The Green Dragon Inn - Part 6

[piosenniel]

We had reached Page 10 on our last thread - the Barrow Wight's limit for topic length in the Shire.

Here is a new incarnation of the Inn for you to play in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 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.

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:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn.

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.
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At present, it is mid-afternoon of a pleasant, midsummer day in the Shire.

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[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma smiled inwardly to herself- Aman seemed to have a way of almost
reading people's minds but how could she bring up the subject of her home. She
tried to think of an idea while sipping her water but it was very difficult,
especially as Tiruviel's (that was the name that she had heard) attention was turning back towards the man she was sat
with.

Then as Aman finally laid down the second of Tiruviel's drinks which, Nuinyulma noticed had taken a very long time to pour, she asked to the shy-elf.

"So, Nuinyulma- how is your water?"

Nuinyulma was slightly taken aback but nevertheless, she saw her chance. "Tis good Aman, though not quite as good as the water from home."

Tiruviel's attention turned. "And, if you excuse me for asking, where might home be?"

"Oh- its the Golden Wood. I left when Galadriel did although I did not follow her path. I was and am still not ready." With that Nuinyulma smiled at both and taking her drink turned to go back to her seat.

"Wait, my friend! If you are an elf of my kin, you must join us. I am Tiruviel and my new friend over there is Caranel. We have both exchanged stories and I am keen to hear yours."

Tiruviel walked over to her table and pulled up another chair. Then, smiling in thanks at Aman, Nuinyulma followed her and sat down. She nodded to Caranel and he did so in return with a look of keen interest in his face.

"So. What brings another she-elf to the Green Dragon? For tis unusual though there are many races that visit here."

"I come from Lorien. I left when Celeborn and Galadriel did- though as I said to Tiruviel- I did not follow their path. My name is Nuinyulma and I wander through Middle-Earth. I have no such purpose except to meet new companions."

"I have visited many places too," he replied staring Nuinyulma right in the eyes, "for I am from Ithilien. Tell me- where have you been?"

"I walked the paths of the land you speak of and of Gondor. I have ridden across Rohan, passed by the mountains and visited Rivendell- though it is empty now."

Caranel smiled at the two elves. "Well. What interesting people you are. You are both from the same wood and yet..and yet..."

"We are so different?!" laughed Tiruviel.

"Yes! That is it! And why is that? Or do I ask too many questions for a man?"

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[Novardaion]

Novardaion started talking to Soronume. It was too long since he had last talked an elf an was enjoying it. He looked a Dynaviir... He was just sitting there.

"Dynaviir are you alright my friend? You are but too quiet!"

Dynaviir shakes his head. He understands that his old friend knows him better than most but not very well.

"Just thinking my friend... just thinking"

[*Arwen*]

Tiruviel was amazed. She had been wandering middle earth for years and, in all that time, she had never met someone as like herself as this pretty she-elf was.
Two new friends in one day!

She felt like she could sit here all day - sipping frosty ale, sharing stories.
She wipped away a frothy moustache from her face as Caranel laughed. She grinned stupidly.

Then, all of a sudden, an idea burst into her mind - screaming at her. It seemed like such a brilliant idea at first, but, as she started thinking, she realised that it might not be a good one. Just imagine, all three of them roaming the land together. She wouldn't be alone any more, and they could keep sharing stories.

No. They were too different, and anyway she didn't know how they felt.
She didn't want to ruin anything.

Just leave it.

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: *Arwen* ]

[Gorothlammothiel]

Having conversed briefly with Novardaion moments before, a silence had taken the table. "How is it that you know Niniel?" Dynaviir asked, protectivly.

Soronume hesistated. "I'm afraid there is no elaborate tale there, Dynaviir. I met the fair maiden in this Inn, not so long ago. She was kind enough to allow me to join her and we have become friends, at least on my part." Niniel blushed at this comment as she replied, "and on mine Soronume." That short tale did not seem to put Dynaviir's mind at ease.

Soronume had noticed that Dynaviir had greeted him with some concern though whether that had been aimed at him directly, or strangers in general, Soronume did not know. However, Dynaviir seemed more ar ease now, and appeared to be happy to see the lady Niniel smile. It lightened Soronume's own heart to see her smile again. She had seemed so sombre of late.

Soronume sensed unease as the table. Though they seemed to have accepted his presence, Soronume could not help but think he was unwelcome at the table and he should take leave and await the lady Niniel at some other time. "Dynaviir, does my explanation not please you? You have such a look on your face that you appear uncomfortable, I should leave you if I am not welcome".

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir looked at Soronume with no expression. He said blankly; "You are welcome, do not go."

Dynaviir sipped the last of his coffee. He looked up at Novardion. He was looking at him with some discontent, as if he was confused.

"Are you sure you are all right?"

Dynaviir smiled at him. "Yes, perfectly well, thankyou."

Dynaviir looked around the table. Niniel hadn't seemed to notice a change in tone, but she looked somewhat uncomfortable. Perhaps at the questions being asked. Dynaviir noticed both Novardion and Soronume were looking at him. He looked away.

"I.. I think I will go and see Doeinwei. It's such a beautiful day."

Before anyone could reply, Dynaviir had stood out of his chair. He politely waved to both Niniel and Soronume, but hastily walked away. Novardion was following him. He was stopped at the door.

Novardion held Dynaviir's shoulder and looked at him. "May I come, friend? I would enjoy meeting Doeinwei again, very much so. And I think you would appreciate the company."

Dynaviir was looking at the ground, but now he looked up. He was feeling awkward. "No, thankyou. But please, come any time. Just.. not right now. Please. I am sorry. I shall tell Doeinwei you are coming; I am sure she will be glad."

He turned, and without waving goodbye, Dynaviir walked to the door. He pushed it open and stood outside. Novardion hadn't followed.

He stood against the wall of the Inn and sighed. No one was nearby. He closed his eyes tightly. Things had seemed better that morning when he had seen Niniel. He had not been close - in his eyes it was close - to anyone for years, save Doeinwei. He had been lonely, and he was used to lonliness. He wanted to open up.. but he was afraid...

Afraid to be close to anyone, when he knew he could lose them.

He opened his eyes and looked at the sky. The sun shined down on him and he felt warm under it. He gazed at the clouds. Everything seemed so peaceful here. But he couldn't enjoy himself.

He had wanted to attack Soronume when he had first seen him. But why? Was it memories? His dreams? Was his mind reflecting on the past? What that man had done to her.. the woman he dreamed of.. it had changed his own life forever. It was beyond cruel. Some days, Dynaviir wondered if he could ever be close to anyone again. And then, he would always be on his mind. Him. The one, who had dealt the final blow to his torment.

Dynaviir now realised he was covering his eyes; shut tightly. He opened them and felt a tear trickle down his face.

Why was this so hard? Why couldn't things ever be the same again? Why.. why was he so afraid of everyone? Every time he saw a woman, any woman, scared by any man, he was reminded. And he wanted to hurt that man - whoever he was - because he would not accept it. He never wanted anyone to suffer like she had done..

Slowly, Dynaviir wiped his eyes. He stood up straight, and walked to the stables.

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: Dynaviir ]

[Elora]

The warmth of Falowik's lips on her fingers pushed the heavy chill of her memories back a little. Another moment took crystalline shape in her memory and her face softened with relief and something else that shone in her eyes. The thump of two soup bowls meeting with the tabletop shook her from that moment. Too soon, she lamented. She wished it to stretch and enfold them both, but it could not be.

When Falowik asked her tell him of herself, she wondered how to. For surely if she did there would be no further moments such as the two bright gems that glistened within her, already given to her to keep alive this day. Halfred's arrival spared her a moment's time. It would be days before they set out and recruits were needed.

Uien recalled Falowik's lament at the time that had already passed. She had seen how it weighed on him when he had spoken of it to her. If they were to wait, then to good use was that time to be put. Recruits they would find. She watched Halfred walk away from their table and be swallowed by the press of people in the inn's common room. Falowik repeated his request to hear of her.

No, no reprieve then. But then, perhaps she did not need to fear. For Falowik was a man of clear sight and honour. Perhaps he would not see her past as she herself did. Perhaps... Uien broke the crusty bread that Ruby had brought out with the soup as she collected her thoughts.

"In Lothlorien I was born, when it was immortal and golden still. Dusk though sat on its borders and a parting lay heavy in the air of that wood. War was coming and the time of my people was ending."

Uien spoke softly, remembering a childhood both calm and restless.

"Often would I wander in the twilight as a child, beneath the stars and between day and night. That is why I am named as I am." She smiled then, remembering the faces of those who would speak that name. She smiled into Falowik's eyes.

"How you would have loved those woods, where the leaves and light were as golden as your hair Laurëatan. The years did not weigh so heavily and even in those latter years there was much to be glad for."

Uien paused, dipping a small piece of bread into the aromatic soup.

"Go on," Falowik said. Uien looked up at him in surprise and realised he indeed wished to hear. She pressed on.

"Two brothers did I have, older than I for I was born late in Lothlorien. There were no more children after us. Then the War spread through the lands and it changed. My father and brothers fought beneath the eaves of Mirkwood and upon our very borders.

We did overthrow the Enemy, but at great cost. My mother received only one son back when all was done. He could no longer abide for the land was now only a sorrow to him and so he took my mother and I into the West with many of our kindred. Lothlorien became rejoined with the land around it, time flowed freely between the boughs once more and I found it empty when I returned."

Falowik was listening intently, Uien wrapped now in her memories that were darkening by the moment.

"I was not yet ready to forsake Middle-earth. The wide spaces and wild things called me yet, but my place was with my family and so I travelled with them for the Grey Havens."

There Uien faltered and she heard Falowik's voice thrum with warmth through the darkness.

"Forgive me Fair One," he said with grave concern. Uien shook her head and looked up.

"You have done no wrong, Falowik Laurëatan, to forgive." Uien set down her bread in fingers numb. It could not be turned aside from now. She had chosen to tell it and she would not pull away. Perhaps he could know and not turn away himself. Perhaps, for he was a man of honour and so much more.

"There was a terrible storm that fell upon us as we made our way through the pass of the Misty Mountains. We do not go to Moria, not even after the War. I... my feet tarried for I did not want to go and in the storm I lost my way." Falowik had to lean in to hear Uien, for she was murmuring, only a whisper, as the shriek of icy winds filled her hearing and the shards of ice and snow sliced through her.

"When it passed, so too had my family. They were gone. Long I searched the mountains. My fear made me hasty and I wandered into darker places... terrible... foul..." Uien shuddered and fell quiet then. After a long silence, she spoke again, as though from the very depths of the orc den she had fallen into.

"A long time passed before I was able to wander freely again. To Lothlorien I returned to find it empty. South I went then... to Rhûn and then north. I had my wish. I remained in Middle-earth, a great price I paid for it. Now, I wander it."

And until Falowik the price she paid to wander it had been too much. She looked at the man across the table from her and took a deep breath to bring him to her and push the other things away from her. Her fingers tingled where his kiss had fallen.

"And so now you know. Uien is but a foolish maiden who did not wish to go, tarried and was lost." Uien smiled sadly at Falowik, wondering what he made of such an account.

"The mountains," he said quietly, gazing into her eyes. Uien shook her head, long hair swaying with the movement.

"Not here," she said. He nodded and dropped his gaze. She could not know that perhaps he saw something in her that resonated within him. Uien reached this time, her fingers light brushing the back of Falowik's hand where it rested by his ale. He looked sharply up at her touch.

"And you, Falowik, will you speak now of yourself?" Uien's gaze urged him. She needed his voice, that warmth, to fill her. She wished to know how it came to be that Falowik's road had carried him here. A deep desire to know all she could of the man moved within her. She need to know him, and forget herself also.

"Please?"

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath road up the path that lead to the Green dragon. She dismounted and tied her mount fast before removing the saddlebags. Fed up with wondering she stops and looks at the warm light pouring out of the inn, it wouldn't matter ir it were day or night the smoky interior and the fire that was alway in the hearth seemed to seep this light into everything about the palce. She loves this inn with its comfy chairs and warm people she could stay here for many a year, but knowing that here old friends were in other places she tentavly decided to day for a month or so....

Her hair was slightly longer than it had been, and her deep blue grey eyes, that seemed to hold a deep seated sadness found the back of Aman's head as she helped the other patrins about the inn. Annalaliath stood poised at the bar her blond short hair fell across her eyes. Her clothes were stained with travel and torn with wear. Across her back she carried her bow, a quiver ,and her sword. In the saddle bags at her mud caked feet she kept her drawing supplies.

As Annalaliath stood there at the bar waiting to catch the manager's eye, her race could be distinctly seen. She was an Elf. Standing alone at a Hobbit bar waiting to be noticed by Aman. She did nothing but look at the bar and wait, watching others out of the corner of her eye.

[ September 04, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen finished off her cider, new guests coming in and out of the inn. She struggled within herself to push the dark shadows away at least for a awhile, though it became ever harder as the days went on, does something draw near that brings the memories ever sharper and vivid into her mind? Don't become close with anyone it will be your folly!!

Almost all the guest had company of their own, they sat around at a table with many a friend old or new to talk to. Esgallhugwen sat alone although there was Lira whom she had newly met but she was busy with the task that Aman gave her. Surely she would enjoy your help she pondered fingering the empty mug, unsure if Lira preferred to be alone with her own thoughts.

She sat there looking into the mug for brief moments, keeping to herself at the far corner of the bar.

[Arien]

"Yes! That is it! And why is that? Or do I ask too many questions for a man?" The two Elves laughed., and this was followed by a short silence. Tiruviel’s grey eyes twinkled in the sun’s rays that shone through the window, and then they widened. She stared blankly across the bar and she seemed in some deep thought but Nuinyulma quickly took her from it by breaking the silence again.

“No, you do not. It is good to be at least a little curious…” at this remark Tiruviel smiled to herself and Caranel took another sip of ale from his tankard. His discarded soup bowl lay in front of him, as he had long finished with it and the small meal had filled him sufficiently; at least for the night. He excused himself from the table and walked to the bar, bowl and spoon in hand. As he neared the bar Aman turned to him.

“There was no need for you to brig that up, I would have had someone to fetch it for you,” she chuckled taking the bowl from his hands, he sat himself down on a stool at the bar, “ Are they boring you?” she asked jokingly while handing the bowl to Ruby who was behind the bar as well. She turned back to him and busied herself with cleaning glasses.

“No,” he sighed, “they are fine company, but do you often get Elves here often?”

“Often- here you will get allsorts, for it is an Inn…” she said placing the clean glasses under the counter. She back from under the counter and sighed, “ care for another drink?”

“If you would…” he replied, Aman nodded and poured him another drink. He took the ale in thanks and made his way back to the others.

“…..it is. But the rest of this world…….Ah! Caranel, how nice of you to join us again. ” Tiruviel said looking up to his face.

“Indeed, indeed….” He said seating himself down again. He looked up to the door where a new arrival had just entered the Inn.

Another Elf, he had certainly not seen this many since he left Ithilien. But now he was travelling to see Elen in the North again. She resided with her father still and they did not whish to come south but stay in their native home. He pictured her fair face in his mind, true they were on friends but her mind and her skill were things of great beauty and he could not contain himself to wait longer.

Although the meeting of new friends may delay him, he would soon tell them of his reason to leave and soon be on his way. But maybe not just now.

[ September 04, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma looked at Tiruviel. She had been about to say something but has stopped herself. Deciding not to intrude she said nothing and instead looked to Caranel. He was drinking heavily from his newly filled glass and had obviously not noticed. It was up to her to move the conversation on.

"So, my friends. We have talked about our past, we are living in the future. What about our futures? Why don't you go first Caranel? You don't seem to have said much this day."

[ September 04, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[*Arwen*]

Tiruviel looked up at Nuinyulma, and found the elf looking back. It was like Nuinyulma knew was she was thinking.
Tiruviel had noticed that the conversation was dwindling a bit. Caranel had suddenly lapsed into silence as if he had remembered something important and poor Nuinyulma looked desperate to get it going again.

Tiruviel knew that this was the perfect time to suggest something but she didn't want to push anything this early.

"Well... I think I am going to carry on wandering middle earth. There are still many places that I would love to visit. It's a shame that I am all alone though, I wish I had company."

She let that last sentence hang in their thoughts, praying for a response.

"What about you Caranel?"

[Novardaion]

Novardaion turns around. He realises that there is something wrong with Dynaviir and he wants to know.

"I am going to my room, I am in need of think"

He goes up into his room and looks around, his bow and two slender daggers in a corner, his wreath of arrows at the edge of the bed. He sits down and thinks

[Arien]

“Well after hear I think I will carry on to the North, or maybe stop off at Bree before I undertake that journey.” He sighed taking another gulp from his tankard.

“If a may be so bold to ask why?” Questioned Tiruviel from across the table.

“You may be so bold, “ he replied, “I go north to see an old friend, a friend from childhood. I used to hunt with them and scout the land. But alas our duties have separated us over the years and I have not seen them in a long while.”

“And his name?” Asked Nuinyulma.

“His?!” asked Caranel shaken from deep thought of Elen, “Tis not a male! But a female, daughter of a Ranger and my closest friend.”

“Then what may be her name?” Inquired Tiruviel, enchanted by the new story he was unraveling before them.

“Her name is Elelith, but Elen to me. She is fair beyond any mortal I have seeN, and it is not only her looks, but her mind, her skill. Her eyes enchant me and her soft voice is what I long to hear again; I have been away from it toolong.”

“You hold her highly then?” Asked Nuinyulma, he glass of water clasped in her hands.

Caranel nodded in return, “Aye I do, there is a Song that reminds me of her. Now I am no sing but I will gladly recite it to you. If you will let me that is?” The two Elves nodded, so he started:

She chose to walk alone, though others wondered why
Refused to look before her, kept eyes cast upwards towards the sky
She didn't have companions; no need for earthly things
She only wanted freedom from what she felt were puppet strings
She longed to be a bird, so that she might fly away
She pitied every blade of grass, for planted they would stay

She longed to be a flame that brightly danced alone
Felt jealous of the steam that made the air its only home
Some say she wished too hard; some say she wished too long
But we awoke one autumn day to find that she was gone

The trees, they say, stood witness; the sky refused to tell
But someone who had seen it said the story played out well
She spread her arms out wide, breathed in the break of dawn
She just let go of all she held...and then she was gone

“That was beautiful…” whisper Tiruviel.

“It is, she is a free spirit like yourselves, but I dread the day when I find her gone.” There was a silence, Caranel felt some sadness and longing to see Elen. But he would stay longer as rest was needed. “And of you two? What do you look to do?”

[ September 05, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[Imladris]

Lira pondered the past...the doings of her short life. She remembered Esgallhugwen and she smiled, sadly for she could feel the darkness that still clung to the elf maiden. Her hand slipped down to the silver dagger at her side and she fondled it gently. Peering from the cellar, she could see that Esgallhugwen had departed, more than likely to the inn. As the cook's new assistant, she would not be needed until a few hours before dinner.

Rising, Lira left her realm of wine and quickly glided to the Inn. Entering the common room, she sought her...the beautiful Esgallhugwen. Seeing her seated at a corner, she strode towards her, and, leaning on the table, said, "Mellon. You are alone -- again." A smiled curved about her lips. "I am working in the wine cellar. Would you wish to accompany me? We can laugh and be as merry as the elves of Rivendell before the shadow came." The smile faltered, but instantly reassurted itself. She held out her hand.

Esgallhugwen put her hand in Lira's and rose. "Thank you, Mellon. I was wondering if you would care for my company." She flashed a smile and Lira's spirit soared. Long had it been since a smile lit her elven face, since a smile had driven away the shadows of sorrow and darkness.

Together the two elves made their way towards the cellar, Lira laughing merrily, Esgallhugwen smiling serenely. Holding a bottle and putting a label upon it, Lira turned and said, "Tell me, Esgallhugwen, of your early life...before the threat of the Shadow."

[littlemanpoet]

Her voice had been low, edged with despair as she alluded to something she could not speak of -- "...I wandered into darker places... terrible... foul..." Uien shuddered and did not speak - could not speak, Falowik guessed -- then she spoke, in that low voice that could not hold music in it -- of wanderings amid emptiness and loss. "Now, I wander..." So they were alike, she and he. It was not surprising, for this Inn seemed crowded with folk from outside the Shire, wanderers all. And she had lost much, things that he had never owned; and he wondered whether her grief was not harder to bear than his poverty from birth.

Uien spoke of being foolish, of being lost, and her smile did not reach her eyes, which held her grief, and more -- a darkness in the mountains. He did not realize that he had spoken his thought until she shook her head.

"Not here." It was a promise to tell of it later, in some place where they could succor each other out of the way of prying eyes. It seemed well. She had given so much of herself, and now she had revealed to him the place inside her that was most tender and fragile! He hung his head, knowing himself to be unworthy of such trust. He would have to beg forgiveness and leave her before he caused her greater woe! He felt her fingers brush his hand. Her touch was like the finger that plucks the string of a harp, and he sang within, the note sweet. It was she who made him worthy of her trust. Now she asked for him to pay her back in kind. Her eyes pleaded with him for it, and she pleaded in word.

"I - I will gladly take my turn." He picked up his tankard of ale, which had gone untouched till now, and swallowed some of the brew. These tankards were too big, and held more than was right for a Man or Hobbit to drink at a sitting. To drink it all would surely addle his wits! He set the tankard down and turned to Uien.

"I was born into this world alone and raised by the town of Bree. My mother died of my birth, and I know not who fathered me. I was told that he was an evil man not of Bree, who used my mother wrongly. Some say - some said to me - maybe to be cruel but maybe to speak the cruel truth, that he was only half Man, and half Goblin."

Of a sudden, Uien shuddered and hid her hands below the table. It was as Falowik feared; his story told, she'd no longer have aught to do with him. His soup was only half eaten, and getting cold. He had no more stomach for it.

"Maybe I should return to work on the roof and let you get what rest you need."

She looked up suddenly, smiled briefly, and shook her head. "No! Please stay, Laurëatan." Her hand came up and rested on the table near his. "Your words stirred memories, that is all."

"Forgive me for bringing such ill memories to mind."

She made little of his offense and urged him to speak his tale. Falowik told her of a boyhood of begging, of doing chores of all sorts for all manner of town folk, all for the sake of having clothes on his back, food in his stomach, and a place to sleep at night. His favorite had been old Barliman Butterbur, who had not been so old then, the Innkeeper at the Prancing Pony, who made much use of him and always treated him well. But most folk in the town remembered the cause of his birth and held it against him; those that did not look askance and stay away, came near enough to hurl abuse and stones.

No craftsman or artesan would have him for apprentice, so he could not learn a trade. Only Butterbur had mercy, and let him help to fix what needed fixing around the Inn. Falowik had hoped to become one of Barliman's boys around the Inn, when horses started to go missing, and coin, and hammers and hoes. Word got around that Falowik was to blame. Word spread like fire and soon Barliman found it needful to warn Falowik that the Law would come looking for him, and folk thinking of him as they did, it might be best for him to high-tail it. Barliman gave Falowik all he could spare that Falowik could carry, and bid him go.

So he went.

For twelve years he had wandered, ever away from Bree, from the blue mountains in the west, to the misty mountains in the east, ever north of the Great Road. Wandering, fleeing the Law of Bree, living off the land, under the sun and stars, plodding the trackless waste - until he had happened across a satchel and blood marking a stone.

"I wager that my story reaches less high, and less low than yours; not tragic, nor joyful. Dreary and pointless have my days been, until now."

Had anyone looked their way, they would have seen a Man and an Elfmaid, mouths closed, their eyes given only to the other, food and drink forgotten. Ruby or Buttercup, busy with table waiting, had time maybe for a moment of envy, wishing for some Hobbit lad to attend to them in like manner. At last, they spoke to each other, nibbled a little more, drank a last draft, rose, and left the Common room.

They returned to the work on the roof, but said little. They found solace in each other, and words were of no moment until later, when more dire things must be spoken of, out of the hearing of all others. Whether Derufin found their silence worth noting, he did not say. The work went apace, and was soon done. Falowik thanked Derufin for allowing them to labor for their bed and board, and stretching tightened muscles, the two walked slowly away from the Inn, toward the setting sun; the first star glimmered faintly above the horizon in the East as they slipped from view of the Inn.

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath waited for the moment to say anything. She poised herself at the bar watching people her hair falling across her eyes. There were many Elves here, it seemed, she wondered what the occasion was. Bringing her chin up she observed all of them. Then closing here eyes she sighed. Opening them agin she looked around once more and then commenced to stare at the floor, lost in her thoughts.

Thinking she thought of her father, and his falling down the stairs of Lorien. She smiled at this. Then she thought of her unforgiving mother, and how she had left her in the care of the Lady to wonder endlessly looking for her missing father. Bitter thoughts brought a bitter expression to her Elf features. And so the thoughts continued, and fraught with them their emotions, that showed on her face and in her eyes.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma found Tiruviel's lasr remark strange. She had said it quite casually but the brown-haired elf felt something was not alright about it. Perhaps it was because of the stutter or the way she said it but Nuinyulma was certain that something was afoot. However, in the warmth of the inn where people drank merrily, she felt it inappropriate to mention anything.

Caranel's mention of this girl named Elen interested Nuinyulma. It was obvious that Caranel cared deeply for her especially the way he had spoken the song- more than he might admit. And now, now it was her turn to tell of her plans.

"I do not really know. I may take a better look round the Shire or go south once more. Many ask don't I find my journies boring but I don't. I find nature is a good enough companion."

"Oh." Tiruviel looked disheartened. Was it something Nuinyulma had said? She turned to Caranel- this time he'd noticed it and they looked at each other and then at her. However, she'd turned away to ask Ruby for some bread.

As Nuinyulma chewed over the piece of crusty loaf laid before her, she thought about her past and her future. The others seemed to have everything sorted. They knew what had happened and what they were going to do but she didn't. She had left her home with means to stay in Middle-Earth but now she didn't know what to do with herself there. Maybe she could take a ship when the King died-there was sure to be one then. But what would she do in the mean time?

She could not hide away here forever.

[Esgallhugwen]

Before the threat of the Shadow.. 'I can barely remember a time without shadow though I know you mean The Great Shadow, my parents from what I know lived in Greenwood long ago, my father saught freedom and his own kingdom and my mother was with child...' Esgallhugwen finished putting another label on with her fine westron script. 'He gathered what peoples would follow him to create his kingdom, some say now he traveled to close to Mordor, yet the land still held beauty in it though it was close to such desolation and death'.

It is a sad and dreary story Esgallhugwen knew well enough. The child Esgallhugwen's mother was with was her, she had given birth on the road. 'Of course a story cannot be wholly wrought with sorrow there must be some good in it; and there was I remember when I was young the land, though it didn't have nearly enough trees trees still grew and the land was green for a time'. She looked out the small window the sun still bright as it was in summer, Esgallhugwen could remember still the green of that place even if there already was a shadow there when they arrived of course I'm sure that was his plan.

She told Lira how she had been taught to hunt and fight in battle at a very early age and how her father would have none of it but that her mother taught her in sercret with other teachers and warriors. 'I'd like to say he had been kind once but I cannot be certain, it could have been his plan all along to do what he did' Esgallhugwen fell sileny then and continued to label the wines.
'I am truly sorry...'.

[Envinyatar]

After a long day put in, the south side of the roof was finally repaired, the new planking sealed with the resinous mixture he had spread with the mop. Cook had not been pleased when Derufin started out the door with the bucket of resin and her good mop, and had hauled him back in with by his shirttails. A compromise had been reached, and Buttercup had been sent to the cellar to look for one of the old mops.

Now the job was done, and there was naught for him to do until it dried. Tomorrow he would put the shingles in place over it. The bucket of resin was put away. The mop sticky beyond all use was thrown onto the small bonfire pile a fair distance away from the stable along with a few other odds and ends from the stable and Inn that needed burning. ‘No wind tonight, if I have the right of it,’ he thought to himself. ‘Good night for a little blaze.’

Back in the kitchen, washed up and ready for the evening meal, Derufin helped himself to a generous portion of the supper offerings and sat down at the table with a mug of ale to wash it down. The food was tasty enough, but he was preoccupied - chewing and swallowing, unmindful of it. His hand strayed to the letter in his pocket, and when the meal was done he drew it out.

He had barely time to open it in hopes of reading it once more, when Cook sailed over, wiping her hands on her apron. Buttercup and Ruby caught her movement and trailed after her. ‘We saw Halfred today, looking for you to give you a letter, he said.’ Buttercup danced from foot to foot. ‘Come on now! We know who’s written it. Give it up!’ The three sat down at the table with him, looking at him expectantly.

Derufin grinned and shook his head. ‘Nosy-parkers! Bad as my sisters when we were children!’ Cook looked at him, surprised. He rarely if ever spoke of his past, and now here he was telling them he had sisters. She bit her tongue, suppressing the urge to open up a little more about him, and instead filed the information away for later.

‘Oh, please,’ joined in Ruby. ‘We’ll admit to curiosity as one of our downfalls. Just let us know what she’s said. And does it say when she’ll be here?’

‘A bargain, then,’ said Derufin, a calculating look gleamed in his eyes. Without demure, the two young women nodded their heads. ‘Right! Beren’s and my quarters are looking a bit rough.’ They sighed and rolled their eyes. Having brothers of their own they knew where this was heading. ‘Yes, yes!’ they cried almost in unison. ‘We’ll get it cleaned up and the bedding aired and changed.’ ‘But just this once,’ added Ruby, remembering how her brothers had tried to stretch things out.

‘Done!’ Derufin slapped his hand on the table. He smoothed the letter on the table and read it aloud to them:

28 Cermië
Michel Delving

My Friend,

The slow progression of babes and parents and all that entails has found its way to the western bounds of the Shire at last. I feel as if I am caravan master for a group of travelers who want to stop at every town and dip and bump in the road to see the ‘sights’. Perhaps I am too eager to see old friends, and in too much of a hurry knowing the trip from the Inn to Minas Tirith will be even longer.

As you can see, we are now in Michel Delving, and will spend four days here - getting supplies, and enjoying the pleasures of real beds in lieu of camping rough. (Yes, I can say that the pleasures of ‘roughing it’ dim in the face of accommodating two unhappy babies!)

By the time you receive this (I have waylaid a local lad with a fast pony to bring it to Halfred) we should just be heading for Waymeet. It will take us two days to get there.

Now what, you might ask, is the attraction in Waymeet? Our nursemaid is from there. I cannot recall if you met her when we left. Gilly Took, by name. She was recommended by Amaranthas. Her family is there and she wishes to visit them. She has eleven brothers and sisters, so there will be plenty of extra hands to see to the twins! We intend to spend two days there – plenty of good Shire food and the pleasure of good Hobbit company.

‘Can’t hold a candle to Cook’s food!’ blurted out Buttercup. Ruby elbowed her, shushing her, and looked expectantly at Derufin.

One day more of traveling will bring us to the Inn! I am much looking forward to seeing you and all my close friends – Aman, Cook, Buttercup, Ruby. And can someone fetch Amaranthas? The old Dragon will appreciate the ride into town. Though, if I know her right, she will tell you she is capable of getting herself about!

‘I’ll go!’ volunteered Buttercup, speaking up again. ‘We get along well enough. She reminds me of my own Gran.’ She looked apologetically at the other two Hobbits. ‘Go on,’ she urged Derufin. ‘I’ll keep quiet.’

Derufin picked up where he’d left off.

I am also looking forward to riding Falmar once again. I trust that she is doing well and has not gotten fat from inactivity and a certain fondness for oats and apples!

His ears crimsoned as he read this, and the three listeners were discretely silent on the fact that Falmar had been lost. He cleared his throat and read the last paragraph.

This is only a short note. The lad is standing at my elbow, fidgeting. Eager to be off and back and receive his coin for service rendered. Will see you soon!

Affectionately,

Piosenniel

Oh! By the way, I believe I forgot to mention we have someone traveling with us. A good friend I made in Lindon. Zimzirân – or Zimzi, as I call her. You will like her, I think. ~*~ P ~*~

_____________________________

Letter courtesy of Pio

[ September 05, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[piosenniel]

Derufin refolded the paper and put it away once again.

Cook drummed her fingers on the table, and narrowed her eyes at Ruby and Buttercup. ‘We’ve got five days, ladies! Round up the staff after supper’s done. We’ll need to be done in four days – I want no hurry up, last minute preparations going on when they arrive. Ruby – you’ll see to the rooms in the attic. Hire who you need to help you. Buttercup, you fetch Mistress Aman and tell her we know exactly when they’ll arrive. And how many there will be with them. Fetch Beren – I’ll need him to run to the mill for flour, and get some lads to go fishing – we’ll be needing trout and freshwater eels for the day. And strawberries – I’m going to need a several quarts of them. He’ll need to see if Sam and Rose can give us some from the garden.’ She strode into the pantry and took a critical look at all the shelves, making a mental list of all she still needed to get.

Ruby and Buttercup returned to their dishing and serving of suppers. Derufin cleared away his own and went out to the Common Room to enjoy a pipe and a last pint.

‘Now don’t you find it interesting,’ said Ruby to Buttercup as they picked up the plates from the tables and walked back to the kitchen with their stack. ‘What’s that?’ said Buttercup, putting her back to the kitchen door to open it for the both of them. Ruby had stopped, and nodded her chin at the stable-master. ‘Her casual mention at the end of the letter. That friend of hers – Zim something. I wonder if she’s an Elf, too. And why would she say so definitely, “You will like her”, I wonder.’

Cook’s voice called them into the kitchen, and they hastened toward her summons, still whispering about the meanings of this and that.

[piosenniel]

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

Please Note:

Time in the Inn has now advanced to early evening - Suppertime at the Inn.

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

[ September 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Elora]

In the growing Twilight, after an afternoon spent in the ease of Falowik's company, Uien felt herself unwind. Life was easier at this time, moreso now that the Twilight found her not alone as it had for too long. The stars kindled one by one in a way that Uien had long loved, even as an infant. They stood by the rails of the inn's day pasture, she and Falowik. The horses were getting their last mouthfuls of sweet green grass before they were rounded into their stalls. Tails swished contentedly, ears flickering and pleased equine sighs of fulfilment filled the early evening air.

Falowik caught the faint smile upon Uien's face as she glanced at the stars. Her express was open and gone was the sadness and tension of the earlier day.

"Twilight," he said quietly. Uien smiled all the more, looking at him now.

"Yes, between day and night... where anything is possible." She spun lightly and came to a standstill. It had taken some time to get the stain of the afternoon's work from their hands. Resin and sap from newly split wood is stubborn. Falowik's breeches and Uien's skirts were damp from the water they had used at the trough.

In the comfortable silence, something had grown between the two. Perhaps it was a shared past that settled upon them, a shared understanding that they had not had before. That understanding was not complete though. It was raw and unfinished. They both knew it. Uien shied away from it a little longer. Just a little longer when she was strong enough to finish her part.

"What is your favourite part of the day," she asked Falowik. He blinked at her, considering the odd question. Then he slowly smiled.

"Anytime food or good shelter is found," he said. There was a strong undercurrent of truth, but they both laughed because they both could. Uien nodded, understanding how precious such things are to wanderers. She studied Falowik, a question occuring to her that seemed possible to ask in the twilight.

"Do you miss family," she gently asked. She remembered his expression when he had told her of his upbringing. There was pain there, old injuries that lingered.

"How can you miss what you never had," Falowik replied brusquely, looking away at a distant horizon. Uien fell silent a moment, considering a little.

"You deserved better of life than that which was allowed you. A fine artesan you could make... a fine son too. I see no goblin in you, Falowik Laurëatan" Uien said softly. Falowik's jaw bunched and then relaxed and he looked back at her. There was no mockery nor pity there. Only a shared sorrow, for she understood what it was to make your way without family or succour, and a confidence that what she had said was true. For goblins she knew more than her fair share of, and none of it could she discern in the man that stood with her now.

Falowik raised his hand to brush a strand of hair from her shoulder back, as if he had reconsidered what he had been thinking of saying or doing. Behind them, in the day pasture, a horse snorted from the gate. Evidently, accordinging to equine schedule, it was time to find a stall. Sensing how difficult Falowik's thoughts were, Uien changed tack.

"We should certainly find you better lodgings than a tree tonight after all the work you have done on the roof." Falowik nodded, still studying how the fading light fell over her face and hair. Curiously, Uien did nothing further than to make that observation. In the place between day and night, something had to be finished.

"The mountains," Falowik said. Uien's eyes went large yet she nodded. She felt stronger than she had at lunch. He had entrusted her with so much where she had held back.

"Not all evil failed when the Dark Lord fell," Uien said. "Moria remained dark too, and it will take many years for his creatures to be cleansed from Middle-earth." Uien was hedging and well both knew it. She took a deep breath and willed herself to meet Falowik's gaze. That she clung to as she pushed on.

"I was taken in the Mountains...by," Uien paused, the unclean word poisoning her mouth, "orcs." The word dropped like a stone between them. She closed her eyes and then opened them once again.

"I was taken by orcs. They knew we were passing to the Grey Havens. They knew we would not take the road through Moria. They would gather and wait upon Caradhras for us to falter or stray. Sauron was gone but the Elves remained for them to strike at.

Well I knew it!"

Uien leant against the fence rails, washing a hand over her face as if to wash the memory away. Many times she had tried and never had it been of avail. Memories could not be washed away like resin nor sap. Yet she had not spoken of this memory to any, not even those who had freed her.

In the evening, as horses gathered at the gates to be led back to the stables, Uien unfolded a tale stark. She spoke swiftly, leaning all the while on the fence rails. She told of the fetid stench of their dens, their rasping ugly voices as they taunted and chanted. She spoke of their hands, cruel claws, that would rend and tear and of their laughter, shrill and base. A foul warren of evil that survived Sauron for the orc's hatred of the Elves and all living creatures was far older than the Dark Lord's malice.

She told of Dwarves, doughty and fell who descended in wrath upon this small fastness of horror that plauged their realms. Fierce they were, voices loud and booming, and savage as they set to hewing around them, scything through each pit and layer of the den, until they happened upon her.

Uien remembered little of what passed after that. All her strength had been spent on survival. She remembered a long beard that bristled with shock, as a Dwarf cried, "Brothers! Here is something not orcish!" and of hands and faces closing out her senses.

After that, Uien's tale was sketchy. She remembered caves and torchlight flickering on the stone walls. She remembered Dwarven voices in their own tongue around her, and she remembered being asked her name in Westron. She did not know they held little hope of recovery, for the tongue of the Mountain Dwarves is not something an Elf of Lothlorien studied.

"When I was able to make my way, I left the Dwarves in search of my folk. They were kind, in their fashion, but the divide between our kindreds is ancient. I could not remain amongst them."

By the time Uien fell silent, all the stars had kindled. Her head felt light and her skin tingled. Something had been released. She did not know what it was or what would come of it. Uien glanced up at the stars once more and took in a deep breath of evening.

"I well remember the sight of the stars after all that had passed. Never had they been more beautiful. I resolved never to leave them again."

When she then looked back at Falowik she wondered what he saw now that he knew. Something broken, stained beyond repair? Something sullied by the consequences of foolish tarrying upon the road. If it was so, then at least she had this twilight with him.

Chilled by the telling, Uien wrapped her arms around herself and waited to learn of what she had done in setting this finishing free.

[Annalaliath]

Seeing the sun sinking and the sky, tenting pink and then the clouds bleeding red turning to a beautiful purple, through the windows, Annalaliath remembered her horse. Shouldering her saddle bags she strode out of the inn to look for a stable hand.

When all had been taken care of she lingered to watch the death of another beautiful day. Long, yes, but beautiful all the same. She breathed in the shire air that was only stirred by a gentle caressing breeze. She stood poised there in the small yard, her cloak falling about her, a beautiful thing made in Lorien, mud spattered and worn though it was. Her boots,( yes boots she found them more comfortable than the shoes of her kin) were worn and caked with mud.

She looked at a passing Hobbit and felt a twinge of jealousy for him, he was mortal. He could die naturally and leave this world. Annalaliath could not. She hated that. She wanted rest from the wandering and from the pain of her existence, but she could not rightfully just die. She looked at the darkening sky and felt the finiteness of the world closing in on her as all she loved and cherished died and faded away. Like this day, like the winter snows on the first warm days of spring. Like too many young lovers passion does as they grow old and it fades to almost nothing, like the day. But another day will be born tomorrow and life will go on, with out the slightest thought as to the short lived lives of Men and Hobbits.

She shook her head. And went back inside the Dragon to look for the innkeeper.

[ September 07, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[ September 07, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[*Arwen*]

Turiviel sat quietly. It seemed like everyone had their own plans. Nuinyulma didn't need any company and Caranel had his best friend waiting. Oh well!
She looked up and she was surprised. Nuinyulma looked sad, she had a faraway look in her eye and looked worried.

"Nuinyulma...?" Tiruviel started.

"Yes?" The she-elf looked up suddenly.

"Um...do you think...any chance that...um" Tiruviel was stutterring. It was just one question - what is the problem!

This was it, just ask.
She took a deep breath.
"Do you want to be my travelling companion when we leave?"

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma was shocked. She didn't know what to say. SO was Caranel by the looks of it.

"I'm sorry Tiruviel. I'm, I'm not sure really. It all depends on whether I find anything to do here."

She quickly left the table and went over to the bar to sit and think. She was glad no one followed her over. While she sipped the last part of her drink, Nuinyulma realised she was feeling quite hungry and so waylaid Ruby who was busy serving other customers. She left the bar and retreated to a dark corner where she ate her meal deep in thought. Caranel was still there but Tiruviel had gone- to her room Nuinyulma presumed.

After her meal had finished and her plate cleared away. Nuinyulma returned to her favourite past time- watching and listening to people in the inn. All the staff seemed terribly hurried like something was going to happen- not long from now.

As she went up to her room, she heard Cook and Aman talking- it seemed someone named Piosenniel was coming and this was very important. Where had she heard the name before? Ah yes! May Bracegurtle had mentioned her being the last inn-keeper before Aman. She had mentioned a party as well. It must've been that.

When Nuinyulma had reached the top of the stairs to her small attic room she found Ruby in there cleaning.

"Oh! I'm very sorry Mistress Elf but you will have to move a bit further down. An old friend of everyone's is arriving and her and her family are having these rooms. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh course not Ruby. A young hobbit told me about it earlier. Will there be a pary be any chance? I haven't been to one for such a long time."

[ September 06, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[Nurumaiel]

Hamson, after purchasing his dinner, put on his best sweet and friendly face and walked up to the table where Melilot was sitting alone. She scowled up at him, but he stood there, trying to look innocently lost and confused, which might make Melilot feel sorry for him. "Er, Melilot, I rather noticed you were sitting all alone, and I thought you might not object to me sitting with you?"

Melilot pursed her lips and seemed to consider, then with the attitude of a martyr said in a voice of supreme generosity, "Very well, Hamson, you may sit with me." She moved over a few inches to allow him to sit down.

"You have my gratitude," he said, taking the offered space. "I don't know how you were feeling, but sitting all alone over there made me rather lonely. But I don't know anyone here besides you."

"I'm sure if you looked very hard you could see one or two of your friends," she replied with a tone of disdain in her voice. It was plain to see that she considered Hamson's friends to be as low as Hamson himself was. "However, if you are quite positive that you see none of your friends here, you might stay. I still must discuss the business of that hole with you to completion."

Hamson paled a little and paused in his meal. "Oh, please Mel, let's not discuss that now," he begged. "Can't we just have dinner together and forget the whole business of the hole for a few seconds?"

Melilot fell silent for a few moments, then glanced at Hamson and said with a note of triumph in her voice, "It's been five seconds, so can we discuss it now?" She looked at Hamson's stunned and horrified face, then laughed her attractive laugh. "I'm not serious, Hamson," she said. Hamson looked even more stunned at her display of friendliness towards him. She must be in an awfully good mood. Little feelings of guilt ran through him and he uncertainly fingered the pepper in his pocket.

Melilot's eyes narrowed and she fingered her spoon for a little while, as if searching for the appropriate words to tell Hamson something of extreme importance. "By the way, Hamson, my name is Melilot and I hate it being shortened to Mel, so please refrain from that. Would you like me calling you Ham? That would lower you to the status of a pig. Though, now that I think about it, that wouldn't be too bad an idea."

All feelings of guilt left Hamson and his fingers clenched around the object firmly. Already decided what would make Melilot play into his hands, he took a sip of his tea. She glanced at him, then stood up. "I forgot to get something to drink," she said, and began to move away.

"Oh, please, let me!" Hamson said, catching her arm. "I'm nearly finished with my dinner, but you've nearly started." He winked at her. "You'll need to keep up your strength in this hopeless war you intend to have." Melilot looked slightly indignant but agreed to let him get her something. Smiling sweetly at her, he went to the counter, where he proceeded to order a cup of tea. His hand slipped in his pocket when the tea was brought, but not for money alone. After paying for the drink, he withdrew the pepper box from his pocket and opened it, pouring every last bit of it into the tea. Grinning innocently at all nearby who had observed his actions, he stirred it in and then returned to the table.

"Here, Mel...ilot," he said, hastily remembering she didn't like nicknames. He didn't want her calling him a pig again. Without so much of a word of thanks, Melilot took it up, not noticing how Hamson was slowly inching away from the table. One sip was all it took. The best way to describe what Melilot did would be to say she exploded. Whether from the pepper or from anger I don't know, but she had no one to vent her rage on, for Hamson had wisely disappeared to his room.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman had heard Cook as she drummed out her orders, and hastened down the stairs from where she had been leaving back some of the linen into the cupboard. As she went past, she caught the scurrying whispers of Buttercup and Ruby as they hurried past, a few used plates balanced precariously on their hands and arms. She didn't catch much of it through the general quiet, excited chatter but didn't have time to ponder on what she heard anyway - besides, eavesdropping wasn't something she indulged in.

