door opened and her body hit the floor. Her side was still bleeding and she couldn't figure out why.

"I'm sorry." Cree quickly slipped into what seemed like sleep.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm woke up by the sound of someone knocking on the door to his room. Who could it be at this late hour? He slowly walked over to the door and opened it. He got terrifyed as he saw Cree laying on the floor. She was hurt and he could see blood at the floor beside her. "Cree? CREE! Wake up!" he said, he got more and more frightened. "I'm sorry." Cree quickly whispered with effort. Grimm fell down on his knees and held her head up. She had faded again.

What to do now?! Don'y get paniced!! Grimm lifted her up and carried her. He looked around himself to find her room. A hobbit passed him by and he asked her "Excuse me, do you know this young Lady? Do you know where her room is?" The hobbit nodded and said "Over there." Grimm said a short 'thank you' and ran to Cree's room. He placed her on her bed and he sat down in a chair trying to think about what he should do now. Water! She must have water. He got her a glas of water and tried to wake Cree. "Cree? Cree, wake up." He got worried as she didn't answer.

Then she suddenly began to move and she mumbled "No! It wasn't my fault!" She opened her eyes and looked at Grimm. Grimm tried to force himself to a smile.

[Witch_Queen]

"What happened to me?" She looked up and noticed she was in a room. She could feel that someone was there with her. She could remember that her side was bleeding. "I had another spell didn't I. But this one was worse."

She rolled her head over and saw Grimm was there. "Did I wake you up. I'm sorry." Cree tried to move but her side was hurting her too much. So it wasn't my fault after all.

Cree could remember what happened in her spell but not what she had done. "I'm so sorry that I woke you." She moved her hand from her side and saw that it was a deep rubey-red. Cree could still taste the blood that was in her mouth.

What if the next one is worse? What if it kills me? Am I so blessed and cursed at the same time?

[Fool Of A Took]

"You faded, my Lady, you are hurt" Grimm said and had a worried look on his face. What's happening? He handed her the glas of water and she drank it slowly. Grimm looked at her side and said "What is happening?!" He almost got scared now. Cree seemed like she didn't know what to say. She looked out the window and Grimm did it too. It was dark outside and it was all quiet. Grimm felt a tear falling down his chin. He didn't know why.

"You must tell me, Cree, maybe I might can help you." He continued. Cree looked up at him and her eyes looked sad. Sorrow was in her eyes, he could see it. Grimm was confused. Spell? Is she cursed?! He could almost not understand a thing. He stroke back his brown hair from his forehead and covered his face in his hands. All the sorrow in the room reminded him of his brother. And now he didn't want Cree to see him cry.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:46 PM January 29, 2004: Message edited by: Fool Of A Took ]

[Witch_Queen]

Cree could tell that Grimm was crying. She thought she got a glimpse of a tear. "Its okay Grimm. I'm not going to die. You don't have to hide anything from me." She could feel her heart beating. For a minute she thought her heart would burst. She placed her other hand on the hands he had over his face.

"Please.. don't." Cree moved her hand and realized that her side had stopped bleeding. "Well like I said, I'm not going to die any time soon. Thank you for the glass of water." She looked at the man setting beside her bed. Why does he seem so precious to me?

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne Brandybuck

Hawthorne had been put in charge of washing up the supper dishes. She had never seen so many dirty plates and bowls in her life. She'd needed tub after tub of hot soapy water in order to get everything clean. The skin over her fingers was all shrivelled up, the same way it looked when she went swimming for the entire day. Only, this time, there had been no swimming or fun, only an endless pile of work.

Hoping that she was finished for the night, she had tried to slip out of the kitchen when Ruby wasn't looking. But the keen-eyed hobbit had caught her escaping down the hall, nabbing her by the collar and dragging her back inside. Ruby had promptly given Hawthorne a half a dozen tea towels and said that the Bucklander must dry each and every dish that she had washed.

This seemed preposterous to Hawthorne. Why couldn't they simply let the dishes sit out and dry in the nice cool air? Just set them on top of the table and chairs and counters. Ruby had impatiently pooh-poohed this idea, explaining that the kitchen was too small to leave hundreds of items all scattered about. Everything must be dried and carefully put away for the morning.

With considerable reluctance, Hawthorne had spent the rest of the evening doing what Ruby asked. Now, she was finally free. Hawthorne took a minute to drop by the pantry checking on ingredients and then went outside to locate the chicken coop. She wanted everything to be perfect when she came down to the kitchen the next moring to make her little surprise. How pleased Ruby and Buttercup would be if she had finished cooking breakfast before they even went downstairs!

She'd gone out for a moment to find a seat in the Common Room and have a cup of honeyed tea. She propped her feet up on another chair and listened to all the conversations going on around her. She could hear a commotion that was going on upstairs. Apparently, someone had experienced a nasty fall, and others had gone to help.

By this time, many of the folk had cleared out of the Common Room and retired to their chambers. Hawthorne was just about to do that when she spied an interesting looking fellow who went by the name of Aldwine, or so some of the guests told her.

He had a pen and notebook and was taking down stories that people were telling him. Most of the stories were very sad indeed....tales of Elves and Men who'd faced terrible hardships and grief. Hawthorne would have liked to speak with him, but she wasn't sure what to say. In any case, all the hobbit stories she knew were quite silly or adventurous, and didn't sound anything like those that other people were reciting. Surely this serious fellow would not be interested in hearing about a hobbit girl from Buckland, and the stories her grandmother had passed on to her.... But she was extremely curious as to exactly who this gentleman was and what he was doing, especially since she liked stories.

Hawthorne sidled over to his side, tugging at his sleeve. "Excuse me, Master Aldwine. But why are you writing all that down in your notebook? Where do you come from, and what tales do you keep in your book?"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:03 AM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama dozed quietly while Angry sat at the bedside, his breath wheezed in and out. He twitched a few times, but Angry was looking at Crystal. "No..." said Hama quietly...

Angry looked at him, but he was still asleep, so he paid no attention... "No...no..." Hama started to tremble in his chair. Angry looked slightly concerned up at him, but it was obvious that he was only dreaming, so he looked back to Crystal...

Hama settled back down and started his wheezy breathing over again...

[spirit_detective]

The sun had just about sunk below the treeline, casting a long shadow ahead of Satch. Red hair that usually cascaded down to her waist was now reduced to short strands that only reached the top of her neck and were plastered to her scalp with sweat. Her attire of black pants, a white tunic, and a navy vest where laden with soil and tatters. The white tree of Gondor that had been sewn onto the vest with silver and white threads was all but completely pulled out. Blue eyes swept the landscape for a shelter, resting finally on the Green Dragon. Sighing with relief, she gathered her pack and rushed to the door of the inn.

'Please don't be closed. Please oh please ohplease.' Leaning her weight against the door, Satch managed to push it open, shut it behind and then slump down onto the stone floor. A hobbit came out from behind the counter. Obviously the innkeeper.

'Miss, are you alright?' The young girl smiled at the mistress and nodded wearily.

'I'm just wondering if you have anywhere to stay for the night.' The innkeeper smiled and led Satch to a room, handed her the key, and bid her goodnight. The two rooms on either side of her let out a mist of worry and sorrow, pressing on her already heavy burden.
Slipping off her boots and vest and crawling into the warm sheets of the bed, she relaxed and let her eyes droop. The message she carried may be urgent, but it could wait for her to rest one night.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal fought back to consciousness. Her eyes flashed opened and she looked up at the man that was holding her hand. It was Angry. He was rubbing her hand, slowly, and concentrating. His eyes were far away.

She smiled and blinked. She was feeling so much better. It was as if a miracle had been performed on her.

"Angry," Crystal breathed with a smile,
"I had hoped you would be here. Especially after what I told Cree to tell you,"

She squeezed his hand lightly and giggled.

"Why, Angry, I do believe you are trembling,"

[Memory of Trees]

Reign stared into the innkeepers eyes; she seemed friendly, and a little tired. Generally nice, she thought. Aman smiled at her incouragingly. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked again.

Reign swallowed hard, but when she spoke her voice was smooth and soft. "Yes, thank you," she said. "I need a room for the next few days. The size doesn't matter - I'll only be sleeping there. Do you have anything available?"

Reign waited for her to answer.

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel had been nearly on the point of spooning a bit of rabbit stew into her mouth, when she found herself unexpectedly addressed by a strange gentleman Hobbit. He pleaded for food in return for some pipe-weed. "Strange indeed," thought Asphodel. "What could have possesed him to want such a trade?" She gathered her nerves and addressed him.

"I should be glad to help you, sir, if I had any way of understanding you," she said calmly. "What in Middle Earth are you about, bartering pipe leaf for food? I'm sure there are many server maids willing to assist you, if a good meal is what you desire. You'll find that the Green Dragon Inn has some of the best service in all the Shire. Are you new to the Shire?"

"What's going on over there, Asphodel?" came Halfred's voice from behind the large soup basin. He stood up walked over to her side of the table. A white napkin was tucked like bib in the colar of his shirt, which he seemed to have forgotten momentarily.

"And who in the name of the Shire are you?" said Halfred to the gentlemen Hobbit, giving him an icy glare. "Why are you bothering my daughter? Did not you see that I am the head of this family, and that it is only proper to address me, and not one of my under-aged daughters?" The stranger was silent. "Address me at once, please, sir!" exclaimed Halfred.

Asphodel suddenly felt guilty for having been so nice to the stranger. Her father had also caught the attention of Hanna and Belladonna, who had stopped eating to watch the exchange.

Halfred had crossed his arms, and was tapping his foot impatiently upon the wooden floor.

[Kransha]

The hobbit, as always, tried to handle the situation with tact. He addressed the older hobbit first, to avoid further interrogation by the Halfling standing in front of him.
He looked overly nervous, but tried to conceal it with a pleasant smile.

“Good sir, I merely addressed you fair daughter first because I hadn’t noticed your head behind that soup bowl.” Toby swore inwardly, suddenly realizing how stupid that sounded, “If it is my name you wish to know, I can give it; Tobias Hornblower of Longbottom at your service. I have been come here from the south and only desired a little rest and sustenance before I continue my journey north in a few days. The reason I requested food of you was simply that I, most regretfully, have no money with me. I feared that the innkeeper might not accept a trade for that required food, so I thought it might be simpler to make the trade with a venerable hobbit such as you.”

He paused momentarily, hoping for a desirable response. Flattering rarely got him anywhere, but it was always worth a shot. He added one phrase for good measure.
“If you have no need of what I have to give, I will move on.”

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Halfred raised an eyebrow, obviously suspicious. His mouth was closed tighter than the lid on a jar of marmalade. Asphodel could tell he was contemplating the strange Hobbit.

Finally, though still suspicious, he said, "What have you to offer me, Mr. Hornblower?" Asphodel thought this was a good time to intervine.

"He wants to give us some Longbottom Leaf," she said. "You can get back what you gave to Angry Brandybuck."

Halfred sighed. Asphodel knew she had said the right thing. Besides, this Mr. Hornblower gave her a nervous feeling in her stomach, and she wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

"Alright," said Halfred reluctantly. "But I warn you, sir, I'll be able to tell if the leaf is poor quality, because I have a small plantation of my own."

He took the pack of Longbottom from Mr. Hornblower and observed the leaves, sniffing at them, scratching at them with the tips of his fingers.

After a long deliberation, he said, "They will do. Take a leg of mutton and a few other things, and be off with you."

Mr. Hornblower smiled graciously and bowed. After gathering his meal, he said his thanks and made off with his new bounty.

Asphodel breathed a sigh of relief. Halfred sat back down again and began eating in silence. Soon, everyone at the table had resumed eating.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 10:36 PM January 29, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm looked up at Cree from his hands and he could see she was tired. He rose from his chair and said "Well, you seem to need some rest. So I am going to my room now. But if you need anything or there is anything that I can do for you, just come over and wake me." The last words he said with a smile. Cree smiled back but she had a weak look in her face. She closed her eyes and Grimm slowly and quietly walked out of the room.

Grimm got back to his own room and he layed down in the bed again and closed his eyes. Yet this time it was hard to sleep. All his thoughts came back to Cree. Is she allright now? He drew a deep sigh and tried to think of something else. After a while he fell into sleep.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:17 AM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Fool Of A Took ]

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Hawthorne got a quick response and an even quicker smile.

"Oh, it's a pretty young halfling - sorry - hobbit! May I ask who you are?"

"Hawthorne. Hawthorne Bandybuck."

"Well, Lady Hawthorne, in this notebook I write tales all around Middle-earth. It's quite fun, to learn things about other people. Do you want to hear one of these stories?" he asked, looking intently at the hobbitlass' face.

"Well, I see you want to...

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:08 AM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Nilpaurion Felagund ]

[Primrose Bolger]

Her tiny face, brown as an acorn from the forest oak, peeked out from a ragged curtain of black hair. From the shadows of the great oak in the Inn yard, her dark eyes surveyed the Green Dragon. The great structure stood like a small mountain, she thought, cast up high from the earth that bore it.

Yellow light pushed back the darkness as it spilled from the windows, and highlighted the figures of those who passed by them. Tall, slender Elves – they would be beautiful, she knew. She had seen them in earlier days, passing through her woods. Grey cloaked figures passing silently beneath the silvered-grey leaves of the forest. And Men – they would have stern faces, sad, unused to laughter. The ones she liked best were the little ones who lived in this land . . . small like her. Close to the earth, they were, and lovely in their laughter.

Kiera pulled her tattered brown cloak about her and drew closer to the Inn itself. Up the steps she went, and stood on the wide porch, her hand flat on the door. Voices drifted out to her from the open window to her left. Too many voices, too much for her tonight. Her courage wavered and she ran quickly back down the steps, her bare feet stirring the dust as she ran back to the tree.

Quick as a red squirrel she shinnied up the trunk, her feet and hands finding purchase on the rough bark. One of the tree’s great limbs welcomed her, and she settled in to pass the night. Her head nestled in the crook of her arm as she lay along the limb, and she drew up her little brown legs beneath her cloak as best she could.

The night breeze rustled the leaves around her, a familiar, comforting sound. And she passed into dreaming of the Old Land she was bound for . . . a sea of trees, she had heard in the stories round the cooking fires . . . Druwaith laur . . .

[Kransha]

After a long deliberation, and careful inspection of Toby’s stash, the hobbit said, "They will do. Take a leg of mutton and a few other things, and be off with you."

Toby smiled graciously, concealing a slightly unsettling grin, bowed slightly, and scurried backward like a rat with some particularly exotic cheese in his possession. He had a large leg of mutton in one hand, a smaller piece of salt pork in the other, and several shining apples stuffed into his pockets. He didn’t bother thanking the donor of this meal, too busy with that leg of mutton. He settled in one of the chairs in the dimly lit end of the room, swung his surprisingly large feet up onto the table, and promptly began stuffing his not-so-venerable hobbit face.

In less than a minute, all that was left of the meal were some inedible strips of gristle and the cores of three apples messily strewn across the table top. Tobias gingerly wiped the corners of his mouth with the fringe of the table cloth and leaned back in the chair. He whipped out his pipe again, with an equally ceremonious flourish, and drew out a satchel of the finest Longbottom Leaf he had, laying on the table. Soon his delicate smoke rings were wafting through the room.

He listened to things going on around him, the conversations, arguments, even the meal chatting. He didn’t have an ear for gossip, but you never knew what interesting things you might hear if you listened. He only picked up snippets of unruly conversation, minced with the bubbling of ale and the tranquil crackling of the fire. He didn’t mind the lack of audible conversation. He was happy enough right here. With the pipe still hanging out of his mouth, he slowly dozed off in the chair.

[Angry Brandybuck]

Angry was overwhlemed to see Crystals eyes open and looking, bright and sparkling, directly into his own. A lump was in his throat from the thoughts that had been crowding his brain; thoughts of finally finding a woman that didn't find him repulsive the moment she saw him, and then losing her that same night.

Clearing his throat, he spoke with a voice quivering from hapiness and sadness and a whirl of other emotions. "Well, if I were to tel you the truth, Miss Crystal, I'd have to tell you that I was tremblin' with fear that you'd not be making it through the night, so to speak."

"Now you're up though, I guess you could say my fears are somewhat lessened. So..." he said, trying to hide the expectancy and trepidation that he was feeling "will you still be needing that place to stay? my door will always be open to you"

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne Brandybuck

A story?....

Hawthorne's eyes lit up and her face relaxed in a broad smile at the prospect of hearing a story. It was a good fifty miles from Brandy Hall to Hobbiton, and they had covered the ground as quickly as they could, camping outside at night rather than stopping off at Inns. They'd been too busy travelling to bother with story or song, and Hawthorne had missed that.

Even back at Brandy Hall a story was a rare treat. Her grandmother had known how to tell tales, and also her nanny Cami, who'd taken care of her when she was very young. But they had both been gone for some time, and neither of Hawthorne's parents were very good with stories. In fact, she had to read her precious books of dwarven tales and hobbit history out in the stables late at night, so her mother wouldn't notice what she was doing. Except for Hawthorne, all the members of her family considered such tales to be impractical and useless. Her mother was always reminding her that she would be better off spending her time figuring out ways to lure a rich Hobbit lad into her clutches so that she could marry well.

The best storyteller Hawthorne knew was Master Merry. The young hobbit would sometimes talk about the Scouring or how he had fought in the Great War. Of those fine tales, Hawthorne's favorite was where Eowyn helped to slay the Witch King and then went on to marry Faramir. Unfortunately, Master Merry was often busy with all the things he had to do to run Brandy Hall and help the families there, so he generally didn't get to tell such tales, except on special feast days or at a party.

All this flashed through her mind in a single instant. She turned around to face Aldwine and beamed back at him, "Oh, yes, I should very much like that. To hear a tale, I mean. It's been a while since I've listened to a really good yarn." She sat down on one of the chairs, beckoning him to do the same, and, as a gesture of courtesy, ordered both of them a large mug of steaming tea flavored with honey.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:21 PM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

All the Hobbits at the table ate without saying a word for awhile. Part of this was because they were all deliberating over what strange event had just occured. But part of it was also due to the fact that they were very well occupied by the business of eating. If there was one thing that could be said about the Hamfasts, it was that though they sure talked a lot, they liked a good meal so much that they only stopped talking at meal time. Eating was a serious matter to them. Asphodel, for her part, could not stop thinking about the strange gentlehobbit who had accosted them. After half an hour in this manner, it was Hanna who said something first.

"When are the other's going to be here?" she asked. She looked enquiringly at her father, who had just taken a bite of salted pork and was now chewing vigorously. "Is it eight o-clock yet?"

Halfred swollowed his pork, wiped his mouth and his hands on his napkin, and took out his pocket watch.

"It is now eight-twenty," he said. "Where are those boys, they're twenty minutes late!" He stuffed his watch back in his pocket and took a big gulp of ale from his mug.

"They'll be here," said Belladonna calmly. "Your friends are always late, Halfred. You should know that by now."

[Feared Half-Elf]

The woman breached the crest and stopped, watching the Inn. What was it? Oh yes, The Green Dragon. Well known, even in her homeland. Mirkwood, land of the elves. Or rather, it had been Mirkwood. Now it was Eryn Lasgalen. It was still the forest she had known from long ago.

She was elven, her light brown hair falling to her waist, and her blue-green eyes like the sea on a summer's day. She'd seen the sea many times. She'd travelled with the King Elessar through the Paths of the Dead, and fought when Merry and Eowyn slayed the Witch King of Angmar.

Now she stood for a moment, her silver mare still beneath her. The breeze ruffled her hair, making her black cloak move slightly. Her mare fidgeted, impatient.
"Hush Annufin. We are almost there for tonight."

She was Elkamia, the daughter of the King of far off forest to the east, forgotten by many. She lived mainly in Eryn Lasgalen, travelling back to her father Moraglas every so often. Now she was travelling from Minas Tirith, an errand given to her by King Thranduril. This was her second overnight stop. The third was probably to be Rivendell, then the two day trek to the great forest. So far away.

She neared the Inn, and then noticed the small figure of what seemed to be a ragged child asleep in a tree by the road.

[Primrose Bolger]

An Elf! Kiera heard the soft clip-clop of the silver horse as it drew near. She sat up, scrunching herself against the bole of the oak, and drew her cloak tightly about her. She sat still as death, only her sharp, black eyes moving as she watched the rider approach.

Fair as any of the Eldar, the brown haired maiden advanced, almost stopping at the tree. ‘Pass on!’ Kiera thought to herself. ‘Let me just rest for the night.’

[Arry]

‘Well, now, who’s that, I wonder?’ Alwin stepped out into the puddled moonlight just beyond the clump of tall birches that stood sentry on the path leading up to the Inn. It had been a long journey these past three days from the Twilight Hills and the welcoming light from the Green Dragon gladdened his weary spirit. Leaning against his blackthorn walking stick, he’d sighed in relief at the promise of hot food, strong, sweet tea, and the comforts of a soft bed. Even now he could feel his old bones sinking into the mattress as he pulled the warm quilts over his tired legs.

An Elven maiden had passed up the path already, he noted, slowing as she approached the great oak tree which stood in the Inn yard. It was then that the movement of the small shadow caught his eye, the hint of a small hand, brief in the moonlight through the leaves, as it drew its cloak tight. The figure had disappeared against the dark of the trunk, and he could not make the features out, though he squinted his sea blue eyes hard at the darkened canopy. The Elf on her shining mount had moved on toward the Inn.

Strangers are best left to their own devices, he reminded himself, thinking on the small, quick hand he’d seen. No need for an old man to go poking about in another’s business. Still his gentler nature could not resist a whispered offer as he passed beneath the oak. ‘Come down, little one. The Inn is warm, and I’ve coin enough for the both of us to fill our bellies. No need for fellow travelers to be cold and hungry.’

In the shadows beneath the tree, Alwin stopped and drew his pouch of coins from his belt. He fished in it, bringing out several tarnished silver coins, and placed them on one of the tree’s great roots. They glinted here and there in the moonlight that dappled through the rustling leaves.

A few strides brought him to the Inn door. He tapped the soles of his boots with his stick, knocking the residue of an earlier muddy path from them, and shook his grey cloak free of the day’s dust. It was busy in the Common Room as he entered. The sights and sounds and smells nearly overwhelming his senses. But there to his right was a cheery fire, and straight ahead the bar. And there behind it, the Innkeeper, brandishing her rag along its top like a good sailor keeping her decks clean.

‘A mug of hot tea, if you please, Goodmistress,’ he asked, leaning against the bar. Alwin introduced himself to the woman as she nodded at his request. ‘And a trencher of meat and bread, if you will.’ He turned away looking for a table, then remembering his other need, turned back. ‘And a room, please. With a soft mattress and two quilts, if I may.’

He balanced his stick against the edge as he brought out his coins, and looked at the Innkeeper questioningly.

[Kransha]

Tobias was snoring loudly, his full chest heaving up and down in rhythmic succession. Every few seconds, his head would loll to one side and he would say something inaudible in his sleep, and then turn over again. He didn’t often dream, a trait that most Hornblower’s shared, and if he did see some nightly vision, rarely recounted to anyone else afterward. He did considered dreams a form of unnecessary escapism from reality which no decent person should indulge. Dreams and tales of things that will never be do nothing but mangle any hobbit’s perception of reality, which was a dire fault which the Hornblower family frowned upon.

Tonight, though, Tobias Hornblower was dreaming. It was truly more of a remembrance, a sequence of images he’d kept locked within him to recall whenever away from home. He didn’t love his home, nor did he hate it. He was indifferent about his family but did not shun them. He did love Longbottom, though, and his pipe-weed plantation near Sarn Ford. It was always a sight that gave him comfort and made him feel calmer and more serene, ever a welcome picture to view in dreams.

And he dreamt, feeling a new horizon, somehow familiar.

Right now he was standing on the furnished porch of the Hornblower Lodge that overlooked the valley of Longbottom, surveying the gentle slopes and rolling grasslands, dappled with the bright colors of autumn. He could see the green patches of pipe-weed stalks swaying slowly in the warm breeze. A red-rimmed sky surrounded him with the murky light of the sun at dusk darting meekly between the dense clouds. Rain was coming at Toby’s stash would profit from it, having suffered a lack of rain during the brief drought.

The first droplets fell, beginning a light wave of drizzle that soaked the parched leaves after several minutes. Tobias looked at each divided grove of the leaf, each separated by birch-wood fences. He saw the sturdy stems of the Southern Star pipe-weed, the mingled strands of Old Toby, and the blooming strains of Longbottom Leaf relishing the summer storm as it slowly but surely drenched the greenery. The elder gentlehobbit looked upon the diagonal slope that stretched downward into Southfarthing Valley were the peaceful city of Longbottom was nestled. Each thatch-roofed shack and homely cottage boasted a generous garden brimming with plant life. Tobias’ own plantation grounds expanded throughout the city and spread over into the land on the other side of the valley.