Looking up, she smiled at Cook who beamed at her, but it wasn't just any old beam - it was the beam of Vinca Bunce, organisation extraordinaire, brisk being her middle name. Aman's smile very nearly faltered - she had grown to fear that smile - and wondered for a second if she ducked under the bar Cook might not realise she was really there...

"Ah, Aman." No such luck. Even those two words on their own represented briskness and authority personified. At times like this, it didn't matter that Aman was Innkeeper - Cook over rode everything in her fervour. It worked, of course, but in the meantime....

She renewed her smile. "Cook? I heard Pio sent a letter?"

It always rather disconcerted Cook when Aman said things like that, but the hobbit only faltered for a second. "Indeed she has. And we now know exactly when she's coming." She paused dramatically before continuing, five fingers held up to emphasize it. "We have five days."

It was like a proclamation of doom. Aman's jaw very nearly hit the ground. "Five days?" She squeaked.

For a moment it looked like Cook might agree with the tone of her voice, but instead Vinca simply brushed a hand back, adjusting her solid bun and nodding sharply. "Nothing we can't handle I'm sure. Now, Ruby is in charge of getting those rooms upstairs sorted, you're still sorting the drinks, Beren will be in charge of food supplies," the last word was very clear and there was a very slight pause afterwards - it should never be confused as to who was in charge of the kitchen, and it was certainly not Beren. "And he's running down to the Mill for some flour - or should be, drop him a note to let him know, won't you? Oh, and tell Buttercup to go to Sam and Rosie's - they have some lovely strawberries, really the best in the Shire I would say. Hang on, I'll write you a note, give it to her and tell her to go straight away, but to make sure her hands are clean first, couldn't bear having Sam thinking my staff aren't well turned out. There will be not just Pio and her husband Mithadan and the twins, but also two others who are travelling with them." She stopped for breath, observing Aman, who had forgotten half the comments she had meant to make regarding Cook's busy torrent. Vinca narrowed her eyes slightly...

"Letter for Sam and Rosie?" Aman prompted after a moment.

"-which I will just be writing now," Cook added firmly, nodding to Aman. Turning, she bustled away towards the kitchen where she always kept a pen and pad in case any ideas of recipes came to mind. Aman stared after her for a moment, bemused and almost physically assaulted by her torrent of briskness, then followed helplessly, looking around as she did so for Esgalhugwen and Lira - their help would be needed for sure, and that of several others no doubt. Maybe Uien's friend Falowik...a changed man...

[*Arwen*]

"I'm sorry!"
Tiruviel got up and ran out of the room. When she reached the top of the stairs she stopped, Nuinyulma had retreated to the bar and Caranel was still sipping his drink. She slipped back down the stairs and hid out of sight whilst she watched Nuinyulma go upstairs.

She sighed, me and my big mouth!
She noticed Caranel finish his drink and so went to the bar and ordered two. She then carried the brimming cups back to the table and put one infront of him.
He looked up in shock, he had obviously been deep in thought. He then looked down at the glass and smiled,
"I thought you went!"

"I realised that sulking wasn't the best thing I could do," she smiled, "I haven't had as much fun as I have had in the last couple of hours for a very long time."
She looked up at Caranel who was surveying her with a look of interest.

"Ok, I know I have been an idiot, but I don't know what to do now!" She said, her voice full of worry.
"I didn't mean for Nuinyulma to go away, I just wondered thats all."

Caranel smiled,
"I understand, I know what it is like to be lonely."
Tiruviel sighed with relief, at least she hadn't lost both of her new friends

"But what can I do, Caranel?" she asked, "I just want it to be like it was before I went and ruined everything."
Tiruviel looked down into her ale, she hadn't had any of it yet.

Caranel pushed her ale further towards her and said,
"Just explain to her what you just said to me and say that you are sorry, I guess."
Tiruviel looked into Caranel's eyes. She realised what a good friend she had just made without even realising it, and then she realised what a good friend Nuinyulma had become.

"Oh dear." She sighed, hanging her head low.
Caranel leaned over the table and raised her chin with his index finger.
"Don't be sad, how an I supposed to have fun when you are sad?" Caranel said, his face deadly serious but his eyes dancing with laughter.

Tiruviel grinned.
"I hear there is going to be a party, lets hope that Nuinyulma comes down for it so I can say sorry."
"That's the spirit," laughed Caranel, "Now who wants some more food?"

Tiruviel looked up, she hadn't realised how hungery she still was.
"Me! Me!" She laughed.
"Ok, Be right back."

Tiruviel watched Caranel approach the bar and smiled. She hadn't ruined everything after all.
I hope that Nuinyulma comes back down!

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath found Aman in the kitchen. How she had managed to get into the kitchen she didn't know. Looking from Cook to Aman, Annalaliath smiled.

" Mai Govennen," she said tiling her head in greeting, " I was wondering if you had any rooms, food, and maybe some work." It did not matter if they had any work or not, she had some money tuck away in the saddle bags flung over her right shoulder. But the work would have been a welcome distraction from doing nothing.

[Nurumaiel]

In the shadows of the early evening cast by the walls of the Green Dragon inn, Hamson crouched, watching nervously as Melilot, her face still bright red, ran here and there, apparently looking for him. He had received quite a shock when he went outside for an evening stroll to find she was out there looking for him, unaware that he had gone to his room rather than outside. He knew she wouldn't be able to do anything to him, for he was much stronger and swifter than she, but she might think of something clever to say and win the battle just flung into full force while he, Hamson Cotton, should have been the victor.

He watched her running back and forth in the dim light of the evening. Her black hair bounced up and down on her back and side to side as she searched in vain for him. She was a very beautiful young lass. No wonder so many hobbit lads were falling at her feet. If only she could do something to deserve all the attention she gained. If only her personality could be as striking as her looks. Then maybe some lad with a lot of sense in his head would come along and make her a good husband.

"If I know Melilot Sackville-Baggins, she'll marry the richest and the most air-headed hobbit she can find," Hamson said softly, shaking his head a little. "Then, no doubt, she'll murder him when she finds he's a fool. Melilot's the type of girl who could murder someone with ease." He suddenly felt a little fear as he saw her blue eyes flashing as they looked for him. She certainly was capable of it. Maybe he shouldn't try to fight with her.

"What she needs is someone to straighten her out," he continued, making sure his voice was extremely low. "Her parents are obviously spoiling her. Just because she's a Sackville-Baggins doesn't mean she has to be rotten for life. I think underneath all that Sackville-Baggins is real true Baggins. The Baggins have always been good, and if Melilot could just find someone to get her past her temporary madness, she could be a wonderful young lassie." The more Hamson thought about it, the better the idea seemed. The only problem now was to find someone to do that. He, of course, wasn't going to be the one to straighten her out. She might kill him.

"She needs someone who will tell her what her flaws are straight in her face, but not in a mean way. Then this person will help her get over them, and she'll be a better hobbit all around." Hamson nodded in satisfaction at this thought and smiled. However, his smile soon faded as he realized, by seeing Melilot make a wild rush at him, that he had forgotten to speak quietly. Unsure if she was angry at his words or still sore over her peppered tea and not really caring, he sprang up and made a run for the inn door. Melilot would be hindered by her skirts, or so he thought. Driven by mad fury, she grabbed her skirts and pulled them up to just above her knees and was soon running freely at him.

Gasping the word "help" every other step, Hamson ducked into an unusually dark shadow and disappeared from view. Melilot stood there uncertainly, wondering where to go next. Hamson slipped silently through the shadows along the ground and came to the stables. Opening the door quietly, he crept in and proceeded to close it behind him... only he closed it a little too loudly, and he knew immediately without needing to see that Melilot was after him again. Diving into an empty stall, he buried himself under some hay and hoped she wouldn't find him.

Poor Hamson! How the minutes that seemed like hours dragged on during the time that Melilot peered into every stall carefully. At last she gave it up, and her soft footsteps sounded down the aisle and out of the stable door. Hamson breathed a sigh of relief and scrambled out of the hay the covered him, then went to the stall of the nearest pony. The stable was quite comforting, and he had his own pony at home: a strawberry roan mare. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was a very reliable pony. He would stay in the stables until bedtime.

[Esgallhugwen]

'But let us not think of those dark times!' Esgallhugwen put on a label happily. Her face was silloueted by the deepining ray's of the sun, smiling briefly she spoke 'such darkness I bring with me it should not be allowed in such a peaceful place as the Shire, I will try dearly not to mention such things again'. Esgallhugwen placed a few more bottles in the wine rack (in order of course) and sat on the stone floor again preparing more to be re-stored.

The cellar had a bit of a musty smell but was mingled with the ripe scent of wine, very pungent it had become over the years of wine storage. Esgallhugen remained silent not wanting to bring up anything that might release memories and allow the darkness to encroach once more upon them.

[Novardaion]

Novardaion walks from his room after his rest and purchases his meal. He takes a seat and wonders about what is going on with Dynaviir.

He looks around at the others dining. It is so dark, very unlike his old home.

[littlemanpoet]

I see no goblin in you, Falowik Laurëatan. Orcs. She should know. The story of his own life's poverty paled by comparison to the taleUien had told. This moment, the two of them leaning on the pasture fence beneath the stars, he knew in his heart that he would rather have taken her place and let her be spared. He wanted to hold her close, to comfort her, but he did not have the right. Maybe one day, but such one-ness came with betrothal; they'd known each other a day! She had rendered his unworthiness of no consequence already this day, so he thought no more of it. This woman of the Elder race had chosen to humble herself and lay her heart open to him, a wanderer of a Man. His breath caught with the wonder of it.

Orcs had held her captive. Suddenly his heart went cold. What if the vermin - he could not bring himself to think it. Were it so, he would swear to the stars to learn sword skill and give his life to ridding Middle Earth of every last one of them. Then none could accuse him of such a stained birth! But no, it was not to be for him, but for her. There was no good way to ask, and maybe it was a question that best waited for betrothal - someday, as if it ever could be - but he had to know.

Not yet. First he must reach out to her, somehow, to let her know his heart toward her. He moved closer, and laid his right hand gently on her shoulder.

"Last night, Fair Uien, though it seems ages ago, you laid your hand on me, like so, and did for me a thing I cannot find words to tell. Let my hand do likewise for you, though I know not how it may be so."

Her right hand came up slowly and rested upon his, warm. To his surprise, she leaned against him, resting. Maybe, he thought, such rules of the body were different among the Elves. His heart soared. He could smell the sweetness of her hair. The solidity of her back against his chest fed a hunger deep inside that he had not known existed. He felt that he could stay there, with her, for the rest of his life. His heart was so full with her giving herself to him that his breathing came hard and his eyes blurred.

But there was the question that he must ask, that might ruin this moment, and might determine the course of his life.

"Uien, dear one-" the words flowed out of him, and he was surprised, but glad, for he did not want them back "-I must know one thing. No matter whether your answer is yea or nay, my regard for you, Uien, will not change." His voice had thickened. He wanted to bring his arms around her and hold her close, but he must not, for it would suppose to much. The words were not easy on the tongue. "The orcs-" It was the hardest question he had ever had to ask anyone. "My loved one, Uien-" His muscles tensed as he braced himself for the question, and the answer - or the violent revulsion from him who would ask such a thing. She raised her head to look at his face. "Surely they did not, no, they would not dare, to try to spawn their vermin-?"

Falowik winced the moment the words were released to the air, horrified at having given breath to such a thought; and so he left it incomplete. He was sure she would pull away from him, be eager to be rid of him. He had had no more right to ask such a question than to hold her close. And now he had lost the chance for either. He waited with pent up nerves, his hand tense under hers.

[Beren87]

Strolling wasn't even a word peacefull enough to describe the movement of Beren. His relaxed gait carried him finally out of the Garden, and onto the path to the Inn. Judging by the shortness of the length between the horizon and the sun, he deemed it late in the day indeed, late enough to grab a bite, even.

He meandered up the well beaten path to the door of the cozy Inn, his heart already warming to the expectation of tranquility inside. He could imagine Cook beginning to dish out the evening meal to a group of lounging patrons, the hubbub of the room amounting to speech that could barely wake a newborn babe. A smile crept across his lips as he turned to knob, pushing open the door.

His mouth opened slightly to great the room in cheer when the din of a thousand voices hit him.

"Get help from somewhere, I don't care!" came a shout.

"No no no, this goes here..THAT goes there." voiced an unseen mouth.

Beren gaped at the turmoil he had just set foot in. His eyes dashed back and forth, attempting to find some order in the chaos, some beacon of calm, when they landed on Aman, her form dashing around the room. He strolled up to her, the intention of inquiring as to the chaos on his lips when she looked up to notice him.

"Beren! It's about time you made it in here, I was about to send someone to get you, even if I'm not sure we could spare the hand at the moment." She rapidly spewed the sentence, giving him barely enough time to interpret it before going on. "We've got something of an emergency, you see, Pio is coming to town!" The smile left on her face after the words obviously meant that some glimmer of recognition should be flying through Beren's mind.

"Wait..what? How? no..Who?" He stubled across the questioning words, attempting to discern a complete thought in them. "Wait, right, who's coming to town?"

"Pio! The Innkeeper, she was here before me. Ah, right, you wouldn't know, anyway it's a long story that we don't have time for right now, just take my word for it." She nodded at herself, obviously satisfied in her explanation of events.

Beren gaped at her, the look of general perplexment ever-present on his face. "Right, sure, Pio. Got it."

"Oh! Now for you." Beren's eyebrow raised as she went on. "Cook wants you to run to the Mill." Again a question creeped across Beren's face, but this time she was ready. "Just ask Derufin on your way out, he'll point you in the right direction. I doubt even you could get lost. Get along now, Cook will have both our hides if that flour isn't back before the end of the day."

Beren imagined for a brief second of getting in a word, or pehaps if the heavens favored him, even a sentence in edgewise, but this was no time for such idle dreams. He nodded politely to her, then smiled something a bit more than simply polite. Turning, he dashed off to the door, grabbing his cloak off the rack as he opened it.

[Imladris]

Lira smiled at Esgallhugwen and writing a label and pasting it onto a bottle, she set it upon the shelf with a satisfied sigh. "Your company is pleasurable, Mellon Esgallhugwen." She laughed merrily and took another bottle in her hand. "What you say is true. The land of the Halflings is one of purity nearly untouched by evil and what was touched has now been made clean again." A smile curled about her lips. "And Ithilien is recovering," she said. "The elves have made a home there under Legolas son of Thranduil. It is a fair and pleasant land and, if you go there under the spell of twilight, you will hear the singing of the elves and you will see them dance across the grass in grace." She sighed wistfully, glanced at Esgallhugwen, and said, "But you would know of that, since you yourself are of the Fair Folk."

Esgallhugwen laughed in her turn and they, forsaking the Common Tongue, the two began to converse with each other in Elvish: Lira telling Esgallhugwen of Mirkwood, Lothlorien, and Imladris before the War. Suddenly, Lira held her hand up to silence Esgallhugwen and said, "Listen! There is some disturbance in the Inn." Lira turned and smiled. "But it sounds as if a great bustle were commencing to honor the new innkeeper. I wonder how soon she will arrive. We must have these bottles of merriment labelled by then."

[Elora]

A tremour ran through Uien as she leant against Falowik. His warmth was beneath her head and cheek, and held within her… She reached for him, grasping within the darkness and holding to Falowik. She would drown otherwise.

“I do not…” Uien faltered then, for it was not so. She did remember…

“Their claws… cruel iron… searing pain… Their voices and they were so strong…” Another shiver whispered delicately beneath her skin and she was slient for a long while. Uien drifted, willing forgetfullness to claim her again and unaware that she had spoken at all. Slowly the present reasserted itself upon her senses and with that something far more pleasant and fair. She held to that once more. Falowik’s presence was against her, his hand tense upon her shoulder.

Love… Dear One Yes, he was that and more already! She had searched fruitlessly for her kin, dreading the same question. She knew he had to hear the answer just as she knew her family would if ever she saw them again. Already the bond between her and this fair-haired man was stronger than her dread. In that she found strength to speak where otherwise she would have remained silent.

Her hand tightened around Falowik’s and her eyes closed as she gathered her thoughts into a semblance of recollection.

“I heard them speak in the darkness and laugh… they would taunt, and I knew of the tales….” He had the right of knowing, did Falowik, for there could be nothing for them if he did not… there may be nothing once he had the answer. Uien pushed on.

“They would come to me in the pits and each time it was worse. Yet the Dwarves fell upon them before they could go so far as to… Had the Dwarves come but a day later…” It did not bear thinking about. Slowly Uien turned to Falowik, face tipped up to meet his gaze. Horror was there, she could see it in his eyes and sorrow. Disgust too? He knew now just how far their claws had roamed freely over her. How could anyone could emerge from an orc pit unsullied? The memory of a leering orc over her in the treacherous light of a spitting torch sprang up. He asked for more light, with a savage grin, so he could see what he was about to do. No, noone could come from such things without carrying some of it within them... could they?

Falowik was a Man of clear and true sight. He had to see. Yet he did not pull away.

“Nay, they were not permitted such an evil. For that alone I am ever endebted to Durin’s Folk.”

Uien fell silent once more, studying the Man who made it possible to move beyond the pain of the past. The twilight held them as she reached once more as she had on the night before. If Falowik could stand and not turn aside, then so too could she. The path he showed her could not be turned away from. Already her feet were upon it and she did not wish it otherwise. She gathered his hands in her own gently, eyes not moving from his.

“We each of us have been set to wandering the wide world seeking a path through sorrow and injustice. Here I am found a sanctuary that I had long abandoned hope of reaching.”

She could feel the strength of his clever hands within her own. In that there was nothing to fear. No memory, that was real. The scent of resin, soap and the herbs they had gathered floated around her, replacing remembered unwholesome memories. Her body had healed long ago and she could feel the same unfolding and stretching of her heart now. Would she she could do the same for him.

“Here I fear nothing.” Reverently, Uien lifted Falowik’s hands to her lips and brushed a kiss over each, much as he had done over the table at lunch. Above his head, in the darkening sky, more stars sprang into life for the night. They were fair to behold, but to them Uien’s gaze did not stray. She beheld something far more wondrous than her beloved twilight.

The evening breeze blew a strand of Falowik’s golden hair across his intent, bright eyes. Uien reached up to smooth it away. Never had she felt so alive. Grim as the tale was, so sharply did it reveal the beauty of the man who stood with her.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel was very confused; she didn't want to let Dynaviir go off alone, but she didn't want to leave Soronume after just having found him again. But Dynaviir's leaving reminded her sharply of her own sudden departure from the table a few nights past. But it was nice to just sit and talk with Soronume. But--she cut herself off before she twisted her mind into a headache.

"I-I don't kn-n-now what's wr-r-r-rong with Dynaviir," she stammered, blushing. She didn't want Soronume to think ill of her friend; she had so few and she wanted them all to like each other. She pulled her hair around and tugged on it. It was tempting to put the end of it in her mouth, as she had done when she was a little--when she was a little g.irl? Funny, she didn't remember that before...

Never mind, there were more important things. Like what she was going to do about Dynaviir...and what she was going to do about Soronume. Things were never this complicated when she was on her own!

Finally, she rose, explaining, "I-I think I-I better s-s-see what's wrong. I-I-I shouldn't be t-t-too long." She blushed again, sure that she was making some sort of hideous social mistake, one that would ruin her (nonexistent) chances with Soronume forever. But, her conscience nagged her, what about Dynaviir? So, she went outside just in time to see him disappear into the stables and follow him.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen smiled she knew of the lands that Lira spoke of, the goodness that had come into them again, but she had passed by their borders never wondering to go inside, forsaking the beauty and the goodness thinking she was not worthy of such sights. She nodded her head in rocognition of the commotion upstairs; soon they would probably be needed with their services but until then they would be busy with finishing up the labels.

The silence of the cellar was soothing yet somehow eery as they listened to the bustle upstairs, the sound echoeing faintly among the bottles of wine. The light outside grew more dim, Esgallhugwen arose to light the oil lamps above; careful where she stepped because there were bottles arrayed all over the floor that needed to be organized before they were set on the racks.

Á Elbereth Gilthoniel Esgallhugwen slowly started to hum as the stars came out, glittering like jewels of long ago.

[Annalaliath]

After securing a room and waiting for a reply on work about the Inn Annalaliath took some food and ale to common room. Finding a table to sit at she started to eat.

While she was eating she took out an old tattered book, with all the crumbling pages falling here and there. There were a variety of sketches and drawings, some in charcoal and some in ink. She found a blank leaf and pulled out of her saddle bags her ink bottles and her pens. She started to write down some thoughts on the page. Her long secrets that no one knew. Her loneliness and her wanderings. And her joy to be back in this inn.

She watched the people periodically as she wrote. taking slow bites of the food that sat before her. Still she wrote sketched and watched.

[ September 09, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Beren, looking bemused, smiled politely then more warmly at Aman, before turning to go out the door. For a moment, she hesitated, about to do...something...grab his hand maybe, call him back...

But she didn't, and the time passed as he turned and left. The Innkeeper clicked her fingers angrily, but would talk to him later; there was, regretably, too much to do now. Now, who was it who had offered help...

Spying Annalaliath sitting just finishing her last bite of food as she sketched, Aman began to move towards her, careful not to knock into the four hobbits who, between them, were manoevuring what looked like a bedhead through the crowded Inn (the phrase 'too many cooks' flitted through her mind'), and towards Annalaliath, efficiently deflecting and redirecting the flustered shirelings and Green Dragon customers who thronged the Inn. Reaching her goal, she cleared her throat, causing the elf to look her as she swallowed her last bite.

"Good day, Annalaliath. Now...I believe you offered to help?"

The elf smiled, looking around the Inn, and raised an eyebrow. Aman grinned back. "I know, and on such a quiet night..."

The elf laughed. "What can I do?"

***

After directing Annalaliath upstairs to see Buttercup and help with upstairs (Aman was beginning to feel really sorry for the hobbit waitress!), Aman turned again to survey the Inn. Then the sound of a loud voice reached her ears, from the stable area and, annoyed but worried, bearing in mind the last episode with such a raucous in the stables, Aman dashed out quickly, skirts pulled upo slightly, out towards the stables. She was met by a furious looking hobbit who nearly ran into her. She was a pretty little thing, dark hair bobbing above her shoulders and framing a face which was, while pretty, not the face of someone weak minded. Her beauty would probably have been greater...had she not been nearly spitting with rage.

"Oh, I am sorry -" Aman started, but as the girl bustled past she stopped indignantly. She hadn't even acknoledged it. Still, duty ever called. "Can I help you, miss?"

The hobbit didn't reply, simply cast a filthy look back at the Innkeeper before continuing away at a cracking pace. She was muttering something darkly under her breath. Something which sounded dangerously like a repeated 'I'm gonna kill him, I am going to kill him...'

Her brow creasing in annoyance at the rudeness of the hobbit girl and mild worry for 'him' whoever he was, Aman turned at a noise from within the stable. Like a horse shifting, or maybe a soft snort, or...well, it sounded silly, but it was like a sigh. Sighing herself, Aman turned to look into the stables, picking up the lantern from where it hung on a hook by the door.

"Hello?" She called boldly into the semi-light. "Hello?"

No answer, but the sound of someone being very, very quiet, a sound of its own sometimes. Aman was about to try again when an idea struck her and she lowered her voice. "The hobbit girl has gone."

There it was again, that sort-of-sigh. Aman spun around to one of the stalls where she reckoned it had come from and held the lantern in front of it, fighting to urge to cry 'ah-HA!'. But what she was confronted with was not a horse-theif or pickpocket, or errant little boy even...but a messy haired by still rather striking hobbit. Hamson.

[littlemanpoet]

Uien's lips were soft on his hands. She was more than Light and lodestone this night. She had become in so short a time the one being in all Middle Earth that he cared for more than himself. She was life and goodness.

"I would have sworn an oath to avenge you on the entire race had it been so, Uien. I'll not bind myself, but I will learn sword skill so I can do my part should the need arise." He looked into her eyes, which revealed a heart at peace and given to him, undeserving though he was. "Falowik's face darkened, for he had more to tell, and the tale was to his shame. She was his life and his goodness, a treasure of such great value that she must know the worst.

"I'll not-" He looked away. He must tell Uien, who believed him honourable and a man of his word. He would have to tell her the truth, all of it, and then she would know the kind of man he really was. All he had done since the night he had found - no, not found but retrieved - the satchel of the man of Rohan, was to make amends for not doing more when he could have.

"I'll-" He was still looking along the line of the fence back toward the stable, a shadow under the stars. With a will he looked into Uien's eyes, shining with the starlight. "I'll hide no more, for that was my wrongdoing five or so nights ago in the wilderness." Uien watched his eyes, searching, he thought. In hers the Light burned brighter than ever.

"I saw him held captive and questioned by armed men, nearly a dozen of them. Grim and fell they were. One, biggest and most fell, did not like the lack of answers from the man of Rohan - from Eodwine-" Falowik needed to use the man's name as part of owning his wrongdoing; he owed him that much at least "-nor when answers came, did he like those given. The blood on the rock came from many blows to the head, for Eodwine was propped against it, his hands tied behind his back.

"He was a brave one! They did not break him, though they broke a leg and an arm. Finally, they heaved him face down over the side of an extra mount. It was as they road off that, on a chance, he looked up, and our eyes met. His eyes widened and grew fierce with their call to me to do what I could for his aid.

"But until then I had had no cause but my own survival, and it still came first in my mind. Always I strove to avoid the troubles that other people bring. I could have tracked them. It would have been a simple matter; and maybe I could have found their lair, and made sure Eodwine was alive, and perhaps - perhaps rescued him. But no. Though it was up to me, I did what I thought would be the least troublesome thing, and made my way to the nearest settlement to report my find and be done; or so I thought.

"Little did I reckon with the meddlesomeness of Hobbits! They wanted the story fresh with every new pair of ears. Question after question was asked, and counsel was taken, and I was sent on until I found myself before the Mayor of these folk. He seemed a slow witted fellow, but on his own turf sharp as a roofing tack! And clever with reading what lay unspoken between words used. So he sent me on, and I came here.

"That is my tale. I am not the man of honour that you deem, nor the man of his word, except in one thing: I will not be any man's debtor; I will not be so troubled. That is what you saw of me at first and called honour. I wish it were so.

"This is the tale that I will tell from now on, the one you just heard. It will bring me shame, but well deserved. You have shown me what it is to be a man of honour and one of his word, and I would be that man so that I can become what you hold dear."

Many, many words had fallen from his lips. Falowik had never said so much at once before in his life, but it had been needful. He watched her now, waiting for the enchantment to break, for her to take a deep breath, for her face to close to him, her eyes to go half closed, her back to straighten, her hands to pull away from his, for a smile that went not to the eyes and a 'fare thee well', and all at an end. He could live with that pain, for he had something new to live for, to make what she had believed to be so. Her face betrayed nothing except that she pondered his words.

[Nurumaiel]

Hamson blushed a deep red as he stared at the woman who held her lantern up, the full force of its light in his face. He hadn't counted on being discovered in his hiding place by anyone other than Melilot; indeed, he had not counted on even Melilot finding him. What was worse, he recognized the woman. She was the innkeeper, and no doubt very angry that he had taken the liberty to hide in the stable.

"Oh, ma'am!" he cried, jumping up and attempting to give a bow (something he was not accustomed to, and it came off quite clumsily). "I do apologize for hiding the stable, but I had to get away from Melilot... I believe you've seen her, since you know it's from a hobbit lassie I'm hiding?"

"Yes," was the reply of the innkeeper. "She looked quite upset with you."

"Well, she is," said Hamson, his cool coming back. Brushing some stray pieces of straw from his clothes, he leaned casually against the side of the stall and an expression that could almost be defined as a smirk came to his face. "She is very upset with me. Sometimes she feels like killing me, I'm sure."

"I heard as much."

Hamson was not surprised. Melilot grumbled, but she grumbled so loud that it would sound like she was making a speech. "I'll tell you about it if you like. But first I must introduce myself. I'm Hamson Cotton."

"And you may refer to me as Aman," the innkeeper answered, extending her hand. Hamson took it, uncertain what to do with it, then he bowed clumsily again, blushing immediately after when he realized his new acquaintance?s intention had been a handshake. However, he somewhat kept his composure and exited the stall, pulling a long bit of hay from his hair as he did so.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll tell you about it, but only on one condition..."

"Which is?"

"That you don't stop my battle plans against Mel..ilot. I mean, putting pepper in her tea and everything. If I'm kept from that, she will never be off my heels."

Aman smiled at him. "Providing that you aren't too rough on her," she assented. "She seems a strong, stubborn girl, from what I've seen of her, but everyone has their limit. And as long as you narrow it down to occasional pranks. No killing, for example."

Hamson's eyes widened in innocent horror. "Killing?" he gasped. "She may want to kill me sometimes, but I would never do such a thing to anyone, especially if she's a pretty young lass who, unfortunately, is a relative of mine. No, the very worst I could do, ma'am, would be to call for Shiriffs and have them lock her up for a few years, but that, of course, would not work, for as soon as she saw them she would put on her most innocent expression and they would go away after scolding me soundly.

"But I do marvel that you will let me continue to battle with her. Most people (my parents, namely) would consider it highly ungentle-hobbit like and tell me to stop right away. Why do you let me keep on with the battle?"

"Well, I see no harm in the pranks you pull on her. I've seen brothers and sisters play worse pranks on each other, and I wouldn't deny you and your rival the pleasure of being young. I also see that it is the only way you can make her think a little, now that I reflect on it. Besides, I think the girl rather enjoys it."

Hamson had been gradually growing colder and was now shivering visibly. "Thank you, ma'am, and I'll try to resist from calling in the Shiriffs," he chatted. "But, ma'am, might I go inside now? It's rather cold out here for me, though it might be very warm for the horses, and I'm longing for a cup of tea and a flickering fire to sit by." A new thought came to him and he attempted to laugh between the chatters of his teeth. "Anyway, I think I should try to calm Melilot down before she burns down the inn trying to get at me."

[Doran Deroder]

The door of the Inn slowly swung open,dark nothingness from the outside gleaming through the threshold.A towering figure in a cloak,hood blackening his facial features,stepped in and walked to Aman.His voice low,gruff.

"A room for the night."

This was all he said.He never had spoke much,not since his mother and father's horrific death.They had been captured by an orc raid...Tortured until driven to insanity...He narrowly escaped just as they were forced to there limits.He turned for a moment to see his father's head rolling to him.His father's eyes were white and he could here is deep voice bomming in his ears.

"It's going to be ok son...It's going to be alright...Just hold my hand...

He looked down at the floor.Despair was filling his stomach like a balck,smothering smoke that squeezed and yanked at his insides,wrenched at his heartstrings,destroyed his soul.He looked up again,nodded to Aman,took his room key and leaned against the wall,gulping down some brandy from his flask.He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.He stared,head hung slightly,at the other occupants of the Inn.He was wandering from his home in Gondor over all of Middle-earth.He always said that life was short,his own life still holding many more adventure as he was youthful,just becoming thirty years young.

He sat in a seat,not wanting to go to bed just yet even after a long journey.He stopped Ruby and oredered a nice hearty steak for dinner.He was social at times but when reminiscing of his past of death and sorrow he remained quiet.

[ September 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elora]

Ah, so therein lies his doubt. Uien was silent as she allowed Falowik to speak, her own thoughts running swiftly in many directions. She watched him struggle with the words and then bow his head as if he expected judgement of some sort. Judgement, from she! Uien began to shake her head slowly and her grip on his hands became stronger. He stared unhappily at where they hung between them in the night.

Of a sudden, Uien released his hands and Falowik glanced sharply at her again. She siezed that moment without hesitation.

"Yes, it could be said that you should have charged in.... by brash fools with more thought for high tales of derring do than the reality of strife between Men."

There was a note of some fire in her voice. She'd heard such debates during the War, listening to the warriors debate long into the nights before they set out to battle. She had not understood those who counselled for them to rush in immediately, and here she found herself struggling with that again.

"Many men, Laurëatan, and you without sword or weapon aside from your wits... You could have fallen upon them, or attempted an escape, but methinks those courses would have been of little avail for Eodwine.

For grim and fell men are not easily thrown aside by one man. Had you fallen in such an attempt, then who now would bring tidings of Eodwine's fate to those who may be able to aid him?"

Uien paused, for the idea of Falowik falling gravely injured or dead was a cold and unwelcome one that chilled her.

"Eodwine is fortunate that the Man who witnessed his attack had the wits to bring news so as to gather a party able to assist him... and the honour to speak of what happened knowing that some less clever would see only what brash false glory they would like to think of how they would acquit themselves.

Soon enough they will know, those rash fools, for we will find Eodwine and they will have their chance to prove their merit against their hasty words."

Uien quietened as Falowik followed her reply. He watched her closely, looking for some hint of disappointment or withdrawal from her. It did not come. A little doubt remained still in his handsome features. Uien leant towards him.

"Far better that you carry word so that something can be done, then fall alone in the wilds - two needless deaths that could have been averted."

Uien's voice carried a ring of certainty. Her brow furrowed a little as another thought chimed within her.

"Must there always be the sword? Would that you did not need to pick one up. Swords bring only pain and death."

Uien looked down at her own hands. They were the hands of a healer, a carver. She remembered then the clever hands of her father and brothers and how her mother's hands had shook so slightly when the news reached her of the men she loved so.

"What then would you have me pick up?" Falowik's voice thrummed through her. Uien smiled quietly at her hands and then up at the man who shared the stars with her, and her heart.

"Only that which would bring you joy, Falowik. Man of honour, clever and true, such things would I have you hold, love."

Never would she wish to see him cleave about with a weapon, for her. She saw the scars such things left once the battle was gone, wounds of the mind and soul. No, never for her. A resolution formed within her as she stood, gazing at Falowik with her gentle smile playing on her lips.

She would never give him cause to pick up a sword and, further, she would bring such joy that he had better things to set his hand to in this life. Uien spoke nothing of this, yet it shone within her face. Falowik, who had expected her to turn away, was instead studying her as she turned towards him, feet unshaken from their path. Far from diminished, he only stood the taller and fairer than before.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma looked at the man who'd just entered. He was wearing a long thick cloak even though it was summer and still quite warm outside. He seemed distant as if he was thinking about other things or trying not to think about them. It was strange- everyone in the inn had a story to tell as if some unknown force that drew people to it.

She laughed to herself- that was very unlikely. The man had now sat down by himself in the corner of the room. She wanted to go and speak to him but felt she needed a reason. She frowned and began to think. Eventually an idea came to her and see stepped lightly across the room.

"Excuse me, but by any chance do you have a knife?"

He looked up and nodded and then handed over a small knife and went back to eating his steak. She sat down and began whittling some sticks she had brought in.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh-trying to make some makeshift arrows- just in case. Why?"

"No reason. Expected someone like you to have a knife."

"Its upstairs in my room." She noticed his glass was empty and signalled to Ruby for a refill who promptly brought one over. Te man nodded in thanks and silently finished his meal.

"Its Nuinyulma by the way."

"Oh right." He sat lost in thought and she could read sadness in his eyes. He seemed to have no problem with her sitting there so she carried on with her whittling while the inn grew busy with the evening crowd. However, no one seemed to notice the man and the elf-maiden sitting in a dark corner of the room and not saying anything- just lost in there thoughts.

[ September 10, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[Doran Deroder]

He was soon finished with steak and he sat there,staring from under his hood at the maiden.Elves had always fascinated him.He could speak very much elvish,as his mother was an elf.He lowered his hood to show a ruddy face,deep black tangles falling over his shoulders,stubble blending perfectly with his worn face.His ears were slightly pointed upward and his deathy eyes were dark as though they were dank tunnels.

"A lovely elven maiden...I am Doran Deroder,ranger of Gondor."

He bowed his head because of the table in front of him.He watched the crowd grow larger with the fall of night,darkness now spanning the sky as if it was a shadow of an enourmous hand covering all.He remained silent for a few more more minutes,diverting his attention from the elf's whittling to the other occupants of the Green Dragon.They were all chatting merrily,finishing meals and patting their bulging stomachs.He hadn't laughed or smiled in so long that he thought if he tried he look and sound like a madman.

An inaudible sigh escaped his lips and he began to start on his new drink.It tasted stale,everything seemed to be that way but he was used to it.He just needed something in his dry mouth.He kept on drinking until he darted his eyes to Nuinyulma and kept them there.His eyes were intent as he scanned her.He tried to keep evry feature of her in his mind.He wasn't keen on making friends but she could be an allie in the future.

The elf maiden ordered a drink for herself and was about to order another for him but he put his hand on hers and slowly lowered it.He gave her a look saying I shouldn't drink too much.She continued whittling and attempted to start a conversation.

"Why are you in the Shire?"

He took his eyes away from her,paused for a moment and stared out an open window as he spoke.

"I'm travelling all over Middle-earth.When your born in the race of men life is short."

He continued star gazing.He found about eight or nine constellations until he was satisfied and directed his attention to the floor.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik closed his eyes, soaking in her words. Only that which would bring you joy, Falowik. Man of honour, clever and true, such things would I have you hold, love. He opened his eyes again and looked deep into hers, shining with her wholehearted smile. She had made her choice, and he was astounded by it. She chose to call wise the deed he had done, and foolish what he might have done, overlooking the cold heart that had cared little if at all for the captured man. She had seen that cold heart last night, and had warmed it by her touch and word. He smiled.

"You bring me joy, fair Uien." There was a twinkle in his eye and his smile grew wider. He set his hands on her waist and lifted her into the air. Her hands came down on his shoulders and her eyes came alight. She spoke his name once in surprise. He turned a circle with deft feet, watching her eyes and flying hair as the stars twirled above her, and set her down safely on two feet.

"I shall seek other ways to lift you high!" He offered her his hand. "Shall we make a circuit of the fence?"

She took his hand. "Are you not hungry?"

"Who needs food? I'm full!"

They walked hand in hand with quick steps, away from the Inn. Falowik's voice could be heard as their forms grew small. "I know! I'll lift my voice in song! I'll make verse of fair Uien-" There were more words from the Man, and happy words tripped from the lips of the Elf maiden as they marked the outer course of the horses' pasture. Were there any onlookers, they would have lost count of the number of times they traipsed around the fence. Little difference it made to them; they had the stars, the ground beneath their feet, and each other. Much later they made their way to the Inn to find the Innkeeper and arrange sleeping quarters for Falowik.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma continued to gaze back at the ranger. She wasn't aware they had them in Gondor but so it appeared. She asked him why he wasn't rangering in his home land but he declined an answer by instead sipping his drink (though flinching at the same time as he he didn't like it) and turning the questions to her.

"So Nuinyulma," he spoke softly, rolling the words off his tongue with ease, "where are you from. There are not many elven maidens in this part of Middle Earth."

She told him of her journey from Lorien and of her wanderings. She also told him of her non-existent future plans and then realised she was rambling and stopped talking. Meanwhile Doran just continued staring at the floor.

"Are you well Mr Deroder?" He didn't look up but just continued staring at the floor. "Well, I'll be off then."

He suddenly jerked his head up and Nuinyulma saw his face properly for the first time. "No. Don't go."

[Doran Deroder]

He didn't know what he was saying.The beauty of the Elf had made him say it.He rose and stood by her.He sighed and began to speak.

"Come with me...We're both just wandering aimlessly,no point in life,wanting to see Middle-Earth at it's fullest."

He said this all quietly for some reason.He guessed it was his lack of speak all those long,torturing years.Years of bleak silence.He hadn't ever had a friend.Maybe one or two but everyone he knew died sooner or later.

He wanted to travel and he thought she would the perfect companion.He knew nothing of her yet her name drifted through his mind as well as her stunning apperance.

"If you want to go with me..."

He slwoly lowered his hood and went back to his normal somber antics and remained still,awaiting an answer.

[Elora]

Uien entered the inn with a face alight, followed by Falowik. Ruby, who was darting past with a tray full of tankwards looked twice at the pair and then found her own speculative smile as she continued on her way.

"Perhaps Aman can help us," Uien said as they scanned the room for the innkeeper.

"Aman's not here. She's outside... just like Beren." Ruby's high Hobbit voice reached their hearing. Her tray was empty now, but her smile remained as she studied Uien and then Falowik in turn. Uien could feel her cheeks colouring slightly and caught Falowik's hand as he looked on.

"Can I help you," Ruby sweetly inquired, batting her lashes.

"Can you allocate lodgings for those who contribute at the inn," Uien returned promptly. Ruby shook her head, looking at Falowik anew.

"You helped shingle the roof," she exclaimed in recognition. "You will need to speak with Aman, but I'm sure we can find something." At that moment a shout for more ale went up at a table. Ruby hoisted her tray and sped towards with a turn of speed that is suprising unless one is familiar with the fleet footed Perian of the Shire.

Espying a table not yet claimed, Falowik suggested they recify that whilst they waited. They traced a way through the press to reach it by the hearthplace and find a seat. Falowik was glancing around the busy commonroom when Ruby again popped up.

"Cider or ale this time? Oh, and the Shiriff is over in that far corner too, if you're thinking about tossing more bread." Falowik requested a malty ale and Uien once more opted for watered wine. Her head was light enough as it was in Falowik's presence. Ruby left to see to it as Uien looked over at the man who had done this to her over such a short period of time.

She could still recall his hands upon her waist as he spun her about, his face as he looked up at her, his voice in the gathering night.

"It seems to be very busy tonight," Falowik observed of the inn as he looked about. Uien stirred from her spiralling thoughts.

"If all else fails, you can take my lodgings in the loft and I will find something with the Ruby or Buttercup." Falowik glanced back at the Elf and saw her expression then. His smile in return was all it took for the buzz of the crowd to fall away and the lightness that was him to rise within her once more.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik took a sip of malty ale, licked his lips, and turned to Uien.

"A light has come out of the night
and given warmth where all was cold;
fair Uien-" He looked up at the beamed ceiling, grinning, and looked into her eyes.
"-fair Uien's beauty fills my sight,
her heart more true than can be told.

"I need practice," Falowik grinned.

"You made it just now!"

"No, I've been working it out the whole time we walked around the pasture fence. Rhyming's a hard task!"

She sipped her watered wine and laid her hand upon his arm. What she felt was in her eyes. Falowik place his hand over hers. He could not keep the happiness from filling his cheeks with a smile. He looked around the common room, steadied by the solidity of her hand.

"See that hooded man over yonder? The tall one?" Falowik nodded. "Sitting with the whittling Elf maiden? They are new here; wanderers, think you?" Uien nodded, glancing at the two Falowik mentioned, though her eyes spent far more time watching him. "Maybe we would do well to learn of them and see if they might have a mind to go hunting in the Hills of Evendim?"

"That seems well, Laurëatan."

"In a little while, then. I'd stay here with just you and me for a while yet."

The front door opened with more force than usual, and in strode a Hobbit who looked as grim and purposeful as any that Falowik had seen. The Hobbit stopped Ruby.

"I'm looking for Falowik the Wanderer. Is he here?"

"Yes, Master..." she left the question hanging between them.

"Brandybuck. Doderic Brandybuck to you. The Master of Buckland has sent me. Is the Man here?"

Ruby pointed toward Falowik and Uien. "Would you have a drink, Master Brandybuck?"

"Thanks, but I've no time, more's the pity." Doderic Brandybuck covered the small distance from the middle of the room to their table.

"Are you Falowik?" The Hobbit was direct and business like, at least.

"Yes, I am."

"The Master of Buckland has sent for you. He asks that you come with me at once."

"What would he with me?" Falowik asked.

"You know of the Man of Rohan, Master Eodwine, a servant of the Master's good friend, the King of Rohan. He wants the news straight from you, he bade me tell you, for he intends to set about Master Eodwine's rescue more quickly than the locals are likely to." Doderic gave a measuring glance over Falco Boffin's way, who was busy with an ale and studiously ignoring their table. He turned back to Falowik. "Can you come, now?"

"But-" Uien started. Falowik rose, his ale less than half finished. Her hand slipped from his arm.

"I can come." Falowik turned to Uien. "I must do this, fair one!" He would not speak so freely before the Hobbit as he had under the stars. He hoped that his eyes said all he needed. If I am all that you believe me to be, then I must do this.

"Have you a pony or horse?" Doderic asked.

"Nay, I do not. I do not ride."

"You must now, for the Master would speak with you yet this night. I'll have a word with the Innkeeper or stablemaster and return in a moment." With that, Doderic moved away from them to accost the nearest of the Inn's crew.

Falowik sat back down and turned to Uien again, sure that she would have something to say about this turn of events.

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath, having gone upstairs as she had been directed, found that she was to help Buttercup prepare for a visit from the previous innkeeper. Anna really didn't remember this woman nor her husband, but the fun was that they were coming.

She said little as she worked, doing as she was directed by Buttercup. A funny sight if seen, a Hobbit seemingly giving orders and direction to and Elf.

Annalaliath had removed her filthy cloak and deposited it along with her things in her room before coming to this one. She had also changed from her mud caked boots to a pair of soft leather shoes. Her cloths were defiantly Elvin in their elegance but as sturdy as any Hobbits garments. They were worn with age and repaired many times over, but remarkably beautiful all the same. She desperately needed new ones. As soon as she could she would go to the market and find some fabric and notions.