Longbottom was the ancestral home of the Hornblowers and other hobbits who befriended them. It was the prime city of the Shire’s Southfarthing and its greatest producer of the Halfling’s Leaf. Ever since Tobold Hornblower first introduced the addictive habit of smoking, it had become a practical fad of the Little Folk. Tobias loved this position, the patriarch of a powerful economic family line. He could get away with almost anything he wanted in Longbottom and often tried to do the same everywhere else. He lived a comfortable life on his plantation, sometimes traveling to other farthings or towns. In the rest of the Shire, he was less respected because of his shady nature and slight lack of morals, but he didn’t care. He bided his time, and didn’t like any nosy folk who might interfere with the business of others, although he himself had done so on more than one occasion.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:17 PM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman nodded at the woman, pushing the log book across the bar from where Grimm had left it - she hadn't put it away yet. "Of course - and they are plenty spacious, just in case you change your mind." She grinned amiably at the woman, who smiled cautiously back.

"Thankyou." Her voice was soft and smooth, as if it was wearing slippers. But those who wear slippers are often creeping around trying not to disturb; who was this one creeping from? Aman bridled her inquisitive mind and showed the woman where to sign. Pretty little thing she was, the Innleeper thought as the other leaned over to write in the book, but she did seem so terribly nervous. Not that you would know it to hear her; perfectly confident.

As the woman was filling in the entry, another approached the bar, rather different from the former, asking for "A mug of hot tear, if you please, Goodmistress. And a trencher of meat and bread, if you will."

Aman smiled at the old-fasioned term, surprised - she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Goody Aman...good grief! She smiled secretly to herself as she turned away to pour the steaming water into a small teapot to let it brew with some of 'Brandywine's Finest' teabags. As she turned back, the elderly man introduced himself congenially, then, as if remembering, added a request for a room.

Although the man did have a spritely spark in his eye, Aman could well understand his request for an extra quilt - she remembered how her grandmother, although she rode as well as any of the rest of her family in the Summer, suffered terribly from her old bones in the winter. "Fear not, sir, the mattresses at the Green Dragon are as soft as they come."

Turning to the woman, the Innkeeper pushed a key across the counter. "For when you're done," she added, by means of an explanation. "The room is just up that flight of stairs - turn left down the corridor and its the second one to your right. If you don't mind waiting, I'll show you to it once I've put forward this gentleman's order. And sir," she turned back to the man. "If you could just sign in there - hang on, I'll just pop back and ask Buttercup to sort your order. How does venison sound, and gravy too? I'm sure this young lady won't mind telling you where to sign."

Smiling encouragingly at the shy woman, and hoping she wasn't putting her on the spot unfavourably, Aman turned back to the kitchen to find it empty. Thinking about it, she distinctly remembered seeing Hawthorne resting her feet at the fire. Sighing, she went in herself and opened the lid of the metal pot which sat on the sideboard, containing the remains of the meat, with the potatoes and vegetables in another pot beside it, ready to be made into a stew tomorrow. Sure, Hawthorne hasn't been at all bad today - especially after what that letter from Merry and that visit from the Mayor and Dandelion suggested, she thought absently as she began to serve the meat, and some potatoes, into one of the dipped plates. It was warm still, but not hot. Leaving it on the thick metal plate slightly overhanging the fire - meant for the very purpose of heating smaller dishes of food, an ingenious invention of Cook - Aman re-entered the Common Room.

"That will just be a few moments, sir," she explained to the man, then clapped her hands and addressed the Common Room as one.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as the evening draws in, the time for stories comes in with it! Please, feel free to come around the wide fire and listen to the stories from all over Middle Earth, even here in the Shire and, if you wish, tell some of your own!"

Smiling at the excited murmur that ensued, and more specifically catching the eye of an odd looking individual (if it was possible to describe one person spefically as being odd, here in the 'Dragon) who held a notebook and pen, sitting near Hawthorne. He seemed poised to write, but smiled absently at the Innkeeper as she caught his eye and allowed her eyes to flick to the notepad and pen. It seemed Hawthorne was about to begin the tale-telling - a Brandybuck through and through, to be sure, with all the boldness of her cousin Merry!

Turning back to the bar and filling in the key-numbers in the space on the entried, Aman then addressed the shy woman, who still hovered by the bar. "Would you like me to show you your room now, or later, miss...?" She left the space open for a name, should it wish to be given, not asking directly; secretive folk often passed through the 'Dragon, and this slipper-voiced woman might not be an exception.

[Arry]

A promise of stories to accompany his meal! A rare treat, indeed, thought the old man, running his hand down the long length of his grey beard, smoothing it. His eyes twinkled at the thought of hearing another voice other than his own, and his mouth bowed up in a smile.

It had been a long road this time, and still further to go. Much of it spent in solitary wandering, with only the wind and the croakings of frogs to lighten an evening’s meal.

He took the key from the Innkeeper with a nod of thanks, and wandered to a small table by the window. The mug of steaming tea clasped close in his hands warmed them, and he pushed his tired back thankfully against his chair. One of the serving maids, Ruby she said her name was, said his meal would be out soon. She flashed him a quick bright smile as she moved on to the next table.

The sea of voices rose and fell about him, but he did not heed them. His gaze went often to the darkened tree in the yard. And he wondered at the one who would choose such a hiding place.

[Kransha]

Tobias was rudely stirred by the sound of hands clapping together. His eyes fluttered open wildly and he snorted indignantly, his pipe falling to the floor. He scooped it up quickly from the floor and sat back again in his chair. He listened to the lady innkeeper as she mustered the attention of the masses and spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the woman in a jovial and gentle tone of voice, "As the evening draws in, the time for stories comes in with it! Please, feel free to come around the wide fire and listen to the stories from all over Middle Earth, even here in the Shire and, if you wish, tell some of your own!"

Tobias narrowly avoided snorting again. ‘Stories,’ he thought ‘what a futile way to spend one’s time.’ A Hornblower had no use for fairy tales and works of embellished fiction. Toby Hornblower had heard the stories of Mad Old Baggins and his kin and had no need of them. If he’d never seen a troll, orc, or oliphaunt, why should he believe they existed? He believed what he saw, and what he saw pleased him just fine. He needed no tales of heroes and damsels and dragons, no legends of ancient creatures and foul demons. They were the addled concoctions of children and maniacal old coots, not dignified gentlehobbits such as him.

But, for the sake of argument, Tobias decided to listen anyway. He supposed he could enjoy critiquing the work of fiction to satisfy his own curiosity. He leaned forward against the table’s edge, casting an aimless glance at the table beside him and the darkened window the sat above it. He was met by a strange sight.

First, he noticed the object outside the window. In the gnarled branches of a twisting tree, a figure twitched slightly, at least so much to prove it was not inanimate. It was no woodland beast, as shown by its size. Tobias couldn’t see it well through the murky glass pane, but he could tell that it was some bipedal figure sitting on a sturdier branch. Who in their right mind would take up residence in a tree branch?

Second, he looked to the other figure looking out the window. It was a man, taller than any Halfling, with a full beard of grey. His gaze lingered upon the old man for a moment too long, seeming rude to anyone who noticed. He did not like foreigners, a fact which he often established for anyone he met. Men of the south didn’t belong here in the Shire. Even Bree-men shouldn’t wander here too much, encroaching on the property of any self-respecting hobbit of quality. The qualities of good breeding in Bree were questionable, despite the alphabetic irony. Men of any sort ought not to make themselves comfortable on hobbit land.

His sharp bird-like eyes turned back to scanning the room, waiting for the yarn to begin. He could have a good laugh about the tale with his friends in Longbottom when he returned to the Southfarthing. He coughed loudly, cleared his throat, and waited, his eyes still turning back to the aged man every now and then.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:01 PM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal smiled brightly.

"Of course I'll be needing that place to stay Mr. Brandybuck. And I thank you for worrying about me. No one has since my mother,"

Her eyes held his and she was sure that she had found the one man she wanted to love forever. This time her heart wasn't lying.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree woke up during the night. She couldn't sleep any more. "He's gone." She walked out of her room and headed towards where she remembered he was staying. "Grimm! Grimm are you asleep?" She feared that she would have to spend the rest of the night alone.

Right now all she wanted was someone to talk to. Someone she didn't have to worry about dieing on her. She needed to talk to Grimm. She had to thank him for helping her.

[Kates Frodo Temp]

Lon smiled at the happy noise of the inn as he stood just outside the door. His father would be angry, but no matter. Tonight was happiness, was freedom. And really good ale!

He pushed back the hood of his green cloak and stepped inside, humming a travelling song he had learned from a little fellow along the road. The Green Dragon! The best news, and the best drink for miles! The food wasn't half bad, either, though he had never eaten any warm: the talk was too engaging.

He walked up a to very busy Aman. "Excuse me, can I get a room? Just for tonight?" Though he never raised his voice, not even in the din of this room, Lon's earnest tone always caught the ear of the one he was speaking to. He looked always as if he were sharing some great secret, or telling a rare joke. More often than not, he was; his twinkling eyes and soft smile made everything he said seem a gest.


Lon followed Aman over to the bar, where he signed for a room. "Thank you. What's good to eat tonight?" He made his order, and stood at the bar to wait.

"Don't you want to listen to tales like the rest?" Lon looked up at the sound of Aman's voice, smiling. She never seemed to like him standing around.

"Not tonight. Haven't you got a riddle for me?"

[Memory of Trees]

“How about that one?” Reign asked Aman.

The innkeeper smiled at her. “I think it would suit you very well, miss...?"

"Reign," she supplied.

Reign, then. Follow me, please.” She turned and led Reign up a flight of stairs.

Reign followed Aman up the stairs and into the room. It was small, containing nothing but a bed and a squat table in one corner.

“Is this alright?” the innkeeper asked as she set her candle on the table.

“It’s fine,” Reign said quickly. “I’ll take it.” She was worn out, and Aman seemed busy. She handed the woman some money. “It’s enough for three nights,” she said. “If I need to stay longer, I’ll give you more. Thank you.”

Aman smiled and left the room.

Reign removed her boots and settled herself on the bed, savoring the comfort of a real mattress. The smell of food from downstairs made her hungry, but the cost of the room left her a little short. Her own food would do well enough tonight.

Reign undid the drawstring from the bag that lay beside her on the bed. She took out a package of bread and cheese, only slightly stale, and a flask of luke-warm water. As she ate, she let her thoughts wander.

She could see her family, just the way they looked at suppertime, all smiling and happy. She could see the expression on her mother’s face as she asked for the soup, and the way the corners Father’s eyes crinkled as he laughed at a joke. But most of all she saw Jesse’s face, Jesse smiling, Jesse laughing, Jesse telling her a story about Ripred the One-legged Bandit. She loved the way his dark eyes flashed and sparkled, turning from excited to serious to happy to sad like a continually shifting kaleidoscope.

She had gone out to the field one evening to call him to dinner, just as she had done every night for as long as she could remember. Father had gone into town that day, so Jesse was seeing to the farm himself. Her father and Jesse always ended the day in the cornfield, and this year had been an especially good one.

She had known that something was wrong when she could not see her brother’s dark curls bobbing up and down behind the tall rows of corn. She started to run, pushing the thick stalks aside and calling his name.

Then she saw him, laying facedown on the ground, and she was screaming and telling him to get up, and there was blood … so much blood … maybe he was sleeping … she tried to wake him up … but the blood …
Then everything went black.

Through the dimness, she could hear voices, and the voices said that she had fainted and that everything was going to be okay now. But as the voices moved away they said something else, too, that her only brother was dead and someone had killed him. Not Jesse! They were talking about someone else’s brother. Jesse was sleeping in his bed across the room. Orcs, the voices went on. Orcs had killed him with his own scythe. Hacked him to pieces in the field for no reason but cruelty. And now someone was screaming, screaming like their skin was being peeled off or something terrible like that. And it was herself who was screaming. The voices thought she was sleeping, but she was not, and Jesse was dead. Her own beautiful brother lying dead on the ground.

Reign jolted back to reality with her mouth filled with blood. She had been biting her tongue, and it throbbed with pain. She took sip of water from the flask, snuffed the candle, and lay shivering in the dark. Eventually Reign fell into a restless sleep.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 11:04 PM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Memory of Trees ]

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Come down, little one.’ He must think her a child. Though, he had called her a fellow traveler. Surely he did not think children would be about at night, alone. The tall ones were puzzling, a fact she had heard from her father, and learned on the road.

There was a certain kindness in his voice that made her listen to his words. She saw him fiddle with something at his belt and heard the clink of metal on metal as he bent beneath the tree. When his tall lean figure had disappeared into the belly of the Inn, she peered down, seeking what had interested him so much. Moving the leaves aside let the light filter down to the ground in larger splotches, and there, perched on the gnarled length of the root, were several rounded, silver objects.

‘Coins,’ she whispered with a certain surety to the leaves that pressed in against her. From somewhere in her mind Kiera pulled that word up. She rolled the word about in her mouth, tasting the sound of it. She had none of her own; her people did not use them. There was the small bow and arrows, or her sling with its pouch of thumb sized rocks for food. Tasty roots and berries when game was scarce, and always the sweet water of flowing rivers for drink. Still, they were a necessary thing in those parts of the world where people crowded together and dwelt in immovable structures.

This would be a chance for her to pay in kind what was expected at the Inn, she thought. Before times, at other Inns, she had brought in a stringer of quail or one of fish, trading for what she needed. Now there would be no need to haggle over a price. She would present her coins and none would look askance at her.

But they were not really her coins, she argued with herself. If she took them she would be a beggar, or worse yet a thief. Kiera pulled her knees up beneath her chin, encircled by her arms. Rocking back and forth she considered how to keep her honor clear. Perhaps he would trade for them. Though what of hers would one of the tall ones want from her? She fingered the necklace of small rough pebbles her brother had made for her. Precious it was to her, but not to the old man she supposed. Her weapons and hunting gear were minimal and she could not afford to lose one of them. Except for the water skin she carried and the clothes on her back, there was naught else she could think of.

Then, from her belt she took the slender pouch that held her small number of personal items, and poured the contents out onto her now outstretched legs. A small carved wood tree frog; a stone, more crudely carved, in the shape of a lumpish seated man – ‘May the Old Ones look after you,’ her mother had said, pressing it into her hand when she left; the whorl of a river snail captured in a small piece of grey stone. A short, thin wooden bird whistle and a little clay pipe wrapped in cloth one of the bearded ones from beneath the ground had given her. None of these, it seemed to her, would carry interest for any other than herself. Last to roll out was a small green stone. She held it up between her thumb and forefinger, admiring the glint of moonlight through the glassy surface. Perhaps he would like this – she had seen such captured in metal bandings and worn as decoration by the tall ones.

Kiera scooped her treasures back into her pouch, and secured it at her waist. Quick as a wink she was down the tree, grabbing the coins in a single pass of her nimble fingers and scaling up the trunk once more.

Tomorrow she would visit the Inn and leave the old man her stone in payment.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor found himself outside the inn, staring at the star-speckled Northern sky. The sky, in all it's transperancy, seemed blurred. Why? Then he realised that he must be crying. Abashed, he dashed his tears away.


"Why am I crying?" Ferethor asked the glimmering silmaril of Earendil, greatest of the twinkling jewels of Varda Elbereth. "Guilt? Bitter memories? Yet I had no choice."


He impulsively headed to the stable, where his horse Apple was saddled and ready to ride. Then, a thought striked him like an arrow. "Why should I flee ever from my past and my momories? All man must find their way through the cold halls of Mandos and sail away one day. Should I deny my better judgement, ever running to no purpose?"


Ferethor turned back into the inn. Jostled men looked angrily at him, but it was the least of his concerns.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm was so tired. He thought he heard a voice outside but he was too tired to get up. Maybe it's Cree, and she might need help. I just can't ignore her. He rose up and walked to the door. He was right, Cree stood outside, but she didn't seem to be sick this time, actually, she smiled.

Grimm smiled to her, but still couldn't understand what was wrong now. Though this Inn was nice, it had only been problems here since he came. His mood sank, and he could picture Rohan in his mind. The open fields, the sun, all the horses. His mind came back to reality and he looked at Cree. "You feel better now?" He waited for Cree to say anything.

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"Stories!" exclaimed Hanna excitedly. Others began to assemble into the next room. "Can I go listen to the stories, father? Please?"

"No, my dear," said Halfred. "Not until you've finished your supper." He anxiously took out his watch again. "Eight-thirty," he said, in an irritated voice. "They're really late, now."

The Hobbits had nearly finished their meals, and were comming to that stage the Hobbits of the Shire called "filling up the corners", when a familiar face came through the Inn door. He was a young Hobbit lad, around Asphodel's own age, and looking remarkably like her in appearence. He had nut-brown hair and eyes, and was of small stature, for he stood only three feet and three inches tall.

As he approached their table, Asphodel smiled as she remembered all the times they had been mistaken as brother and sister. But Tolman Brown was not her brother. He was her first cousin on her father's side.

Halfred, on his nephew's entrance, had stood up to greet him with a pleased look on his slightly wrikled face. But when he realized that Tolman was alone, his pleasure quickly turned to irritance.

"Where's Gormadoc?" he asked, though dreading the answer. "Where's Fastred and Pinto? Are they not comming too?"

"They're at my house," said Tolman, as he sat down next to Asphodel. "They came to pick me up to come and meet you, and my mother insisted on cooking for them."

Belladonna smiled, "I suppose they 'forgot' their dinner with Halfred at the Inn. Hilda Brown is, after all, the best cook in the Shire. Nice of you to come, though, Tolman. Humor your uncle."

"Confound my sister!" exclaimed Halfred. "I've paid a good deal for this feast, and no one is going to eat it."

"Why don't we take it home, father," said Asphodel. "Mother will not have to cook for two days at least."

[Arry]

The tea kettle came round and his cup was filled once again. The hot liquid rushed down his throat, the heat of it seeming to tingle at his toes as he wriggled them in his boots. Blessed be the simple pleasures, he chuckled as he sat the now half empty again mug on the table.

It was Buttercup that brought his meal. A delightful lass with a generous smile and sparkling eyes. ‘My thanks, Mistress,’ he told her as she placed the platter of meat and taters before him. The peas and carrots winked at him from their buttery sauce, but he stayed his hand. Turning in his chair to the West, he closed his eyes, and fell into a moment of silence, his lips moving in some short, imperceptible phrase. Then, with a nod and a will, he tucked into his meal. And the savoriness of the simple offering before him was echoed by delight which shown on his face.

Mid-bite, he noted a curious fellow at the table next to him. Bold for Gentle-hobbit, he thought, as the older gentleman stared at him with his sharp eyes. Bird-like eyes. No, not a bird, but rather the bright considering eyes of a more acquisitive animal. The sharp face of a rat flitted through his mind. The Hobbit’s bright green vest and just-so, tidy white shirt could not hide the nature that lurked within, nor could the false charm that settled like a mask on his face. ‘Best not entangle in any deals with that one’, he thought. ‘A shrewd trader, I’m thinking,’ as he watched the man assess him with a calculating look. ‘And the scales would always tip to his side, by hook or crook.’

A quick motion at the periphery of his vision drew his attention back to the tree. The small shadow stood up from its crouch over the tree’s root, and now ascended once again. Alwin smiled, hoping the coin would bring the other what comfort cold metal could.

Buttercup had come round again, nodding at him in approval as he sopped up the last of the gravy with the final wedge of bread. ‘You’re too tall for a Hobbit, sir,’ she said, smiling wide at him. ‘But to be sure, you’ve got a Hobbit’s appetite!’ He laughed outright at her words, and she rejoined with a challenge. ‘Now, don’t prove me wrong, sir. We’ve apple pie and bread pudding. Which one can I bring you?’ Much to her delight, he did not disappoint her. He asked for a bowl of the pudding.

He was not disappointed when it arrived – sweet and tasty and studded with plump currants, like dark jewels on a field of white velvet. She brought a small pitcher of clotted cream, and poured a generous portion over the sugar-crusted top of it.

With a sigh of further pleasure to be encountered, he sank his spoon into the midst of it.

[Eorl of Rohan]

"Thought you won't run away, Thor." Ferethor realised that Hirifilen had followed him. "Not again."


Ferethor whispered, under the shadow of the buzzing conversation in the common room, "If we are drawing blade, let's go outside."

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"Well," said Belladonna finally, throwing down her napkin and sighing satisfactorily, "If the rest of you folks are not interested, I'm going to take Hanna over by the fire in the other room to hear some stories."

"Stories! Stories!" cried Hanna excitedly. "Can I, father? Can I? Aunt Bella will take me."

"Oh, alright," said Halfred, though he seemed reluctant. Belladonna stood up and took Hanna's hand, who was jumping up and down in her excitment. She lead her niece nimbly through the maze of strange creatures and wooden chairs and tables, into the next room and out of sight. Asphodel smiled. Her sister loved stories, especially the ones about the adventures of Frodo Baggins the Hobbit who went on an journey to destroy a magic ring. Featured prominently in these tales also were three Hobbits of the Shire: Mayor Samwise Gamgee, Master Meriadoc Brandybuck of Buckland, and Master Peregrin Took, son of Thain Paladin Took. Asphodel often wondered if they had all really done the things that the tales said they had done. Indeed, they were strange Hobbits; Master Mariadoc and Master Peregrin were extremely tall, and were often gone from the Shire for many months at a time. Where they went or what they did, nobody knew, but there was no doubt about their strangeness.

"Before we put this food into sacks to take home," said Halfred from across the table, who had again lit his long wooden pipe and was smoking with relish, "I think you should have a bit of supper, Tolman. The meat is cold by now, surely, but no one ever minded a bit of cold meat." He began to fill and empty plate with food, but Toman shook his head.

"Thank you, uncle," he said respectfully, "but I'm not hungry at the moment."

Halfred gave him a sour look. "Did my confounded sister stuff you with bread, too? Why doesn't she just feed all the Hobbits in the Shire?"

"Indeed, Uncle Halfred, my mother did try to make me eat, but I wasn't hungry then, either."

"Not hungry?" said Halfred, amazed. "Why, I've never heard of such a thing. I know you've just turned thirty-three, but you're a young lad still, my boy. We could squeeze some height out of you yet. You're mighty scrawny for a young man. I may not be tall, but I've got meat on my bones, well enough."

"Thank you, sir," said the gentlemanly Tolman, "but I really am quite content."

"As you please, then," said Halfred, as he began wrapping up the meal in brown paper and putting it in a cloth sack. "But I've half a mind to talk to my sister about you. One would think she was starving you half to death!"

[Kransha]

Tobias Hornblower’s nose was twitching, very akin to that of a rodent sniffing. For someone watching this strange motion, that person would have a hard time trying to categorize the facial contortion. Some would have said it was an interrogative movement, designed to absorb a sensation in the air, while others might’ve said it was more an expression of supreme dislike. Either way, it wasn’t an aesthetically pleasing process to watch. The elder hobbit got slowly to his feet, as if the task was twice as strenuous as it actually was.

In an instant, he was gone from the sight of those around him. He scurried through the flickering shadows cast gently against weary inn walls and flitted like a part of the warm darkness around the tables and chairs. Once he’d reached the other end of the room, he was richer by two bread loaves and several ripe tomatoes. If someone had been clumsy enough to let the victuals slip from sight, that someone probably didn’t value them highly. Toby lifted one piece of bread, tossed it up in the air, admiring his handiwork, and took a large bite out of it, savoring every taste sensation. He popped the half-eaten loaf into the innards of his waistcoat and began pacing merrily across the large room, quietly congratulating himself on the new supply he’d gained.

No one ever noticed the loss of a single coin there, a ripe fruit there. Tobias was adept at whisking away unneeded things from those who weren’t looking. He actually prided himself on it, since no one else had ever discovered this habit of his. Even his family in Longbottom was oblivious to the fact. Over the years, Toby Hornblower had accumulated a great many items to add to his collection. He was by no means a kleptomaniac, even though he did enjoy a challenge every now and then. He only stole when he felt it necessary, or he had a good reason. He'd pilfered one or two non-necessities, but only to present as gifts for family or friends...on most occasions.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:53 PM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Crystal]

She sat alone at a table in the corner of The Green Dragon Inn, watching the people entering and leaving. She was wearing a black hooded cloak, and the only thing that could be seen were her icy blue eyes. She smiled beneath her hood, as she watched someone else walk in. She had a sudden urge to unsheath her sword, or perhaps even cast some kind of spell upon the newcomer. She instantly didn't like him. There was something about him that filled her with hatred. She almost wish that he would come over to her, that he would try to start some kind of trouble. She figured he was the type to start trouble for absolutley no reason at all. She could tell it by the look of him. She watched him as he walked toward her.

"Hello," he said to her, "Mind if i sit here?"

She smiled sweetly beneath her hood and said, "of course i don't mind, why would i?"
But the hatred continued to flood her. She could tell that he had did many horrible things in his life.

"What's your name?" he asked her, after ordering a drink.

"My name is Evita" she said, rubbing her hand longingly on the handle of her sword, "And you are?"

"I am Juggernaut," He said, "you seem familar to me,"

Evita smiled. She knew his name well, and she knew why she seemed so familar to him.

[SonOfBombadil]

"Don't be sorry Ravon, I also do not want to end this conversation. But it is dark out now, and if we do not get our rest now, then we'll not make very good company tomorrow." Lewis said with a smile.

He continued, "Shall we go and see if there are any rooms left?" Lewis stood up and offered his hand to Ravon. He looked at her and noticed that she looked tired, yet she was still just as beautiful when tired.

[Kransha]

The old and shrewd hobbit made his way back into the dank corners. Soothing firelight cast eerie shadows onto furnished wood that stood on the walls beside Toby. He walked briskly through the shade behind several tables and toward the corner of the room. He saw a small table with two shady figures at it. He smiled as warmly as it was possible for a cold and calculating hobbit as himself could and walked over to it.

He looked for an instant at the hooded figure, who now sat beside another dark silhouette that could be barely seen in the dim but warm light coming from behind him. He came nearer and spoke, hoping to strike up a little conversation before gaining a few more trinkets. Newcomers were always easiest, never wary enough of their valuables or purses. That was the simplest way to go about his kleptomaniac pursuits, since foreigners never suspected or had the courage to make accusations. No one ever pointed fingers at a wealthy and dignified gentlehobbit such as himself, fearing prosecution or even social ostricism.

“Excuse me, madam,” he said pleasantly, though his eyes glinted a little too much to be pleasant, “Would you mind terribly if I sat down here? I fear my weary legs need rest and I would very much desire some friendly conversation." He blinked warmly, projecting the familiar mask of friendliness he had assumed with everyone else he met. He knew that most people saw through this mask, but that didn't matter to him. Of course, he didn’t wait for the woman to answer before pulling up a chair and making himself comfortable. He didn’t expect a stranger to mind his rudeness. He could see very little of the woman but a pair of glowing blue embers beneath her hood. He suspected that those were eyes, though he couldn’t tell.

“So,” he continued, “I haven’t seen you around. What’s your name?”

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:50 PM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Aldwine's story

There was a child named Elendír, born in the wilderness of Arnor during the late Third Age. His earliest memory was listening to his mother tell of the wondrous tales of the Elder Days, and of the glory of Elenna. Suddenly his heart yearned for more stories of old, and he went to the house of Elrond, in fair Rivendell, to learn more of the ancient lore of Elves and Men. As he grew older he heard of other races of Men; of the Beornings, the Bardings, and of the Men of Bree; and wondered what tales of silliness or sadness might those people tell. So, he journeyed far and wide, listening to tales of other lands, and he was glad.

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

Aldwine paused to think. After a while, he said:

"Do you know where Elendír is now?"

Hawthorne looked up to the old man, seeing joy gleaming in his eyes, and she knew the answer.

"That was your tale. You are Elendír."

Aldwine clapped his hands, and said, "Yes, that was my tale. Now, since I'm done, I'll drink some of this fragrant tea, while you tell me a tale of the Shire."

[Eorl of Rohan]

Erenir watched the Elbereth's stars sparkle in the shadow of night from the window of Green Dragon, sipping water. 'Silver flow the glimmering waters of Anduin, and golden elanors even besprangles the shore of shire.' Erenir said, her thought straying back to the days of her youth, when she frolicked among the elanors and nimbrethils in the fields of Calanedhron, also named Rohan.


She could hear snatchs stories being told among the people - "Farewell, O twice beloved! A Turin turamber turun ambarten. Master of Doom by Doom mastered - O happy to be dead! Nienor Niniel daughter of Hurin cried out, and cast herself into the.." The tale of the children of Hurin, Erenir realised. Holbytlan children gathered around the man, who was telling that sad story. A little golden-haired holbytlan lass climbed onto his knee - he seemed to be a familiar presence in this inn. Interested, she leaned closer.


"It is said that Hurin wandered until he cast himself to the sea in despair. So ended Hurin, the mightest of mortal warriors of men. Thus became the curse of Morgoth Bauglir fulfilled, and all the doom full-wrought." The hobbit lads sniffed, and one lass burst into tears and hung onto his leg. "Poor Hurin!"


"Wait, Pansy, the tale is not finished." The man laughed, stroking her hair. "But the Valar took pity on the children of Hurin, and they forgot their sorrow in entering into the living fire, and they would ride with the host of Valar when Melkor would be unchained at the end of the world."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:33 AM February 02, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Feared Half-Elf]

Elkamia sat in a corner near the fire now, her keen elven ears listening to the stories that were being told. She had seen the hobbit whisking away food and coins from under the noses of others. It was none of her business, unless he tried to prey upon her. She would say nothing.

It was comfortable here, but she was still troubled by the figure in the tree. Again, it was none of her business, but she couldn't help but wonder. Why? Why, when the Inn here was comfotable and with kind figures always with a smile? She should retire to her room soon, it was a long journey ahead of her tomorrow.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal smiled at Angry.

"Yes I still need a place to stay, Mr.Brandybuck," Crystal said as she continued to smile.

He was still holding her hand and Crystal certainly didn't mind. It felt natural and normal and there was a connection that had been made. A connection that flowed through him and into her.

With her other hand she unclasped the other necklace that Angry hadn't seen. She pulled it up and hid it in her hand. She took his other hand and put it in his palm.

The necklace was just a simple jewel that her mother had found when she was a teenaged girl. It was beautiful and very special to Crystal.

"I want you to have this, Mr.Brandybuck. Cree did tell you my message right?"

[Witch_Queen]

"Yes I feel so much better now. Though my side seems to still hurt me a bit. But other than that I do feel better. I know you were trying to get some sleep. Do you believe I can talk to you for a little while?" Cree could tell that he was tired. "I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."

Cree began to walk away but stopped. "I would love to talk to you before I leave tomorrow. Since I don't know when that will be I was hoping to get to talk to you tonight. I know you must be so tired, but please." Cree was beginning to remember her home. Always she wasn't allowed to talk to her father after he went to bed. It was always a bad thing for her to disturb him.

"Please?" She felt like a child again. But her childhood was always short lived.

[Angel_Queen]

She felt so tired. Even though she had only arrived that day it seemed almost like years had passed. "Indeed you are right. We should see if we can find the innkeeper." She looked around. "I believe there she is."

Ravon got up and walked to the bar. "Excuse me are you the innkeeper?" She looked at the woman. "We would like a room." She could tell that the innkeeper was tired. Perhaps there are so many visitors that there is only one room available. If I'm lucky there will be two rooms atleast.

[Angry Brandybuck]

Angry looked at the jewel Crystal had thrust into his hand and wept. Wept with joy about having finally found someone. Wept with sadness at knowing that his parents would never accept her. Wept because he knew that she felt the same as he did for her. Wept because, deep down, he knew, or felt he knew, that it could never work.

No, he mustn't think like that. If they tried they could work around things like his parents, and gossippy hobbit-wives. If they loved each other, and they did, they could conquer all. Do not cry! he told himself.

He rose, dried his eyes with the back of his hand and said to Crystal
"Come on Crystal dearest, we're going home"

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal smiled, as tears swelled in her eyes. He loved her, that she knew more then anything else in the world.

She pulled herself up off of the bed and continued to hold Angry's hand. She stumbled as she lost her balance. He helped her to her feet and he braced his arm across her back.

"I love you Angry." Crystal said shly.

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel watched her father smoke his pipe. It was not the most interesting thing to observe, but it was really all she had to do. Her cousin Tolman, who sat next to her, seemed indisposed for conversation. He turned his head this way and that, watching and taking in all that was around him. He was certainly a curious young lad.

Asphodel sighed and put her head and her arms upon the table. She hoped that her father would take her home soon, for it would be a long walk back to their farm. She considered joining her sister and aunt in the other room to listen to stories, but decided against it. She was not much in the mood for tale-telling. Asphodel had just given up hope of finding anything to do, when she was suddenly startled by a deep booming voice that came from behind her.

"Well, if it isn't Halfred Hamfast!" it said. Asphodel jerked her head up just in time to see one of her father's friends pull up a chair and sit next to him. It was not Pinto Goldburrow, Fastred Longfellow, or Gormadoc Chubb; none of the three that had been supposed to meet them. Instead it was Sigismond Proudfoot.

"Good evening, Miss Hamfast and Mr. Brown," said the man, inclining his head towards Asphodel and Tolman. "I just thought I'd come and have myself an ale at the Dragon, and what do I know but I find myself in the company of good friends. I'm as lucky a Hobbit as can be, I am. I didn't expect nothing, just to come and have myself an ale all by my lonesome. But then I come in the door and there you all was, just sitting and being merry, like any good folk would do."

Of all Halfred's friends, Asphodel liked Sigismond Proudfoot the least. He was a bit inclined to talk way to much about nothing in particular. His appearence, also, was a bit unseemly. Sigismond was an old bachelor who lived in Bywater but a five minutes' walk from the Green Dragon, and was a worker at the local watermill. There had been a rumor there-abouts that Sigismond Proudfoot had been decended from a hairy pig. It was a very silly rumor indeed, but Asphodel thought that it must not be far from the truth. As in the tradition of all the Proudfoots before, Sigismond had enormously large and incredibly furry feet. He was not very tall, though taller than Halfred, and he had a large belly and thick limbs, and a large mane of dark, tangled hair. He probably had much Stoorish blood in him.

Asphodel found Tolman, as Sigismond was engaged with her father, leaning over to her and whispering in her ear, "My mother could probably knit mittens out of the hair on his feet." Asphodel quickly concealed a smile.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:50 PM February 02, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm was so tired and he tried to hide his gasp. Cree looked at him with a sadness in her gaze, and Grimm felt really sorry for her. "Of course we can talk now", he said and smiled, "though I am tired". She smiled to him. "Is it very important?" Grimm asked. Cree nodded and now seemed very serious. They went into Grimms room and sat down in front of the small fireplace.

Grimm leaned back in the chair took up his pipe and lighted it. Cree sat straight-backed in the chair with a little bit expression. Have something happened? He really wanted to ask that, but he awaited Cree to say anything instead. It was quiet and Cree squirmed in her chair. Now Grimm couldn't hold back his question. "Have something happened?" he said and heard that his question sounded dumb.

Cree looked down and seemed to avoid Grimm's gaze. Grimm didn't know what to do, nor say. He awaited Cree to say anything.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama chuckled as Crystal stood up, a rare grin spread across his face as he opened his eyes and stood up from his chair. "It is most charming, young hobbit, that you should seek to take this lady to your hole, or whatever it is you call them, but she should stay here. She will be safer here." Crystal looked as quizzical as she could and said "What?"...

"You should have known, Crystal heart, daughter of Dorian, as indeed should I, that your father will has many spies in every corner of Middle-Earth searching for you. Sadly I did not realise this up until now. He wants you back more than anything, Crystal. Not to embrace, not to love, but to punish.", he looked sad again. almost as if what he was about to say was a physical burden to him.

"A rider left not an hour ago...he was from Rohan and bore the crest of your father. I do not know for certain what this means, but I fear thw worst..."

[Witch_Queen]

"I realized that I am leaving tomorrow. I really don't want to leave you here.Plus I don't know about leaving anymore. I've found someone who makes me happy." Cree looked up from the floor. A smiled had formed on her face. Cree could tell that Grimm was tired. "I know you must really be tired.I know that I really shouldn't have waken you.For that I'm sorry." Cree felt her side begin to hurt again. She stood up but imediately fell back down.

"My side." Cree placed her hand on the right side of her stomach. "Its hurting again." She could feel the pain in her skull. She could tell that if she moved too much it may begin to bleed again. She sat back down to try to ease the pain.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:46 PM February 02, 2004: Message edited by: Witch_Queen ]

[Kransha]

Tobias got up, not waiting for an answer from the two people sitting idly at the table. He at first thought that they had not heard him, but he decided that it was in his best interests not to continue the conversation. Toby was a cold and unsettling hobbit, but these two were even more eerie, not responding and staring out at him, the one from under her hood with disturbing orbs of ice that stung Tobias with their cold nature. He decided to find warmer conversation, literally. The room hosted many folk of varying size, age, and kind, so Toby would not have trouble finding some other hapless victims of his harmless sport.

He headed forward, ambling across the large and comfortably arranged room towards more strangers. He didn’t know how acute southern men were, but he would soon find out. Toby Hornblower figured he could slip the purse out of anyone’s full pocket, even that of the horse-folk, who these two seemed to be. There were two women near them also, but Toby did not address her, learning at least some tact from his last encounter.

He’d heard names bandied around, so he addressed them with those as best he knew. He first spoke to the ones who were apparently called Hama and Grimm, which was all he knew of the Rohirric men, who were speaking currently to a woman of similar gait. They bore the familiar markings of the horse-kingdom, the Riddermark as it was called. Honestly, Toby despised foreigners from such a place, but he needed conversation to mask his purpose. Even though he knew the names of these folk, he didn’t speak them, for fear of seeming to bold, which he was. As soon as a second of mental preparation had passed, he spoke up.

“Good sirs,” he said to the man, “I haven‘t seen you around here often and you look to be of distant parts. I am a simple hobbit in need of good conversation and I would very much like to know your names.” After a moment he added, “If you please,” for good measure. He had on his familiar inbred smile, a mixture of assessment and pleasantry which didn’t look as pleasant as Toby hoped it looked.

He made sure to address both men in a sense. His question was not directed at either specifically, so either could answer. Once he’d struck up conversation, he could get on with his necessary business with more assurance of their nature and that they would not suspect a little loss of goods or funds.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:36 PM February 02, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal stopped at Hama's information.

"A rider from Rohan here? Why would ever suspect the Shire? I never desired this place before, I never loved it. Why would my father send a rider here? I sent my trail away from the Shire heading towards Gondor," Crystal said angrily. Her head began to spin and she sat back down. She began to cry.

"Why [deleted by moderator]can't I get away from him?" Crystal asked herself as she cried.

He haunted her in her dreams and in her waking hours. The thought of him finding her made her dread and fear. She hadn't slept soundly in so long.

"I'm sorry Angry. You'll be in danger if my father finds out that you are helping me."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:50 PM February 02, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne

A tale of the Shire?....

Hawthorne boldly leapt up from her chair, "You have told me a fine tale, Master Aldwine, and I will share one as well, although I am not a storyteller by nature." The lass reflected a moment and leaned over, whispering conspiratorially. "This is not a tale of the Shire, but of my family the Brandybucks who hail from Buckland. Bucklanders are not quite so calm or settled as those living in the Shire; their burrows are close to the great trees of the Old Forest, whose spirits sometimes stir and whisper odd things. But this tale goes back many years, long before my folk arrived in Buckland or even in the Marish."

As Hawthorne spoke, the nighttime shadows crept over the Inn. A number of lanterns flickered out, and the fire in the hearth burned low as soft flames died and turned to silver ash. Hawthorne nodded towards the storyteller, "You mustn't write this down. Only keep it in your head. If you promise to do that, I will tell you about the founder of our clan. My last name is ‘Brandybuck’, but long ago, our family was known as ‘Oldbuck’ and before that 'Zaragamba'."

Once Master Aldwine agreed to Hawthorne’s request, the Hobbit continued with her story, “Granny once told me, and later on Master Merry, that our family was founded by a pair of hobbits called Camelia and Merimac Zaragamba who lived in a settlement long forgotten near the banks of the Anduin. I begged Granny for stories of Mistress Cami, and she would tell them sitting before the hearth at Brandy Hall with all the children gathered round. But always she reminded us that some of Cami’s stories remained concealed in honeyed mists and even those we remembered contained mysteries that could not be understood till the end of time. That is why we never set these tales down on paper, and Cami does not appear in any of our genealogies, even though a few of us in Buckland remember her, if only as a legend. The name 'Cami Goodchild' even pops up now and again. I even had a young nanny who went by the same."

Hawthorne grabbed her satchel and reached inside, drawing out a bronzed hand mirror and passing it into Aldwine's hands. It was a sweet thing, a lady’s mirror that seemed very old. Part of its surface was rubbed clean and smooth from the gentle touch of many hands over endless years. Further up on the back of the mirror, Aldwine could see the remnents of a faint design of twining leaves and flowers surrounded by Elvish runes. He had trouble making out the letters. It was definitely Elvish, but not the common Sindarin script. He looked at the words intently but could not untangle their meaning.

“This is lovely,” he sighed, tracing his fingers over the fading design and admiring the craftsmanship before handing the mirror back to Hawthorne.

“Yes,” she smiled. “I think so too. Granny said that Cami’s closest friend was an Elf and that she cherished that friendship for all her life. Her friend gave her this mirror as a gift. Perhaps that's hard to imagine since the fair folk usually hold themselves apart from the likes of us Hobbits. But Mistress Cami was different.”

“Granny said that Cami had her fair share of happiness and sorrow in life, but time and duty carried her far from many whom she loved. And the Elf was one of these. Still, she never forgot her old friend in good times or bad. And although she did not speak of it to others except perhaps her husband, she grieved for the loss.”

“One day...it was right after Merimac's death. Her husband had been killed leading an attack against the Orcs. He’d saved their village and all the settlements along the river. Their eldest son Gamba, always restless and uneasy, was now made more so with the loss of his father. One day, he packed up his belongings, journeyed to the northern mountains, and made a new home there. He brought two of his four brothers with him and married a mountain lass.”

“Cami had a hard time accepting the fact that death and choice had broken up her family. Years before, she and Merimac had taken in the lads out of love; Cami had been the only mother they had known. The boys had not been easy to raise, especially the eldest, but she had tried her hardest and muddled through the best she could as many of us do. The departure of her three sons coming on top of Merimac’s death came near to breaking her spirit. For a while, Cami even turned away from her other children. She was despondent, constantly doubting whether she’d taken the right path in life, and wondering if she should have done things differently.”

“Burdened down with grief, the Hobbit took the mirror in her hand and stared into its depths, pondering all that she had lost. I do not pretend to understand this, but Granny said that Cami saw an image of her friend, as if the Elf actually sat in the same room with her. Then, Cami caught glimpses of the Elf and her husband flashing by in rapid succession. At the end came an image of sorrow and hope. The Elf pensively read a journal that had once belonged to her friend, while her three children played nearby on the rug. There were twins Cami had already met but with them was one new daughter, a loving but stubborn toddler who'd been given the name of 'Cami'."

"Cami wept again; only this time there were tears of healing. She understood that nothing had been lost, only tucked away in another place, and she felt at peace with herself. Perhaps someday she would meet her friend again, since the Elf had chosen a mortal husband and life. And so too it might be with her own husband and missing sons. And every time thereafter, when things seemed very hard, she took up the mirror and looked into it, sometimes seeing a shadowy image of her friend."

“Is the tale true, do you think?” Aldwine whispered.

“I believe it to be true. I have heard this mirror came from the City of Gondolin. The Elves of that time and place knew many things lost to us. And there are other strange stories told of Cami, how she had visions and dreams that were later proven true. But that is not all...”

The small hobbit stopped and looked down, hesitant to say more. Only when Aldwine gently prodded her did she continue. “One day not long ago, I journeyed through the forests of Buckland, a part of the woods that lies near the Withywindle, a truly strange place. And I took the mirror with me, for I had a decision to make and I did not know what to do. My Uncle Merry and his new wife had brought me along on the trip, but they had gone out to gather mushrooms and shoot some game. Sitting alone in the camp, I drew out the mirror and stared into it.”

She glanced sideways at Aldwine and lowered her voice. “I swear that I saw in its bronze pool not one image but two. First that of an Elf, not the sad and moping kind one sometimes sees in the Inn, but a woman who was bright eyed and commanding. Then, I saw a second figure, this one plump with a mop of curly hair that had grey and brown streaks. It was a hobbit laughing, who fit the description of Cami that Granny had given to me. The faces were gone so quickly. I have only the vaguest memory of the Elf, but the image of the hobbit stuck in my head.”

Hawthorne looked embarrassed, “Sometimes I talk to her image in my head, although she does not answer. But that moment in the woods, I decided to go out on the road as Cami had done, and that is why I have come to Hobbiton and perhaps will go to other places as well.”

Aldwine looked over interested, “Have you tried to find the Elf? In books of lore? Or perhaps her kin are still alive today?”

Hawthorne shook her head, “No, I do not even know her name. And I would not have the courage to approach an Elf to ask, even here at the Inn. I shall have to be content with my dream pictures. I have seen nothing more in the mirror, but I keep it close by. Just in case.”

She glanced at him imploringly, “Please keep this tale to yourself, for I fear that some Hobbits would call me fey. I would rather not have others know that this strange vision is one of the reasons I have decided to set out from my home. But for now, I will bid you goodnight for I have a special project planned for the morning.”

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:18 AM February 03, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

As soon as Hawthorne Brandybuck had left, Aldwine began to close his eyes. To all else he would look asleep(in fact, once in Harad, someone had attempted to rob him while in this state. I should say that the thief was quite disappointed), but his mind began to work fully, recalling the tale Hawthorne had told him. He had promised not to write it down, but it was now fully committed to his memory. It was one of the best stories he had heard in all his travel. I made a good decision of staying here in the Shire. he thought, a slight smile forming on his lips.

He had quite a few of those stories: An ancient heirloom, a magical relic from another time, which links the past and the future, and forms bonds between otherwise sundered beings. Maybe that's why I loved those stories. The old man rose from his reverie, and drank the last of his tea.

[Eorl of Rohan]

The man suddenly called to Erenir cheerfully. "A wonderful storytelling eve, lass. Would you also like to tell a story from your native lands?" The little girl, who the man had called Pansy, affectionally tugged at her clothing. "Please do!"


Erenir, who couldn't resist the charm of these children, drew closer and said, "How about the story of Tinuviel?" A lad piped up, "But Arenion just told us that story!"

[Witch_Queen]

It was getting to dark for Aduthondiel to see. "Lights, finally." She sighed with relief. She pulled the hood of her cloak down to let her black hair fall into place. The elf woman was finally happy to find life after all. To think we thought we wouldn't see anyone ever again. She reached down and began to stroke the mane of her horse.

She tied the horse to the nearest tree she could find. She could tell that she no longer needed her thick clothes. Aduthondiel made sure that her sword was hidden in her cloak before she continued walking towards the light. "Hmmmm. The Green Dragon Inn. Sounds welcoming. " It was easy to tell where she came from. The cloak of Eryn Lasgalen was easy to see.

She opened the door and walked in. Suddenly she had to squint her eyes. The darkness outside made it difficult for her to adjust to the light. Aduthondiel looked around and noticed that there was a group of people gathered around a young child who appeared to be telling a story of some sort.

She walked over to the fire and sat down in one of the chairs. She noticed that there was a commotion going on. Now to find Crystal. She walked up to a woman. "Excuse me has a woman by the name of Crystal been here."
"She's up there." Aduthondiel turned to go to where the woman had said. She looked down the hall and saw many doors.
This is where the woman said she was. Aduthondiel knocked on the door. "Crystal are you in there?" She thought she heard footsteps so she pulled the hood over her head to help hide her face.

Aduthondiel had a cut down her right cheek which was healing well. She stood there waiting for the door to open. Surely this is her room.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm didn't know what to do, neither say. Isn't she going to leave tomorrow anyway? Grimm's head was full of questions. He was confused. He looked at Cree and tried to find something out to say. He fingered on his necklace that he got from his father before he died. The pendant on the necklace was a golden horse. He loved that necklace, and it had always bringed him fortune. As he got reminded of his father, his whole childhood came back to him. His father had always been a good man. He had loved his father more than anything. He remembered that he grieved much when he died. His mind came back to reality and he found that Cree was almost asleep. Grimm felt tired too. He gasped and shook Cree's shoulder. Cree just mumbled something and turned her head. Grimm shook her again and this time she woke up. She opened her eyes slowly. She smiled at Grimm and Grimm smiled too. Grimm could see that she still was hurt in her side. "Are you sure you are alright?" he asked with a concerned look in his face. She nodded and sat up in the chair. "I can see you are tired." he said with a smile, but still he was worried about her side. "Can I see your side" he said and rose up. The wound looked like a big scar. "I think you should see someone who has medical knowledge and get cured of that wound" he said. He sat down again and took a drag of his pipe made in sturdy oak. Old Toby, the best pipeweed ever!

"So, are you not leaving tomorrow?" he asked. He didn't want to stand between her and her father. He squirmed in his chair and Cree looked down in the floor again and looked embarresed. Grimm thought that he maybe shouldn't have asked that. He gasped and tried to stay awake. Cree still didn't stay anything and it became silenced in the room. Grimm sighed and took another drag. I am so worried about her. Who knows what can happen if she get hurt and don't get any help!? Grimm didn't want anything to happen to Cree. He couldn't take more death. He had seen enough of it. He awaited Cree to say anythin.

[Witch_Queen]

" I want to go, but it seems as if someone or something isn't wanting to go. I'm not sure any more of what I want to do. Even if I do find him he won't be like a father to me ever." Cree could tell easily that Grimm was trying to stay awake.

She didn't want to leave now. She had a friend here. Someone she could talk to. She stared at the floor. The wood was in good condition. She was beginning to remember her childhood and how she was pushed to the side. But everything had changed she was no longer thought of as a nuisance. She was more.