She worked well into the night with Buttercup and when all the room was finished she slipped off to bed. She dreamed of the time when all things were beautiful and she was happy. When her father was alive and no hint of her mother. The dreams were welcome compared to the nightmares that haunted her as of late. Annalaliath slept.

[ September 12, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma suddenly felt a shiver run down her spine. The almost pleading look Doran had given her was frightening- it reminded her of her mother when she was asked to leave for the Grey Havens. She hadn't mentioned that to anyone who had yet asked her although now felt a willingness to do so. How could she turn yet another hopeful person down? Tiruviel had been hopeful but not this-was desperate the right word?

However, she felt a warmth between her and the man and so almost whispering, gave her answer, "I do not know where we will go but you have my word I will come with you."

Doran looked up. He did not speak but instead nodded and smiled and started rummaging in his cloak. After a moment or two he brought out a small jewel on a silver chain.

"Here take this. It will remind you of the promise you just made."

She smiled and took the necklace- it sparkled in the glittering fire of the evening.

[Doran Deroder]

His smile grew even wider as she accepted.This was his first smile,his first true,sincere smile in so long.He knew that he had no chance to be with her as she would have to give up her immortality to be with him.He then remembered where he had received the necklace and his smile faded.

"My mother gave it to me...She told me to promise her that I wouldn't come back and save her after I escaped from the orc raid that killed my parents..."

At this moment you'd expect him to cry,but he was so used to it that no tears came upon his withered face.He sighed and smiled weakly.He thought for a moment and decided.

"I think I can have another drink."

[ September 12, 2003: Message edited by: Doran Deroder ]

[Elora]

Uien shot a glance to Falco Boffin, who seemed fascinated with the table his ale tankard sat upon still. Falowik had sat again and Uien turned to him with earnest face.

"I would not stand in your way, Falowik. Only this I will say. If Eodwine is injured then he will have need of a healer. My offer remains as it was earlier this day. Perhaps the Master of Buckland may find it as useful as the Shiriff did."

Falowik examined her closely, glancing back to where Doderic stood making arrangements for horses.

"I would not have you caught in this trouble," he murmured to her.

"Would you have me stand idle when a Man lies gravely injured, love?" Falowik sighed unhappily and looked back to Uien. A steadfast determination was luminous in her face. He shook his head, although to what Uien could not say. He leant towards her to speak quietly.

"And who might this be, so closely involved in these affairs," Doderic's voice intruded. Uien looked up to see that he was not well pleased.

"Uien," she said simply.

"Simply that," he pushed further. Elves went about with more than a singular name.

"Is that not enough Master Doderic," Uien countered. She relented as she saw his ire rise. "I am Uien of Lothlorien, once, but now I am Uien of the Green Dragon, healer."

Doderic, having Uien's identity in hand, got back to his chief business. "Seems we need to speak with the Stablemaster, one Derufin, to get a horse," he muttered unhappily. The delay was pressing on him.

"Perhaps I can assist you then. I am Derufin's assistant." Doderic looked at Uien with renewed interest, Falowik reluctant now. Uien stood and glanced to Falowik.

"A Man's life could hang in the balance, if I am not mistaken," she said further. Falowik rose from his seat.

"Indeed, Uien of Lothlorien. Lead on," Doderic replied urgently with a familiarity that Uien found remarkable given his earlier prickly nature. Falowik frowned with his misgivings but moved off with them as they set off in search of Derufin and horses. Uien glanced more than once to Falowik as they crossed the yard. Hope was in her eyes that he understood. If time was of the essence, and weighed upon his heart as she had seen it beneath the stars, then she would do all she could to aid him and this Eodwine, if only to set Falowik's heart free of regret.

"Interesting indeed that an Elf of Lothlorien, healer, lingers at an inn as a Stablehand," Doderic observed.

"And fortunate for your Master of Buckland, mayhap," Uien replied simply as they reached the stables.

[elf-girl-63]

A tear rolled down Nuinyulma's cheek. Why was she crying? And in front of a man she hardly knew as well!

"I can not take his Doran. Not know that I know of its past, its previous owner."

"NO. You must have it- I have kept it long enough and anyway you will suit it much better." They both laughed ordered some more drinks and some supper for Nuinyulma. A small steak with plenty of gravy soon arrived and the elf began to tuck in.

"So, a ranger in Gondor. That is an unusual occupation. I did not know such people exist."

"They did. But know, there is not much need for them. The Shadow is past, King Elessar is on the throne and all is well. Many of us wander the lands- helping those we see need assistance." He sighed and drank his ale and Nuinyulma finished her meal. She took her plate over to the bar.

Ruby was serving drinks and spoke to her Nuinyulma. "Who's he? Aman said he was a bit strange-even for round her."

"A ranger of Gondor. His name is is Doran. Be not quick to judge dear Ruby- we all have our faults and hurts."

[Doran Deroder]

He continued to drink as Nuinyulma talked to Ruby.He caught a few words of what they were saying.He frowned and continued drinking.He watched how the necklace upon her face.He smiled slightly and finished his ale.

He sighed,remembering again.Why him?Why...?He supposed it was just his destiny.

[Lumiel]

With a creak and a swing, the door of the inn opened and in stepped a small, slight figure. A first impression would give one the idea of a young woman near or just begun adulthood. A long, dark grey cloak swished softly around her body as she turned to close the door behind her.

She stood about 5'6" tall and wore a dark grey tunic and pants beneath the cloak with a dark brown belt bound about her waist, a sword hanging at her left side in a dark leather-bound sheath. Her small pale hands looked gentle and fragile as they eased the door back into the doorway, and only from her nose and below was visible due to the shadow of the cowl. Several large locks of hair fell forward from her hood and they were dark brown with somewhat subdued fiery golden flecks appearing as the lesser light within the inn shone on them. She turned on knee-high dark brown boots and stepped lightly to a table and sat, looking as if she were uncomfortable as her lips pressed together slightly.

She put her small hands on the table and put them softly together as she looked about the Inn, taking in all that she saw with a curiosity unique to her. For a moment, her discomfort passed and a small smile appeared on her fair face while she looked about her.

She then looked down to her hands and listened, not because she was nosy, but because she wanted to know what kind of people these were. She was a bit confused by it all, but from what she gathered they were a kind, decent people, and at that thought her shoulders eased a bit more. She pulled down her hood now that she felt sure she was in a safe enviroment, though her father would have scolded her for it.

Her long brown hair arrayed itself on her back and shoulders, reaching to just over half-way down her back. Her hand reached up and brushed her hair behind one plainly elven ear as her now visible eyes looked about again. They were of a strange color, a blue-green which seemed to alternate between the two depending on the light and her mood. At the moment they were almost a hazel, their color indescernable as either green or blue, but rather a mixture of both. As she glanced around, she wondered which of the persons here was the Inn Keeper, for she would need a place to stay.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma returned to her seat and smiled at Doran.

"I heard what she said Nuinyulma. There is no need to hide it from me or to stand up for me. I can fight my own battles." He stared at her new jewel and was painfully reminded of his parents. She took his hand in hers and quietly whispered part of her favourite verse;

/All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
The strong which is old does not wither
Deep roots are not reached by the frost [/]

"Remember Doran, those who love you will wish to help you. Pain from the past should, should not haunt you. Life continually moves on, until it is ended. At least for you it is- one day I will leave this world forever but not to death. Be glad that you do not share this fate for otherwise you will be constricted to dreaming and those who dream do not make things that are good happen."

"You are right Nuinyulma, I fear. I do dream to much. I dream about changing the past and what might have been. I will stay here for one more day and then leave, we will eave together and shall make our way south to wherever the road takes us."

"I cannot. I am staying here a while yet, I will work to earn my keep and then I do not know- I am sorry if you shall not stay but that is my decision."

[littlemanpoet]

Derufin was in the stable, grooming one of the horses with care. His face was unlined, his eyes distanct, as though his thoughts were far off. Upon hearing the footsteps of the Elf, Hobbit, and Man, Derufin faced them while continuing with his task. Uien introduced Doderic and Derufin to each other, and Doderic stated his business in his curt manner, though not without Hobbitish courtesy.

"So you have need of a horse for Falowik," Derufin mused. "All here are owned by guests of the Inn-" he paused "-save one, the chestnut charger there, the mount of Eodwine of Rohan."

"The very same...." Doderic mused. "Seeing as this is the only one, might we make use of him?"

"He is not mine to give," Derufin objected.

"Mayhap," said Uien, "the charger will tell us for himself what he wishes." She walked over to the horse as the three looked on with blank faces, the light of understanding flickering on in each one at a time, last in Doderic, who tipped his head in fascinated awe; Uien was the first Elf he'd seen, though he'd heard enough from the Master's tales.

Uien approached the charger and spoke calm words in a speech none of them knew. The charger raised his head from his food trough and watched her. His big brown eyes held the faintest fear, which vanished in a moment; his ears perked. Uien reached up and stroked his cheek, speaking to him in soft words all the while. Awareness of the other three came into the horse's eyes, and he gave a low rumble that Falowik did not understand in the least; it made him wary. He shuffled his feet. Uien turned to them, beaming.

"His name is Flít-haf; 'fleet of hoof'," she smiled. "He is willing to bear Falowik and me to Buckland."

"And you, assistant?" Derufin's brow rose.

"Falowik has never ridden horse before," she answered. "I can help Flíthaf and Falowik befriend each other, and the journey will go more quickly that way." Derufin still looked skeptical. "The need is urgent, Master Stableman! I ask to be released from my duty, for a short while."

"It could turn into a long while if you would go on this errand of rescue, Uien." Derufin had paused in his strokes. The horse beneath his touch stamped a hoof. Derufin patted the horse's side and continued the strokes.

"Uien," said Falowik, "I think that you should stay here, at least tonight; who else can recruit if we're both gone to Buckland? I do not trust Falco to the chore. If you will go on the rescue errand, so be it. But with a horse beneath me, I can be back tomorrow."

Doderic stamped his bare foot. "Time is escaping as we belabor this," he urged.

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath woke. (Elves don't really sleep do they; they just pretend. Or at least Anna does) She was feeling rather awkward and wondered why. Her dreams had been good ones but she still had a strange sense of foreboding. She stood up and slipped into her soft shoes. Annalaliath made her way out of her room down the stairs and out the doors. She was at the stable before she knew it. When she looked up she saw the doors of the stables. They seemed to be ajar, without thinking she slipped in and was standing by her horse.

She found herself there and she had not idea why. She just stood there looking at her steed. And thought of all the places she had been. She wondered what everyone back home in Lorien were doing, how they were. And then she thought of her father, where was he? Was he alive or dead? Had mother found him? Then a picture of him falling down the stairs and of Loth Lorien intruded and she started to laugh. She laughed till her sides hurt, the picture of herself and her father laughing at his embarrassing moment..

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen sighed easily at a job well done. An Elf works fast but two Elves the faster, Lira stood dusting herself off, the wine labeling accomplished she put out the oil lamps.

They headed towards the stairs; Lira laughed every so often at an old memory that Esgallhugwen knew nothing about. Peering around the wooden post, laying their eyes among many a new guest some looked to have met up with others as seemed to be the way things went in such a place as this; strangers meet and the next they are having personal conversations with one another telling stories and things they would not normally tell.

Lira took a seat by the hearth with Esgallhugwen close, but making it clear she did not want to go closer to the fire than she had to, only close enough to feel a slight warm. For once she was content; not cold, not hungry, not tortured by fire and steel, not running, not tired, not forsaken and not some horrible war mongering beast that her Father had tried to make her into.

She gazed deeply into the warm glow of the flames; feeling afraid and yet not so a Hobbit fire could do no harm, it was not made with the intention of harm and torture, yet still capable if only given the chance ...as all things were.

The night deepened as the two Elves sat across from one another. One fair to look upon though an uncertain dread shuddered in whoever did so and one decievingly unfair though her voice told of otherwise.

Esgallhugwen left the table then, sending a thought (as the Elves do) to Lira telling she would be outside taking in the beauty of the night.

The moon was deep in silver light outshinning the lesser stars around it's halo and giving her hair flecks of silver flame as the Elves she once knew described it. She took note that she still hadn't retrieved her cloak, gauntlets and sword from Morsereg's stall and that her bow and quiver and healing gear were safe in her room.

Esgallhugwen stepped within and walked lightly to the last stall where her dark stallion stood and neighed rather loudly. His proud greetings startled the group who were at the far entrance conversing about something in dire need of being done.

Esgallhugwen unlatched the hook being slightly embarrased, sounds were crisper in the stillness of the night. She hated attention being drawn to her, but this was the Shire not the wild and perhaps it could not be helped.

She spoke softly to Morsereg putting aside for awhile the reason she came in the first place.

[Elora]

Uien turned aside, glancing at Flithaf for a moment. Doderic shifted his weight impatiently. What Falowik said made sense, but that did not make it any easier. She sighed heavily and turned back, inclining her head in reluctant agreement.

"Very well, I will remain and see what aid can be garnered from those here," she said. Doderic rubbed his hands together, pleased that a prolonged debate had been spared. Derufin cleared his throat, the matter of Flithaf's use not entirely put to rest. Uien gave Doderic a long, measuring gaze before she turned to the Stablemaster.

"Falowik will see that Flithaf is returned to you here. I will vouchsafe it," she said quietly. Derufin maintained a rhythmic stroking as he chewed it over mentally. With a sigh he waved his assent on. Uien smiled at that. "My thanks, Derufin," she said gravely. Derufin nodded, continuing his brushing.

Doderic again shifted his weight, clearly eager to be away. Uien paused a little still, murmuring to the charger that stood beside her. He was a mixture of curiosity and restiveness, for Flithaf was not a horse that liked the idleness of stables and day pastures. It was the road and wide plains that he wished before him. Doderic announced that he was going to ready his own mount and leapt to that task.

Flithaf restively shivered and sidestepped as they saw to his tack. He mouthed his bit as though he too were keen to be on his way and had shivered when the saddle blanket had been thrown over his back, tail swishing and ears flicking. Once the charger was saddled, Uien passed Falowik the reins so that he could lead Flithaf from the stables.

She walked along side him and stood beneath a canopy of bright stars. Many things moved through her. When she looked at Falowik, she saw that he was studying her carefully, concerned.

"I think this is best," he started. Uien placed a hand on his arm and Flithaf snorted behind them.

"You are right, Laurëatan. Flithaf will bear you swiftly and safely." Uien paused then, for the urge to lean against him and rest her head on his shoulder was pressing hard upon her. Doderic was bound to be nearby. She managed a smile for Falowik and instead let her fingers lightly brush down the side of his cheek.

"I will seek aid. If I hear no word, I will set out with them to seek the Master of Buckland in two days. It is my hope that I will be able to bring you assistance earlier than that." Uien spoke calmly and with firm resolve as she gazed up at Falowik.

He smiled quietly back at her. The evening breeze lifted her hair. Falowik reached to tame it back from her face, still holding the reins in one hand.

"Thank you, Fair Uien," he murmured and her eyes closed as his fingers passed over one cheek. Uien's eyes opened again knowing that never would she forget the sound of his voice as it shaped her name, nor his touch. Stars hung over his head as lightness surged within her.

"May Elbereth watch over you, Falowik Laurëatan, my love," she dared whisper up to him.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

A lady in white was seen running, her footsteps lightly touching the ground. All who caught sight of her slipping into the inn were dumbfounded. She appears to be more like a falling star than a Dunedain.

Yet, a Dunedain she was, one of the remnants of the Numenoreans who made their abode North of Middle-Earth. She was a kinsman of the King, daughter of Gilraen's brother.

She stops, and asks the lady in front of her, "I look for one Elenrod Finrodion. Was he staying here?"

"Yes, my lady," she responded. "Upstairs, in one of the rooms." But then, Elenrod's golden hair was seen shimmering through the entrance of the Common Room.

"Lady Eledhwen, why are you here? What is urgent enough to take you from your home?"

"Meldanya, the King calls for you. He has heard of all you've done for the undoing of the Dark Lord, and plans to reward your deeds."

"No, not all. No one can know of all that happened to me in the Black Land. And..." He suddenly ceased talking, and trembled in fright. "...no one else must know what I've done. I almost fell under his shadow. If my tale is recounted, the terror of his presence will haunt others, as it had continuously haunted me."

They fell silent. Elenrod looked West, his vision piercing the walls of the inn, reaching far out to the sea. Then, she turned his eyes back on the white lady.

"Nay, Melatariel. I cannot go. I must now return to the West. Farewell, White Lady of Arnor."

He ran towards the exit, and Melatariel tried to follow her. But, he was quickly lost, and only the glimmer of his hair in starlight was seen.

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath started to walk back to the inn as se wiped some tears away. The memory of her father always made her laugh till tears and that was good. She walked in through the front door, smelling strongly of hay and horses. She walked around some of the new comers in the common room , greeting each in turn; as she made her way to the stairs.

She nodded a greeting to Doran Deroder as she walked by the corner table that she had occupied so much the last time she had been here. Annalaliath spoke a word of greeting to the maiden sitting her table(Lumiel). And also to Lady Eledhwen. Annalaliath strode quietly and swiftly towards the stairs that led to her room above.

Tomorrow she would clean her cloths, and go to the market for some fabric, she badly needed new ones. Her cloak swirled behind her the mud staining it flaking on the floor. The cloak that the Lady of the wood had made for her, Annalaliath, the charge of Galadriel. Suddenly she felt a pang of hatred for her mother. As this happened her face changed with it. Her brows furrowed and her eyes became hard, the inexhaustible pools of blue grey seemed to turn to ice. Annalalaith stopped at a support beam and leaned on it. She stared at the floor as to not let others know of her trouble. The feelings passed and she continued on.

[Lumiel]

Watching the people come and go, Lumiel passed the time. Her finger habitually went to a hidden lump near her neck where an heirloom hung on a small silver chain of mithril.

She saw the Lady Eledwen, and thought her a fair lady, who brought to her memories too distant to be more than a faded blur. She folded her hands on her lap, hoping that what caused Eledwen to hurry so was not any sort of serious trouble.

She half closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of civilization, or at least it seemed that way to her, who had little experience with such places. The Lady Annalalaith gave her a greeting and she returned it with a nod and a smile. She absent-mindedly watched her as she walked away, and then stopped by a support beam. Suddenly the woman's fair, happy disposition changed to one of anger and anxiety, or so it seemed to Lumiel. She knit her brow in concern for the woman, and felt an urge to help her somehow, though she knew it was more than likely she could do little for the woman's hurts, whatever they were. None-the-less, she felt that she should do something, so she stood up, ready to walk over to Annalalaith, but her chance passed as she continued up the stairs.

She sat back down again and looked around. Perhaps someone here could tell her who that woman was and also who the Innkeeper was, as she still needed a room, prefering the comfort of a warm bed to the open night, which she had experienced quite enough for a while to last.

[ September 15, 2003: Message edited by: Lumiel ]

[littlemanpoet]

"-my love." He was glad they had left the stables and that no one had heard her declaration. He was not ashamed of her love, but Falowik had never let any of his mind or heart be known to anyone until a day ago, and then only to this one Elven lady, her beauty resplendent so that it seemed she could be blown into the air with the breeze - yet solid to the touch and with a will like mithril. He did not want the treasure of what they shared to be flashed before the world.

"I am coarse and ill fit to hold what you give, d - dearest, fairest one." She made to speak protesting words, but he shook his head, and she forbore. "I will return as quickly as Master Doderic and Flithaf allow. I fear I shall weaken the minute I am gone from you, and fail of all the good you have nursed in me, for away from you, I am less than nothing." Again she opened her mouth to gainsay him. He put his finger to her lips. "Fair one, fair my Uien, love, my heart of hearts, the stars are your food and drink, for their fire lights you in the night." Falowik took his finger from her lips and took hold of her right hand. "But you are my star, so I pray you, shine from afar. When I look to the west, I will seek the light that comes from you, for it is all the light I know. Fairest Uien, heart of my heart, my love, my star." He raised her hand to his lips and held it there, closing his eyes, drinking in the tenderness of her skin, and its fragrance; he raised his eyes to hers, which shone with a brilliance he had not yet seen, and an ardor that was too much for him.

"I am lucked beyond measure, dearest Uien, and all evil that has touched me before is as nothing, for I have known and loved you, and have received yours. It is more than any man can ask from his days." He wanted to release the reins and take her in his arms, and love her in deed as well as word, but it would be unseemly, and he was needed elsewhere this very night. He let slip her hand with a final kiss, and stepped into the stirrup - and missed; stumbling, his face collided with the horse's side, which stood unmoving.

"Here, let me help," Uien offered.

Falowik rubbed his face and chuckled. "See what good you do me? Any other day I would have fallen into a rage at the shame of such clumsiness. Listen to how I talk when I'm with you. Is this Falowik?" " He expected some words in reply, but they did not come. He looked at her face, and saw such light and a mixture of joy with regret at their parting, that she had no need of words. The stirrup in her hands held firm as Falowik placed his foot in it, and in another moment was sitting in the saddle, looking down at Uien. Her eyes shone still.

"Elbereth, my Laurëatan."

"Eárendil, my Lodestone."

Doderic was waiting. Falowik shook the rains once, and Flithaf was off, trotting toward Doderic and his pony. Uien watched Falowik's back as it dwindled into the distance.

[Imladris]

Lira leaned toward the fire's flame and sighed gratefully. The warmth of the fire enrapped her, tingled her flesh delightedly; the grey smoke drifted lightly towards her, enveloped her with a light shroud and made her eyes water slightly. I will be outside Esgallhugwen said. Lira nodded in assent and watched the fair elf stride to the door and disappear into the fading twilight.

Lira sighed and, sliding from her seat near the fire, sank to the floor and held her pale cheek against the red brick of the hearth. Weariness swept over the ugly elf maid, the heat of the bricks whispered bewitchingly of rest and fair dreams...the faint, calling neigh of a horse woke Lira from her sleep, and frowning, Lira realized that it was her own mare that called to her. Rising, she swayed unsteadily to her feet and strolled slowly towards the stable that was lit irredescently with the silver light of the moon. As she went to her mare, she saw that the elf maid Uien and the other man were speaking to each other, and Lira smiled softly as she saw their love.

She lifted the latch of the stall, and slipped beside her horse who whickered softly in greeting. Lira glanced into the manger and saw that it was filled with food and that fresh water was in the trough. "Little one," she whispered into the horse's ears, calling the mare by an old nickname. "You missed me, did you?" She laughed as the horse pranced in eager affirment. "I am sorry, little one," she said stroking the soft muzzle. "I was busy in the wine cellar, labelling the many different wines for the innkeeper. We finished the job, Esgallhugwen and I."

Patting the horse in farewell, Lira turned and wandered under the light of the moon, finally perching upon the wooden rail of the corral in a pool of moonlight, her pale hair glimmering softly, her blue lit with a haunting glow as she wandered paths of memory. A song flitted through her mind and, almost absently, she began to murmur the lay of Luthien and Beren.

[Elora]

Uien watched the moonligh play silver over Falowik's hair as he rode with Doderic into the night. A faint smile played on her lips, heart full with his words and what had shone within his face and eyes. If he expected her love to diminish, she would have the joy of defeating such a foretelling. Shine she would if it meant lighting his way. Behind her, the sound of the Lay of Luthien floated in the air.

Some accorded it a tale of sadness, but there was much joy also. Uien sighed and turned to face the stables. A woman stood, singing by her horse. Perhaps she too understood the joy of Luthien's choice. Uien lifted her hand and her gaze met Lira's. Luthien gave much for her love, yet to Uien's mind she understood how much she recieved in return. After a moment of shared understanding between the two, Uien turned for the inn.

She had two days to muster aid before she set out and she planned to use them well. Hoping she would have the opportunity to speak with Lira prior to leaving, Uien entered back into the boisterous commonroom. Her gaze swept over the two that Falowik had pointed out to her. They were still sitting together. Another to speak to. Her gaze then found one Falco Boffin, Shirrif.

Her words of earlier that day circled in her head and Falco gaze slid away from hers. He became further enamoured of the table top when he realised that Uien was walking for him with purpose in her face.

"Shirrif Boffin," she said. Falco looked up at her, perhaps in the hopes that she really was not there. "Uien," he replied uncomfortably.

"I thought it would interest you to know that the Master of Buckland has sent his Second for Falowik, concerning the matter of Eodwine's disappearance. The two have departed only now so that they may speak with him." Falco's brows shot up, at that.

"And you did not go with them," he said in surprise.

"I plan to seek the Master of Buckland with the aid of others so that a search party can be formed. I will set out two days hence will all who are willing to assist."

"And I suppose Falowik has a big group of eager civic-minded assistants just waiting to be rounded up," Falco quipped.

"I thought perhaps you might have, Shirrif," Uien returned with some asperity at the implication. She paused then, drawing back before her anger rose. Falco saw her only straighten, as though she were rising above him with haughty pride.

"No matter," she ammended after a moment's silence. "If I must do this without your help, I shall Shirrif. My word on it. Good evening." With that Uien turned and left, making for the table where Nuinyulma and Doran Deroder sat in quiet converse. Falco watched her depart from beneath an offended, creased brow.

"Meddlesome..." he muttered, taking a long pull of ale from his tankard. If she thought to usurp his legitimate authority on grounds of her Elvish "wisdom", then she had underestimated just how seriously he took his responsibilities as Shirrif.

For Uien though, she had put aside the far from satisfactory exchange with Falco for the time being. Her only hope was to perhaps win his aid at some future point, if indeed his aid was worth having. Uien was far from decided on that matter. Ruby was also making for the same table, Deran having indicated that he could do with another drink.

"I see to it, Ruby. It's a busy night," Uien offered. Ruby smiled appreciatively and veered off to another table who also had a hand up for a drinks order. Uien continued on and found the pair sitting in silence.

"Excuse me," Uien began with a grave smile as she looked first at Nuinyulma and then at Doran. "I saw that you wished a drink and thought it would be an opportune moment to speak with you both of a matter of some importance. I hope I am not intruding."

Both returned Uien's gaze with a somewhat puzzled one. The Elf maiden realised her lapse with some internal chagrin for her own inelegance. The night had been a busy one, but that was no excuse. She missed Falowik's steadying presence already and she had two days before any hope of remedying that.

"I am Uien, and I work here at the Green Dragon Inn," she explained to them. "Please, may I speak with you. It will not take long. I will be only too happy to arrange for refreshments regardless of whether my company is to your liking or no." Uien fell silent then, hands clasped at her waist as she waited to learn if her clumsy approach had not cost her yet again.

[Imladris]

Lira thought of Luthien as she sang the lay, how the elf maid had given and received much love. Her eyes met Uien's at that moment and Lira knew that Uien herself knew what Luthien had shared. Uien turned and returned to the inn while Lira quietly continued to sing, before her voice faded into nothingness. She wondered why Uien had seemed to so sad to bid the golden haired man farewell. Something was in the wind.

Neighing farewell to her horse, Lira strode swiftly towards the inn and looked for Uien. She was beside a table, quietly conversing with another elf and a man. Retreating swiftly into the shadows, Lira waited a few tables away for Uien and the others to finish.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen had decided it would be a good night to take a walk, unlatching the stable door after Lira's voice faded off even though the memory didn't. A few tears streamed down her face; it was a grievous song but was laced with golden tones of better days for the Elves.

Morsereg followed behind unbridled and unsaddled. He nudged Esgallhugwen softly to comfort her sad tears, patting him on the head they slowly drifted off down the trail turning to paly shadows. Clad in the raiment of her kin and the sword her Mother gave her, she smiled once more back at the warm glow of the inn; speaking softly to Morsereg in her own tongue.

later that night:

When Esgallhugwen returned the night deepened but the light of the moon did not falter. She sent Morsereg back to the stable and entering the Inn had to become accustomed to the thick smell of ale once again. She waved over to Lira able to percieve her in the shadow of the corner, very odd for Lira to be sitting in the shadow. But Lira was awaiting for Uien to finish converse with two other individuals, something was in the air... something always was. Esgallhugwen sat next to lira in silence.

[ September 16, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma looked at Doran and the at the elf who stood before them and signalled for her to sit down.

Doran spoke, "It is good to meet you Uien but tell me, you say you work at the inn. Yet I have not seen you before."

Uien smiled and explained how she shingled the roof- other than that she said nothing. As the two sipped their drinks, she sat patiently hoping they would at least let her speak and explain her position.

After what seemed like an eternity, Nuinyulma placed her tankard on the table, "Please go ahead Uien for I am keen to hear what you have to say."

[ September 18, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[Arveleg]

A crusty old hobbit wearing a green/brown cloak walked with his cane toward the Green Dragon. He had heard of the legendary ale of this place, for word had gotten down to the Sarn where he farmed some of the most famous of leaf. But Sarn Smokelittle didn't smoke so much, but liked instead to brew ale.

He pused the door open to the Green Dragon, and walking in like he owned the place, he waved at a maid and said,

'Gimmee one of these most famoustest Green Dragon ales I heared about down south.'

Really he was thinking that Sadie Longtresses was overly fond of the ale when she was by here last year that she exagerated its quality. So he would find out for himself now.

[Asa]

A tall lean Elf walks slowly toward the Green Dragon inn. He had traveled far to this place seeking not the Grey Havens as many other Elves did but to learn of the mysterious folk that lived in this part of the world namely "Hobbits"

As he opened the door to the inn he noticed that he would be learning of more then just hobbits. All maner of folk were gathered here drinking their ale or smoking thier pipeweed. Thier were Dwarves, Hobbits, Elves, and Men all in one place.

Elmerith went to an empty table in a corner of the inn he looked around the inn again. Maybe he would be luky and hear some nteresting news or maybe there would be a quest to go on. Elmeith was thirsting for some adventure.

As he continued in his reflections he began to realize that he was thirsting fore a more earthly desire in his eyes. He called out to the baretender and signaled for a glass of wine.

[littlemanpoet]

Uien told her tale. She told Doran and Nuinyulma of Eodwine, Messenger of King Eomer of Rohan, who had come to the Inn about two weeks before. Uien had not made his acquaintance, but Derufin the stablemaster had. Eodwine was a veteran of the War of the Ring, and had come North for a year and a day, to learn of the peoples of the North, he had said. He had left after one day at the Inn, and those who had made his acquaintance, assumed that he was on his way to meet the folk of the Shire.

One day later, Eodwine's charger had galloped into Bywater, his saddle on his back, but no rider to be seen anywhere. Derufin had taken the horse into stable, and those who worked at the Inn wondered amonst themselves what it could mean. A few days later, a wanderer appeared with the satchel that Eodwine had carried with him, and in it was Eodwine's harp, but damaged. The wanderer, whose name was Falowik, had seen Eodwine's capture, and keeping his wits about him, had stayed hidden until the dozen marauders had taken Eodwine with them. Falowik had taken the harp, and the tale of what he had witnessed, to the Shire. It just so happened that Eodwine had seen Falowik, perhaps by the light of the moon, and though no words had passed between them, by the fierce life in his eyes, Eodwine charged Falowik to give him any aid he could. Falowik and Uien were determined to rescue Eodwine, and were looking for brave and hearty folk who would be willing to go with them.

There was more to the tale also. for Gondorian scouts, and Rangers of the North, had gone missing in alarming numbers over the last few years. It was believed that some powerful Orc, or other dark servant of Sauron, had set up an evil holding in the North. Such was the tale Uien told. She fell silent and waited.

[Arveleg]

Paitiently awaiting his ale, he saw an elf enter, and watched the crowd some. He muttered to himself,
' Shire sure has gone downhill since the King rescinded the ban on big folk, but men do like to buy pipeweed...'

After reading the stains on the table for awhile, he was still quite thirsty. He stood up and leaned against his cane and shouted at the missy who he asked for an ale before.

'Are ye gonna serve up an ale anytime soon? and I'll take a jar to go if it ain't much trouble.'

Sarn sat down again in a huff. Ale can't be that great if'n they cant take the time to serve an old Hobbit from the Southfarthing.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel couldn't find Dynaviir; maybe he was hiding. She walked slowly back into the Inn and sighed when she saw that Soronume seemed to have disappeared as well. The table where the group had been sitting was now occupied by an old hobbit, who she could hear muttering about Big Folk in something of an unfavorable light. She avoided that table, preferring not to approach anyone who disliked her kind. He would be more likely to judge her on her stutter than the others.

She looked around, and caught the tail end of a tale told by a clear elvish voice. Something about an Orc or some other dark servant of Sauron setting up his own empire. It sounded interesting and she slipped over to the table where the tale-teller sat with two others.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin found himself bone-tired. It had been a very long two days. The Inn roof was repaired, and reshingled. And he with two of the workers at the Inn had finished up clearing the rooms under the eaves where Piosenniel and her family would stay when they arrived. Now it was left to Ruby and Buttercup to fuss over the arrangement of the beds and chests of drawers, desk and chairs and tables that Derufin had manhandled up the stairs and sat in the middle of the clean, empty room.

They shooed him out the door, requesting he make one last trip for two rugs - one to lay in the main room where Mistress Pio and her Mister would sleep, and the other smaller, brighter one for the adjoining alcove where the twins would be.

‘Oh! And once you’re done fetching those rugs, Derufin – be a dear and get the rocker from Cook’s room to set by the cradle.’ Ruby had smiled and pushed him onto the landing, urging him on with her feather-duster.

The rugs were easily gotten, though a bit unwieldy. Rolled inside one another, he finally managed to balance them on his shoulder and trudge up the stairs to the top landing.

Buttercup looked up from her making of the bed as he plopped the long bundle on the floor and stretched his tired muscles. ‘The chair, Derufin! No time for dawdling! They’ll be here in just a few days!’

With a weary sigh he made his way back to the kitchen, and knocked on Cook’s door. ‘I’ve come for the rocker,’ he told her as she looked at him expectantly. ‘Right!’ she said brightening, ‘and while you’re at it, take these baby quilts up for the twins, and these pictures that I found in the cellar to cheer up the place. Cook loaded up the chair seat with the extra 'necessaries' and sent him on his way.

He had just entered the Common Room heading for the stairway when he spied Uien sitting at a table spinning a story that had her listeners enthralled. ‘By the One! Have the horses been seen to?!’ he muttered to himself as he passed near.

Outside, it was already dark . . . had they been fed, and new water given them . . . were they locked safe in their stalls . . .

He grunted at his aching muscles and shifted the weight of the bulky rocker. ‘I’ll see to them when I’ve finished here,’ he sighed, hoping beyond hope that the two Hobbits upstairs had no more ‘errands’ for him . . .

[elf-girl-63]

Uien paused again and patiently waited for a response. The night was drawing in but the air outside remained warm and dry. Those who weren't staying in the inn began to leave and return to their homes and families. Soon, there were very few people left in the bar but Ruby still seemed rushed off her feet.

Nuinyulma looked at Doran and waited for his answer. She desperately wanted to go but without him it was pointless.

[Beren87]

Beren laid in his in his bed, his arms folded behind his neck, propping up an ailing head. Warm, liquid, soreness reverberated throughout his body as muscles slowly unclenched themselves. It hadn't really been a long day, only a nine or ten hours out in the sun. Somehow the stress seemed more to his mind than his body. A soul crying out for...something.

He stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. Dinner had been served a while ago, cook having prepared it quickly and simply in order to save stock for Pio's arrival. He ate it down as fast as he would have any other meal, he'd known quite a few worse in his time.

Smiling to himself he arose out of bed to stand at the windowsill. The moon had barely arisen so early in the evening, it's light was barely enough to illuminate the still ground of the Shire. A part of him twinged for some home he'd never known, some love he'd never imagined..

A call from somewhere in the Inn directed his head up. Eyes pierced the night to no avail. The call wasn't for him anyway, but it did stir something in him, or perhaps it was the sight of the building. Errands all day had kept him busy enough to not have to think more than he needed, it was only at night these stray thoughts whispered among the corners of his soul. Oh how he wished it would rain. A gentle drizzle to wash simple cares away.

The bed called out to him enough to draw his eyes away from the enchantment of the window. Its nearly rock-hard matress gave some support to his back, but it was a world of comfort to him. At least, at any other time it would be. He knew tonight there would be little sleep, his thoughts lingered to much on some faraway wish. His head rested softly on the feather pillow and decided to dream one more thought before sleep. A silent thought of that greatest of emotions, a soul calling out for only one wish, his mind wandered to love.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel lost interest in the elf's story. As important as it might be, it also didn't do much for the pressing question of how she would replenish her steadily diminishing supply of cash. She looked around, half-thinking about picking a few pockets, but more out of boredom. She saw the stable-master--whose name she couldn't quite recall,Dervin...Durfin...Derufin, that was it--trudge up the stairs with a load of what looked like rugs, then he came down again, disappeared, then reappeared with a bulky rocking chair. It was a faintly amusing sight, but it also looked like the poor man needed some help.

She got up and walked across the room to the struggling man. "E-e-excuse me, b-b-but would y-y-you like some h-h-help with that? I-i-it looks h-h-heavy." Without waiting for a response, she took the quilts and picture frames from the seat of the chair and preceded him up the stairs.

"W-w-which room?" she called when she reached the top. Derufin seemed to be just slightly preoccupied with his burden and didn't seem to hear her, so she pressed her back to the wall and waited for him to pass, then followed him to a set of rooms under the eaves. He dragged the chair in and she set the quilts and things down in the seat.

"Thanks," he said gruffly. He looked tired and she wondered if his mutterings earlier had something to do with that. She had caught a few black looks in her general direction, but it was more likely that they had been cast toward Uien, who seemed to have gone completely soft-headed over the golden-haired newcomer. Falowik, or some such name.

"D-d-do you n-n-need help wi-with the horses, s-s-sir? I have-I mean, I used t-t-to trade i-i-in them. W-would I serve? A-a-at least u-u-until Uien starts w-w-work again." She refrained from telling him exactly what kind of trade she had done with horses; she somehow felt that he would not be impressed.

[ September 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Imladris]

Cold hatred filled Lira as she listened to Uien's tale. She gripped the silver knife of Esgallhugwen as she listened closely, for she was some distance away and Uien's soft voice was often muffled by the crowd of chatter that existed around them. Who could have done such terrible things, Lira mused, her blue eyes turning to ice as she contemplated. Orcs, or southern men, minions and dogs of the Enemy.

She saw a shadow come toward her, and, looking around her, she saw Esgallhugwen take her place beside her. Instantly, the cold features of Lira melted away under the bright smile of friendship. Looking away, she continued to listen as Uien asked the two at the table if they wished to partake of the quest.

[Elora]

Nuinyulma glanced to Doran, who was swallowed by thought. As Uien paused, she caught Evinytar's glance as he left the inn and felt a pang of guilt. So much to do and she was planning to leave the Stablemaster for a time in order to aid upon this search. She looked back to the pair she had been speaking to at the table.

"Perhaps you would like to discuss this amongst yourselves," Uien offered. It would certainly have taken her aback to have a stranger approach her with such a tale and request their help. She stood, smoothing her skirts and left them with one last plea.

"Please, a man could lie dying in the Wilderness. I need all the help I can find. I leave at dawn, the day after tomorrow. If you would leave with me, I can be found at the stables until then.

Enjoy your evening." Uien smiled at Nuinyulma and offered to same to Doran, without guile. She made one detour to fetch the promised drinks and left them to deliberate. Falowik would have greater success than she, Uien thought. She hoped he fared better upon the road than she presently did. The thought of him lightened her heart a measure as she espied Lira.

Perhaps, Uien thought, I could try again. Still Evinytar would need assistance. Caught, Uien decided upon a course of action. She neared Lira and ventured a smile for the other.

"I see you are much recovered from when last I saw you," Uien said as she approached. Lira blinked at her in question, mind wandering back to the tumultuous first hours of her arrival at the inn. She smiled faintly in understanding and inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"Yes, I am," she replied after a moment. It had been some time since last Uien had spoken with an Elf. Her gaze dropped to where Lira clutched her dagger and then returned to Lira's face.

"I do not wish to impose," Uien said, "But I had thought to speak with you on a matter of some importance." Lira nodded brusquely.

"I had thought the same," she replied. Uien brightened.

"Would it be too much to ask you to accompany me to the stables. I have work there that I have left undone too long and time is slipping through my fingers." In answer, Lira stood with a quick smile and they departed through the door. Uien noticed Lira look around her, as though something or someone was expected to follow her, but said nothing of it.

As they crossed the distance between Inn and stables, Uien continued on.

"A man has been attacked and abducted," she began, "and I mean to gather a party of those willing to find him to join with those already set upon this task." Lira nodded.

"I heard you speak of this at the inn. When do you mean to set out?"

"Dawn, in two days time. I dare not delay any longer."

"And where do you intend to make for?"

"Northern Eriador. It is where Eodwine was last sighted."

"Who will you travel with?"

"The Master of Buckland will likely appoint a representative. Also a man of great honour, Falowik," Uien's voice softened with her face as she shaped his name. "Also the Shirrif Falco Boffin may likely come with us..." Any softness was replaced by a subtle flash of irritation. Uien turned her face to Lira.

"I was hoping you too would join us," she said boldly as they reached the stables.

Falco Boffin, meanwhile, had watched Uien stumble with Nuinyulma and Doran. The pair sat in earnest discussion now. How in the world was Eodwine to be rescued if it was left to that Elf to raise the search party? He drained his ale with a distinct sense of renewed importance. Smoothing his vest as he stood, Falco set off to raise his own search party.

What they needed was good, stout, sensible hobbits. Uppity Elves and ruffian Men, Rangers and somesuch, could wander about all they pleased. But his search party, would get there and back again sooner. Falco wagered with himself that he'd probably have a party put together and on its way before Uien ever set out after that dubious Falowik fellow.

So intent was Falco on proving his worth and ability as a Shiriff that he was nearly out of the door by the time Ruby called out after him.

"Hoy there, Shiriff! Think you could spare us a copper or four for the vittles you've managed to work your way through tonight?" Falco flushed as he dug in his vest pocket.

"Of course I can," he spluttered as he rapidly closed the gap between himself and Ruby. He was already red cheeked and did not wish for Ruby to have cause to loudly declare her communications with him across the common room. More than a few looked assiduously away as he took care of the outstanding account.

Falco pressed the coins into Ruby's waiting hand. She batted her lashes, a smile of pure amusement on her features. "Never doubted it for a moment, Shirrif. What, a Hobbit of your esteemed stature and all." Falco scowled at her mightily, which only caused Ruby's smile to widen. He spun about and resumed, muttering about those who darken the good office of Shiriff with such foolish comments.

Ruby chortled merrily, pocketing the payment with the others and speeding along her separate way. She found the table she was aiming for, occupied by a Hobbit who had asked for a jar of ale to go.

Ruby placed a foaming tankard before him and appraised the hobbit.

"We're mighty busy tonight, but I'll do my best to see you are not left dry, good Master. However, this is an Inn of excellent standing and we do not offer take-away ale service." Ruby's voice held a hint of a sniff at the very idea. Sam eyed her and saw Ruby relent somewhat.

"So, if you've a mind to stay, do enjoy some of the fare from our kitchens. Like our ale, it's the finest around." She nodded, pleased at having gotten a pitch for Cook's work in as well. As ever though, Ruby was not standing still long before another shout for more ale went up.

[Imladris]

Relinquishing the hold upon her dagger, Lira flashed a gently smile at Uien and listened closely to Uien as she swiftly related the details that Lira had missed. She walked with Uien towards the stable and, when they neared the door, Uien turned and said boldly, "I was hoping you, too, would join us."

Fierce joy flooded Lira as she heard Uien's statement. To rescue a wounded man who may be dead or dying was a noble quest and to aid Uien would be a pleasure. That she, Uien who was fair to behold, would wish that Lira, an elf without beauty, filled the elf maid with indescribable joy. A happy smile shone upon her face and Lira said gently, "I would be honoured to journey with you." Uien smiled and Lira accompanied her and aided her with the duties of a stablemaster's assistant.

[Envinyatar]

‘Niniel, isn’t it?’

He looked up at her from the rocking chair where he’d sat down. Ruby and Buttercup had grabbed the quilts and pictures and bustled off with them. He could hear them chattering in the main bedroom about the placement of one of the pictures even as he asked his question. Silence followed, and he heaved himself from the chair, taking Niniel by the elbow and ushering her quickly out door and down the stairs.

‘If we stay, they’ll be finding more for us to do!’ he said hurrying her to a table out of sight of both the kitchen and the stairway.

One of the servers came by and he asked for some soup and bread and a pint of midsummer’s ale. ‘And what would the lady like,’ he asked, smiling at Niniel.

She made her order and they both made small talk until the drinks came. Through the open window he could see Uien and one of the other patrons making their way to the stables. The horses would be seen to that night, but what of the coming ones. Uien seem preoccupied and he had gathered from Falco’s talk that a number of the Inn’s guests would be leaving on the search party for Eodwine. ‘Uien will be among them,’ he thought to himself.

‘Tell me, Niniel’ he said leaning on the table, to look at her closely. ‘What sort of skills and experience do you have with horses?’ He was thinking he would need to replace his assistant, and soon if she left on the search party. And just how long might your services be available, if there were to be a position open up? he wondered to himself as he sized her up . . .

[Tinuviel of Denton]

‘Tell me, Niniel’ the stable-master said leaning on the table, looking at her closely. ‘What sort of skills and experience do you have with horses?’

Oh dear. Her experience with horses was mostly limited to the occasional theft; She could hardly tell Derufin that. On occasion, she had helped in Inns. The horses always seemed to like her and she liked that they didn't expect her to speak. She could tell the stable-master that; it was true enough, just not the entire truth.

"I-I used to h-h-help with th-th-them at the I-i-inns I found, in ex-exchange for l-l-lodging for the n-n-night. I-I can al-always c-c-calm them; h-h-horses l-l-like me. A-a-and I-I th-th-think I re-remem-remember helping s-s-someone with a s-s-sick one, once. I-I don't remember a-a-a lot of what I u-u-used t-t-to do." She shrugged. "I-I do t-t-take care of m-m-my own horse, though."

It didn't sound like a lot of experience to her and maybe the stable-master wouldn't think that she knew enough about horses to help him, but she could hardly tell him that she knew how to check a horse's condition. He would ask how, and she wasn't going to tell him that she knew that because a thief might have to get away quickly and a horse with bad wind or other defects would not be an asset.

[Elora]

Uien gratitude and relief was evident at Lira's reply. She reached to grasp Lira's shoulder with a warm smile.

"My thanks, Lira." Lira nodded, returing Uien's warmth in her expression. Uien glanced at the silver dagger that hung from Lira's belt.

"Tell me, are you a warrior?" Uien recalled the fierce flash of Lira's blue gaze at the inn and the way she caressed the dagger's hilt with an air of familiarity. As though the weapon gave her comfort with its presence. Lira blinked at Uien's forthright query and faint regret for her boldness coloured Uien's cheeks. She released Lira's shoulder and spread her hands in a gesture of apology.

"Forgive my curiosity," she added, "I do not mean to pry. You seen so capable with that dagger is all. It is not like any other that I have seen." Uien fell silent then, for she had seen more than her fair share of weapons and the grief that they brought. She had a healer's soul and she carried only a meagre belt knife that carved wood rather than foes.

Lira, with her air of capability, reminded her a great deal of her brothers. Their hands had wandered also to the hilts of daggers and swords when roused. She wished they were here now also, able to aid Edowine and Falowik. With a small sigh of wistful regret for their absence, for she missed them keenly still, Uien gestured through the stables to the day pasture where the horses still waited.

"I should see the horses and ponies safely stalled for the night," she said as Lira contemplated what to disclose to Uien of the dagger and herself, if anything at all. Gathering her skirts, Uien started for the pasture and the horses that waited impatiently for their stall, oats and comfort of the stables. When she heard Lira's footfall beside her, Uien shot a pleased smile at the Elf, relieved that her earlier boldness had not undone Lira's decision and pleased for the company in the absence of her love, Falowik.

[Esgallhugwen]

Uien had approached them as hopefully expected. Lira stood up from the table and looked back at her with a question on her face, Esgallhugwen nodded that she would soon follow but did not want to intrude or feel rather like an obedient dog, following wherever Lira would tread.

She had heard much of the earlier converse due to her keen hearing, and needn't be filled in on the details she already knew. But soon enough when she felt the time to be right she too left the Inn for the stable to hear Uien curiously question about the silver dagger that hung gracefully on Lira's side.

Esgallhugwen didn't speak much but decided to do so now 'the dagger is a gift from one new friend to the other, and I am curious to know if Lira has skill with her new gift,(if not I'd be more then willing and glad to teach her) and I also took notice that she carried no such item on her, so in giving it to her I gave her protection and my friendship'. Uien glanced back a little startled at the Elf's sudden appearance, Lira laughed already used to Esgallhugwen popping up here and there without being looked for.

'I was also curious to know if I too could join on this search for Eodwine, it would grieve me to part from a friend whom I have only just begun to know' Morsereg, Esgallhugwen's black steed snorted in the corral as other horses drew around him waiting for their oats, he whickered gently to greet Esgallhugwen and the two other Elves.

[Elora]

Uien gathered her thoughts in a moment and nodded towards Esgallhugwen.

"You would be more than welcome," Uien replied as one of the horses whickered in recognition. It occurred to her in that moment that she had no horse of her own, a matter that would have to be rectified quickly as well. One hand on the gate to the corral, Uien extended the other to Esgallhugwen with a smile for the mysterious Elf.

"My thanks for your generous offer, Lady..." She left the question of Esgallhugwen's name hanging a moment. Lira and Esgallhugwen exchanged a smile before Uien's hand was accepted.

"Esgallhugwen," came the reply. Uien repeated the name and studied the friends. Yes, a good beginning. These two seemed brave and steadfast, Uien concluded. She softened her open study of them with a smile.

"I think I owe your horse an apology, Esgallhugwen, for not coming sooner to release them to their stalls. He is a noble horse and should not be kept waiting for so long." Uien nodded her head at Morsereg, who regally examined her. Deeming Uien contrite enough, he accepted her apology with a flicker of his ears and a stamp of one powerful leg.

Uien, who had the halters draped over one shoulder, slipped the latch and entered the pasture. She was followed by Lira and Esgallhugwen. As they placed the halters over patiently waiting heads and gathered them to lead back to the stables, Uien continued her endeavour to understand more of both Lira and Esgallhugwen.

"It must be a fine thing," she said, "to have such a friend in each other." Again Lira and Esgallhugwen exchanged a smile.

"It is," Lira confirmed with warmth, leading five horses behind her.

"Are you also a warrior," Uien asked of Esgallhugwen, who had bestowed Lira with the dagger. Esgallhugwen led Morsereg along with several other horses and ponies. Uien herself found her hands full with no less than six ponies. All were eager for their oats and the warm, soft, sweet hay in their stalls and so presented little trouble for the three Elves.

Whilst Uien waited to learn more, her mind wandered over what she would tell them were she asked. She was not a warrior, nor a huntress or tracker. What use a healer on such a venture, or a wood carver or painter? She would instead tell them of Falowik, for that would make more sense. They would not doubt their decisions once the knew of the man they would be joining in this search, his honour. They would be as certain as she was, for they would see as clearly as she did. They were Elven also.

[Imladris]

A silvery laugh, reminiscent of a rushing river, bubbled forth from Lira. "Am I a warrior?" she asked. "No," she said, softly this time. "I do not care to fight and avoid it when necessary. However," here her eyes hardened to cold water, "I harbour no love for men who bind and slay innocent men in the woods or may be one of the Enemy's lingering allies." She breathed deeply as she led the steeds. "I hate they who have pledged allegiance with the Darkness and they I do not hesitate to fight...but I do not purposely go out of my way to hunt them. But neither can I turn my back of a man in need of aide." Her smile faded and a sadness entered and shone from her blue eyes. "I have seen much death and bloodshed," Lira said softly. "I am skilled in healing, but I am also skilled in the arts of war, but I prefer the latter. I would choose to wander in the misty darkness of the woods, to sing under the stars of twilight, to ride in wonder under the forsaken boughs of Lothlorien, to seek for healing herbs and herbs of pleasure in the meadows, to drink wine in elven halls, to sing in merriment than to wear the garb of a warrior, to slay upon the battlefields, to bathe my hands in blood. Yet, if there was need, I could do them as well, though my heart would grieve o'er the fall of man."

Lira lapsed into silence and gazed at Uien. This elf maid, too, had known hardships and deaths, probably more than she.

She filled the waiting troughs with water and replenished the oats and grains of the horses. Leaning upon a stall, she said, "Esgallhugwen, my heart is glad that you have joined us and I thank you, mellon Uien, that you have allowed us to go with you and your love Falowik" -- a smile crossed Lira's face -- "to aide the man of Rohan. But what of you, Uien? A healer or a warrior, or both?"

[ September 23, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Envinyatar]

The words that fell from her lips did not match the fleeting expressions on her face. She was vague about her experiences with horses, hesitant. He had seen her, though, with her horse, and they seemed comfortable in each other’s company. The horse did not shy away or act uneasy when she approached.

Derufin smiled to himself, his eyes glinting with sudden knowledge. She had not always stepped on the right side of the law when it came to her dealings with horses. That’s why she kept the details hazy! What better person to bring in on the side of the Dragon’s stable than one who already knew all the tricks of the horse trade, the lawful . . . and the expedient . . .

‘Well, Niniel,’ he said sitting back in his chair and taking a swig of his ale. ‘You seem willing enough, and able bodied. Uien and a friend it seems are taking care of the horses tonight. Why don’t you come to the stables early tomorrow morning and I’ll see what you can do, show you the routine. I have several things I must get done myself, and I could use a pair of willing hands with the horses.’

He chewed thoughtfully on the whole grain bread that had come with his soup. ‘One other thing – though I wouldn’t want to take more of your time than you can give. Once the horses are seen to, we need to see to the railing on the Inn’s front porch. There’s a section of it that needs replacing. Can you handle a hammer and nails . . .?’

[Esgallhugwen]

Lira's laughter sounded like a silver bird in the night, she denied being a warrior but said she would fight if need forced it. 'I am a warrior...but I also have some skill in healing when need calls for it and there are no healers about. I hunt as well, mostly the orcs and other dark vermin that still plague this land; I am a wonderer like most of my remaining kin are...' Esgallhugwen stopped short never willing to reveal to much about her bloodshed past and the burning inferno her home had become; she had slayed many an orc that night but could not save the trees and many of her people had perished.

A flash of silver light blazed in her grey eyes for a brief moment filled with rage; such betrayal was brought upon them by their leader, some knew him by Maeglhûg others Seregtal "bloodfoot" he crushes all those who oppose him leaving trails of blood wherever he treads; without mercy, he has never slain his own kin but sends Sauron's ors to do it instead. Lucky for all peoples of Middle-Earth Sauron's reign was never accomplished, he was destroyed in the War.

I am ever seeking refuge in case my father lives and is looking for me...if he knows I live and if so I must soon stop fleeing before him, he has no sway over me.Though he thinks he has power.

[ September 24, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[Lumiel]

Sitting quietly at her table, Lumiel felt lonely. More so than she had ever been. She knew how to handle being alone for long periods of time, but being with people and yet barely acknowledged made her uncomfortable. She laid no blame on the people themselves, she was a shy, quiet young woman who was unused to socializing.

Her mind wandered as did her gaze, but she came back into focus as she heard Uien's voice telling her tale. Her heart beat faster, here was a chance for her promise! She breathed deeply and exhaled. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps it is, and perhaps not. She looked at Uien and Lira, and watched them leave for the stables. Putting a hand to the hilt of her sword, she gained courage and followed them a few minutes after.

As she stepped out, she took a relieving breath of fresh air. She much preferred the open air to anything else. Glancing about, she saw the stables nearby and quietly made her way towards them with light steps, her cloak flowing softly behind her.

As she stepped into the stalls, she saw the two women and realized that they were in conversation. Bringing a hand to her mouth, she cleared her throat and looked at them with sea green eyes. "E-excuse me, I overheard what you were saying in the Inn Miss Uien; not that I was trying to pry into your business or anything it's just that..um.." she stuttered, pointing to her elven ears in explanation of her having overheard the conversation. With a pink flush in her cheeks, she continued. "You said you needed people to help you rescue this man, and I would be honored to join you. My name is Lumiel Rovalhir. I have some skill in herbs and such, and also in swordsmanship." she laid a hand to her sword, "If you would rather not have me, I understand, but I would be forever grateful for a chance..." she lowered her voice to be barely audible, talking more to herself than anyone else as she whispered, "for my promise."

She looked to the ground and shuffled her feet a bit, feeling very uncomfortable and foolish, especially since they were elves. Bringing her eyes back up, she looked at Uien with turquoise eyes that pleaded for a chance, but held a certain pride in them too.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Amarië rode up to the inn. It was her first time here; although she had heard it was a very nice inn from her friends. Her black stallion took her to the stables, and she dismounted.

'Thank you, Eärél. You have served me well along the journey. You may rest now, for I shall not be calling upon you to travel for awhile... I hope...' Amarië said patting Eärél's neck. She led him into a stall and took an apple out of a green pouch that hung on her shoulder. He ate it and rubbed against her face in thanks. 'Namárië for now, dear friend!'

The elf maiden left him and walked into the inn. She walked up to the bar and requested a meal, and then went back to a table in the corner. There was a small fire that was set ablaze across the room, and several people of different races scattered about to room.

A young hobbit brought her the food. Amarië thanked her, and handed her two coins as a tip. The hobbit took them graciously and scurried back into the kitchen. Amarië picked at her food. She could not eat, she was still upset. Setting down the fork, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small wooden box. It was smooth wood with deep carvings.

Someone walked up and Amarië quickly hid it under then her bag, which happened to be sitting in her lap. The young hobbit walked up and disappeared into the back hall where the rooms were. Amarië put the box back into her bag, and stood up. She walked outside, leaving her food at the table. She looked around to see if there was anyone, but no one was in view.

Amarië climbed an oak tree next to the inn and climbed up onto the roof. She sat under the stars, morning drawing near. Her stone grey eyes searched the skies as the stars still twinkled so far above. The moon shone down onto her dark brown hair, which ended at her stomach. She was wearing a dark green dress that draped down to her feet, which were covered by elven boots of a dark green. She wore a black coat, the hood down.

Amarië took out the brown wooden box. She lifted the lid on it slowly, revealing a white shining gem. It’s radiance was so beautiful in the moonlight it seemed blinding. She set the box down in her lap, and lifted the jewel up into her hands. It was like a diamond, and it looked so big in her tiny hands.

Something rustled in the leaves of the oak tree, and Amarië quickly stowed away the precious gem. She snuck to the other side of the roof, and ducked down low.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma slipped away from Doran and out the back door to the stables where she had seen Uien and several others go. As they spoke another elf came out of the door and went over to speak to them as well. When she had disappeared somewhere, Nuinyulma silently made her way to where Uien was tending the horses.

"Hello, Uien. I have an answer for you- I should be honoured to come though I fear I shan't be useful. I am no warrior." Uien smiled and welcomed her, describing her own reluctance to fight. Soon, the topic turned to Doran however.

"And you friend, Mr Deroder I believe his name is?"

Nuinyulma nodded. "I do not know his decision, although he is a ranger of Gondor and I think that would be useful on such a trip."

"Yes- a good asset to have. Well, let me know his decision soon for there is much to do before we leave."

She nodded and left Uien and the others. The night was cool and fresh as no clouds littered the sky. The stars twinkled and Nuinyulma thought about Lorien once more, the image was soon banished from her head however as Uien left the stables shouting to her good night. The brown-haired elf did not moved though but instead thought of the future and future journey- the journey on which she was travelling with others.

Alone and still, she stared there for a long time, not wanting to return to the hustle and bustle of the inn. The night was too peaceful to be missed.

[ElenCala Isil]

A fairly young maiden dimounted her horse and led it to the stables. She pet the mare and walked towards the doors of The Green Dragon Inn. Looking around, she then stepped inside. Immediately she felt more at home in the inn, which she had never been to before.

The maiden's name was Túrelie. She had deep golden-toned hair and wore a raiment of dark, dark blue. Bound at her neck was a cloak or light grey, which glinted in the light as silver. Her eyes were a bright green.

She stepped quickly to the counter and asked for a room, and a bit of water. Recieving her glass from a young hobbit, she thanked her graciously and quickly drained the glass. She then proceeded outside.

Túrelie made her way to the stables, and up to her dark mare. She pet the horse lovingly and whispered to it. The horse neighed softly as in reply.

She stayed outside a bit, looking up at the stars and the moon on such a lovely night. She saw something glimmer in the corner of her eye. She looked up towards the roof of the inn, where the glimmering was coming from. She thought she saw someone but when she peered up she saw nothing. She glanced down at the ring about finger, which had a similar glimmer in the moonlight.

Placing the hand with the ring close to her heart, she looked back at her mare, and then made back for the inn.

She ordered a bit of wine and then sat herself down at a table near the corner of the inn. She took a sip, then thought about her family.

It pained her so to think about her parents, for there was so little she knew of them. As a child her parents were always off, so she was left alone or with some distant relative. She felt as if there was a hole within her, where the love of her parents should have been. She peered at the ring once more.

It was a ring wrought of fine silver. She rotated her hand to see the design flowing around the ring. It seemed as if it were a moonlit wine wrapping around the ring and ending at the middle, where inset was the moon itself. A gleaming white jewel sat there.

The ring was the only memory Túrelie ever had of her mother. She knew that it was once hers. As she thought back at her childhood, it was difficult to even imagine what her mother looked like. The only other thing she could remember was the soft singing.

She gazed down at the ring which seemed to give off a mysterious gleam of light, though no other light reflected upon it. Túrelie looked up and decided to observe the happenings of the inn, and to get to know the inn a little better.

The inn seemed to relax her, and she sat back watching the goings-on merrily as she sipped her wine.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"One other thing – though I wouldn’t want to take more of your time than you can give. Once the horses are seen to, we need to see to the railing on the Inn’s front porch. There’s a section of it that needs replacing. Can you handle a hammer and nails . . .?"

Niniel smiled. The expressions that had flitted across the stable-master's face had been a bit worriesome for a moment, like he suspected something of what she wasn't telling him. But this question she could answer well enough and without having to try to cover any of her past. A hammer and nails weren't worth enough to risk stealing, and it would be ridiculous to try to carry away lumber.

"I-I c-c-can c-c-c-certainly try, sir," she chuckled. "I-I've w-w-wandered for m-m-most of m-my life, th-th-that I-I remember at least, a-a-and I-I haven't e-e-ever needed t-t-to use them. B-b-but I c-c-c-can learn."

She stirred her soup around a bit, dipping some of the coarse bread into it and lifting it to her mouth. She was careful not to let it drip onto the table; she had an idea that the cook would have her hide for that sort of thing. Especially if she hoped to work here.

I wonder if I'll need to do heavy work like Derufin does... she thought.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Amarië stood up. There was no danger, and she knew that. A small squirrel ran down the tree as fast as his little legs could carry him. She sat back down and watched the squirrel scurry away from the tree and into the night. She lied down on her back and gazed into the stars. Her mind began to wander.

She thought of her past. Remembering what she had left, what had happened, why she had left, a tear fell down from her eye and onto the shingle roof. She sat up and reached for her green bag. Out she took a letter, written in deep blue ink. She held it to her heart and then quickly put it into her bag. It was time, time to leave all of her troubles behind and live her life again.

Amarië took out the wooden box again. It was the one thing she couldn’t let go of. Without it, she felt she would die. Even though she had to leave her past behind, she couldn't leave this.

Slowly she opened it, and the gem began to sparkle in the moonlight once again. She picked it up out of the smooth box lining, and held it in her hands. Her grey eyes shone bright in the light, as white as the gem itself. She starred deep into it, as if she was hypnotized by it's blinding light.

Amarië starred into it for a few minutes. Then suddenly, her eyes widened, and she quickly put the gem back into it's case, and the case into the bag. She climbed back down the tree and landed with a very light thump on the ground. Putting her bag over her shoulder she made her way into the inn once more.

She looked to the table in the corner where she had sat earlier to see a familiar-looking maiden wearing a dark blue raiment. She turned away and sat at the bar, letting her hood down, as not to be rude. She ordered a glass of wine and sat in hopes to relieve her mind of her past.

[ElenCala Isil]

Túrelie was sitting in the corner, with her chair tilted back slightly. She seemed much more relaxed at the Green Dragon, watching everyone go about their ways. But when she saw an elf maiden walk by, she sat upright. There was something familiar about the elf. Túrelie felt as if she had known her, long ago.

Without knowing she fingered the ring about her third finger on the left. She looked down to see what she was doing and immediately stopped. She stood, and made her way to the bar where the elf was. Túrelie was sure she the elf-maid had seen her.

She had very little friends, and always kept to herself. But the inn made her feel so calm. Túrelie sat down close to the maiden and ordered an ale. It couldn't hurt to say hello, could it? She was sure she had seen the elf before. But where?

She looked down at her ring once more. For some reason, Túrelie couldn't seem to keep the ring out of her mind. There was just some connection tied into it. She could feel it, although she didn't know what that connection was.

Túrelie took a sip of ale, and pondered whether to talk to the elf or not. It seemed as if she was in mid-thought when the words came out of her mind.

"Hello," she said to the elf.

It was too late to take it back now, she thought to herself. She waited for a reply, wondering what the reply would lead to. She took a long sip of ale this time.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

The elf took a sip of her ale, and Amarië studied her face. She knew the face. Her heart seemed to jump, but then suddenly she remembered... she couldn't tell her...

'Hello,' she said softly.

She knew the maiden, but she couldn't tell... No she just couldn't...

Amarië took a sip of her wine. A worried look grew in her eyes, and she felt as if she were going to cry, but she held her tears and glanced over at the maiden once more. She was positive it was her. Taking one more sip of her wine, she looked down at her green bag, remembering the past.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin watched the careful way she ate her soup and bread. Her glances a little furtive, as she brought the sopped piece of bread to her lips. She was one, he thought, who did not like to be noticed doing anything out of the ordinary. One who drew no attention to herself if she could help it.

Her past, he figured, had made her this way. This is how she had survived her life on the road. What he wondered now is if she were ready to settle down and take on some responsibility to something other than her own survival. It was difficult, he knew well himself, to break those old patterns of self preservation and see one’s self as part of a larger picture. Where was she on that continuum?

It was quite dark by the time they finished their dinner. Buttercup brought them some sweet, ripe pears and a wedge of sharp Shire cheese to eat with them. Derufin quartered the pears, and laid them out on a plate between them, then cut thin slivers of cheese to accompany them. He popped one in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of the fruit against the sharp tang of the cheese.

Halfway through his third bite, he yawned widely and grinned at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stifling the yawn. ‘I’m not very lively company tonight. I’ll tell you what, come early – say just after sunrise to the stables in the morning. I’ll show you the routine for getting them fed and out to the exercise ring in the yard. Then I’ll introduce you to the tool bench and we’ll get started on the Inn railing.’

He called Buttercup over to the table, and spoke low to her, his glance drifting at times to where Niniel sat, apparently engrossed in her slice of pear – though he knew her ears were keenly attuned to the words that had passed between him and the Hobbit.

Derufin took his leave, saying she should stay and enjoy the rest of the pears and the drink. Buttercup flounced over and gave the Elf an appraising look. She scooped up Derufin’s empty mug and dishes and swiped the table where he had sat.

‘Best you eat up, Miss,’ she said in a friendly voice. ‘If you’re to be a new stable hand, best you get a good meal under your belt and a good night’s rest.’ She looked at Niniel and grinned. ‘And I’m supposing he wants you up with the birds to help with the horses, doesn’t he?’

Buttercup nodded her head toward the door to the kitchen. ‘You just pop in there before you go off to the stables in the morning. Cook always has a kettle of strong, hot tea and some of her breakfast pastries set out for the workers. Grab yourself a bite – once you get done with your main chores in the morning, then we all have a proper breakfast to see us through til lunch.’

Cook had stepped into the Common Room and was calling for Buttercup – something about dishes needing to be finished up before bedtime. Buttercup rolled her eyes, then winked at Niniel. ‘She’s as good a person to work for as you could hope for. Sticks by you through thick and thin. But she has her ways, Cook does, that drive you crazy. A stickler for detail and getting things done according to her timetable.’ Buttercup leaned in closer to Niniel. ‘Runs a tight ship, that one does . . . and everyone hops when she says to . . . Backbone of the Inn in my opinion . . .’

‘BUTTERCUP!’ The imperious voice of Cook cut short the Hobbit’s gossip. Buttercup winked once more at Niniel, mouthing ‘See you tomorrow!’

‘Coming, Cook!’ she yelled back, scurrying to her appointment with the last of the bowls, cups, and stray silverware . . .

[ElenCala Isil]

Túrelie looked up in surprise as the voice of the elf-maid called out to her. Her voice was so familiar. Túrelie said nothing for the moment, but sit, trying to match the voice to a voice she thought she once knew. She set down her mug of ale and placed her left hand upon the table. A beam of light shot up and in every direction, in every colour. But the one beam which called to her attention lead straight to the elf-maiden.

She strayed back into thought. She struggled to remember anything about her parents, whom she rarely ever saw. Túrelie could naturally assume some things about her past, even if something was to be hid from her. The ring, she had found it ages ago. She knew it was her mothers.

Now, now it seemed to Túrelie, that there was a new piece to the puzzle of her life. The elf before her. Inside herself, Túrelie knew that this elf could tell her something about her past. It was then that Túrelie had finally made up her mind.

She drained the rest of her mug and walked up to the seat right next to the maiden. Once again she fiddled with the ring, and this time she slipped the ring off her finger, and placed in on the counter in front of them. She slid the ring in front of the elf.

"Do you know anything about this ring?" Túrelie proceeded to ask.

The elf shook her head gently and slid the ring back towards Túrelie. Disappointed, Túrelie slipped the ring on her finger again. But she knew that the elf could tell her something, and she felt that the elf did know something about the ring.

Once more, Túrelie rose, and she walked outside once more. This time she sat close to the stables, where she could see how her horse was being kept.

She longed to be able to weep, to be sad, but she could not. All her emotions were inside herself, and she was unable to share them with anyone.

She looked up at the stars, and felt trapped. There must be some way she could find out about her past. The thought of living an eternity wondering who her parents were tortured her.

She closed her eyes and thought about the little she knew of. Softly she raised her voice and began to sing the song she had heard so often when she was younger. It was a sweet song, but Túrelie's version was tainted with pain and mystery. But as she sung, and focused solely on the song, it seemed to her she could nearly see her mother. But alas, she knew it was not so.

Inside herself, Túrelie sobbed. Forever she shed tears of pain. She had spent so long searching for any clue to lead her to her parents, but there was nothing. Until now, when she had reached The Shire. She made up her mind that she could not let this clue to her past slip past her. Slowly, she walked back inside the inn.

[piosenniel]

Please Note: the Day at the Inn is now ending -- all are going off to bed . . .
_____________________________________________

The dishes were done and all dried and put away in their proper places in the cupboard. The bowls, pans, utensils, and ingredients she would need for tomorrow’s breakfast were all laid out in a tidy manner on the counter top. All was done for the night . . . all was in readiness for the morning . . .

Cook looked about with a satisfied glance and, taking off her apron, hung it neatly over the hook by the back door. Ruby and Buttercup had been shooed off to bed, as had the rest of the servers in the Common Room. Aman, the Innkeeper, she had given a packet of willow bark powder to mix in branch water – another one of her awful headaches had come on and the poor woman was quite incapacitated.

Like a great ship on the ocean, Cook sailed out through the door to the Common Room from the kitchen, and came to port behind the bar. There were only a few guests about at this hour, and she nodded pleasantly to each one as she caught their eye.

‘Last call,’ she said in a firm voice as she motioned those who wanted one last round to come forward. ‘Drink up, my good folk!’ she called out to them as they came up, some for wine and some for ale. ‘Then it’s off to your own homes or up to your rooms.’ She topped off the wine glass of the pensive Elf and drew up a fresh mug of ale for the rather sad looking Elf who had just come back in. ‘You ladies drink up, if you will. We’ll be closing down soon. If you wish, you can take your drinks up to your rooms.’

She shooed the few Hobbit lads and the one gaffer out the door, telling them they’d best be getting back to their snug holes and families now.

‘And you Niniel . . . you should be getting to bed, girl . . . Buttercup’s told me you’ll be helping out Derufin. The horses and he are always up early . . .’ She looked the young Elf over closely. ‘Ruby and Buttercup sleep in the big room above the kitchen. There’s an extra bed up there if you need it . . . they’re both awake . . . gossiping, no doubt over the snippets of conversations they overheard today. Their eyes and ears don’t miss much!’ She watched as Niniel slid out of the chair and walked off.

‘Lights out, now,’ she said to the last few stragglers who were draining their mugs. Off home or off to bed.’

She let those out who needed to make their way home and gave candles to those making their way up to their rooms. Then Cook, locked the door to the Inn, and fastened the shutters, and made her own way to bed . . .

[piosenniel]

Posts following this one should reflect the dawn of a very early morning at the Inn.

The clouds have blown in from the West, and there is the threat of a summer thunder shower . . .

[Eggy]

With a soft push a broad red haired dwarf, opened the door of the inn. Fresh morning light beemed in behind him, pouring over his sholders and covering his due covered hair in a halo of sun light. "Ah so this is the Inn that i have heard so much about" he said to himself in a quiet mumble. Then slowly shifting his weight he began a slow periodic walk over to a table and relieved the weight of his huge bulk off his feet.

"Rest for now me thinks" he said almost in a whisper again to himself. Never looking up just staring into a small cloth which he held in his hand, he sat there counting.....

[piosenniel]

Early morning at the Inn . . .

‘Ah! The first customer of the day!’

Cook had lined the loaves of bread for the day like little soldiers in formation. Her currant scones and sticky buns were piled on platters, their sugared coatings glistening in the early morning light. The ham cut in thick slices, the eggs beaten to a froth in a large bowl were both waiting in readiness in the cooler. She had only to heat up the big iron skillets and call them forth. Pots of blackberry jam, and sweet cream butter, and Gammer Daisy’s fireweed honey sat on trays on the table near the door to the common room – they would be the heralds of promising things yet to come.

She had just taken up one of the trays with the spreads on it and stepped into the Common Room intending to put the pots about on the tables, when she spied the dwarf making his way to a chair.

Balancing the tray on her hip, she sailed over to see him. He was a large fellow, and she beamed at the size of his girth. Now here was someone who knew how to eat! A Cook’s delight!

‘Begging your pardon, Master Dwarf,’ she said setting down pots of jam, honey, and butter on his table. She waited until he had finished counting whatever it was he had in his cloth square and looked up, then she pushed on. ‘Welcome to the Shire and to the Green Dragon.’ Cook looked him up and down, smiling all the while.

‘How about a little something to slake your thirst?’ she asked. ‘You look like a little parched from your travels.’ He glanced at her, considering the question. ‘And how about a hearty Shire breakfast – we’ve eggs, and tasty Shire ham, and toast and sweet morning pastries to round it all out. What say you?’

[ September 26, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma yawned as the early morning sunlight gently streamed through the window. Late last night, as she had heard Cook's voice calling for the inn to close, she had slipped through the back door once more. After seeing that Doran was nowhere to be seen, she assumed he'd retired to bed and herself had climbed the stair to her small room.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and washed her weather-stained face. After finding a brush in her small bag, the elf brushed her hair while sat on the edge of the bed, humming quietly to herself.

A hungery ached seized her stomach and Nuinyulma sprightly hopped down the steps- the sleep had revived her well. There was only one other customer, a rather large dwarf, waiting in the corner of the room so she sat down to wait for signs of anyone serving. It was not long before Cook brought out a huge plate of breakfast for the dwark and on her return to the kitchen arrived at Nuinyulma.

"Good morning, Mistress Elf. What can I get you?"

"What ever that dwark over there is eating please. It looks delicious!"

Cook laughed and the room seemed to rumble in a pleasant sort of way. She was still laughing when she left the room, while mttering to herself. 'Well, well, well- a hungry elf!' Even the dwarf looked up- not for long though, he was too bust eating.

[Larien Lindorenan]

The sun was just beginning to filter through the trees as a rider rode up to the inn. She had been riding all night and she was sore and weary. She shook her head, telling herself to stay awake just a while longer, as she dismounted her horse.

Though the land around the inn was scattered with hobbit holes, the inn itself looked like an elf could stand erect inside. She hurried inside, eager to discover if the inn had any rooms available for a few days.

As she entered the inn, a maiden came over to her, " I am Aman, the innkeeper. Would you be looking for accomodations?"

" Yes, if you have room," she smiled tiredly.

" I believe we do. You are Ms...?" Aman asked.

" Nedieth. Would I be able to have breakfast here?" Nedieth asked uncertain.

Aman laughed," Of course. I will send Ruby over to get you something."

Aman turns and leaves as Nedieth sits down. She looked around. A few people were awake at the inn. She didn't know any of them. A hollow lonely feeling came into her stomach. She wished that she knew someone. She hadn't seen anyone familiar since she had left home.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Amarië left the inn and made her way to the roof again. She had to think over her worries. She needed the time to think them through. She looked to the West to see some dark clouds in the distance.

Taking out a letter from her green bag, she took it out of it's envelope and began to read it once more. It was about the maiden, what she could not say. Her heart tore, after seeing the ring she was even more definite about it being her. A drop fell onto the paper, but it was not from her own tears, a storm had grown near. She had felt it. Soon she would be drenched in water so she put away the letter and walked to the stables.

Reaching the door, rain began to fall. It clattered on the roof of the inn, and the dirt ground. Amarië opened the door and made her way in to think in the dryness of the stables. The white stallion had stomped his feet. He loved the rain. Amarië felt sorry for him, cramped up in a small stall, much like what she had once felt. A drop fell onto the dirt floor of the barn, this time not from the rain. She leaned against the wall and slid to the ground, sitting and thinking about what had happened. A lighting bolt popped outside, making all the horses and ponies go wild in their cramped stalls.

[ September 26, 2003: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]

[ElenCala Isil]

Túrelie looked outside. It was morning, and it had just begun to rain. A new day welcomed her. She decided to continue on her quest to find out about her past, as soon as she had eaten. She ordered up a meal, and moments later, Ruby came with a plate of food.

"Hannon le, Ruby," Túrelie called out as she gave the hobbit a tip.

As Túrelie lifted up her fork to eat, she saw a figure moving towards the stables from her window. She had a feeling who this might be. She simply could not let the only other key to her past slip by. Setting down her fork, Túrelie rose and walked swiftly out of the inn and towards the stables.

There, Túrelie saw whom she had wanted to find. The maiden was near the stables out of the rain. Túrelie approached her. This time she was determined not to leave without an answer, no matter how vague the answer may be. Túrelie was desperate for any hint to her parents, to her past.

Walking past her horse, she paused and looked at the mare. She seemed to watch the rain intently. The horse was alright, and now Túrelie set to getting her answers. She approached the maiden.

As she walked, the elf-maid turned to make a get-a-way, but Túrelie would not allow it, not this time.

"Wait," Túrelie called out. The elf halted, and turned to see Túrelie.

"Please, I know that you know something of my past. And you seem so familiar. Please, can you help me? My name is Túrelie, perhaps...perhaps you have heard it before." Túrelie was relieved to get her concerns with the elf out. As she wait for the reply, she looked at the maiden. She looked to be about the age, but seemed older than Túrelie. She had an aire of wisdom about her, and great knowledge. Túrelie was sure that the elf could be able to tell her something about her past.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Amarië looked at the maiden. A tear began to well up in her eye. She had to; she had to break the bonds that held her. She looked at the ring that sat on her finger.

'Túrelie...' she said, the name that she had spoken so long ago. She had to do it, she just had to. She would not let them win. It was time to tell Túrelie about her past. Even though Amarië was sworn to secrecy, she had to let that go, even though she may lose her life for it.

'I do know of your past, but I was unable to tell you. The gem you hold on your finger, I have the same one,' she took out the wooden box, and opened it, revealing the gem that glowed even in the darkness of the rain. She shut the box and took something else out of her bag. It was a letter. She handed it to the maiden, 'Here, this will explain it...'

Amarië turned and walked into the rain, placing her hood back onto her head, which was soon soaked from the drops that fell onto the dirt ground and splashed in all directions. Thunder roared in the distance. Amarië stood in the rain for a few moments, her head lowered and she felt a deep regret in the back of her mind. Who knows what this could lead to, but she also felt a sigh of relief. The bonds holding her prisoner had now been cut, and she only feared for her life, and Túrelie's...

Amarië went into the inn. The last thing she needed was to catch a cold.

[Elora]

Uien could sense the building of something in the scent of the early dawn air. Perhaps a storm, she commented to herself, and nothing darker. The evening before had proved an eventful one. Uien was overjoyed with those who had stepped forward and offered their assistance in finding Eodwine. She hoped that Falowik would as pleased as she.

Lira, Esgallhugwen, Lumiel, Nuinyulma all had made genuine offers, and Uien had earlier despaired of finding anyone. She'd risen early this day, filled with renewed vigour and hope. The horses had been seen to already, Uien all industrious activity after her neglect of the evening before. Her first thought had been of Falowik, as had been her last the evening before. Was he well? How did he fare?

She had sensed the storm in the air and hoped that it was not something else. A light shiver danced beneath her skin before she managed to get a rein on her thoughts. Falowik was well. He was a wanderer, skilled in survival. She shook her musings from her and bent her attention back to her task. She had yet to see Derufin and so waited for the Stablemaster so that they could speak.

Her hands were not idle though, swiftly weaving much like Uien's mind in the early morning. The herbs and plants she had gathered with Falowik the day before had to be separated, prepared and readied. She cleaned off dirt and stray material, tied and wove stems and supple branches together and proceeded to tie to a rafter where they would not be in the way. The scent of clean herbs filled the stable as she worked in a corner out of reach of hungry horses and ponies and not in the way of Derufin or Beren as well.

She hummed softly as she worked. It was a melody of the road, one she had heard her kin sing as they departed for the havens and one that had been sung around her when she herself had set off with a heavy heart. It rose and fell sweetly, a warding and well wishing for a road safe from darkness and despair and she sang it for Falowik, who was on a road far from where she stood.

Her thoughts ever and again circled. She was engrossed in her task so much that Falco Boffin's arrival was nearly unnoted by her.

"What's this business of yours then, Mizz Uien?" Uien managed to turn, a bundle of calendula in her hands, in time to face Falco and his question.

"You refer to the search party," she inquired, reminding herself that it would be better to have the Shiriff working with her. Falco cocked a brow but bit back his reponse about Elves playing the fool. Of course she knew what it was about.

"When do you think you might add a Ranger, or a warrior?"

"Those that have stepped forward have shown bravery not yet glimpsed in others," Uien returned. "They are not incapable of defending themselves." Still, Uien had to admit that a Ranger or tracker or warrior would be a wonderful addition to make. Perhaps a doughty warrior.

"I suppose you have a Great Hero tucked away somewhere then," Falco said as he noted Uien's thoughtful mien.

"Alas, I do not, Shiriff. Do you know of one?" Her question was genuine, yet Falco suspected some sort of Elvish mockery, the light, swift and fleeting kind they were so good at.

"You'll not find a Great Hero willing to do something as ordinary as finding a missing messenger, Mizz Uien, well we both know it. Not unless you have a great deal of silver tucked away." He took in her appearance and came to his conclusion.

"A fine company of Big folk you may have, but it will be me that finds the ones to get this done. Sensible hobbits who can slip quietly about without a fuss... Let me know if you find your hero. I'd pay a pretty penny to see 'im." Falco nodded with great satisfaction at his quip, tucked his thumbs into his braces and strode away.

Uien shifted the calendula in her hands. "I'll take any help that I can get, Shirrif," she said quietly to the stable, "provided that it is offered in good heart. I think, though, that you have already met a brave man who could be the hero you seek."

With a quiet smile, Uien returned to her task of hanging the herbs to dry a little so that they would keep longer on the journey.

[piosenniel]

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.

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:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn. (Played by Envinyatar)

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen NOTE: Piosenniel will now be writing for this character

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.
_____________________________________________


It is early morning of a grey, rainy midsummer day. Breakfast is just being served.

_____________________________________________

[ September 26, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ElenCala Isil]

Túrelie never expected more than just a hint, but something sparked in her when she saw the jewel. Now she had this letter. She opened it quickly and read the letters feverently. After reading it, she paused a moment and let what she had read settle in her mind. She saw the elf leave.

Túrelie finally had something from her parents, and it was even addressed to her. But something still wasn't right. It was addressed to someone else as well. Amarië. Could the elf-maiden be her?

Now when Túrelie thought that all she ever cared about was finding out about her parents, she suddenly had another mystery before her. How could she have not known about Amarië, and moreover, why did they choose to hide all this from her?

Túrelie made up her mind, that this letter was not enough. She had to know if the elf was Amarië, and if she knew anymore about her parents. She pondered how the maiden ended up with the jewel, which so resembled the one about her finger. Túrelie gazed down at her ring, watching the same beam of light illuminate from the jewel as did from the one the maiden showed her. But the ring was her mothers, could the jewel the maiden have be from her mother as well? So many questions flooded into Túrelie's mind.

The rain let up a bit, and Túrelie ran inside the inn, searching for the maiden here and there. She asked a group of hobbits if they had seen the maiden walked by. They pointed to the table where once Túrelie sat at. There was the maiden, sitting in the corner. Túrelie stopped for a moment, then walked slowly towards the table where the maiden was sitting. She took a seat across the table.

The maiden had a tear in her eye and began to rise, but once more Túrelie spoke.

"Please, you have been so kind to share this letter with me, and so many questions have been answered. But in likeness, so many have been left unanswered. If you will, I haven't even your name."
The elf sat down once more, and they both sat for a while, in silence.

[ September 26, 2003: Message edited by: ElenCala Isil ]

[Elennar Starfire]

A man approached the inn, on foot. He was tall, and his dark green cloak was pulled tightly around him, with the hood up against the rain. He walked as someone used to stealth, a friend of the shadows, but he did not attempt to evade notice now.

He opened the door, and pushed back the hood of his cloak. His hair and eyes were dark. He looked about the room, at the faces that, having looked up at his entrance, now returned their attention to whatever had held it before. He walked to an empty table and sat down.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Amarië sat back down at table. She paused. Where to begin? How should she explain it? There was so much to tell, and she was not sure if she should tell it. Her life seemed just hopeless. She looked up from the brown box she had held in her bag.

'My name is Amarië. What is it you would like to know?' She said. There was still so much to tell.

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]

[piosenniel]

Just to remind everyone:

from: The Red Book of Westmarch - the first topic in the Shire

No violence or fighting in the Inn or on the Inn grounds. Save that for your RPG's.

_____________________________________________

Please also note - it is still morning, and breakfast is still being served in the Inn. It is not yet noon.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ September 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

A fair sized crowd had settled themselves in the Common Room, waiting out the rain. Today was market day in Bywater, and the yard of the Green Dragon had always served as a place for the locals to set out their wares on trestle tables from the Inn and do their weekly trading. Some brought produce from their gardens, and some brought livestock. And some offered the cloth they’d woven, while others offered their jams and jellies and soaps and lotions. And candles, and paper and inks, buttons of wood and buttons of horn . . . all sorts of things needed and things desired.

Cook fell to talking with Celandine, one of the candle makers from Hobbiton. She was the one who supplied the Inn with candles for the lanterns in the rooms. Beeswax they were made of. A lovely buttery gold color with a clean, pleasant scent as they burned. She made the ones, too, that Cook liked to use when she candled the hens’ eggs to see how they were coming along. And the pinecones, dipped in a thin layer of pitchy wax, that were often used to start the bigger blazes in the Inn’s fireplace during the winter season.

‘Rain looks as if it could go on all day,’ sighed Celandine, her two woven baskets filled with candles tucked neatly by her feet. Cook eyed the baskets and then looked round the room at the other weekly merchants, most huddled over mugs of ale or hot tea, their wet cloaks draped over the backs of their chairs in an effort to dry them.

‘There’s no reason we can’t have our market day. No reason at all.’ Cook was talking to herself, but her voice carried to the tables near her, and Celandine looked up, her face creased in a frown. ‘Not in the mud, Vinca! Surely you are joking!’

Cook laughed. ‘No, not in the mud, you ninny!’ She motioned for those near her to gather closer. ‘Some of you brawny lads can arrange the long tables round the edge of the room. The folk here with goods to trade can lay them out on the tables and there’ll be plenty of room for buyers to circulate about and see what’s offered.’ She pointed to some of the young men, indicating they should get started on the job.

‘The rain’ll be good for business. Nothing much else to do but come to the Inn for a pint. The good folk can wet their whistles and replenish their supplies all under the Inn’s roof!’

Clapping her hands, she got the attention of the others in the Inn. There was a general enthusiasm for her idea and soon there a number of patrons busy arranging the tables as she’d asked, while others ran out to their wagons to bring in the goods they’d hoped to sell in the yard that day . . .

[littlemanpoet]

Falco made the rounds of the trestle tables, eyeing the wares, and eyeing other Hobbits; not to mention certain Elves that had a knack for getting on his nerves.

It was turning out to be harder to think of a likely Hobbit or two - never mind three - for this rescue journey than he had thought. Every one he turned his mind to had a livelihood he could not leave, or a hobbit lass he was a-courting and must not leave or lose her, or no interest in foreign parts at any road.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Falco turned to peer into Halfred's homely face and calculating eyes.

"What be you a thinkin', Falco?" Halfred watched him through half closed eyes, suspicious like.

"Oh, just lookin' at these candlesticks here."

"Rubbish."

"Now, why do you got to go on saying I'm talkin' rubbish when you don't even know what I'm thinkin'?"

"Your eyes are no more on them wares than a sweet smell on a dung pile. And your mouth ain't a flapping like I know it can. Means you're thinkin', and hard. What about?"

"Oh, very well then. I'm thinkin' about the recruitment of some likely hobbits for this here rescue of the Rohan man."

"And what be you a worryin' your addled little mind about that for?"

"Now, you don't have to go callin' me names just 'cause you wish you was deafer around me than you are!"

Halfred sighed audibly. "Falco, what do you care about rescuing this man? You brought that Falowik fella here out of duty. That's all you need do."

Falco's face darkened. "I got to find me some hobbits, or-" He didn't finish, his face reddening.

"Or what?"

Falco scowled. "Or it'll be nothin' but Elves!"

"Oh. I heard about your little tiff wi' that Elf lady. Well, don't you mind yourself about no rescue party. It's being taken care of. There's been word. The Master of Brandy Hall has taken it over."

"I heard. But I got to do this."

"You don't neither."