"Did your father give that to you?" She knew that she shouldn't have said it. Curiousity had began to overwelm her. She moved the chair closer to Grimm. "It is beautiful in its own way."

So much sorrow in him that I don't see how he can be so caring. I wonder so much.

[Kransha]

Toby grumbled quietly, as it seemed he’d been overlooked yet again. This was a hobbit’s inn, (even though a woman owned it) and men had no business ignoring any self-respecting gentlehobbit. Still grumbling and sniffing the air with his rodent-reminiscent nose, Tobias Hornblower trotted over to the man called Grimm, who’d just sat down and was currently smoking. The aroma of the weed, conveniently his namesake, did entice the elder Halfling, but he continued his inward belligerence. Beside him was the lady, whose name was Cree apparently. Instead of addressing the man, he spoke to the woman instead. He walked over to her briskly.

“Madam,” He said to Cree, repeating his question, “I haven’t seen you or your kin on the Green Dragon’s grounds of late. Perhaps you are new here, a wanderer or traveler? In any case, I would very much like to know your name and hopefully engage a noble lady such as yourself in civilized conversation.” Even though he knew the name, the woman didn’t know he did, “You see, it had been a long time since there was anyone sensible in this place to talk to and I have a great yearning for some friendly discourse with more friendly folk than the rough-hewn boars who often carouse here." He was, of course, making all this up as he went along. He had quite a flourish for exaggerated fiction.

There, again was the smile, dripping with false pleasantry. He spoke up so that the woman could hear him well enough, though his voice was almost drowned out by milling noises that overflowed the warm room. His thrifty face brightened in the firelight and his aged eyebrows rose, waiting for a response. The hobbit fervently hoped that folk of the south weren’t as clever as he’d heard they were, but since Eriador seemed to be brimming with them, he would have to learn sooner or later if he wanted to continue his fruitful hobby.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:18 PM February 03, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm looked down at his pendant. He smiled and said "Yes, my father gave it to me before he died. He died just a week before the Batlle of Helms Deep." Grimm drew a deep sigh and he could feel a tear falling down his cheek. So much sorrow and grieve. I don't know how to handle. Grimm sniffed and tried to pull himself together. "He then told me, that if I wore this in the battle, I would survive. The old man was right." he said and smiled to Cree. Grimm didn't where his father got it. All he knew was that it was made in pure gold. And the necklace too.

Now, after twelve years all the sorrow in him came out in tears. Cree looked like she didn't know what to do. Grimm felt terrible. He had no family or any relatives left. They had all been slain in warfare and dying of age and sickness. He stopped crying and looked up at Cree. Finally a friend that I can trust and talk with. I haven't been talking to anyone for years. He sniffed and said to Cree "I am so sorry. But I have so much sorrow in my heart, and I just had to let it out." Cree nodded as if she understood. "Now let's talk about something else." he said and tried to force himself to smile.

[Kransha]

Toby coughed loudly, not a natural cough. He wanted the attention now. He admitted to himself that he seemed very much like an arrogant attention-grabbing fool, but he had a personal maxim that stated simply, ‘Never rob someone you don’t know.’ It was an odd maxim, but he stuck to it, always getting to know his victims.

“Sir and Madam!” he said to the man called Grimm and the woman called Cree, “Perhaps you did not hear my question the first few times it was asked. I would very much like to know your names and possibly strike up a dialogue or pleasant discourse. I grow weary of oafish banter that fills this place and desire some civility. Perhaps you could be of help, if you please.” He kept the fake smile plastered on his wizened face.

He spoke up much louder, his gruff voice peeking over the din. He didn’t like being ignored, since he rarely was. People often knew him wherever he went, but not here in the Green Dragon. He had a bit of celebrity aura in Longbottom, because of his routes in the Hornblower family. The Hornblowers were, after all, the most respectable hobbit line in the Southfarthing of the Shire. Here he was just as new here as these two southern folk, but he pretended not to, and very convincingly. He waited eagerly for response from either.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:05 PM February 03, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Will Witfoot]

Fungrim woke from his reverie and turned his gaze to the largest of the nightly skys stars. Eärendil he believed it was called, and he had heard elven stories of old that claimed it to be a magnificent jewel worn on the brow of the greatest mariner the world had known, a sea-man who now sailed the skies in a silver ship that was allowed to fly by the might of the Lords of the West. Looking up at it in a quiet night near the sea, he could all too easily believe the old legend. A most magnificent sight, certainly.

He stood up and realised that he must have sat there for hours now, and decided that he had wasted quite enough time on mopping. Feeling hunger gnaw at his belly he headed for the common room, hoping to catch a late dinner and perhaps some company. He should make the most out of his stay in the more habitated parts.

He sat down to a table that was close to the cozzy fire, glad of the comforting warmth. A couple of words and coins later a hobbit lass brought over a some venisson with potatos and butter and a pint of the inns fine ale. Thanking her with a smile, Fungrim dug in with a will.

Now if only he had some company, like that lively young fellow, Hamfast. He was the only patron in the inn that he was really on speaking terms with.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal heard her name called. She was instantly afraid once more, she wasn't sure what to do.

"Who is it?" Crystal asked timidly from across the room.

Her heart pounded wildly as thoughts of being captured ran across her mind like the horses the riders rode in their quest for her and the reward upon her head.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree
Cree looked up at the sound of her name. "I'm sorry sir. I am Cree and he is my dear friend Grimm." Cree wasn't use to having people just walk up to her and start a conversation. Plus why would someone just barge into a room looking for someone to talk to? She looked at Grimm her face almost becoming sad. She liked talking to him.

"Grimm, its ok. I understand.Toby I'm sorry but we wouldn't make good company right now. Perhaps we can talk some other time. Perhaps when I am more awake."Theres more to this guy than what meets the eyes. He's hiding someting. The look on her face changed. Cree was always frightened but now it could be told. She didn't know what to think of Toby. The smile didn't seem real to her.
--------------------
Aduthondiel
"Who is it?" She heard from the other side of the door. Perhaps she had come to the right room after all.

"My name is Aduthondiel an elf from Eryn Lasgalen. I wish to speak with Crystal. I have some news she may find interesting." Aduthondiel wasn't use to having to wait for a person. But the news she heard should be told to this Crystal.

She could remember Rohan and the way it looked. Staying with Dorian and learning about his daughter wasn't as fun as it may seem. She remembered that Crystal was the daughters name.

There are so many named Crystal. But is this her?

[Fool Of A Took]

The hobbit had just walked into the room and asked if he could join them. First Grimm didn't notice the halfling at all, but the hobbit coughed as they didn't notice him. Grimm looked up from his cry and looked at the hobbit, he looked down again and tried to hide his face. He felt so embarressed by sitting and crying. I am an adult man! Why am I crying? he asked himself in his mind. He covered his face with his hands and he heard Cree talking to the hobbit.

He really cared for Cree. He didn't want her to have a wound and feel pain whitout getting any help. He sniffed and tried to dry his tears with his hand. He looked at his hand and saw the scar. He closed his eyes and remembered where he got it from. When he was defending the main gate to Helms Deep the Uruk-Hai's used crossbows to shot the men inside. An arrow hit through his left hand. He remembered the hurt. He had never felt so much pain before in his whole life.

He looked up at Cree again still talking to the hobbit. The hobbit seemed to still be annoyed, cause of Cree and him didn't notice him in the first place.

[Fool Of A Took]

Umwë
The elf entered the Inn, he wore a dark green cape with a hood in the same colour. He had blonde hair that reached down to his shoulders. His bright green eyes shined, and his tired face turned into a smiled. Still at the late hour people was awake and many faces turned to him as he entered. He sat down quickly, cause he didn't like so much attention. He was a very shy elf, and often he could look down on his feet and blush if someone said anything kind to him. He didn't know why actually, it just felt like everyone was looking at him.

It had been a long day and he was really tired by now, yet he decided to sit down for a while and have an ale. He had never been in these parts of Middle-Earth before. For the moment he was travelling around Middle-Earth to explore the lands and places he had never seen before. Maybe some day he would leave too, and travell to the West. His father and sister had already left Middle-Earth. But Umwë wanted to stay for a little while, but he had promised them to come too some day.

He looked around himself and saw that many visitors were saying good night to each other and split off to each rooms. He wished he knew someone here. He felt lonely but tried to seem so lonely. He avoided many faces that looked at him by looking down at his mug of ale. He was too shy. Why am I doing this all the time? Avoiding people. He felt silly, so he looked up and took a sip os is ale.

Maybe I should talk to someone. So I atleast maybe could make a friend, then I douln't feel so lonely.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree looked at Grimm. She still didn't know what to think of the halfling. She never was one to talk to a hobbit. She always saw them as nasty little creatures. But Frodo, Sam, Pippen, Merry, and Bilbo was the only exception she ever made.

She stood up but had to hold her side. "If you will excuse me." She walked over to Grimm and whispered to him, "Once he leaves come find me in my room and we will talk some more. I don't trust him." She nelt down beside of him before she left. "Don't leave him in your room alone. He's got a look in his eyes which spell out trouble. If your still here in 5 minutes I'll be back. Like I said, I don't like the looks of him. Bye dear."

She nodded at the hobbit and walked to the door. "Good evening Mr. Toby. I'll see you in a little bit Grimm." She turned to look at the man who barged in on their conversation. She gave him an evil look. She was use to giving it. Cree wasn't sure if the hobbit was going to jump with fright or return the look.

Cree could feel Grimm looking at her. She looked at him and smiled. She walked out the door but didn't shut it behind her. She took her hand off of her side. She was bleeding again. Quickly she turned and walked back into Grimm's room. "Grimm I may need some help after all." She showed her blood red hand to him. "My side is bleeding again."

I got angry that's what it was. I don't trust him and he won't be the first that I didn't trust. Theres many of people who can't gain my trust. This Toby is one of them. The smile on her face turned itself into a look of pain.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm rose up again and almost screamed. Not again! "Quick! You need bandage." he said. The hobbit backed away into a corner and didn't seem to care. Grimm took a piece of bandage that he had in his backpack. "Lay down on my bed. Quick!" he said with a worried tone. He put some bandage over her wound. He could see that her wound that looked like a scar, now looked more like she had got a cut by a blade. He felt dizzy, he felt that he was going to have a headache soon.

"Be still" he said and tried to calm down. He could see that her eyes was tired and filled with fear. The hobbit just watched them. "I will get you a glas of water" he said and walked swiftly out of the room for a glas. He returned, but he couldn't see the hobbit. He Cree the glass and looked around the room and tried to find the hobbit, Toby, that had been standing in the corner. He had actually nothing against hobbits, but this hobbit had just interrupted them in a rude way of just walking straight in. He could at least have knocked?

[Witch_Queen]

"The hobbit's gone. I never did like him anyways." Cree knew her words sounded harsh but she didn't like the look of the hobbit. "Grimm, may I ask you a question." Grimm nodded and Cree could see that he was worried about her. "Why do you care so much about me? No one ever has until now. Why?" She knew she was asking a question that would take some thought.

Cree wasn't sure on how her would answer her. "You can tell me anything Grimm. You should know that by now." She could tell it would take some time before her side would fully heal. She noticed a scar on Grimm's hand. She picked up her hand and placed it on his scar.

"You know pain. More pain than I could ever feel. Yet after all the sorrow in your life you can find time to take care of a cursed elf."

[Fool Of A Took]

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

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff and Postmaster; his pony’s name is Dumpling.
_____________________________________________
Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn.

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.

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

IT IS NOW AFTER SUPPER TIME AND NIGHT HAS COME TO THE SHIRE.

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

FOOL OF A TOOK'S POST

Umwë

Umwë's sharp elven ears heard a scared cry upstairs. He rose up and left the Common Room. He went upstairs and ran to the room he had heard the cry from. A man, probably from Rohan as he bore the crest of Rohan, and an elf, that was lying on a bed. She seemed to be hurt. "Is something wrong?" he asked. The man looked up and seemed tired and worried. The woman didn't say anything.She is from Eryn Lasgalen, her eyes tells me...

"She is hurt, she haven't told me whats wrong?! It must be some sort of a spell" the man said with fear in his tone. Umwë's voice calmed him down as he said "Dont worry, let me see that wound, I might can do something to help. By the way, I am Umwë, from former Lothlorien. His eyes turned to the elfwoman. The man bowed and said "I am Grimm of Rohan, and this is Cree, from Eryn Lasgalen."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:35 PM February 07, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm felt like he wanted to answer Cree's question right away, so he said to Umwë "Please, could you wait outside, and try not to hear what we say" The last part he said with a smile. Umwë nodded and smiled "Of course." Umwë went out of the room and Grimm turned to Cree. "Why I care so much about you?" he said and smiled. "Well, actually it is beacuse of all the sorrow I have felt in my entire life. All my close friends and family have died for some reason. And I can't take more sorrow. I don't want to lose you too" he said and felt his tears coming back. Don't die! Please!

He sat down on a chair next to the bed. He looked at her, and her face seemed weak and tired. He tried to focus and don't lose himself and start cry again. Sometimes it gelt like he wanted to die. And not feel anything, no death, no pain. Just eternal living in peace. He drew a deep sigh.

She mustn't die!

[Witch_Queen]

Cree looke at the elf as he left the room. "Do not worry, I am far to young to die right now. Maybe in a few hundred years or more." She tried to shed some light on the situation. "It won't be there for eternity. It happened during one of my episodes. I don't know why." Cree seemed shocked when she realized what the place ment.

"It was where my father was stabbed. Thats what caused him to die. I was in his place. I knew the pain he felt and I still know the pain." Cree was begining to understand Grimm a little more. The look in his eyes told his life story.

"I will not die on you Grimm. I won't let you feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your life either." Should could hear the seriousness in her voice. This time she didn't want to die. I wanted to die so long ago. Now I don't. How can one person change everything.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm smiled when she said she wasn't going to die for a few hundred years or more. Though he wasn't going to live then he was happy about it. "So, should I call Umwë back in? I believe he might can help you to get rid of the curse." Now he had the worried look again, and he started to take away the bandage to see if the bleeding had stopped. Umwë... I have heard the name before... But I can't remember that I've seen him before...

The wound had stopped bleed, yet it looked horrible. Grimm slowly shook his head. Poor woman... Grimm could see in her eyes that she still felt pain. Her face looked sad, and especially her eyes. Then he took her hand and placed it in his. "I will always be there, when you need me or not." he said with a smile. Cree smiled too and took a sip of the glas of water. Grimm could see she was exhausted.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:13 AM February 05, 2004: Message edited by: Fool Of A Took ]

[piosenniel]

Point of Information

The Shire would like to encourage writers to take more time doing more thoughtful and descriptive posts.

Serial posting between writers is discouraged, especially since it tends to become more dialog oriented than descriptive.

Two and a maximum of three well done posts is enough for one day for a writer to a game.

Please try to keep to this request.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:21 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Fool of a Took and Witch Queen

Please check your PM's before you post again.

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"So how are things on the Plantation, Halfred," asked Sigismond cheerfully, as a Buttercup Brownlock brought him huge mug of ale, obviously compensating for his large hands and frame.

"Oh, they go on as always," said Halfred. "It's definitely been a good season."

"There's a rumor, though, Halfred," said Sigismond, moving closer and speaking in a lower voice, as though this was a secret, "that you are planning on expanding your business."

Halfred sucked at his pipe, removed it from his mouth, and blew a somewhat disfigured, though what definitely looked like a white smoke ring. "Bah," said Halfred, "I was much better at this sort of thing when I was in by tweens."

Asphodel, who had turned her head for a moment, observing people coming in and out of the wooden Inn door, twisted back around just in time to get a face full of smoke. She felt as though she had just swallowed ash, and began coughing vigorously.

"Oh, I'm very sorry, my dear," said Halfred, as he used is hand to clear the rest of the smoke away. Tolman laughed.

"Good shot, uncle," he said to Halfred. "I could not have done it better myself."

Asphodel, who had momentarily gotten better, made a sour face at her cousin. "Such a gentleman, he is," she thought. So he had been called by many of the Shire Hobbits. So he was, at least to the adults and to small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls. But to those his own age, especially his own kin, he was a very rascal. A master of pranksters, whenever he could manage it. He was never mean, but he was not one to be reckoned with. That was not the worst part, however; the worst part was that no one, especially the elders, believed you when you said he did those things.

Asphodel didn't hold it against him. Not much, anyway. He was not putting on airs; he really did respect adults and small children, but he knew who he could have fun with. And he was fun indeed. When he and Asphodel were small, he had been the leader of the pack. He always had come up with the best ideas and adventures to have. He certainly had a streak in him, did the gentlemanly Tolman.

"Come, Tom," was all his uncle said to him. "Have pity on your cousin."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:22 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal walked over to the door and opened it slowly.

"What is it that you must tell me?" Crystal asked cautiously. She wasn't sure if she could trust this person. She couldn't even see their face.

Her heart didn't stop racing as she continued to hold Angry's hand. She just couldn't bear the thought of being taken away from him. She just didn't want to have to deal with never seeing him again. She had already gone through that pain, that torture once before. Now would not be the time of saying goodbye.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:20 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: Crystal Heart ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman, wiping the bar absent-mindedly as she looked out of the window, was drawn back into the Inn momentarily by the sound of dry coughing, followed by a deep throated, "Oh, I'm very sorry my dear!", the cheeky, "Good shot uncle, I couldn't have done it better myself!", and finally the sardonic, female voice saying, "Such a gentleman he is." She smiled at the trio of hobbits sitting together, two of them endeavouring to blow smoke rings apparently to the bemusement of the third, younger hobbit. Catching the hobbit lass's eye, Aman grinned and raised her eyebrows and was greeted with a return grin and a roll of the hobbit's bright eyes.

The light was fading outside the Inn, although the merriment went on inside the bustling Common Room, and Aman noticed a silhouette against the window, a shy, intimidated looking elf man, his blonde hair caught by the dying rays of sunlight over the hills in the far distance. But, even as Aman was starting out of the bar towards him, the elf looked up sharply and left the bar.

Unperturbed, the Innkeeper shrugged to herself and continued absent-mindedly wiping at mysterious, but nonetheless ancient and well-established stains on the bartop. The Rohirrim woman was content with looking around at the Inn for the moment - it's patrons were many and varied tonight. Brushing a wisp of silky brown hair back behind her ear, she rubbed a hand across her weary green eyes and let them settle on the hobbit trio, although she did not, of course, make it too obvious.

At the fireside, the stories went on, the crowd waxing and waning; as much as they are thirsty for tales, they are probably thirsty also for more drinks, Aman thought to herself and, tucking the cloth behind the bar, she started over to the fireside to offer around refreshments.

[Kransha]

Toby smiled cunningly and tossed his newfound wealth up in the air, catching it nimbly a moment later. The man was too busy tending to the woman to notice the loss he’d sustained. Tobias had scurried out, as thriftily as ever, as soon as the two began their conversation anew. They hadn’t bothered to follow, and he hadn’t expected that they would. He knew it was rude, especially in a private area, to barge in unannounced on people, but he didn’t give his respect to foreigners, and that justified fifty percent of his actions. He couldn’t justify the stealing, but it was a too addictive habit to give up, and he profited by it greatly whenever he was succesful in it.

He ambled, feigning weariness, back to the common room and found himself a chair by the fire to sit in, tucking his findings neatly into one of his many coat pockets. He leaned back again, sighing melodramatically, and whipped out his pipe. He looked around the dim room again, seeing some familiar and new faces. The sight that caught his eye was the large table manned by that stern gentlehobbit Halfred, and the lass called Asphodel. He remembered the food he’d gotten out of that encounter, but decided not to try again, since it was obvious that those hobbits didn’t think to highly of him. He resigned himself to eavesdropping on their conversation, which was no crime in a public inn. He swiveled his chair over and reclined further, his ears twitching strangely as he acoustically adjusted to listen in on their discourse. He began to pick up snippets of the dialogue between them.

He overheard little at first, but slowly edged his chair closer, swiping a rusty tin mug filled with frothing ale from a nearby table, as of yet uninhabited. He took a great swig and lowered the mug onto his knee as his ears began to twitch more. The ear movement was just another one of his quirks, though many other citizens of Longbottom and the Hornblower family shared this idiosyncrasy, along with many other hobbits in the Southfarthing.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:13 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Fool Of A Took]

Umwë
Umwë stood against the wall outside Grimm's room. He closed his eyes and pictures came back from Lothlorien. It was all gone, it was now abandoned. He drew a deep sigh. As he waited he got bored and thought of go down stairs again. After a while and still nothing happened Umwë went down again. He walked over to the bar and sat down on a stool. He pulled up his hood again and tried to hide his face. Do people here know me? So many faces looked at him as they knew him, yet never seen him before. He closed his eyes and avoided their looks. He ordered an ale and looked around himself. No one looked at him anymore, a few dwarves were still mumbeling in a corner and their faces turned to Umwë a few times but nothing more. He didn't enjoy dwarves that much, they were so greedy. When he got his ale he took a sip of it. It was cool and tasty. He swallowed the ale slowly. The ale was really good in these parts of Middle-Earth. He had just tasted ale a few times before. In Rohan and Gondor he had drinked ale before. The men there couldn't believe he had never tasted it before, so they wanted him to try it.

Umwë finished his ale and rose from the barstool. He thought that he might could talk to someone in the Common Room. He walked to the Common Room and sat down in a chair near the fireplace. As he sat there and stared into the fire he almost fell into slumber. He was walking on green fields with joy in his heart, no pain nor death. Clouds suddenly covered the sun as he was walking. He walked faster, but the darkness caught up to him. Then he fell. He woke up and sat straight up in the chair. He leaned back again and sighed. It was just a dream. The shadows are gone now. He pulled his hood tighter around his head and leaned back again. He shouldn't worry anymore about shadow and evilness. It is gone now, he thought and closed his eyes again.

Now he thought that he should go to the Grey Havens after all. He had no one left to trust here. No friends or family. No, my hope shall not fade yet. I might find someone here that I can trust.

[SonOfBombadil]

Lewis watched as the innkeeper apparently didn't hear Ravon. It wasn't a shock though, the poor woman had been working hard all day and was probably tired too. He reiterated the request, "Excuse me, Miss Aman, my friend and I would like to know if you had a couple of rooms still available?"

Lewis hoped that there was a couple of rooms, for he was tired and longed for the comfort of a bed. The long cold nights sleeping on the ground of Middle Earth had been getting quite uncomfortable of late. But he began to have doubts, why oh why didn't I ask for a room earlier.

[Kransha]

Toby was reading wearily, his half-closed eyes focused on the torn page of a small, leather bound booklet. Of course, the book wasn’t his. It was small enough to be whisked neatly from the satchel hanging at a young hobbit’s hip. He flipped through pages of the neglected packet and brushed gathering dust from ancient parchment. The book had obviously been passed down as an heirloom, perhaps worth something more than just good reading. If he could not find a fitting cost, he could give it to his niece, Tanta, who particularly enjoyed her newfound ability to read and comprehend most forms of writing to some extent. Tobias smiled dimly as he thought of Longbottom again, but the warm look faded as he began to skim over the editon critically.

On the first page was the title, inscribed in flowing cursive. It said ‘Tales of Wonder,” with no author or publisher beneath. Tobias assumed it was a collection of some kind and peeled aside the next page with his skinny fingers. It bore picturesque scene filled with painting intricacy, though the ebullient color of the work had faded after many years of having voracious children gawk at them. The picture was reminiscent of a tapestry, bearing several different images spliced together with curling designs separating each one. There were no words anywhere on the page, and Toby scoffed under his breath, eyeing the pictures. He turned the page.

“Oliphaunts,” he read aloud to himself, “are great and beautiful beasts that bear great tusks to smite their foes. It is said that they live in the far south with their masters, ferocious southern warriors.”
He looked at the picture skeptically, frowning at the elephantine figure painted marvelously on the page. It seemed to be braying like a horse with its nasal appendage flailing like a whip. Toby’s right eyebrow rose even more skeptically than before and his left eye widened slightly as he examined.

“Oliphaunts, what nonsense. What hobbit has ever seen one to know what such a beast might look like? If any man or beast got close enough to draw such a picture, they would be long dead.” He snorted indignantly and turned the page, his nose and face wrinkling angrily as he looked at these other pictures, more delicate than the last. Here were great green beasts, which sprouted wings and horns and all manner of great limbs. From one such beast’s mouth, fire was pouring like water and aimed towards something not on the parchment.

“More nonsense. Fairy-talls and children’s dreams. Has the world lost all perception of reality?” He asked no one in particular as he spoke, snorting again and wrinkling his nostrils in disgust.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:19 PM February 05, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[piosenniel]

Buttercup

Begging your pardon, Master Lewis,’ came the friendly voice from behind him. Lewis turned to see one of the serving girls looking at him. ‘Miz Aman, I believe, didn’t hear your request. But I can show you to a room.’ She pointed out the great ledger at the end of counter which he would need to sign, then took the necessary coins from him.