"Halfred, that Elf is likely to mess up everything, and somebody who understands her has to be there to keep her meddling in hand."

"And you're the hobbit to do it?" Halfred was chuckling. It made Falco angry.

"And why not me!"

"Because you have no sense for nothing but hobbit lasses, hearin' yerself talk, your favorite ale, good food, and obeyin' orders. And in that order."

"Says you. I'll show you."

"We'll see. I'm watchin' you, Falco."

"Watch all you like. Just don't order me to stop, if you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind. It's comical to watch you try." Halfred smirked, placed folded his hands behind his back, and strolled down the tables, and left Falco fuming.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma had finished her breakfast quickly. It was raining hard outside due to a summer storm so the market had been brought inside. The common room was bustling with hobbits mainly, selling and buying various objects.

The elf wandered round the room looking at various stalls. As she stopped at a hobbit selling candles she listened in on the conversation going on between the local Shirriff and another hobbit. It seemed to be about the journey to rescue the Rohan man. She picked up a candle and looked at it while still listening. Suddenly, the hobbit turned round and spoke to her;

"Will you be wanting that Mistress Elf?"

"Oh! N-n-no thanks. I was just erm, looking. Thank you!"

She hurried away from the table and both hobbits eyed her suspiciously until she was on the other side of the room. For about 10 minutes she wandered round the room without buying anything. Evetually, she went outside into the pouring rain to leave the looks behind.

The air was fresh and damp, the plants seemed to be laughing with pleasure as a break from the summer warmth. Eventually, she began to feel the water seep through to her skin and so took refuge in the stables. The horses neighed with impatience, wanting freedom from the enclosed stalls. Nuinyulma smiled and laughed with un unusual joy and taking out a small carrot from her pocket fed it to her dapple grey mare Lainniss. She horse took the food hungrily and quickly ate it.

Whispering a simple Elvish tune, she sat down on a stool which had been left there by someone and waited until the rain cleared up or she felt the need for some food- which ever came first.

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen awoke with the fresh scent of rain coming through the window, How she loved the rain in all it's power and it's beauty. She breathed deeply leaning against the windowsill. A faint smile came across Esgallhugwen's face; her grey eyes glistening from the dewy rays of the sun.

She folded up her cloak neatly and tucked it into her bag, heading downstairs to the bustle forming in the early morning. She pondered and ran through the events of last night, cathching the tail end of the shirrifs conversation about the party being nothing but Elves and that Hobbits were the ones that were realy needed. Stubborn little Hobbit she thought as she wondered around the room looking at all the wares, pots and cups, beeswax candles and all sorts of fabrics; Esgallhugwen was amazed at the skill that the Hobbit's had to weave such things of beauty.

Esgallhugwen took a seat and ordered some hot spiced tea and a pastry. Buttercup returned quickly smiling all the while as if she knew something no one else knew.

She thanked Buttercup, taking a sip of her tea. The shirrif giving her an offish look as if to say not another Elf, that's all we need right now is yet another Elf to go tromping about. Esgallhugwen stared back a strange spark came into her eyes Oh yes this is yet another Elf and you'll be seeing more of me very soon! she thought smirking at him.

Standing up, Falco gave a start and quickly spun around pretending to examine some candles but nervously gave a glance back to make sure the coast was clear and it was, Esgallhugwen went outside in the rain.

Once the door had shut, some Hobbits and others went to the windows to peer out whisperings began to emerge about such things as 'Elves are the queerest of folk looking up into the rain and with no cloak on, lyble to catch a cold'

They whispered a little more for fear that Esgallhugwen may hear them, but soon enough they went back to their business.

The soft pattering of the rain gave her joy beyond the pain of past memories. Birds fluttered down into the already small forming puddles, taking baths before the rain became too heavy. She listened to them sing, the tea still warm in her she went towards the stables.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman rushed in from outside, closing the back door quickly behind her, holding her cloak hood over her head with the other hand. Leaning against it, she tipped her head back against the smooth, polished wood and sighed, maybe from relief, letting her now sodden hood fall down onto her shoulders, her hair, left down this morning, unwinding freely with it.

She had sat it the barn for a goos half an hour, having slipped out with the excuse that she was looking for Derufin. In the high, dark, cool space of the rafters, the young woman was free to think with only the rain as a backdrop to her thoughts. She needed time alone sometimes, and her mind had had plenty to feed on. Hurt, stress, anxiety...these turbulent emotions had been embedding themselves in her brain for several days, until she thought they would threaten to take over entirely. Falowik's news over Eodwine had been a surprise, both welcome and unwelcome to the Innkeeper - now they had a lead on the trail of her kinsman, something she was infinitely grateful for, but something nagged at her mind:

Why had Falowik not said something before?

The thought worried her, no doubt, but she hadn't said anything. After all, Uien seemed truly happy, and the grimy, suspicious newcomer that had been Falowik had settled into a glowing, quite charming young man, and so all in that quarter was well. But still...

And their quest. What if it should fail? What if an ambush should take them by surprise, causing Aman to lose several good friends, including Uien herself and Lira? What if they didn't find Eodwine, or...no, Aman resolved she would not finish that thought. The rohirrim messenger was a fighter, one of her people to his bones, to his mind, to his soul; he would not have gone down. Of that she was almost sure. But still the unfinished, unanswered questions came from all sides...

And there was Pio. Gracious Vala above, there was Pio. So strong was Aman's wish to live up to what her glowing, organised, excellent friend had been to this Inn, so fervent was her wish to show her predecessor she was doing it right...but now Buttercup's comment, unwittingly insulting, not meant for Aman's ears came back to her from the previous day, the hobbit's whisper so fresh in her mind that the waitress seemed to be sitting on the rafter beside her:

‘Runs a tight ship, that one does . . . and everyone hops when she says to . . . Backbone of the Inn in my opinion . . .’

Aman smiled bitterly. Not talking of Aman, of course. Never would be, with a description like that...

Still, the quarters for Pio, Mithadan, and their as yet unnamed twins were looking every more splendid with each passing evening in which Aman would look into them. Ah the twins...Aman remembered with a fond smile the expressions of awe and wonder and puzzlement on their tiny, perfect faces, their amazement at the world and everything in it, and the smile of perfect love and the tears of happiness on Pio's face as she looked down at her babies, holding them at first as if she would never, ever let go of the precious, perfect, living gems she had given life to. As she had looked up at Mithadan, Aman remembered the love and wonder which they had shared, and the way he had come to her side, a smile creasing his usually stern face.

The love and wonder which they had shared...the thought brought Aman onto that thought, that feeling, that tenative realisation which had kept her going, its smooth, flowing song sweeping through the dischords of worry in her mind. In her mind, another face replaced Pio and Mithadan's, a younger one, grinning ruefully as he rubbed his head with a hand, yet from the end of his pale skinned chin to his tousled hair, and from side to side of his grinning, handsome face, this face seemed, in a different way, in that instance, to be every bit as perfect as Pio's twins...

The realisation of what she felt hit Aman once more as she sighed again, her damp hair warm against her neck as she still leaned against the kitchen cum back door of the Inn. The realisation which had come to couples throughout millenia and would continue into the mists of time, that Uien and Falowik felt, that Pio and Mithadan felt, that she felt towards -

"Penny for your thoughts, Aman?"

The voice shook the Innkeeper and she almost visibly jumped, her eyes snapping open as she looked quickly forwards, straightening up. Her green, startled eyes met the amused gaze of...Beren.

Flushing deeply, Aman hoped her colour could be put down to the rain, and she recovered as best as she could. "I...well..Pio!" She grasped this straw. "Yes, I was just thinking about how, um, how Pio and Mithadan, and the twins, you know, how they would, um..." she stopped herself, almost clicking hr fingers in frustration. So busy was she trying to hide her thougts, she had forgotten even to wish to poor boy good morning. Closing her eyes, she laughed quietly for a second, then opened them to see Beren was laughing also. Inclining her head, smiling ruefully, Aman started again. "Good morning, Beren."

"The same to you, Aman," the gardener replied, still grinning mischieviously. They hesitated for a second, before both beginning to speak at once.

"Will you-?"
"Can I-?"
"Oh, sorry, you first."
"No, really, I insist."
"It doesn't matter, I was just..." Aman motioned past Beren, through the door, and the gardener started in sudden realisation.

"Oh! I'm sorry I-"

"Forget it." Aman's voice was softer, calming, and she smiled at Beren again. This time he blushed, and in his case it could not be put down to the rain. Smiling back, slightly flustered, Beren stepped aside to let Aman float into the Common Room, where she barely even noticed Ruby, Buttercup, and Derufin studiously minding their own business...

[Jack]

Wyn walked slowly towards the inn. Éofalas frowned at the sky; the rain fell down on Éofalas’s light beard. Dark gray ominous clouds glowered down at the silent man who watched them. Wet and gray was the world, and the light storm trickled on. A light wind blew gentle sheets of rain and stirred Wyn’s tail and Éofalas’s long, pale braid.

Éofalas smiled as Wyn as he shook his light gray head letting water spray all over him. With all Éofalas’s hurrying they had been still drenched with the rain. Taking a dry cloth he rubbed Wyn down carefully. Then Éofalas rebraided Wyn’s dark mane. The gray stallion stood silent as Éofalas did his work. “Good boy Wyn,” Éofalas murmured.

As he worked Éofalas wondered if this was a good idea… I just need a few days. He thought. He had left Rohan to get a few days to himself. Now he was having second thoughts. Éofalas flipped his wet braid over his shoulder, and throwing his small pack over his shoulder Éofalas walked briskly out of the stables and towards the inn.

Breakfast is a beautiful word if you are hungry. Even more so if you have been traveling for many days and had only dry meat and a little stale bread. A hot breakfast would be most welcome to Éofalas, maybe even some ale to warm him first.

Éofalas stepped in the door and walked to one of the back tables and sat down. The warmth of the inn helped sooth his tense, aching muscles. Moving closer to the fire he sighed. He was beginning to think this was a good idea again.

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: Jack ]

[ October 15, 2003: Message edited by: Jack ]

[Elfwine]

A glint of yellow light and a curl of white smoke could be seen on the bend of the cobblestone path that led to the Green Dragon Inn. All was silent save the occasional flashes of merry laughter that seeped through the cracks in old walls of the Inn, and the clapping of hooves, echoing across the surrounding landscape.

Gloved hands tugged back on thick leather reins, and the massive stallion halted at the foot of the tavern. Patting the gray horse on the shoulder, the tall rider dismounted, boots slamming down upon the frost-laden dirt. Removing one glove from his left hand, he pulled back the heavy woolen hood that shadowed his face to reveal eyes of crystalline grey, partially veiled by a few wavy locks of rich brown.

Allowing a sigh of great relief to escape chapped lips, he turned towards the great beast at his side and clutched the dangling reins once again with cold fingers. Leading the grey towards the back fence, he loosely wrapped the strips of braided leather about one of the thick logs and turned on his heel, patting the stallion on the flank as he headed towards the front doors of the Green Dragon.

The young Gondorian entered quietly, hoping not to draw much attention as he wasn't in the mood for a great deal of excitement. What he longed for was a roaring fire and perhaps someone of intelligence to exchange thoughts with. In place of a roaring fire, he found a lapping one, and in place of one of intelligence, he found a cushioned stool. This, he decided, was close enough. Loosening the bindings of his worn cloak, he tool his place upon the sturdy joint stool and leaned forward to warm his hands atop the licking flames.

[Elora]

Uien fastened the last bundle of herbs to th rafter and stepped back, wiping her hands on her skirts. The rain made a soothing tattoo on the stable's roof overhead. With a glance around the stable and nothing more to be done, Uien thought she had best make for the inn.

She made one detour for the hay loft that had been her shelter for some days now and retrieved her cloak. It was worn and no match for a summer storm, but better than nothing. Uien fastened it around her throat and drew the hood up over her head with a sigh. She'd like nothing more than to dance through that rain, feel it fall clean and cool upon her face. She may have, had things been different.

Instead, Uien deferred to more seemly conduct. Falco Boffin would have a field day if he caught her spinning in the downpour and his pony was still here. There was no sign of a let-up in the storm and so Uien stepped out into it and cut a swift path to the inn. Even though she had chosen a more sedate option, a smile of pure delight curved her lips as she gained the covered front veranda.

The rain had nicely soaked her cloak and water dripped from the ends of her hair. Not so much as to make a terrible mess, but still Uien fancied Aman would be none too pleased with her creating a puddle on her clean floor. She peeled her cloak from her shoulders, shook it out and her hair also. Duly prepared Uien then entered the inn and found it a hive of activity.

A sale of some sort was taking place, people milling around the stalls or gathered at tables sipping on wine and ale. With sigh, for Falowik may have enjoyed this, she hung her cloak and pushed further into the press. A knot of familiar faces were gathered. Derufin, Aman, Ruby Buttercup, Beren all seemed preoccupied with something. She'd miss them, Uien realised with astonishment. She'd would miss them, and this was the first time that she had found herself facing that prospect since venturing beyond Lothlorien's bounds.

Even formidible Ms Bunce, the inn's cook. She'd miss them all. Uien glanced other faces, those who had joined her already. She smiled at each in turn, inclining her head in recognition and greeting.

A man stood by the hearth, warming his hands. Yes, a fine crowd had gathered at the inn. It would be a day of brisk business. Uien's damp hair would soon dry in the warm interior of the commonroom.

Ah well, she mused, the horses and ponies have a right to a dry place and you like the rain... She'd see to finding a place out of the rain for the mounts of those who would arrive just as soon as she found something to eat.

With that in mind, Uien started to slip through the throngs of people in search of food.

[Jack]

Éofalas sighed, hot food was so welcome. It was still early in the morning but Éofalas was tired. No one had see noticed him yet but he was all right with that. Noting the people around him he saw two new ones come in, a man and a young woman. She looked elvish but she moved before he was sure.

Finishing his food he wondered how he would get a room for a few days. Sighing he leaned back in his chair smoothing his rumpled green tunic. His eyelids drooped over his blue-gray eyes. The fire was so warm and even his chair seemed comfortable.

[Elfwine]

Hawk-like eyes shifted towards the double doors as they swung open once more, creeking warily as the young woman stepped in, her hair folded in an odd direction, as she had apparently shaken out the summer rain. A few moments more and she was lost in the crowd. And a lively crowd it was. The chorus of laughter and the raising of mugs brought a smile to the young man's face, and he let out another sigh; one of content.

Rubbing his hands together, he pulled them away from the fire and crossed his arms heartily, wrapping his fingers into the endless folds of his woolen cloak. Spinning about on the stool, he leaned forward again, this time facing the roaring throng of people. He wafted a cautious glance over the bunch, taking in faces; the woman's, and many others, then relaxed and let his ears concentrate on the merry music.

[Imladris]

Lira groomed Merkaliel, her mare, with care, the stiff bristled brush wiping away the caked mud upon the horse's cloak. Taking a soft rag, she vigorously rubbed the body and was pleased to see that the ebony began to glisten without the aide of sun or moon. A crash of thunder made her glance out of the stall to see the sheet of rain that came pouring down in a magical curtain of alluring enchantment. A fine mist sprayed gently upon her upturned face.

Lira smiled and, taking the Merkaliel's hooves into her hand, began to pick them clean with a bent hook of iron. She ran swiftly outside and stood in the rain, letting the drops wash over her until her braided hair was a soggen mess and her green dress clung to her scrawny legs. Water dribbled down in rivulets down her chin and neck, gently landed upon her closed eyelids, and moistened her lips. She outstretched her hands and just let the rain fall upon her feverish palms.

The music of the pattering rain coaxed her to join in the song, and she began a lilting tune of her own imagination, without words, as her voice mingled witht he deep bass of the thunder, and the pleasant harmony of the falling rain.

As she sang, her thoughts turned to the mission ahead of her, the one with Uien and Esgallhugwen, and the others. Lira did not understand those who could waylay the innocent upon the roads and murder the men of Gondor.

The thought that she could die did not enter into her mind, spreading the gloom of dark forboding, as she stood motionless in the rain. Here her youth as an elf was apparent: had she not survived the threat of the orcs, the fiendish minions of the Shadow? She would survive this as well.

Reluctantly, she returned to the stable and, crouching in the warm stall, she disrobed of her water saturated green garment and donned a blue, light dress in its stead. It reached to her feet and was girt at the waist with a small belt. Hanging the wet garment upon the stall to dry, she darted swiftly into the warm comfort of the inn and skipped merrily to her room to pack what few belongings she had to accompany her on the mission. As soon as the rain ceased, she would replenish her supply of herbs.

[Enif]

Enif gently carressed her steed as she left him at the entrance of the inn. "Now be good!" she said smilling. The animal looked at her as if he had understood her order, he bowed his head in obidience. It was a beautifull creature, with it's shinny black fur, and though it looked untamable it was a very sweet horse.

She walked in as the merry faces looked at her for a breaf moment and continued whatever they were doing, she arrived just in time for breakfeast. For a moment she watched the crowd, smilling faces, some still a little sleepy, the talking, the music, and the smell of food, all that lifted her spirit and a shy smile could be noticed on her face. It had been a long and lonely journey, now she could finnaly rest.
She took off her wet cloak and revealed her elven face, her honey coloured eyes, and her black silky hair.

Now Enif walked among the crowd looking for somewhere to sit, a little table in the corner of the room was empty, she sat and looked around in wonder for a few seconds, enjoyed the music and wishpered to her self "Finnaly..."

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: Enif ]

[Nurumaiel]

Hamson finished what was left of his breakfast and, picking his plate up, stood and went to the counter, where he handed the plate over. "Thank you for the excellent breakfast," he said. "Please tell the cook how much I enjoyed it." He began to turn, but then he stopped and turned red, shifting from one foot to the other and looking down at the floor. At last he spoke, though slowly and uncertainly. "Er... if you see Miss Melilot Sackville-Baggins, will you tell her I'm over by the stable and would she join me as soon as possible?" Then, grinning as though a great weight had been taken off his mind, he strode airily out of the Inn.

It was a beautiful morning. Or, at least, in Hamson's eyes it was. He wasn't sure what the others at the Inn thought of the rain, but he enjoyed it. The sight of the rain falling softly on the rolling green hills of the Shire was pleasant, and the feel of the rain on his face was refreshing. Pausing a moment till his hair was wet, he walked towards the stable, humming a lively tune. Deciding Melilot wouldn't want to sit out in the rain, he got under the shelter of the roof and sat upon the grass with his back against the stable, making certain he was in a position where Melilot could see him when she came out.

He had awhile to wait. Melilot was sleeping late that day, and it was a full hour before Melilot came out. But Hamson passed the time easily by singing songs, as well as composing some of his own. The latter wasn't very often, though, because his imagination wasn't as it was the day before (no doubt it had been exhausted from his tricks on Melilot). Thinking on his tricks of Melilot, he began to sing the following song, though not sincerely, as could be seen by the chuckles and rolling of eyes in between lines.

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
The purest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands.

"Ha. The ground on which she stands I try to avoid, lest she gives me a hearty punch," he murmured, grinning. Then, humming a little song he had just composed about the beauty of the Shire, his eyes lit up when he saw Melilot coming out of the Inn. A little frown came to her pretty face when she saw the rain falling from the sky and she seemed to be considering going back indoors. "Oh, Melilot, my darling, would you leave me?" Hamson cried with a laugh, jumping up. "Come here, cousin, I want to talk to you about something."

Her eyes rested on him and she called back. "I also would like to speak with you, Hamson. And, whether you like it or not, it concerns that hole."

"Oh, but that's exactly what I want to talk about." He jumped up and strode through the rain towards her, taking her hand. "You probably don't want to get wet, so run as fast as you can," he said. "I wouldn't like to talk in the Inn, for you might lose your temper and disturb the other guests. But the stable is rather quiet and I don't think anyone will mind over there. Now, one... two... three!"

He dragged her over the grass towards the shelter of the stable roof. She glared at him angrily, then sunk onto the grass. "Now, Mel-ilot," he said, hastily correcting himself. "I'm trying to figure out a way for both of us to be happy, and I'm coming upon something."

"Good, that's all I wanted to know," she said, standing up. With a fleeting smile at him, she turned towards the Inn and ran back. Glancing over her shoulder at him as she opened the door, she called, "Instead of worrying yourself over it, Hamson, why don't you realize that the only way for both of us to be happy is if you just give that hole to me." Then she disappeared inside.

Hamson stood up and stared after her, then he grimaced and refrained himself from kicking the stable way. "Why didn't she let me finish?" he grumbled, and sat down again. For the next two hours he sat by the stable out of the rain, singing songs and thinking about how to solve the problem of the hole... and not in the way Melilot wanted.

[Jack]

Éofalas stood and walked over to the long counter. He needed something to do before he fell asleep in the chair. Music and laugher filled his ears but he wasn't part of it. A spider resided under the lip of the wooden counter he moved away. Though he would never openly admit it he was afraid of the spider, all spiders. He wished often that he wasn't.

He could go to the stable and groom Wyn now he decided. No one seemed to see or acknowledge his presents in the crowded inn. It is just as well that they don’t, he said to himself but part of him wished he was back in Rohan.

Stepping out of the door of the inn he hurried across the courtyard to the stable. A hobbit sat near the stable door out of the rain. Éofalas nodded to him but he was grumbling to himself and didn’t see Éofalas.

Wyn acknowledged Éofalas approach with a whinny of pleaser. Éofalas began at the beginning and worked his way through his normal grooming pattern. This would take some time, and Éofalas was happy of that fact.

[Arveleg]

Sarn was pleased at the lady who served him a mug of ale, but none to go he understood. He sat there quiet, and after finishing his mug, slipped into a sleep sitting up, as he was so fond of doing at times. It seemed that much passed and the breakfast was being cooked when he awoke leaning against the pole by his chair.

"Aye, I will pay for a hearty breakfast, and also another ale!"

Sarn gaffed out to nobody in particular. He was ready for some food! He would be on his way to a hops field in the North Farthing this day, and he wanted to be full so his pack compliment would keep him going along.

[piosenniel]

Cook looked about the Common room with a pleased eye. Breakfast was being served in an efficient manner by the servers, while Ruby and Buttercup had the pouring of ales and wine and hot tea under control. The little market place along the edges of the room was humming with business and the exchange of news and pleasantries between those who had no chance to see each other during the week.

Celandine and her daughter were doing a brisk business with their candles. At a lull in the press of people to her table, Cook called her aside. ‘Save a number of those long, thick stubby ones for me. Some of our hens are getting old – just about ready for the stew pot. I’m going to have to see to hatching out some of the healthy eggs, and I’ll need the candles to check on them.’ Celandine bound a bundle of ten of the fragrant beeswax tapers with a bit of string and handed them to Cook.

Vinca fished in the pouch at her side for coins, but Celandine stayed her hand. ‘Let me have a broody hen and ten good eggs with her, and I’ll give you these plus the bigger candles for the lanterns for this month.’

‘Done!’ said Cook. ‘Come out and look the hens over now, and we’ll gather the eggs and candle them.’

Celandine’s daughter waved her mother off, saying she could handle the customers. Throwing their cloaks about their shoulders, Cook and Celandine
headed out the door, making their way to the coop under the eaves of the stable. They detoured into the stable first – Cook needed some hay in the basket she had brought to cushion the eggs and keep them warm.

‘Busy place!’ she remarked to Celandine, as they entered the building. There was Nuinyulma feeding a carrot to her horse. ‘Skinny little thing,’ thought Cook as she eyed her. ‘Be better if she ate the carrot herself.’ She waved at the girl and reminded her there was hot breakfast waiting in the Inn.

Esgallhugwen was there also. ‘So that’s where she’s got off to! I’ll just remind her that we’ll be needing her help getting lunch under way for the crowd.’ Cook spoke with the Elf as she passed by, saying there were plenty of meats and cheeses in the cool room and fresh loaves of bread. Platters of sandwiches would be easy to take round the crowd, and mugs of ale to wash them down with.

Lira, she noted was also there seeing to her horse. ‘Goodness,’ thought Cook, you’ld think they were all planning to leave!’

And there in one of the corner stalls was a newcomer to the Inn. From Rohan she’d heard from the server who’d brought him ale. Now what was his name? Eofalas was it? Pleasant enough looking fellow, for one of the Big Folk with his blue grey eyes. ‘Staying with us for a while?’ she inquired of him, watching his hands work carefully over his mount. ‘Had breakfast?’ From the corner of her eye she noted two Hobbits, heads together, wrangling over some problem, it seemed. ‘Hamson and Melilot! What a pair,’ she chuckled to herself.

[ September 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma nodded and smiled at Cook and the lady who was with her as they passed through the stables. Her horse quietly finished chewing the carrot and Nuinyulma was suddenly reminded of her journey that was to begin tomorrow. There was not much time left and she had so many things to do! She didn't even know if Doran was going to be joining them either. In fact, she wasn't sure even who was going.

As the rain battered heavily in the wooden roof, she listed names which had been mentioned; Uien (of course), Lira, Esgallhugwen, Falco- the shirrif and perhaps Falowik? She wasn't entirely sure.

Although, it was not long since her breakfast, Cook's reminder of hot food made her stomach rumble. She decided to go in and at least have some tea (and maybe a piece of toast). Then she must begin to poreapre for her trip.

All this food, was she turning into a hobbit?!

[piosenniel]

‘Well, now where has she got off to?’

Ruby and Buttercup had rushed into the kitchen to share their suspicions with Cook. But she was nowhere to be seen. Buttercup was dying to tell Cook what they had pieced together and now it would have to wait. Disappointed she plopped herself down in a chair to sulk a little.

‘No time for pouting,’ said Ruby, picking up the large teapot and a tray of mugs. ‘Cook will have our hide if we don’t get the customers served.’ ‘And besides,’ she said, handing the tray carefully to one of the morning servers who had come in looking for it, ‘if we keep our eyes and ears open, there may well be more than the little snippet of news we have now.’

Buttercup brightened at that prospect and stood up from her chair, straightening up her apron. Just as she did, Uien appeared in the kitchen, looking for a little breakfast. ‘Grab what you need,’ they told her. ‘We’ll be back after we’ve made the rounds of the room.’

‘What a jolly day!’ said Ruby, carrying a tray with platters of eggs and ham and toast and pastries. Buttercup followed close behind with pitchers of ale and wine and cold sweet water from the Inn’s well. ‘Keep your eyes peeled for Mistress Aman and that Beren. With any luck we’ll have more to tell Cook than we do now.’

The newcomer, Nedieth, was sitting at a table. ‘She looks a bit lonely, don’t you think?’ Buttercup nodded toward her, catching Ruby’s eye. ‘Let’s go over and say hello. She looks as if she could use a sugar bun and a hot mug of sweet spice tea.’ Ruby shook her head over all these folk who traveled so far from kith and kin. It was simply something she couldn’t imagine herself doing. She smiled sweetly at the woman as they poured the tea for her and made small talk for a few moments, urging her to look about at the market tables.

‘Oh, and look – there’s another one we’d better see to! Another Elf’s come to the Inn. However did we miss her? They introduced themselves and offered her some food. Lumiel was her name, she said. And did they know where Uien had gone? She wanted to speak with her. ‘The kitchen,’ they both cried in unison, ‘foraging for something to eat.’ They pointed out the door to Lumiel and sent her on.

Another new face hailed them, Enif, a dark-haired Elf just come in from the rain. A few pleasantries passed among the three of them, and they left her with a plate of food, a mug of tea, and her toes tapping to the music as she dug into her food.

Old Sarn was seen to next. Going off to some hops field he told them as they set a generous platter of eggs, ham, and toast in front of him. He tapped his mug on the table, and Buttercup filled it to the top. ‘You leaving in the rain,’ she inquired, ‘or going to wait it out?’ Ruby looked at her with raised brows. If he stayed, he was sure to drink them dry. The old gaffer had a hollow leg when it came to ale! And many a day he had won free drinks as he drank a challenging newcomer under the table.

Halfred came up as they were talking with Sarn. His mug was empty and he held it out to them with a smile. ‘Where’s Falco,’ they both asked him. ‘You two doing anything about that poor man who’s gone missing?’ Halfred sputtered in his ale, and made a few non-committal remarks. ‘Best we ask Millefoil next time we see her,’ remarked Ruby, watching him walk off. ‘He tells her everything, and she likes to tease us with news she’s gathered. I’ll bet she shows up soon, as soon as she hears of the market going on.

They wove their way round the room, stopping here and there to greet old friends and new customers. There by the small, crackling fire, warming his hands, was a young man. Handsome enough with his grey eyes and brown hair. ‘Looks a bit like Mr. Mithadan, don’t you think?’ whispered Buttercup. ‘Save he’s got brown hair and not black. I wonder if he’s from Gondor, too?’ Ruby eyed the fellow, now sitting at his leisure on one of the cushioned stools. ‘Oh he’s fair enough,’ she whispered back, ‘but not a handsome as Mistress Piosenniel’s mister . . . not by half.’ They stopped by him, and cleared their throats, wondering if he wanted something to refresh himself.

[AmiSelomna]

The door opened upon the rainy day, and a cold gust of wind blew in. A tall, cloaked form entered, soaked and shivering.

Slowly, Bethelarien drew back her hood, still shivering, gazing at the patrons of the inn. The Elf maiden approached the bar, and quietly asked the barkeeper for some ale, conscious of the gaze of many upon her. Unnerved, she smoothed her hair, trying unsuccessfully to cover her pointed ears, and finally giving up. She lifted her chin an inch or to, trying to show that she didn't care. Gratefully taking the ale offered by the innkeeper and handing her some money, Bethelarien turned. Shifting her sword at her belt and the bow on her back, she looked around for a table to sit at.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman excused herself from Beren as the first of a string of newcomers entered; the tall, handsome ranger-type, Gondorian from the look of him, and quite possibly a soldier by the way he held himself, despite his evident nervousness, swept up by Ruby and Buttercup quickly; Lumiel, Nedieth, and Enif, all three elves, all three entering seperately. The Innkeeper smiled to herself - it seemed most of the Inn's denizens were elvish even now. Even if Rivendell had the current title of the Last Homely House, The Green Dragon was surely not far behind it. Not to mention another man, his hair in a long braid, wet with rain, falling down his back. She looked more closely, and recognised the man as being one of her own people, Rohirrim, and she started towards him, eager for news of the land of the horse lords. But Cook got there first, taking his order for food as she passed quickly on her way to the kitchen. The day had certainly got off to a crackin start - already the Inn seemed busier than ever.

Another newcomer entered even as Aman turned towards the kitchen to get her own breakfast, and caused the Innkeeper to stop. The tall, proud figure, her chin held high as the eyes of the many customers flickered towards her, was nonetheless shivering slightly, her cloak damp and her hair dishevelled as she tried in vain to neaten it and to cover her ears. Another elf, hmm? But the soaked figure was so wet and the hem of her cloak slightly muddy, and Aman guessed she may even have been travelling without a horse in this stormy weather. She hastened over quickly, meeting the figure in front of the bar, where she ordered an ale. Aman obliged, and the woman smiled gratefully, murmuring her thanks, before turning. But as she turned, her cloak now unclasped at the neck and more open, one side wafted open slightly (and wetly), and Aman glimpsed the sword in her belt, and across her back she noticed the elvish bow. Raising an eyebrow, Aman frowned. She would have to get someone at the door again to avoid awkwardness in times like these, especially when Pio and her family arrived - she would not take any risks of that sort with the children.

Glancing around the Inn, Aman cast a longing glance towards the kitchen and subsequently her breakfast, before approaching the woman where she had now sat at a table and was struggling to remove her soaking cloak without drenching all those nearby.

"Here..." Aman lifted the cloak at the shoulders, letting the woman shrug it off and step out more easily. The woman smiled appreciatively.

"Thankyou,"
"No problem...?"
A pause. "Bethelarian."
Aman smiled. "No problem, Bethelarian." She held the soaking object at arms length, and made as if to go to the cloak hanger, before stopping as if just remembering something, clicking her fingers slightly. "Oh...and would you like me to take your weapons as well?"

Her tone was friendly, but there was a gleam in her eye. She hoped the woman would pick up on the fact it wasn't entirely choice.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma reutrned to inn and ofund herself staring at several new faces. A man (from Gondor it appeared) sat by the fire crouched over the flames, drying himself off, there was another two elf-maidens, a Rohirrim man it appeared and several others.

She sat near the fire to warm herself from the weather outdoor. Buttercup came over to ask what she fancied for her (2nd) breakfast and then left to retrieve her order. The man turned around and nodded in recognition of her arrival and moved slightly away from the fire.

"Good morning!" He smiled at her and signalled for Nuinyulma to sit at the stool opposite him.

She smiled and sat on the stool- another Gondorian man in the inn and some more elves. The Green Dragon was becoming quite a hive of activity.

"Hello... Mr? It is nice to meet you. I am Nuinyulma."

[Derakis]

Suddenly the door to the Inn opens. Some of the patrons shiver as the warmth of the building starts to escape through the open door. Fortunately, the new patron is consciences enough to step inside and close it quickly.

He is dressed in a travel stained, dark green cloak, clasped around the throat by round brooch with a white gem in the middle. As he reaches up to pull the hood away from his face, leather bracers can be seen on his arms. He has short, dark brown hair, and deep green eyes. He has a small pack on his back, along with an unstrung shortbow and about 10 arrows. At his side is a long silver sword of fine craftsmanship, in a black sheath. His tunic is dark gray, and he wears a black studded leather vest above it. His trousers are black, and his boots are of black leather, with a silver knife in a sheath on the left boot.

Stepping over and sitting at the bar, he removes his pack and places it beside him. He then waits for the bartender to take his order.

[pedingto]

Gwaraent walked towards the Green Dragon Inn with a spring in his step, and a tune on his lips. His brisk journey of two days from Bree had been completed without event. The stars overhead shone their silvery light down upon him, and this lifted his heart even more. He had felt drawn to The Shire. He had set out from Bree, where he had spent a few days doing odd-jobs for the locals in return for food and shelter. He didn't ask for much in return, just enough for him to continue his journey to The Shire, and ultimately the Green Dragon Inn.

His heart was given another lift upon seeing the sign of the Inn, knowing his immediate goal had been completed. Initially he hadn’t intended of ending up at the Green Dragon Inn, but after meeting a few folk from Bree who had recommended it as a friendly and warm place to stay, he decided that it was the place to go.

Gwaraent stopped a few paces short of the entrance, and admired the Inn. Feeling proud of himself to have come this far, and on his own no less, his mother would have indeed been proud of him. For the first time since his journey, he felt a twinge of sadness. He missed the life he had a few years ago, but after his parents had died in his twenty-fourth year; he needed to prove to himself that he could make it on his own.

Forcing a smile on his lips, he plucked up the courage to stride forth into the Inn. Upon entering he felt the warmth of the roaring hearth, the smell of the many intoxicating beverages and saw the hazy cloud of smoke from the pipe-smokers. He felt as though this had always been his home.

Gwaraent, made his way towards an open spot at the bar. He smiled at the barkeep, his smile as always beaming with enthusiasm and hopefulness. After he finally got her attention, he politely asked for a room for the night, and a refreshing pint of local ale. Standing at the bar, he let his eyes roam over the people and the furnishings, with every passing second he felt more at home. He felt the need to sleep in a warm bed before he hassled the folks of the Inn with questions about work in the area.

With that he retired to his room for the night, and slipped into dreams of happiness and prosperity.

[Jack]

Éofalas finished grooming Wyn and sighed. He was going to go back to the inn and get another cup of ale. This time he would get a room and probably sleep for awhile, maybe a few hours at most. A lady had greeted him, that was something. He grinned to himself; he hadn't been exactly social so far, after he had had some sleep he would be more social. She was an elf he had noticed; there were lots of elves around here. Were there any other men from Rohan here? If there were he hadn’t seen them yet.

Pausing at the counter to get himself a room Éofalas noticed again that elf that had greeted him in the stable. He gave her a nod which she returned. Éofalas decided to skip the ale and go to bed. Now!

Éofalas stepped into his room, it was nice, vary nice. Not fancy but clean and rather spacious for one person. He swung his bag down on a small table and collapsed on the bed. It had been five days since he had had a good sleep. The bed was soft... he was so tired... so tired...

[Elfwine]

Sharp ears caught the casual whispers, and large eyes shifted towards the group of two. Narrowing his steady gaze, he studied the little ones that'd approached carefully, but was quick to smile when he realized they were non but the taver-folk come to greet him.

The wan smirk faded quickly as he arched his back a ways from the hunched position he'd gotten used to. Straightening, he half-turned to face the young ladies, a curtain of yellow light pouring over his once-shadowed features. Long fingers curled into fists that disappeared behind the cuffs of his sleeves. Letting out a shiversome sigh, his undivided attention now belonged to those who sought it.

"'Afternoon..." He ventured after the short silence that'd overcome the corner of the tavern. His voice was soft, low as usual. He cocked his head to one side and awaited a reply.

[Enif]

Though it was raining, Enif thought it was quite a lively day, maybe because she had been taken buy the liveliness of the inn. Anyhow she felt a lot better, more relaxed, she even found her self whispering to the tune of some music.

She noticed two young hobbits carrying trays with mugs, tea, and food; always smiling, very friendly indeed she thought. They served the others tables until they suddenly were aware of her sitting there on the corner. The two hobbits came towards her and presented their selves, they were Ruby and Buttercup, they worked at the inn. They brought her a plate of food and a mug tea, excused themselves, and went back to work.

The inn was crowded, and to her surprise many elves could be seen their, she looked for a while at an elf that seem to pay as much atention to what was happening all around as she was, she thought he said 'Afternoon...' but the sound was overcome buy the crowd, so she smiled in reply.

Many men were there too, most of them seemed to her like soldiers and rangers from Gondor or horseman from Rohan. Enif noticed as a man in a dark green cloak with leather boots and a knife at the left boot came in, she smiled at him just in time for him to loose himself in the crowd.

She finished her breakfast, took her plate and mug to the bartender and thanked him.
Then, with a certain effort not to bump anyone or to any table, she made her way to stable, in the way she saw this man, apparently from Rohan in his way back to the inn, he looked a bit tired, still she smiled at him. Enif entered the stable and found Starmane, her steed, eating hay, when the animal noticed her presence it seemed quite happy to see her.
She spent a good time grooming the animal...

[Elennar Starfire]

A grey horse, bearing a rider wrapped in a cloak, walked slowly to the stable. The rider dismounted, weariness evident in her movements, and led the horse inside. She pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing golden hair and green eyes, and also that she was of elven blood. "Yes, Muinanar, now we can rest," she whispered as she stroked the horse's nose. She pulled up her hood again and went to the inn.

As she entered, she scanned the room as though looking for someone. She noticed the man sitting alone in the corner, and headed in his direction.

"You are Amryn?" she asked, as she reached the table, pulling back her hood again.

"I am, but I do not think I know you," the man replied.

"I am Úrúvanén, cousin of Lalmion. He asked me to meet you, as he is unable to come."

"Sit," said Amryn, "and tell me why Lalmion cannot meet me."

Úrúvanén sank gratefully into the chair Amryn indicated. "He did not tell me why, but he gave me this, and told me to give it to you," she said, holding out a letter. Amryn took it and began to read.

[Elora]

As Uien sat at the table in the kitchen, finishing a slice of Cook's warm, malty bread laded with butter and honey, she turned something over upon the table top. It was a small thing, a triffle, and yet more. The small brooch was cleverly crafted. Silver and gold wire twisted into the shape of a star by dwarven hands. The wires clasped a clear green stone that flashed in the soft, water logged light of the morning.

She'd carried this small brooch so far on her travels, tucked in her pouch. Well she remembered the day she had been given it. It was the day she had stepped out into the world once more, seeking kin she had been sundered from by icy storm and the terrible orc pits. The Dwarves that had found and then sheltered her as she recovered had gathered to farewell their Elvish guest.

Most were silent, watching in their canny way. Some cleared their throats from behind their thick beards and shifted their doughty weight. One had stepped forward and smiled up into her face. "As in the time of our fathers, we give you this. Carefully worked by our craftsmen, it is a sign of the friendship between you and our people." There had been murmurning at that. Friendship between Elves and Dwarves not all believed in.

"Keep it with you and you will known by our folk. Our fires and beer and halls we will share with you. May your road lead you to many riches and good fortune, Uien." Then he had bowed deeply as Uien held the proffered brooch. It had been hard to know what to say. Part of her wished to remain under the mountain, hidden in the dark fastness of their halls. Part of her wished for the freedom of the endless sky, the twilight.

"My fires, halls and succour are at your service also. Namárië," Uien had offered in return simply. There was some more muttering at her use of Elvish. Uien expected that reaction and said nothing of it, as she had done so through her long recovery. The Dwarves had never taught her their tongue and so she could only honour them with her own. Then, with brooch in hand, she had turned away from the mountain and started to make her way down it and into the lands beyond.

At the time she had never thought to be sitting in the kitchen of an inn at Bywater, contemplating trading it for supplies. Uien closed her hand around it and stood. She rejoined the bustle of the commonroom with her decision made. She'd trade everything she owned if it helped Falowik find Eodwine.

She made her way to a table where a Hobbit sat behind baskets and began. She had to buy bread, dried meat and fruit. Candles would also be of use, rope too. Once she had the necessary supplies, she'd then arrange to purchase a horse, if possible. The first Hobbit she approached looked at the dwarven brooch in astonishment. He scratched his head, as if determining whether he'd accept it.

Uien recalled the hobbit love of all things unusual and made a last ditch at coming to an agreement.

"It would make a fine mathom," she suggested. "There are few in all the world who have these, if I do not miss my guess." Uien was relatively confident of that statement. Afterall, Dwarves were not in the business of offering up their halls to any who wandered by their mountains. At the mention of the word mathom, added to what Uien had said of it's dwarven origins and its significance between the ancient races of Elf and Dwarf, the hobbit's deliberation ceased.

With a smile, he extended his hand and Uien dropped the brooch into it. It was like a break with her past. "Now, it was breads you was after? I don't have non of that Elvish stuff.... lembas is it? But I have plenty of good ground wheat and cracked corn grown here in the Shire and made into fine bread."

And so it began. Uien moved through the table, adding to her supplies until she had enough as best she could guess. Her pouch was significantly heavier than when it had been with the brooch. Silver and a few gold coins were left. Uien balanced her parcel of supplies on her hip.

"Pretty little trinket you gace away back there," Falco said from behind her. Uien turned to him with her reply, "Trinkets are of no use when out in the wilds without food. Hardly sensible." She smiled faintly at him, recalling his insistance that sensible was what Eodwine's rescue party had to be. Falco snorted and crossed his arms, peering up into her face.

"So you give away a rare Dwarven brooch for supplies for this Elvish riding party, all for Falowik and one lost Rohan messagener whom you've never met. He may not even exist? Falowik could be making this all up, or he murdered him and took his pack. Sensible..."

Uien's grip around her bundle tightened as the Shiriff came to his conclusion.

"I would trade my family's wealth, my father's sword, on no more than Falowik's word and the life of even a Shiriff of Bywater, and I have met you and should think better of such an arrangement!"

Uien forcibly relaxed her tightening grip on her newly purchased supplied. Falco Boffin was very close to having bread and quite a few other items dropped on his head and it seemed he caught some sense of this.
The Shiriff stepped back. Perhaps after she had tossed the bread slices at him yesterday over lunch he knew what to look out for.

"You wouldn't need to," Falco said triumphantly. "I don't go about getting myself lost." With that, Falco sauntered off, pleased to have gotten one better than Uien for a change. She let him go, muttering to herself, "Pity." Halfred, who had witnessed the exchange with avid interest, grinned widely as he took in what Uien had replied.

Uien was determinedly gazing out a window at the rain that fell. Outside were a growing number of ponies and horses. She sighed in frustration with herself. She had no time for this sort of ill-tempered bickering with a Shiriff. Uien found an out of the way spot to tuck her well wrapped provisions in the kitchen and got about her duties. She left, snagging her only just dry cloak from its peg by the door and venturing out into the rain.

Before long, Uien was beyond damp. She paid no heed to the summer rain as she saw each horse and pony to a dry stall, rubbed it down and ensured it had ample straw and grain before seeing to the next. As she worked, Uien thought about her words and a smile came to her face. Imagine if she had sold her father's sword for this. She would do so without compunction. She could hear the outcry now. "But why, Uien?" Uien knew her reply.

"Beacause without a sword you cannot go to be killed in battle father, and there is Falowik Laureätan." In the downpour, Uien began to hum lightly, heart light with that realisation. How much she would have liked for her family to meet this man. Her mother would have understood, Uien knew. In time, so too would have her father and brothers. They would have seen how happiness welled forth beyond the shadow of her past to shine undiminished once more and that would be enough for them as it was for her.

In the stables, horses newly stalled steamed in the warm dry air and champed on their feed as Uien came and went, humming all the while.

[piosenniel]

Buttercup watched as the man cocked his head to one side. ‘Why he looks a bit like my Uncle Willem’s pet crow,’ she thought to herself. ‘It’s his eyes. Yes, that’s it. He’s got us in his sight like some interesting bauble, and he’s keeping his eye on us.’ She shivered just a bit, and looked away. That crow had always made her a little uncomfortable, as if it were sizing her up and had found her wanting.

Her pursuit of these thoughts was cut short as Ruby stepped nearer the man, and curtsied, a smile of welcome on her face. ‘Begging your pardon, sir, but we’re just serving second breakfasts and noticed you’ld come in.’ She grabbed Buttercup by the elbow and pulled her forward. ‘This is Buttercup. And I’m Ruby. And if there’s anything you’re needing in the way of a meal to fill an empty belly, or a drink to soothe a dry throat, or a room to rest in . . . well, then, please . . . let us know. We’d be happy to accommodate.’

She pinched the silent Buttercup on the back of the arm. The young Hobbit’s cheeks crimsoned and she curtsied, too, raising her eyes to meet the man’s grey ones. ‘Well, perhaps I’ve got it wrong,’ she reasoned, seeing the hint of a smile on his face. ‘Or not ,’ she continued, seeing the brief smile fade. She squirmed a little under his steady scrutiny.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she spoke up. ‘Cook’s made a grand breakfast, sir,’ she said, gathering confidence as she rattled off the offerings. There were eggs, scrambled with herbs from the Inn’s garden; thick slices of ham from Hobbiton; whole grained bread made that morning, toasted to a just right crispness; sweet cream butter, and Cook’s own jams, thick with the bright memories of summer – sweet-tart gooseberry and honeyed plum. ‘And honeyed buns, sir,’ she went on, ‘with currants and nuts all through them.’

Ruby chimed in with the offering of drinks – ale, and wine, and sweet-spice tea. And milk, too, if that was what he wanted.

Breathless after their recitation of the menu, the two Hobbits stood with expectant expressions on their faces, waiting to see if something had struck his fancy. Buttercup’s gaze dropped down to where his hands might have been, had they not been nearly hidden in the depths of his shirt cuffs. ‘What’s he hiding,’ she wondered to herself.

A moment of boldness assailed her, and she looked back up at his face. ‘We can’t keep calling you ‘Sir’,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit awkward, and, well . . . unfriendly like. You’ve got our names now, haven’t you? So, now, what should we call you?’

[Jack]

A tall man cloaked in dark grey slipped off his horse and walked quickly up to the inn. Inquiring of the barkeeper the man walked up the stairs towards Éofalas’s room.

Éofalas woke with a start, someone was pounding on his door rolling out of bed Éofalas hit the floor, hard. "Ouch… how long have I been sleeping?" Éofalas moaned to himself. He couldn’t remember sleeping so hard since… oh a long, long time. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he opened the door.

“Thendrul!” Éofalas gasped. “So good to see you.”
“I wish I could say the same…” Thendrul said, a note of sorrow in his voice. “You look tired my old friend.”

“Yes I am I admit, but what brings you here of all places?” Éofalas asked.

Thendrul stared at him with his pale grey eyes. “Your grandmother wants you... Will you come back?"

Éofalas frowned his own blue-grey eyes meeting Thendrul's. "No... no not yet, not now." Éofalas sighed heavily.

"I didn't think you would... I told the poor lady so, comeing up on her sixty-eighth winter is it not?" Thendrul said sadly.

Éofalas nodded, "Give her my greetings and say I will come in a few weeks, perhaps..."

"She said to give you this," Thendrul pushed the ring into Éofalas's hand and turned abruptly and walked quickly down the hall.

Éofalas stared after him. Then he started after him, “Thendrul, Thendrul wait…” He dodged various people in the main room of the inn. “Thendrul…” By the time Éofalas reached the courtyard Thendrul was gone… Éofalas heard the sounds of Thendrul’s horse as it galloped away from the inn.

The rain pored down on him as he stared at the ring in his hand. It was silver, to dragons entwined around it, worked into the precious medal. To golden gems twinkled in the dull light.

Was it his imagination or did the rain begin fall harder. Turning Éofalas climbed the steps and went back into the inn. He felt tired again, but denying himself the right to return to his room he ordered some ale and sat out of the way to observe the people around him.

There seemed to be a market in the large room. Stalls lined the wall as hobbits, elves, and men milled around them. He saw a stall of candles; he could us one or two of the big drippy ones. Standing he made his way over to the stall.

[Carlas]

Athril walked slowly into the inn, as a smile crept upon her young face, feeling the sweet warmth of the hearth for the first time in what felt like ages. She stood for awhile just looking around the old inn, remebering.

She strode silently over to a small table by the fire, recognising only a few faces. It had been so long since she had been here, and there were so many new people and things, but it still felt the way it used to, warm and welcoming. She doubted that many would remeber her, only a few close friends who she had already gone to chat with for awhile, she had always been a bit shy.

She sat for a long time, looking around at the small inn and its many other patrons. She had missed this place, it had ment a lot to her, it was pratically home. She didn't feel like getting a room, though she was wiery from her long journey home, she had come a long way, and didn't want to leave it, even for sleep, just yet.

[Derakis]

Taking another glance around he decides that this place is friendly enough. He runs his hand through his slightly damp hair and considers the Inn's occupants.

The first thing he notices is the unusual number of Elves. "I thought they had all gone West, except for our Queen of course." He concludes that they must be on their way to the Havens.

He notices nothing else out of the ordinary. Waiting for one of the barkeeps to serve him, he proceeds to play with a silver ring with a large red gem in the middle on his right ring finger.

[Lumiel]

A new light seemed to be in Lumiel since Uien had consented to let Lumiel come with her. She smiled and laughed at the antics of the fellow patrons, and felt her first remembered joy with other people since the shadow that lay all to recently in her past.

Yet, she thought still about what she had agreed to do, and made sure to keep her things, few though they were, ready and packed for the time when they would depart. She had also noticed a hobbit, Falco, who seemed a bit uppity to Uien, and she wasn't sure why. Curious about this, and concerned of other matters, she left the dry warmth of the Inn and stepped out into the refreshing summer rain and into the stable, where a pleasant moist feeling permeated.

Uien was busying herself in the stables, as Lumiel had discovered was her habit. "Uien?" she spoke softly with a youthful voice and wide eyes, catching the woman's attention. "I was just wondering...I have no horse to travel on, do you know who I could buy a horse from? I have enough money for that." Lumiel nodded her head slightly as Uien told her and paused, uncertain about whether to ask or not, but her curiosity won over. "Uien, that Falco, why does he harass you so? I guess I'm a little confused about why he acts like that. If you don't want to explain, I understand..." she said, yet her eyes showed her eagerness to know.

[Enif]

Enif finished grooming Starmane, the rain was still falling. She went back to the Inn where, for her surprise more elves had arrived, or at least she hadn't seen them before. A young maiden sited buy the fire alone and a blonde maiden sited in the company of a man. The elf who bore a silver knife on the left boot now bore a silver ring with a red gem, and was sited alone also. Jus as she gave two or three steps she noticed a yellow light coming from the window, the rain had just stopped.

She thought to herself that now would be a good time for another mug of tea, thought she couldn’t see a free spot except for one place in the bar. She sited buy the bar, just next to her was the man she saw leaving the stables, he looked worried. Now he also bore a ring, Enif overheard the bartender when she brought him his ale: ‘Here you go… Éofalas right?’ ‘Yes, thank you…’ he replied, she to took the chance to ask the her for another mug of tea. A few seconds after the bartender left Enif turned to the man and said shyly ‘Good morning. It’s quite a pleasant morning isn’t it… Erm… Éofalas is it?’

[Elora]

Uien's smile for Lumiel paused as the young woman asked her question. She stiffled a sigh as the rhythmic drumming of the rain on the stable's roof slowed and then ceased. Her expression was rueful as she did her best to explain matters concerning the Shiriff and herself.

"There is a difference of opinion between Falco and I that brought us to open disagreement. I my haste and anger, I gave voice to my opinions. It concerned Falowik, who is not as dubious or nefarious as the Shiriff would have us believe.

"I see a different man, and so would any who cared to look. I voluteered my services as a healer then and there and set about to aid Falowik in gathering together a search party for Eodwine. The Shiriff thinks I am meddling where I do not belong and I seem to be unable to hold my tongue where he is concerned."

There was regret in Uien's voice, for she was not ordinarily disposed to such open disagreement. It was only that Falowik meant so very much to her that she seemed to come out with her sword drawn every time Falco Boffin mentioned him. She tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear and smiled at Lumiel once more.

"My work here is done for the time being, and I too have need of a horse. Let's see who we can find," she said in a change of tack. Lumiel nodded, uncertain still.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to pry," she said apologetically. Uien shook her head gently and waved the concession away.

"Lumiel, you have nothing to apologise for. I intend to do what I can to rememdy matters between myself and Falco before we reach Bree, even if it means tying my scarf around my mouth to stop any retorts that seem to leap from it. It is the least I owe those who travel with me... and Falowik. Such dischord is of little use to any but Eodwine's captors.

"Let's see if we can find a man about a horse," Uien finished with a trace of humour. She had heard such expressions used amongst mortals before and Lumiel responded with an amused smile of her own. The two stepped out into the brightening day, Uien wondering about how to make amends with the stubborn hobbit Shiriff and Lumiel wondering just who this Falowik was.

[ElenCala Isil]

Túrelie gasped when the Amarië told her name. Then all her assumptions were correct, Amarië could tell her of her past. Where to start, Túrelie wanted to know, everything. Why was she kept from all this.

"Then it is you, but tell me, Amarië. Why was this letter also addressed to you?"

Túrelie looked upon Amarië, who was looking down at the box containing the jewel. She wondered how the jewel came to her. So many things to be answered, and yet Amarië would be reluctant to tell. Túrelie knew she would have to read between the lines, but she didn't care. At long last she would know about her family, about her past!

[Elfwine]

'"Unfriendly like"...' He thought to himself as the two babbled on, one after the other nervously. Letting out an inaudible sigh, he came to his senses and put on the best smile he could come up with; a small one that barely raised either side of his mouth. Even so, his hard gaze softened, and the icy gray that once drilled holes into the air melted into the calming waves of the sea after a storm.

Nodding after each was finished, he stiffled a chuckle as they stepped back, a bit out of breath. Crossing his arms, he cast his gaze downwards momentarily before raising it to rest it lightly upon the little ones. "My humblest apologies, little Miss Buttercup." He said in his smooth voice, afterwards nodding to the other hobbit in acknowledgement. "You may call me Auryn." -he paused reassuringly- "And I'm afraid I've not the biggest appitite, but I could use a pint to rid myself of this chill."

[ September 30, 2003: Message edited by: Elfwine ]

[Esgallhugwen]

The rain let up, Esgallhugwen frowned as the clouds began to part. She had climbed into the tree in the front watching all the new guests pass by into the Inn without so much as noticing her, being an Elf and all, it was customary to be stealthy and cunning.

Many Elves she noticed had come in as well as some men that were perhaps from Gondor or Rohan, it was hard to discern with their faces shadowed by their hoods from the rain. The green crystaline leaves of the tree began to melt with the coming rays of the sun; brining forth brighter green.

Esgallhugwen smiled at the leaves still holding within them the remnants of the sound of rain. She dropped down gracefully from the tree and went into the Inn.

People in the Inn stared agast at the tall wet yet beuatiful figure, as if she emerged from the very sea glistening with dew. Cook spoke to her of getting lunch ready, but not wanting the sandwiches to become soggy she stepped across the treshold towards the fire to dry off.

[Elennar Starfire]

Amryn finished the letter and laughed. "It is nothing so serious, just a few orcs that needed dealing with. I must admit I was I bit worried at first."

An expression of anger and annoyance came to Úrúvanén's face. "So that is why I was sent. I am never allowed to fight, every time there are a few orcs to deal with, there is something else I must do. I have skill equal to Lalmion, yet I am sent away. Will I never have a chance to show that I am not a silly girl, who would flee at the first sign of trouble?"

She stood up, and hurriedly went out to the stables, not wanting anyone to see the tears in her eyes.

[piosenniel]

‘A pint it is, then, Master Auryn!’

Buttercup managed a smile of her own, and ran to fetch him a foaming mug of nut brown ale. ‘That’ll warm you down to the hair on your toes!’ she said, presenting him the pint; then blanched as she realized what she’d just said. With all the Big Folk passing through these days, it was hard to remember what was polite to them and what was not. She hoped she hadn’t offended him.

‘Best not to back track,’ she thought. ‘It will just get more tangled.’

With a quick nod to him, she raced off after Ruby, who had drifted on to another group of hungry and thirsty customers . . .

[Arveleg]

After a hearty breakfast and an afterward smoke, Sarn saw that the rain had paused.

"I will be on my way now. What do I owe you?"

He settled with the innkeeper, and he went for the door. The fresh rain-washed summer air felt good, but as the summer sun started to warm the lands, the humidity started to rise. It will be a good day to walk the fields of the North Farthing.

[Derakis]

Derakis was lost in thought. It had been a long road from Gondor, and dangerous, even in these "peaceful" times. Orcs and evil Men will still abroad though slightly less active then they were during and before the War. How long had it been since he had seen Minas Tirith? A year? More?

Coming out of his revere he noticed one of the hobbit girls was taking orders from a group near him. He caught her eye as she looked in his direction. "Just some milk, and some bread, please."

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman did a quick calculation and replied to Sarn's question, at which the man looked rather relieved, before taking his leave with a nod and a smile as he stepped out into the 'bracing' day outside.

Well, at least the rain has abated a bit, the Innkeeper mused, craning to look outside. The rain had slowed somewhat from the heavy, tumultous dowpour it had been before, but not so much that it mizzled miserably, instead coming down in a steady, clean shower that expressed the very meaning of 'I can go on like this all day'.

Aman winced as she heard Ruby promising that the pint of ale she had served up to the secretive looking Gondorian - and she was by this time sure he was of Ithilien - in the corner would 'warm him down to the hairs on his toes', then saw uby almost visibly wince as well before politely but hastily taking her leave, leaving a bemused customer behind her. What was it he had said his name was? She had quite missed it...catching his eye accidentally, Aman met the young man's gaze with a small smile and a nod, and was replied, after a second, by a similar nod and the mere ghost of a smile. That'll do for me...

Seeing another customer near the Gondorian's table trying to catch Ruby's attention, she moved over towards him herself, coming up from the direction his eyes were not.

"Beautiful little trinket you've got there," she murmured to him close by. He turned, a look of what might become outrage on his face, before he saw the hint of a knowing smile on Aman's face as she winked at him.

"Ah, yes, it's..." he paused for a moment, twisting the ring in his fingers so it caught both the warm, deep light of the fire and the clear, steady light from outside. Like catching two sides of a personality...the man seemed to catch himself as Aman's mind inadvertently produced this thought, slipping the ring on his finger and smiling up at the young Rohirrim innkeeper. "Just some milk, and some bread, please."

Aman nodded politely, departing to the kitchen to deal with this simple order, and coming back swiftly to Derakis, who, she guessed, was also of Gondor. What was it, first an influx of elves, then a torrent of Gondorians. She smiled as she placed the bread and milk on the table, both at the customer and the thought - a torrent to match the rain. Wiping her hands lightly on the white apron which hung over the skirt of her dark blue dress, she straightened from the table, nodding politely to Derakis before moving away. But as she did so, she couldn't help looking at the intriguingly mysterious fireside Gondorian...

[Nurumaiel]

Hamson wasn't sure to feel pleased or upset when the rain ended. Now that he had gotten wet the sunshine was welcome, but sunny days were not the kind of days he really enjoyed. Feeling a bit gloomy still about Melilot's quick departure, he decided to stay outside for a little while, hoping the singing of the birds would make him feel better. He was anxious to get the matter of the hole resolved, but if Melilot wouldn't listen to his reasonable suggestions and insisted on just taking the hole without further ado.

Hamson stuck his hands in his pockets and with a start realized that his tin whistle was still there. Taking it out, he put it to his lips and, without hesitation, began to play a lively tune. He wasn't sure if it would reach the Inn or not, but he hoped not. It might disturb some of the guests, and, even worse, someone might ask him to play for everyone. The very thought of it made him blush a deep crimson red. He couldn't do that.

Melilot's face appeared at one of the windows, looking sourly at him. He paused in his playing, then grinned as he remembered how much his music annoyed her. Selecting another tune, he began to play louder than ever.

[Lumiel]

For the first time, Lumiel felt a certain kinship with someone of her own kind. Uien seemed to know how to go about things properly, and Lumiel couldn't help but admire the woman for her courage in standing up for this Falowik man, even against her friends.

And here was something she could relate to more closely, she thought as she lazily watched a swallow swoop to the ground nearby as she followed Uien. Loving one who would seem quite "dubious and nefarious", to use Uien's own words, was something she knew of, and quite well at that.

She stopped for a moment as a lump rose in her throat unprepared for. She couldn't, no she wouldn't let anyone see her like this. Inhaling deeply, she set her mind at ease, though her heart still felt the pang of loss unlessened by time. She wiped one tear away before it could fall and whispered to herself, "I'll make you proud, Farin."

Looking up, she saw that Uien had stopped ahead and was looking back at her curiously, wondering why she had stopped. Lumiel sprung forward, catching up in a few lithe steps. "Are you alright, Lumiel?" asked Uien who had seen the tear before it was erased.

"I'm alright, thank you. I was just thinking about someone....I used to know. He was an honorable man, he taught me all I know. But, like Falowik, he was considered an untrustworthy man to say the least. Yet, I could not help but love him." She sighed, her eyes shading to a dark grey-blue in memory of another.

"He must have been a great man." said Uien soothingly. Lumiel nodded and smiled, putting on her normal bright facade once more. The two continued and Lumiel put her mind to the task at hand, and wondered what would come of all this.

[Derakis]

Derakis thanked the woman after she gave him his meal. Taking a small sip from the glass of milk, that small sip quickly became several swallows as he realized that the milk was, in fact, whole, cold, delicious, and not watered down in the least. Putting down his now half empty glass, he took a slice of the fluffy, warm bread. Its texture was perfect, and it had an absolutely wonderful taste.

As he ate, his eyes shifted to the fireplace and the Gondorian brooding as he stared into the flames. That image brought to Derakis' mind another, from years past. His brother, home from the battle at Osgiliath, where Lord Boromir, and Lord Faramir had led all the men that would follow them into battle against the Easterlings and the Haradrim.

From what little he could get out of his brother in the following years, Derakis learned that his brother had fled in the face of a Nazgûl, instead of following his Lords.

For years after, his brother was a lifeless shell of what he had been before. Constantly in his thoughts was the shame of abandoning his Lords, and the fear that the Black Rider had put in his heart. It was only recently that he was able to start to put these things behind him, but he still had a long way to go.

Derakis continued to eat in silence.

[Elfwine]

He paused, baffled, yet warmed by the hobbit's comment. "Much thanks." The bouncing of little Buttercup's curls brought a grin, oddly enough, to his face, and a distant look to his eyes. He sighed a wary sigh and shifted his heavy gaze upwards towards the ceiling, veiled in shadows. Slowly, long fingers crept out from their warm retreat inside his sleeves' cuffs to curl about the mug before him. He remained this way for quite some time until the popping and crackling of the fire behind him finally stole his attention. He shook his head as if to clear unwanted thoughts, and threw his eyes in a random direction.

This 'random direction' happened to be towards the counter that rose to the base of the kitchen window. From it approached a young woman, the one he'd nodded to earlier. Her golden tresses told him she was a woman of the Rohirrim; his age, or perhaps a bit younger. He offered her a smile that shined through grey eyes, and afterwards lifted his gaze and placed elsewhere, making a note not to stare too long.

[ October 01, 2003: Message edited by: Elfwine ]

[Jack]

Éofalas looked at the girl sitting next to him. She looked familier but then again...

"Yes, I am Éofalas. It is nice out, I like rain but I think it stopped." Éofalas realized he sounded vary lame just then so he changed the subject since he never was good with weather. "What is your name? You look familiar." Éofalas took a drink of his ale and nearly gagged. He had never really liked ale and ale was too strong for this time of day anyway.

[piosenniel]

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.

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:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn. (Character written for by Envinyatar)

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen (Character written for by Piosenniel)

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.

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

It is mid-morning of a mid-Summer's day. The rain has stopped and the clouds are beginning to clear away.

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

[piosenniel]

Buttercup had the curious knack of recalling bits and pieces of things she’d heard. And at odd moments a word, or phrase, or snatch of song would coincide in a seemingly incongruous way. This was one of those times.

‘Sunlight,’ she murmured to herself, as she and Ruby took their empty trays back to the kitchen to be refilled.

‘Well, yes,’ said Ruby, looking close at her friend. Buttercup stood still, her eyes unfocused, her ear cocked as if listening to something. ‘Yes,’ said Ruby again, nudging her to put her tray down on the counter. ‘Don’t be daft. It’s stopped raining, and there is sunlight.’ She peered out the small window by the kitchen’s back entrance. ‘Though if truth be told, there are clouds on the horizon, and it could be gone in a snap.’

Now it was Buttercup’s turn to look at her friend with a wondering expression. ‘I’m not talking about the weather, you ninny!’ She hummed a few notes of a pretty little melody. ‘Sunlight! Once I heard Mistress Piosenniel singing a little song as she rocked her babies. In Elvish it was . . . soothing. It rippled along in the air . . . like the merry sound of The Water where it riffles over the pebbles and rocks, where it enters Bywater Pool. She said it was a lullaby – her own mam had sung it to her to help her sleep, and now she sang it for her wee ones.’

‘Go on,’ said Ruby, wiping the crumbs from the trays as she listened to her friend.

‘It was about water, and the part she sang to me was how silver moonlight loved to dance on the little waves at night, and the golden sunlight did the same for the day.’ She looked toward the door that stood open to the Common Room. Aurë, that was the word for sunlight Mistress Piosenniel used.’

Buttercup called up the image of the man as he had turned toward them, the golden light falling over the features of his face. ‘He doesn’t look all that sunny, does he?’

‘Who?’ asked Ruby, her rag poised in mid swipe.

‘Why, that Mister Auryn out there . . . He’s all sort of clouded over and hidden, isn’t he? Take more than that pint he asked for to “rid him of his chill”, or so I’m thinking . . .’

‘Well, what I’m thinking . . .,’ came the low voice from behind them. The Hobbits froze at the familiar sound. As one, they whirled to face Cook, who had come up quietly behind them.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Buttercup, trying a small smile out on the older Hobbit. ‘We know. The guests are fed, now the dishes need doing.’

‘Then it’s break time,’ they continued in unison.

Cook arched her brows at this rote recital of her rule, then burst out laughing. ‘Come now! I’m not that predictable am I?’

A questioning look grew on her face as the eyes of the two Hobbits grew wide, and Buttercup gasped and clapped her hands.

Cook felt a gentle grip on her shoulder and soft words spoken with a chuckle near her ear. ‘You are just that predictable, Cook. It is one of the reasons I am so fond of you.’

A wide grin split Cook’s face, and crinkled up the corners of her eyes. She turned, her arms going tight about the waist of the woman who stood there. ‘Mistress Piosenniel! We weren’t expecting you for a few days, and now here you are come sneaking up on a poor old Hobbit, and scaring her half to death.’ Cook hugged her tight again. Ruby and Buttercup came forward adding their noisome greetings and hugs.

‘Hey!’ came the voice from the kitchen’s back door. ‘What about a greeting for the poor lout who’s had to pack these fussy little whelps under his cloak from Waymeet to Bywater so they wouldn’t get wet!’

‘Mr. Mithadan!’ went up the cry, as the three bustled over to relieve him of the babies. Another lively exchange of greetings and embraces ensued, and a brief argument over who was to hold the twins first.

Buttercup lost out on the first round and stood, hands on hips, a pout on her face, as the other two cooed and fussed over the little ones. She fixed Pio with a stern look and tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. ‘I told you before we needed one more to go round!’

Mithadan laughed and nodded at Pio to take that complaint. Pio knelt down and put her arm round the stiff little Hobbit. Drawing her near, she whispered in her ear. At her words, the storm clouds in the Hobbit’s face fled, replaced by a gasp of wide-eyed surprise and a loud whoop of laughter.

‘Quiet,’ mouthed Cook, the little girl stirring in her arms. ‘Shhh,’ hissed Ruby, quieting down the boy with a rocking motion as he startled awake.

‘Sorry!’ said Buttercup in a quieter voice. At a nod from Pio she spoke again.

‘Next year, when they come back for a visit,’ she paused and looked meaningfully at the Elf, ‘next year, there’ll be a baby for me to hold!’

She clapped her hands quietly, grinning all the while at the surprise registering on the faces of Cook and Ruby . . .

[Elfwine]

He raised the tin mug to his lips and sipped at the sweet ale, exhaling satisfyingly after he swallowed a drink's worth. The gentle drum beat that had sounded against the battlements had come to a halt, and he found himself staring out of the small, rectangular windows near the Inn's entrance. The rain had ceased, and needles of sunlight pierced through the murky glass and splashed the tavern walls with gold.

Coincedentally, a burst of merriment errupted near to where the halflings had retreated. What he heard first, and eventually saw, was a she-elf and her apparent husband. The two were greeted by wide grins and open arms; those of Ruby and Buttercup and the Cook. He smiled meekly at their happiness, then took a long drink of his pint. Eyes allowed a glance at the Rohirrim woman, then rested on the contents of his mug.

[Dûrlossiel]

Jerin walked through the inn yard, looking around with his good eye. This looks like a good place to spend a few days, he thought. He decided to stay outside for a little while to enjoy the sunshine and practice his quarterstaff.

Now that I've worked up an appitite, I can go inside and eat. Maybe even meet some people. Once he was inside, he looked around for an empty table or stool. He saw a few hobbits surrounding an elf with two infants and decided not to bother them. He turned to an empty table and sat there wondering if he should call for a server.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen sat by the fire close enough to dry off, but not to close, that was her way. She sat next to a hooded Gondorian man, but not so close as to get him wet, her dark auburn hair dripping with dew.

Motionless she sat looking into the flames, her face like marble, eyes of cold grey always holding within them some memory, the light of the flames flickering in her eyes. It gave her a haunted look of something dark and shadowed, yet beautiful she remained despite what she held within her.

The thought of the mission ahead of her she pondered still, supplies were needed, food and candles; herbs in need of replenishing for her creams and balms. An excited noise came up from the kitchen must be Mistress Piosenniel that I've heard about; with her two young ones and her husband. And when lunch came about Cook had asked her to make it for the Inn, apparently her soup the other day had been a hit.

The Inn became lighter with the passing of the clouds, and soon she would head out to seek for herbs; though she was more than certain Uien had already replenished her supply with the help of Falowik.

And when would he return, surely it would be soon, the horse seemed fast enough to carry him swiftly and safely, never mind the fact that not much danger ever lived in the Shire.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Another? Well, well, you have been busy since we last saw you, Pio," Aman's cheeky comment and familiar, droll voice made Pio turn, a smile upon her face. Aman's small smiled immediately lit up into a huge grin which she couldn't resist as she stepped forward from the doorway, arms out, embracing her friend tightly. Then, as the news actually sunk in, she shyed back slightly, an apology on her lips and a hand towards Pio's stomach. "Oh, goodness Pio, I'm sorr-"

"Don't be, don't be!" Pio laughed, shaking her head, then hugged Aman again. "Its brilliant to see you again."

"And you. You look...radiant." The word seemed to fit the elf perfectly - she seemed to practically be glowing from head to toe. Aman inclined a head to Mithadan, holding out a hand. "You have taken good care of her, Mithadan."

The man smiled, shaking Aman's hand firmly wuth both of his. He too looked well, if a little tired, but his eyes twinkled with the same happiness which practically radiated from Pio. He winked. "I do my best, Aman."

"And what about you - have you been taking care of my Inn, hmmm?" Pio took on a mock severe voice, hands, now free of babies which Ruby and Buttercup were cooing at and cradling, on hips. Aman grinned, then became seemingly more serious, ticking off points on her fingers as she spoke.

"It has been pretty uneventful, you know. I mean, there was of course that incident with the stag night which was a little too rowdy, but the ale stains came off eventually." A shadow of doubt flickered across Pio's face, and Aman continued, her face still straight. "Then there was the horse thief, but they only made of with five or six purebreeds. And the debt, but I'm sure it can be redeemed, we'll surely be able to pay off 6,000 gold pieces to Butterbur eventually..."

"And the fire - don't worry, we put it out eventually -" Ruby interjected, catching onto the charade.

"Fire? What-" Pio exclaimed, panicking, but Buttercup interrupted.

"Not to mention the duelling match between the two hobbits -" Buttercup was almost giggling, and Pio's face was becoming more and more concerned.

"And the robbery-"
"The dancing oliphaunts-"
"The flying pigs!" Both hobbit waitresses and the Innkeeper couldn't help the fits of laughter finally getting the better of them at the expression on Pio's face, rising steadily to panic, more panic, downright horror...then realisation. She raised an eyebrow, grinning with them, while Mithadan behind them was also doing his best to keep a straight face.

"I take it that means all was well?"

Aman smiled, nodding slowly. "Aye, nothing too devastating, I'm sure...come, have a drink, I'm sure there will be plenty who would be delighted to wish you back."

As the lady of Rohan guided Pio and Mithadan into the common room, accompanied by Ruby and Buttercup and their eager torrent of news, she brushed a swathe of her blonde-streaked hair back behind her ears, and her eyes once again met those light grey, solemn ones near the fire. Auryn looked away almost immediately, but Aman couldn't help watching him for a few more moments. His fingers seemed to be unfurling with his curiosity, and she noted, for some absurd reason, their length and slimness. Clever fingers...forcing herself not to stare, she turned back to her old friend and her little family, chattering away with them all.

"Ah Beren. I don't believe you've met Pio, have you?"

Aman may not have noticed that the grey gaze of the Gondorian returned inquisitively to her, but another observed it...

[elf-girl-63]

The man had turned away to speak to Ruby and Buttercup so Nuinyulma had left to buy some supplies for her journey. She wandered round the stalls once more buying food, herbs, rope and the like. She had no need for clothes- not that the hobbits clothes fitted her anyway. As she finished buying some candles and tanked the stall owner, she heard some shouting and laughing in the corner. There was a youngish elf maiden, a man and two babies standing and tlaking to Cook, Aman, Ruby and Buttercup. She smiled to herself and decided it must be Pio, that everyone spoke so reverantly and just by glancing over Nuinyulma could see why. She seemed to light up the room, as if she had brought the sunlight inside. The man who appeared to be her husband also carried the same glow although he appeared quite weary.

She took her purchases and quickly climbed the stairs. There she lay down on her bed and thought aobut the coming trip-again! She was so excited, and yet nervous. What if she wasn't good enough? What is she messed everything up? What if they didn't save the man? What if..? She banished the images from her head and set about preparing properly.

She packed most of her light clothes into a small bag and also her new purchases. She made her bed and tidied the room until it could almost be likened to the Last Homely House; Ruby and the like were going to bust with the arrival of their old friend and she wnated to help in a sort of thanks for their kindness over her short stay.

The elf finished her work, left her room and sat on the stairs just thinking. She wondered about Doran, she hadn't seen him for a long time and didn't know if he would be joining the search pary. SHe also was eager to meet Falowik, Uien spoke of him so highly. Also, to journey with other elves once more would be good for her.

She suddenly heard noise downstairs and was reminded of Pio's arrival- maybe there would be a party (though whether she would be invited was a different matter); however, she didn't want to say anything- all the staff looked rushed off their feet. Especially, with so many people arriving that morning.

Instead, she stayed at the top of the stairs, humming tunes and day dreaming aobut life to come.

[Kates Frodo Temp]

Aietmen hesitated at the door of the Inn, wondering if it was really such a good idea to be seen here. If the innkeeper truly did think he was a thief, she might not be too keen on having him stay in her inn. Still, he needed a room, and by now she would have forgotten all about the incident in the stable. I hope so.

In any case, he had smiled his way through much tougher situations. The innkeeper...what was her name? Am...Aman? Aman didn't seem like the sort of person to turn a poor orphan hobbit away. Aietman began to whistle snatches of a tune he had composed on the road as he pushed open the door. Things were working out just fine!

[piosenniel]

Zimzirân

‘Tell me, Gilly, what are the folk here like. I’ve had sketches from Pio, in words and drawings, about those who stood out in her mind. And I’ve seen the countryside as we rode in. But what of the flavor and texture of this place, what can you tell me of that?’

It was an odd pairing, the small brown haired hobbit, pacing alongside the tall woman; her short, quick paced steps keeping up but just with the long stride of the other. Gilly pointed toward the open door to the stable, as they led the horses in, and left the wagon, parked closed under the eaves, to the care of the stableman when he returned.

‘He’ll be surprised to see ‘Falmar back in her stall, I think,’ said Gilly, latching the stall door behind her. ‘Though I can’t think how he allowed her to run off like she did. Lucky she found us.’

‘Lucky,’ thought the woman, ‘or simply the pull of the Elf on the creatures about her.’ She smiled, shaking the image of her friend at the center of an enlarging spiral. Sitting down on a stool by the stall door, she asked her question once again.

‘Well,now, isn't it funny you should use the words "flavor and texture" when you asked what folks here are like . . .’ and with that Gilleflower Took began the weaving of her picture of the Shire, as a whole, and Hobbiton-Bywater in greater detail. The woman’s eyes grew wide as the words flowed on, and after a goodly number of minutes, and in the midst of some very important bit of genealogy, she put her hand on Gilly’s arm and gave a low laugh. ‘What a treasure trove of information you are! But I’m afraid that is too much for me to take in all at once.’ She cocked her head a little to the side, and chewed her lip, her grey eyes flicking to meet Gilly’s brown ones. ‘Simplify it a little for me. Will we like each other, do you think?’

Gilly gave chuckle and shook her head at the woman. ‘Well, I’m from here, that is, from Waymeet. And you’ve met my family. Pretty typical folk, I should think. You’ve gotten along famously with us. You’ll do fine with those you meet here.’

‘We should be going, I think. The twins will be needing me. Mistress Piosenniel and her Mister will be wanting to catch up on the news and speak with friends. I should see to the wee ones.’ The young Hobbit was Pio and Mithadan’s nursemaid, and she took her job very seriously. ‘Are you coming, too,’ she asked, as she turned to head toward the Inn.

‘In a while,’ came the woman’s voice. ‘It’s been a long day’s ride for ‘Falmar. And I see no one to care for her. Let me see to her needs, then I will come in.’

‘Don’t be long,’ came the fading voice of the Hobbit as she ran toward the kitchen’s back door.

~*~*~*~

‘Now that I’m here, I’m wondering if this was a mistake.’ Falmar whickered softly at her, as if encouraging her to go on.

Zimzirân’s long fingers ran lightly through her long black hair, picking the tangles from it, and pushing it back from her face. She had lived all her twenty-seven years near the haven of Forlond, in Forlindon. A small community named Strand - an unimaginative, but descriptive name from the slender shingle of beach that marked where the land faded into the waters of The Sea.

Her family had been small, just her parents, her two older brothers, and herself. Her father was a fisherman, and his son’s had followed his calling for the sea. Her mother was a fisherman’s wife, and a jolly woman who kept her family entertained on cold winter nights with stories passed down through her family from ‘the old days’.

The old days, when Westernesse still hung like a bright jeweled brooch on the bosom of the sea’s dark waters . . . the old days when the King still climbed in silence the spiral road to the peak of the mountain in Mittalmar . . . the old days when the Faithful, driven by winds from the west, were at last delivered in their ships to Lindon . . .

Sometimes, near sunset, as she stood on the edge of the strand, the froth from the waves spilling over her bared feet, Zimzi thought she could see the sun’s last rays gleam for a brief second off the tip of Meneltarma, and at other times she saw in the distance the great ships that bore the Elf-friends and the Palantiri to their refuge in Middle-earth. A blink of an eye, though, and they all were gone.

Sea dreams . . .

She wondered if in truth those old places had ever existed save in her dreams and the dreams of her family.

It was Pio who had confirmed the tales for her. The Elf with her laughter ringing out over the sands one evening not long after they had met. ‘Of course they are true,’ Pio had cried to her wide eyed friend. She remembered the Elf had waded out into the water, letting the waves rush against her bared legs. ‘I have seen the view from Meneltarma,’ she had said. ‘And these feet here,’ she laughed again, wiggling her toes in the water-shifted sand, ‘have walked on the lands now hidden here.’ Zimzi had plied her with many questions, and the Elf had answered all that she could. ‘How wonderful!’ the woman had thought to herself, ‘to have seen so many places.’

And now here she was, having followed her friend to the Shire – the farthest she had ever been from home. ‘You can always go back,’ Pio had told her, the day she asked if Zimzi would like to travel with them for a little while. ‘But when you do, think of the wonderful stories you will have to tell.’

Zimzi finished brushing Falmar’s coat. She threw a blanket over the horse’s back and gave her a measure of oats. Her hands went to the simple, dark grey woolen dress she wore, and she smoothed out the wrinkles left from the long ride. Her dark blue cloak was dry now, where she had hung it on the hook just outside the stall. She took it down, shaking out the creases and the odd bit of hay stuck to it. Drawing it about her shoulders, she fastened it carefully with the shell clasp.

Quick steps brought her to the front entrance to the Inn. She paused, taking a breath, then squared her shoulders, and entered . . .

[ October 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman's attention was caught suddenly by a flash of something outside the window. A small face it looked like, she could have sworn it...but it had only been there for a second, then had vanished. Maybe it was just the stress getting to me, the Innkeeper was telling herself when - no, there it is again! Definitely a face!

The Innkeeper politely excused herself, leaving Pio still rather overwhelmed by the group around her, then marched briskly across the room, where she peered into the sky outside, as if simply looking for any rainclouds. And sure enough, a muffled yelp of surprise and a quiet scuffling told her the face had indeed belonged to someone. Looking down sharply, she missed the person's face, but by the size and build, it was a hobbit child. And what a state he was in...

The brief glimpse was snatched of the boy before he turned a corner around the side of the Inn. The Innkeeper smiled to herself; she could head him off at the kitchen door. Grinning, she half ran, in a dignified fashion, of course, towards the kitchen, pushed the door open quickly to cross the warm, cosy room, where Cook's baffled gaze followed her, to the door outside, where she paused, ear against the door.

Cook was looking at her like she was mad. "Aman, my dear, may I ask-"

Frantic flapping movements halted to old hobbit, and she stopped, surprised and curious despite herself as to why Aman was being so quiet, stealthy, and crazy looking. But the Innkeeper had a fair idea of who this intruder was...keeping her ear against the door, she was soon rewarded by the sound of scared, shallow breathing and scuffling footsteps. Closer, closer...Aman flung open to door suddenly, one hand shooting out to grab the creeping figure by the scruff of the neck.

"Ah ha!" She cried, then all of a sudden felt very foolish. But in her grasp, sure enough, wriggled exactly who she had thought would be there - the small 'horse-thief' who had been with Rosie Brandybuck, the little ill hobbit, several weeks ago. he squirmed and shook wildly to escape, but when Aman simply put him down, he seemed to stop purely out of surprise, before he backed up against the wall as hard as he could and excuses gushed out of his mouth, his eyes wide and scared.

"I wasn't doing anything, mistress, not to say you might think I was, and not that I have a guilty con-shi-unce, or anything, but I needed somewhere to stop, and I'm not a thief, or a kidnapper, or-"

Aman pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did young hobbits have such a capacity for speech? She now directed her flapping hand movements to the boy, but more slowly, and accompanied by 'shhh'-ing noises, as if calming a scared colt. The poor boy looked half starved now she looked at him closely, and his ragged garments couldn't cover the scraped knees and bony elbows. Whats more, he was soaked through - obviously the poor little mite had been caught in the rain.

She took a long look at him, then beckoned him inside through another door, so Cook and the rest wouldn't see him in such a state. "You'd best come in..."

"Aietman." The name came out in a sigh of relief. "My name's Aietman."

[Derakis]

Derakis finishes the last slice of bread and gulps down the last swallow of the fine milk. Setting the glass down he sits back for a moment, quite content.

His attention shifts once again to the Gondorian at the fireplace. Deciding he would like to see someone from his homeland, he stands and walks over to the fireplace.

When he reaches the stranger, he speaks in a soft, low voice. "Excuse me. Am I right in presuming that you are from Gondor? I am Derakis, son of Titus, and I would enjoy sharing the company of another man from my homeland."

[Enif]

"Oh yes... how silly of me... my name is Enif." She said shyly. "I believe I've seen you on my way to the stable. Althought I do think I have seen you before. Where do you come from? Perhaps I have seen you elsewhere." She asked smiling as she noticed the sun coming thru the windows, the rain had stopped.

Enif looked at the ring in Éofalas hand, it seemed something about that ring made him grief. She hesited whether to ask him or not about the ring. And though her curiosity was to great to be contained she kept quiet.

[ October 02, 2003: Message edited by: Enif ]

[Beren87]

"Met her?" The words came out before Beren could hold them back, the taste of cynicism rolling off his lips. After all, it wasn't Aman's fault he hadn't introduced himself, but then again, not being able to fit his name in the pauses of her sentences wasn't exactly helping.

"Well, hello, I suppose it is, M'dear." he spoke in the most eloquent tone he could manage. After all, the elven folk always seemed so proper to him. "Lovely Inn, this one," his hands moved to encompass the Inn. For some reason, he had always moved his hands while talking. "I, for one, am glad you left it to Miss Aman, here. The fair light of this land, she is, if I may so." He risked a wink in her direction at these last words. She had moved off a bit, just as he finally started speaking.

Just then, something caught his eye. What on earth was with that staring man? Something about those eyes caught him, some meaning they conveyed. Then again, perhaps it was what they were staring at...

His mind jumped back to the conversation at hand, leaving the matter of the overly-inquisitive stranger for the time being. "Your Inn seems to attract such odd people, m'lady, part of the reason I love it here. I've even decided to stay on as the gardener. It's so lovely around here, if you get my meaning. The land, the buildings, the...people." Here his glance shifted slightly again. It certainly was difficult to keep his mind off of her.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Lis

The young woman stood on tiptoe and craned her neck forward peering in with solemn brown eyes through the half-parted curtains. Her curls lay matted against her forehead, soft wisps of brown still wet from the downpour and from the raindrops that came shaking off the overhanging boughs whenever the wind whistled through the grove of trees near where she was staying.

She was hesitant to go inside. Her hands were dirty, her clothes stained with mud. There were cuts and abrasions on her fingers from hard manual labor. Her fist was still clenched about the shaft of her axe, her arms tough and muscular. She looked down critically at herself. Her tunic was frayed at the edges; her breeches made her seem more like a boy than a girl. But then others had made that mistake before.

Indeed, she looked nothing like the other women, those inside the Inn who were going about their business, laughing and drinking and eating; doing chores in the kitchen or waiting on tables. She could see the lasses in their soft, sweet skirts and the warrior maids with swords girded at their sides. To be truthful, she did not look like either of these. She was altogether a peculiar sort, very aware of her oddity, and full of doubt as to whether she would fit in very well.

She strained her ears to hear if any spoke the name “Baggins”, but none of the Little Folk seemed to go by that name. Maybe she had been wrong to come here.

I’m not supposed to be here. None of us are, she reminded herself. Remorselessly, the words raced through her mind. She was always going places where she wasn’t supposed to be. Through the glazed pane, she caught a glimpse of a solemn maid with tangled black hair streaming down her back, her fingers long and graceful. Nothing like mine, she thought. But then, they wouldn’t be terribly useful for the type of work I do.

There was a great fuss going on inside centering on a family of four: two small babes, a man and his wife. She narrowed her eyes and looked more closely at the lanky figure of the wife. Then she stepped closer and stared, pressing her nose hard against the window pane. She was both startled and fascinated by what she saw. An Elf! Whatever is an Elf doing in the Shire? I could understand Men slipping in from Bree, but father never spoke of any Elves here! If truth be told, she might have seen more than one Elf sitting and drinking in the Dragon on this or any other day. But her eyes were fixed on this particular Elf, and she was puzzled.

That settles it for sure. If there is one Elf inside, there may be more than one, I’m certainly not going to take a chance. The warmth and music tugged at her heart and the smell of good hot food, but she was not in any mood to meet an Elf, at least not today when she was dressed like this. For an instant there was a lull in the conversation as someone in the Dragon hurried over to push open the sash and let in the sweet smells of the Shire after the rainfall.

The woman on the steps jumped back but not quite in time. A pair of grey eyes turned quizically towards her. Totally alarmed, and sorry that she had ever stopped to take a peek, she clambered down the steps and began running along the path towards the back of the Inn. Only when she was half-way to the pond did she realize that she had left her precious axe sitting on the front window ledge of the Dragon. It lay there undisturbed for some time. The copper and gold glinted in the morning sun with its inscription carved in elaborate runes: To sweet Lis. From your father Balin

[ October 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Jack]

"Well met Enif," Éofalas said. "I am from Rohan but I don't think I have seen you there... yes the stable that’s why you looked so familiar…”

Éofalas smiled, Enif seamed to be hesitant to ask a question but it was there anyway. He tried to tell what she was looking at and found himself staring at his ring. "She notices much..." Éofalas murmured to himself.

“You see my ring, I see…” Éofalas said cautiously. “It was my mothers…” Éofalas looked away. Would Enif want to be bother with his problems?

[Larien Lindorenan]

The rain had stopped and clouds were beginning to part. Despite her dank and weary mood, Nedieth had to smile. A short while ago, the hobbits Ruby and Buttercup had brought over a cup of hot cider and a honey bun. They had talked with her for a little while making her feel more welcome. Still, she was tired and lonely, and wet.

She sipped the cider, relishing the warm feeling it made inside her. It was not cold out, being midsummer, but being wet can be cold. She was anxious to go to a room to dry off and rest. With all the people there, though, it would be a wonder if she got a room. Elves, men and hobbits talked and laughed with one another.

“ Amazing,” she thought. “ That all these races should talk together without recognizing their differences. It warms my heart. It will never be like this in Mirkwood.”