‘Now your payment comes with a breakfast tomorrow,’ she said motioning him and Ravon to follow her up the stairs. ‘There are towels, soap, and a basin in your room on the night stand. A pitcher, too. But you must bring it down to the kitchen for hot water if you wish to wash up. No baths tonight – it’s far too late. You can get one tomorrow – the room for that is at the end of the hall. And the privy for guests is just down that back stairway by the bath’s room and out the door, then to the east of the stable. You’ve a lamp in your room, and a lantern you can carry to the privy to light your way.’

She handed him the key, and saying good-night, went back down to the kitchen to finish up her duties.

[LuthienNenharma]

Luthien looked around the bar and drank slowly from her goblet of wine. her grey-blue eyes glimmered beneath her hood and her dark hair fell out onto the forest green tunic.

Her hawk Estel screeched from her shoulder and fluttered it's wings. She stroked it softly and fed it meat from the small plate in front of her. She did not eat, but continued to drink her wine.

She lowered her hood and revealed her long dark brown, almost black hair. She wore a silver head dress that looked to be woven of glimmering thread.

The golden trands in the middle fell down in between her eyes, and around her neck was a necklace and on the end was a silver circle with an emerald in the center.

A long wooden bow was behind her chair and into it was carved elvish runes. She also bore on her back a long quiver of black arrows with green feathers on the end.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Aldwine looked around. He had been quiet for the last hour, debating whether to leave now and go to the Tooks' Great Smials, or stay, and listen to tales of others. Surely, he would learn more of the hobbits in the great libraries of Master Paladdin, but they will be there to stay. Meanwhile, the stories that will be told here might not be told again - or at least not within his hearing.

Having decided to stay, he requested for a drink. The flavoured tea Hawthorne had given him was quite good, so he had another large mug of it. He had heard one hobbit talk of oliphaunts as though they don't exist - of course, they do, and Aldwine has a few tales to prove it.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree
"Bring the elf back in? Sure why not. I haven't talked to an elf in a long time. Well actually since I believe this morning." Cree desired to be back amongst her kind. Though Grimm made her feel as if this was her home. "No one could get rid of my curse." Her words were empty.

"Not even the best medicine doctor in all of Middle-Earth." The sound of her voice was meaningless. She felt as if nothing could cure her troubles but death.

Am I going to always be like this. Always afraid of some disease or curse that I can't leave. It is like my shadow always there and never leaving. Even in the darkness I know it is always there. Cree had so many thoughts going through her head. She didn't know how she could tell Grimm the story her father had told her.

I will always be running from my curse. Even after death. Life can't fight my battles for me. So there is no way to win an on going war that is inside me.
--------------------
Aduthondiel
The door began to open. Aduthondiel looked up with amazement. This can't be his daughter. "So you are his daughter? Hardly something he would be proud about." Her words were harsh. "I believe you would like to know that your father's men were killed in the woods beyond the Shire. Evidently it was something important that they were caring since the beast attacked them and not me."

Aduthondiel pulled the hood of her cloak down. Her black hair fell down to cover her the cut on her cheek. Aduthondiel went on explaining how she was sent there to see if Crystal was hiding anywheres. She told her how she spent the months with her father before leaving to find his daughter. She noticed Hama in the back of the room.

"So he did find you after all. Hama I need something to send back to tell her father that she's dead. He should believe that right?" It appears that she is too happy to leave. Why would she want to stay with a hobbit. Such foul creatures.

Aduthondiel never had a love for hobbits. She couldn't see why a woman of Crystals degree would stay with a hobbit. "So what will it be? Crystal your father will be told that you died because of a beast. Just like all the others did."

Even if she loves this hobbit at least she won't have to suffer the fate her father has for her. At least she has found love.

&lt;font size=1 color=339966&gt;[ 3:35 PM February 06, 2004: Message edited by: Witch_Queen ]&lt;/font&gt;

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:36 PM February 06, 2004: Message edited by: Witch_Queen ]

[Fool Of A Took]

Umwë
Umwë still sat in the Common Room and was totally quiet. He had some daydreaming about Lothlorien. He missed the former elven kingdom alot. Now when he thought about it, he began to understand that the kingdom was abandoned forever by elves that lived there. Yet there was now Eryn Lasgalen. Umwë had been there a few times and been staying there for a week or two. But he had never really like it. It had never felt like a home to him. While he thought about this he constantly stared into the sparkling fire. He didn't move a finger, he sat like a statue in the chair and with his face cloaked. Lady Galadriel... So fair, he thought. It was hard to leave Lothlorien, he never thought he would have the strength to do it. Now, when he had seen so many places, and had so many memories from the rest of the world, the memories of Lothlorien began to fade. All the memories got blurred. But he would never forget the trees. He sighed and came back to reality from his thougts. He realised that it was quiet late now, and many people were going to get a room for the night. I will do that too soon...

He pulled back his hood and rose up. He decided to have another ale by the bar and maybe talk to someone and after that find a room for the night. The Common Room was quiet when he left, just a little mumbeling from a few dwarves and a hobbit. I wasn't interested in dwarves, neither hobbits. He just passed them by and walked to the bar. He ordered an ale and sat down on a stool. The bar was almost empty now. But a few people still sat there. He took a sip of his ale that he just got and then he looked at the others who sat by the counter. When they looked up at him he blushed and looked down at his feets. Why must this be so embarrising. I should start talk to someone instead of blushing all the time. He cleared his throat and looked up again. I hope anyone of these people like elves, he thought.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 11:25 AM February 06, 2004: Message edited by: Fool Of A Took ]

[Angel_Queen]

One room? Ravon wasn't about to share a room with a man. She felt it was not right. But she had gotten to know Lewis a little better. "I take it that elves aren't like as much as men." She had a smirk in her voice. "Shall we?"

It had been so long since Ravon had gotten a chance to sleep on a soft bed. The ground was always hard as a rock. Then she would wake up and notice that she was laying on a rock.

I could never get use to sleeping on rocks. Even if I spent my entire life doing it. Can you imagine the pain.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal looked at her in surprise. This was her chance to make her father think that she was dead. That he had no chance of ever finding her ever again. This was the one thing that she had wished for.

She unclasped the now bloody necklace from around her neck. It bore her blood and her father knew that Arty had given it to her before his death. He would believe without a shadow of a doubt that she had been killed if he saw the necklace and the dried blood. It was all she needed.

"Take this back to my father. He will believe my death."

Crystal smiled brightly as she looked back at Angry. She would be able to live in the Shire safely. There would be no threat on the Shire or the life of her new found love.

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I shall not forget you and what you have done for me."

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"That bar maid is a nice lady," thought Asphodel to herself, "even though she is one of the big folk." She turned her eyes upon her father, who seemed not to have noticed that she had exchanged glances with the Big Folk barkeeper.

The lady barkeeper was the only woman, not of Hobbit decent, that Halfred did not object to being in the Shire, though his ill oppinion of the Big Folks was as staunch as ever. He was at first very sceptical. As he had once said to Pinto Goldburrow, "First a dwarf, and now a Big Folk lady at the Dragon! How is she even to fit behind the bar? No good will come of this, Pinto, mark my words." He had been correct in his assumption - to an extent. After the bar maid took over the Dragon, more and more Big Folk had come more often, occasionally disturbing the peace of the quiet Shire Folk. But no great evil was to be had from this, at least in Asphodel's eyes. Halfred had learned to put up with it, though Asphodel imagined that it was, perhaps, a greater evil to her father than it was to her.

Sigismond Proudfoot, who had stepped away momentarily to order some more ales, came back, to Asphodel's surprise, with three of them. She wondered if the third one was for her cousin.

"What's this, Sigismond?" asked Halfred, removing the pipe from his mouth. "Why, you have bought one too many ales."

"I haven't," said Sigismond. "I've got two for me." He patted his large belly. "I'm a big man, as Hobbits go, and I need twice as much as normal."

All Halfred said to this was, "As you please, Sigismond," though she could tell that he was not pleased. Not because Sigismond drank too much - no Hobbit would ever say that of anyone - but rather Halfred was a frugal Hobbit, and did not often waste money on more than he could consume.

Everyone was about to settle back down to their normal occupations: Tolman observing the different people in the Dragon, Asphodel sitting and staring at nothing, and Halfred going into the particulars of the weed plantation, when Sigismond let out a great laugh."

"Can't you good folks take a bit of jesting?" He asked. When no one said anything, as they were obviously confused, he laughed again. "I may be a big Hobbit, but I'm not greedy. Here," he slid one of his ale mugs across the table, slopping a bit of the dark brown liquid on the table, "the third ale's for young Tom. He's thirty-three now. About time he started acting like it."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:59 PM February 06, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]

[Witch_Queen]

Aduthondiel looked at Crystal. She thought she saw a smile but wasn't sure. "Child there is no reason to thank me. I was sent her to get you if Hama failed. If you didn't want to go back I was going to have to kill you." The words flew out of her mouth.

"No reason to thank me." She placed the hood back on her head.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal's eyes widened as she turned back.

"You were suppose to kill me? But why didn't you?" Crystal asked.

She was confused. She hadn't thought that she was so liked before. She had no idea that anyone would think highly of her. There had been Arty and the King of Gondor, but she really hadn't thought that anyone else would.

She just couldn't imagine that so many people were on her side and yet at the same time so many people on her father's side that were trying to collect the randsom that had been placed on her head. It was a large sum and she was surprised that anyone at all would go for it.

[Feared Half-Elf]

Elkamia stretched, almost ready for her bed. There had been some interesting stories tonight, she had been tempted to add some of her own. Her sharp eyes suddenly saw the lone elf by the bar. She had seen him enter, vanish up towards the rooms and return, and now he seemed to be blushing a lot.

'Perhaps he's shy' she thought, and went up to him, sliding onto the seat next to him. "Care for some company?" She asked.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:34 PM February 07, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[SonOfBombadil]

One room... allright then. Lewis thought it was a bit odd to share a room with an elf that he had just met this day, but if this was the only room left, it would have to suffice. "I do not think it would be proper if we both slept in the bed," Lewis began, "you can sleep in it, and I will sleep on the chair or the floor. It's bound to be more comfortable than the ground outside, and warmer."

Lewis smiled at Ravon, and then he went over to a drawer and pulled out a blanket, and lay it on the chair. He also took one of the pillows from the bed. He took off his sword belt, and also his boots and cloak. He sat down in the chair, and it was a lot better than the ground outside. And he also didn't have to worry about being attacked in his sleep by wild animals. "Have a good, restful sleep Ravon." he said with a smile.

[Kransha]

Toby yawned loudly and snorted again, sniffing indignantly at nothing as he slammed the dusty pages of the book shut, sending a fine-grained spray into his face. Irritated, he wiped the soot off with his cloth sleeve and let the book drop onto the table he was sitting at. He slid it to the other end of the table and swung his chair around nimbly, yawning again and stretching his arms out ceremoniously.

Without a second thought, he let his weary head fall limp on the table with his arm beneath it as a pillow. He couldn’t stay in a room, since he had no money, but he could still sleep. He whipped his other arm around and slid it under his head; he scratched his nose for a moment with his stubbly finger and sighed deeply. His frowning lips curled into a slumbering smile as his breathing slowed and his well fed stomach began to heave up and down rhythmically. He pulled up his large feet beneath him and his head lolled to one side as a gruff guttural noise began to well up in his throat, coming out moments later as a gurgling groan of comfort, rather unsettling to hear.

Soon his eyes drifted closed and an obnoxious noise resembling a snore began to come from him at varying intervals. He was near enough the crackling fire to absorb the rays of its gentle warmth as he slept, slowly descending into a muddled dream of veiled pleasantry and happiness.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:36 PM February 07, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[piosenniel]

ALL POSTERS PLEASE NOTE

Tomorrow, Sunday, very late at night I am moving the time in the Shire ahead to early morning.

Please finish up all your necessary "night time in the Shire" posts by Tomorrow evening.

Thanks!

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel watched in amusment, as Tolman sipped tentatively at his large ale. Her cousin Tom didn't strike her as the kind of Hobbit who would spend his nights drinking ale. A clock somewhere in the other room, probably on the huge mantle piece over the story room fire , struck eleven o-clock, its silvery notes mingling with the noises and voices of the Dragon. Asphodel turned to her father, who was still in deep conversation with Sigismond Proudfoot about his plans for his future leaf plantation.

"It is getting quite late, father," said Asphodel. Halfred ceased his plans and figures momentarily, and looked up at his daughter.

"I'm sorry to bother you, father," said Asphodel, "but it is going to be quite a long walk back to the plantation. Mother is probably starting to be worried about us."

"Oh, but Miss Hamfast," said Sigismond, "I've only just arrived. I've only just got into particulars with your father. Don't be going yet. I'll buy you a little something to keep you awake, miss, if you'd like."

"No thank you, Mr. Proudfoot," said Asphodel. "I am quite alright. But I think that in a minute, I'm going to suggest to my aunt, that she walk my younger sister home."

"Quite right you are, my dear," said Halfred. "Hanna ought to be taken home, soon. But you may stay here, if you'd like."

"Perhaps I'll consider it," said Asphodel.

[Feared Half-Elf]

"I'm ready for my bed I think, good night to you, sir!" Elkamia stretched and said goodbye to the elf, who she had just had a pleasant conversation with. She had been right, though, he had been shy.

She smiled in his direction, and headed towards the rooms. It had been a long day's travelling, and there was another to come in the morning. covering another yawn, the elf vanished into the room she had booked earlier, closing the door against the night.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Galadel

It was late night in the Shire when a soft singing was heard echoing through the village. All who heard it was moved, and stood still till it had passed by their house. The sound was gentle, and to the tune of a lullaby, yet in a language that the hobbits could not understand. It filled their minds with thoughts of distant woods and adventures, and left them breathless with wonder.

On through the village the singing travelled, until it stopped as the figure that it was coming from reached the Green Dragon Inn. The person stood staring up at the sign over the door and smiled. Opening the door she stepped into the Common Room, and flung back her hood revealing a fair face with crystal blue eyes that were shining at the moment.

Quietly the female elf crossed the almost empty room to the bar. A familiar-looking elf sat there all alone, yet she was not worried about him for the moment; she needed a room to sleep in for the night. Smiling at the innkeeper, Galadel, the Keeper of the Woods of Lothlorien, asked in her quiet, but firm voice, "Might you have a room available, mam?"

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama looked daggers at the woman, before looking down to Crystal and trying to force a smile. She just looked painedly up at him as if she was afraid of him. Hama shook his head and looekd down at the floor.

"Yes, Crystal, I was sent by your father to kill you. He dispatched riders everywhere, to everywhere of note in Middle Earth. I can not kill you now, I have not the heart to, and I have sworn to protect you."

He sighed deeply as he looked at her. He could never harm a woman, that much he knew... "Give the woman the bracelet, then get yourself some sleep." He slumped back into the chair, and very soon was wheezing in sleep...

[Kransha]

Toby’s eyes shot open suddenly and he popped up, his chair’s legs screeching loudly as the seat slid back along the wooden floor boards. His head and arms slid off the table, he slumped awkwardly out of his chair, and hit the floor in the common room with a painful thud. He cursed silently and kicked the obstructing chair away, getting up. With a disgusted and irritated look on his face, he brushed the soot off his sleeves, shook off his clothes ceremoniously, and sat down again, grumbling under his breath.

He could not recall if he’d been dreaming or not, but he was definitely annoyed at being awoken. He didn’t know what had disturbed him and he didn’t care. He wasn’t sure if he could get back to sleep again. He got up from the chair after less than a minute and looked around with tired, red-rimmed eyes. The common room was nearly empty, save only for two or three figures in the darker corners. Outside, the sky was pitch-black with some pale yellowish moonlight seeping through thick clouds. Inside, the fire was dying down; its former soothing crackle reduced to a soft and subdued tapping noise. The dim but warm light had become a colder and darker projection of bright colors, dancing in shadow on the wall and playing out colorful stories that no one could read.

He walked over to a stool near the bar and sat down, yawning and sighing all at once. He turned his head slightly to see someone asking the innkeeper a question. He was taken aback by her fair face and gleaming blue orbs that he guessed were eyes. She was a dazzling individual, not like many hobbit lasses Toby Hornblower had ever seen. He couldn’t help but stare rudely at the woman with his mouth slowly opening. She was assuredly the nicest looking thing he’d ever seen, except perhaps a very large supply of Longbottom Leaf.

She had pointed ears, the second thing Tobias noticed. ‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘she’s an elf. That explains the face.’ He hadn’t seen many elves around, even though there were presently several in the inn, very near him as a matter of fact. He propped his gawking lower jaw back into place and assessed the female, one eyebrow raised.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:28 PM February 08, 2004: Message edited by: Kransha ]

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel got up slowly from her chair and stretched her legs. Then, after informing her father that she would be not long absent, she boldly made her way through the hoards of Hobbits, Dwarves, Men, and occasionally Elves (though they were so tall, she took them for wooden posts). She tried hard not to concentrate on any one person or thing, lest by her small height she should be overwhelmed by everyone else. Instead, she kept her gaze stright forward and focused only on weaving through the maze of wooden chairs and tables, and kept a keen eye out for the Hobbit maids balancing trays above the crowd.

Finally, Asphodel broke out of the throng and found herself at the door of the Story Room. The Story Room - she wasn't sure that this was the correct name for the comfortable Inn parlour with a huge fire place and cheerfully roaring fire, but that was what Hanna and Marigold had first called it, so she had gotten into the habit of speaking of it by that name.

Listening closely, Asphodel could hear someone speaking softly from the front of the fire place, no doubt whispering some fantastic tale to the hobbit-boys and girls as they gathered all around. The grown Hobbits sat farther back, so try as she would, even balancing on her toes, Asphodel could not see the person who was telling the story.

Taking a deep breath, for she hated to interupt such a cheerful party, she plunged into the herd of adults, in search of her aunt.

Belladonna was among those grown Hobbits that were forward most towards the storyteller. After a few minutes, Asphodel found her and, sitting down next to her on a dark wooden chair with a snow-white pillow upon it, was about to say something, when her aunt spoke first.

"I saved this chair for you," she whispered, "for I thought you might like to hear some stories after you grew weary of your male company."

"I have not come to hear stories, nor because I am tired of Tolman and father," said Asphodel, speaking quietly so as not to disturb the story telling. "It is after eleven-o-clock, and I think Hanna should be taken home."

"After this last tale," said Belladonna. Asphodel was about to protest, but her aunt motioned for her to be quiet. Asphodel had no choice but to listen to the rest of the tale.

[Everdawn]

Sírabel had finished her chat with the mysterious Eradan, who had asked to get some sleep, or at least that was what Sírabel had thought he had said, she was laready caught up in her day(or night rather) dreaming of what his stories might look like in colour. She was brought back by the chiming of a rather old clock nearby on the wall, so old that it was minus of many numbers.

"How am I supposed to tell time if there is no time to tell? I am terribly vexed." she frowned and sat with her arms crossed staring at the clock for many minutes, silent at that apart form the occasional mumble, "...so terribly vexed." Though she would not be alone for long.

Lanus had spent all day and all of the night delivering messages, like he usually did, apart form the day off (or several) which he had had when he met Sírabel. Lanus was tired and sore and in a very bad mood that night. "Miss Delone." he said shortly form behing her chair.

"What!" she exclaimed in an angered tone, as she tipped her head over the back of the chair to look at Lanus upside-down. "Look what youve done!" she replied next seeing that the clock began to chime again. "It's half past the hour!"

"Whats that got to do with anything?" stated Lanus taking a seat. "Besides, i have news"

"Well, have i ever cared for news my dear friend?" snapped Sírabel in a childish tine. "I have some for you, and here it is; you smell like your horse."

"Im flattered Sí, i really am, but look here. I managed to find somewhere just outside of the shire who is looking for an artist to paint a picture of their farm house." Lanus looked pleased wiht himself.

"Fantastic." she muttered dryly.

"Are you not happy?" he asked

"I piant real things, not farm houses. Oh look, dont be like that! I give you thumbs up for spirit."

"Spirit or no, im going to get a room and sleep for the night, i encourage you to do the same, you must be tired with all your clock watching." and he stromed off angrily to the innkeeper and then up the stairs.

"Well" said Sírabel quietly. "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

[Arry]

Alwin smoked his last pipeful as he sat near the banked fire in the Inn. Many of the guests had gone up to bed already, and he was looking forward to sinking under the quilts of his own bed in due time. Buttercup had come round with the broom, saying nothing to him as he sat, chair tipped back a bit and his feet on the raised hearth. But the determined sweeping of the young hobbit made comments of its own as the strokes came nearer and nearer his chair.

‘All right, my dear,’ he chuckled as the swish of the broom against the wooden planks of the common room grew louder and closer. ‘I’m surrendering this most comfortable seat to your able housekeeping and going off to bed.’ Buttercup smiled widely at him, mouthing a thank-you at the elderly gentleman.

‘Just one thing,’ he said, ‘drawing near and whispering to her. ‘Do you think I might get a small basket of food and a flask of hot tea with honey?’ Buttercup’s eyes went wide, wondering where the old fellow was going to put away a basket of food. ‘None of your business, Buttercup,’ she said to herself, as she went to fetch him the small repast.

Once delivered, he thanked her, then watched as she walked back to the kitchen to finish up in there. Alwin slipped out the front door of the Inn and hurried toward the oak tree. He rapped lightly on the trunk of the old tree and spoke softly into the dark, thick canopy of leaves above. ‘Something to hold off the cold of the night, my friend,’ he said, sitting the basket securely between two roots at the base of the tree.

Not waiting for an answer, he turned back toward the Inn, thoughts of a warm, soft bed drawing him on.

[piosenniel]

PLEASE NOTE:

Time in the Inn is now moving forward.

It is very early in the morning, breakfast is not yet served.

And most of the Inn is still in bed.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne Brandybuck:

A star or two still twinkled in the skies when Hawthorne Brandybuck slipped out of bed and put on her clothing. The corridors of the Dragon lay dark and silent. As the hobbit padded down the hallway towards the Common Room and the kitchens, she took a quick look at the small chambers where Ruby and Buttercup slept. Their doors were still drawn tight; no sounds came from within.

Hawthorne smiled in delight. She had managed to get up before the other girls and would be free to do whatever she wanted in the kitchens. How pleased they would be when they later arose and discovered that breakfast was already being served! Hawthorne was hoping to offer a meal of hot eggs and biscuits served up with a rasher of bacon. It was true that she had never cooked any of those foods before, but how hard could it possibly be? Back home in Buckland, the Harfoot servant girls whisked out the breakfast after bustling around in the kitchen for only a moment or two. If they could do it so efficiently, certainly a smart Fallohide girl such as herself should have absolutely no trouble.

She tiptoed across the Common Room. There were already a few folk sitting at tables waiting for the food to be cooked and served. One of the hobbits had her head bent low on the tablecloth and was making snoring noises. Several other Men and an Elf had satchels sitting near their chairs, apparently expecting to take off on the road as soon as they had finished their early morning meal. Someone had unlocked the front and back doors of the Inn and, every so often, a tradesman came in to drop off their wares for the day.

Hawthorne went straight to the kitchen and began taking out the foods from the pantry and larder that she would need to make her meal. There were fresh eggs, sweet butter, a good haunch of bacon, a slab of rendered fat, a large burlap sack with flour and a bottle of thick cream all waiting for her on the counter; these had been delivered earlier by one of the farm lads.

Within only a moment, she had set out her frying pans, bowls and spoons beside the stove and tied on an apron. Thankfully, one of the house lads had already started the fire on top of the stove so she did not have to worry about that. Someone had forgotten to drop off the peat so the oven was not yet lit. She decided to make a pan of fried biscuits rather than waiting for the peat to be delivered. She could always use baked biscuits for her second batch. In any case, she had a personal hankering for fried biscuits so that seemed like a good idea on several grounds.

Cracking the eggs into a bowl, the hobbit carefully mixed them with the cream and beat the mixture until it was frothy and smooth, dumping the whole thing into a fying pan. She set the bacon in another pan on the side burner and quickly made up a batch of biscuits following a recipe that her servant had kindly written down for her from the night before. It took her only a few moments to prepare the biscuit dough.

At this point Hawthorne was feeling very pleased with herself. She knew that fried biscuits needed to be cooked in the fat so she filled the third frying pan almost to the top with oil. The bacon was sizzling on the stove, and the eggs almost done. She pulled the eggs off the burner and set it to the side, slipped the biscuits into the fat to fry, and then decided to go out and have a look at what was happening in the yard.

It took her several minutes to make the rounds of the courtyard gathering a bouquet of flowers that she intended to place on top of the serving bar in the Common Room. She was about to gather a second bouquet of flowers when she noticed a wisp or two of smoke floating out the back door of the Kitchen. Dropping the flowers and wrenching open the door, she was met by a burning smell and a thick column of smoke spurting up from the frying pan where the biscuits had been. Worse than that, they were tendrils of flame leaping up from the rendered fat.