Nedieth had originally lived in Mirkwood, but for the past 1000 years, she’d lived in Rivendell, occasionally going to Loth Lorien for a few years. She went to Lorien to visit with Arwen, who was a close friend of hers. She had met her when she first came to Rivendell as an elfling, after her mother had died.

Her father hadn’t been able to care for her, because he was always away from Mirkwood, being the commander of its army. Her aunt had taken her into her care and then decided to move to Rivendell, where they would be safe from the war that had threatened Mirkwood. Fortunately, no war actually happened, but her aunt decided to stay in Rivendell.

She was on her way now to see her father, who was waiting to sail to the undying lands. She was both nervous and excited. She hadn’t seen her father in quite a while and she had never been to the Grey Havens before. She was kind of wishing now that she hadn’t left Rivendell, though. She had traveled through rain, thunder, and lightening and harsh winds.

Time seemed to be moving slower to Nedieth. She was exhausted beyond belief and starting too feel faint, which rarely ever happened to elves. Looking up, she saw Aman coming towards her and sighed in relief.

“ There is a room free now. Follow me,” Aman said.

[Elfwine]

The merriment and happiness of the moment dispersed, as did the people it touched, including the Rohirrim. She had disappeared behind the counter, and the others had gone about their business. He tightened in his chair as Esgallhugwen found a seat beside, and the fingers of his right hand, which had been sprawled across the low set table before him, curled fist-ward. His left hand raised the mug once more to his lips, and he took a savouring sip.

The fire behind had transferred as much of its energy to Auryn as was comfortable, and the young man shifted position restlessly. Letting out a sigh of discontent, he loosened the ties of heavy cloak and pulled it back to reveal the old burgundy tunic he wore over a worn and wrinkled cream-shaded shirt. Shaking the waves of deep brown hair from his eyes, he slid his fingers from the mug and crossed his arms in a new, laid back stance.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Amarië did not know what to say. How could she just drop and say what the truth was. 'The letter may have been addressed to you too, but it was given to me, for you had already been lost, far away, although the letter should have explained most of it. Did you not read the whole thing? There were at least two pages?'

The letter would have explained it all, and Amarië did not understand how she could not have understood it. Then she remembered, that was not all of it. Although it was very long there was another letter. The maiden looked confuzed. Amarië took out another envelope from her pouch. 'Here read this.'

She handed her the letter and then walked to her room. It may still be early, but she felt weary and wanted to rest.

[Elora]

Lumiel and Uien were fortunate indeed to catch the horse trader before he left the inn for the nearby establishment of the Merry Bowman at Stonebow. He was in the process of packing his papers up neatly when the pair approached him. He cast an assessing gaze over them and smiled in manner he chose for all prospective customers. With his geasture to take a seat, the pair did so and returned the trader's smile.

His papers were spread before him, and he launched into a spiel about horses fit for Elven maidens. Never mind that there was a handsome price attached. He flashed the relevant certificates of ownership, each bearing one or more stamps of authenticity. It was a dizzying display and if you did not keep your head, you'd find yourself in possession of a team of the finest of horses aside from the Mearas ready to lead a carriage you didn't have.

Uien held up a hand when the trader took a breath and interjected, "They are fine, good sir, but for my part I am interested in a sturdy horse able to bear me many miles through the wilds."

Lumiel nodded, adding, "I also wish such a mount." The trader rubbed his chin as he peered at them.

"What business could take Elf maids into the Wilds. Fierce places are those... even Rangers tread lightly." He combed the crowd, looking for a Elven accompaniment, complete with sword and keen gaze. Sometimes they sent their women in, only to swoop when the trader was softened up by Elvish beauty and smooth voices. At least, so this horse trader thought.

"The business of the Master of Buckland," Uien replied simply. That got the trader's attention. So did her action of placing a stack of silver coins on the table. Lumiel followed suit. He blinked at the coins and hurridely sifted through his records to extract two papers which he set before them.

"Well now, here are two fine horses. One a gelding and the other a mare. The gelding is 4 years old, the mare is 5. Sturdy creatures, not simply carriage and show flowers. They're not sprinters. You'll not win a derby with them.

"But they're strong and they have a doughty constitution. They'll be going long after your pretty ones have gone to lather and foam. Serviceable horses, these. Both well trained and only occassional bite."

Uien laughed lightly to herself at that.

"I do not think it is the bite of a bad tempered horse that worries us most, sir. What price is on them?"

And that was when it got truly interesting. The haggling was energetic and intense. After ten minutes, they had a deal pending inspection of the horses.

"Done," said the trader with a grimace that was not entirely for show. "You drive a hard bargain, m'ladies." Whether or not they had an escort, he did have a soft spot for Elvish maidens. "They're yours for 10 silver a piece."

"We will wish to see them first, sir," Lumiel said. The trader nodded earnestly.

"Yes, yes, as I said. I'm a reputable trader, as good as my word. I'll bring them round for you mid afternoon."

"Until then, sir,' Uien replied, bowing her head in gratitude as did Lumiel. They watched the trader gather his papers and rise, hurrying out with a head filled with calculations on the profit. Twenty silver in, 14 to purchase them from the last owners, 2 to stable and feed them.... that made... only 4 silver in profit. The peace was terrible for business, that much was sure.

Uien turned to Lumiel with a faint smile. "That went well, I think." Lumiel nodded, returning the smile. "What else is to be done that I can assist with, Uien?" Uien dropped her pile of coins into her pouch.

"There is little else, aside from gathering more perhaps. The rest awaits us upon our road."

Uien gazed out the window, thinking at that moment of a man who was already on that road and how she wished the distance and time to fade so that she was with him. Through her wistful longings, Uien noticed the sun was out fully now and the stable was filled with horses.

"For now, though, I had best see to my dutied before Derufin sees fit to relieve me of them." Uien rose with a smile and set to her task of moving the horses to the day pasture before they ate the supply of hay and feed in the stables.

[Lumiel]

After a seemingly intense haggling session for a horse to buy with Uien, Lumiel had little left to do. She had always carried all that she needed with her, and she had bought extra supplies earlier. So she decided to rest with company at the Inn until the man brought the horses out for her and Uien's inspection. She sat by the fire, a smile as warm as the hearth by which she sat and just as bright. Its light flecked off her hair in glints of gold among the earthen brown locks. Her eyes seemed to dance among all the faces joyful around her.

She ordered an ale and sipped at it, making small talk with a few of the folk. Never would she have thought herself to be socializing among such a group of peoples. Often she saw a loving, proud smile in her mind of Farin, her mentor and father.

She lowered her gaze for a moment, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she rubbed her finger around the top of her glass. Farin was a Ranger, but had been banished long ago, by Arathorn, Aragorn's father. She herself was a full-blooded elf, with noble parents.

Her family lived alone in a small yet beautiful sylvan home. For her early years, her parents were all that she knew. But they decided when she was still a child that they would leave for the Grey Havens. They arranged a meeting place with an elf from Rivendell, and set out on their forsaken journey.

They were only a few days away from their designated meeting place when they were ambushed by a small orc-host that stumbled upon them. Seeing three elves alone, they could not resist a battle. Her mother ran with her while her father tried to hold them back. As great a fighter as he was, his efforts were in vain and he died a hero among the foul orc cries. Her mother did not get very far before she was surrounded and herself killed brutally by Lumiel's side.

In an instant, her entire world had been shattered into a million unforgivable pieces. She was ashamed of her actions then, though she knew in her heart that she had been but a child, lonely and scared. She begged the orcs for mercy, and cried until there were no tears left and no voice left to mourn with. The orcs decided not to kill her, but to take her as their captive for their own amusement. For several months, she endured the company of the orcs. Her memories of her parents, her heritage, even her language, disappeared into a blur of a too distant past.

They were passing through what for them was unknowingly Farin's "prison" with a small group of about 15 orcs broken off from the main group. Farin had seen the orcs from a distance, and noticed young Lumiel among them, though it was difficult to separate her own dirty face from the rest. Farin came up with a plan, that by saving Lumiel, he could get back into the world.

So, in the dead of night, he snuck into their camp, killing the sentry silently. He crept to Lumiel and snatched her up, waking her up immediately. In the dark, he appeared to her as some evil shadow demon and she screamed in fear, waking the orcs up. Farin fought that night as few have, and slew every single orc before he took Lumiel away, leaving them to drown in their own filthy blood.

Farin took Lumiel to his home, which was more of a simple shelter, and healed her. He decided to raise her for his own revenge, regardless of its effects on her. Lumiel relearned of her heritage and her language, though she never recovered her memories of her parents entirely. She grew to love Farin as a father, though he forbade her to call him such. Farin, though he had originally intended to use her, came to love her as a daughter and taught her all he knew as a Ranger, hoping to give her a chance in the world.

Lumiel never left Farin's side, but the fate of mortals is not something which can be controlled, not even for love. Farin, though he had Numenorian blood in him, eventually grew old and grey, while Lumiel appeared only to have aged a few years closer to adulthood. In his final hours, he confessed to Lumiel his crime for which he had been banished, and why he had saved her. She knew that Farin did love her, despite his first intentions.

Farin gave Lumiel his sword, and entrusted her with the promise to both redeem his name to the leader of the Rangers, whoever it was at the time, and to find her own people and seek her own destiny. After far too lonley funeral, in which she had to bury the body, she set off to forfill her promise, with little notion of how to do it.

That had been only a few months ago, and now she found herself at the Green Dragon Inn, among men, hobbits, and even elves like herself. Still she felt that fear of people, and yet still she felt the loss of Farin. But she would persevere and forfill her promise, for she owed both Farina and herself that much.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman noticed a woman sitting waiting at the table hopefully, evidently wanting to speak to someone - order a room no doubt. The Innkeeper searched quickly for Ruby in the crowded common room...only to notice the waitress was still with Pio. Botherbotherbother. She dithered for a moment, caught between the little hobbit boy whose arm she was still holding firmly and a customer, then sighed. Turning to Aietmen, she let go of his arm.

"Stay here, please. And whatever you do, don't let Cook see you!" Aman couldn't imagine what would happen if Cook found an individual of such scruffy appearance lurking in the Inn. The little hobbit boy nodded timidly and Aman smiled at him, then straightened her hair and walked across the room towards the Nedieth. Just before she reached the elf, she shot a look back...and noticed the boy seemed to have gone!

Struggling not to panic at the prospect of having a possible thief running around in the sort of attire that would have Vince Bunce up in arms, Aman turned quickly back to Nedieth, smiling outwardly. "Good day, madam," She said politely. "You are looking for a room?"

The elf, of Mirkwood Aman guessed, looked surprised at Aman's having guessed, then nodded, smiling wearily. Aman returned this. "Excellent - there's one ready. Follow me please."

Walking briskly across the room followed by Nedieth, the Innkeeper came to the far end of the bar and pulled the heavy logbook from underneath, flipping it with practised ease to the next entry space and, fishing a pen from in one of her skirts pockets, she handed it to the elf. "Ok, sign herei...uh huh...and here...thankyou. Excellent. Go up the stairs, turn right, and your room is the third on the left down the corridor." She handed a key to the elf, who smiled again gratefully. "Lovely view of the Shire borders," she added more softly. This elf looked so sad and lonely...

Nedieth. The name was written in a well practised and flowing hand. Aman didn't know what the name meant, but she wished she could bring laughter to this melancholy elf, and hoped she would come down later to have a drink with the rest of the customers. For now, she would ask Buttercup to go up later and provide the woman with some dryer clothes temporarily as she seemed wet through.

As Nedieth drifted off upstairs, Aman made her way quikly back to the spot where she had left Aietmen, under the stairs. The boy wasn't there, she was sure of it. "Aietmen!" She hissed desperately. "Aietmen, where are you?!"

"Yes, Aman?" The boy's timid voice startled Aman, and she jumped around to see the hobbit lad fairly melt out of the shadows. She grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm, nice trick..." she murmured, then jerked a head the way she was going, signalling him to follow her to her quarters.

They slipped in secretely, and Aman went straight to the trunk where she kept most of her bits and pieces. Since the mathom sale, it had become half full of odds and ends which hadn't been sold and which Aman had kept out of curiosity's sake. A carved bird, a two spouted teapot, some sort of strange, battered top hat, to name a few...and a little outfit, a shirt, waistcoat, and breeches, the right size for a small hobbit child. She had kept it simpyl because she was sure no one in Rohan would ever believe her about how small the hobbits truly were if she went back, and also because she wished that, if she left the Shire, she would never forget exactly what these little people looked like. Turning, she held the fine clothes up to Aietmen with a flourish. "Ta da!"

His eyes widened. "For...for me?"

Aman rolled her eyes. "No, I intend to wear them. Yes, for you, silly! Go on, go and get dressed in the room next door, its unlocked, then I'll get something to eat for you from Cook."

Aietmen smiled, bashfully and gratefully and, muttering some startled thanks, he slipped out into the corridor, clutching the clothes as if they were the finest gold. Aman raised an eyebrow after him, then smiled. It would be a pleasure to help him - she had often taken in ferral cats and stray dogs which had been abandoned or had run away in Rohan, feeding them and looking after them for a few weeks. Aietmen, sadly, was just a stray of another type.

Turning back to the sturdy wooden chest, she took out the fine, soft, dove-grey dress which she had rescued from the attic in a time that seemed so long ago. It was actually only a few weeks, but it had been when Uien had first joined them. She remembered the girl's awe at the little hobbits, her surprise at the collection of mathoms, her delight in fine things, like the feath boa and Aman's dress. It had been Aman's intention to give the dress to the lost, lonely elf maid who was trying to fit in and seemed so different and frightened.

Now Uien was quite different, of course, confident and competent, with hardly a trace of the scared little mouse she had been. But, if her 'friendship' wit Falowik continued to grow, Aman might just be presented with a perfect oppurtunity to give Uien the dress for an excellent reason...

If nothing went wrong on their quest for Eodwine...

[piosenniel]

Pio suppressed the urge to laugh when Beren summoned forth his courtly eloquence and spoke to her. ‘Shall I extend my hand to let him kiss it, or just wait for him to bow to me,’ she thought to herself, as he talked on. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Obviously Aman has not spoken much of me to him, as yet. Proper! What a concept to think of paired with me!’

Mithadan watched the interchange between Beren and Pio with amusement. Coming to her side he grasped her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. He’s doing his best. Don’t put him off already with an outspoken comment! Mithadan’s quick thoughts brushed against hers.

You are right, of course. She chuckled as she observed the tenor of the other thoughts and gestures that flew in the room. And besides, there is something going on here that I need to ferret out.

Mithadan stepped forward and greeted Beren, leaving Pio to corner Buttercup and Ruby, who were always reliable sources of information . . .

[ October 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Imladris]

Lira saw with joy that the clouds parted as a curtain revealing the golden light of the sun as it shone down upon the fair land of the hobbits. She hurried out and began to look for herbs, herbs of healing, as she had given the stash she had brought with her in Minas Tirith.

--------

Lira leaned against the walls of the stable, the cool wood against her pale face as she thought with pleasure the herbs she had gathered. Long she had sought for them and found them hidden under the green boughs of the forest, others she had found dancing in a hidden meadow or dell, and others she had found near to the Green Dragon itself.

She drew the knife that Esgallhugwen had given her and began to hone the edge. It was quickly sharpened and Lira soon made her way towards Merkaliel, and began to pack the herbs she had gathered into saddle bags.

Glancing at her bedraggled dress, she studied it. It was wrinkled, and still dripped with water. Picking it up, she draped it across the coral, where the sun could dry the remaining water with her gentle rays.

[Larien Lindorenan]

Nedieth followed Aman's instructions and found her self in a beautiful little room. Looking out the window she found that the view of the Shire was much more than nice. It nearly took Nedieth's breath away. It was open grasslands riddled with hills. All of the hills had windows and door embedded in them. There were hobbits outside their homes tending to their gardens and child running happily across the fields.

Below the window, there was a bridge that crossed over into the square where market tables held wonderous treasures. She would certainly have to browse them, but first she would rest.

Nedieth sat her pack down in a chair infront of the fire place and began stripping off her clothes. She reached into her bag and pulled out a brush. After braiding her hair and putting on her shift, she climbed into the bed. As she drifted to sleep, she suddenly felt content and welcome. She smiled and buried her face in the pillow.

[piosenniel]

Zimzi

‘Who is this?’ Zimzi stepped into the warm air of the common room, turning round a little to make sure the door had closed securely. Her eyes caught the small face pressed up against the Inn’s front window.

She stared stared at the child who peered round the room with hope dimming in his eyes. A boy, looking for someone, . . . no, a girl, with deep brown eyes and curls capped against her head from the recent rain.

She looked closer before the child startled and ran off. The sun caught the features of the child’s face as she turned.

No, not a man-child. She was short in stature as a child might be, but her face bore the features of one who has seen much and has suffered in some way. A long time on the road perhaps, she thought, noting the stained shirt, frayed at the edges and the raggedy breeches that flapped against the muscular arms and legs.

Zimzi moved quickly out the door to the verandah, intending to invite another obvious newcomer in. ‘My lady!’ she called, cupping her hands, round her mouth. No use, the small woman picked up her pace, running north and east from the Inn. Something clattered on the wooden planks as the Inn’s door shut behind her.

‘What’s this?’ she wondered, picking up the axe. The sun glinted off the copper and gold head. ‘Beautiful,’ she said, admiringly, rubbing a little dirt from the blade. Her finger slipped, a thin line of blood welling up in evidence to the sharpness of it. She sucked on her finger, pressing her tongue against the cut, as she turned the axe over. There, in a script she did not recognize, something was written.

Zimzi pushed her shoulder against the door and came back into the Inn gripping the axe securely in her hand. Scanning the room for Pio, she made her way toward her friend, and held the handle of the axe out toward her.

[ October 06, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elora]

Uien latched the gate and dusted her hands off on her skirt. The bridles jingled lightly as they hung over her shoulder. After the rain, the day had become bright. The colours of theworld seemed new again and vibrant. Uien drew a deep breath and watched the horses and ponies mill around their pasture, tails swishing as they inspected turf, water and the grain that sat in the hanging feed bins.

A dragonfly ephemerally drifted through the air, as if suspended by a transparent thread from the sky above. It landed on the sun struck waters of the trough, fluttering its wings. Uien smiled faintly, her mind distant. She spread her hands over the wooden posts of the fence, their weather worn grain smooth against her palm, and her smile faded.

Uien closed her eyes and bent her head until her brow rested also against the wood of the gate, lost in her thoughts. The morning breeze that had blown the rain away tossed in her hair and skirts. Only yesterday, last evening, she had spoken of the shadow she carried with her in this place. It had lifted for a moment, shining and precious, with the telling. Now that the one who had lifted it, and her with it literally in the Twilight, was gone it haunted the edges of her thoughts.

Who was she to be setting out and impelling others with her? She had been foolish enough to let her wandering feet carry her through blizzard to... Uien shuddered in the warm summer day and shook her head. If they knew how little she knew and how often her actions led her awry, they would rightly reconsider.

She was no warrior, no fierce soldier. She hated swords and all they represented. She was no Lady, able to negotiate a clever peace pact either. Falowik looked at her with eyes filled with hope, and she despaired of disappointing that. With a sigh, Uien turned from the fence and made for the well to wash her hands. It was busy inside and likely Aman would be grateful for some help with all these visitors.

It would give her something to occupy her hands, if not her mind, with. As Uien delved her hands into cool water she had pulled up in the well's bucket, she set her thoughts to Derufin and Aman. She could not leave without a word those who had taken her in, turning her back on their generous hearts and welcome.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen was deep in thought when she noticed the man next to her tensed up only to to fall back into the chair more relaxed running his fingers through his deep brown hair. Her hair was dry and her appearance now was a little less enchanting as before when she was dripping with cold dew.

She smiled at the man turning her back to the fire. Esgallhugwen did not converse with men, not because she felt they were boorish, but because she had never really talked to a mortal man before.

Well I suppose now would be the time to try if chance has it that you will leave with Falowik and the rest of the search party. Her thoughts sank deep; rembering she promised to go with Uien and Falowik to search for Eodwine, and that she would fight if need allowed it.

Her fingers edged the engraved pommel of Nárkir, the sword hung in it's scabbard at her side. She looked up at him again, your behaving like a childshe thought. 'Greetings, I am Esgallhugwen, what brings you to the Shire? I myself am just a wanderer'. She faintly again at the man, never had she felt so awkward in her life, having always kept to herself and always remaining quiet.

Esgallhugwen never bothered with communicating with anyone but Morsereg, but with the task ahead of her she would certainly need to communicate more, so they wouldn't think her to be concieted or worse.

The rays of the sun shone brighter through the windows of the Inn, Esgallhugwen could hear the faint singing of birds outside amongst all the bustle of the Inn.

[Amanaduial the archer]

After guiding Aietmen downstairs and shooing him into the kitchen where Cook began to coo and fuss over him, Aman left him tucking into a pile of toast and some bacon as if there was no tomorrow. Smiling, she stepped back into the Common Room...and nearly jumped back when she saw a raven-haired striking woman bearing an axe towards Pio!

Almost sprinting across the room, all sorts of terrible ideas in her head, Aman remembered rather belatedly her absent-minded thoughts of getting someone to stand at the door and keep weapons out. Well, that was it, it would be a flaming great Ranger or something now, she thought savagely, maybe part troll or something... But as she reached the side of the room, she slowed suddenly as Pio turned around...and smiled at the axe-bearing woman.

Aman blinked and suddenly felt very, very foolish. Hadn't Pio said she would be bringing another friend. Zimzar, Zimsir...Zimzaran, that was it! Pio suddenly looked up from where she sat with Ruby and Buttercup, her eyes moving past the woman's face to Aman's, her eyes laughing.

"Where's the fire, Aman?"

Aman raised an eyebrow in reply to the mocking, laughing tone of the thought which Pio sent out, grinning ruefully in return and shrugging. But was there something else there - guilt, that was it. Aman's eyes narrowed momentarily, and she noticed her friend was sitting with the two finest sources of information in the Shire. The Rohirrim Innkeeper had missed the expression on Pio's face after she had met Beren, but she could see from here - the elf was up to something...

Making her way across the Common Room, Aman tried to make it look like she hadn't been about to bodily throw herself on the raven-haired woman and wrestle the axe from her grip, instead smiling at her and Pio. Pio grinned back, but got in quickly to speak - she wasn't giving Aman a chance to wonder about the expression of curiosity and interest the Innkeeper had seen on her face when she was speaking to Ruby and Buttercup, voicing the thought she had send to Aman before.

"Where's the fire, Aman?"

The other three smiled, laughing slightly, and Aman raised an eyebrow as she had before, actually able to reply properly this time - she wasn't as apt as Pio at the whole business of message sending.

Aman turned to Pio's friend. "Good day...?" she stopped inquiringly, half turning to Pio. "I do apologise, I'm not sure we've met, although I have an idea who you may be - would I be right in guessing you're Zimzaran?"

[Derakis]

SAVE for reworked post

[ October 05, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

‘You would be mostly right, m’Lady.’ A crimson stain spread up the neck of the axe-bearing woman, leaving small blazing chevrons on her cheeks. All eyes had turned to her as the Innkeeper spoke, and she was unused to such close scrutiny.

With a smile of welcome, Pio stood and stepped toward her, closing the short distance that separated them. She held her hands out to Zimzi, and drew her close, with a few whispered words to put her at her ease.

‘This is my friend, from Forlindon,’ she said, slipping her arm around the woman’s waist as she turned her toward those gathered at the table. ‘Her name is Zimzirân, and she’s come to see the Shire . . . to see if it is all that I have told her it is.’ Pio pointed those out about the table. ‘Zimzi, this is Ruby . . . and Buttercup . . . and here, just coming in from the kitchen is Cook.’ Zimzi nodded to each as she was introduced and extended her hand in greeting, repeating each of their names with a smile of recognition.

‘And here is someone new I have just met . . . one Beren . . . a man of some interest, or so I have been told.’ Pio winked quickly at Buttercup, who colored and spluttered and fell to fiddling with her apron as if it were the most interesting item she’d seen in years.

‘Of course, you must recognize this lady of the Mark, do you not?’

Zimzi’s grey eyes took in the Innkeeper, filing away her features. ‘Of course . . . of course! This is your good friend . . . from the east! Amanaduial.’ She stepped from the protective circle of Pio’s arm and held out her hand, a smile lighting up her eyes. ‘So very good to finally meet you! Please, call me Zimzi.’

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

‘Now that’s a pretty name, isn’t it?’ Ruby leaned in close to Buttercup and Cook, one eye on Mistress Piosenniel’s new friend. ‘Sounds like something from far away, doesn’t it.’ Cook nodded her head, saying the name softly to herself. ‘I don’t believe I’ve heard another like it,’ she said, rolling the sibilant word about on her tongue.

‘Yes, you have,’ said Buttercup, who had been sitting quietly since her introduction. The two Hobbits looked at her, waiting for one of her rememberings to surface into words and sentences. She turned to the two and spoke low. ‘Mistress Piosenniel used to tell us stories . . . some of them about that land that sank beneath the sea . . . the one where the greedy men were drowned and the ones who had remained friends to the Elves and faithful to their promise got away in their ships to come here.’ Cook and Ruby waited patiently for her to go on. Somewhere along the line, they knew she would tie in Zimzi’s name. It was not a long wait.

‘The greedy King left his wife when he sailed West to try and invade the Blessed Lands. She was drowned when the Lords of the West submerged the Men’s island in a great wave.’ Buttercup drummed her fingers on the table for a moment and chewed her lip, dredging up the name that hung on the edge of her lips.

‘Ar Zimraphel – that’s what the bad king named her! Zimraphel . . . but her name was really Míriel.’ Buttercup beamed as the last connection fell into place. ‘That’s where her name is from. Zimzirân . . . from the old language of the Big Folk, from Westernesse . . .’

[ElenCala Isil]

Túrelie watched as Amarië walked away. When she was out of sight, Túrelie looked down at the new letter. She was puzzled, but hoped the letter would help her find out the mysterious connection between Amarië and her past. Staring down at the letter, she saw familiar handwriting. Túrelie was now somewhat upset, and it seemed that all sense of mystery had left her. She read the letter bitterly. How could all this have been kept from her?

She read the letter, which was addressed to Amarië, it seemed to explain a little:

Amarië,
I feel that on your journies, you shall come upon Túrelie. When you find her, you will know what to do. It was such fate that she was lost from us, and such a sorrow to me that I never knew my own daughter. But, I have been fortunate enough to have you, and am thankful that you were not also taken.

You were sworn to secrecy, but you know that you cannot deny her of her past...

It seemed that the letter was a bit weather worn, and the rest was illegible. From the letter, Túrelie could tell that Amarië knew her mother. Túrelie read the letter once more, and it registered in her. She recalled from her past, being told that she was to be sent away. Her angry had passed by now. It was all a lie, she had never been sent away, but was taken. For what reason, she knew not.

Rereading the letter, she began to fill in the gaps from her past. All times, her thought wandered off to Amarië. They were connected, and Túrelie could at last assume how so. She walked back to her room, and sat at the desk. For the longest time, she sat pouring over the letters, reading between the lines. It seemed to Túrelie that the emptiness inside her was being filled slowly.

Túrelie at long last sat in silence, she slid the letters away from her. She fingered the jewel about her neck. Now at last she realised the connection, but wondered why Amarië was so reluctant to tell. To Túrelie she seemed quite close, yet wise.

Túrelie decided that she could not take the silence anymore, she arose and walked out her door. Slowly she approached the door of Amarië's room.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin had been in Frogmorton since early morning. Cook sent him off at the crack of dawn with instructions to the cook at the Floating Log that she was wanting some of those new little chickens she’d heard that Lyssum had gotten. Little bits of things, she’d told Derufin, black and white stripeyed she’d heard. Good layers. ‘You get me a rooster and four hens, if Lyssum can spare them,’ Cook said, handing him a good sized wire and wood cage, and a small pouch of coins.

The trip had gone smoothly, excepting the sudden downpour. But he’d brought his oilskin cloak with him, and had not been much bothered by the rain. One rooster, three hens, and a new horse later . . . It was a bargain, he reasoned. The hostler there wanted to be rid of it. Eats too much the man had said, and none of the Hobbits round there needed a full sized horse. Derufin was hoping Cook would not make a fuss that her pouch was a few coins lighter than it should be.’

He’d strapped the cage to the new horse’s saddle, and led it behind his own back to Bywater. The going was slow . . . the horse did like to eat, and tried to stop at every clump of grass growing along the road.

It was late afternoon when he got back to the Inn. He put the chickens in the henyard, and took the two horses to the stable. Someone, he noted, had pulled a wagon up under the eaves of the stable, out of the way of the earlier rain shower. Shrugging off his cloak, he hung it on one of the hooks just inside the stable door, then led the two horses to empty stalls and wiped them down. Giving them a measure of oats and some fresh water, he walked to the back of the stable, to his room to freshen up.

Head down, watching the floor and lost in thought as he walked along, he nearly missed the familiar whicker as he passed the end stable on the left. He glanced over to see who had been put in the stall.

‘Falmar!’ he cried, his eyes lighting with delight. ‘You’ve come back to us, girl!’ Derufin entered the stall and ran his eyes and hands over the horse. ‘Someone’s been taking good care of you! You’re as fat and sassy as ever!’

He strode quickly from the stable, latching the horse’s stall door securely behind him and made for the kitchen. ‘Cook!’ he shouted, throwing open the door. ‘Falmar’s come back!’

Cook looked at him, grinning widely, and pointed out toward the Common Room. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And Mistress Piosenniel’s come with her.’

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ NOTICE OF NEW GAME ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elora and littlemanpoet have a game they would like you to consider: The Hills of Evendim (HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000120)).

This Discussion Thread for this RPG will be open to take on characters on October 12th.

Until then, read the proposal thoroughly, draft a descriptive and creative bio for your character using the Character Description Form, and write a well done First Post for your character to be submitted at the same time as your character description. Make sure you have read the Opening Post for the game - it will give you information with which to craft this post.

This will be an exciting game!

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

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.

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:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn. (Character written for by Envinyatar)

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen (Character written for by Piosenniel)

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.
_____________________________________________

It is now nearing noontime in the Inn. The sun is shining after a morning's rain.

[ October 06, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elora]

Uien entered the inn just in time to beat the lunchtime rush. Her arrival was greeted with enthusiasm by Buttercup. She examined Uien's hands and smiled at Uien.

"Clean hands? Wonderful! We could do with some help with the midday rush." No sooner had Uien managed to nod her reply did she find herself installed behind the bar.

"Aman says the rooms are filling fast. Record the names here and give a key with payment - in advance, mind you. There's some space left yet, but not much, and I'll not loose it to insolvent drifters." Buttercup patted Uien on the arm, speaking as though the solvency of guests and occupancy rate were her chief concern. "Thanks again, Uien," Buttercup added as she walked away.

Uien examined the book and the key rack and shrugged her shoulders. She could do this task. Westron, she noted as the read the entries in the book. Aman wouldn't thank her for a tengwar scrawl. Noting that, Uien took it upon herself to smile at those that passed in a welcoming manner. Aman's warm hospitality was still fresh in Uien's recollection. She'd given Uien a bed without so much as a sniff of coin.

At her post near the room reservation's book, Uien was given the chance to observe the common room. Derufin had recently arrived back, she noted. She would have to speak with him before tomorrow morning. He was smiling merrily as Cook spoke with him. The look of delight on his face warmed her heart and Uien found herself echoing his smile herself.

Falco started when he saw her expression and checked over his shoulders to be sure she really was smiling in his direction. Uien made no further indication of recognition, but smile she did. The Hobbit blinked and then straighted his waistcoat.

"Strange," he muttered. Inwardly he had to admit that he liked to see her smiling at him instead of frowning or worse still gazing cooly at him from great height. But only inwardly. "Now't as strange as Elves, as they say," he reinforced for himself lest he soften a little with her wily smile.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman noticed Pio's non-too-discreet wink at Buttercup and would have glared, fighting down the blush, had she herself not then been introduced.

"Of course, you must recognise this Lady of the Mark, do you not?"

The immediate friendliness and warmth of Zimzi's responce surprised Aman, even in a land full of hobbits. "Of course . . . of course! This is your good friend . . . from the east! Amanaduial." The last word seemed almost musical, making Aman's name like a minature song.

Aman nodded and shook the woman's hand warmly, apparently surprising Zimzi as much as Aman had been surprised. "Yes...yes, that's right. Although no one has called me by my full name since..." she paused, trying to recall. It seemed she had been simply Aman for years, although she remembered Pio had only started calling her by the shortened version after some resistance and several months friendship. The Innkeeper snapped out of her reverie, focusing on Zimzi again. "Well, must be a fair few years anyway. How...?"

She paused, wondering if it was impolite to inquire how the woman knew her like that. Not sure whether to bring this up - she wouldn't like the make the woman uncomfortable as she inadvertently had done before - she changed the subject, looking down at the axe the woman held. Noticing something on the handle, she traced her forefinger lightly around the runes. "Goodness, what's this?"

[Enif]

She saw Éofalas grief at the mention of the ring, still she continued... 'I see...' She hesitated a moment.
Noting that Éofalas hesitated she aded in a hurry: 'I am sorry sir I can be pretty inoportune some times...' She paused. 'I problably shouldn't be asking you about it, I know it is personal, I see you grief at the mere mention of it, but do understand I am quite curious about it. If you would like to share the story I would be glad to hear it.'

[piosenniel]

‘It looks to be a Dwarven axe.’

Pio took the implement from Aman, her eyes sliding over the fine workmanship, from the long, smoothed oaken handle to the sturdy, sharp head. Where the metal of the axe head wrapped round the handle there were set, on the copper plate affixed there, Dwarven runes, filled in with gold.

‘Curious,’ she said quietly, recalling a story her good friend Cami had once told her. ‘I wonder . . .’

‘What does it say?’ asked Zimzi, noting the look of puzzlement on her friend’s face.

‘It was a gift to someone . . . and I think she will come looking for it, and soon. It must be precious to her.’ She handed the axe to Ruby, telling her to be careful as it was quite sharp. ‘Put it away where it will be safe, and out of harm’s way.’

Further discussion of the axe was forestalled as Pio caught a glance of Derufin peeking in from the door to the kitchen. She smiled, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her friend. ‘Come now,’ she called to him, an impish look on her face. ‘Come greet me, stablemaster . . . and tell me how it is you managed to lose my horse!’

[Jack]

"Well its rather complicated, you know... but if you are sure... The ring is my mothers, and when she died she gave it to my grandmother to give to me when she though it was her time to die. So this ring means either my grandmother thinks she will die or she knows she is sick! Its also her way of saying I better settle down and marry. She always said she would bless it and give it to me when married but I never have. I have never wanted too really." Éofalas said.

Éofalas wondered if Enif would think he was insane or hinting or something of that sort, neither of which he was doing!

"Thats my story," Éofalas said and waited for a reply, or some thing that would tell him what Enif was thinking.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin smiled as he watched her in the familiar surroundings of the Inn. The way she seemed the center of that which swirled about her. She was so much at ease in her skin and bones, effortless in her actions. He was captured by her grace once again.

Guileless, Piosenniel grinned at him when she saw him. Her grey eyes glinting with the old mischief, daring him to step close to her. He groaned, both dreading and desiring this moment. She had come back . . . but not to him . . . as he had imagined a thousand times in a thousand different ways. She had come back as his friend, as she would always be.

He must remember that.

‘About your horse, Mistress Piosenniel,’ he began, putting an expression of chagrin and contrition on his face. She stopped his mock confession with a laugh and held out her hands to him.

‘Come, say hello to Mithadan again,’ she urged him, her hand light on his arm as they walked to where he stood, speaking with Beren. A few pleasantries, and then she was drawing him over to where a slender, dark-haired woman stood, speaking with Aman . . .

[Enif]

Enif grinned. 'I see... I myself have been intimidated buy my father he thinks it is rather foolish of me to wonder around with no certain destiny. He insistis that I should setle down while I am still young or else I would end up alone in this world.'
She gave a short pause and continued. 'I told him my heart had not been born to a live a setled life. So I kept on wondering until the day I recieved notice that my father had set sail to the Grey Heavens without even giving me notice but I gess I diserved it.''Now you too know my story'

Enif looked at him with a shy smile on her face, though she was not certain if he thought her a fool, infact she had no clue what he thought of her. She just stood there while she wacthed the lunch beeing prepared.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma got up from the step, she didn't know how long she'd been sat there- a few hours maybe. Anyway, it was long enoguh for her body to begin to feel numb. She dusted off her skirt and looked out the nearest window. The sun had strengthened after the early morning rain and it was now high in the sky. Her stomach moaned. She was beginning to feel hungry (again) and she needed to tell Uien something.

She walked slowly, lingering on every step, trying to delay the inevitable. As she reached the bottom step her head began to ache. The inn was busy with lunch and she had to search a while before she found Uien.

"Excuse, me Uien. Could I have a word?"

The golden-haired elf turned around with a puzzled expression but nevertheless she followed Nuinyulma to a quiet corner.

"What is it?"

"Well. It's just that, that," she took a depp breath, "I can't come with you on your search. I'm really sorry, really, truly."

Uien laughed and Nuinyulma blushed crimson.

"Nevermind, my friend. Whatever reason you have-it can't be helped. Do not worry about it, now come. I would have lunch with you but I have work to do. Go and sit down though."

Nuinyulma smiled a sigh of relief and wandered back into the the common room. She sat by herself once more. It seemed she wasn't very good at making friends. Or being of any use to anyone. She wondered whether she could find a job here in the inn. It would give her some money, a essential that would soon run out. She decided, however, not to think of that and let her mind wander as it was prone to do.

It was not long before Buttercup appeared flustered and rushed off her feet.

"What will you be having for lunch Nuinyulma?"

"Just soup and bread please Buttercup. Lots of it please and you needn't hurry- I'm in no rush."

"Aye, well, you may not be but I am. What with Pio's return and all these new guests. We're running out of space. Mind, I'll bring it as fast as possible, though how fast that will be I can't say."

Nuinyulma laughed as the young hobbit ran off to the kitchen. She was right though. When Buttercup eventually returned with her lunch, she took it eagerly and carefully chomped her bread and sipped her soup.

It tasted much better with her admittance to Uien off her chest.

[Jack]

Éofalas smiled, "Then we are alike... Thank you for listening Enif... It helped a lot. I hope you and your father..." Éofalas wondered if he was getting to personal here but went on, "Patch things up."

Pausing for another moment Éofalas added, "Would you join me for some lunch?" He liked Enif, she reminded him think of spring and flowers.

[piosenniel]

‘Now isn’t this interesting,’ thought Pio to herself, watching Zimzi and Derufin exchange greetings and make their first attempts at conversation. She left them to sort through mutual points of interest and enlarge the details of the brief introduction she had made of one to the other. Buttercup had come up and putting her hand into the Elf’s, stood watching the pair. Pio leaned down, and spoke softly to her.

A smile was on the Hobbit’s face as she brought the two mugs of cold cider, asking why didn’t they sit down and wet their whistles while they talked. Mithadan had come up by then, Beren having drifted away for the moment. He stood at her shoulder, noting the direction of her gaze.

You have that Cami-look in your eye, Piosenniel. Matchmaking?! Whatever happened to the discussions of people making their own decisions?

Pio laughed as she turned toward him. ‘Caught red-handed! And I am just giving things a nudge, not threatening with sword and chain. Surely that is an improvement!’ She excused herself for a moment, saying she wanted to speak with someone. Mithadan was drawn off by Cook, to be bedeviled with plans for the Naming Day party.

So many Elves, she thought to herself. More than when I was here. Pio approached the young Elf who busied herself with bread and soup.

‘It is good, is it not? I have always found Cook’s meals very satisfying, no matter the simplicity of them.’ she smiled at the young Elf, asking if she might sit down.

‘My name is Piosenniel,’ she said, sitting down, across from the Elf. ‘Might I know yours and where you are from? And what brings you here to the Green Dragon?’

[Envinyatar]

She was talking, but he had lost track of her words.

His eyes were on her hands. They were strong, with long tapering fingers. And they moved gracefully as she spoke, like birds gliding from branch to branch. Sure of themselves in their flight.

Solid, working hands. Nails cut short, not fussed over. Their skin stained by the sun. He imagined them roughened by use, and was surprised when her fingers grazed the back of his hand in passing as she took his mug to refill it. Smooth . . . soft . . .

He caught the end of a question she asked. Something concerning clay, he thought. His brow furrowed and he glanced up at her expectant face.

‘Clay, m’Lady?’

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman watched Zimzi talking to Derufin, and raised an eyebrow at the back of Pio's head. As she watched, the elf turned to Mithadan, who had approached her from behind, and laughed with her husband. Seems Aman wasn't the only one who had caught Pio's business. The Innkeeper's eyes turned back to Zimzi and Derufin, where their halting conversation was starting to relax, even if neither of them seemed to be paying particular attention to the words, and she smiled - and to think she had always thought it would be Uien who got the last word with Derufin...

Aman turned her attention back the the axe in her hands, her slim fingers once more moving absent-mindedly over the words she couldn't fully read. But here was something interesting...she peered more closely at the last word on the inscription, her mind working on what little she knew about Dwarven runes. But this word...she had seen this word before, and something about it seemed familiar...then she realised, and with the realisation, she managed the word before the last one as well.

Your father, Balin.

The Innkeeper looked up sharply, then glanced at Zimzi. Well, to be sure, she certainly wasn't a dwarf. So where on Arda could she have come across such an item?

Bemused, the woman of rohan stood, the axe held with both hands, her fingers seeming to slip to where the hands would fit. She marvelled at this - she had only held an axe two or three times before, yet this axe...it seemed made to fit. A fine weapon, to be sure - a fine gift. Holding it carefully, Aman began to thread across the room to Pio, to ask her whether she knew where it had come from. After all, the added to herself with a smiled, she wouldn't want to disturb Derufin and Zimzi...

[Elora]

Uien dutifully kept her post, pencil threaded between her fingers. Nuinyulma found herself joined at her table and Uien looked away, not wishing to stare further. It was true, she did understand. Uien gazed at the wooden grain of the counter top as she mused further.

Nuinyulma had her reasons and truth be told Uien could not blame her. Afterall, who would wish to venture into the Wilds with someone like Uien? Uien had known the task before her had been a challenging one and all she could hope was that Falowik was having better sucess than her. Uien sighed, the weight of his absence heavy on her shoulders and within her. Shine for him she would, and had been trying to do so since he left, but it was not easy without his voice to listen to and his face to gaze upon.

Setting down the pencil, Uien looked up and across the room. Aman was walking with an axe, Dwarvish Uien recognised with a start. An axe! A faint shudder for the work of axes skittered up and down her spine. Derufin was speaking with a dark haired woman, carefully watched. Uien knew the smile that Buttercup wore. Something was afoot. Her lips faintly curved upwards in her own smile.

In all this bustle, Uien found that what she needed was time to gather her thoughts. Perhaps she take in the twilight this evening, she thought, perhaps she find a shape in a piece of wood to set free. That soothed her a little and her eyes cleared. Yes, the twilight and carving would do the trick and she'd have little time to indulge in such things once on the road.

[Enif]

'I'd be glad to have lunch with you. It has been an awfuly long time since I last shared a meal with somebody, infact it has been a long time since I had any company at all.' She said with a sincere smile on her face.

Enif was really glad she had found someone to talk to, sitting there with Éofalas she seemed to have forgotten completly about the weariness of a long solitary journey.
The inn itself, made her forget all her worries, the music, the laughter, the friendly people.

[ October 08, 2003: Message edited by: Enif ]

[ October 09, 2003: Message edited by: Enif ]

[Elfwine]

"As am I." He replied in his low voice, his attention on the lapping flames. A small smile raised one corner of his mouth, and he shifted his intent to the Elf who spoke to him, grey eyes, a trademark of Gondor and its people, swimming with content. "Of the wilds; that of the trees," -he paused, an impish light sparking in his steady gaze- "and of the cities of man." His storming orbs wandered elsewhere, "I heard the Shire was a peaceful place," and his smile faded. He brought the mug in his hands to his lips once more in a drink that drained all that was left of its contents, and he let out a sigh.

Pushing the pint to the edge of the table, his arms dropped below, one resting on a boney knee, the other swooping back smoothly to clutch a loose end of his cloak. Now more sure of his surroundings, he let fly his hawk's eye and loosened his shoulders.

[ October 08, 2003: Message edited by: Elfwine ]

[Nerindel]

The noon sun shone through the mornings rain clouds, warming the cold wet rider as she approched the courtyard of the green dragon, under her hood she smiled as the inn came into sight.

"I hope he is still here and that he got my note?" she whispered to the grey elven mount she sat upon. The tall slender figure dismounted and lead the saddleless mare across the courtyard to stables.

The stable master thoughts seemed elsewhere so she coughed politely and he looked up, "Good day too you stranger, My name is Derufin Stable master of this fine establishment, do you require a stall for your mount?" he smiled warmly. Removing her hood and shaking out her golden hair she nodded, politly returning his smile "She will suffer no saddle or bridle, but is of good nature and will go where you lead her, if you are of gentle hand, her name is Lintaer and mine is Taurëwen Taur'ohtar."

"Well met master Derufin, but if you will excuse me I am hoping to find an old friend within the inn." her eyes glittering with joy as she spoke. She then gave Lintaer a loving pat and headed for the inn, "Please still be here!" she whispered as she pushed open the door.