Hawthorne kept her wits about her and reached for a large bucket of water that was always kept near the door. She did not notice another pail of sand that was also kept next to it. She hurled the contents of the water pail directly at the oil, thinking this would quell the flame, but it only rose even higher. But now the tiny flames had grown considerably in size and were beginning to crawl up the wooden beam that sat on the wall just behind the stove.

Hawthorne looked on in horror. This was not what she had in mind. Ruby and Buttercup would not be pleased. In fact, they would be very angry. For a minute she wondered if she should try to battle the blaze herself, but then realized that this could only lead to folly. She raced out into the Common Room of the Inn calling for someone to help:

"Help! Help! The Inn's on fire!

[Regin Hardhammer]

The Dwarf’s auburn beard bobbed as he walked down the dirt path to the Green Dragon Inn. Regin Hardhammer had traveled on foot from Ered Luin where just a few of his kind still lived. He was journeying on to the Glittering Caves of Aglarond to help with the mining and metalwork, the colony that Gimli had started following the War of the Ring.

Regin was a skilled metal smith, especially in the fashioning of battle raiment and weaponry. His axe, coat of mail, and helmet were all crafted using the finest precision. He had been trudging along the road for days with nothing but bread, cheese, and water, and had not had a strong ale for far too long. In the wee hours of the morning, after travelling all night, he approached the Inn’s front gate eager to quench his thirst with a nice tall pint. The Inn was quiet when he entered and no one seemed to notice him. A group of Hobbits was chatting softly in the corner. A Man and an Elf sat at a round table sipping their brew wordlessly. There was a pall of weariness over the tavern, perhaps because it was so early or a number of the folk seem weighted down with heavy cares.

“It seems as if someone died in here,” Regin ruefully reflected. He went up to the bar hoping for a drink . A repugnant smell of burnt eggs wafted through the air. Dain shifted his gaze hurriedly around the room. From the kitchen appeared a tongue of flame spreading swiftly across the wood. A hobbit girl stood agape with a pan dropped to the floor beside her. From the open doorway, thick billows of smoke poured into the Common Room.

“Fire,” Regin yelled , “ Fire in the kitchen. Grab a pail from the shed and bring water from the well.” He grabbed a milking bucket outside the inn and hurriedly dashed toward the well. His pint of ale would have to wait.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Witch_Queen's post:

Aduthondiel slowly placed her dagger back in its holder. "Like I said, I'm not going to kill anyone. Hama I don't even want to hurt you. But if you dare lock daggers with me again. Lets just say I will have to tell our lord that you was the one to start it." The cut on her cheek was beginning to bleed again. She quickly wiped away the blood.

"Crystal I won't be leaving for some time. So your father will have to wait." She turned to look at Hama. "Dear friend why would you want to hurt me. I was always better at swords than you." She knew that times had changed. The young boy she once knew had grown up.

Does he dare to challenge me? If it wasn't for me where would he be now? Aduthondiel took her elvish cloak off. Her sword began to glow. Aduthondiel pushed on the hilt of the sword to make it fit securely in place. "Yet now it appears that you are happy here Crystal. So I will leave in a few days or weeks to set back out to find your father. It will surely be death for me if he finds out that you are still alive. Don't forget it will be death for you too Hama if he hears of the news."

Death.. It sounds only welcoming that I should want to die now. After all my troubles I won't deny this girl happiness. Even with such a creature as a hobbit.

She turned as she heard the screams coming from down stairs. "The inn's on fire." Aduthondiel wasn't used to a place catching on fire out of nowhere. It's got to be the kitchen. But if the fire spreads then what?

[Child of the 7th Age]

Angel_Queen's post:

She didn't feel right sleeping on the bed. Ravon picked up the pillow and began to lay down on the floor when she thought she heard a scream. "Lewis did you hear that. I think someone said the kitchen was on fire."

Ravon quickly noticed that she wasn't imagining it. Someone did say that the kitchen was on fire.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Piosenniel's post


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.
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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff and Postmaster; his pony’s name is Dumpling.
_____________________________________________
Please Note:



No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn.


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.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.
_____________________________________________
IT IS NOW VERY EARLY MORNING IN THE SHIRE.


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Child's post:

Two Important Notices:

1. I am transferring over the fire posts from the old board. If I inadvertently left anyone off, please send me a pm and I will correct the error.

2. There is a fire in the Inn. Read the earlier posts. Please have your own post reflect this. We would appreciate your help in combatting the fire! If you want to do a post that is unrelated to that, make sure to state that you are on the upper floors of the Inn, not in the Common Room or near the kitchen.

Thanks.

Cami Goodchild, Shire Mod (Child of the 7th Age)

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hama of the Riddermark's post:

Hama stirred in his chair, the yelling of Hawthorne had awoken him, and he opened his eyes drearily, then he heard what she was saying..."Help, Help, the inn's on fire!' rang out clearly in his ears and it took him a second to comprehend the meaning...as soon as it was comprehended and his sleep-dulled mind realized that he had to help, he leapt up off his chair and dashed outthe door, hurling it against the wall with a loud bang. He raced down the stairs, trying to go quickly and trying not to his his head at the same time...

As he burst into the common room he saw Hawthorne shouting at the top of her voice and a few tears were in her eyes. She looked helplessly up at Hama...Hama shook his head and ran into the kitchen, barging the other people out of the way who were crowding around, trying to get a look at the blaze themselves, Hama took a step into the kitchen and recoiled. The smell was so bad and the smoke so high he coughed violently. He spotted the cooking pan on the stove and made towards it...

Seizing a towel off the sideboard he hurled it over the pan, but it simply incinerated in seconds. Hama coughed again, another idea formed in his mind...Seizing the pan by the burning handle he swung it round once and hurled it out of the window, it rolled down the garden, leaving a trail of burning oil, and eventually bounced onto the road, where it continued to burn violently. The trail of il on the grass soon went out, and let a high column of smoke climb into the air...

Hama cried out in pain, the oil had burned right through his leather gloves and burnt the palms of his hands, he clutched them at his waist and gritted his teeth. Looking around he saw several hobbits with bemused faces, and the burning wooden surroundings...the wooden beams had caught, as had a few of the wall posts...

Hawthorne poked her head round the corner gingerly...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Angry Brandybuck's post:

Angry sauntered down the raod on the way to the Green Dragon Inn to see Crystal. After the scare earlier in the evening, Hama had advised that it would be best for her to stay at the Inn with her protection for just one night. He had gone home not having enough money for a room.

As he approached the Inn he was aware of a vague sense of commotion. It didn't interest him much, he was far to calm to get worked up about a commotion in an Inn.

He was stopped short in his path by a ball of fire crashing past him into the road. He stood in shock for an age before looking where it had come from. He traced a trail of destruction all the way up the beer garden to the kitchen window, where Hama was standing, seemingly in pain.

Angry got the idea that the crowd surrounding Hama probably wanted him to do something. He looked at the burning pan, the singed hairs on his feet, the shouting crowd, the burning pan again. Slowly the look of confusion melted from his face leaving a gleaming smile, I am so clever he thought.

He bent down and grabbed a couple of handfuls of dirt and threw them onto the fire. A few more of these and the blaze was soon controlled, and nearly out.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Piosenniel's post:

Buttercup and Ruby
‘What’s that I smell?’ cried Buttercup, sitting up in her little bed. She picked up one of her pillows and threw it at the still sleeping form of Ruby. ‘What!’ came the muffled reply as Ruby pulled her covers over her head. ‘It’s not time to get up yet, is it.’

‘Well you’ld best get up and get your short shanks moving.’ Buttercup threw Ruby’s dressing gown at her as she wriggled into her own. ‘There’s smoke drifting up from the kitchen. Lots of smoke! We’ll be burnt to crisps if we don’t get out of here!’ Ruby was up in less than a wink, jamming her arms into the robe and taking off for the back stairs.

‘Wait! Don’t go down that way! That’s where all the smoke is coming from,’ cried Buttercup. The serving girls’ rooms were above the kitchen area and accessed by a small, private stairway leading up from the kitchen. They ran to the window in their room, noting the people gathering in the back yard below. ‘You there!’ yelled Buttercup to the auburn bearded Dwarf just rushing back toward the kitchen’s door, a bucket, with water slopping out as he ran, grasped firmly in his hands. ‘Put down the buck, Sir, and steady this so we can climb down.’

Over the windowsill came the cascading rope ladder that Cook had made them put there when they had first arrived. Secured by stout hooks on the sill’s inner edge it reached nearly to the ground. Buttercup motioned for Ruby to start down first, then quickly followed.

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[Child of the 7th Age]

Crystal Heart's post:

Crystal heard the yelling and had ran downstairs to see if she could help. Her only instinct was to throw water upon it, but she knew that sometimes that could fuel the ever growing dangerous fires.

She saw Angry and smiled in delight. He had come back for her and she was so grateful.

"Angry!" Crystal called as she ran over to help him.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Fool of a Took's post:

Grimm of the Riddermark

Grimm suddenly woke up. What's that? He smelled something. He qucikly ran out o the bed and looked around. He couldn't hear anything, but it was smelling smoke.A fire?! He opens the door to his room and looks out. It smelled much more now. He could hear someone screaming downstairs. He ran inside and quickly got dressed. He ran down the stairs and saw many worried faces standing there. "What's going on?!" he shouted. He looked around himself. I wonder where Cree is. I hope she is safe. He almost got paniced as he couldn't find her. He asked many of the people 'Have you seen an elf around here? Her name is Cree!'. Everyone shook their head and said that they haven't seen her.

Someone shouted "Everyone get outside, the place is on fire" Many of the people started screaming and ran out in panic, yet Grimm remained. A hobbit passed him and said 'Hurry!'. Grimm wanted to see if Cree was at her room, but that would be foolish to run in there now. She must be outside! He turned and ran out.

Outside many stood and looked at the Inn. Some of them were crying others just chocked and didn't say a word. Grimm looked everywhere outside for Cree, but she seemed to have disappeared. He was out of control, his heart began to beat faster.He couldn't find her. He screamed out his fear and sorrow that she would die. He fell to his knees and looked at the Inn. A man laid a hand on his should and said "You must help us fighting the fire! Here, take this and go get some water!" The man gave him wooden bucket. Grimm rose up and ran to the well a few metres away. Cree must be alright, my heart tells me that she is! So he started helping the others to fight the fire.

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[Child of the 7th Age]

Feared Half-Elf's post:

Elkamia was woken by the stench of heavy smoke, and leapt out of her bed. Throwing on some clothes, she ran down the stairs to the kitchen, where the fire seemed to be.

Most of the guests were out now, and she floowed them. She could do more to help if she was outside. Grabbing a bucket that was half hidden by earth and filling it at the well, she proceeded to help the others throw water at the blaze.

"Wonderfull." She though, as she threw water. "The day I stay here is the day it goes up in flames. My cursed bad luck. At least it got me out of bed earlier."

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[Child of the 7th Age]

Primrose Bolger's post:

Kiera had been awake since first light – picking at the remains of her last night’s meal. She’d hauled up the basket of food the old man had left for her last night to her perch on one of the broad limbs of the oak tree in the front yard of the Inn. It was delicious! And the hot tea had given her a warm feeling from head to toe.
She was just thinking of making a dash to the pump at the front of the Inn to fill her now empty flask, when she heard cries coming from the windows that were being flung open along the front and side of the Inn. Dark, smoke roiled out, and the smell of burning grease assailed her nostrils.

Curious, she climbed down from the tree and ran to the small copse of beech that grew on the west side of the Inn. From there she could see a number of people of all sorts milling about near the well that stood in the back yard, buckets in hand. And a lone Dwarf holding a rope ladder as two kuduks climbed down to safety.

Putting aside a small bit of her native caution, she crept closer behind a screen of low bushes that shielded the kitchen garden, watching the bigger folk and the kuduk sort things out in the yard beyond. A strangely wonderful place, this Green Dragon Inn. Elves, and Men, and Dwarves. And the little folk. Pulling her cloak about her, she huddled in behind the bushes, wondering if this were a daily occurrence in this strange land.

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[Child of the 7th Age]

Amanaduial the Archer's [post:
Shadow of Starlight

Aman drifted slowly out of sleep, a strange sensation itching at the insides of her nose. She sniffed a few times, hoping to clear it...and sudden realisation dawned. The Innkeeper's eyes snapped open and she threw back her bed covers and stood, all in one movement. Running through the dark room to the door, she flung it open, grabbing her sleeved cloak from a peg as she went and pulling it on over her nightdress. Running down the corridor, she came out in the Common Room where utter chaos reigned, people running around and shouting, some angry, some authoritative, some wide-eyed, all scared and fighting for the door.

The smoke was much thicker in here, and Aman waved a hand in front of her face trying to clear it. Looking around, her eyes suddenly widened as she caught sight of the kitchen door - and more importantly, the thick black smoke flowing under the bottom and around the sides. Hastening towards it, she nearly put her hand on the doorknob, before realising it would already be scaldingly hot to judge from the amount of smoke issuing from it. But from inside she could hear a sound...was that a voice?

"Hawthorne..." horrible realisation struck Aman. Had that been a voice, and was it that of the young hobbit? She hadn't see her in the crowded Common Room... "Hang on, Hawthorne, get to the window!" she yelled through the door, then coughed again, more violently this time. Turning to the chaotic Common Room, she bellowed with all the authority and power she could muster, "Get into two lines to go through the doors! You - yes, you, the hobbit with the hat - for goodness sake, put down the ale tankard, man! - open up the other door. The catch at the corner..."

Aman was struggling to be heard and the hobbit was obviously confused, tired and, from the look of his eyes, even redder than most, suffering from a hangover. Fighting her way to the front with yells of "MOVE!", the Innkeeper managed to get to the front and, undoing the catch with hands that suddenly felt like pillow cases, she flung open the second door. The crowd surged forward gratefully and Aman was pushed out of the way, only able to watch, fearing some poor souls were going to get trampled. But this was no time for courtesy; reaching forward, she grabbed one man roughly by the shoulder, recognising him as the Rohirrim man, Grimm.

"Grimm, please - go around the side to the kitchen door. Do you know where it is? A red door - oh look, you can't miss it. Just get it open, take someone else if you need help-"

"Cree, have you see Cree?!" he interrupted, his eyes wide. Aman, frustrated, let him go. Looking frantically around the room, Aman couldn't see the familiar faces of Ruby or Buttercup, and what's more, their room was almost above the kitchen. Seeing the competent looking hobbit lass from the night before, she pulled her back from underneath the feet of the two panicked Big Folk who looked about to trample her.

"You, what's your name?"

"Asphodel Hamfast, miss." The girl's eyes were wide, but she answered politely, keeping her head.

"Asphodel - do you know your way around the Inn?"

The hobbit nodded. "Somewhat, miz Aman. Can I help?"

Good girl... "You know where the guests' rooms are, Asphodel?" A nod from the hobbit lass. "Could you run up there and bang as hard as you can on the doors of all the rooms, shouting as loud as you can that there's a fire?"

Asphodel nodded again, a determined look in her pretty, dark eyes. "As you say, Miss." Darting away, Asphodel was soon lost to the crowd. Aman didn't have time to check whether the hobbit got to and up the stairs, as she turned to go towards the servants' quarters. She still hadn't see Ruby or Buttercup, and what if they hadn't woken up for some reason? Cloak flapping around her and hair flying, Aman set off at a run.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hama of the Riddermark's post:

Hama started to make towards the door to get out, but the burning framework collapsed in front of him, blocking the door. He saw Hawthorne scampering away and cursed. He looked around franticly as the flames grew higher and higher around him. The smoke was asphyxiating and he gagged and retched, falling to his knees as he choked. "No" he thought "stand up, lying down makes you die faster.

The flames licked at the ham of his cloak, which began to catch fire. Hama jerked it away quickly, but it was a losing battle. Hama looked up to the ceiling and saw the burning roof creak. "Oh no..." he thought...

The bundle of burning frangments came down in a fireball onto Hama and he cried out in agaony. He flailed around and tried to bat out the flames, but it was hopeless. All his clothes were alight now, and his skin was burning. Using the last of what energy he had he ran at the window and dived. The glass shattered under his weight as he tumbled into the beergarden. A hobbit saw the flaming man come out of the window and lie still and shouted "Over there! Look, over there!"

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne Brandbuck:

Hawthorne sat in the back courtyard of the Inn holding her head in her hands and rocking back and forth. The small hobbit was moaning deliriously, "What have I done? What have I done? Even Uncle Merry can't get me out of this!"

Then she sternly pulled herself together. "What a mess! I've got to get help!" Running into the stables, she vaulted onto the back of a horse and took off at a gallop, disappearing down the lane in the direction of Hobbiton and Bag-end.

A short time later, in response to Hawthorne's summons, a large contingent of hobbit helpers came running and riding up the road heading straight for the Dragon, their arms loaded down with pails of water. Samwise Gamgee rode at the head of the group on his pony Billie-lad, with Shirriff Halfred and Dumpling coming up just behind him. Amaranthas, one of the the oldest hobbits in the Shire and reputed to be a fine healer, came bumbling up in her cart, bearing her kit of herbs and other medicines.

Once Hawthorne had reached Bag-end and blurted out her painful news, Mayor Samwise had acted quickly in calling for extra help. Riders on horseback roared up and down every lane in Hobbiton and Bywater, urging the folk to come out and join the fire brigade. There was a large bell on the grounds of the Inn. Two of the younger hobbits were tugging down on the rope as hard and fast as they could to make sure everyone heard the summons to come out and help.

Within a short time, Samwise had organized a bucket brigade that started at the back door of the Inn and snaked down all the way to the Pond. Elves, hobbits, and men formed a single line, passing the pails of water forward and back as quickly as they could. The bravest of the folk went into the Inn itself to battle the flames that were crawling up the walls of the kitchen and spreading into the Common Room. Others climbed on top of the Inn using ladders, removing the thatching over the kitchen with large scythes to make sure that the fire did not blaze up on the roof. Very, very slowly, they began to make a bit of headway.

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Amaranthas had gotten down from the cart with Hawthorne dismounting from her horse and coming up to offer her help. "You're the one who started all this?" the older woman barked to the younger.

"Yes, maam. I made a terrible mistake. I tried to do something I shouldn't have done without someone helping me."

Amaranthas scowled and shook her head, "Then you'd best help me tend to these sick ones, since you're partly responsible for them being here." Hawthorne meekly nodded and went to work, doping everything that Amaranthas told her to do.


The two hobbits hastily made their rounds to anyone who needed medicine or water, laying out pallets on the other side of the road and administering herbal salves in cases where it was needed. Hawthorne lugged a water bucket around with several cups so those fighting the fire could quench their thirst.

The only person seriously injured seemed to be Hama whose coatails had indeed caught on fire until someone had doused him with a pail of water. Fortunately, the flames had only singed his body, but he was still in considerable pain. Gently, they laid him out on one of the pallets. Hawthorne looked on while Amaranthas tended to the needs of the Man.

"Will he be alright?" Hawthorne probed.

"I expect so, but he has some nasty burns. And he can't be feelng very well."

Hawthorne tried to push down her mounting feeling of guilt and concentrate on doing whatever she could to bring this mess under control.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Kransha's post:

Toby was barely awake. He had an ugly feeling that he was dreaming, but the vivid smells told him firmly that he wasn’t. He sighed groggily as he staggered around the smoky room.

“Someone say something about pipe-weed?” he murmured incoherently.

He stepped on something very hot, which triggered an extremely painful chain reaction in which the venerable hobbit shot up into the air, landed on something else equally hot, and began hopping very stupidly around the room until he came to rest on something partially cooler than anything else his bare feet had the misfortune to step on. He staggered again, trying to get his bearings and looked around. A mixture of murky gray and flaming red filled the room with brilliant colors. In his not-quite-awake state, Tobias at first wasn’t sure what he was seeing. After a second of deliberation, he came to the conclusion that it was fire.

“What in the Shire is going on here?” Toby knew the answer was obvious. The inn was on fire and his voice could barely be overheard in the confused din created by the crowd. Flame-induced mayhem was all around him, something Toby Hornblower was definitely not used to. Without waiting, he headed towards the burning wreck which he thought to be the door. His stomach began to wrench uncomfortably back and forth as the smoke began wafting around him. He began running and stumbling his way faster towards the charred opening.

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[Child of the 7th Age]

Arry's post:

So engrossed was she in the goings on in the yard that she did not hear his approach. Alwin stepped up beside the little figure and crouched down beside her. She startled and made to move away, but he laid his hand lightly on her arm. ‘We should help, Mistress Druedain.’ He nodded toward the Inn’s herb garden. ‘If you will gather them, I’ll see that those who need them will have the benefit.’

He thought she would bolt despite his words. But after a moment of consideration, dark brown eyes scanning his face, she drew up her hood and turned her gaze to the garden. In a brown blur she sped through the garden, her hands moving with a purpose among the plants. In a trice she had delivered them to him, and with a small nod withdrew. He stood, watching her form zig-zag through the smoke, moving from bush to tree, until the oak tree was at last reached.

His own path took him back to the road where an older Hobbit had set up a makeshift place to care for the injured and those overcome by nerves or the smoke. ‘Mistress,’ he said, drawing her attention and a mild glare as she turned from one of the singed Hobbits. ‘Here are some fresh herbs good for burns, and congestion, and overwrought nerves.’ He rolled up his sleeves and picked up a bucket of cool water and a fresh rag. ‘I have some small skill with healing. Let me help if I may.’

Alwin crouched down beside one of the wheezing Little Folk, his hands wiping the soot from eyes, nose, and mouth with the now wet rag. His voice was soothing, words almost inaudible as he drew the Hobbit to a sitting position. His strong fingers crushed a piece of root and leaf he had brought and popped it into the Hobbit’s mouth. Then, giving him a small dipperful of water and a few words of comfort, he moved on to the next one.

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[Child of the 7th Age]

Son of Bombadil's post:

Lewis woke suddenly from his short sleep to the sound of Ravon's voice, "Lewis did you hear that. I think someone said the kitchen was on fire." Lewis sat up quickly and he could also hear the shouts of 'Fire! Fire!' He quickly pulled on his boots, and gathered his stuff under one arm. "Quickly, grab your stuff and get outside!" he said in a worried tone to Ravon.

Lewis opened the door to smoke right in his face. The inn was definately on fire. "Cover your mouth, don't breathe in the smoke," He said, and motioned for Ravon to go out the door. They went down the hall, and Lewis knocked on doors and yelled about the fire as he went. Soon, they were down the stairs and out of the inn. He moved quickly to a safe distance away from the building and threw his stuff on the grass. He then looked for some way to help combat the fire immediately.

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[Child of the 7th Age]

Galadel Vinorel's post:

Galadel leapt quickly to her feet from where she sat cloaked by the fireplace as she saw the worried look on the face of the innkeeper, who had just entered the room. "Something is very wrong," she thought to herself. Then she heard Aman cry, "Get into two lines to go through the doors! You - yes, you, the hobbit with the hat - for goodness sake, put down the ale tankard, man! - open up the other door. The catch at the corner..."

The smell of burning wood filled the elf's nose. "A fire!" she thought to herself. Moving quickly, Galadel rushed over to Aman's side. "May I do anything to help, mam?" she asked as loudly as she could above the noise of the flames and the terrified people in the room.

Aman looked over at the elf, and was about to say something when Grimm interrupted her saying something about someone named Cree. Aman became busy again trying to deal with the guests and the fire.

Galadel, left to herself once more, noticed people carrying buckets of water to the kitchen, where the fire was now blazing harder than ever. One of the men had just thrown his water onto the blaze, and was about to return to the well outside. The female elf rushed over to him and bowed quickly, motioning to the bucket. He nodded back and pushed the bucket into her arms, and then ran off to help with the gathering up of the few children in the inn.

Rushing outside, Galadel followed some of the folks to where the well was. She then began to go back inside when she noticed a man laying on the ground in the beergarden. He was badly burned and was just lying there, moaning in pain. A hobbit and a few others were bent over him, not sure of what to do to help him.

Moving with amazing speed, the elf hurried over to where the injured figure lay. Galadel knelt down on the ground, placing her bucket beside her, and unstrung the bag of herbs from her side. Pulling out a few small leaves, she pushed them into the hand of a woman kneeling next to her. The lady looked up into the eye's of teh elf questionly. "Crush them and then put the pieces in the water," Galadel answered swiftly, and then went back to work.

The man wasn't burned very much at all on the front side of his body, yet his back was burned badly, since his cloak had caught on fire. Laying her cloak on the ground as a cusion for him, Galadel, along with the help of two hobbits, flipped the man gently over onto his stomach. Now she could see the true damage that the fire had done to him.

The man groaned, and Galadel began to sing a soft lullabye quietly to calm him. Slowly the man's muscles untensed and he stopped moaning in pain. His breathing slowed down and visions filled his mind of far away lands and beautiful woods. Everyone gathered around the injured man and the elf also calmed down.

Galadel then peeled the burned cloak off the man. When she took it off, though, it fell into dust. Astounded, she looked down at the burned back of the man's shirt and pants. In a few places the shirt and pants had both been burned so badly that his charred sking was showing, yet it was not as bad and she had feared that it would be.

Slowly, the elf poured some of the mixed water and herbs onto the burned skin of the man's back and legs, all the while singing her gentle song. The man hardly flinched at all while this was being done, for he was in a dream of wonder of delight, walking through a wood were the trees had golden leaves.

After she was finished, Galadel sat back on the grass and sighed, peering at the sleeping man. His breathing was soft and rythmatic, yet she knew that he would soon wake in pain. So, she kept singing, picking up a different tune. Every five minutes or so, she would place another layer of herbs and water on the burned places of his back.

After a little while Galadel and the others that were gathered around her carried the man to where a small, makeshift care area had been made by a hobbit. There the injured were treated by Galadel and many others, who were also uninjured, while inside the inn the workers fought the flames that tried to consume the inn.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Kransha's post:

The hobbit, his clothes singed and his feet in a world of pain, practically jumped out of the Green Dragon Inn, stumbling and running onto Bywater Road. He bounced and hopped like a very dull rabbit that wasn’t quite sure which way he was going. He made it past the gathering crowd of weary and beleaguered escapees of the wreckage, which was still burning fervently behind him.
“Water!” he cried very loudly, “Is there any water in this blasted place?”

He roared with discontent, tripping over his own baked hobbit feet and landing clumsily in a disoriented heap on the ground. He pulled himself up and began to fumble wildly through the crowd, rudely pushing a number of people aside in his quest for aid and some cold water to pour on the charred soles of his feet.

He slipped again and landing flat on his back, groaning in annoyance. He jumped up again and continued on his so far fruitless mission, still dancing about like a drunken idiot on the road, avoiding the injured folk lying or reclining on the ground. He could see some people helping the traumatized inn-goers and ran towards them heedlessly.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Linnahiril Tinnufinwen's post:

Asphodel ran up the stairs as fast as her little legs could carry her. She couldn’t believe the strange events of the evening. She had fallen asleep during the story telling, and had awoken, to discover that she was still in the Green Dragon, lying on a bench next to the left wall of the Story Room, covered in a bright green blanket. She had been alone, and utterly bewildered. But a note from her father on a table near the bench had explained the whole thing. Not wanting to wake her, they had asked permission of one of the bar maids to leave her there for the night, granted that she was well watched over, and was safe.

It was only after she had finished reading the note that she began to notice anything strange. She heard strange yells from the kitchen, and noticed that the air was beginning to be uncomfortable to breath. It was then that she had ran out and came in contact with Aman, the barkeeper.

Asphodel approached the first door in the long hall, which had Hobbit sized rooms, and began to pound on the door with her fists and holler at the top of her lungs. A chubby Hobbit man, nightcap still on his head and slippers on his feet, answered the door. He looked really grumpy.

“What in the name of the Shire is going on?” he grumbled in a low, throaty voice. “What is a Hobbit lass like you doing, going around and disturbing people’s rest at this hour?”

Asphodel’s yelling had woken several other Hobbits. Somewhere peering tentatively out of their doors, while others had shuffled out into the hallway.

“Forgive me, sir,” said Asphodel hurriedly, “but there is a fire in the kitchen. Everyone needs to get out as soon as they can!”

The Hobbits got into a crowd on the stairs, some whispering to each other, others beginning, slowly, to gather their things. All of them still seemed in shock. Asphodel didn’t care. She ran past them and into the next hall.

The Inn had so many halls of different shapes and sizes, and so many different doors and occupants, that by the time Asphodel was finished, she was huffing and puffing. The smoke had drifted upwards, now, and most of the Inn had been cleared, so she ran down stairs.

The fire in the common room seemed more under control than it had been. From the open Inn door, she could see that outside, all sorts of Hobbits and other creatures where trying their best to put the fire out. She surveyed the common room once more to make sure that no one else was inside, at least that she could see, and was about to go outside, when she was struck by a sudden thought. The green blanket, the one that had been on top of her when she had woken up, probably belonged to her aunt. The fire didn’t look to be too bad, so she ran quickly back into the Story Room.

She located the bench and went to retrieve the blanket. She had just picked it up, when she was suddenly startled by a strange roaring sound that sounded almost like running water. In another moment, the left wall of the Story room had burst into flames. The fire had obviously started up again. The force of the blast sent Asphodel sailing back onto the floor, and had slammed the Story Room door shut.

Starting to get slightly nervous, Asphodel ran to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob. She jerked her hand back, as a searing pain began throbbing in it. The door handle had been incredibly heated by the fire, and she could not touch it.

"How am I going to get out?" thought Asphodel in a panic, as there were no windows in the Story Room. She heard the loud cracking of wood, and jumped back just in time, as the Story Room door burst into orange flames, which began climbing the surrounding walls. The fire was all around her. There was no way out!

"Help!" screamed Asphodel in sheer terror. Each breath that she took burned her lungs, and she could no longer keep her eyes open, because of the stining smoke. "Help, someone, please!" she yelled again. "I'm trapped! Someone, please, help!"

She could feel the intense heat of the flames on her skin. She tried to call out again, but thick smoke filled her lungs, and she was overcome with coughing. It became harder and harder to breath, as though someone was pressing a cloth to her mouth and nose. The roaring sound of the fire was all around her, though she could not see it. Exhausted from coughing and lack of oxygen, she fell, face forward, onto the hard wooden floor. The smoke, slightly lessened from being close to the ground, allowed Asphodel to make one last call for help, before blackness overwhelmed her senses, and unconsciousness took her.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree
Cree began looking around. "Grimm where are you?" The inn was on fire around her. She didn't want to believe that it was really happening. "Avalon!" Cree began to scream with fright. She had never had to deal with being in something while it was on fire. She looked around to see if there was a way out. Cree walked towards where she thought was outside of the inn.

Suddenly something hit her shoulder. "Avalon don't scare me like that." Cree could see others fighting the fire. "We've got to help. The inn means so much to me and all the others." When she found Grimm she began to ask questions. "What do I need to do?" She knew she had to help in some way.

Aduthondiel
Aduthondiel looked around. She had to help in some way. She noticed that someone seemed to still be in the inn. "Is that Hama?" She ran towards the figure when she heard her horse coming towards her. "Count, it is good to know you are still alive."

Aduthondiel quickly mounted her horse and began to head towards the figure. "It is Hama." She wanted to help him.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Regin briskly toted an oak bucket filled with water he drew from the well. The cool water made a sloshing sound brushing up against the brim so that trickles streaked down the side as he walked. Suddenly, Regin heard the commanding voice of a young hobbit girl. Quite startled, the dwarf looked up and saw two young haflings lowering a rope ladder from a window.

“ I will be there right away,” yelled Regin. The dwarf dropped his pail on the ground, spilling the water, and rushed to grab the edge of the rope ladder and steady it.

As Regin steadied the rickety rope ladder, the two girls quickly descended one trailing the other. Regin bellowed out as the two hobbits climbed down, “ You two be careful. Wouldn’t want the fragile hobbit lasses to get hurt. Careful now.” They were a whole foot shorter than he was and looked to be a bit thin and spindly by dwarf standards.

A few feet before the middle of the ladder, a frayed rope snapped and the girls tumbled down. Regin caught them both as the ladder fell to the ground. He admonished them halfheartedly, “ Now I told you two to be careful, but does anybody listen to Regin? Oh it wasn’t your fault anyway, that was a decrepit ladder, and it was bound to break any day. Things always break when you most need them, so I suppose now would be the most logical time.”

Regin set the two hobbits down gently onto the ground. The inn burned as people tried to extinguish the fire with the pails of water from the bucket brigades. All he had wanted was a pint of ale; was that too much to ask? Boy, I must have come at a really bad time, just my luck. Plus, some of the folk in the neighborhood were having a hard time finding the Inn, which seemed to him a very strange thing since they were all oldtimers around here.

Regin asked dryly, “ So tell me does this sort of fire thing happen often, or am I just lucky. Are you two all right? Good, I’m glad. You should check your rope ladder before you have to use it for an emergency. Who knows what might have happened if I had not been there to catch you.? I must fight the fire now. Goodbye young hobbits.”

Regin picked up a bucket and started walking towards the well, which was lined with members of the brigade refilling their buckets. Then he remembered something he wanted to ask. Halfway towards the well he set down his empty bucket and turned back towards the two young hobbit girls who were still standing next to the window.

He went over to them and asked, “ By the way, do you know of another little hobbit lass, about as tall as you? I saw her in the kitchen when the fire started; she was making breakfast. I judged from the bunt eggs and charred bacon that she wasn’t too good a cook. She looked like she had never cooked before in her life. I am almost sure that she was the one who started the fire. All this mess over such a little hobbit. It is truly amazing. You don’t know whom I am talking about, do you. Is she a friend of yours?”

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon followed Lewis. "Theres got to be something we can do." She looked around and saw a couple of buckets. She quickly ran over to them. "Here Lewis, this might help." She handed Lewis the bucket and began looking for some water.

"We should follow them." She grabbed his hand and headed towards where the others were going. Ravon found the well and began to fill it up when she heard something from behind her. She quickly turned back around and accidently she spilled the bucket of water all over Lewis. "I'm sorry. At least you won't catch on fire." She tried her best to make the fire seem like a dream but she couldn't. It seemed to real to her.

She filled the bucket back up with water and waited for Lewis before she went back to the fire. They can't loose the Inn. It means so much to them. It just can't burn down. Ravon thought she heard screams coming from the fire. But she realized that she was just hearing things. "Its just the wind. Where's a good rain when you need one?"

[SonOfBombadil]

Lewis took the bucket that Ravon handed to him, and ran with her to the well. As she pulled her bucket out, she seemed to get startled and dumped her bucket onto Lewis. "I'm sorry. At least you won't catch on fire." said Ravon. Lewis said nothing in reply, which was odd for him. The bucket of water had given him an idea. Won't catch on fire... Lewis thought he heard a scream, and he knew what to do.

Ravon had just pulled another bucket out of the well, when Lewis grabbed it and dumped it over his own head. "There might be someone in there still. I thought I heard a scream." Lewis said to Ravon. He ran towards the inn, he was going inside to see if there was anyone still in it. Someone grabbed his shoulder, it was Ravon. "Lewis..." "Don't worry Ravon, I'll only be a couple of minutes." Lewis ran into the black smoked entrance, unsure if he would find anyone or not.

[Amanaduial the archer]

The bucket chain was working well and fast, and most of the fire was going down, but one wall, the one nearest the kitchen, was consumed by flames. These licked greedily through the Common Room, filling it with choking smoke as Aman entered, breathless, a hankerchief clamped over her mouth and nose. Despite her fears, the three hobbit servers had got out, but the Innkeeper herself was another matter as came down from fetching them. But she was not going to let anyone, even in a sleepy little hobbit Inn, perish in the flames, and was determined that before she left, everyone else would be safely out.

Most of the guests, it seemed, were out, many of them going out of the windows and supervised by a few men on the ground below. But there was that sound again...like the one she had heard before...but louder, more real, even beyond the sound of the creaking wall and the flames. A small, thin voice, desperate...

Aman peered through the smoky room, her green eyes vivid with smoky tears, looking for some sign of movement. And there it was...a bright cloth, the green strange in the flame-filled cavern of this side of the Common Room, waving...then it fell. Aman had only seen it for a second, but that was enough; picking up her skirts with one hand, covering her mouth with the other, she darted between fallen tables and chairs towards the source of the movement. There, curled protectively into a ball in the corner, was a small hobbit lass - Asphodel. A wave of guilt rushed over the Innkeeper - if it wasn't for her, Asphodel might have been out by now. Rolling the girl over, she looked her over for any immediate signs of burns or breaks which would stop her from being moved, but there were none, luckily - and she was still breathing, thank the Valar. Bending into a squat, Aman picked the girl up beneath her elbows and managed to hold her in the way one might hold a small child, although her head was lolling over her shoulder. She tied the handkerchief quickly around the girl's own mouth to prevent more of the choking smoke from getting in then, tightening her grip, she ran back out through the burning room. But wait...

Aman knew it was stupid and rash, and that she was not only endangering herself, but Asphodel as well, but her business-like side came over her. Diverting her course slightly towards the bar, she grabbed the till, propping it firmly under one arm, then ran as fast a possible, even as the wall nearest the kitchen creaked and fell. Ashes and sparks and soot were everywhere, falling behind the Innkeeper and her burden and over them, as Aman sprinted, one arm shading her face and Asphodel's, the other clinging to the till, out through the door into the fresh, clean air...

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm of the Riddermark

As Grimm saw Cree he felt relieved. He smiled to her and hugged her. "I am so happy you are alright. I was so worried!" he said and smiled again to her. He looked back at the Inn that was totally on fire. "I don't know what you can do right now, ask Aman if she needs something, I must help the others to get water and fight the fire now!" he continued. He hugged her again and ran to the people that fought the fire. He grabbed a bucket and ran to the well. He could hear a hobbit scream as he got a little bit burned when he got to close to the fire. Grimm quickly filled the bucket with water and ran to the hobbit. "Be still!" Grimm said and tried to hold him down. "My hands!" the hobbit screamed. The hobbit had got a red marking of the fury fire. Grimm bathed the hobbits hand in the bucket and then helped him up. Grimm took up a piece of fabric he had in his pocket and laid it around the hobbits hand. The hobbit bowed and thanked him. Grimm told him to go back and get some more water on hit. He turned to the Inn and casted the water to the fire. The fire has grown strong! This will be hard!

"Are everyone safe? No one is left in there?" Grimm asked Aman as he passed her when he was getting some more water. His hair was wet and heavy, his gaze was blurred and he could barely stand up. The smoke was overwhelming. He coughed and looked up at Aman that seemed scared. "It will be alright, Lady Aman" Grimm said and laid a hand on her shoulder. He was sweaty of the all the warmth. A few of the smaller hobbits were sitting on the ground. A hobbit child was crying and her mother seemed tired and afraid. All the sorrow, Grimm could feel the shadow coming back to him. Sorrow and griev. An evil circle that returns when there is fear and innocent people are in danger, the feeling of losing someone hurt, Grimm knew about it. He coughed and rubbed his eyes so he could see proper. I must be strong!

[piosenniel]

‘In the kitchen!’ squeaked Buttercup. ‘Making breakfast!’ The tips of her ears were a violent shade of crimson. ‘She nearly burns the Inn down on us, and he calls it making breakfast! Friend, indeed!’ Buttercup stomped off toward the front yard of the Inn, a rather murderous glint in her brown eyes.

‘Best you leave her to me,’ said Ruby, as Regin called after the retreating Buttercup. ‘She never took much to that new girl, Hawthorne – the one you saw in the kitchen. And now this,’ she said, waving a hand dejectedly toward the smoke and dying flames. ‘This will be the straw that breaks the donkey’s back.’

Ruby turned to hurry off after her friend, mouthing thanks to the kind Dwarf. ‘I’ll see you get a flagon or two on the house, Master Regin,’ she called out loudly to him as she ran after Buttercup. ‘That is,’ she muttered, ‘if we have a house . . . or any ale for that matter! By the Gaffer’s britches! I hope someone remembers to save the barrels of ale and bottles of wine in the basement . . .’ Her tired legs were protesting the chase, as she kept Buttercup’s back in view.

‘Hawthorne better thank her lucky stars the lass isn’t armed,’ thought Ruby as she came up on the two.

There was Buttercup, Hawthorne’s arm gripped firmly, allowing no escape. Buttercup’s lips were moving rapidly as she glared at the other Hobbit, all the while shaking her finger within inches of poor Hawthorne’s nose.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama sat up and wrenched his own shirt off. He winced as large portions of skin came with it, leaving his back tatooed with red, juicy muscle. He tried to stand up, despite the urgings of the people around him, and swayed slightly as he stood. He set off at a slow walk to the place where Buttercup, Hawthorne and Ruby were standing. As he glanced again at the burning building he had visions of his own home as he had found it on his return, blackened and barren. He took his shirt, dunked it in a pail of water and put it back on, the raw skin of his back was soothed slightly by it and he smiled weakly.

Striding over to Buttercup he wheezed out "Leave her, lass. Whatever you say to her, however you reprimand her, there is still a fire, and no amount of punishing will change that. I suggest that punishings be saved for after the fire is out, and until then you two should work together with the others to get it out." Hama nodded curtly and started to walk away to join the water bucket line...

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling had watched the blaze consume the lower portions of the Inn with interest, but as the inhabitants flooded out an idea began to formulate itself in the recesses of his mind. He settled his weary back against a convenient tree and drew his tattered cloak about him. As the sun rose bringing the new day, he shrunk from her rays and kept to the shadows where he sat like an ancient statue of hewn grey stone, his scruffy beard a black and twisted lichen clinging to his hard and emotionless face.

It had been days since he had eaten a decent meal and the Road from the South, when he had used it, had been long and lonely. He had hoped that the folk of this land would be more trusting -- or at least more easily fooled -- than those he had been through on his journey. Stories of a fat rich land called Shire, where the denizens were small, simple and stupid, had been coming to his ears for years. Snaveling had heard the tales of the Mighty Ones who had gone away South and overthrown the Dark Lord; he had heard how they had returned and led the silly folk of this land against the Men like him -- Men with ambition, and who hungered for new opportunities -- but he did not altogether believe these tales. Looking at these halflings now, as they ran about in disarray and panic at the sight of some flames, he believed them even less.

Amongst the general panic there was some sign of order and discipline, but these were largely by the visitors: a Dwarf rescued some halflings with a ladder, while an Elf tried to organise the healing of the wounded. There were other Men there, but they looked all too much like the Men Snaveling had fled all those years ago: the dreaded Horsemen of Rohan, and the tall warriors of Gondor.

Eventually, the flames began to subside as the rescuers' efforts became a bit more co-ordinated. Snaveling rose up and slipped out of the copse of trees like a shadow. He passed into the smoke and reek of the flames without flinching -- he was used to such things and hardly felt them now -- and stepped through the first open window he could find. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark, and he had to hold a corner of his cloak over his mouth. The smell of burning grease came to his nose and made his mouth water. He followed the smell into the remains of the kitchen, where he scavenged what food he could from the pantry: two badly burnt loaves of old bread and a joint of meat that had been raw when the fire started, but which now dripped and sizzled as though straight from the oven.

Tucking his breakfast beneathe his tunic, Snaveling turned and left the kitchen to see what else he could turn up that might be to his advantage. He moved into the Common Room, all the while keeping out a watchful eye for the people moving about outside. The smoke was, if anything, much worse in here but he kept low and felt about with his hands. There were cries for help from somewhere nearby, and he froze in fear that he had been discovered, but within seconds the cries faded and then stopped. Just as he was about to give up on the search he felt something small and metallic beneath his grasping fingers. Without waiting to identify it, he put it into his pocket.

A sudden noise alerted him to the entrance of several people through the front door. Afraid of being caught in the Inn without any reason for being there, Snaveling slunk back through the kitchen and found his way out through the back hall. He stepped into the sun and squinted with dismay at its brightness. With one last quick look around, he ran for the trees, clutching the greasy food to his body. As he reached the safety of the shadows he remembered the prize that he had put into his pocket. He was just beginning to wonder what it was when he heard a yell that was clearly directed at him. He froze and spun about to face whoever was calling to him.

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa had walked a long way from the shelter of the wild. Being raised as a Ranger of the North had it's advantages, though most of her kin now delt in Gondor with the King. She had traveled a long way to get to the Shire. Now she would stay at the Green Dragon, a good place to rest. Rest, however seemed a long way off. As she had neared the Inn, an all too familiar scent filled the air. She had run until the Inn was in sight and her fear confirmed.

She quickly joined the bucket brigade in stopping the flames. It seemed to late to save the structure, but Roa would not abandoned the task until all others had ceased. It was after many hours of passing the buckets that she realised the number of wounded. Determining that she was more service to them than the Inn, Roa quickly handed off her position to someone else. She then proceded to wander from one victim to another, using the best of her wilderness training of makeshift treatments. She laso did her best to calm the paniced and weeping. She hummed an old tune as she went, a cheerful she often used to keep her own spirits up on the road.

[Kransha]

After a great deal of loud complaining and grumbling, Tobias Hornblower, the aged gentlehobbit from Longbottom, was sitting on the grass that rimmed Bywater Road and fanning his crimson tinged feet. The soles of those feet were coated with charred skin, which wasn’t particularly irritating, except for the fact that he now couldn’t walk without causing himself pain. He looked at the fiery display of color blossoming from the Green Dragon Inn with a mixture of awe, disappointment, and confusion.

Slowly but surely, the fire began to slow its rapid and destructive rate, dying down due in part to the efforts of the people around him. It would have been harrowing indeed to see all these multiracial folk banding together to combat a common enemy, this chaotic natural force, but Toby was too busy mumbling about his poor, injured feet to care. He slowly rose, testing the strength of his tired legs. Lances of pain shot through his lower limbs and the soles of his feet tingled unpleasantly as he attempted to support himself on them. The pain wasn’t great, but Tobias loved making mountains out of molehills. He shook scorched debris from his hairy appendages and began to walk slowly back and forth, past the other escapees.

He looked to the line of men and women valiantly sending bucketfuls of water onto the ruin, now wheezing and coughing with smoke like a sick old man as the fire’s power waned. A gruff noise rising in his dry throat, the hobbit walked toward the water bucket line to find someone who had an inkling of what was going on. Suddenly an idea dawned on him. Despite raging smoke, he could probably get in and out of the structure with relative ease. There would be plenty of valuables, albeit a little damaged, still inside and completely unguarded, giving him the perfect oppurtunity to pilfer a chosen few.

Mustering up some courage and cunning, Toby ran around the bucket line and headed into the inn through one of the collapsed entrances. If anyone asked why he was inside, he had a valid and honest excuse. He’d left his pipe on a table in the common room.

[WarBringer]

Valthalion the Forgotten

Valthalion walked up the lonely road, looking for a place to stay. A Youth of only Sixteen years, many shire-folk wondered why he walked thusly, a sword at his side, a bag on his back and an empty water skin in his hand. Stopping for a brief moment in order to ask for directions to the nearest inn, Valthalion continued his walk to his new destination, the Green Dragon Inn.

As he neared the location, a crimson light sprung up on the horizon, shadowed by a dense, black fog. "That is a fire, or i'm asleep!", bellowed Val, and he sprinted in the direction of the fiery beacon. There he saw a terrible sight-injured people everywhere, and a bucket brigade of brave folk trying to quell the fire's thirst. A young hobbit lass ran toward him and said quickly "Big Person, we need your help in order to stop this fire." That was all he had to hear. Throwing his sword and gear on the ground, Valthalion ran toward the burning building to help the exhausted people.

[Roa_Aoife]

The smoke was getting thick as more and more water dounced the fire. Roa moved closer to the building, directing those to shocked to move. At the sound of her voice a few broke out of the trance and moved away leading a few with them. Some required more force. One young man just stood there with glazed eyes, not moving. Roa imediately recognized as battle-shock. She'd seen it before. She also knew that he wouldn't be able to move on his own. Roa quickly strode over to him and hollared above the din. He didn't so much as blink. She grimaced as she brought back her hand and slapped him hard enough to knock him down. That registered. He blinked and looked up t her. She told him to get out of the way. He nodded and rose to his feet. Roa gave him a shove in the right direction, and whatched to make sure he made it to the safe hands of an elf that was applying medicines. Then she turned to the next victim.

A wave of smoke hit her in the face, and she hit the ground wheezing. Curse her smoke alergy! She would be no use if she couldn't breath. She kept low for a few more minutes untill she could breath again. She noticed a few people running back into the building. Fools! What do they think their doing? She got up to chase after them, another coughing fit seized her. She waited again, trying to gain control of her lungs agin as she pulled out a rag she had been carrying for use as an extra bandage. Roa tied the rag around her nose an mouth, then covered her head with her small cape. She got up to follow the wayward wanderes and force them back outside. Nothing was more valuable than their lives.

[Artalwen]

The door opens, and a tiny figure, almost what could be a child, enters, with a long green cloak covering, the hood over the face.
The hood is drawn back, and a small hobbit woman's face is revealed, long red hair slightly visible. She takes off the cloak and hangs it on the coat hanger next to her, reaching on her tiptoes for the nearest hook. She smooths out any invisible wrinkles on her deep blue dress, and looks around the room. It's noticible that she's a newcomer here, for she is very timid to completely enter the chatter that's inside.

She strolls over to the nearest empty table, made for the hobbit customers, and sits down to look at a menu. Gazing at the list, she finally decides on a drink of just warm milk. She looks up and searches for any sign of what could be an inn owner, but doesn't find anyone, not knowing who the owner could be.

************************************************** **
Artalwen,

Please check your pms.