As her eyes hopefully scanned the common room she was slightly taken aback by the number of elves in the room, most younger than herself. The Greenwood elf sighed as she finnished her scan of the room, 'he's not here!' she thought sadly

she removed her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door, then disheartedly she made her way towards the bar....

[ October 09, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen smiled back lightly "are you from Gondor sir? It looks as if you are by your eyes and your dark hair". She looked about waiting politely for his answer when she noticed Uien; who seemed to be deep in thought, but that was no surprise a great journey was ahead of her and perhaps a dangerous one at that. Perchance for Esgallhugwen as well. But that remained to be seen.

Lira was no where to be seen, Esgallhugwen hoped she would join them, the two Elves had matters to discuss. But for now she relaxed, knowing well no harm could be brought to her within the bounderies of the Shire except a scolding from a Hobbit on how the Elves don't seem to eat.

[Jack]

After they ordered lunch, Éofalas desided to direct the conversation to safer ground. "Do you like it here at the inn?" Enif nodded.
"Like it too, everyone is all so alive and busy..." Éofalas trailed off. He really couldn't put his finger on why he liked it so much.

Strange, so many people... yet, something was missing for this purfict picture. Maybe it was the lack of food, Éofalas smiled as his plate was set before him... yes, that was it food.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: Jack ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Reynion

The lame elf limped down the stairs, silently grumbling about the leather straps holding his wooden leg onto the stump. They chafed, but there really wasn't a better way to attach the leg. At least, the human who'd made the leg for him had done his best, and while in human lands, there wasn't as much choice in how such things were done. The harness was slightly uncomfortable, but by now, Reyn was used to it.

He wondered where Taurewen was, if his ridiculous reaction to her arrival at first had made her rethink her love for him. If indeed she could love someone who was as tarnished as was he. He still though that his soul was darkened, like the clothing he wore. Perhaps he was mad to boot. It certainly seemed that way at times. He was probably the single most broken elf in Middle-Earth. How many others drank like he did, or for that matter, how many others had only one leg?

He hadn't gotten himself drunk in some days, though. Ever since he saw Taurewen again...His memory of her, of her face, of her voice, of her hands, of her heart, had been the only thing keeping him sane for a long time, and seeing her again, he had remembered what he had once been. He wanted to make himself better, like he once was. For her, so that she wouldn't have to be ashamed of him.

He looked around the common room, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs. He was tired of sitting in the room that Aman had been kind enough to let him stay in and doing nothing but thinking. Once or twice, he'd woken up from barely remembered nightmares, but they were a far cry from the horrors that had plagued him for so long. His gaze passed over Hobbits, Men, Elves--more Elves than he'd seen in many years--and roved over the bar--then stopped. She was sitting on a stool, looking down at a mug of tea (not his preferred beverage, even this early, but she was smarter than he was. Always had been).

He stumped over to the bar, and leaned on the counter next to her.

"Taurewen?" he ventured, tentatively...

____________________________________________

Niniel

She hummed a merry tune as she mucked out the stalls, one she'd heard an elf singing the other evening. Well, it was indeed merry, but it also held elements of sorrow. The words, what few of them she'd understood, had seemed to tell of the joys awaiting across the sea, but also of the things the elf would miss here in Middle-Earth. The melody soared higher than a lark and dove deeper than a dolphin by turns.

This was the last stall; most of the horses were out to pasture, and they were surprisingly clean animals. For horses. They still produced a great deal of--ahem. It was rather amazing...

She finished raking fresh straw from the loft into the stall and looked up. There didn't seem to be any more for her to do in the stables, and she decided she should go find Derufin and ask him if there was anything else that he needed her to do. She was determined that he not regret letting her help him.

[Nerindel]

Taurëwen started slightly hearing her name, but recognising the voice she looked up, her eyes sparkled lighting up her smile as she held Reynion's gaze. "I thought perhaps you had left, when I did not see you down,." she laughed airily.

"And you,I thought that perhaps I had frightened you off," Reynion smiled nervously, at this Taurewen's smile faded slightly, "Did you not get my note?" she asked, concern creasing her brow as Reynion shook his head, "But I.... oh, no!" she cried putting a hand to her lips and the other into her pocket, she slowly pulled out a carefully folded piece of parchment, which had Reynion's name delicately written on top. "Well I meant to leave it" she smiled apologetically, handed him the parchment.

She watched as he slowly and carefully unfolded the page, silently mouthing the words she had written, as he read;

Reyn, my love.

I must leave for a few days, there is a weed that grows only in these parts and is only ripe for picking during midsummer, I have been told that this weed holds a strong healing property, for mind and spirit and I just have to find out for myself if this is true, I shall return shortly.

Love, Taurëwen

"Gallows-weed, they call it here, it grows only in the marshes they aptly call midge water marshes," she laughed holding up the green weeds as evidence, their pungent smell causing those nearby to wrinkle their noses in disgust! seeing Reyn's nose wrinkle slightly she quickly returned them to her herb satchel securing it tightly, preventing the smell from escaping.

"So what news with you, what have you been up to while I was being bitten alive by midges and knee deep in cold marshy water?" she asked jovially as she finished her tea.

She still had many questions she wished to ask him, but they could wait for now as could the news she had from home, but just now she did not wish to say or do anything that would take him back to that dark time in their lives. For now she was happy just to be there with him at her side.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Lis stood outside the front entrance of the Inn with one foot lightly poised on the bottom step and the other still firmly planted in the ground. She was having trouble deciding exactly what to do. She'd peered through the window and gotten a brief glimpse of the customers inside. The building was packed to the gills with guests having lunch; the hobbit servers made their way out to the tables with heavy platters of food, set these down before their hungry guests, and then returned to the kitchens to repeat this process all over again.

This part had actually looked quite inviting to Lis. She was extremely hungry. Her mouth watered as she picked up the faint aroma of good pork pies and savory slabs of venison lathered in thick gravy. If she could just mount up her courage to go in and take care of business, she might even stop for a moment to order some lunch.

But there were other things about the Inn that Lis found far less appealing. The place seemed overrun with Elves....a good handful of them, sitting and mooning and taking tiny bits of food in that soulful way that most Elves have. She imagined that some of them were moaning loudly about their tragic past. Lis shuddered slightly in disapproval. Her family had had its own share of troubles, but they did not go around informing all of Arda about the particular miseries that they had faced.

Her father had mentioned nothing about Elves when he talked to her about the Shire, just the Little Folk with their funny manners and good hearts and slightly silly way of doing things. Even more alarming, in all this plethora of Men and Hobbits and Elves, there did not seem to be a single one of her own people. Perhaps Dwarves were not welcomed in these parts.

Still, she had not come here to win over friends. Somewhere, inside that room, there was someone who knew exactly where her axe was. She scowled and shook her head. What a foolish thing to have done! She would never forgive herself if any harm came to it. It was not just the practical value and intrinsic worth of the weapon, although those things could not be denied. Rather, it had been her father's last present to her, and nothing in Middle-earth could ever replace it.

Steeling up her courage, she felt down for the hilt of the dagger that was strapped tightly to her waist. Hopefully, she would not have to use it. But, if Elves and such proved obstinate, she would not hesitate to strike a blow. Deciding that the direct approach was also the most sensible one, she went barging up the steps, threw the door open, and thrust her body into the midst of the common room. Looking fiercely about from one side to the other, she pounded her clenched fist loudly on the bar and bellowed out her complaint, whoever has my axe had better come forward and return it, or you'll soon see what it means to face the blade of a Dwarf. Her fingers stole unbidden to the hilt of her weapon as she glared stubbornly around the room searching for the culprit.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Imladris]

Lira leaned against the back of a tree and closed her eyes letting the sunlight dance upon her closed lids. Colours appeared unbidden: greens and blues smeared together and a delicate pink tiptoed softly across the road they had made, before swiftly vanishing. A blob of black dropped malignantly from above, only to be fiercely driven down by vying violets. Doleful browns covered everything with their plain dreariness and --- the racous cawing of a crow caused Lira's eyes to fly open and scan the sky eagerly for the sabled bird.

Rising to her feet, her dress (damp from the dew) clinging to her legs, she shaded her eyes and finally saw him come winging towards her, his black wings glittering in all their glory as they flashed against the sun. Lira held out her hand and slightly winced as his sharp claws dug into her flesh as he steadied himself.

The Raven's feathers were windstrewn and, being the vain fellow that he was, he instantly began to run his beak hastily through his feathers, setting them to rights. He glanced once or twice in her direction, his beady eyes sparkling merrily with mischief.

Lira smiled at him, delighted, and petted him softly upon his bony head with a delicate finger. Then she noticed the bit of parchment that was tied to his leg. Frowning, she untied the leather string and let it drop to the ground. Flowing writing was written across the paper which read:

My dear Lira,

This is Corn. Of course only a raven with so ridiculous of a name could only have been named from your father. Since he was the one who found it injured and dying in the corn field he insisted on naming (which I just admit is only fair) but Corn is such a queer name for such a magnificent bird.

We are well here and in the north, though we are swiftly departing it for the Grey Havens. I am glad, too, because the cold and wet is so uncomfortable and there are rumours of ruffians about...

Namarie with my love,

Mother

Frowning, Lira folded the piece of paper carefully and slipped it into her pocket. The bright sparkle of fun had departed from Corn's eye and a morose expression had taken it's place. "She's not telling me something," she whispered to Corn who decided to retain a state of feigned innocence and commenced his preening. "She's too cheerful," she decided, "and she's never minded the cold and damp before." Corn hopped onto her shoulder and began to quietly nibble her ear.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[piosenniel]

Aman had just put the axe in Pio’s hands. Black hair intermingled with gold fell across the blade as they looked at the inscription. The Elf listened as her friend moved her finger slowly over last half of the runes.

‘Your father, Balin,’ the Innkeeper said. ‘That’s what I’ve puzzled out,' she said.

Pio ran the end of her finger beneath the first of the runes. ‘See this here,’ she said, pointing at the five symbols that made up the second word. ‘It is a form of endearment. ‘And here . . . this is the name, attached on to it.’ She read the line aloud, in Dwarvish, and then began in the Common Speech.

‘To sweet . . .’ Before she could get the name out her head snapped up to look at the bar. A young woman stood there, scowling, angry. Her hand was at her belt, and the words . . . ‘Or you’ll soon see what it means to face the blade of a Dwarf,’ rang out across the room.

Approaching her, Pio stopped a fair distance away and held the shoulder of axe handle in her left hand, the end knob of it pointing toward the Dwarf.

‘Lis, if I am not mistaken,’ she said clearly and evenly, the fingers of her right hand running across the runes on the blade. ‘We have kept your axe safe for your returning.’ She moved a step closer to the woman at the bar.

‘Daughter of Balin . . . Fundinul uzbad Khazaddúmu . . . most welcome is one of Durin’s folk once again to the Shire . . .’

Pio’s right hand slipped beneath the loose sleeve that fell over her left hand, as if to adjust it. Her fingers loosed the binding on her knife hidden there. ‘Best to be ready in the event this Dwarf does not take kindly to Elves,’ she thought to herself, grey eyes watching closely the movements of the other woman.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Esgallhugwen]

A commotion arose jarring Esgallhugwen from her thoughts. It appeared that a female dwarf had entered demanding the return of her axe, Mistress Pio went up to her, seeming to adjust something by her sleeve.

A dagger, thats to be expected by any Elf to be cunning towards a Dwarf that didn't take a like to the Fair Folk. But she hoped no fight would break out, not wanting to intrude unless to help in restraining the aggitated Lis. She watched closely for any sign of forced movement, loosening the sword in her sheath at the side.

Esgallhugwen would not strike the Dwarf, she would only use it as a fair warning.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Take your hand off your weapon," Aman's spoke softly into Esgalhugwen's ear, so Lis would not hear, but made the elf jump in any case, and for a second Aman was worried she would loose her sword out of pure shock that second. She continued, facing the elf now, murmuring, "It will do no good for another elf to be seen threatening her."

"Her?" Esgalhugwen sounded surprised, and Aman supposed she couldn't blame her, but her voice came out louder than was probably intended. Lis heard this time and turned, her hand reaching towards the hilt of the axe which Pio still held out, her eyes flaming. Pio did not resist, but simply kept her grey eyes fixed calmly on the dwarf, in silent askance that things did not get out of hand. But Aman noticed her friend subtly adjust her left sleeve. Anyone who had not known Pio so well would have thought nothing of it, a mere, absent-minded adjustment, but Aman knew of the weapon Pio kept there. Pretending she had noticed nothing, the Innkeeper stepped forward slowly into the circle that had somehow formed. Nosy Shire folk - being surrounded, in the centre of a crowd of folk, many of whom were elves, would hardly improve Lis's state of mind.

She smiled respectfully, inclining her head slightly and in doing so taking her eyes of Lis - a movement that indicated trust and friendship in the fact she couldn't, for a split second, see what the dwarf was doing. A necessary and hopefully strengthening movement, but one that non the less made Aman's heart seem to stop for a split second. Unlike Pio, she didn't have a weapon on her - a few weeks after she came to the Green Dragon she had stopped wearing her usual dagger against her thigh. The closest weapon she had was the sword behind the bar. On the other side of Lis. Funny, she thought wryly, she obviously should have been prepared for a hostile dwarf...

She caught Pio's eye for a split second, and the elf shook her head very slightly. I will not, do not worry, came the reassuring message from the elf. Leastaways, I certainly do not intend to.

Aman's eyes flicked back to Lis's, and she saw the dwarf was slightly off-guard at having yet another representative of a race greeting her, a human this time. But in her outraged, flashing eyes, Aman could see fear as well.

"Good day, friend," She did not use the dwarf's name for fear of making her more uneasy, but used the title 'friend' rather hesitantly and, she feared, rather optimistically. "As my friend - Pio -" She indicated the elf who smiled cordially. "-said, we were minding your axe. Someone found it and brought it in." Leastaways I hope that is the truth. "Please...we didn't mean any harm."

She smiled again, her voice reassuring and soft, trying to ignore the voice in her head telling her exactly what could happen if this furious, scared dwarf loosed her anger, and her axe, in this Inn...

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Lis reached forward and gingerly wrapped her fingers around the end knob of the axe, gently tugging the weapon towards her body. The tall Elf loosened her grip and the axe slipped readily forward into the dwarf's clenched fist. Everyone in the Inn stood frozen in place, not daring to breath or say anything for fear they would provoke this argumentative stranger into a rage. Lis took up the weapon and carefully cradled it near her, like a friend who has been too long away.

She had no wish to provoke a fight as long as she got back what was rightfully hers. What startled her the most was not that the two Elves were obviously carrying weapons. That much was to be expected. But how and where did any of these folk learn to speak a few words of the Khurzdal tongue? Such skill was rare indeed, and could only come about because some dwarf had enough trust in them to share a word or two. What was even more strange is that the tall Elf had not only spoken a few words of their lambe but had even used the correct iglishmek or gestures that Dwarves used in aglab when speaking among themselves. It was indeed very puzzling.

She remembered back on the tales of the First Age that her father had told to her.... Curufin had been the only one of the Noldor to win the friendship of the Khazad. And once it was said that a great friendship had existed between her own people and those of the House of Hador. She had even heard that Gloin's son had become close friends with the Elf Legolas, as unlikely as that sounded. But such instances were few and far between.

Still, if someone knew enough to address a Dwarf with a few words of their own speech, it would not do to show them the sharp edge of an axeblade. Still wary of trusting too much, but not wanting to be accused of rudeness and lack of hospitality, Lis put the axe down at her side and nodded her head in welcome. "Yes, I am the daughter of Balin Fundinul uzbad Khazaddumu. May the blessings of Mahal be on your head for the care you have taken with my weapon."

She stepped back a moment and looked around, detecting the strong, sweet odors of hot cooked food, "Now, does anyone here know if a Dwarf maid can get a tankard of ale and a trencher of meat and gravy in this fine establishment?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman's breath almost came out as a huge, audible sigh as Lis spoke, and she grinned in relief, offering a hand to the dwarf.

"Absolutely, I'll see to it directly. My name is Aman - I'm the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon."

After a brief pause, the dwarf took her hand and gingerly shook it, an unfamiliar gesture that all came to use in the Shire, no matter where they hailed from. She smiled back and replied with more warmth, "Thank you. I'm...I'm Lis." She smiled again nervously. "Although..although you already know that."

Aman smiled back, nodding her head politely as she took her leave towards the kitchen to ask Cook, inclining a head to Pio towards the bar in askance as to whether the elf could deal with a pint of ale. Hand moving safely, but slowly, away from her wrist, Pio smiled and stepped towards the bar to oblige.

As she went to the kitchen, Aman pondered on what she had just said, how she had just introduced herself. Not as she had when she was a child, not how she had when she travelled for a short time with Pio, not as a horse trainer of Rohan...

"My name is Aman - I'm the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon."
"I'm the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon."
The Innkeeper of the Green Dragon..."

How long would she be able to introduce herself like that now Pio was back?

There was no time for that now though, and Aman pushed such abstract, distracting thoughts from her mind as she smiled at Cook, who had missed the excitement and was starting lunch, and the rohirrim woman switched back to her role as Innkeeper, as ever. "Ah Cook. Would it be possible for a trencher of meat and gravy?"

The old hobbit beamed. "Absolutely, Aman. I was thinking of beef as the main body of lunch?"

"Excellent. It's just...well, we have a rather unusual visitor to the Inn. And I need to discuss party details with you - the time is rather upon us."

"An unusual visitor? In the Dragon? Dear me, add them to the list." Vinca chuckled, reaching up to where the meat had been thawing in the cupboard. She turned, indicating a hand towards the table and the carrots. "Well, come on then, missy, those vegibles won't be cutting themslves."

Aman smiled, taking up a knife and starting on the 'vegibles', and as she did so, the began to tell Cook of Lis and the commoton that had gone on...

[piosenniel]

Point of Information for everyone:

Mirkwood is no longer called Mirkwood at this time.

At present, the Green Dragon Inn is in the 4th Age - year 12 (many years after the War of the Ring – ended 3rd Age 3019; 4th Age began at the end of 3021 of the 3rd Age.).

In 3019 of the 3rd Age, Mirkwood was cleansed. It was renamed by Celeborn and Thranduil - 'Eryn Lasgalen'- the Wood of Green Leaves. It has been called that name now for about 14 years.

It is a name reminiscent of the Forest's original name, Greenwood the Great, before the shadow of Sauron as the Necromancer fell over it from Dol Guldur (about 3rd Age 1050).

[Artalwen]

Nobody notices a small, dark-blond hobbit girl walk into the inn. She slips her hood off her head, and glances around, relieved that she was able to enter unnoticed.

Slipping off her red cloak, she carefully hangs it on a low hook on the coat hanger next to her, and quietly walks further into the inn. Instead of immediantly asking for a room, she silently slips into a seat at one of the hobbit-sized tables, and patiently sits there, admiring the scenery outside the window next to her table.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen had no wish to threaten the Dwarf, let alone draw attention to herself. But something in the Drawf's eyes caught her apprehension when Esgallhugwen spoke louder than intended. She loosed her grip on her sword at Aman's words watching all the while with great care.

The commotion subsided, and Esgallhugwen did not know whether it would be wise to approach the female Dwarf Lis in apology for her rash reaction and words; or word rather. At times it proved difficult to identify a Dwarf as a man or women considering the women were rarely seen in the open, in the old days.

She did not fear Lis, no matter how stubborn and hotheaded the Dwarves seemed to be, that was their protection from strangers really, once they knew you were of no harm and of good will they might open up to you; slowly but surely. Time, patience and trust is what it takes.

And yet the Elves were not accustomed to be companions with Dwarves, it was very much the same the other way around; though Esgallhugwen had heard tales of such unity. She only wished to make amends, hoping that Lis would accept her apology.

Her long legs made there way towards the Dwarf, and Lis noticed her quick enough becoming tense. 'I mean you no harm Lady Dwarf, I only mean to make apology to you for my actions before, you may not think kindly of the Elves and I will not be the first to admit our alliances have grown weak and strained over dark times, but light has come again, I have heard abroad this land that alliances and friendships are being made again unless my ears decieve me, and I would not have one foolish mistake from an over stressed Elf take all that back".

The Dwarf seemed to ponder her words but Esgallhugwen waited none the less for an answer, no matter what it may entail.

[piosenniel]

Buttercup

‘Well, hello Miss!’ said Buttercup brightly to the Hobbit lass who had just come into the Inn. Dark golden curls framed a pretty face on the young hobbit. ‘I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, have I? asked Buttercup, swiping the table in front of the Hobbit lass with her rag.

‘Now, what can I get for you? We’re still serving a late lunch and there’s tea, or ale, or wine if you prefer. Or cider,’ she said, remembering that a jug of cool cider was sitting in the pantry, just fresh squeezed that morning by the apple tree farmer just down the road a bit.

‘I’m Buttercup, by the way,’ she continued, waiting for the Hobbit to decide on her order. ‘And what shall I call you?’

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Cook

The meat had thawed nicely, and now sat on the counter top, waiting to be tenderized. Cook reached for her oaken mallet and gave a mighty whack to the slab. Aman was sitting at the table, a pile of potatoes and carrots and parsnips challenging her paring knife. Ruby sat across from her snapping the ends off the large bowl of green beans that Beren had gathered that morning. He had craftily sneaked out before Cook could corner him to assist with the meal.

‘Got to see to those new hens of yours he had told her,’ he said, flashing a smile as he hurried out the door.

With the unfolding of Aman’s story about Lis, Cook’s mallet blows came faster and harder – stopping with a murderous thunk when the stand off was described. ‘She’s a lucky Dwarf not to have pushed Mistress Piosenniel.’

‘And lucky even more that Cook was not there with her mallet,’ whispered Ruby, noting how thin and stretched the meat seemed to be getting.

‘You have the right of that!’ said Cook, as she salted and peppered the meat and rolled it up, tying it into a roast. ‘I’ll not have the mother of those dear bairns injured. Dwarf or no, she’d have had me to get through.’ A second piece of meat was dealt with in a similar manner, and both set on racks in a pan to roast in the oven. The beans, now done, were put in a pot, and covered with cold water. The vegetables went into another large pot and waited their turn, along with the beans, to be cooked.

Cook pulled the ham from the cool pantry and sliced off several good sized slabs, piling them on a plate. A loaf of bread was cut into thick slices and put in a small basket, along with a crock of mustard and one of Cook’s spiced pickle relish. A wedge of cheddar offered itself to be cut into slices which were piled with the ham.

Aman and Ruby watched as Cook placed the dishes and some utensils on a tray, and hefting on to her shoulder, sailed through the door and into the Common Room.

And there was Esgallhugwen speaking to the Dwarf. Cook sat her tray on the counter and waited for her chance to speak.

‘Begging your pardon, Miz Lis, but dinner won’t be ready for several hours. I’ve brought you something to hold you over until then.’

Cook’s eyes swept over the young woman and then looked to where Mistress Piosenniel was sitting. Satisfied that everything looked under control, and that Pio had not been injured in any way, she nodded to the Dwarf and retreated back to the kitchen.

Aman was just drying her hands in preparation for going back out to see the guests. ‘Ruby’ll see to them for now,’ said Cook, scooting the Hobbit out the door to the Common room. ‘We’ve got a few moments to ourselves, I thought we might get the ball rolling on the Naming Day party. Any ideas on how we should get it organized?’

Cook poured a hot cup of tea for herself and for the Innkeeper, and pushed the honey jar toward Aman after she had put a generous dollop in her own. Her spoon clinked against the sides of the pottery mug as she waited for Aman to speak . . .

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Piosenniel

Gilly brought the twins out to where Pio was sitting. ‘They’re done napping, and they’re all freshened up,’ she said handing the Elf the two baskets. ‘And now I think they want they want their ammë.' Gilly watched with a smile as Pio picked up her daughter and then her son and cradled them both on her lap.

Their grey eyes followed her face with a certain solemnity as she spoke softly to them, their arms and legs moving with a gleeful excitement as she touched her nose to theirs.

‘Come,’ she said, gathering them up in her arms, and motioning for Gilly to bring the baskets. ‘Cook has a rocker in the kitchen. I can rock them a little and then the little ones can play on the quilt on the floor. Though I doubt they will get the chance to be on the blanket if Ruby and Buttercup catch sight of them.’ She walked across the Common Room, Gilly trailing behind her. ‘Once we get settled, go ahead and take the rest of the afternoon off,' she called back to Gilly. 'I can see to the sweetlings . . .’

[Child of the 7th Age]

As Lis sat nursing a flagon of ale and waiting for her meal to appear, a tall and slender figure walked over towards her, the Elf who had earlier been reaching for her sword. She listened to the Elf's words and hesitated for a moment, then reached out her own hand in a welcoming gesture as she'd seen others do, "I've no reason to hold a grudge against you. I know nothing of great alliances among the mighty, save perhaps that of my kinsman Gimli whose views are still accounted a bit strange among our folk, but I do know honest words when I hear them."

"I've come to the Shire not to make trouble but because I was curious to learn what the folk and land were like. My father told me many tales about the Shire, and of how he and his dwarven kin journeyed out and shared an adventure with a hobbit. Even after that, father would come roaming back to pay a visit to Master Baggins and renew acquaintances, along with Gandalf with whom they shared a common friendship."

"But, alas," she whispered, with a sigh, "Our friend Gandalf is here no more. For Gimli has told us that he sailed across the sea. And rumor has it that Master Baggins sailed too, along with his kinsman Frodo. I have come here to see if that is true, and to inquire if there are any other of Bilbo's kin who still dwell in this place and might remember the tales he told, and honor the name of my father."

"I thought of doing this for many years, ever since my father sent my mother and me away from our home in Moria and...." Lis's voice trailed off, and she seemed lost in her own thoughts. She hesitated a moment and then went on gruffly without finishing her sentence, "But times were bad then, and I feared to travel the roads. And my mother would not hear of it. For she held to the old ways that said dwarf women should stay at home, tending to their crafts and families, and not go travelling footloose on the highways. But she is gone now and here I am." The final words were spoken in such a way that Esgallhugwen clearly understood the Dwarf was not inclined to say more on this subject, at least at the present time.

Lis quickly recovered herself and smiled broadly, "I do not know what made me load that story into your ear, for it is not our way to confide such things. But there it is anyway. But how can I talk with you when I do not even know your name or from where you hail? Indeed, I am remiss in my duties as a host! May I order you something to drink?"

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

It came as a pleasant relief to be able to sit down, relax, and have a cup of tea with Cook - she was usually so busy. Accepting the cup, she sat down and took a spoonful of runny honey from the jar, winding the viscous amber substance slowly around the spoon a few times thoughtfully before replying.

Stirring the tea gently, Aman looked up at Cook thoughtfully. Finally, just as Vinca seemed about to burst with waiting (she had been positively quivering for the last few moments, and Aman tried to pretend she wasn't amused), she spoke.

"We're going to have to send out invitations to the whole Shire."

Cook snorted. "Oh, Aman, Pio arrived about an hour ago, news'll have got all the way to the centre of Hobbiton by now!"

Aman smiled. "This is the Shire, Cook - I know how much you like to be properly invited. I mean, you would turn up anyway," she grinned "but lets get up some posters anyway - you know, make it even bigger and wider reaching."

Cook beamed, and Aman went on. "Also, we'll need people to know for other reasons. This will be no small party, not with the amount of people who've passed through the Shire during Pio's reign, so to speak - we'll need a fair few helpers to sort things."

"You'll find plenty who'll be glad to help."

Aman nodded. "I know. Excellent. Drinks are all labelled, but I'll need to check the amounts. Food - gods, there will need to be alot of food, this party could easily spread across two or three meals. Could you...?"

"That's what I'm here for, Aman," Cook beamed again. "Leave that to me. Although...although I may need to consult you every so often, you know."

"Food, drinks, posters, decorations, games for the children, somewhere set up nicely for the ceremony..." Aman stirred her tea again, before looking up and smiling ruefully at Cook. "When I said a few helpers, I may have been underestimating."

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Reynion paid no attention to the dwarven woman; the Innkeeper (Innkeepers?) seemed to have everything well in hand. It was rather interesting watching the two of them, but Taurewen was more so. Much more so, in fact.

"Now, where were we?" he mused aloud. That dwarf had interrupted them rather well, but it had given him a chance to gather his thoughts. "Oh, yes, you were asking about what I was doing. And the answer is very simple. I did nothing. I didn't even get drunk, much to my own surprise." What had been more surprising was that he hadn't felt the need to get drunk. "It's amazing how much clearer my mind is when I'm not suffering from a hangover..."

Taurewen smiled, but he got the feeling that she didn't like him talking about his habit. Which was in no way surprising, considering how she'd found him. It still embarrassed him that his first meeting with her in--well, he'd not been counting the years, but in a very, very long time--he was hung-over. It was hardly a flattering position in which to be, though he was actually rather used to it.

[piosenniel]

Zimzi

Derufin’s question had gone unanswered. The young woman that Zimzi had seen through the window of the Inn had come into the Inn, looking for her axe. Derufin’s hand had grasped her arm when she rose to try to speak to the woman, and in a whisper he bade her stay still until Mistress Piosenniel had taken care of it.

Zimzi could scarcely breathe as she watched the tense scene play out. Violence of any sort had been the rare occasion in her life, and she found now that it came near to her, she did not relish the taste or feel of it. Derufin too, was tensed, she noted, but it a different way than she. His left hand was on the table top, ready to boost himself up quickly, his right hand grasped firmly the top rung on the back of his chair. With one movement he could be up on his feet, the chair flying toward the threatening Dwarf.

She watched him take a deep breath as the Dwarf took the axe from Pio. And as Lis relaxed her stance, Derufin relaxed his, his gaze staying on her even as she spoke politely to the Elf.

When the tense situation had abated, and those in the room turned back to their drinks and food, Zimzi returned to the conversation that she had been having with her companion. Derufin turned his back to the room and returned his attention to her as she spoke.

‘I was talking about clay,’ she reminded him, her hands starting their punctuation of her words. On the table top, in a pool of condensation from the ale, she drew a map of a small stream that ran north from Bywater, on the east side of Bindbale Wood. ‘Pio says she is sure she has seen clayey banks along this part of the stream, just above Overhill. She’s promised to take me up there while we’re here.’

Derufin’s brow furrowed. He had obviously missed something in the main body of her previous conversation. He knocked himself mentally and focused his attention on what she was saying.

‘I know that area,' he said, 'though I confess I never noticed clay banks – but then, I wasn’t looking for them, either.’ His eyes lit with a realization that Niniel was here to take care of the horses and there were no odd jobs to be done on his plate at the moment.

‘Would you like to ride up there?’

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Artalwen]

‘I’m Buttercup, by the way,’ she continued, waiting for the Hobbit to decide on her order. ‘And what shall I call you?’

The hobbit glanced up, her very light blue eyes shining with laughter, it seemed. 'My name is Gloria' she answered Buttercup with a smile. "And if you don't mind, I'd rather just have some water for now."
Gloria noticed the commotion happening in the inn with a dwarven woman, but disregarded it, for she did not want to become a part of it. She liked being in the shadows, unnoticed. It had always been part of her life, being overlooked and it had always suited Gloria just fine.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin waited while she considered his offer. He half expected her to say, ‘No’. She barely knew him. He tapped his fingers quietly on the sides of the mug he had grasped in his hands. Perhaps he should offer to ask Piosenniel to go with them.

‘Yes, that would make it less awkward, you ninny,’ he told himself. ‘What were you thinking, to be so bold? This isn’t your style.’

His mind wandered down conflicting paths. Not a man to be uncertain of himself, he found this somewhat disconcerting. Mentally revising his approach for the fifth or perhaps sixth time, he almost missed, again, the words she was speaking.

‘Yes,’ she said, her grey eyes looking at him with some amusement. ‘Yes,’ she said again. ‘Let me just tell Pio where I’m going, and I’ll fetch my cloak.’ She rose from her chair, heading for the kitchen. ‘Can you bring a small bucket and a cloth to cover it,’ she called back over her shoulder.

Derufin nodded his head, saying that yes, he could do that. ‘Clay,’ he said to himself, finishing up the last swallow of ale in his mug. ‘The woman wants clay . . . and she shall have it.’ He shook his head, trying vainly to remember what she had said about it and why it was so important.

‘Just play along, man,’ he told himself, walking out to the stable. ‘Sooner or later it’s bound to come clear without you asking and making a fool of yourself again.’

[elf-girl-63]

Just as Nuinyulma was to rpely Pio had left to sort out the scene with the Dwarf. She appeared to be a dwarf-maiden and had confirmed it herself by asking for some ale. It was so hard to tell the difference between them and Lis (that appeared to be her name) didn't seem particularly happy about the number of dwarfs in the inn. That couldn't be helped though.

After the near fight- Esgallhugwen nearly drew her sword though Aman stopped her- peace returned to the inn. Pio hadn't returned and Nuinyulma had seen her taking the twins into the kitchen. Most probably to feed them. They seemed to be quite a handful.

Instead, Nuinyulma sat peacefully day dreaming. The day outside was still calm but looking into the sky, she felt there would soon be some more rain although perhaps not as heavy as the morning's storm.

[piosenniel]

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.

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:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn. (Character written for by Envinyatar)

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen (Character written for by Piosenniel)

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.
_____________________________________________


It is late afternoon of a sometimes sunny, sometimes grey and threatening rain again, day in midsummer.

_____________________________________________

[ October 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Pio listened in with half an ear as Cook an Aman talked about the party. The babies had both nursed and were now playing happily on the thick quilt Cook had retrieved from her room.

‘I’ll not have the wee ones getting a chill!’ she informed the Elf, as she laid the folded in half quilt on the floor near the smaller fireplace. The twins were young enough not to be mobile; though, Cook admonished Pio with the directions she should keep a close eye nonetheless since babies in her experience could move about quite well just by rolling.

Aman winked at her friend behind Cook’s back, and Pio was hard put to keep a straight face. Hobbit, Big Folk, or Elf – none escaped the firm hand and oft provided opinions and directions of Cook.

Resisting the urge to say ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Pio changed the subject back to that of the party. She explained that this Naming Day was for the Father to give the children their first name. It was an Elvish ceremony called Essecarmë or ‘Name-making’. And she would prefer if the ceremony, which was quite brief – just an introduction of the children to the community with their names – would happen at night when the stars were out. She, too, would announce the names she had chosen for them. These would be the amilessi tercenyë, the ‘mother-names-of-insight’.

‘The party, of course can begin well before then,’ she continued. ‘I have missed the Hobbit gatherings we had here – the food and drink, the music and singing and dancing, the endless talking of little things that are happening in each others lives, the pleasant and reassuring wholeness of life in the Shire. I’m quite looking forward to it!’ She laughed as a thought struck her. ‘And most of all, I am looking forward to simply enjoying it, without having to do any of the work!

‘As am I.’ Mithadan had come in from the Inn’s back yard, having had a pleasant stroll about the area with Beren. He crouched down by the twins, offering them one of the bright little rag dolls which Cook had feretted out of her chest, toys her grandchildren had enjoyed on their visits to the Inn. In characteristic fashion, the twins each grabbed a small section of cloth in their fists and jammed it in their eager mouths to get the flavor of it.

He came to sit at the table with Cook and Aman. ‘Though I might be willing to deliver a few flyers to the good folk we’ve met here. I’d enjoy a ride to see old places.’ He accepted a cup of tea from Cook. ‘I doubt we’d have to give messages to many – a few select Hobbits told in the morning and the whole area should be well informed by evening!’

‘By noon, I should think!’ came the response from Pio, with a chuckle.

With a bang, the door to the kitchen flew open, and Zimzi rushed in, hurrying to Pio’s side. Apologizing for bursting in, she leaned near the Elf’s ear and whispered a few words before rushing out again.

The three at the table looked at Pio expectantly when Zimzi had left.

Pio arched her brows, and considered how she might explain the scene to them. ‘Just part of a plan I had hoped might work out.’ She looked back at the door which had now swung shut. ‘And apparently my hopes may yet bear fruit . . .’ Mithadan snorted – the Elf and her plans! While Cook, narrowing her eyes, thought she would need to keep her eyes peeled as to what was cooking that involved Zimzi – she’d corner Buttercup and Ruby later; they were her eyes and ears to what was happening in all places in the Inn.

Aman, a considering expression on her face, looked closely at her friend, and mouthed 'Later . . .' to her.

'Hmmm,' thought Pio to herself, 'perhaps I can enlist the aid of the Innkeeper in my little plan . . .'

[ October 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ NOTICE OF NEW GAME ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elora and littlemanpoet have a game they would like you to consider: The Hills of Evendim (HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000120)).

This Discussion Thread for this RPG will be open to take on characters October 13th.

Until then, read the proposal thoroughly, draft a descriptive and creative bio for your character using the Character Description Form, and write a well done First Post for your character to be submitted at the same time as your character description. Make sure you have read the Opening Post for the game - it will give you information with which to craft this post.

This will be an exciting game!

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Esgallhugwen]

To Esgallhugwen's surprise the Dwarf opened up about a story, that seemed rather sad at the end but none the less Lis offered her a drink. Esgallhugwen took a stool beside her "my name is Esgallhugwen, some have difficulty pronouncing it I have recently realized, so I suppose it would do no harm in calling me Elenglin, a more personal name that my mother used", she smiled taking the offer of drink with thanks.

Lis ordered up an ale and Esgallhugwen took it gladly having a taste for strong things. She took a sip "I suppose I would say I hail from close to what is now called 'Eryn Lasgalen', my home had no name, it didn't last long enough to be given one" she stopped with a sad tone, "which brings me here, to lift up my spirits I suppose though long years I have wondered, with only my mount, Morsereg, as a companion".

Esgallhugwen smiled at the Dwarf, taking another drink. "I have never held converse with a Dwarf before, your people are most courtious".

[ October 12, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[piosenniel]

Point of Information for everyone:

Mirkwood is no longer called Mirkwood at this time.

At present, the Green Dragon Inn is in the 4th Age - year 12 (many years after the War of the Ring – ended 3rd Age 3019; 4th Age began at the end of 3021 of the 3rd Age.).

In 3019 of the 3rd Age, Mirkwood was cleansed. It was renamed by Celeborn and Thranduil - 'Eryn Lasgalen'- the Wood of Green Leaves. It has been called that name now for about 14 years.

It is a name reminiscent of the Forest's original name, Greenwood the Great, before the shadow of Sauron as the Necromancer fell over it from Dol Guldur (about 3rd Age 1050).

[Imladris]

Lira rose to her feet and scratched Corn under his ebony beak, while he made soft croakings that Lira compared with a kitten's purr. She must be on her way, though first she must thank the innkeeper and pay her reckoning for the room. Making her way slowly towards the inn, she whispered, "Wait here, Corn, in the branches of that elm," she added as she flung her arm upwards, launching him into the air. Upon her fair skin, two lines of blood began to ooze, the unwitting work of Corn's sharp claws. Ignoring the scratch, she entered the room and waited for a brief instant while her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Esgallhugwen was speaking with a dwarf man -- wait, woman. Lira frowned slightly in dislike -- she had never really cared for dwarves.

Lira did not see Aman in the Common Room, so she drifted towards the kitchen and peered into it. Two babes slept peacefully beside a small fire place, wrapped in a comfortable quilt. Lira slipped into a nearby shadow as an elf maid rushed by her, and, after she had passed, Lira again peered into the room and saw that another elf was speaking to Aman and the Cook.

Waiting patiently for a break in the conversation, Lira's gazed travelled to the babies who were now playing quietly in the quilt. She leaned against the post and watched them, a smile playing about her lips, her blue eyes twinkling with fascinated joy.

"Lira?" asked Aman, who had now noticed her, "is anything the matter?"

Her words jerked Lira back to the kitchen, and turning, she said, "Yes. I regret to say that I must leave and travel North, but I want to pay my reckoning. Forgive me for interrupting you and..." her eyes flicked to the other elf and asked a question to Aman.

"Mistress Piosenniel," Aman laughed as Lira dropped a curtsy.

The Innkeeper named a sum, which Lira fished from a leather bag and handed it to her. "I will return," said Lira, as she left the kitchen.

Skipping gracefully towards the stable, she packed her now dry green dress, and leaped to Merkaliel's back and cantered down the lane.

[Enif]

'Yes the Shire is such a lovely place, so peaceful! Sometimes a little too peaceful, I'd say. You see, I'd rather venture around, though the thought of having a place of such beauty and peace, some how, conforts me.'
It was already late in the afternoon and Enif felt that she could use a rest. she took a deep breath and said: 'Well Éofalas it was a pleasure, but do understand I travelled an awfuly long distance and I could really use some rest now. I hope to see you later... now if you'll excuse me I'm going to find myself a room.'
She got up and walked on the direction of the innkeepers, she found them talking. 'Excuse me I was just wondering, are there any free rooms? You see I had quite a long journey...' Enif said a little unconfortable to have interupted the conversation.

[Theoric Windcaller]

Among the brewing conversations and hollars for more ale and the choes of laughter, a small creak sounded. The door opened, inching its way closer and closer towards the wall. It soon stopped.

The inn, busy as always, never ceased to be noisy. The dwarf's memories of a time long since passed came back to him.

As Theoric, the small dwarf entered, he was reminded to take his weapon and lightly lay it down beside the wall at the door. He remembered this rule, and he remembered that he was told never to disobey it.

He leaned his axe against the wall and unhooded himself, letting the light from the roaring fire gently warm his face. He had been travelling for many miles, speicifically from the stretching plains of Rohan, home of the horse-lords.

Many miles was his trek, and he came here only for one thing: a pint of ale.

Yes, this ale was the best in the land of Middle-Earth, save for the ale that was made in Rohan, and still that alle had not the strength and enlightenment of the ale here in the Green Dragon Inn of the Shire.

Every muscle and bone in his body ached. He looked across the inn at the bar, and he saw a familiar face that he had not seen in many months.

Aman, the bartender.

He smelled the delicious food and dreamt that it was already in his mouth. He closed his eyes, dazed and bewildered by the fact that when he opened them, he was chewing on his own tongue!

He made his way through the maze of randomly positioned tables and chairs and sat himself on the last open stood at the bar, between two young hobbits that sat there, drinking pints of ale.

Both were young, their eyes blue and green, and their youth displayed through their lively laughs when they joked with one another.

Theoric thought to himself. 'Why would two young hobbits waste their lives away drinking ale here? They have wars they must train for!'

But then he remembered-he was not in Rohan anymore. He was in the Shire, a place where wars did not exist and death was rare. This was the norm, for hobbits young and old.

Theoric laughed to himself as he looked deep into the eyes of the approaching bartender.

He smiled.

[piosenniel]

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

Elora and littlemanpoet invite you to take a look at their RPG:

The Hills of Evendim

Click HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000120) to read the proposal.

The Discussion Thread is open to take on characters.

It will be a fun game!

~*~ Pio

[Imladris]

I clutched my wooden staff convulsively as I tripped over a stone that sent me tumbling to the ground. My whole body jarred as it hit the dusty earth, and I sneezed as dust entered my nostrils. I glowered and imagined that the stone was chuckling malignantly to itself and had purposely tripped me.

Crawling to a sitting position, I really wondered if following this path that supposedly led to a reputable Green Dragon Inn was worth the trouble. It was slightly up hill and the groud was rocky. At the mention of stones, I suddenly realized that a warm red liquid was trickling down my feet; leaning over, I gently drifted my fingers against my bare foot, wincing as the finger-tips brushed against tender new skin that were slowly forming into callouses. Then I found it: a broken blister with liquid flowing freely from the rupture. Soaking my finger, I brought it up to my nose and sneezed again at the revolting smell of blood. I glared at my bare feet: long before I had tossed aside the ragged pieces of leather that had once been durable sandals of a lay man of Gondor.

Easing myself to my tender feet using the wooden staff, I could feel my lyre thump comfortably on my back, and smiled sadly and bitterly as the strings jangled pleasantly. Never again could I play the stringed instrument: I had known so twelve years before, but I could not bring myself to part with it.

My staff clumped upon a wooden step and drawing myself upon it, I stood still and listened: hearty laughs came from within, the scrape of knife against fork, the giggles of flirtatious lasses. I sniffed deeply and smelled the homely smell of pipes being smoken, the waft of lingering dinner fragrances. Surprised, I lifted my head and sniffed again: a slight scent of former rain perfumed the air.

Suddenly, a body brushed past me and I grasped it by a sleeve: thoughts raced frantically in my head: it was finally woven, and by the feel of the cloth it was spun from the wool of sheep. "Please, sir, is this the Green Dragon Inn?"

A decidedly female voice answered me and I could feel myself blushing scarlet in chagrin: "Yes, but why do you call me 'sir'? I am but a hobbit lass."

"And I am but a blind girl of Gondor," I retorted, letting go of her sleeve, or skirt, or apron. I couldn't tell which I had grabbed.

"There is an empty table to the right of the doorway," the hobbit said, volunteering what she gathered would be useful information.

"Thank you," I said, cautiously feeling the way with my staff. I somehow managed to find the empty table and sank down with a sigh, my poor feet crying their thanks to me.

There was a window beside me: the glass was smooth and delightfully warm. My fingers trailed until I found the wooden sill: I could tell that it was dusty, but I smiled. Long before when I was little I had had much fun with dusty sills and leaving impudent messages traced in the dirt, a subtle hint to my sister that the house needed to be cleaned. I laughed and was happy that I had grown a bit more mature (at least I fancied that I was). Still giggling, I began to trace my name: Finduilas.

[ October 13, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]