Cami Goodchild, Shire Moderator (Child of the 7th Age)

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling pulled the last bits of edible bread from the burnt shell of the loaves that he had taken from the pantry and gobbled them down. He then turned his attention to the joint of meat, cutting long strips of flesh from the bone with his knife and eating them with his fingers, pausing only to lick the juices from his fingers or to sponge them out of his beard with his sleeve. The bucket lines formed and the flames were slowly beaten down, and he watched with jealousy as a halfling and a tall Woman went into the building, no doubt intending to pilfer the treasures within that Snaveling had already claimed in his imagination as his own.

The outcry had not been for him, but for a ball of flame blowing out one of the Inn’s many windows. Such mistakes were the price of a guilty conscience, Snaveling knew, having had long experience with his own. At first he had been shaken by fear of discovery, but the food and his hiding place in the trees had done much to restore his confidence, and once again his mind turned toward the guest’s belongings. The guestrooms were undoubtedly on the second floor, which to this point had hardly been touched by the flames. If he were to have any hope of obtaining the goods left behind in the panic to evacuate the Inn, he had to find some way to make sure that the fire was not put out before the Inn was reduced to a pile of blackened timbers.

Snaveling was a sneak and a thief, but he was no coward and had great cunning when it came to his own welfare and gain. So it wasn’t long before he had decided to take some of the sparks that were blowing from the Inn and use them to begin a small fire in the dried twigs and bracken in the copse of trees in which he was hiding. When that fire was well established, he took one flaming twig from the pile and rushed over to a small bush that he had burning and crackling in no time. He flit from tree to bush to copse and soon had nearly a dozen small fires in a ring around the line of people attempting to beat down the flames that were consuming the Inn. So involved were they in their own concerns, none seemed to notice him, for which he thanked his luck and congratulated his quick wit.

Having completed his task, he was forced to move into the crowd of people before the Inn, for there was no longer any hope of safety in the surrounding trees, which would soon be fully ablaze. He moved to the edges of the crowd, hoping not to be noticed. Only then did he remember the metal object he had found in the Inn, and once more he wondered what it might be - but he did not dare take it out to examine it here as who knows what it might be, or who amongst these people might be its owner.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree
Cree looked around. She watched as Grimm began helping the others put out the fire. She didn't want to loose him. He meant the world to her. "It won't live to see another day." Cree knew the inn would soon be lost. What will happen when the inn goes down? "Avalon where will be go? I can't return to Eryn Lasgalen." The inn was like a new home to her. She couldn't return to a place where the council would persecute her. Cree felt herself become dizzy. The fire was only light to her now. "I can't. Not now." Her knees began to cave in. The ground was different than the floor of the inn was.

"No it can't be happening. Not now." Cree had succumbed to her curse. She fell to the ground and all light of the fire was lost to her now. Why now. They need my help. I can't loose Grimm. I must go back. Avalon flew up to the sky to try to locate Grimm. Cree didn't move the entire time that her closes friend was gone. The crow landed on Grimm's shoulder and began to speak to him in language that only a bird could understand. "You've got to help Cree she needs your help. But you can't understand me." Avalon knew that she was only a bird.

She took off towards where Cree was hoping that Grimm would follow her. "Whats wrong Avalon? Where's Cree." Avalon could understand him but he couldn't understand her. She began cawwing but stopped since there was no use. He can't understand me. Avalon landed on Cree's stomach and began cawwing louder. This time she wasn't trying to talk. She wanted someone to help Cree. Cree was the only "friend" to her. All the other crows paid her no mind.

Cree began to move but slowly. The pain in her side had increased when the curse had overtaken her. "Grimm.." Her voice was weak. The fire was now back to light for her. Her curse was no longer her friend. She hated it with a passion. I've got to get rid of it but how.

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon watched as Lewis ran into the fire. She didn't want him to get burned. She filled the two buckets up with water and began to carry them back to the fire. The buckets weren't as heavy as she thought. Ravon was use to carrying heavy things. After all she had trained with the men elves.

She began throwing the water onto the fire. She thought she could see Lewis but instead it was the flames. They seemed as if they were dancing. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't get use to the situation. She looked up to see that she had seen someone in the fire. The shadow of the person was getting bigger. "Lewis?" Ravon wasn't sure who or what it was.

Her heart stopped beating for a second when she noticed that Lewis had made it out of the fire. She couldn't stop now. She had to get back to getting water. As she got to the well she noticed a rock on the ground.
"My father rock, do you forget the kingdom of the fire?
The aeons grind you into bread.
Into the soil that feeds the living and transforms the dead."

She picked up another bucket of water and began to walk back to the fire. "The inn is lost to us now." She threw the water onto the fire and went back to continue getting buckets of water. [I[The inn maybe lost but our spirits won't die yet.[/I]

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa stumbled back out of the building, sputtering. She tore off the rag and cape and made it to open air, where she collasped. She hadn't seen any of the people who had rushed back inside, and the smoke had over taken her again. She looked at the Inn and realized that the lower level was about to succumb to the weight of the second story. She prayed to Eru that the fools made it out in time. She winced as she moved her arm. The burn wasn't serious- it wasn't even blistering- but it stung. Roa looked around and realized that most evryone was indistinguishable from that soot and ash covering them. The bucket brigade had rotated the front of the line to the back, where they could now breath.

Roa took a few more deep breaths before climbing to her feat again. So much for resting in the Inn. They would be lucky if any of the wood was salvageable. An idea struck Roa. The blaze was almost under control, and most of the victims weren't really wounded. Perhaps she could gather a few to ssend for lumber. With the response she'd seen from the Shire-folk, they could have enough matierials with in a day or two. She was about to go find Mayor Samwise- she'd heard a great deal about him from her lord Aragorn- when something caught her attention. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what was happening.

"Fire! It's spread over here!" she yelled in a hoarse voice. Some people heard and spread the alarm. Roa began picking up dirt and throwing it on the flames. Soon another bucket brigade had formed. How did it get to these bushes, she wondered.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm of the Riddermark

As Grimm helped to hobbit up a crow sat down on his shoulder. Grimm then saw that it was Avalon. "Avalon!" he said. The crow cawed and picked on his shoulder. Grimm began to understand that something was wrong. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked. Avalon flew away and Grimm ran after as she continued cawing.Cree? She must be in danger, he thought. After a while Avalon flew down and alnded on someone that was lying on the ground. Grimm fell down on his knees and saw that it was Cree. He coughed. All the smoke made it hard to breath. "Cree?! Oh no! Not that curse again, not now." he said and lifted her up. He carried her back away from the fire a bit and laid her down. He ran after some water and bathed her forehead. Her eyes opened and she coughed. "Grimm....?" she said and her eyes rolled. Grimm bathed her forehead some more and tried to wake her. "Don't fade again, my Lady! Don't!" he said and his voice was worried. His gaze blurred as his eyes got filled with tears. He shook her but nothing happened. The fact that he couldn't help her to get rid of it was hard for him. He burried his face in his hands and got almost paniced of what he should do. He laid his forehead to the muddy ground and cried out his anger.

His hair was filled with mud and his face too. He continued bathing Cree's forehead in hope that she would wake up again. For some reason he began to think that this was his fault. He had left Cree, and she had faded. The curse took hard on her now because of the reason that she came to her too late to help her. He laid his on her chest and listened to her heart. She is still alive, so she must wake up soon The hobbit that Grimm helped passed by and said "What have happened?" Grimm shook his head and said to the hobbit "She have faded, she is sick." The hobbit felt sorry and said "Is there anything I can do to help?" Grimm sighed. "I am sorry, master hobbit, but I am afraid no one can do anything. We will have to wait for her to wake up." He looked at Cree's face that looked scared and sad. He stroke her cheek and smiled.

[Artalwen]

She continued to glance around, her blue eyes questioning about where an inn owner could be, and finally gave up on ordering something for now. Instead, she decided on staying in the inn for the night.

She went up to the front desk, and since her small size didn't reach over the top of the desk, the person working at the desk couldn't see her.

"Umm, excuse me?" her small voice tried to shout out, to get the person to see her. She stood on her tiptoes and shouted again. The person glanced up, but not seeing anyone, looked back down to whatever work was on the desk.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree began to wonder about what was happening in the real world. She felt someone touch her. Her body flinched. "Grimm? What's going on?" Though she didn't open her eyes she still knew who it was. Avalon had perched herself on Grimm's shoulder. Avalon was worried. She must come to. She must. Cree opened her eyes to see that it was Grimm who had touched her. "Don't cry my love. I am fine now." Cree wasn't sure what she was saying. The smoke from the fire must have been affecting her brain.

Avalon turned her head and looked down at Cree. "Avalon you're here two?" She wasn't sure who she saw beside of Grimm. "Whats going on? I remember that I was standing over there.." She paused. "But how did I get over here?" She could tell that Grimm had taken her away from the fire. She brought her hand up and softly touched his cheek. "Thank you." Her words were weak. She need sleep to replenish her deminishing strength.

[WarBringer]

It did not take long for Valthalion to realize that he was fighting a losing battle. The Inn would fall, despite the heroism and actions of the folk battling the fire. The bucket brigade had worked well for a time, but it just wasn't moving fast enough to combat the consuming fire. "All now seems lost, comrades, but we must fight on, at least to minimize the damage!" This shout wasmet by a roar of approval, and the pace of the buckets quickened. We may yet have a chance... , thought Val, and the young man continued to lend his strength to the cause.

Briefly, his eyes strayed from the blaze on the surrounding area. Somehow, a second fire had started in a few bushes nearby to the Inn. "Something isn't right," thought Valthalion. Leaving the brigade, he slowly walked in the direction of the fire. Already, a bucket line had started near the bushes. Val peered through the smoke toward the fire. For a split second, a shadow was visible to him, a small man looking from behind a tree. Just as quickly, it disappeared. "I must find out whether this happened by chance or by design", said he. Grabbing his gear, he snuck toward the fire.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama walked up to Cree and Grimm, he knelt down beside her and looked over at Grimm. "Still happening?" he asked. "Yes...so it seems..." replied Grimm. "She should see a physician, or at the very least lie down and have something to eat...but the only place to do both is burning to the ground as we speak..." Hama sighed. As Grimm moved he twisted, firmly resolved not to let Grimm see his back...

"I should help the water line..." Hama said..Grimm nodded slowly. As Hama got up he sighed and turned his back to Grimm as he walked away. The patchwork of cloth, skin and raw flesh put a worried look on Grimm's face, but soon Hama was in the waterline, working to help put the blaze out at the very front...Grimm shrugged, Rohirrim Hama was, ans some things, like reckless actions, couldn't be removed from some peoples minds...

[Will Witfoot]

Funfrim's beard was dyed black from the soot and ash, and his face bore several ugly blissters from the fire. Nevertheless he fought on, combating the flames that threatened to claim the whole inn. A pitty, for he had rather liked the place.
Dwarfs were able to stand fire better than any of the free races, so Fungrim was able to work at the head of one of the water lines, at times making perilous trips into the blazing building to save some of the patrons not quick enough to get out by their own accord.

With the help of the locals they might be able to save most of the inn from the flames, but it would be a fair bit of damage caused to the building nonetheless.

Scooping the bucket full of sand he made for the blaze again.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne Brandybuck:

Hawthorne grimaced and flinched as Buttercup's grip inexcorably tightened. Buttercup wrenched at Hawthorne's arm and tugged her forward until the two hobbits stood together directly in front of the Inn. It was a sorry sight. A rush of grey smoke and fumes billowed out the open doorway and windows; part of the roof had been stripped away to prevent the fire from spreading.

"Look what you've done! You.....you.....Brandybuck!" Buttercup bellowed. The serving girl spit out her words one at a time to emphasize the enormity of Hawthorne's crime and then looked away as she fought back tears. The Inn was like a home for both her and Ruby.

Hawthorne felt her stomach lurch as she spied the look on Buttercup's face and surveyed the wreckage all around. Broken glass lay strewn all over the front courtyard; flowers and bushes trampled into the ground. She'd already learned that inside the Inn the wall separating the kitchen from the Common Room had vanished in a cloud of ash and dust. Worst of all were the injured guests, all lying about on mats, or still being rescued from the Dragon.

Hawthorne swallowed back her own tears and looked up in Buttercup's eyes, "You're right. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pretended to know everything about cooking. And I shouldn't have tried to prepare a meal without anyone's help."

Hawthorne sadly continued, "Only, what can I do now to make it right? I only wanted you two to like me. I spent all evening working the hardest I could. And yet you both treated me like a wraith from the Barrowdowns. But that still doesn't make what I did right....."

"Do you think the Inn will be saved?" she whispered over to Buttercup who shrugged her shoulders and head. Hawthorne stared down at the ground.

At that instant, the wind picked up. Great gusts hammered against the wooden frame of the Dragon threatening to spread the flames still further. Those same great gusts skittered across the skies, chasing fat grey clouds in the direction of the West Farthing. All about, the world went dark, with the sun totally hidden from view. Hawthorne opened one eye and peeped upward, afraid to be too optomistic.

Then she felt it. A single drop, then two. A few more and a light drizzle had started. Buttercup stared up at the heavens as the dark clouds whirled and swirled from one end of Bywater to the other. Soon a steady rain was falling.

All about her folk lifted up their heads and marvelled as the blessed rain hit the earth. If the fire brigade could put out the blaze inside the Common Room, the steady rain would do the trick outside. This was no time to slack off on their efforts. The Inn could still be saved. Both hobbits raced over to the line of firefighters and picked up pails, joining a large number of folk who surged forward again to put a stop to the fire once and for all.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling moved through the crowd and tried to look as though he had come to help combat the fire. At first he was delighted by the chaos caused by his fires, but then an accursed rain began to fall and as it did, all his lovely flames began to go up into smoke and ruin. He spat with disgust into a puddle at his feet and joined the crowd of people rushing to combat the fire that was consuming the Inn.

In the press of bodies, Snaveling kept one eye open for an unattended purse or bag that might be needing a new owner, and another eye for the young Man who he was sure had seen him amongst the trees. Fierce young Men with swords and something to prove were something that he had seen too much of in the past: always they sought to prove their mettle by persecuting and shunning him. That is why he took such delight in depriving them of both their possessions and their showy pride.

Even more worrisome to him was the tall Woman whom he had seen running into the Inn, and who had been the first to organize a defense against his fires. Now that he could see her at closer quarters he was able to recognize in her the haughty bearing and distant contempt of a Dunedain Ranger. It was precisely people like her who had made life in the South unbearable to him after that accursed King had retaken the throne of Gondor. She was clearly suspicious of his fires and each time her eyes fell upon him he could feel them boring through his tattered cloak. He hated the eyes of such folk and would have tried to put them out, had the Woman been conveniently asleep and unready.

In all his long years of wandering the lonely wastes between this land of Shire and his home south and west of the White Mountains, Snaveling had learned that it was wisest in circumstances such as these to keep ones enemies as friends. And he knew with every bolt of his subtle cunning that the young Man, and this tall Ranger Woman were very much his enemies. He moved into the bucket line and began to lend them a fervent hand. He called to those further back in the line to bring the water more quickly, and he urged those at its front to be more bold in their attack.

As soon as he could manage it, he got close to the Ranger Woman in order to speak with her. “I think that you share my opinion of the flames that overtook the trees,” he began. “If they were begun by chance, then I am King Under the Mountain.” He dropped his voice low and stepped closer to her. “I saw someone running through the trees just before those new fires started.” The Woman looked at him with caution and asked whom he thought he had seen. Snaveling gathered all of his guile and skill as a liar, pointed at the Young Man and said, “I think it was him.”

[Child of the 7th Age]

Important Out of Character Note:

There is now a steady rain falling. Your posts should reflect that fact.

Cami Goodchild, Shire Mod (Child of the 7th Age)

[Kransha]

From inside, Tobias could tell that the deadly blaze was definitely restricted. He was able to avoid it easily, despite coming dangerously close to some cordoned off fires that clung persistently to the tables and chairs. After years of constant pipe-weed imbibing, Toby Hornblower was not averse to having his lungs slowly filling up with smoke, even though it was bothersome. He made his way conservatively through the wreck and began scanning the area for any unnoticed valuables he could nab for himself.

After less than a few minutes, he’d adeptly collected what could be collected and flitted, with surprising quickness for a hobbit of his age, out of the wreckage. He wasn’t sure if he was spotted going in or out, but, just to be on the safe side, he quickly donned the façade of being one of the traumatized inn-goers. He quickly scurried towards the road, noticing as drops of rain began to fall on and around him. At least it would assist the putting out of the fire somewhat, although it was now mostly out.

Toby sat down briskly on the now rain-soaked grass and pulled his cloak tight around him, concealing some large and prominent bulges in his coat pockets were he’d stuffed silverware and utensils of sorts. No one would notice the loss of these things in the fire’s dramatic aftermath, and he could use them for his own purposes when he got back to Longbottom. He took out a few of the charred items, admired them with a keen and shrewd buyer’s eye, and astutely stuffed them back into the innards of his clothing, glancing around nervously as the rain’s strength increased.

[WarBringer]

Valthalion walked quickly toward the area where the fire had started on the outside. "Thank the Valar for this rain, it will certainly make for a quicker end to this horrible story." Still, there was the question of arson rather than a natural occurence to answer. A fire of such occurence, a ring around those combatting the fire, was no coincidence. Valthalion, sword in hand, began checking the trees for any sign of a guilty party.

Suddenly, he heard a shout from behind him. Walking quickly toward Valthalion was a Tall Woman, and a man who he had seen sneaking around the area earlier. "Perhaps this man is the guilty party", he thought.

The Tall woman spoke first-"You are accused of starting a fire in these bushes, and were spotted sneaking around this area by several Witnesses-what say you?!" Valthalion was shocked and replied, "Who has made such comments, saying such things about a young man who has risked life and limb to save this Inn? Was it you, Darktongue, whose sneaking has not gone unnoticed in itself?!"

The man answered, "Indeed it was I, who spotted you stalking about for no good reason. You are obviously a man who wishes to be noticed. Well, this you have gotten. Accept Guilt, or accept a painful evening."

This indeed angered Valthalion, who gripped his sword tightly, and, stepping toward the man, said "You dare impune the honor of a honorable man of the North?! I believe it was you who started this fire, resulting in torment and injury, and if I am not believed, then I will indeed have to get a confession out of you myself."

[Kransha]

“Hmph, it would be have to be one of those foreigners.” growled Toby, pretending to care which he very obviously didn’t. He walked towards what crowd there was and near the woman he’d seen earlier and the two men of the south. He snorted indignantly and visibly towards them, with a look of disgust on his rodent-like face. His eyes focused angrily on the accused man, whose name apparently was Valthalion or Vilthilion or some such thing which he couldn't recall. The man actually seemed very belligerent at the moment, his hand grasping at the hilt of a blade which hung at his side.

“You see?” He said to no one in particular, “As long as these people can just come and go on our property as they please, none of us are safe. They don’t just soil our lands with their foulness, oh no, they set fires, they burn our homes.” He snorted more loudly, the gruff and firm volume of his gutteral voice rising.
Toby suddenly felt very confident, even though he had no reason. He was the thief and the liar, and he knew it, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that, considering how dire the consequences might be.

“They lie and cheat and burn and this isn’t even their land to do so. I say, make them burn their own lands, cheat their own brethren, and lie as much as they wish somewhere far from the comfort of the four farthings." He said even more firmly than before, waving his arms about to get more attention as he spoke.
He orated with a surprisingly well-acted rage. He didn’t know who’d started the fire in truth. For all he knew, it was some hobbit. He didn’t plan on being exposed as a hypocrite, but this accusation gave him the perfect opportunity to spread his own views to the tired crowd gathered around on Bywater Road.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Galadel heard the angry villager rant and rave about how the “outsiders” were the ones who had caused the terrible fire.

Standing up from where she had been treating a burn victim, the elf responded to the hobbit in a firm, clear voice, “But, sir, how do you know for certain that it was one of us travelers who caused this fire? Maybe it was one of the people of the village, or even one of the workers at the inn. Yet, sir, this discussion is not as important at the moment, I believe, as the fact that there are injured people here to treat, and an inn to fix up. So, why don’t we all work together, rather than pointing fingers, which will only cause more problems for us all?”

With that Galadel knelt back down to her patient and went on with her work of healing the wounded.

[Lumiel]

In a small, lonely corner of the common room, a young girl slept a peaceful sleep. She had not felt so rested since...well, since she could remember. She awoke before dawn, when its first tentative touches of light barely illuminated the dark horizon. None had noticed her stolen stay at the Inn that night, through luck or coincidence she didn't know, and she didn't care either. The floor was cold, but it was warm by comparison of the outside world, had she had to spend the night on a forest floor and she was grateful for that.

After taking a good look at her surroundings, she decided that food was in order. There didn't seem to be anyone about, so she was relatively safe. At least until the servants came to prepare breakfast, which would be shortly she knew. With a light, silent step, the girl made her way to the door towards the kitchen. Carefully, quietly, she eased it open and it swung with only a small creak before she eased it back into place. With a smile on her face and her large brown eyes bright with excitement, she went on a search for breakfast.

She found a small barrel of apples, and helped herself to one. It was sweet and delicious, and she giggled softly as the juice tickled its way down her chin. She ate a second one, and after licking her fingers, dirty though they were, she went in search for more. But her exploring was brought to a halt.

She heard voices approaching and footsteps to accompany them. In a panic, she looked around quickly for a hiding place and saw a tall closet with the door slightly ajar. She ran to it quickly and squeezed her small, thin body between jars of preserves and other foodstuffs. It wasn't long before the servants got busy in the kitchen, and the young girl could feel heart pounding the whole time. Yet, they never went to the closet.

For a short time, it was empty, and the girl was about to try and escape when she heard the movements of someone in the kitchen. She couldn't see them, but they were somewhere nearby and she wouldn't take the chance of being caught. Suddenly, whoever was in the kitchen with her yelled, "Fire! Fire in the kitchen!" and dashed out.

The girl gasped suddenly. A fire? Here? She had to get out, and quick. She threw herself out of her rolled up position amongst the jars and heaved her body at the door, prepared to land feet first and running on the floor. With a loud thud and a painful impact, her body slammed against the door. It was jammed.

Confused the girl peered closely at the small crack between the doors and saw a shadow of a latch. She was locked in. Somehow when she had swung the door closed, it had locked, and she was trapped!

Desperate and in a panic, she raised her small hands to pound on the door for help, but stopped. She heard others in a panic outside the kitchen. If they rescued her, they would know the truth about her! Caught in her fear and the indecision of a child that she had no control over, she missed her chance for help. She could smell smoke now, and it was getting stronger. Before long, she couldn't breathe very well. Now more afraid of dying than of being caught, she pounded with all her might on the doors and yelled, "Help! Help! Please, someone help me!"

As she coughed, she began to shake in terror and tears streamed down her face. She didn't want to die! She could feel the heat of the fire as it began its consumption of the fire, but she seemed to be the farthest away from it she could be in the kitchen, but it gave her no reassurance. She pounded and screamed but none seemed to hear her, and her voice became hoarse and she could barely cough, let alone speak.

The smoke was everywhere now, and she could hear the crackle of flames closeby. Refusing to give up, she slammed her hands again and again on the doors until they were numb and red, with the promise of bruises, if she lived long enough. Her vision swam and her head seemed far too light as she moaned, "Please, oh please, help me!"

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"Come, little one," said her father, beaming down at her. Asphodel, who had been lying all day in her basket, found herself lifted way up over her father's head. From that tremendous hight, she could see the long rows of Old Toby swaying in the breeze, the field stretching, as it seemed, all the way to the end of the sky. The setting sun flooded the pastures of leaves with its warm rays, transforming it into a beautiful golden sea.

Asphodel laughed, and kicked her tiny legs and spread out her cubby arms in excitement. She felt like she was flying, as her father moved her up and down above him.

"Time to bring her in, dear." From behind her, Asphodel heard her mother's voice calling them from the door of their house. She whined, as the magnificent view disappeared behind her father's massive head, and she felt the jerk of his step as he carried her back into the house. She was handed over to her mother, and promptly taken to the tub, where her mother placed her in cold water, and began to pour more over her head. Drop, by drop, by drop, by drop...

Asphodel opened her eyes slowly. They felt heavy with exhaustion. Drops of water were now coming down faster, and striking her skin and clothes. Slowly, very slowly, Asphodel's memories started to come back to her. The strange smoke; the Inn guests; the green blanket; the fire...

THE FIRE! Asphodel jerked her head up. But she was no longer in the Story Room. She was lying down on the ground, on top of her aunt's green quilt, several yard away from the Inn. Though the rain now fell in turrets, and the gray sky and thick gray smoke made it hard to see, Asphodel thought she could make out shadowy figures, moving back and forth. Hobbits putting out the last of the Inn fire with buckets of water.

She suddenly grew dizzy, and she let her head fall back, which made a squashing sound on the now soaked blanket. Her whole body ached from head to foot, and her left hand throbbed unceasingly. Whenever she took a breath, there was a sharp pain in her lungs.

How had she gotten out? She couldn’t remember having escaped the fiery cavern. Had someone heard her desperate calls for help? Whatever was the case, she was lucky to be alive.